Daniel could not explain that pain made him rage in that way. It would make him appear unhinged and make Pryce even more certain Daniel was involved in the murders.
“Daniel didn’t know Blodwen,” Catrin pointed out, instead.
“I did,” Daniel said quietly. “In passing, at least. Enough to acknowledge her. Newport is small enough everyone knows everyone.”
“Then, if everyone knows everyone, whether Daniel knew her or not is immaterial,” Catrin said, her gaze upon Pryce. “There is no reason for Daniel to…to do that dreadful thing to her.”
Pryce stroked his beard thoughtfully. “There is no reason we are yet aware of. It will become known to us by and by. Why anyone does anything often is the last fact to fall into place.”
Catrin stared at him, horror curling through her. Reasoning wasn’t shifting Pryce from his belief that Daniel was involved. “They were both eviscerated!” she cried. “There were claw marks!”
Pryce dropped his hand. “That is the puzzle, isn’t it?” he said. “At the moment, it does not fit with anything else we know.”
Catrin let out a shaky breath, relief touching her. Pryce was trying to avoid judgment. He was merely fitting facts together.
“Bagh nakh,” Daniel said, his tone sharp with astonishment.
The Inspector’s eyes narrowed with sudden interest.
“What on earth did you say, Daniel?” Nevern said, almost laughing.
“Bagh nakh,” Pryce said. He spoke the words with an accent which made Catrin think of an Indian prince she had once met at a soiree. “It means ‘tiger claw’ in Hindi,” he added. “It is an ancient Indian weapon used by thieves and assassins—”
“And wrestlers,” Daniel added.
Pryce inclined his head a little. “My knowledge is from the military side of things. The regiments in India dealt with fighters who strapped the claws to their hands and leapt upon the English from dark places. They would slash at them until the soldiers bled to death from the wounds.”
Catrin let out a shaky breath.
Pryce’s gaze upon Daniel was steady. “You traveled in India?”
Daniel nodded. “It is where I acquired a bagh nakh, although my interest was purely in the history of the thing.”
“And the weapon is here?”
“Somewhere,” Daniel said. “I don’t think I have looked at it in years.”
Catrin recalled the chests and crates in the north wing, and their strange labels. She sat up. “Perhaps the…the barg—”
“Bagh nakh,” Daniel finished quietly.
“Perhaps the claw is missing, too,” Catrin said. “Perhaps someone else has it.”
“Missing?” Pryce said, his tone sharp. “You have seen it here, Miss Davies?”
“No,” she admitted. “I didn’t open any of the sealed crates and chests. I didn’t want to disturb the foreign labels and seals. Many of them were already open, though, and the lids sat loosely on top. I didn’t search inside the open ones, either.”
“Why not?” Pryce asked. “Surely, the strange labels you speak of would have filled a woman like you with curiosity?”
“I already know what is in them,” Catrin replied. “Daniel wrote to me while he was traveling and he described many of the artefacts he found. It is why I know the staff is missing. He wrote about the curved golden staff he acquired in Egypt. He described it to me in his letter. It was taller than him, so it would not fit into any crate unless the crate was purposefully built to contain it. There are no crates of that shape in north wing. The staff itself was not sitting upon a table or propped in a corner, either. It wasn’t there at all.”
Nevern’s silver flask rattled against the teacup as he poured another dash of brandy.
Pryce wasn’t distracted by the sound. He considered Catrin, his gaze turned inward. He was thinking carefully. “This curved staff—describe it to me,” he told Daniel.
Daniel gave a tiny shrug. “It is as Catrin described. Taller than me and straight from top to bottom, but curved at either end, like an extremely long and slender ‘s’. The head at the top looked something like a dragon. The bottom was its tail, I think.”
“And it is hollow,” Pryce added.
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, it was.”
Pryce nodded. “It isn’t a staff at all,” he said. “It is a carnyx.”
Everyone stared at him. Catrin, too.
