Lucy gulped, flushing slightly. She felt uncomfortable going into that part of the inn with the constable. She pointed to the door leading to the kitchen. “Maybe she is in there,” she said. “I could go and see.”
Duncan looked at her curiously, and she wondered if he knew what she had been thinking. “All right,” he said simply. “Let us meet back here in a quarter hour’s time.”
24
Lucy slipped into the kitchen when the bartender wasn’t looking. The kitchen was large, so she was able to peek inside without anyone noticing her at first. It helped that the room was a little smoky, as though someone had burnt something recently, and a few women were talking loudly to each other.
Blinking, she noticed a young girl peeling potatoes, away from everyone else, near the entrance. With a quick look around, Lucy crouched down beside the child. “Tell me,” Lucy said, in as friendly a way as possible. “Is Gwen about?”
Without saying anything, the girl pointed with her knife to a cheery-looking woman with red hair who was just taking off her apron. “Got to go use the privy,” she called out to no one in particular. “Be back quick.”
Lucy followed the redheaded woman out a small door that led to the back of the inn. She could see a little shed out back; the privy stool was likely there. She waited while the woman took care of her necessity.
When she stepped out, Lucy called to her softly. “Gwen?” she asked. “Are you Gwen?”
“That is the name given to me by my mother,” the servant replied. Though she still looked friendly, her face had grown a bit wary. “But I do ask how you have come by my name, as you are a stranger to me.”
“Your father, Abe, told me,” Lucy said softly. “I had a question that he thought you might be able to answer.” She held her breath, feeling the lie burn a bit in her mouth.
This appeared to be the right thing to say, for the woman smoothed down her apron and smiled, her eyes bright. “What is it? I have only a few minutes to spare.”
Seeing the woman’s lack of guile, Lucy abandoned her earlier pretense and told a story nearer to the truth. “I am concerned about one of my friends,” she said. “I am hoping that you might know something that can help her.”
Quickly, without providing names, Lucy explained how she was searching for a man who had been traveling with her friend, and who might have stayed at the Cattle Bell. “The woman,” she explained, “was said to be accursed, because she is thrown into frequent fits, and she may even have experienced such a frenzy in this very inn.” She watched Gwen closely. “Her brother has now disappeared, and we are quite concerned about his whereabouts. Do you know anything of them? Or what might have happened to them the eve they visited?”
The woman’s eyes grew wide. “I know of whom you speak. I thought it was a terrible shame that everyone spoke of that poor woman that way. I had seen her and her brother when they first arrived at the inn.” She hesitated.
“What is it?” Lucy asked.
“My pa don’t like when my tongue runs loose about the guests. Thinks gossip is bad for the place.”
“Did you see something, then? Besides what you already said.” Lucy smiled encouragingly. “Please, it’s important.”
“Yes, well, your friends, they were shouting something at each other. When they walked outside, to their rooms.”
“Oh? They were arguing?” Lucy asked, trying to sound nonchalant. “Did you by chance hear why?” When the woman hesitated, she added, “No, I promise, I will not let on that you told me. What were they were arguing about?”
“I cannot say for sure, but she seemed to be blaming him for something. He kept saying, ‘It was not my fault!’”
“‘It was not my fault’?” Lucy repeated. “Did you hear anything more?”
Gwen shook her head.
“Did you see anyone with them? Another man, by chance?”
“The man who had accursed her? No, he had already left in a haste, after the woman’s brother shouted at him to go away.”
When another servant poked her head out of the kitchen door, Gwen said, “I need to go back in, to attend to my duties. I hope they are all right.” She clucked her teeth. “Imagine, paid for two rooms, and slept in neither!”
“Neither bed was slept in?” Lucy’s heart sank. That did not bode well. “Did they leave, then?”
“I suppose they must have.” Gwen looked about. “Maybe they saw a rat. Sometimes that scares the guests off. Don’t repeat that, mind you. Pa wouldn’t like it if I told you that.” She turned to go.
“Wait,” Lucy cried. “What of their belongings? Their satchels? What happened to them?”
