Murder on the Moor

by Julianna Deering

  Drew nodded, his attention once more on the scratches around the keyhole, which seemed to have been made by someone with an unsteady hand trying to put the key into the lock.

  “A dog’s not in there now, but that doesn’t mean there hasn’t been.” Drew looked over at the print in the dirt. “Or that there won’t be again. We’ll have to keep an eye on the place.”

  Eleven

  We probably shouldn’t be in here.”

  Sabrina’s quiet voice sounded louder than it was in the abandoned north wing, and Madeline instinctively shushed her.

  “Of course we shouldn’t be in here. Our husbands will both be very put out with us if they find out, but Drew’s being awfully stubborn about even looking. Besides, if there’s nothing to see in here, as they keep telling us, then we just won’t tell them about it. And if there is something to see, they’ll be glad we found it.”

  “And if we fall through the floorboards or the staircase, as Beaky tells me we shall?”

  “Then they’ll get to say ‘I told you so.’ Now come on.”

  Madeline glanced around at the once-opulent moth-eaten curtains and the dust-coated furniture as they passed from what might have been a drawing room into the library. There were still some books on the shelves, but they were shrouded with spider webs, and more than one had had its pages shredded, no doubt to serve as nesting for mice or rats. It all seemed so gloomy and sad.

  “How long ago was this wing last lived in?”

  “Oh, ages,” Sabrina said. “I can’t remember exactly when Beaky said it was closed up. Back in the eighties, I think.” She shivered, hunching her shoulders. “It’s positively creepy in here. I’m glad it’s daytime, though it would be nice to have some lights on. Of course, they never put electricity in here. It’s only the old gaslights, and Beaky says it’s been so long since they’ve been lit, that’s not safe either.”

  Madeline shone the flashlight around the library, stopping when the light glinted off of something on the window seat. “What’s that?”

  She went over to it and found a few slivers of broken glass had fallen from the boarded-up window and onto the torn velvet cushion.

  “When did this happen?”

  Sabrina shrugged. “I don’t know. Months ago. One of the times Beaky had some men look it over to make sure we hadn’t had intruders. They found that window broken, but only part of one of the panes. He said nothing bigger than a squirrel could have gotten in that way, but they boarded up all the windows just to make sure they were closed off.”

  The glass was nearly as dusty as the cushion itself. It seemed unlikely it had fallen there recently.

  “Did he tell you about anything else they found the last time the men were in here?” Madeline asked, shining the light along the baseboards and then over the time-ravaged carpet. “I suppose all of these footprints are theirs.”

  “I think they must be. Beaky told me there wasn’t any sign of anyone being here, but I know the kinds of sounds mice and squirrels make. That’s not what I’ve heard in the night.”

  Sabrina’s voice quavered, and her hands fluttered, no doubt reaching by force of habit for the cigarettes she hadn’t brought with her. But there was determination, even defiance, in her pale face.

  Madeline shone the light around the library once more and then took her arm. “Why don’t you show me where your bedroom wall meets up with this wing?”

  Sabrina nodded. “If you think the stairs are safe. And the upper floors.”

  “We’ll be careful.”

  The front stairs, the grand entrance from the main hall that led to this wing, merely ended at locked double doors, so they took the back stairs, narrow and steep, up to the second floor, holding tightly to the rail and testing each step before putting their full weight on it.

  There were more footmarks up here, where Beaky’s men had searched, and even more abundant, the signs of small animals, torn curtains, and unstuffed upholstery. It would be a nasty place to clean out when it was time to refurbish the place.

  “This way.”

  The floor creaking beneath them, Sabrina led her down a wide corridor with faded wallpaper marred with nails and picture wires and less-faded rectangles where paintings must have once hung. A large spider web covered the upper part of the mullioned window at the very end.

  “In there,” Sabrina said when they reached the last door on the left. “Those double doors go out to the upper floor of the main wing, but I’m fairly sure they’re locked. Even if they aren’t, we don’t want to pop out of them and have Halford or someone see us and report us to the master. But I don’t think this room is locked.”