Pryce put his hands behind his back once more. “A carnyx is another ancient military device. It is a horn, which was carried at the front of an army and blown to instill fear in the enemy and announce the army’s arrival. The sound it makes might easily be mistaken for the cry of a wolf, if one had never heard it before and it was, say, echoing through hills at night.”
The silence seemed to squeeze Catrin’s throat. Her heart hurt with the speed of its beat.
“Good lord…” Nevern breathed.
Pryce’s gaze swung to Catrin. “Show me the artefacts and the cases.”
As everyone got to their feet to follow her, Catrin took them through the drawing room door out into the courtyard, then over to the wide door which gave access to the big, dusty room in the north wing.
Pryce stood behind her, as Catrin opened the door. “It is not locked?” he asked.
“No one locks their doors here, Inspector,” Nevern said. “This is not Carmarthen. Or London.”
Catrin opened the door and stepped through. She was instantly assailed by the stench of dust and disuse and wrinkled her nose.
Pryce moved into the clear space in the room’s center, his hands behind his back once more. He turned on one heel, studying the room, as everyone else filed in behind him and ranged around the open area.
“Has this room been disturbed since you were last here, Miss Davies?” Pryce asked.
“I’m afraid I did not commit the room to memory before I left it,” Catrin replied. “There were three of us moving about, reading labels and discussing the cleaning of the place.”
“You did not clean it?”
“We decided it was too large a task and would find another day to tackle it,” Catrin admitted.
“So two people are also aware of the artefacts in here,” Pryce murmured.
“Only…” Catrin began and hesitated.
Pryce raised his brow.
Catrin realized she had committed herself. There was no choice but to finish her sentence. “We found this room after Blodwen died,” she said.
Pryce nodded. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I presume none of you have noticed what I saw the moment I stepped inside?”
Everyone looked at him, with blank expressions.
Pryce pointed to the farthest shadowed corner, where the tea chests and crates were stacked the highest. “Look beyond the crates, to the very corner itself,” he said.
Behind the crates, jutting above them by only a few inches, was a gleaming dragon’s head.
“The staff!” Catrin cried. She whirled to face the Inspector. “I swear it was not there before. I would have noticed! I would have been pleased to recognize the staff from Daniel’s letters.”
Pryce gave her a small smile. “I believe you, Miss Davies, for shuffles and tracks in the dust lead right to the corner. Someone has climbed up there to get the horn…and return it.”
Horror swept through her with chilled fingers.
Pryce glanced swiftly at Daniel from under his brow. “May we search the room, Mr. Williams?”
“If you can stand the dust, be my guest,” Daniel replied. “I will step outside, if it is all the same to you.” He rubbed his temple with harsh, digging movements of his fingers.
“I would prefer that you do,” Devlin Pryce replied. He removed his coat and worked on his cuffs.
“Catrin…” Daniel murmured.
She hurried after Daniel, as Pryce carefully hung his coat over the corner of a tea chest and turned to lift the nearest crate lid away. As she passed her father, Rhys gave her a tight, hard little smile she susp
ected he meant to be reassuring. The worry in his eyes negated the smile.
Her heart still hurting, Catrin moved out into the courtyard with Daniel.
He stood with his back to the house and lifted his chin to peer at the sky and let out a great, gusty breath.
The driver, still sitting upon the plinth, lowered his pipe, watching Daniel with open curiosity. The sweet smell of his tobacco wafted across to them. It was a far more pleasant smell than the dust in the room.
Catrin waited for Daniel to notice her once more. The scar on his cheek was deep red in the daylight. The lumps and bumps were even more angrily red than the thin line they followed. The skin about his mouth drew upward, while the flesh about the other end of the scar, by his temple, had a taut appearance, like a hide stretched over a drum.
His colorless eyes settled on her face.
With a jolt, Catrin realized he was looking at her squarely. He had forgotten to hide his face from her by turning to one side.
“This looks very bad, Daniel,” she breathed.
He nodded.
The door to the room opened and Pryce emerged, carrying his jacket.
“Already…?” Catrin whispered.
