Deadly Curious

by Cindy Anstey

  “Actually, I was distracted by a white object, and then I fell into a rather deep hole.” She stepped back, spreading her skirts to show that it was ingrained with dirt. “I’m the instrument of my own disaster. Had I not been so curious, I would not have been in such a perilous situation.” She glanced at her cousin, hoping for some moral support.

  “We were very glad to hear of your survival,” Daphne said, making a valiant attempt at nonchalance. Though her tone made it amply clear that her words were an understatement.

  Sophia’s survival had been announced some hours earlier, when shovels and more helping hands had been sought and she missed the “party,” as William described it. A loud, joyful, and spontaneous celebration that apparently involved Daphne skipping from room to room and Aunt Hazel singing the “Hallelujah Chorus.”

  The family had come rushing into the front entrance upon her arrival, and now she stood before them all in her glory. Glory meaning … covered in mud.

  Sophia knew that she was a disaster, but had not realized to what degree until a laughing Daphne had guided her to the ornate framed mirror at the back of the hall.

  The creature staring at her in the mirror was almost unrecognizable, and Sophia thanked the heavens, once again, that her mother had not come to West Ravenwood.

  “I might consider a wash,” Sophia said airily, turning to see that the mud streaked down her side, across the back of her skirt, and collected at her hem. “And what is this, a hole in my sleeve? The gown is in total ruin,” she huffed in disgust. Not one of her favorites but it had been practical and demure—exactly the image she wanted to project as a Bow Street Runner. Now she would have to get another.

  Shifting her gaze back to the mirror, Sophia’s eyes met those of Jeremy’s in the reflection. She was puzzled by his expression. There seemed to be admiration in his eyes, despite her thoroughly mucky condition, and his smile was gentle; it turned her insides into melted butter. She wanted to turn and wrap her arms around him. Feel the thrum of his heart against her cheek and perhaps even … even place her lips on his—

  “I can lend you one of my gowns,” Daphne offered.

  Sophia shook her head, pulling her thoughts from Jeremy and his lips. “Thank you, but no. There is no need.”

  She left the group chatting companionably in the entry as she headed to her bedroom. Though Sophia could feel Jeremy’s eyes on her as he watched her climb the stairs, she did not turn until she was halfway to the first floor. When she did glance over her shoulder, Jeremy offered her an elegant and well-executed bow.

  Plodding up the remainder of the stairs, Sophia decided that there might be side benefits to becoming a Bow Street Detective … such as spending time in the company of a Bow Street Officer by the name of Jeremy Fraser.

  * * *

  Mr. Reyer paid a visit to Allenton Park the next morning not long after Jeremy had joined Sophia and the family in the drawing room. Wearing a thoroughly rumpled jacket, the surgeon appeared wrinkled and tired, as if he had been up all night. Constable Marley was at his side, and they both looked decidedly uncomfortable.

  “Perhaps a private interview would be best, Mr. Waverley,” the constable suggested, looking around the room at all its occupants. The whole family was present, including Papa—even William had joined them. Sophia sat with Daphne on the settee, needlework in hand.

  “No, no need,” Uncle Edward said, waving toward Aunt Hazel. “They’ll want to know everything you say anyway, so they might as well have it from the horse’s mouth.”

  Constable Marley did not look pleased by the association to a horse, mouth, or otherwise. Still, he shrugged. “As you wish.” He turned to the surgeon. “Go ahead,” he said with a flick of his hand. “Let’s get the medical stuff over with first.”

  “Indeed.” Mr. Reyer patted his coat pockets and pulled out a small but thick notebook, though he barely looked at it, and began to speak as if delivering a lecture. “I’m happy to say that most of the skeleton was found. I put it together in my cold room last night.”

  He yawned as if to demonstrate how time-consuming the process had been. “A few fingers were missing, but for the most part the body was intact. Unfortunately, it became abundantly clear how the man died. There was a deep groove along the collarbone, one such as a knife blade would make. It was exactly where an artery is located. The man would have bled out very quickly. Another murder victim, I’m afraid, though from many years ago … perhaps as much as fifteen or twenty years.”

