“Mrs. Birmingham,” he said formally, resuming his perch. “I appreciate the fact that you were able to come down. I fully understand how trying this ordeal has been for you.”
“Thank you for your consideration, Sheriff Townsend,” she murmured in a hushed tone, feeling the need to reciprocate with the same kind of stilted decorum. The fact that she avoided meeting Jeff’s stare widened the chasm between them. She clasped her hands in her lap, the better to conceal their violent trembling, and spared a quick glance up at the lawman. “Shall we proceed?”
“Yes, ma’am, of course.” Rhys cleared his throat and shot a glance toward his friend. “I understand from Jeff that you arrived at the stable some time after he discovered Nell’s body. Could you tell me how you came to be there and what you saw?”
“I awoke when I realized Jeff was no longer in our room. When I noticed a light burning in the stable, I thought there was some kind of trouble with one of the horses and that my husband had gone out to see about the matter. When I entered the stable, I heard a baby crying. I ran to the stall where the lantern was burning, and saw Nell.” Raelynn clenched her hands and squeezed her eyes tightly shut as she tried to banish that gruesome scene from her memory. When she continued, her tone was barely audible, but at least she was no longer crying. “Blood was everywhere.”
“Jeff said that Nell begged him to pull out the knife,” Rhys confided with measured care. He was aware that the couple had wed shortly after meeting and that they really hadn’t had much time to become acquainted before that event. If he could somehow help Raelynn to trust Jeff, then he had every expectation that she wouldn’t regret it in the end. He had known Jeff since their early youth, and it went against his grain to entertain the premise that his friend could do such a foul, murderous deed. If Jeff could befriend cats, then there was no doubt the man had a most tolerant nature. But then, considering his own aversion to felines, Rhys wondered if he was being at all realistic in making such a comparison. “Your husband did so, hoping to help Nell, but by that time, she only had a few moments to live. Can you verify any of this?”
Raelynn gulped, trying to subdue a shudder. “As far as I know, Nell was already dead when I arrived.” She chanced a glance toward Jeff, who had taken a chair beside her. His manner seemed strangely calm, and he gave every appearance of being keenly attentive to her answers. With some difficulty, she continued. “My husband was kneeling in the shadows. I didn’t see him immediately. When he rose to his feet and stepped toward Nell, I thought at first that he was someone else. When I caught sight of the knife in his hands, I guess I must have panicked. I ran back to the house. I’ve been upstairs ever since.”
Rhys reached around and, sweeping the brass-edged coffer from Jeff’s desk, brought it forth and braced it upon his thigh. Having gained the young woman’s complete attention, he opened it and allowed her to view the damage that had been done within the interior. “Cora said that this was probably done sometime during the ball. Were you apprised of the gouges that were made before this present moment?”
Raelynn was shocked. Though she searched her memory, she couldn’t recall having noticed the chest at all after Jeff had carried her to their room. But then, they had been so involved with each other, she wouldn’t have noticed anything else. “I knew nothing about the damage. Why would anyone have done that?”
“That’s what we were hoping you could explain,” Rhys replied, setting the coffer behind him again. He fished into his coat pocket and, upon withdrawing the snuff box, set it on the table beside her chair. “Have you ever seen this before?”
“To the best of my knowledge, I haven’t.”
“Cora found it on the floor beside the desk in the bedroom you share with your husband. Someone had also left your father’s coffer on top of the desk, where I understand from Jeff that his hunting knife is normally kept. Now, we know that the knife was used to kill Nell. Jeff has verified the fact that it was the one he withdrew from Nell in an effort to stop the bleeding. Since it was taken from the desk, I can only assume that it may have also been used to mar the interior of the coffer.”
