A Case Most Peculiar

by Michael Moreau

  The boy, Cyril, was exactly that, a boy. The spoiled son of a wealthy man who yearned for more of his parents’ affection and suffered for lack of their discipline. Not a bad child, mind you, but the outbursts that Miss Tripti did a fair job at controlling showed my intuition to be truth. Tripti herself played the part she was cast into well. She dined with the family and engaged them in conversation but maintained a distance that was expected of someone in her peculiar position. As a nanny she was both kin and employee. I had seen many a woman of her profession struggle with the balancing act that was necessary to sustain a healthy rapport with both the household that she served as well as the fellow servants who she was both above, in terms of status, yet at the same time equal too.

  The more I observed the lady of the house, Madame Dunning, the more I sensed that there was little information to be had from an interrogation of the afflicted woman. I saw upon her no signs that would lead me to believe that her dreadful condition was brought upon by any type of purposeful malice, notably long-term poisoning with low doses of substances such as arsenic or mercury. Her once-lovely face showed the weight of many years of suffering and the infrequency with which she spoke said volumes about how little she would be likely to know of any sort of conspiracy, even within her own household. Still, should the chance arise I would of course pose a few questions to her.

  After a succulent dinner of roasted quail and far more entremets than I even have the facilities to remember Mr. Dunning, his son Adrian, and I retired to the library for an after-dinner brandy. In a still-pleasant, but somewhat more firm tone, he reiterated that I was wasting my time and that I should conclude my investigation. He made promises of organizing a fox hunt, or some other aristocratic distraction, that I would enjoy. Upon the revelation that I had never participated in such a hunt he and his son seemed all the more dogged in their determination that they should arrange one but I protested vigorously that not only did I have no interest in hunting fox but that I, in fact, knew not even how to ride a horse. This drew quite an eruption of laughter and Adrian insisted that on the morrow he would summon some of the horses back from where they were being put up and that he would instruct me in the gentlemanly art of horseback riding.

  Both men only stared at me queerly when I protested that though I was far more learned and skilled than a common man I did not either consider myself a gentleman, at least not by their standards. I believed their protestations to be more a reflection upon their own character than of anything else. Surely they could not take dinner with anyone less than a gentleman nor permit him to speak to them as equals. Considering me as so was more for their own comfort than for any respect they held for me.

  When Michael Dunning rose, at half past ten to retire to bed, Adrian insisted that I join him on the rear terrace for a night cap. Once his father had left the room he made promise of something a little stronger than brandy. He implied, quite correctly I might add, that I seemed the type of gentleman to have a taste for more potent intoxicants. He took his leave of me to fetch whatever poison it was he had stashed away as I made my way out of doors. It was some ten minutes later when he opened the door and stepped out onto the terrace and approached the table at which I sat. Onto it he placed two glasses, already filled, and onto the table behind where he planned to sit a bottle of extremely fine scotch the likes of which I had seldom had the good fortune to enjoy. He sat and lifted his glass. I did likewise.

  “To you Inspector. May your little jaunt out to the countryside be nothing more than a relaxing vacation.”

  “Indeed.” I responded with a sinister smile before putting the glass to my lips. At once I reasoned precisely why he had positioned the bottle on the other table and not upon the one at which we currently sat. Perhaps he thought himself clever but the smell of the laudanum in my drink, despite the potent aroma of scotch, was easily detectable. He schemed to get me intoxicated to the point that my wits would leave me. For what purpose though? Surely whatever devious intentions he had he’d not calculated into them my remarkably high tolerance for intoxicants.

  “Thirty year old scotch Mr. Carson. The finest in my father’s collection. Just a little something to tickle your innards.”

  With no further hesitation I knocked back the drink and set the empty glass upon the table at which the boy smiled. “Without a doubt the finest I’ve had occasion to sample. Another please.”

  He seemed surprised but delighted. Grabbing my glass he stood and turned to the table on which the bottle sat. His back was of course to me so that I would not notice him slip more of the medicine into it. He could not have known that he was in fact providing me with the very thing I’d thought impossible to acquire so far out from the city. I smiled wickedly while he was unable to see my expression.

  As he turned back to me and placed the glass down he spoke, “So how long do you believe you’ll be on with us here sir?”

  “Tell me, Mr. Dunning, do you truly believe your sudden shift from abrasive to welcoming to have eluded my attention or to hold any sway upon the facts when I have concluded my investigation?”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re clever and have a talent for deception. Or did you think I took no notice?”

  A half-smile crossed his lips, “Like my father I can have episodes of severe crassness but I ask that you not take it as a complete measure of my temperament.”

  “No Mr. Adrian. You are not like your father. I take both of you to be clever men but your penchant for deception is one of a more manipulative nature than his.”

  “How so?”

  “Your family perhaps takes your swings of mood as nothing more than mild childishness, forgive me for saying, but a more cleverly trained observer deduces more than that.”

  “And what precisely is it that you deduce about me?” he took a drink and then locked his gaze with mine.

  “You sir demonstrate, at least on the surface, the qualities of a sociopath. Of course without a proper evaluation I could be completely mistaken.”