“’Twas an odd thing, to be sure. Your friend, she had nothing of her own, which quite surprised me because she had such a grand way about her. And they had come on foot, not by carriage. She seemed quite timid, skittish, you know. Like a rabbit. But she spoke like a lady. I knew she was noble-born. He said that they would only be there one night, and that they had gotten separated from their valises. Quite odd.”
A voice called out to her again. “Gwen, haven’t got all day!”
“I must go. Best of luck finding your friends,” she said, going back inside.
Duncan appeared then. “I should have known you would locate Gwen more quickly than I. What did you learn?”
Quickly Lucy filled him in on what the servant had told him.
“So the Belasysses did not stay the night, it would seem.” He stroked his chin.
Lucy nodded. “And they were having quite a row, at least as Gwen tells us.”
They began to walk around the little courtyard behind the inn.
Suddenly, there was a rustle from the bushes. “Who is there?” Duncan called. “Show yourself!”
A skinny boy, maybe ten years old, stepped out of a bush. He looked quite dirty and was clearly trying to mask a bit of fear with bravado. Lucy could see him push out his chest. He had a makeshift crutch under one arm, and his right foot and hand were wrapped in dirty bandages.
He sidled up to them. “You come to see the body?” he asked, speaking through the side of his lips.
“Body?” Duncan asked sharply. “What kind of body? Where?”
“Man’s body,” the boy replied. Holding out his good arm he said, “Sixpence and I’ll show you.”
Duncan frowned. “Three.”
The boy shrugged. After Duncan dropped the coins into his hand, the boy pocketed them but did not move. Instead, he looked expectantly at the constable.
Duncan stifled a sigh. “All right, you little scamp. Another penny after you show us. No tricks, now,” he warned.
They walked along into the wooded expanse that lay north of the courtyard. Lucy found herself moving closer to the constable, but she did not take his arm as she had done earlier.
“There.” The boy pointed into the trees. “That is where you will find the poor stiff.”
“Stay here,” the constable said grimly. “Both of you.”
Lucy did not wish to argue. Indeed, although she had seen many dead bodies, she was not sure she wished to see this particular one.
Instead, she knelt down next to the boy. “How long has the body been there?”
“Cannot say for sure. Found it last week. I found him when everyone else was at Sunday service, and the inn was closed. My twin sister, she works in the inn. I used to before a barrel broke my foot and hand and they said they could not keep me on.” He pointed at the back door of the inn. “Sometimes they leave the door open for me, so I can get a small bite to eat. But I am not to stay inside. I usually sleep at the church, but that morning I had to go at dawn because the minister was getting the church ready for Sunday services. I came back here, to finish out my sleep,” he explained. “No one pays me any mind when I am here.”
“You are certain that it was not before that morning that you had seen him?”
“As certain as I know that a fox will catch a rabbit. As certain as I am that I came from my mother’s belly. As ce
rtain as I am that—”
Lucy held up her hand. “Yes, I see. You are quite certain. Why did you not tell anyone?” She could not help but wrinkle her nose. “How is it that no one noticed him but you?”
The boy grinned. “The privy,” he said. “That smell is enough to kill a man, I do not jest. No one will walk back this way. That is why I always found it so easy to hide.” He rubbed his hands together. “That is when I thought I could make a few coins off him, you see. Him being dead, there is nothing more he can do for anybody. But he can do a bit for me, I thought. I showed my sister, and she just screamed and screamed.” He looked a bit indignant. “Silly git. But I have been bringing my mates by. They pay me a penny each. Only them that I can trust. Told ’em not to tell anyone. It is my livelihood now,” he said, looking eager. “You will not tell anyone, will you?”
Lucy ignored his question, for the constable had emerged from the underbrush. Even in the growing darkness, Lucy could see he looked quite disturbed.
“He is not going to take him away, is he?” the boy asked.
“I rather think he will,” Lucy said. “You can understand that, can you not? He needs to be buried properly, in a churchyard. With prayers to hurry his soul on to heaven. A proper funeral. Can you see?”