Raelynn realized her mouth had fallen slack and hurriedly snapped it shut. She peered at the sheriff, trying to sort the logic of what he had said. “You mean to say that someone came into our bedroom, riddled the interior of my father’s coffer, possibly with Jeff’s knife, during which time he might have dropped the snuffbox, and then some time after that, took the knife out to murder Nell. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking ever since I started trying to solve this puzzle. It just doesn’t make any sense,” Rhys agreed. “Why would anyone steal into your room, whittle on a box and then go down and murder a girl with the same knife?” He pursed his lips thoughtfully and gazed about at the ceiling molding, as if seriously considering it for the first time. “Unless, of course, Nell came up by way of the porch stairs and entered your husband’s bedroom, hoping to find Jeff there, and discovered instead a man who had an interest in your father’s coffer. If that was the case, then the man might have killed her to keep her quiet. But unless we can ascertain exactly why anyone would be interested in an empty coffer, that leaves me without a clue as to what really happened. Of course, there’s always the possibility that the murderer is completely deranged and just wanted to test the blade, first on wood and then on something softer?”
Seeing Raelynn shudder squeamishly, Jeff rose with his usual lithe grace from his chair and faced his friend, having heard enough. “Really, Rhys. Is this necessary?”
Rhys waved him silent as he leaned forward and gazed intently at Raelynn. “Tell me what you can about the coffer.”
“I don’t know why anyone would have wanted to damage my father’s box.” Raelynn’s whisper was strained and barely audible, but in careful detail she went on to explain how her sire had given the coffer filled with gold coins to her mother, that he had died in prison after being accused of treason against the crown, how she and her mother had arrived at the decision to sail to the Carolinas after Cooper Frye came into their lives, and that it was that one who had sold the chest to an import dealer.
“You said your father instructed your mother to keep the box until he had need of its contents. Was he talking about the gold coins inside or something else entirely?”
“To my knowledge there was never anything else but the coins inside.”
“It didn’t have a secret compartment?”
Raelynn sank back in her chair in surprise. “There might have been, but I was never made aware of the presence of one. Nor do I think my mother was cognizant of a hidden compartment. My father never made any reference to it when he urged my mother to keep the coffer safe. When he told her to safeguard the contents, we assumed he was talking about the gold and that he would have need of that bit of wealth later on when he came to trial.”
“Do you suppose he meant for you and your mother to use the gold for your needs and to bring the box back to him when the time was right?”
Raelynn was completely astounded by his supposition and yet thoroughly able to accept that it had merit. Still, why would anyone in the Carolinas be interested in what the box might have contained?
“If there’s not a secret compartment,” Rhys offered, “why would anyone pry at the bottom of an empty box?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know! I just can’t believe anyone here in this country would have reason to search for a hidden partition in my father’s coffer.” Raelynn clasped a trembling hand to her brow, striving for control. She was very close to bursting into tears. She knew that Rhys Townsend was a close friend of her husband, and that he would likely make every effort to direct suspicion away from Jeff. It might have been the reason he was harping on her father’s box. As for the knife, the idea of it being taken off by a man was feasible, too, but Jeff could have also been the culprit if he had become riled by Nell’s demands that he acknowledge her bastard child as his own.
Raelynn didn’t have an explanation for any of it and could only guess at the many possibilities. All she knew was that she had seen her husband in the stall near Nell’s bloody body. He had been holding the murder weapon, and his clothes and hands had been stained by glistening red. Those particular details had been enough to send her fleeing in fear, and yet the sheriff seemed wont to dismiss them in an effort to cast the blame on some imagined culprit.
Raelynn squeezed her eyes tightly shut against a wave of threatening nausea brought on by a sudden, mind-numbing throbbing in her head. “I need to return to my room,” she whispered. “I’m feeling sick.”
“I’ve bothered you long enough,” Rhys acknowledged in empathy and got to his feet. “I’ll be going now, but if you should happen to remember anything pertinent about this matter, Mrs. Birmingham, please be sure and let me know as soon as you can.”
Raelynn nodded numbly and remained seated as the two men left the parlor. Only then did she find the strength to push herself to her feet and make her way to the door. In the entrance hall, her legs nearly buckled beneath her, and she stretched out a hand to the wall to steady herself. Behind her, the front door stood open. Through it, she heard the sheriff’s deeply resonant voice drifting into the hall.