  “You will understand if I find your words terribly insulting and if I may say so you do not come off as the epitome of virtue yourself sir.”

  “I am only rendering my opinion based upon the facts that I have thus-far observed. While I myself do harbor a talent for deception my typical approach is to be quite blunt Mr. Adrian. I prefer to be honest about precisely who and what I am. Unlike yourself.”

  Out on the terrace Adrian Dunning believed himself to be engaged in some plot to either injure or embarrass me, little did he know that I was seizing the opportunity to catch him off his guard and press him for answers.

  “Whatever do you mean Inspector?”

  “Mr. Wright, how did you feel about him?”

  “Why I was upset that he took it upon himself to seduce my sister; a woman with which he had not the social standing to be associated with.”

  “Yet he was perfectly fit to associate with you.” I commented sarcastically as I sipped on my second drink.

  The young man seemed taken aback. A reaction that said more than his words could. “Just precisely what is it that you are implying Mr. Carson?”

  “Why that you were rather close friends with Colin, closer even than those of your own class with whom you purport to be friends.”

  His posture relaxed. “Well yes, Mr. Wright and I did get on quite well until his association with Elizabeth became common knowledge.”

  “And afterwards, from what I have come to understand, you held quite a grievance against him.”

  “Of course, he had no business being romantically involved with Elizabeth!”

  “Despite your disdain for the situation, however, may I assume that you would never take it upon yourself to harm Mr. Wright in any way?”

  “Never. I may have something of a temper but I am not a violent man.”

  “Even should your heart be terribly broken?”

  He pondered my words for a moment before pushing from the table and rising quickly. “I take your in
sinuation to be extremely offensive sir!”

  “What insinuation would that be?”

  “That I am a...” he looked down in shame, “...nancy-boy sir.”

  “Ah, but I was only implying that you were heartbroken over the fact that your sister had taken fancy to a common man.” I then finished my second drink, placed the glass onto the table and rose, “Of course your rather severe protestations only lead me to conclude that your preferences do indeed lie in that direction.”

  He appeared to be terribly shaken.

  “Your sister apparently suspects as such, if her comment at dinner is anything to go on. Do you not believe that others have begun to come to the same conclusion?”

  By the clenching of his fist and the watering of his eyes, barely detectable in the faint moonlight, it was evident he was attempting not to act upon the voice in his head urging him to violence.

  “Where is the body?” I demanded.

  “Leave! Leave now lest I force you to do so!” he yelled in a voice so loud that surely those in the house could have heard.

  “I thought you not to be a violent man Adrian. Show me you are not and show me that you are in fact a trustworthy fellow and tell me where Mr. Wright’s body is buried and all of this shall be forgotten.”

  “I will only say it once more. Go to your room, grab your things and leave. I shall arrange your transport immediately sir. I have tolerated your insults long enough.”

  “Or what, you shall attack me and prove to everyone that you are capable of violence when properly roused?”

  I had apparently pressed him too far. My calculation had been that he would reveal something crucial in the midst of his drunken ire but instead he reached back and threw a strong right directly at my jaw. Despite many drinks and the beginnings of opium intoxication my reactions were still faster than his. Years of dealing with violence had honed my skills and I deftly dodged his attack and rebutted with a quick fist to his sternum. My blow was enough to knock the wind from him. He reached out for his chair and I dashed to help him. I wished not to engage in a full-blown fight with the man. He expressed some surprise and gratitude that I would not continue to assault him despite him having lost his temper and begun the conflict himself.

  “I apologize Inspector. I do not know what came over me.”

  “I spoke too harshly.” I waved off the apology, “It does not excuse your behavior, mind you, but I can certainly see now that I did much to rouse your anger and after a night of drink that is not wise with any man.”

  “Another drink then?” he pleaded. Despite his claims to the opposite I could tell that he did not genuinely feel sorry for his attack upon me but the swift response I had dealt him had diffused any notions he had of doing it again.

  “Certainly, so long as you are willing to speak frankly with me upon the matter that I wish to discuss.”

  “Very well.” he said as he rose slowly to pour another drink. That time I made out the sound of the laudanum bottle’s cork being removed, my blow and his state of intoxication were making him more sloppy in his methods. After he had set my third glass upon the table he once again took his seat.

  “So. Where is it that Mr. Wright’s body is buried? Tell me this fact and it will go a long way to alleviating my suspicion of you.”

  “Alas I cannot say. My father and Mr. Daidley took him to his final resting place.”

  I had expected a lie, yet that is not what I perceived from Adrian Dunning, lest my faculties were being overly dulled by drink I felt certain that what he spoke was the truth.

  “Mr. Daidley is...?”

  “My father’s agent.”

  “I see. What reason do you believe there to be that his body has been placed in a spot that will not be revealed to any who ask?”

  “That I could not tell you.”

  “A lie. You will find that I am difficult to deceive. Best that I have the truth from you.”

  “I have told you the truth, it is not my concern if you fail to believe it to be so.”

  “Then what of the body itself? How was he when you came upon him?”

