“Meaning?” she was not going to satiate me with such an ambiguous answer.
“It would seem that when necessary he is capable of being a rather ruthless and shrewd businessman, in order to protect his family’s fortune, of course.”
“Of course.”
“It does seem, however, that he attempts to avoid such situations. Several arguments have been overheard which would seem to indicate that he was rather upset about having little choice other than to be so brutal.”
“And would you say that parallels your experience with the man’s disposition in general?”
“Yes. Like all men he has occasion to let his temper become aroused but being of a more agreeable humor seems to be his preferred state.”
“His humor appeared anything but agreeable when I chanced to meet him along the footpath earlier.”
“Ah yes,” she began, “but his disagreeable temperament only solidifies my testimony to his disposition.”
“How, my good lady, do you surmise that?”
“As I have stated he is not without the ability to become angry or upset but that he usually reserves such bouts of bellicosity for the circumstances when he is left little other choice.”
“So you believe him to be a calm and centered man and that my prodding agitated him. I infer that this is what you believe.”
“Yes.”
“So despite being such a collected individual the one thing capable of rousing his temper is the very thought of becoming agitated itself?”
“Yes. My master relishes his peace. From what I have come to know of him his anger only shows itself when others wish to disturb his own tranquil nature.”
We spoke for a few moments more on Michael Dunning. I gleaned little else that seemed to be useful but I desired to be certain that I knew precisely who I was dealing with. There was every chance that, were the incident indeed foul play, he had no foreknowledge of it but being the master of the estate I had little doubt that he would have learned about it after the fact. I found it very likely that whatever the outcome of my investigation it ultimately hinged on my ability to get Michael Dunning to speak.
“Give me your opinions, briefly, on the other servants. Mostly, should I take their testimonies for fact?”
“Well...” she began, “the boy, Kwame, is just that, a boy. I have myself caught him in falsehoods but generally he is a good lad. Never have I known him to tell a lie regarding any subject of real importance.”
“Continue.”
“Mrs. Kyle. Well, as you’ve no-doubt noticed she can be rather unpleasant at times, especially to the help and especially of late. She also has quite the penchant for gossip and rumor yet I’ve not known her to be a liar. There is also Mr. Findlay, the grounds-keeper. He seldom comes into the house, preferring the solitude of his tool shed, and he has quite the reputation as a brawler.”
“As I have heard.”
“In many years together here at Larchwood I have spoken to him only in passing. I could not vouch for his character Inspector, I apologize.”
“Think nothing of it. You are not the first person that I have heard refer to Mr. Findlay as violent. Are you aware of his relationship with Mr. Wright? Did they get on?”
She nodded. “I believe so sir...though I could not swear to it. Most of their interactions that I chanced to witness were from a distance, through the window of the study I would see them conversing out on the grounds. Obviously I could not hear what they were speaking of but their relaxed postures always indicated to me a friendly conversation. Colin, though somewhat reserved, was liked by everyone here Inspector.”
“Not so much with the family I would dare venture.”
“No, you have it wrong sir. Before their relationship became open knowledge he and Master Adrian were on very friendly terms...as friendly as I’d ever seen Adrian with anyone in fact. Of course when other wealthy young men visited he would turn his back on poor Colin but he always seemed quick to apologize.”
“And after he came to learn of his sister’s relationship with Mr. Wright?”
“He was angry, that much was clear. At first he spoke to Colin quite harshly but after some time he seemed to forget himself on occasion and have a cordial interaction with him. He cared very much for Mr. Wright I believe. He simply did not wish for him to court his sister.”
“Does Adrian Dunning not have close friends, those of higher social standing?”
A queer expression briefly crossed the lovely lady’s face. “Though he has quite a number of acquaintances who visit the estate regularly to hunt or to share with him some brandy I do not think them to be friends, at least not any of very close confidence.”
“Interesting. Do you believe it to be the lad’s thorny disposition that prevents him from establishing meaningful friendships?”
“No Inspector. With those who come calling he is remarkably amiable.”
“Then have you any explanation why he has little in the way of companions of his own standing yet so thoroughly bonded with a stable-boy?”
She shook her head. “I regret that I cannot say sir. Of all of the children he is the one that I had the least hand in rearing but still I feel that I know him quite well. He is in no way aloof like his father, he is very comfortable in social settings.”
“Yet he is unmarried.” I remarked. “Rather peculiar for a reasonably handsome young man with money would you not agree?”
Tripti only nodded in agreement. She paused, as if to say something, but did not. It was at that moment that a most interesting thought crossed into my mind.
“Tell me, and pray be totally honest, in all of your years here has Adrian Dunning ever attempted to seduce you?”
She was taken aback. “Why of course not Mr. Carson!”
“Flirtatious glances then? Even compliments that seemed to be directed in a romantic or flirtatious context?”
“Certainly not, nor would I have tolerated it.”