  She reached for the knob on the single door and then faltered.

  Reminding herself it was likely just an empty room, Madeline put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Do you want me to—”

  “No.” Sabrina squared her shoulders and took the flashlight from her. “No, I’m not so great a ninny as that. Come on.”

  She grasped the doorknob, turned it, and flung open the door. This had clearly been a bedroom, though there was nothing left of the bed but the heavy frame and the canopy with rotting shreds of brownish ivory brocade still hanging from it. The upper windows hadn’t been boarded up, though what remained of the curtains was closed. The mild sunlight shone through a number of tears, but it was still dim enough in the room to make the flashlight useful.

  Sabrina shone it toward the curtained back wall. “I’m sure that’s the one that backs up to my room. Well, my dressing room. That was probably a dressing room, too.”

  That curtain looked to be made of the same stuff as the window curtains, a heavy brocade like the bed hangings, though this was pale blue, faded but less so than the others. Sabrina whisked it back, making the rings whir against the rod, and then shone the light around the shallow area.

  “The last time I heard anything from here it was—”

  With a muffled shriek she let the flashlight fall to the floor with a hollow thud.

  Madeline snatched it up. “What is it? What—?”

  Her own eyes widened as she focused the light down at their feet. There in the thick dust, more recent than and well away from the footmarks of Beaky’s men, were the paw prints of an enormous hound.

  When they reached the crossroads, Nick took the path toward the village. Drew went north to the Lodge. Before he was halfway there, he noticed a man a few hundred yards ahead of him carrying a muddy sheep across his shoulders.

  “Good afternoon,” he called, quickening his pace, certain it was the gamekeeper.

  Delwyn turned, and Drew wasn’t sure if his taut expression was an indication of annoyance or anger.

  “Mr. Farthering, sir. I hadn’t expected to see you out on the moor.”

  “Just having a look about. The stone church . . .” Drew watched the Welshman’s dark eyes as they walked along. “The old kiln out past Midgley’s.”

  The eyes flashed and then narrowed. “What do you want to be going out to those places for? There’s nothing for you there.”

  “No?” Drew asked pleasantly.

  “Just a waste of your time, sir.”

  “Not at all. I came up here to look into things. It seems a very good use of my time.”

  Delwyn’s mouth tightened. “Those murders are a village matter, if you’ll pardon my saying. Nothing to do with the mischief out here on the moor.”

  “Any particular reason you’d rather I not look into those places?”

  For a moment there was only the sound of the gamekeeper’s heavy boots on the footpath, and then he slowed to a stop and gave Drew a hard look. “It’s not my usual job to tend the sheep, but I found this one caught up where she oughtn’t to have been. Leg’s broken.” He shifted the animal to get a better hold, and she let out a piteous bleat. “But then she’s just a poor, dumb beast. A smarter creature would keep out of places that aren’t safe.”

  He held Drew’s gaze for a moment more and then started walking again, saying noth
ing else until they reached one of the pens.

  “If you’ll pardon me, sir, I’d better get Johnson to tend to her.” He ducked his head, unable with his hands full to give the customary touch to the brim of his hat. “You know your way back to the Lodge from here, do you?”

  The Lodge was plainly visible from where they stood.

  “I think I can manage,” Drew said coolly. “Oh, one question, Delwyn, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sir?”

  “You said old Mr. Bloodworth’s dog is very large.”

  “He was, sir.”

  “Any idea how big his paw prints might be?”

  “His . . .” Delwyn knit his dark brows. “I dunno. Might be the size of my clenched fist. A bit smaller.”

  Drew held up his hand, fingers spread. “Not as big as this?”

  The gamekeeper quickly shook his head. “Why?”

  Drew passed over the question. “Have you seen him lately?”

  “Not for some while. This past March or April. Maybe it was before that. He’s getting on a bit. I’m wondering if he might not have laid himself down somewhere out on the moor and never gotten up again.”