Behind Pryce, Simon stumbled out onto the gravel. On the flat of his hand laid a large gentleman’s white cotton handkerchief, which shielded his hand. On the handkerchief laid a dark iron implement with four curved tines which glistened….
“The claw,” Catrin said, fear gripping her throat.
Pryce came up to them. “It wasn’t hidden at all. It was in one of the first crates we opened,” he told Daniel. He put his jacket on and settled it. “The blood and other…material on it is fresh, still.”
Catrin took Daniel’s arm. She didn’t care who saw.
Pryce considered Daniel. “You left the room before I could ask you to. The dust…it bothers you.”
It wasn’t a question. Pryce examined Daniel’s scar closely.
Daniel frowned. “Everything bothers me, Inspector. Dust. Smoke. Light. Noise.” He shrugged.
“The cold of the hills at night being an exception?”
“The cold bothers me, too,” Daniel said flatly. “At first. Walking helps and after that, it stops hurting.”
Pryce tugged at his cuffs, putting them back into place beneath his jacket sleeves. He nodded, as if this was not a surprise to him. “I’ve seen such wounds before, of course,” he told Daniel. “My sergeant had a short one on his neck which would ache and warn him of bad weather. You might try applying oil to yours, Mr. Williams. It helped my sergeant. I even saw him rub axle grease into it when he could not find oil.”
Daniel’s gaze slithered toward Catrin.
“Ah, I can see Miss Davies is ahead of me on that point,” Pryce said, his tone light.
“Are you about to arrest me, Inspector?” Daniel asked.
“You cannot!” Catrin cried. “Inspector, Daniel could not have killed Finn Doherty. He was with me, last night.”
“No, Catrin,” Daniel breathed.
Pryce’s eyes narrowed down into bright, sharp slivers. He drew in a slow breath, then looked around the yard. No one was in the yard but the three of them and the driver. Simon had taken the claw into the house and the other men must have returned to the drawing room through the internal halls. Through the windows, she could see them moving about the fire.
Pryce looked at the driver sitting on the plinth base. “Find another seat out of ear shot.”
The driver got to his feet. “Right you are, then.” He walked away, trailing pipe smoke.
Pryce put his hands behind his back and faced Catrin. “You must be careful about such confessions, Miss Davies.”
“It is true, Inspector. Why must I be cautious about the truth?”
“Because it can harm you more than it can help Mr. Williams.”
“How can that be? He was with me, in my bed. He was not out killing Finn Doherty!”
Pryce raised his hand, gesturing for silence.
“Catrin, stop,” Daniel said, plucking her hand from his arm. “He’s right. Such declarations won’t help.”
Her temper stirred in her belly and her chest. She wanted to beat her fists upon something to vent her frustration. “Explain it to me, if you can, Inspector.”
Pryce’s gaze was speculative. He did not react to her cold tone. “Your claim lies only between the three of us here. I will speak to the driver, later. He will not repeat what he heard. For now, that is as far as the truth will spread. Let me explain, as you wish. You say Mr. Williams was in your company last night?”
“Yes.”
“All night, Miss Davies? From supper to sunrise?”
Her anger drained. Fear gripped her throat once more. “No,” she whispered. “Not all of it.”
“When did Mr. Williams arrive?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was asleep. It was…I think it was extremely late.” She turned to Daniel helplessly. “Daniel…”
Daniel took her hand and her heart skittered in surprise. “You tried,” he breathed. “That is the important thing.”
Catrin glared at Pryce. “Trying is not enough,” she said shortly. “When did Finn Doherty die, Inspector? Can you tell from the…remains? If we know the time, then we could be more precise about our locations.”
Pryce’s gaze shifted from Daniel to Catrin and back. He had not failed to observe Catrin’s hand in Daniel’s. “Dr. Jones can only say for certain it happened sometime last night. It is a fact I have asked him to refine with a closer examination of the body. It is why I sent him back to the surgery when I first arrived, for you are quite correct, Miss Davies—a specific time will narrow down the possibilities.”
“How good at his work is Dr. Jones?” Catrin demanded.
“Catrin…” Daniel breathed.