“Forgive me. You are a handsome woman and near to his own age. I meant no disrespect nor did I wish to imply anything unbecoming. I simply desired to glean whether or not you had taken notice of Mr. Adrian having any kind of attraction toward you.”
She resumed her stolid demeanor and spoke matter-of-factly. “Not even once have I caught a lustful glance from him. He has always been a perfect gentleman toward me.”
“What of others? Surely he has courted young ladies before. Why has he not married any of them?”
“Inspector, truly, what can any of this have to do with your investigation?”
“I ask only that you exercise some patience with me Miss. You have my assurance that there is a point to it all.”
“Well...when he was quite young, eighteen or perhaps nineteen, he was briefly engaged to a young lady from York. She was the heiress to a large fortune, the type of which type I now forget.”
“And what came of it?”
“As I understand the facts he came to learn that his young lady had been romantically involved her family’s retained solicitor, a gentleman easily twice her years. Mr. Adrian broke off the engagement at once and never spoke to her again.”
“He has not been engaged again?”
“Yes. There was a beautiful young Swedish lady whose father Master Dunning had met on a business trip to the continent. She and her father came five times to the estate. On the third occasion Mr. Adrian proposed marriage but on the fifth they had a falling out and the wedding was called off.”
“What was the reason given?”
“I was aware of none save that they had experienced a falling out.”
“Had he seemed taken with her on previous visits or do you believe it to have simply been an arrangement between Mr. Dunning and his Swedish counterpart?”
“Adrian had a talent for making the young lady laugh and she appeared to fancy him quite a bit but I am not sure if he truly reciprocated those feelings. I saw him hold her hand when they would go for walks together but I witnessed little else in the way
of affection, specifically in the direction of him to her.”
“Do you believe that perhaps he is simply waiting to inherit the estate and live out his days as a wealthy bachelor and patriarch of the Dunning clan?”
“I do not know Mr. Carson. He does express interest in the running of the estate and seems to care more for business than he does for romance.”
“Surely a young man...has certain...needs. Would you not agree?”
A bit of shame flashed across her face but she quickly recovered and it was replaced by a wry smile. “I’m sure I have no idea to what you are referring Inspector.”
Nonsense. She knew precisely to what I was referring, her grin made it quite apparent.
“The inquiry that I wish to posit has little chance of being taken as anything but offensive so I will merely pose it. Does he visit any ladies in town, perhaps those of a certain ancient but quite frowned upon profession?”
“Mr. Carson, in dealing with wealthy employers I have taken on quite a bit of their modesty but you will understand that in my home country such prudishness is not as ubiquitous. I take it that you are referring to prostitutes. No, to my knowledge Master Adrian does not frequent their establishments nor do I have any information which would lead me to believe that he keeps a mistress. Despite the general consensus, sir, not all men have such wanton desires just as it is true that not all women do not.”
Despite my commitment to remain completely professional I could not keep my mind from shortly pondering that particular lady’s wanton desires. Surely she had needs of her own that seemed little met at the estate. Her playful nature spurred me on, I decided to ask.
“What of you Miss Tripti? Have you no young man?”
“No sir.” she smiled, then continued, “I did have a somewhat protracted courtship with a young telegraph operator from Leeds but we are no longer seeing one another. Does that answer your question or would you care to dig further into my private affairs.”
“Not at all Miss. Now, I have but a few more questions and then you may be on your way.”
The remainder of my inquiry took likely less than five minutes. At such a manor, where it was a trifle to locate a witness for further questioning, I had little reason to exhaust any particular person with hours of interrogation. The nanny’s testimony had mostly acted as confirmation of the many things that I had previously learned from others.
There was one matter, however, that I found most interesting. While I had in the past witnessed other inspectors, especially those belonging to the police force, shy away from certain conjectures simply because it offended their own sense of morality, I did not. The possibility that Mr. Adrian Dunning remained unmarried because he fancied men rather than women was remote yet could not be ignored. Had his interest in Colin Wright been more than mere friendship a whole new perspective on events could be seen by the attentive observer. Was his anger at the stable-boy that of an overly protective brother or the indignation of a scorned lover?
The Stables
There remains little doubt in my mind that the servant boy Kwame was rather surprised when I came to him in a rush and pulled him from his duties stacking firewood. Taking him by the hand I led him quickly to the stables. I wanted to give him no chance to prepare mentally for the barrage of questions that I would have for him once we had reached the scene of Mr. Wright’s untimely death. The rain had subsided but the day remained every bit as grey as it had been since the start, the bitter wind still biting into us as we walked hurriedly.
The boy protested in as polite a manner as he could muster but I paid him no heed. We burst into the stable after crossing the distance between it and the house and I shoved him inside. I left the door open so as to illuminate the space as well as could be expected with the meager amount of sunlight coming through the clouds of the afternoon sky and motioned for young Kwame to throw open the shutters on the opposite wall. He did so without hesitation.