  “I thought he was your explanation for some of the incidents out there.”

  There was a wicked touch of humor now in Delwyn’s expression. “Better than blaming the barghest, eh?”

  Drew only looked at him. The sheep squirmed again, bleating loudly.

  “I’d best get her seen to then, sir.” Again Delwyn ducked his head. “Mind how you go.”

  Calling for Johnson, he carried the sheep around one of the sheds and out of sight.

  “You do the same, Delwyn,” Drew said before he turned again toward the Lodge. “If you’re wise.”

  Drew had barely stepped inside the front door when Madeline rushed up to him, a pretty flush in her cheeks and her eyes bright with excitement.

  “You won’t believe what we found.”

  “What have you done now?” he asked, trying to be stern and failing miserably. “You didn’t go back out on the moor, did you?” He gave his hat to the young maid who made a sudden appearance.

  “No, we did not go back out on the moor,” Madeline said. “We didn’t even leave the house.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t have to remind you of the trouble you get into when you don’t even leave the house.” Drew gave the maid his overcoat and thanked her as she scurried away.

  Madeline huffed. “Fine. I just won’t tell you what we found.”

  He caught her hand before she could flounce off and pulled her near. “Tell me.”

  She shrugged one shoulder and turned her face disdainfully away.

  “Tell me,” he breathed into her ear, “or I won’t tell you what Nick and I found out at the stone church.”

  Her breathing quickened, though whether that was from how close he was holding her or from excitement over the case, he wasn’t entirely sure.

  “What?” she whispered.

  He looked around, making sure they weren’t overheard, and kept his voice low. “That tower has been opened recently, though it’s locked now, but outside it we saw the paw print of an enormous—”

  “An enormous hound!” she finished for him, her eyes shining.

  “Shh!” He glanced around again. “How did you know?”

  “Because that’s what we saw, Sabrina and I. In the north wing.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re not the only one who can do some investigating.”

  He stepped back from her. “I gather neither of you ended up with a broken neck, so we won’t discuss the wisdom of your going up there alone.” Unable to help the little surge in his own heartbeat, he allowed the tiniest flicker of a smile to touch his lips. “You’d better show me.”

  “I’d have to get the key from Sabrina again, and she says she won’t go back up there. Not until we figure out what’s been going on.”

  Drew frowned. “I’ll just get it from Beaky. He’ll want to see, as well.”

  “Wait,” she said as he strode toward the corridor that led to Beaky’s study. “She doesn’t want him to—”

  “I already know,” Beaky said, coming from the opposite way and obviously trying to lighten his annoyance with good humor. “Seems I can’t even go look at Mr. Hanover’s new generator without there being mischief done.”

  Madeline went to him, looking contrite and very charming. “I hope you’re not upset with Sabrina. It really was all my idea.”

  “I suppose no harm done, eh?” He turned faintly red. “Though you really ought to be careful.” He looked at Drew. “What do you say? Shall we have a look ourselves?”

  Drew didn’t have to be asked twice, and a few minutes later the three of them were in the north wing, an electric torch shining on the undeniable print of a large hound.

  Drew held his hand over it, fingers spread. “I would say that’s the same print I saw.” He turned the light on the dusty floor, but it showed him only the marks of workmen’s boots. “But I would like to know how they got up here.”

  The shredded curtains still let in pale strips of light from the window. Nothing had disturbed the dust from that quarter of the room. The animal’s prints were not mixed in with the others coming from the door. They were only there in the curtained dressing room that was on the other side of the Bloodworths’ bedroom.

  “You didn’t see prints anywhere else?” he asked Madeline.

  “Sabrina practically dragged me back to the main part of the house once we saw these, so I didn’t have much time to look, but we certainly didn’t notice anything like that on our way up here, and we saw pretty much everything downstairs.”

  “Might someone have come in from the upper floor?” he asked Beaky.

  “I don’t think so. Those doors are kept locked, and even if someone had, there would be prints coming from that way, wouldn’t there? And it’s a good way down to the ground from that window. I don’t see how a dog could have gotten in. Not an ordinary dog at any rate.”

