The Unpleasantness at Baskerville Hall (Reeves & Worcester Steampunk Mysteries Book 4) (16 page)

He was looking at a stout wooden cupboard on the wall between the two central windows. The door wasn’t only open, it was hanging at an odd angle. It had been forced.

“No one touch anything,” I said, sensing that Morrow was about to leap forward and have a good rummage. “Reeves. See if the curare bottle is still there.”

Reeves searched three shelves of assorted bottles.

“There is no blue bottle, or any bottle labelled curare, sir.”

“When was the last time you saw the curare?” I asked Morrow.

“Last week, I think. Was it Tuesday or Wednesday I replaced Ruskin’s arms?”

“Tuesday,” said Henry. “It was after the scene with the rotating swords of death.”

Morrow was certainly looking a dashed sight chirpier since the discovery that the drugs cabinet door had been forced. Witheridge too for that matter. The footman didn’t actually smirk at me, but there was a good deal of insolence in the look he gave me.

“Any idea what was used to force the door, Reeves?” I asked.

Reeves gave the cabinet a good scrutinising. He examined the lock. He examined the hinges. He examined the door, swinging it open and closed several times.

“It is not a strong lock, sir. By the marks in the wood, I would suspect a screwdriver or narrow chisel was inserted between the door and cabinet, and force applied to wrench the door open.”

I couldn’t see any screwdrivers or chisels lying in plain sight.

“Do you keep any chisels or screwdrivers here?” I asked Morrow.

He didn’t.

I don’t think one is ever prepared for a scream — not one of those full-throated affairs that sound like an adjacent opera singer had just trapped her bunion in a mousetrap. I jumped a good foot the moment Lily screamed.

“What is it?” Emmeline shouted.

“A face in the window!” screamed Lily. “Look!”

We all looked. There was indeed a face in the window. A horrible, twisted face. With cat’s ears.

Fifteen

There was considerable panic. Even the stiffest upper lip quivers at the sight of a cannibal pulling faces outside a second floor window.

“Get the guns!” shouted Henry.

“No!” shouted Morrow. “You’ll frighten him.”

I don’t think the fear of frightening Selden figured too high on anyone else’s list of priorities. Those who hadn’t already fled to the safety of the corridor, swiftly joined the exodus. Only Morrow remained in his laboratory. “No, Harry! Don’t go. You’re safe here.” I heard him say as I beetled down the stairs.

Guns were once more handed out. Henry and Babbacombe raced back upstairs whilst the rest of the men — and an insistent Emmeline — spilled out the front door.

The swirling mist swallowed up the light from our lamps, but Reeves caught sight of a fast moving shape running towards the copse above the mire gate. T. Everett emptied both barrels at it, and we gave chase.

“Did I hit it?” asked T. Everett. “I’m sure I hit it.”

We found no evidence of Selden being wounded, but we did find evidence of his departure — a trail of misshapen footprints in the soft earth leading up to, and through, the now open mire gate. I’d never seen anything like them.

“Most disturbing, sir,” said Reeves. “Selden appears to run on all fours like a large cat, but, whereas the rear paws exhibit all the characteristics of the genus felis, the front paws appear almost human. You will, however, note that the indentation left by each ‘finger’ is somewhat pointed, indicating the strong possibility that Selden’s fingers have claws.”

“I thought Selden only had a cat’s ears and tail,” I said.

“Dr Morrow did mention that Selden’s body went through occasional transformations, sir. This would appear to be one of them.”

“I can’t see him,” said T. Everett, returning from the track outside the mire gate. “His trail peters out as soon as it hits the firmer ground of the track.”

I wandered over to the mire edge, expecting to see Selden’s tracks disappearing into the mire. But the only tracks were those of the cloven-hoofed woman. They disappeared into a bank of thick fog after little more than ten yards.

~

It was a long-faced and contemplative gathering that assembled back in the drawing room. One always finds that the murder of one’s host puts a dampener on proceedings, and we had the additional sogginess of a bothersome cannibal on the loose. Not to mention that none of us — including, hopefully, the aforementioned cannibal — had yet eaten.

“What are we going to do?” said Ida. “If Selden can climb walls that easily, no window’s safe. He could eat us in our beds!”

“I think we should all stay down here,” said Lily. “I’m not going upstairs on my own until he’s caught.”

Morrow attempted to calm things down.

“Ladies, you really have nothing to fear. Selden is, at heart, a gentle soul. He only kills when he feels threatened.”

“Or feels a bit peckish,” I said.

“No!” said Morrow. “That’s the other side of Selden, which only comes out when he’s frightened. If everyone keeps their windows locked and curtains drawn you’ll all be perfectly safe.”

“What if he bursts through the door?” asked Ida.

“That’s very unlikely to happen. And, even if it did, there’s a simple answer. Don’t run. Running might excite the cat within him, causing him to give chase. Keep calm, keep quiet and keep still. If you must move, walk away slowly. And don’t look at him.”

“You’re sure that’ll work?” asked Lily.

