by Rebecca King
Weeks winced and helped himself to a healthy dose of brandy. Downing it, he refilled it and turned to face the room. It was then that he saw the looks the men traded.
“I don’t usually drink, but after the morning I have just had I need something.” His hand trembled a little as he made his way across the room and rested his hips precariously against a dainty side-table beside his favourite window.
If he was honest, he felt rather small and insignificant in the presence of such powerful men. While he hadn’t been sure what to expect, it hadn’t been anything like the men from the Star Elite. They were all well over six feet tall, with powerful builds and a no-nonsense air of command about them that was almost lethal. Weeks knew immediately that they would draw attention but couldn’t quite make his mind up if that would be a good thing or not. They positively screamed authority, and raw menace that would worry everyone. He wasn’t sure the villagers would want to talk to men who looked so damned threatening. He also suspected that his involvement in their investigation would be essential if they wanted to get any information out of the villagers.
“There isn’t a celebration in the village, I am afraid,” he declared solemnly. “A young girl in the village was found dead today. This morning as a matter of fact.”
“Who by?”
“Where?”
“Is she a local girl?”
Weeks flinched at the rapid flow of the questions the men fired at him. He lifted a hand to stave off yet more when the demands seemed endless, and quickly told them everything he knew.
“We will need to see the body,” Jasper declared suddenly.
“Of course, you may. I don’t know what you will find, though. It is clear the cause of death was strangulation. There were ligature marks around her neck. But we need a rough time of death and, of course, a certificate issuing.
“Why else do you know?” Justin asked curiously.
Weeks looked at the tall man with the fair hair and tanned complexion. He was, without doubt, the tallest there, and the most powerfully built. There was a ruthless no-nonsense air about him that warned Weeks he was the leader of this group of fighters. Because of that, Weeks wasted no time telling him everything he knew.
“Most of the villagers formed a search party and spent the night looking for the girl, Felicity her name is – was, so the streets are a lot quieter today than they usually would be. I made an announcement in the tavern once I had been to see the family. The family didn’t want us to withhold any information, you see, especially because the villagers were out looking for her. I think they wanted the village to be informed so they were left in peace, so they can try to come to terms with what has happened. They are devastated, as I am sure you will understand,” Weeks declared starkly, not least because he didn’t want the men turning up and unwittingly terrifying the Insons.
Jasper studied the man and read his underlying concern. “We are discrete,” he assured him.
The doubt on the lawman’s face told Jasper everything he needed to know in that Weeks clearly didn’t think the group could move quickly and quietly amongst the villagers in a place like Bicester. If he was honest, he didn’t think it was at all possible either, but he would never admit it to a man like Weeks.
There was something about the magistrate that while officious, was somewhat bumbling and a little uncertain. It was clear recent events had shaken him, and he had a personal involvement given the villagers, people he called neighbours, were being affected. Even so, there was not much in the way of professionalism about the man. In fact, he seemed somewhat vague, as if he was flummoxed to know how to handle the situation. Jasper suspected Justin felt the same because his colleague, who was usually a very good judge of character, was studying Weeks carefully, as though weighing up what to tell him.
“It’s what we do,” Angus assured him.
“We won’t tread on anybody’s toes but do need to get people to talk to us,” Callum warned darkly. “This is a murder investigation now.”
“But we are not sure the rest have been murdered,” Weeks protested.
He fell silent when he met the swarthy man’s dark eyes and read the dire warning hidden within. He knew instantly that this man – Callum - was someone who could be quite ruthless if he needed to be and suddenly didn’t want to do, or say, anything that might upset him. Nervously, he shifted his gaze to Justin, the apparent leader of the group, only to wince when he realised Justin was also looking at him. For some strange reason, Weeks wanted to tug at his collar and confess his sins, and he hadn’t done anything wrong.
I have no idea how they do it, but it is damned impressive, he thought ruefully.