The boy shook his head. “I never been to a proper funeral,” he said. “Most times, when people around here die, they just get carted off to the common field. Or Houndsditch. I know that is what happened when my ma and pa died.”
Lucy felt a pang of sadness for the boy, but she was watching Duncan’s face. “Who is it?” she asked. “Is it—?”
For a moment the question hung in the air. Duncan nodded. “I am rather afraid that it is Henry Belasysse, given the descriptions we received from his sister and wife.”
“How did he die?” Lucy asked, dreading the answer.
“Stabbed. Nay, do not look, Lucy,” he said, seeing her move toward the copse of trees where the body lay. “His corpse has been stripped to his undergarments. Judging from those, and the lack of muscle in his body, he was a gentleman, to be sure, not a tradesman or laborer. I will have to send for Hank.”
Lucy shivered. Another stabbing. Was it possible that he had been stabbed by the same person who killed the other man? She could not help but think of Octavia Belasysse, and the cuts on her hands.
The afternoon sun was rapidly fading. Duncan returned with the barkeep, who had lost his earlier jovialty. His face was grim. “To think that boy was taking coins to show people that man’s corpse,” Lucy heard him say as he passed.
A moment later she heard the barman retch. “That was him. The brother of that poor woman. God rest their souls.” He was so definitive in his claim that the constable did not press him further.
Together, they watched the constable shine his glass lantern around. As he did so, Lucy caught the glint of something shining on a bit of muddy ground.
Without saying anything, Lucy picked the small object up from the ground, brushing off the dirt as she turned it this way and that. It was an elegant hand-held mirror, with an embroidered handle—a scene of birds and flowers. The glass was broken. She shivered again, thinking of what she knew about the curses that came with such mirrors. When she held it closer to her face, she caught the faintest scent of lavender.
She slipped it into her peddler’s pack and headed back inside the inn. When she sat down, Abe came over and slipped a cup of hot mead into her hands. He sat down across from her, with his own cup.
“To think that poor man was lying out there this whole time,” he said, shaking his head. He looked at Lucy. “I wonder what happened to the woman. His sister. I wonder if she is dead, too.”
“No,” she said, touching his arm. He seemed genuinely distressed by the idea that Miss Belasysse had come to harm. “She is safe.”
The barkeep looked relieved. “That is a blessing at least.”
She could tell he was about to ask more questions, but she was saved from further explanation when Mr. Sheridan and Dr. Larimer walked into the inn, looking perturbed. “Lucy,” Dr. Larimer said, seeing her. “Will you take us to where the body was found?”
“This way,” she said, leading them outside.
Other servants from the inn were starting to mill about, curious about the body. Clearly, the boy had been selective in whom he had told about it, probably knowing he would lose the chance at a few extra coins should it be discovered.
“Just over there.” She pointed, and Mr. Sheridan disappeared into the trees.
Gwen came out with an old blanket, which she handed to Dr. Larimer. “I thought the body should be covered,” she said.
Dr. Larimer took the blanket from her. “Thank you. That is kind of you,” he said, before joining his assistant.
They all waited then. Lucy could hear the physicians conferring together.
Mr. Sheridan came back out. “It is most definitely Henry Belasysse,” he said to Duncan, looking a bit sick. “Of that I am certain.”
Dr. Larimer added, “He has been dead for at least a week, which would fit with the barman’s account that he had last been seen two Saturdays past.” He shook his head. “We must inform his family.”
Duncan nodded to Hank and another bellman who had accompanied the physicians to the inn. “Carry the body back to Dr. Larimer’s residence so that he can examine it more fully,” he said. “For God’s sake, make sure his sister does not see him when you bring him in. We have no need for her to see him in this sorry state.”
Duncan moved over to Lucy as they watched the bellman wrap the body in the sheet. “So, what do we suppose happened here?”
“Well, we know that Henry and Octavia Belasysse were inside the inn, until the other man came in and ‘cursed’ her,” Lucy said slowly, trying to piece the events together in her mind. “When her fit began, Henry Belasysse shouted at the man to leave, and he did. Although perhaps he did not go very far.”
