A Case Most Peculiar

by Michael Moreau

  The old man let out an audible gasp and fell forward. I rushed to help and was able, if only just, to catch him in time to prevent him from hitting his head on the floor. I guided him into his chair and he grasped onto my hands with his, they were shaking terribly. “Tell me it’s not so! Tell me it’s not so, please!”

  I said nothing but freed myself from his grasp and went for the brandy. I poured him a glass and pressed it to his lips. He drank heavily from it until the glass was dry. Kneeling beside him I held one of his hands in mine.

  “I understand that you wish the best for you daughter, you wish to see her married off to a wealthy man who can provide the type of lifestyle that she is accustomed to but...”

  “That’s not it!” Michael Dunning snapped and then began to sob. “That’s not why this is a terror from which there is no return for both her or our family.”

  “Then what is it? What happened?” I demanded.

  He looked up at me and through watery eyes began to speak, “You were right to suspect conspiracy but not of the type that you may have initially thought. My son Adrian and I did indeed plot against the stable-boy but it was not to see him murdered. We engaged the services of a man from London to kidnap Colin and take him to one of the far corners of Ireland, whereupon he would be provided with a good job and some money to begin a new life. Our agent was instructed not to harm him but to make threats against his life if he ever thought of returning. Of course even then the intention was never to carry through with such an intimidation.”

  I thought for a moment, “The man was late wasn’t he?”

  “Yes! How did you know?”

  “The servants spoke of a man who arrived the evening after Mr. Wright was found deceased. They stated that he remained for only a few moments and then rode off in quite a dash. That was your hired man was it not?”

  “Yes...” the old man’s speech was breaking up, “he...was held up and did not arrive at the scheduled time.”

  “Then let me surmise what truly happened to Colin Wright. The night of February 16th, around nine in the evening, you dispatched the Gambian boy Kwame to the stable to ensure that Mr. Wright had been snatched away and that the deed was complete. Upon entering he startled the stable-boy, causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards onto a pitchfork which had been laid improperly earlier in the day by the grounds-keeper Mr. Findlay, forks-up against a post.”

  “The sight of the man dying in such a horrific fashion caused the boy to drop his lantern, igniting a small patch of hay. As he fought to extinguish it, lest the entire stable go up in flames, the young Mr. Wright thrashed wildly at the boy begging for help but possibly from fear of reprisal for his involvement young Kwame instead chose to ignore his pleas and fled the building after snuffing the flames. He then reported back to either you or Adrian, whereupon he was instructed to wait until morning and to profess that he had found the body after Colin had been late to breakfast. That still leaves me with a massive mystery, however; why on Earth was the young man’s body hastened away from the site and buried at Eight Hill with all evidence of his death shortly thereafter both hurriedly and haphazardly purged?”

  Between his sobs Michael Dunning, master of his domain turned weeping heap of a man, managed to speak. “You are wrong about Eight Hill Inspector. We went to bury him there but found it to be already occupied.”

  “Already occupied?”

  He grimaced for a moment before speaking again. “There is an old elm, southwest of the house and about one hundred yards into the tree line. At the bottom of it you will find what you are looking for Inspector. Go there...and you will see for yourself my reasons. Then leave my house and never return.”

  “Thank you sir.” was all that I could manage.

  “Piss off! I never wish to lay eyes on you again!”

  A Semblance Of Resolution

  My rap upon the lady’s door went unanswered for a moment, Miss Elizabeth no-doubt tidying herself, before she bid me enter. I turned the brass knob and opened the door slowly, peaking inside to ensure that she was decent. Her room was quite elegant and still adorned in the fashion of the by-gone Era of Queen Victoria. The young lady obviously had taste, or at least the person who had decorated her chamber did. The space was mostly dark save for what faint light emanated from an electric lamp that sat on her vanity as well a bit of remaining daylight coming in through the eastern window. There was a lot of dust in the air, as if she’d quickly straightened up either herself or her bed and had, in the process, kicked up quite a bit.

  “My brother is most upset Inspector.” she said with a wry smile that explained to me fully how much that fact delighted her.

  “You will forgive me if I feel little remorse for I have more often been the victim of his solecism than he of mine.”

  “My brother is a retch, I shed not a tear for his feelings. You said that you would have an answer for me yet it has been some four hours since you met with my father. I implore you sir, tell me what you have learned so that my heart may finally be at rest.”

  I strode further into the room and took up a position nearest the window that looked out over the east garden. The day had turned dark and the sky was even greyer than when I had first arrived at Larchwood The rain had let up but still there hung a mist in the air, some of which was pouring through the window, and which I had only moments before mistaken for dust.

  Reluctant, was I, to share what I had learned with the young lady for fear not only of the impact it may have upon her but also of the likelihood that she would not believe my words even if I spoke them. I hesitated. Few people in the world had ever had chance to see my behavior become so sheepish and it felt alien to me. I found it difficult to fix my gaze to hers.

  “I have found, after much inquiry and examination, that Mr. Colin Wright’s death was the result of a most tragic accident.”

  There was a visible weight lifted from the young lady but as I had expected she was not satisfied with such a simple answer. “By the look upon your face Inspector there is more that your investigation revealed, more that you are reluctant to speak of.”