“I think I had better assist you with some of the locals,” Weeks announced suddenly. “They are angry right now, and disturbed. There have been talks of a night watch being set up to walk the streets. While I don’t condone it because I don’t want the public taking matters into their own hands, if it helps to keep the peace and stops anybody else being murdered then I cannot see there being anything wrong with it. Of course, it is going to make your job harder if you wish to move about at night.”
Justin grinned. The sudden mirth on his handsome features together with the brief flash of his straight white teeth made Weeks blink.
“That won’t cause us any problems,” Justin snorted with smug confidence.
“We usually work undercover,” Phillip added. “It is what we excel at.”
“We can work around the watch, if they decide to set one up,” Angus declared. “It would help us tremendously if they did set up a night watch like that because we then don’t have to guard anybody ourselves. As long as nobody works alone, I cannot see there being any issues. We can then go about our business knowing the villagers will look after themselves.”
“In a place like this our biggest enemy is stopping the gossips from targeting any specific person,” Weeks sighed. “They would form a vigilante gang, I am sure of it.”
“Do you have any other new arrivals in the village? Do you have any clues as to who would do something like this to her?” Oliver asked quietly.
Weeks shook his head. “Her father said she had been happy. When she had left the house for the last time she told her parents she was going to see a friend over in the next village. She had promised she would be back before nightfall. She is – was – usually dependable. Felicity wasn’t a reckless girl. Immature maybe, but not foolish.”
Aaron lifted a hand. “She didn’t have a chaperone?”
Weeks frowned. “It isn’t really necessary in a small place like this. Everybody knows everybody else. I can assure you that we usually do a commendable job in keeping the streets safe. I wouldn’t have seen fit to call you in if it hadn’t been for Henry over in Derbyshire having received several reports of disappearances as well, and we realising they were all in the same area. We tried to look into this ourselves, but there is such a damned lack of evidence we are both stuck.”
“You don’t have anything?” Justin asked, his frown heavy.
“Not a damned thing,” Weeks sighed.
“How many have you had now?” Angus asked.
“Henry Mooreland over in Derbyshire has had two young girls, and a young boy called Oscar. I have had two disappearances still, and of course Felicity, now deceased,” Weeks replied. A shiver of unease settled over him. It unnerved him so greatly he wandered over to his desk and slumped into the chair behind it. For a moment, he stared blankly at the highly polished surface of his desk but couldn’t get his mind to settle on anything. Not even the men before him.
“Give us some details of who has vanished first, then we can decide if we are looking for a kidnapper and a killer, or if we are looking for a kidnapper who likes to kill,” Justin ordered quietly.
For a moment, the men didn’t think Weeks was going to answer. Eventually, he looked up and appeared to be every day of his seven and fifty years.
“Could I just ask why it was you who sent for us and not Henry Moorel
and, the magistrate in Derbyshire?” Callum interrupted.
Weeks looked at him. “I know Sir Hugo,” he replied honestly. “When Oscar vanished without a trace and, yet again, we found no clues to help us, both Henry and I realised we needed assistance. There are no clues, you see? I have no witnesses, no dropped belongings, no signs of a struggle, not a damned thing. It is most odd, I don’t mind telling you, and I don’t like it at all. Mooreland feels the same. This is so unusual that we both agreed we need expert assistance. You dealt with Sayers, and there was nobody more cunning than he.”
The men nodded.
“So, Mooreland and I decided to send for you, and we need every second of your expertise if we are going to catch this fellow. Whoever he is, wherever he comes from, the damned menace is a shadow,” Weeks muttered, his voice laden with disgust.
Angus suddenly beamed at him. “Well, you called in the right men then. We are good at fighting shadows.”
CHAPTER THREE
“Who was the first person to go missing?” Justin asked. He watched Oliver remove a small notebook from his pocket and prepare to take notes.
Weeks sighed and ran a hand down his weathered face.