  The room was silent for a moment; the only sound was that of family members shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Sophia looked from person to person, gauging their reaction to see if anyone was in great distress and in need of reassurance. Fortunately, Constable Marley allowed the news to settle before stepping forward to continue.

  “So, the first question is who this person might be.” He held out a chain and medallion. “This was found next to the body, along with several tin buttons. The medallion is, in fact, a coin from the Dutch East Indies with a hole drilled through it to accommodate the chain. There are no inhabitants of the East Indies in West Ravenwood, and there never have been, so I was told.

  “However, there were several sailors who ventured to the other side of the world from here. One man, in particular, was recalled for speaking about the islands in the South Seas with enough nostalgia that he might wear such a thing as a keepsake. Few remember him, as he sailed away almost twenty years ago—”

  “Sailed away?” Jeremy asked, startling the deeply engrossed listeners.

  “Yes, he left after telling everyone he was going off to some place called Bali. Though, he never actually said goodbye. That were almost twenty years ago. He’d been talking about going out to sea again and it were assumed that he had done so. No one I spoke with recalls hearing anything from him after that.”

  “This is starting to sound familiar.” Uncle Edward was sitting forward in his chair, his eyes focused on the constable. “Are you talking about Howard Tuff? He worked here as an under-gardener for two summers … a few years—”

  “Yes, a few years after we were married,” Aunt Hazel chimed in. “That was over twenty years ago. There was quite a fuss when he disappeared; he didn’t say goodbye to anyone … not even Mrs. Curtis. Being a housemaid, we called her Pearl at that time. Yes, I remember Tuff and Pearl were quite sweet on each other. Perhaps we should ask Mrs. Curtis if she ever heard from him…”

  Aunt Hazel’s voice trailed off as she glanced around the room. “Though a little more privacy would be kinder.”

  Daphne nodded and stood. “Shall we check on the new litter of pups, William?”

  Her brother rose immediately, straightening down his waistcoat as if he meant business. “Yes, indeed. I might pick one out for Charlotte. She needs a companion, don’t you think?” It was a rhetorical question and as such received no reply as they stepped into the hall.

  “Come, Warren. Let us find Mrs. Curtis.” Aunt Hazel gave Uncle Edward a significant look—which Sophia did not understand—and then turned back to Constable Marley. “I’ll send Mrs. Curtis in to talk with you.”

  Constable Marley nodded with approval as the party’s numbers dwindled, standing straighter, chest thrown out, preparing to exert his authority. He glared at Sophia when she did not leave with the others. He harrumphed—loudly—and suggested that this might not be a meeting in which Sophia would wish to participate.

  “I will listen but not interfere, Mr. Marley,” Sophia said with such finality that no one else offered an objection. Jeremy frowned slightly, but nodded.

  Uncle Edward stood, paced in front of the unlit fireplace, and chuntered to himself. “Tuff disappeared. Took his belongings with him. The skeleton can’t be Tuff—someone would have noticed, missed him. They would have sent for the authorities. No, it can’t be Tuff.”

  The knock, when it came, caused a flurry of furtive glances. Sophia held her breath and watched Jeremy do the same.

  * * *

 
Jeremy was not surprised when Constable Marley tried to take control of the interview. The constable stepped forward, greeted the housekeeper, and then—without an explanation—passed her the medallion dangling from its chain.

  Mrs. Curtis stood straight and proud. She glanced at the object in her hand, started in surprise and looked again. The hard lines of her face disappeared as she held the coin gently cupped in her hands. “Where did you find this?” she asked in a near whisper.

  Jeremy watched with discomfort as Constable Marley spoke in a churlish manner to the housekeeper, announcing that he would be the one to ask the questions. Many people did not believe the working classes deserved delicate handling or kindness, even in such circumstances.

  While Jeremy was not surprised by the constable’s approach, he was quite taken aback by Mr. Waverley. Mrs. Curtis had been in the Allenton household for decades, and yet Mr. Waverley did not step in, did not try to tone down the derisive attitude of Constable Marley. Jeremy was incensed and near to causing a fuss on the woman’s behalf.