  “Indeed Miss Dunning, for this has been a case most peculiar. Details…have presented themselves the likes of which, even in my great deal of experience, were quite surprising to say the least.”

  “Such as?”

  “Being assaulted by your brother on the terrace, being framed for indecent conduct with the nanny...an attack by the estate’s agent...”

  “Mr. Daidley?! Surely not!”

  “It is as I say.”

  She approached me and took my hands into hers. “I am terribly sorry that you have been met with such unkindness here. I shall make doubly sure that you are rewarded for your efforts. Now, please tell me precisely how my love met his end. Only then may I have some small measure of closure.”

  The immediate facts surrounding the death of the stable-boy I revealed without reservation. He had stumbled, frightened by the sudden appearance of the servant boy, and out of terror young Kwame had fled the scene and allowed him to die.

  “And what of the secrecy? Why was he carted off with little regard for a proper wake and why, still, do they obscure the location of his grave from me?”

  I reached into my coat pocket and pulled forth the letter that I had prepared before visiting her chamber. It was written using the fine paper and ink available in the library and adorned with a wax seal. Into it was pressed the Indian symbol for well-being, created by the signet ring that I wore on my left hand, a gift from a client some years past. I handed to her the carefully prepared epistle and finally summoned the courage to let my eyes meet hers but before allowing the paper to slip from my fingers I grasped her left hand and spoke.

  “My dear to say that there is nothing more to this story would be fiction. This letter contains within its words the absolute reality of what has transpired here at your family’s estate. It contains truths about your father, your brother and of your lover that you are not aware. I will
leave it in your stead but warn you that your life, of which there is hopefully a good deal left, would be all the better should you toss it into the fire and forget that it ever existed. My suggestion would be to rest comfortable in the notion that you do not live in the company of murderers and leave it at that.”

  “What of the grave site. Surely you will share that information with me? So that I may at least properly mourn my young man.”

  “For reasons that I cannot reveal lest I skirt the possibility of tainting your future happiness I have chosen to include that information only in the letter that you now hold in your hands.”

  “So is that it? I am expected to pay you a handsome bounty when all you have done is confirm what my father and brother have told me all along?”

  The intensity of my stare caught her off-guard. She looked down at the letter and seemed to take note of my fingernails, still crusted in Earth and muck. For just a moment I perceived that she caught a glimpse in my eyes of just how disturbing the nature of the truth truly was.

  After a moment I released the letter and she looked me over keenly before speaking, “If whatever it is that you have learned has affected you so deeply then I can only imagine that the impact on myself would be ten-fold.”

  “You have no idea my dear. You have no idea.”

  With that I turned and walked for the door.

  “Thank you Inspector.” she sobbed, “I know that your time here has been trying and for your honorable desire to protect my innocence I should be grateful.”

  “Think nothing of it my good lady. When you are certain, however, go to your father and ensure him that you are not in-fact with child. I regret to say that I had to fabricate the likely untruth that you were pregnant in order to loosen his tongue.”

  She gasped and put her hand to her mouth then nodded in agreement.

  “I wish you a long and happy life Miss Elizabeth. When I leave in the morning I pray that you shall be able to put this chapter of your life firmly in the past.”

  Without another word I walked from the room, shutting the door behind myself. Shortly down the hall I came to hear the familiar sound of sobbing. The door to her room was open and Miss Tripti had several suitcases strewn about her bed.

  “Pardon the interruption Miss, may I ask where you are going?”

  She looked up quickly at the sound of my voice. “Inspector Carson you startled me.”

  “It was not my intent. I would ask if you were going on holiday but from your tears I deduce that it is something rather more serious that provokes your departure.”

  “After the other morning...” she wiped tears from her lovely eyes, “I am afraid that, despite my attachment, I am no longer comfortable being in the service of the Dunning family.”

  “Worry not Miss Tripti, I have made it immensely clear to every member of the staff and family that nothing unbecoming took place. The blame falls squarely on the actions of Mr. Adrian and not upon yourself nor I.”

  She shook her head. “That is precisely my point. I care little what their opinion is of me, I am much more concerned with being in the employ of a spoiled child who has no qualms about drugging me in my sleep and dragging my unconscious body into the barn. I shall not reside in such a place. I’ve dispatched a message to my father and told him to expect my return to India shortly.”

  “I see.” I nodded. “Then may I say that it was lovely to have met you?”

  “As it was you Inspector. What now, back to London?”

  “Yes, I will be leaving in the morning.”

  “Well, then good luck in your practice. Perhaps one day I shall read about your exploits?”

  I laughed, “I suppose I would need a biographer. It seems rather unlikely for me to find an individual willing to tolerate me for such protracted lengths of time.”

  She smiled, “You’re not as disagreeable as you might fancy yourself you know?”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” her face beamed largely, “As a matter of fact I quite enjoy your company.” she then hesitated for a moment before making a most surprising proposition, “I don’t suppose you’d like to come with me, to India? You’ve never been have you? I am sure there are many a mystery to challenge you in my country.”