“Thanks for having the wagon brought around, Jeff. If you can spare a driver, he can bring it back. Otherwise, it may take me a few days before I can return it.”
“Stop by the stables on your way out and pick up a groom. It will save you a trip out.”
“With so many guests here last night, Jeff, it will be difficult for me to question them all to see if they might have heard or seen anything before they left. You can bet there’ll be plenty of talk about this incident in Charleston. Since Nell was killed on your property, people will no doubt wonder what connection you had with her murder. You’d better keep your wife out here for a while so she won’t hear the gossip. You know how nasty some people can be. They’ll likely think I didn’t arrest you because you’re my friend.”
“Thanks for coming out, Rhys,” Jeff murmured. “I appreciate all you’ve done.”
“What are friends for?”
Jeff’s friend! Raelynn mentally groaned, nearly crumpling against the wall. Would he, for the sake of their friendship, allow a murderer to go unpunished?
Trembling, she crossed the hall, mounted the stairs, and sought the privacy of her former bedchamber. Once there, she locked the door and sat on the edge of the bed. Staring listlessly across the room, she could only view the sheriff’s remarks as a fair indication that he believed Jeff innocent of Nell’s murder, but he hadn’t seen what she had seen, Jeff standing over the girl’s lifeless body, and all that blood on his shirt! On the knife he held! On his fingers! In her mind!
11
THERE WAS SOMETHING TOTALLY DISTRACTING about racing a stallion across the countryside without regard for how fast the animal was moving or how uneven the terrain stretching out ahead of them. Jeff certainly wasn’t in a mood to care, not when he was in sore need of an activity that would take his mind off the cold, dark emptiness that had settled into his vitals. Years ago, he had come to the realization that the best way to put his thoughts into proper perspective was to get on the back of a horse and ride across the countryside for an hour or so. Brutus’s temperament always challenged him, and at present, Jeff welcomed the diversion. It was this or morosely mulling over his wife’s willingness to believe the worst of him.
Jeff rode past the spot where he had made love to Raelynn, but the memory of that blissful afternoon darkened his mood progressively, for it brought to mind the difference a night’s passing could make in a man’s life. Now that his wife suspected him of murder, he had no doubt that their marriage would be reduced to a mere travesty. Indeed, if he could deduce anything from her refusal to talk with him, then he could imagine that she wouldn’t be satisfied until there was a space of a whole continent between them.
Jeff muttered a savage curse, and forcibly banished those disturbing conjectures from his mind. He touched his heels to the stallion’s gleaming flanks, and soon they were racing around a bend, beyond which Jeff espied a stout tree recently uprooted by strong winds. It was just large enough to offer him a definite dare. Reining the animal about to face the goal, he patted the silken neck and spoke soothingly. Brutus seemed to sense the task required of him, for his small, pointed ears pricked forward in alert attention. Prancing in heightening excitement, the horse waited for the command. It took no more than a light touch of a booted heel to send him racing toward the fallen tree. As they reached the obstacle, Brutus soared upward, tucking his forelegs beneath him, and propelled himself in a wide, graceful arc that carried him with plenty of space to spare over the barrier.
Jeff felt his own heart lift at their success, recognized it for the stolen pleasure that it was, and decided to indulge himself further. Turning the animal, he caught sight of something in the distance that offered more of a challenge, a three-tiered split rail fence enclosing a fallow field.
“Let’s see what you’re really capable of, boy,” he urged, once again using his booted heels to propel the animal forward.
Upon nearing the fence, Brutus pushed himself off the ground with an impetus that sent him flying over the obstacle. Like a swan lighting on water, he descended, first on his forehooves and then on his hind two, and continued the graceful stride until his master pulled back lightly upon the reins.
