Terribly Twisted Tales

by RABE, JEAN

  “Your nature betrays you, Doctor.” Lupyne shrugged off his red velvet smoking jacket and replaced it with a brown tweed that matched his trousers. “Though you are courageous beyond the norm for your people, you instinctively shy from conflict and seek the company of others. Just a hint of fear on you, Doctor, which does you no discredit. Many a foolish man has been filleted by a fishwife’s knife.”

  “But, Lupyne, anything could have caused me a fright on the way here. Before I came, perhaps.”

  “Doubtful. No trace lingers on you of the mucker-folk, whereas lavender and wet wool do. Overlay fear and fish, well, the conclusion is inescapable.” Lupyne sketched a brief bow, then kicked off his slippers and began the search for his shoes. “No matter, however. I direct you to the cable on the mantle there. Pray, remove your cloak and read by the fire so your pelt may dry.”

  I did doff my cloak but kept jacket, shirt, and waist-coat fastened. I had dried myself after bathing, hence my coat was a bit more fluffy than I am comfortable displaying. Not out of any fear of a wolf like Lupyne, but because being unkempt really did not do in polite society.

  The cable in question had arrived early that morning from Aldershot-on-Wick, an ancient village on the Eiran Sea. Earl Northcutt, Andrew Benbrook, had sent it and included instructions that an immediate reply was requested. The cable read:

  Lupyne

  A matter demands your urgent attention STOP One of your kind is accused of murder STOP He denies it STOP I need the truth STOP

  Andrew Benbrook

  Earl Northcutt

  I read it twice, wishing my eyes were as sharp as those of my companion. “What do you know of this murder?”

  Lupyne, seated again, slipped his feet into shoes and began buttoning them. “There was a mention in The Times two days ago of a Wolf being apprehended in the matter. There was no doubt to his guilt.”

  “What did he do?”

  “In transit, Woolrich, we have no time to lose. We are catching the night coach to the coast.” He pulled a cloak about himself and donned a deerstalking cap. Damping the fire, he grabbed his own luggage and into the night we flew.

  On the train, in a B carriage, we accommodated ourselves well. Two young Sea Weasels in their Royal Navy uniforms sat across from us and slept. A family of Badgers gathered at the far end, and the only Man to disturb us was the conductor. He seemed pleasant enough, and if he recognized Lupyne from his transit permits, he gave no sign at all. He did address me as “Doctor” after examining mine, and I detected no hints of sarcasm in his voice.

  Lupyne explained that T. Bruce Carrington worked for Northcutt on his estate as a gamekeeper. He was accused of murdering an old woman who lived in the woods. Her granddaughter and a woodcutter discovered the body, with Carrington standing above it, covered in blood. Because he had murdered a Man, the case would be resolved in the Higher Courts. With a jury chosen from Men, the verdict and sentence was hardly in doubt.

  We each got a little sleep, and then we were met at the station by Earl Northcutt’s coach. The driver and groom, Stoats both, proved adroit at handling the matched pair of chestnut geldings. Prior I’d only seen them handle pony carts, as befitting their size. They were pleasantly disposed, as their kind often is, and I sensed in their manner a pleasure at working for Earl Northcutt.

  Lupyne addressed the driver directly. “Would it be possible for you to take us through the woods and past the old woman’s home?”

  “The witch cave?” The groom made a sign to ward off evil.

  The driver cuffed him. “Hush, idiot. Begging my lord’s pardon, the earl asked for you to be presented to him straight away. Now, I would be willing to do as you ask, but that cave is set near no track. It would be a mile through mire and more, my lord.”

  “Very well. To Northcutt Manor, then.”

  We passed into the village and on toward the hill atop which lay Northcutt Manor. The people of Aldershot doffed caps and bowed heads as the carriage clattered down the cobblestone street. Lupyne watched for a bit and then let the shade close.

  “You would be quite welcome here, Woolrich, wouldn’t you? See some Ewe who catches your eye, settle down, raise a lamb or two?”

  I turned from the window. “There are a number of Sheep here, herding, no doubt. Aldershot wool is prized, if I recall correctly.”