“Right,” Duncan replied. “The bartender said that the Belasysses left soon after, to retire to their rooms, he thought.”
“Only Gwen said their beds had not been slept in.”
Duncan began to walk about, a puzzled look on his face. “So they came out here, on their way to their rooms. Perhaps the other man surprised them then, and assaulted them. Did he then kill Henry Belasysse?” Duncan began to tap his hand against his leg. “And what of Miss Belasysse? Why did she have blood all over her dress?”
“Perhaps she tried to attend to her brother, and it is his blood on her clothes,” Lucy reasoned. “If that man killed Henry, maybe that is when she fled through the ruins. When I saw her the next day, she said the devil had been chasing her. Perhaps that was he.”
“But where was Miss Belasysse for the rest of the night?” Duncan asked.
“She was probably hiding from that man.”
“Then how did she get those cuts on her hands?” He shook his head. “We must face facts. Once again we are brought back to Miss Belasysse—she is the link between these two men. She was overheard arguing with her brother shortly before he was killed, and in altercation with another man before he turned up dead as well. None of it bodes well for her innocence.”
“Well, there were many people who were in the presence of both men before they were murdered,” Lucy said. “Abe, Gwen, and everyone else in the Cattle Bell at the time! Maybe one of them murdered the two men.”
Her protest was lame, and they both knew it. Given the injuries to Miss Belasysse’s hands and the blood on her gown, she was clearly involved in at least one of the men’s deaths, if not both.
Lucy sighed, looking at the growing shadows cast by the inn as the sun sank lower in the sky. What had happened here? How had Henry Belasysse ended up murdered?
25
Since it was growing dark, Lucy did not wish to cross back through the ruins alone, but instead kept pace with Hank and Duncan. The physicians rode in the cart with the body of Henry Belasysse. Thankfully, they had thought to bring lanterns to
light their grim procession as they wound their way through the darkening streets.
When they arrived at Dr. Larimer’s home, Molly took a frightened look at the shrouded body but gave them some welcome news. Miss Belasysse had been slumbering for the last few hours after having downed an ample dose of her sleeping draught. At least we can hold off telling her about her brother’s murder, Lucy thought. This was followed by a second, more chilling thought. Unless she was the one who killed him. Lucy shivered.
“This will give you some time to see if the knife wounds match those made on the body of the other man,” Constable Duncan said in a low voice to Dr. Larimer. He then dispatched Hank to bring the Belasysses to the physician’s home. “Tell them we have news, but do not let on about his death. I have more questions for that family.”
He turned to Lucy. “We need to make certain that Miss Belasysse does not go anywhere in the meantime.”
After Hank left, and Duncan and the physicians went into the room with the corpse, Lucy went upstairs to be on hand when Miss Belasysse awoke. The woman was sleeping, her breathing light and steady. In the candlelight, she looked peaceful, with no sign of the frenzied terror that gripped her so often in her waking state. Pitiful creature, the bartender had called her, and Lucy agreed. Without thinking, she smoothed a strand of hair away from the woman’s forehead.
Lucy sat down at the table and pulled the broken mirror out of her pocket. Without thinking, she began to play with it, flickering this way and that, seeing how the gleaming light moved around the room. The devil loves a looking-glass, she could almost hear her mother intone, and she set it down.
She looked at the great mirror in the room, which was still covered with cloth, as one would do in a house of mourning.
Why had Miss Belasysse covered the mirror, she wondered. She thought of a game that she and the other servants used to play on All Hallows’ Eve. The night the spirits walked, if a woman made a wish and lit a candle before a mirror, and then blew it out, the image of her future lover would appear in the glass for an instant. She remembered trying this, giggling with her friend Bessie, feeling a pang that Bessie had never had the chance to have a husband. She could not help but wonder what would happen if she blew out the candle now. Whose face would she see in the mirror?
A Death Along the River Fleet Page 24