Chuckling in pleasure, Jeff patted the stallion’s neck affectionately and murmured lavish praises. Brutus flicked his tail and nickered softly in response, with unusual forbearance accepting his master’s approval.
For several miles, Jeff walked the magnificent animal, allowing him to cool before urging him again into an easy canter. Brutus readily obeyed, thoroughly amazing Jeff. At times, the steed had proven ornery enough to require a second prodding, on some occasions even a third. It gave Jeff serious cause to wonder if his imagination wasn’t running away with him. Rare though such an idea was, Brutus almost seemed to be demonstrating some measure of compassion toward him, as if the animal could actually sense his gloomy mood.
Other jumps were taken with a shared willingness to seize whatever excitement could be found. Twice the stallion almost stumbled, and were it not for Jeff’s skill at keeping his seat in the fine English saddle, he would have gone sailing. One of these near mishaps came after an especially daring jump, high enough to take both man and beast far beyond the realm of prudence. Jeff finally drew rein, realizing he was treading very near the sharp precipice that bordered on reckless disregard. He stroked the arched neck of the steed and once again praised him as a worthy steed. Still, Jeff felt infinitely better after working off most of his tension and frustration. Seemingly, of their own accord, his thoughts settled down with crystal clarity.
Whatever Raelynn’s suspicions, he knew he had to extend every privilege a man could bestow upon his wife during this time of uncertainty. In view of the apprehensions presently roiling within her, it would be sheer madness for him to try and force her into some kind of acceptance of his innocence, no matter how false it might prove to be underneath the surface, or to bring her to heel by husbandly dominance. Coercion of that nature definitely ran contrary to his principles. Yet, in giving her time to reaffirm her trust in him, he could foresee himself having to endure another lengthy abstinence, and this time he seriously doubted that a fortnight would suffice in bringing an end to their present rift. He had gotten comfortable with their intimacy and everything else involved in their marriage, and he was loath to see all of that end.
Some years ago, he had become cognizant of his brother wrenching his gut out for want of Heather. At the time, Jeff had made up his mind that he would never yield to that kind of torment. Yet here he was again, foreseeing the difficulty in being around his wife, seeing her, feeling her presence, smelling her fragrance, without his insides being twisted inside out in his desire for her. Given enough time, Raelynn might return to his bed. A few da
ys of husbandly restraint he could bear, but not months and years on end. In the latter case, he’d feel like a man whose entrails were being drawn out before a scheduled quartering.
There was also the matter of his good standing with neighbors and acquaintances. It would certainly not be outside the realm of reality for them to suspect him in the murder of Nell. Neither could he go around broadcasting his innocence to all who would lend an ear. Unless accused outrightly, it would be more judicious by far to hold his tongue and remain distantly detached from the snide whispers and narrowed, suspicious stares.
Jeff couldn’t actually say that he had made peace with his difficulties by the time he neared the stables; the thought of separate bedrooms certainly brought the brumes of gloom sweeping back upon him. Nevertheless he had come to the realization that there would be trouble up ahead, not only in his marriage to Raelynn, but possibly in his good standing with the citizens of the area. When it came time, he’d just have to deal with both circumstances in his own way, and hopefully right would prevail.
By the time Sparky finally espied horse and rider approaching the stable, he had been thrown into an anxious dither. Considering how long the pair had been gone, the trainer had fully expected the stallion to come home with nothing more than an empty saddle and could hardly contain his relief when he realized his fears had been for naught, at least in this instance.
“Lawdy mercy, Mistah Jeffrey,” he panted after racing out to meet his employer, “ye had us all wonderin’ if’n ye were a-dyin’ someplace from a broken neck. Thank goodness ye’re safe.”
Jeff swung down from the saddle. “As farfetched as it may seem, Sparky, Brutus was a perfect gentleman today. So treat him well tonight. He has earned it.”
“Yes, suh, I’ll do that. Maybe if’n I give him a few extra oats, he might take the hint that it pays ta be nice.”
A Season Beyond a Kiss Page 21