“The first to go missing is a young woman called Geraldine. She is the oldest of all of them.”
“How old is she?” Oliver asked, scribbling furiously.
“Four and twenty,” Weeks replied.
“She married a farmer, and lives – lived – on their farm with her husband, Curtis,” Weeks added.
“Hair colour?”
“Dark brown.”
“Eyes?”
“Green.”
“Height.”
“About up to your shoulder,” he sighed, with a nod to Justin.
“A farmer’s wife, you said?” Oliver murmured.
Weeks nodded.
“What happened?”
“She went out painting one day and didn’t come back. Her husband went out to look for her and found her painting things, but she was nowhere to be found. Nobody has seen her since,” Weeks replied
“From the village?” Angus asked.
Weeks nodded. “Her farm is just over the hill. You must have passed it on the way into the village. It sits about a quarter of a mile away from the road but is visible from there.”
Justin nodded even though he couldn’t remember it.
“Who next?”
“A young girl called Marilyn Alton. She is three and twenty.”
“Married?” Justin asked.
Weeks shook his head. “She is a spinster and lives with her mother.”
“From here as well?” Justin frowned.
“No. She comes from Daltrey in Derbyshire. She went into the village to get some supplies, never made it back.” Weeks’ voice grew darker the more he spoke.
Justin nodded. “Any friends? Any suitors?”
Weeks shook his head slowly. The look in his eye warned them all they were going to get no helpful information because none had been found.
Justin squinted at the ceiling. “Let me guess, she just vanished. Nobody heard or saw an altercation.”
Weeks nodded, his lips pursed with the force of his disquiet. “Not a damned thing.”
Angus whistled softly. “It’s odd.”
“There was one thing I meant to tell you about Geraldine Bennion.” Weeks hesitated as though he wasn’t sure how to tell them.
“Go on,” Callum prodded when the magistrate didn’t immediately speak.
“You need to watch out for the sister. Geraldine’s, that is,” Weeks added.
“Why?”
“She is adamant Curtis Bennion killed his wife. I have told her that her sister’s disappearance had all the hallmarks of a kidnap, but Miss Clarkson won’t have it. There is no body, you see? I have tried to find out if Geraldine was just unhappy in her marriage and decided to leave but not tell her family, but Miss Clarkson is adamant her husband killed her. She doesn’t seem inclined to believe we are doing everything we can to find out what happened from Geraldine’s husband. Unfortunately, she seems to have taken it upon herself to look for her.”
Jasper’s ears pricked up at the disgust in the magistrate’s voice. He waited until the man had rolled a quill around his desk for a moment or two, and then asked his question.
“What has she been doing to interfere?” Justin wondered if he needed to go and reassure the woman that a professional lawman was working on the case. He had to wonder whether Weeks had much, if any, of the villagers’ trust and that was what had prompted him to look for help. Whatever the case, Justin couldn’t afford to have any outside interference.
“She has been told to be careful because this is a kidnapper we are dealing with. If she vanishes too she won’t be in any position to help her sister, now will she? But the damned fool woman won’t listen. She keeps going to the farm to look around, and has been asking around the village, making insinuations as it were. She has been at odds with that brother-in-law of hers for some years now, but I don’t know why before you ask,” Weeks added when Oliver opened his mouth. “She – Miss Clarkson - is adamant her sister told her she wanted a divorce only a few days before she vanished. She says Geraldine was so miserable she was prepared to accept divorce and ride out the scandal it would cause. Of course, Mr Bennion, according to Miss Clarkson, objected to it. Suddenly, Mrs Bennion – Geraldine - vanished.”
“Maybe she ran off,” Jasper suggested. “If she was miserable and wanted out of her marriage, maybe she disappeared so she wouldn’t have to live in a marriage she didn’t want.”