  “He was in a most unnerving state. He had fallen upon the pitchfork and its points were protruding from his chest. It was the most horrific site that I have ever seen.”

  “Was there anything unusual about the area or the body itself?”

  “Beside the fact that our stable-boy lie dead in such a terrible fashion?” he asked as he rubbed his sore sternum.

  “Yes.”

  “Not that I can recall.”

  I took another sip of whisky. I began to feel quite strongly the warmth of the laudanum washing over my body. “What was the color of the young man’s blood?”

  He seemed startled by the question. “Why…it was the color of blood Inspector.”

  “So it was not of a deep blue tint?”

  “No...why would you pose such a peculiar question?”

  “Because just as before you are lying and I have found evidence of a blue material upon the instrument of death and in the area where Mr. Wright met his end, both of which have the consistency of dried blood. What’s more someone appears to have attempted to wash away all traces of it from the area and the implement, poorly mind you.”

  “I say again that his blood was normal though there was quite a bit of it. If his blood were to have been such an odd shade, however, what bearing would it have on your investigation or on any suspicion of malicious circumstances surrounding his death?”

  “I have not deduced so much as of yet but of course all facts are relevant when dealing with a matter as serious as a potential homicide. Poison, of course, could be a factor capable of changing the color of blood and one I should choose not to overlook. Now, besides yourself and your father, both of whom have clear motive to wish the stable-boy gone, are there any others upon the estate who may have had quarrel with Colin Wright?”

  “I cannot think of any sir.”

  We continued to speak for what my watch indicated was another half of an hour but I learned little else save for what I had already gleaned about the personality of Adrian Dunning. I made clear my desire to go into the city in the morning to visit the library and that he should arrange my transport, no silly horseback riding for me. Shortly before mid-night we parted company and I made my way to the room which had been prepared for me. After making myself comfortable I lied in the bed, infinitely more comfortable than the one I had back home above the bakery, for what was likely an hour before succumbing to both exhaustion and the effects of quite a large intake of laudanum. I slept harder than I ever had in my life, precisely how hard would be apparent the very next morning.

  A Rude Awakening

  “Aahh!” I sat up with a start, surprised both by the splash of water and the scowling face of Mrs. Kyle.

  “Mr. Carson! How could you?” she said in her most chiding tone.

  Confused, I wiped the water from my eyes and looked around. I was in the barn lying upon a bale of hay. What’s worse, I was not alone. The nanny Tripti laid at my side slowly coming to consciousness herself. My waistcoat and shirt were unbuttoned as was the top of her dress and we were both in a most disheveled state. I knew not what to say but by the time I got to my feet I knew precisely who to blame for it.

  I saw through the open barn doors, approaching from the main house some one hundred and fifty yards away, Michael and Adrian Dunning. I set off in a quick march toward them, buttoning my shirt as I went. Thanks to the elder Dunning’s cane I closed the distance between us before they’d managed to get very far.

  “You see Father, just as Kwame said! He’s had his way with the nanny.”

  “Mr. Carson this is inexcusable!” Michael Dunning proclaimed but I marched right past both of them. Elizabeth, Cyril, Kwame and even the lady of the house stood near the side door watching the spectacle. Adrian and Michael caught up to me as I approached the house.

  “Sir I will have to demand that you leave my estate immediately!” the master of the house p
iped up from behind me. I spun to face him.

  “I saw he and Tripti exchanging sultry glances at dinner last night father.” Adrian added. This I could not deny, the nanny had smiled at me on several occasions and I had returned her favorable expression eagerly.

  “My good sir,” I ejaculated, “were I to have a go at Miss Tripti’s notch I can assure you it’d be in the comfort and warmth of her room, not atop a pile of hay in a drafty old barn.”

  Both men were speechless at my crass use of words, likewise I heard a gasp emanate from one of the ladies behind me.

  “Now see here, watch your tongue in the presence of the women.” Mr. Dunning demanded.

  “No sir I shall not. Not after being drugged with laudanum by your son and framed for an affair with the lovely Miss Tripti. A woman that, should I desire, I could likely have but chose not to since she does not deserve to be sullied be a man such as me.”

  “How dare you accuse my son of such an offense?” the lady of the house spoke up.

  I turned to face her just as Mrs. Kyle came running up behind the two men I’d been engaged with. “I can understand that a mother may not wish to see her child in such a light, yet still it is truth.”

  “Where would he even procure laudanum?”

  “From your husband’s private repository.” I was in no mood to dawdle any longer, if the Dunnings were at each other’s throats then perhaps my task would be made all the more easy. “Or did you not know of your husband’s long-term addiction to opiates? Check the left-hand inside pocket of his coat this very minute if you do not believe me.”

  “You sir are a despicable liar and...”

  I silenced the eldest son with a wave of my hand and interjected, “I suggest you choose a more defenseless target the next time you engage in a futile attempt at framing someone for inordinateness. Did you truly think me a fool? Quite the contrary sir, in a battle of wits you will find me a heavily armed opponent. Now be quiet before I do something ill-mannered like reveal to your entire family that you are unmarried because you are in fact a homosexual.”