“I’ve been in the same room as Selden during his transformations,” said Morrow. “Several times. He can look terrifying, but ... he’s more frightened of you than you are of him. If you keep calm, he’ll calm down too.”

Neither Ida nor Lily looked that convinced.

“I think it best if I spend the night in my laboratory,” said Morrow. “With a light in every window and one of them open.”

“Are you mad?” said Henry. “You’ll put us all in danger.”

“On the contrary,” said Morrow. “You can station a man outside my door with a gun. Lock me in as well. No one else in the household will be in any danger. Harry’s seen me there once. I’m sure he’ll return. I’ll lure him in and convince him to give himself up. It’s the safest and quickest way to end this madness.”

“Are you sure he’ll listen to you?” asked Henry.

“He escaped from prison to see me. I’m sure he’ll listen.”

~

Our gathering broke up soon after that. Morrow beetled off to his laboratory. Henry left to organise the various sentries. T. Everett escorted Ida and Lily to their rooms. Only Emmeline and I remained.

“I can’t see Selden using a blowpipe,” said Emmeline. “It’s not his
modus operandi
, is it?”

“No, I can see him
eating
a blowpipe, but not using one. Talking of eating, are you feeling peckish, at all?”

“I’m famished. I didn’t like to say anything...”

I rang the bell and Reeves appeared moments later.

“Any chance of a cold collation from the kitchen, Reeves? Maybe with half a bot of something fortifying?”

Reeves returned fifteen minutes later with the needful.

“What do you think, Reeves?” I asked as he poured the wine. “I can see how the note lured Sir Robert to the mire gate, and I can see how the cloven-footed woman hid in wait until Sir Robert came within blowpipe range. But how did the poison dart get into his pocket? It couldn’t have been planted there, could it?”

When one’s dealing with criminal masterminds one has to explore every option.

“It is possible, sir, but I can’t help but think
cui bono.
”

“Qui who?”

“It is a phrase Cicero was very fond of us, sir.
Cui bono
— it means ‘to whose benefit.’”

“Who gains, you mean?” I said.

“Precisely, sir. Planting a poison dart in
your
pocket would benefit the murderer by casting suspicion upon you. But planting a poison dart in the victim’s pocket appears to me a wasted opportunity and benefits no one.”

“Ah, but what if it was meant to kill?” I said. “If I’d rummaged through Sir Robert’s pockets I could have speared a digit.”

“That
is
a possibility, sir, but a simpler explanation is that Sir Robert placed the dart in the pocket himself.”

“Why ever would he do that?”

“I have given considerable thought to the matter, sir. I believe that Sir Robert was approaching the mire gate when he was struck on the right side of his neck by a poison dart. The killer, therefore, was hiding somewhere nearby in the copse.”

“With you so far,” I said.

“Sir Robert’s first instinct, having felt the dart strike his neck, would be to use his right hand to examine his neck. But his right hand would be holding his shotgun. Ergo he drops the shotgun where we found it, sir.”

“You don’t think he’d keep hold of the gun and use his left hand?” I asked. We consulting detectives like to be thorough.

“While that is a possibility, sir, we need to account for the shotgun being discovered some thirty yards from the body. It is clear that the gun was dropped. I posit it was dropped the moment Sir Robert was struck.”

“Why would he put the dart in his pocket though?” asked Emmeline.

“Because upon pulling the dart from his neck, miss, he would have recognised the very strong possibility that the dart had been poisoned. He’d also know that his best hope of survival was to keep the dart so that the poison could be identified and an antidote administered.”

“So he pockets the dart,” said Emmeline.

“Precisely, miss.”

I chewed on a contemplative kidney.

“We didn’t look for footprints in the copse around where the gun was found, did we?” I said.

“No, sir.”

“And the only tracks we found belonging to the cloven-footed woman were on the path.”

“That was the only place we looked for them, sir. I don’t think we can rule out their existence elsewhere.”

“But there was someone we did observe in the copse leaving the scene barely five minutes after the murder.”

“Who?” asked Emmeline.

“Lupin.”

Sixteen

awoke the next morning uneaten. The Worcester neck was not a pincushion for poison darts, and not one of my internal organs had emigrated to the front lawn. All in all, a pretty good start to the day.

Reeves brought me my tea and drew back the curtains.

“Any more bodies, Reeves?”

“Not that I have heard, sir. According to Babbacombe, Dr Morrow’s plan to apprehend Selden did not meet with success. Selden failed to make a reappearance.”

“Bit of a long shot, I suppose. I know I’d think twice about coming back if T. Everett had taken a couple of pot-shots at me.”

“Indeed, sir. There has also been an interesting development in the search for the curare bottle.”

I sat up. “There has?”

“Yes, sir. I discovered it this morning, hidden within my room.”

“
Your
room, Reeves?”

“Indeed, sir. I was selecting my attire for the day when I noticed that the contents of my underlinen drawer were not as they should be. There had been a slight disturbance in the sock area, sir.”

I tutted, feeling for the poor chap. Reeves is very particular about socks.