  “When did you last hear from Howard Tuff?” Marley asked brusquely.

  Jeremy stood and took up a position by the fireplace. “I’m afraid the medallion was discovered in the bottom of a ditch, Mrs. Curtis,” he said, glaring at Marley before returning his attention to the housekeeper. “Miss Thompson’s accident yesterday involved a trench, as you know. The trench was, in fact, an old trap—a large one in a secluded area. The kind used for deer some twenty or so years ago. It could not have been an area much visited, or the trap would have been discovered long ago. It was likely built by poachers.”

  “Hunters,” Mrs. Curtis corrected. “They were hunters then … only poachers since the enclosures.” Her voice was strong again—ready to fight, ready to argue.

  “I stand corrected,” Jeremy said, slowly walking between Marley and Mrs. Curtis, establishing that the interview was now in his hands. He could not leave it to Marley; the man was inept and would get no answers by browbeating the housekeeper.

  “But Howard left twenty years ago,” she said, and then touched the medallion on her palm. “He always wore this—how did it get in a ditch?”

  Jeremy chewed at the inside of his cheek, and then breathed deeply through his nose. “There was a body with it, Mrs. Curtis. The bones were weathered, as if they had been there a very long time.”

  He paused for a moment to let the information sink in. He did not want to press the point too quickly. “Could you tell us when Tuff left West Ravenwood and if you’ve heard from him since?”

  Mrs. Curtis glanced around the room, looking at each of the occupants in turn. When her eyes lit on Sophia, the housekeeper nodded. It was a slight movement, likely unintended. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she continued to meet Sophia’s eyes.

  “I thought we were to be married, but Howard started talking about going back to sea. I was nearing the end of my thirties and despite our differences, I thought we were well suited.” The older woman pulled a handkerchief from under her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t know why he had wanderlust. It was unexpected. For him and me. Suddenly, all he talked about was the color of the Pacific Ocean, islands covered in palm trees, and mangoes growing by the dozens. Wanted me to see it with him.”

  She snorted. “As if I could … really! Me, traipsing around the world, as if that were a normal life. A satisfying life?” She glanced back at Sophia, likely expecting some sort of agreement, and then shook her head. “Said if I wouldn’t come, he would go without me, and then one day … he was gone and I never heard from him again. A letter explaining why he left so abruptly would have been kind—but he never contacted me again. I thought of him sitting on a tropical island somewhere with a parcel of children at his knee, getting fat and useless. And now you’re saying that he never left England?” She looked over at the gentlemen. “Why was he in a ditch?”

  “It would seem that he were killed, Mrs. Curtis. Murdered. There be signs of a knifing, and no belongings in the rubble.” Constable Marley shifted his weight, rocking side to side. “Now, we need the reason why he was killed. Did he have an argument with anyone at Allenton or West Ravenwood? Could he have been robbed? Did he usually travel with a quantity of coin?”

  “No, no, and no,” Mrs. Curtis said. “No argument, and nothing for robbers. We were dirt poor, but we were going to be happy. Or so I thought.”

  With a nod of finality, Mrs. Curtis dismissed the subject of Howard Tuff. “That was twenty years ago. Times have changed. People have changed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to see Cook about Mrs. Waverley’s apple pie.”

  And with that, Mrs. Curtis marched to the door, looking nothing like the fractured and heart-heavy woman of moments earlier.

  * * *

  “We need to be certain, Mr. Waverley. While it is logical to assume that the body is that of Howard Tuff, tin buttons and a medallion don’t make it a certainty.”

  Jeremy was advocating for further investigation of the ditch after the departure of Mr. Reyer and Constable Marley, who criticized the idea as pointless.

  “We also have to look around and try to understand why there were lights shining through the woods in the middle of the night,” Jeremy continued. “I believe the lights were meant to be a lure, to bring Miss Thompson into the woods late at night. Though why is up for debate. I’ve spoken to Benton and learned that there are no other occupied bedrooms with windows facing in this direction. The glow of her bedroom lamp would have shown her to still be up. I can only wonder how long the villain stood in the woods trying to encourage a late-night stroll.”