Pryce merely seemed amused. “I have known Trevor Jones for more than fifty years,” he said gently. “He was one of the finest surgeons in the army.”
Catrin thought of Gethin Merrick’s faint disdain for the ship’s surgeon who had worked on Daniel’s wound. Would he feel the same about army surgeons? “Then you will arrest Daniel,” she concluded.
“Not quite yet,” Pryce replied, startling her and Daniel, for Daniel drew in a quick breath. “Finding the carnyx and the bagh nakh with blood on it…it is far too convenient. It doesn’t sit well with me.” He ran his gaze up and down Daniel’s body. “You are not a stupid man, yet the tossing of weapons of murder into an unlocked room is the height of stupidity, unless one intended they be easily found.”
“They were put there to be found,” Catrin breathed.
“Perhaps,” Pryce said, his tone cautious. “I cannot discount your erratic behavior, Mr. Williams, no matter what the cause.” Again, his gaze shifted to Daniel’s cheek. “You find dust a bother. And your mental state might well be that you care for nothing but the cessation of pain. You might well have tossed the weapons back into the room because you no longer cared about the consequences.”
Daniel swallowed. “If I no longer cared, I would confess, would I not?”
“Indeed, Mr. Williams. The absence of a confession is the only reason I have not arrested you yet.” Pryce headed for the door to the house.
Daniel stepped in front of Catrin. “Two-thirty in the morning, Inspector.”
Pryce turned back to Daniel.
“That is when I arrived back at the house last night,” Daniel added. “I saw the clock in the front hall as I went upstairs.”
“And the night Miss Jones died?”
“It takes that long every night, Inspector.”
“Takes as long for what, Mr. Williams?”
“For me to feel numb enough to sleep.”
Pryce’s expression didn’t change, although Catrin spotted an empathetic gleam in his eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Williams.”
Catrin turned to Daniel as Pryce moved inside. “Why did you do that?” she demanded. “Now he will find out when Finn died, and he will know you
were out on the hills then.”
“Or Finn died after I returned to the house and my innocence will be completely established,” Daniel replied. “It is a gamble, Cat, but truth is the only hand I have to play.”
Chapter Twenty
Inspector Pryce and his entourage left in Nevern’s smart black carriage shortly after. Catrin did not see them off. Instead, she picked up Daniel’s hand and drew him upstairs and into his big bedroom.
She picked up the cup of oil which sat untouched on the little round table, right where she had expected it to be. She turned to Daniel. “Let me apply this. It will help.”
Daniel’s jaw worked. He shifted his feet. It was an unconscious movement which resulted in his head turning so his scarred cheek was not visible to her. “There is no need.”
“I could see out in the sun that the skin is drawn tight and you have been rubbing your temple almost continuously. Oil will not harm you and it might help. Let me try, Daniel.”
He held out his hand. “I can do it.” His voice was rough.
She held onto the cup. “I won’t shrivel if I touch the scar,” she said as gently as she could. “It is a part of you. I have touched every other part of you, yet remain whole and in good health.”
His cheek hollowed, as if he was fighting not to smile. Heat smoldered in his eyes.
Catrin recalled moments from last night, when she had seen the heat at full force. Her body grew warm in remembrance. She cleared her throat.
Still, Daniel remained where he was, his shoulder turned toward her. She realized he could not bring himself to present his cheek to her, so she stepped around him and dipped her finger in the oil. “Keep still,” she said. “Oil will ruin your jacket, if you jerk and make me spill it.”
“Softly,” he breathed, fear in his voice.
Catrin nodded. “As gently as I can.” She stroked the skin beside the scar with her oil-ladened finger, letting the oil spread across the flesh. She concentrated on the tightly drawn skin about his temple, then down the length of the scar, dipping her finger into the cup for more oil as she needed it.
With the flesh beside the scar addressed, she turned to the scar itself. Catrin dipped her finger back into the oil, then lightly touched the top of the scar where the red lumpy flesh began. She let the oil slide from her finger to spread over the flesh.
Degree of Solitude Page 20