Weeks nodded for a moment or two but then looked ruefully back at him. “I am afraid Mr Bennion is adamant there was no discord between him and his wife, and that there was never any mention of divorce. He claims Miss Clarkson has always had a vendetta against him and is trying to sully his name. It is all family business, but, given we haven’t found a body yet, have to keep our options open. Unfortunately, that doesn’t help Miss Clarkson.”
“It’s a safe assumption to still assume Geraldine has been kidnapped,” Justin replied. “Of course, it won’t help if she goes around upsetting people by trying to point a finger at Mr Bennion, especially now that the young girl has been found dead.”
“Was this Felicity anywhere near the Bennion farm?” Oliver asked suddenly.
Weeks nodded reluctantly.
“Right next door as a matter of fact,” he replied quietly. “But I have known Mr Bennion for many years. He is a gruff fellow, but likeable enough. Many were surprised when he married. He seemed to have been fine with Geraldine. She comes from one of the oldest families in the village. It seemed like a good match. Then, of course, Miss Clarkson began to make rumblings that all was not right, and there was clear animosity between her and her brother-in-law. It was the talk of the village for a while.”
“But Mr Bennion could quite conceivably be a kidnapper and killer,” Justin pointed out. He lifted a hand when he knew Weeks was about to object. “I am not suggesting he is, you understand, but it is possible, yes?”
Weeks nodded.
Angus studied him for a moment. For now, we need to assume the two are linked. Geraldine and Felicity that is, but that is not to say that they are both dead. What about the disappearances in Derbyshire? What can you tell us about them?”
“Well, I am afraid that is where everything starts to get even more curious.”
“How so?” Justin prompted when Weeks began to rifle through papers on his desk.
Eventually, he withdrew a piece of parchment and unfolded it.
“The first to disappear there was a young woman not dissimilar in age and stature to Geraldine. She was a young lady called Dawn who was two and twenty years of age. She was working on the Earl of Carrington’s estate and didn’t turn up one morning after she had been to see her family. The housekeeper got worried and sent someone over to Dawn’s family to fetch her. Of course, it soon transpired that she had vanished between home and the Carrington estate.
Now, that has caused a rumpus I don’t mind telling you.”
“Why? Was she popular?” Angus murmured.
“No, but everyone assumes people are safe on the Lord’s estate. It has shaken everyone to learn that isn’t the case at all,” Weeks replied.
“If it can happen to the Lord’s staff it can happen to anybody, right?” Jasper said.
“Has the Lord had any involvement in the investigation, or issued any orders?” Justin asked wondering if they would need to write to Sir Hugo again.
Weeks snorted disparagingly. “He is a young snip of four and thirty who is too busy chasing skirts in London to care about his family seat. He hasn’t been back here for several months. When he does turn up, he has no interest in the workings of that which provides for him. He doesn’t give a damn what happens here, although I believe he has been told about the kidnappings.”
“Where is he now?”
“Still in London,” Weeks replied dryly.
“Anything else?” Oliver prompted when Weeks fell into thoughtful silence.
“No trace of any scuffle, no witnesses, nothing again. Just like always,” Weeks replied morosely.
“Wait!” Justin interjected. “What does this Dawn look like?”
“Oh.” Weeks rifled through his papers again. “She is small, about five feet tall, with dark brown hair and grey eyes. She has a lisp apparently, but otherwise has a sunny disposition.”
“So, they are all about the same age, give or take a year or two,” Aaron said thoughtfully.
“Hair colour is also similar.” Justin lifted his brows at Weeks, who looked down at his paper and nodded.
“Strangely, the next one to go missing was a boy,” Weeks murmured quietly. “A young man of about eleven years of age, called Oscar. He was from the hamlet of Fimmally next to Lunville.”
“Good God,” Justin sighed.
“Height?”
“Five feet.”
“Don’t tell me, he has dark hair and dark eyes?” Justin growled somewhat sarcastically.
“He has blue eyes actually, but his hair is dark brown,” Weeks replied, pursing his lips.