  I walked over to her and reached out to take one of her hands in mine. “My dear never have I been presented with such a tempting offer. Alas there is much about myself that needs improvement before I become a burden to any lady.”

  Without speaking she leaned closer and kissed me softly on the cheek. I smiled broadly at her and caressed hers before turning for the door. As I left her room I spoke without looking back, “Just so you know, had you attempted to lure me into the barn of your own accord I would not have been able to resist.”

  The sound of a girlish giggle escaping her lips echoed down the hall as I walked away.

  Epilogue

  As I departed the following morning I implored once more for Miss Elizabeth to leave the letter sealed and its contents in the past. As luck turned out I had the good fortune to share my coach with Tripti on the ride back into Leeds. Unknown to me, until I took the time to unpack my bags once back in my flat in London, she had slipped into my messenger a small slip of paper that contained an address at which she could be contacted. Over a glass of scotch I decided that I would, in time, write her. I also gave thought to what she had said in her room, that some of my adventures needed chronicling. Under most circumstances I would have disagreed but having just partaken in a series of events so bizarre that they were hardly believable my opinion deviated from the norm.

  It is thanks to that opinion that I now sit putting pen to paper, writing the volume that you hold in your hands. It has taken some weeks yet and I find myself little more distant from the events at Larchwood Estate than when I left that dreary winter morning.

  After speaking with Michael Dunning in the library that last afternoon I ran out into the weather, a heavy and ice-cold drizzle that came down with little warning and chilled me to the bone, and found the resting place of Mr. Colin Wright. It was near the elm, just as described. I had carried with me only a small shovel so exhuming his body took me the better part of an hour despite the shallowness of the grave. Wrapped in nothing but a bed sheet I found him, the cream color of it tainted with large patches of deep blue.

  Throwing it asunder I found staring at me the lifeless eyes of a man, if that is what he is to be called, with massive wounds through his chest. They were frozen wide open in an expression of horror but something even more peculiar drew my attention to them. A sort of film seemed to be separating from both and as I grasped and lifted the one from his right eye I was presented with a sight most ghastly. The membrane itself held the colors of white and green but what lie underneath was black as pitch, as though his entire eye were one giant pupil.

  Upon removing the other I found the same. There was also the inhuman blue fluid which had apparently seeped from every wound on the body and dried to a crust like blood. What sort of cruel joke of nature had left the man with such unusual features?

  Despite my strong distaste for doing so I deemed it necessary to inspect his internal organs for further signs of deformation. Using nothing more than my pocket knife I cut open the young Mr. Wright and was horrified at what I found. I have never professed to be a medical doctor but after spending some years examining the bodies of the dead, as my profession has occasionally called me to do, I knew something of human anatomy. Not a part in that young man’s body lie in the proper place. Liver, stomach, pancreas...all were either missing or misshapen.

  Around the time that my hand reached where his heart should lie I must have touched something, some small cell that still held the tiniest bit of life within it, for I was overcome with a sensation for which I have little in my vocabulary to describe. It felt as though an electrical shock caused every muscle in my body to convulse and there in the misty forest I screamed out in pain as a wave of thoughts and emotions that did not belong to me fl
ooded into my mind. Shortly thereafter I lost consciousness.

  Upon waking my watch told me that I had been incapacitated for roughly twenty minutes. Of more import, however, was the fact that I seemed to have the knowledge of everything that had transpired. I remembered the carnal embrace of Miss Elizabeth and the glaring of her brother Adrian as though I had experienced them first-hand. There were other memories as well, ones that I could not put into proper context. Another life before that of Colin Wright, or before Colin Wright existed as Colin Wright and as I stumbled from the forest they rushed at me like a series of waves crashing upon a beach.

  Barely had I composed myself when I burst into the library; wet and covered in both dirt and gore. Michael Dunning was still there and ran to my aid. I told him of what had taken place and he insisted that he had warned me against looking too deeply into the matter. After he’d dispatched Mrs. Kyle for a pail of water and some rags to clean me up and his son to once again bury the stable- boy’s body he’d agreed with my decision to write Elizabeth the letter. To leave the choice up to her. He told me of what they found at Eight Hill. Whatever it was that Colin Wright had been he was not the first of them to visit the English countryside.

  So there lies the truth. Michael Dunning and his untrustworthy son, each with his own motive, had conspired to kidnap Colin Wright. The kidnapper had been delayed and when the servant boy had gone to see if the deed had been done he’d startled Mr. Wright who’d fallen to a most grisly death. Discovering not only the horror of the accident but the truth of Colin’s otherworldly nature the master and his agent had hurried the body away to be buried before any further inquiry could be posed.

  As to the matter of Mr. Wright’s memories, it has taken me some time to make sense of it all. In the weeks since I have returned to London I have come to understand that what I perceived to be a life separate from that of Colin Wright’s own was merely, instead, another chapter in it. Strange beings that I struggle still to describe and thoughts and emotions that seem out of place in my human mind, yet there they are. I can explain it in no manner other than that Colin Wright was a being not of this Earth. One who had come here for purposes that I may in time come to grasp and who fell in love, for I truly feel his love for Miss Elizabeth, and did his best to conceal who and what he was.