  “Well, I promise you it’s not a demon hound with huge claws and teeth and red glowing eyes,” Drew said, examining the prints again. “Though how these came to be here is certainly a puzzling question. And you’re sure no one in the house would have reason to let one of your dogs in? One of the sheepdogs or something? I mean, besides Raphael, and he certainly didn’t make a print that size.”

  “None of our other dogs are that big either,” Beaky said, his forehead wrinkling. “Uncle Hubert used to have a large dog, but I expect you know that already. He’s been gone for months now. Well before these prints were made. And he never would have come in here anyway. Uncle was very strict about leaving the north wing locked up. Didn’t want to heat it or run the gaslights or make it safe enough for people to come into, I expect.”

  “And none of your people have heard or seen anything either?” Drew asked. “Besides what you’ve already told me?”

  “No. And they are under strict orders to come to me at once if they see or hear anything out of the ordinary. No stray animals. No strangers. Nothing at all. But clearly . . .” Beaky looked at Drew rather helplessly. “I just don’t know what to make of any of it.”

  Drew clasped his shoulder, turning toward the door, shining the torch to illuminate the way. “That’s what Madeline and I are here to find out. It’s not very clear so far, but as our dear chief inspector likes to tell me, it’s early days yet. Early days.”

  Sabrina was waiting for them at the door to the north wing, a burning cigarette in her trembling fingers. “Did you find anything else?”

  “Nothing more than what you saw, my dear.” Beaky locked the door to that part of the house and put the key in his pocket. “And whoever or whatever has been over there, he won’t come in here.”

  She took a deep puff and blew out the smoke in a sullen stream. “You don’t know that.”

  He glanced at Drew, an obvious plea for support, and, seeing the subtle urging in Madeline’s expression, Drew turned to Sabrina, assuming his mo
st confident demeanor.

  “I’m sure we’ll get it all sorted soon. Meanwhile, I trust you’ll be well-protected here, won’t she, Beaky, old man?”

  “Oh, good. Beaky.” Sabrina’s smoldering cigarette bobbed with the negligent motion of her hand. “Very good. I suppose you’ll throw yourself courageously into the path of the beast so that I might be spared.”

  Her rouged lips twisted into a sneer, but Beaky did not look away.

  “I would,” he said, his voice soft. “I would.”

  For an instant she didn’t move. Then with a glance at Drew and Madeline, she laughed. “I might as well have Raphael to protect me.” She turned a bright smile on her guests. “Beaky’s always making jokes, isn’t he? Even in a serious moment. Ah, well.”

  Beaky always reddened at the slightest provocation. Now his face was like fire. “Have . . . have you told the Fartherings about our dinner invitation, Sabrina, dear?”

  Sabrina’s smile vanished. “That. I suppose there’s no way we can decline, is there?”

  “It wouldn’t be very polite, dear.”

  “The Grays?” Drew asked, and Sabrina’s expression grew more dour.

  “Yes, though I didn’t think they had such a wonderful time here that they would want to repeat it anytime soon.”

  “They want to be polite, I’m sure,” Beaky said. “We didn’t have so awful an evening, did we?”

  Sabrina merely puffed on her cigarette.

  “Well, I want to go,” Madeline said, taking Drew’s arm. “Don’t you?”

  “Whatever for?” Sabrina grumbled. “It can’t be to become fast friends with the delightful Mrs. Gray.”

  “Are you sure old Mr. Gray will have us in the house?” Beaky asked.

  “Her note says he has agreed to behave himself. If so, I expect it will be a first.”

  “Now, Sabrina, we have to mend things somehow. Perhaps he’s as tired of this nonsense as everyone else.”

  “I think it’s the perfect opportunity,” Drew said. “The more people we can talk to, the more likely it is that someone will say something or do something that will help us. If you’d like to know what’s going on here, don’t you think we ought to see what the Grays know?”