  “So you do, Doctor.” My companion gave me one of his inscrutable smiles. “Some day I shall retire to the country. Not here, I think, but to the north, where places are yet wild.”

  I had, through the years, of course, heard many plans advanced for his retirement. I doubted I would live to see them come to fruition, for I was older than he, and Lupyne could never resist a challenge. And challenges constantly sought him out.

  The carriage quit the village outskirts and started up the hill. The original Northcutt holding had come down during the Civil War, but it had been rebuilt tall, strong, and square. The grounds were impeccably maintained, especially the vast beds of roses. Northcutt retained Swine to care for them, and both Boars clearly knew their work and delighted in it.

  Though the earl’s household staff appeared to be drawn from Men alone, at no point did I gain the impression that the butler or his aides thought Lupyne and I should have been received in the courtyard. We were welcomed openly in the foyer, with our cloaks and hats being taken away without hesitation. I even imagined mine would be brushed, not to collect Ram’s wool but just as would be done with any guest’s coat.

  We found the earl in his library, with tall shelves filled to bursting. Leather-bound volumes everywhere, chased in gold. I recognized a few volumes. The bindings were custom and I luxuriated in their scent despite my full knowledge that many were bound in lambskin.

  This is a misapprehension common concerning Walkers such as myself. Though Men resist the comparison, as they are to the lesser apes, so we are to our more common brethren. While I eschew mutton, it is less because it comes from an animal quite close to me than that I digest meat very poorly. The presence of lambskin gave me little concern. Were it the flesh of a Walker, then I should have serious misgivings, but the skin of a lesser ovine discomfited me not.

  The man’s florid face brightened as he turned from the fire. “Best Lupyne, I am so glad you have come.”

  They clasped hands and shook. Lupyne smiled easily. “Doctor Jameson Woolrich, Earl Northcutt.”

  “A pleasure, Doctor.” The man took my hand without hesitation, nor did he wipe after. “May I offer you something to drink? I’m having whiskey. To settle the nerves.”

  “Why is it you are nervous, sir?”

  The earl bade us sit while his butler poured us each a slant-glass of cool water. “Carrington has been with me for years. He is somewhat disreputable and inclined toward sloth, save for two things. He is, without a doubt, the most diligent gamekeeper this estate has ever seen. He’s made my woods into his territory. I should sooner expect him to kill himself than do anything to dishonor the land or my name.”

  His lordship savored some whiskey before continuing. “Second, when I was very young, I was involved in an indiscretion that does not bear examination now. Carrington saved me from a great deal of embarrassment. I do not fear his speaking out now, but out of gratitude for his silence, and in the hopes of saving my grandson some embarrassment, I should like to help Carrington.”

  Lupyne’s ears flattened. “The woman who was slain?”

  “Mrs. Smeed, though folks around here called her Grandmother, the crone, the witch, or worse. She’s been ancient since I was a boy. Back a generation or two it was common and even favored for every estate to have a hermit—a holy man, usually. In that spirit I allowed her to live there, affording her some protection against the villagers. Superstitious lot, they believed she was a witch. They came to her for cures and help, or other things.”

  “I should like to interview Carrington and then see the murder site. I would also like to interview the girl and the woodsman who found Carrington.”

&n
bsp; Northcutt nodded eagerly. “I shall arrange all that, gladly. Thank you, Best Lupyne, for your help.”

  The arrangements were made for us to interview the Wolf first, then to visit the murder site. The weather was expected to turn nasty later on, but the earl had hopes the girl and woodsman could be interviewed at the manor that evening. The coach bore us back into town, and Lupyne brought a letter of introduction to the sheriff.

  It was hardly necessary. The slender, nervous Man smiled broadly, albeit briefly. “Why Best Lupyne, word of your exploits in dealing with the West End Ripper have reached us even out here. It’s an honor.” He gathered the keys to the gaol cells and bid us to follow, bearing a lamp to guide us into the dark, dank recesses of the building’s cellar.