He was dressed very poorly, only trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, for the current weather but I attributed that to his being a boy and to little else. Before entering my twenties I remember having quite the tolerance for the cold as well, typically becoming overheated rather easily when wearing heavier clothing.
“Good boy.” I waved him closer, “Now come here.” he did as he was instructed, though it was quite evident that my tactic of pulling him hurriedly to the site had worked and his nerves were frayed. “Remain where you are now, so as not to trample the floor any further than it has already been.”
He shook his head in agreement, “Yes sir.”
“Now...show me, rather point out to me, precisely where Mr. Wright’s body was on the morning that you found him deceased.”
He pointed to the 4 inch by 4 inch timber that I was standing next to. To my left the door, to my right the windows, in front of me the stable stalls. They were closed but with no horses in them. Behind me was the open area, floor covered in a loose mat of straw, where the horses were taken to be groomed and shoed.
“So on the morning that you entered the stable to summon him to breakfast you found the young Mr. Wright, Colin, upon a pitchfork that was resting against this very beam?”
“Yessir.” he shook his head nervously.
I spun on my heels to inspect it. No blood was upon it but despite being marred by years of accidental bumps and knocks there was a distinct impression in the wood of about the right shape and at about the right height to match that of the head of a pitchfork having been pressed into it with some weight and for several hours’ time at least. I indicated the mark upon the wood and the boy merely nodded. I examined the wood closely and even after having pulled my glass from my coat pocket could not discern the stains of any bodily fluids upon it.
My attention turned next to the floor. It was dirt and all of it, save for a circle roughly two feet across and centered on the wooden beam against which the pitchfork had rested lay covered in straw of varying degrees of density. My eyes could clearly see that the entire vicinity had been heavily disturbed. That I had expected. Likewise, now that I knew that it was the site of Mr. Wright’s death I could clearly make out marks in the soil indicating the heels of his boots. His body had been dragged out through the door the boy and I had just moments before entered through. Still...why had the straw been cleared in such a neat circle around the spot on which the stable-boy had met his end? Cleaning of the blood which had pooled at the bottom of the post, I assumed. Regardless of the deed’s aim it seemed something that would be tasked with the lowest ranking member of the household. I looked up at the Gambian boy accusingly.
“You were the one who cleared the straw in this area. Why?”
“I did not sir.” he protested.
“You will find that I am quite a difficult target for deception boy. The ground has obviously been cleared. What is more, it was obviously done by someone with either delicate or small fingers from the looks of the impressions in the dirt from where individual pieces of straw were lifted.” I had deduced nothing of the such from the patch of Earth but the boy need not know that.
Kwame went to step forward but I put up a hand to halt him, reminding him that I wished him not to move, lest we disturb the scene even further. His eyes darted back and forth, refusing to lock with mine. I had him cornered and with no master present to look to for guidance any deception he had been attempting would quickly crumble under my unwavering scrutiny. I asked my question once more but again he refused to answer. I decided to let the matter rest for a moment while I inspected the rest of the surroundings. Those who had come to remove the body had been quite careless and either by accident or by design had made sure that the entire vicinity had been disturbed so profoundly so as to leave little clue of what had truly transpired.
Just outside of the cleared circle of straw there appeared to be two smaller patches of bare ground with a bit of straw tossed about just outside of them. They were indented into the soil which seemed to have been tilled up by the vigorous motion of
something. Colin’s feet, I presumed, as he had kicked and struggled for life briefly before ceasing his pained convulsions. I inspected the nearby work table, still covered in tools, for any other clues and found little save for two dark specks nearest the edge closest to the post. Upon closer examination my curiosity was roused when I discovered a third on the table’s leg that looked to be smudged, as if someone had attempted to wipe it clean but had been less than diligent. It’s appearance reminded me of some of the slapdash efforts I had seen before when investigating other crimes, incidents that had involved the attempted removal of blood stains.
Using a fingernail I scraped at one of the tiny spots on the surface of the table. It was so small that I doubted whoever had attempted to remove the rest of it had even took notice of such a slight speck. They, however, were not looking for it as keenly as I was. Of course the possibility also existed that they had made their attempt at night when the stable was not so well lit. Lifting my nail closer to my face I peered at the speck through my glass. My cynical mind expected, of course, a deep crimson but I was greeted instead with a spot of dark blue. Not blood after all; perhaps paint that Mr. Wright had been working with though I saw nothing inside of the stable painted in the same color.
Kwame caught a glimpse of my frustration but quickly looked away, still avoiding eye contact with me. This time, however, it was his eyes themselves that betrayed him. As he turned his gaze away from me I saw his dark brown eyes engage with something in the corner nearest the door. His face displayed a twinge so slight that most would not have caught it. I found, though, that more often than not people would lead me to the evidence I sought so I made habit of studying them closely. When his eyes darted away from the corner that had provoked the reaction I knew that he had seen something he had likely missed before. Something that, if he had been the one tasked to rid the area of evidence, he should have noticed and removed long before I had arrived.
A Case Most Peculiar Page 10