  “This is not your case, Mr. Fraser,” Uncle Edward replied. “You’re here to investigate the death of my son, not that of Howard Tuff. I’ll write to the justice of Thersby and ask after the Tuffs. Marley believes too much time has passed to make it possible to solve this particular case, and I don’t disagree. But it must be attempted. As to why, I don’t believe that Sophia was targeted at all. The poachers were likely hunting, and Sophia just happened to see their lamps.”

  “But no one poaches the east woods, especially at night, Uncle,” Sophia said. “I asked Mr. Quinn. Old traps were known to litter the grounds—something that was not mentioned to me before this—” She glared at her uncle with accusation in her eyes. “A decade or two ago, some were found and filled in or dismantled. But it was known generally that there were more and the area was dangerous.”

  Uncle Edward chuckled. “I fostered that belief; it kept them away.”

  “With good reason, apparently,” Sophia said rather heatedly, not best pleased with her uncle’s attitude.

  “The source of the lights needs to be investigated,” Jeremy said, sounding official and determined.

  “No. You need to go about your own business. About the business of solving my son’s murder—and that of Mr. Stacks and Bertha Tumbler.”

  “Quite right, Uncle,” Sophia said, placing her hand on Jeremy’s arm. She tugged him into a walk, ignored his halfhearted protest, and marched him to the front hall.

  “You won’t win that argument,” she said, without turning toward him. “Uncle is focused on Andrew, and you need to show that you are, too.”

  “But—” Jeremy began.

  “We’ll get Aunt Hazel to take care of it.”

  “What am I to take care of?” Aunt Hazel asked as she and Daphne walked into the front hall from the opposite direction. They had changed and were dressed finer than was traditional for late morning, in gowns embellished with lace, pleats, and in Daphne’s case, bows.

  “A more thorough search of the trench,” Sophia replied quickly, before Jeremy could complain that Uncle Edward frowned on the idea.

  “Oh. I’m ahead of you. I’ve already sent two gardeners to complete the job. They’ll shift through the rest of the muck and get it done before the fair this afternoon.”

  “Excell—” Sophia started to say but was cut off.

  “You must get ready, cousin,” Daphne said, alt
hough there was no excitement in her expression, only anxiety. “For the fair.”

  “Fair?” Jeremy asked, tipping his head as if seeing Daphne from a different angle would supply the answer. “Already? I thought it was next week … But I have been much occupied.”

  Daphne scowled. “Indeed, you have. Time has slipped away on you. The fair was always scheduled to start today. The excitement—for some—is extreme. Town has been talking about it for days.” She waved her hand toward the door, in the general direction of West Ravenwood. “It’s a country fair that we host in the north field—it is supposed to start this afternoon and run for two days. All the Waverleys and Thompsons have to participate. Father will give a speech, the mayor will make announcements, and the townsfolk will sell their wares. Booths with games … lots of senseless frivolity.” She harrumphed. “I can’t think of a worse time for such foolishness.”

  “Nonsense, the distraction will be just what everyone needs,” Aunt Hazel said, crossing the hall and walking toward the drawing room. “Besides, the farmers still need to sell their crops, tradesmen need to be hired, and children need to get into mischief.”

  And with that declaration, Aunt Hazel entered the drawing room, joining Uncle Edward and Sophia’s father.

  “A few months ago, I thought the fair such a grand scheme, but not any longer,” Daphne said, turning to face Sophia. “I would prefer to hide for the next two days. There will be too many people, too many chances for some nefarious deed—”

  “But your parents are the hosts, and you’re expected to put in an appearance.” Sophia could not imagine her cousin being anything but enthusiastic about an occasion in which she could flirt and be flattered.

  “I’ve secured a new driver for my coach,” Jeremy said. “You might feel less vulnerable in a carriage than walking or on horseback, even though the distance is not great.”