  We did not find Carrington in very good condition. Even though he had been confined in a cell with stout bars, he’d been fitted with an oak collar as wide around as his shoulders. Not only did it prevent him from being able to slip between the bars, but it made lying down comfortably impossible. While law permitted such treatment of Walkers, it did not demand it, and use of such barbaric methods often marked prejudice.

  Though, as Carrington snarled and charged the bars when we approached, the sheriff’s caution might not have seemed imprudent.

  Lupyne held up a hand. “If you will, Sheriff, give me the keys and then quit this place. You have my word of honor that Best Carrington will not escape.”

  The Man handed my companion the keys and left us the lamp. Lupyne beckoned the other Wolf to the edge of the bars and unfastened the lock on the yoke. “Rest yourself and be sensible, Best Carrington. You’ll soon be free.”

  “They’ll kill me. They want to kill me.” He tossed the yoke aside with a crash and then pointed toward the street. “Men. Sheep, they hate me.”

  “Not all of them, you fool. The earl sent for me.”

  “And who are you?”

  “V. August Lupyne, and this is my friend, Doctor Woolrich.” Lupyne flashed fang. “Tell me what you know.”

  “They hate me.”

  “You’ve established that. You may go to the gallows with that on your lips and dance, or tell me all you know of the murder, and I will save you.”

  “I don’t know much.” The older Wolf, gray in muzzle and ears, arched his back and snarled. “Had a feeling something was wrong with the old woman. I went to her cave and found her dead, her head smashed, her body slashed like someone was fixing to skin her. Then I remember feeling strangled, then nothing else until I woke up to the girl screaming. She hid her face in the folds of her dark cloak and the woodcutter clopped me with an axe handle aside the head.”

  Lupyne waved me forward. “If you will, Doctor, examine his head.”

  “I am a physician, Lupyne, not a phrenologist.”

  “I seek signs of trauma, my friend, not an analysis of character.”

  Carrington submitted to my examination through the bars. I found easy evidence of swelling where he’d been hit with the axe handle. “Good Heavens, Lupyne, there is another bump here and some crusted blood. A blunt item, yes, but more like a rock.”

  Lupyne’s eyes narrowed. “One blow or two, Carrington?”

  “One.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “He stunned me, but I retained my wits.”

  “Good, very good.” My friend scratched at his throat fur. “What was your relationship with the old woman?”

  “We traded some. I’d bring her meat, she’d give me wine. The earl didn’t approve of me drinking, but it was just a wee touch now and again.”

  “Were you drunk the day you found her?”

  Carrington gave Lupyne a glance that had not bars and civil convention separated them, would have precipitated a quick battle. “I might have had a drop or three that morning.”

  “You’re huntsfolk. How long dead was she when you found her?”

  “Fresh. Blood was still warm.”

  “Good, excellent.” Lupyne gave his brother Wolf a nod. “One last thing. How much do the Sheep herders hate you for poaching from their flocks?”

  You’d have thought Lupyne had produced my revolver and shot Carrington right between the eyes.

  “But I never, Best.”

  “Come now. They graze on the Northcutt estate. You warn them off. They fail to listen, you punish them. It happens all the time. They must hate you.”

  “A lamb goes missing, they blame me. Most keep their flocks away. The Oliver Rams, though, they don’t listen.”

  “Thank you.” Lupyne picked up the lamp. “Remain quiet, and we shall get you out of here.”

  We retreated up the stairs, and the sheriff welcomed us back as if we’d been to the Dark Continent and had found the source of the Nile. We apprised him of our intention to visit the cave, and he came with us. The coach brought us as close as it could get, then we trooped through the woods. Once within sight of the cave, Lupyne held a hand up and went forward alone, watching the ground and sniffing as he went. He produced a magnifying glass from his pocket and quickly studied overturned leaves and other things that baffled me, then would wave us forward and signal for us to stop.

  The cave itself was not terribly remarkable. The front had been left as nature had designed, narrowing to a crack, which had once been sealed to form a brick chimney. Much of it still remained, and the witch had used the base for a firepit, but the back wall had long since crumbled. Beyond it stretched a darker part of the cave, and Lupyne straightened up having returned from his examination of it.

  “Storage beyond there. A number of unsavory things.” He looked at the sheriff. “There was more that you removed, yes?”

  The sheriff nodded. “A few things shouldn’t be seen by Man nor Beast, if you’ll take my meaning, Best Lupyne. The whole district knew Granny Smeed was a witch. Weren’t need to have proof of it paraded around the village.”

  Lupyne crouched beside a wooden cot covered in bloody rags beside the fireplace. “You saw the body?”

  The Man crossed himself. “Every time I close my eyes. She was tore up something powerful bad. Cut fit for skinning. Carrington’s knife was there beside the body, covered in blood.”

  “But that wasn’t the only odd thing, was it?” He rose, bearing a lock of long, gray hair. “Her head had been shaved.”

  “Like she was a nun.”

  “No, Sheriff, not like a nun.” Lupyne held the lock up and studied it with his glass. “She was shorn for a most unholy purpose.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean, Lupyne?”

  “That should not concern you, Doctor.” Lupyne lowered his glass. “Instead you might want to consider how it is that the murderer had three arms.”

  We returned from the cave by way of the village, dropping the sheriff off at its outskirts. We arrived by early evening and were informed that there would be guests for dinner. Lupyne and I retired to our rooms to bathe and dress. I did the former with alacrity and the latter more slowly, not wishing to inflict the scent of wet wool upon my companion.

  I thus had much leisure time to ponder what my companion had said. I confess I made little of it. Carrington’s story did not deny him the opportunity of having committed the crime. He might have slain her when she refused him wine. Of course, then the question would have been about what he had done with her hair and why he had taken it, but this matter did not seem to concern Lupyne in the least.

  Of course, Carrington did not possess a third arm, but that fact provided me no insight into the murder. I would have thought a triple-armed murderer would have been easy to spot, but the sheriff had made no more of the question than I. Nor did he seem to have a list of suspects that had three arms. As often happened with Lupyne, what seemed transparent to him was opaque to me no matter how I tried to pierce that veil surrounding it.

  I had made no headway into the mystery when we were called to dinner. The earl sat at the head of the table, with Lupyne to his right. His grandson, a handsome, strapping lad up for the weekend from Oxford, sat oppo
site the host, and I sat at his right hand. The other two visitors faced Lupyne and me respectively. Burton Hill, the woodcutter, and Blanchette, the girl who had discovered the body, had joined us. While neither of them wore the finery our hosts did, the girl had a delightfully crocheted lace shawl around her shoulders, and the grandson, Desmond, clearly found it fascinating. Hill, while more humbly dressed, was clean and sharp witted, while Desmond proved, unfortunately for the earl, to be as dull as his clothes were fashionable.

  Conversation remained slightly stilted. The earl asked Desmond about his studies, and Desmond responded with many stories—few of which actually involved academia. We all laughed politely—Blanchette the most, Hill the least—perhaps because Desmond addressed himself primarily to her. Hill hesitated to offer opinions, wisely thinking better than to show up his superiors.

  At last dinner was over. In deference to me, the salad course had been generous, and no mutton had reached the table. I contented myself with bread and greens and then indulged gluttonously in the bread pudding offered for dessert. The others enjoyed some beef dish tasty enough that Lupyne savored rather than bolted.

  Finally we retired to the library, with everyone aware of the agenda. Desmond stepped up to offer a protest. Standing behind the wing-back chair in which Blanchette had settled, he gave Lupyne a stern stare.

  “I am aware, Best Lupyne, that you wish to ask Blanchette about the murder. I want you to know she is innocent of any involvement. You have my word on that, the word of a Gentleman.”

  “I appreciate that, Mister Benbrook, but were you to give me your word that, at this very moment, the sun was at its zenith, I should doubt you. That said, I wish only to ask her and Mr. Hill a couple of questions, merely to test the veracity of what Carrington told me.”

  Blanchette reached up and patted Desmond’s hand. “I don’t mind answering.”

  Lupyne nodded carefully and then packed his pipe with the dark tobacco the butler offered. “Carrington said you were wearing a dark cloak. Did you bring it with you this evening?”