Here, they discovered Jeremy, his broom abandoned anyhow on the path beside him. He stood facing the back door, both hands grasping his cloth hat and pulling it so hard down on his head that his knuckles were white.
“Again,” he said in anguish. “It’s happened again.”
Constance went to him at once. Solomon brushed past them both and finally saw what was upsetting Jeremy. The body of a man lay spread across the back step.
*
Unlike the lasttime, there was no doubt that this man was dead. The flies were already buzzing around him. And the smell was such that Solomon had to raise his handkerchief to his mouth and nose.
But the next steps were distressingly familiar. Jeremy was taken into the house through the area door. The back door was locked while a stable lad was sent for a constable. Constance and Solomon forced themselves to examine the scene.
It had been raining last night, and there were muddy footprints on the path.
“They look like workman’s boots, not a little old lady’s,” Constance remarked.
“And then there is this wheel track across the grass,” Solomon said, pointing. “If I’m not mistaken, the body was brought in a wheelbarrow.”
They both had cause to recognize such tracks from the case of the girl found in the lake at the home of Constance’s friend, Lady Maule.
Constance pointed to other marks on the path just under the step. “That’s where he laid the barrow down, before tipping the body out onto the step.”
Solomon nodded. The body lay on its side, slightly curled, probably exactly as it had fallen.
“Not posed,” he murmured, “but definitely moved. This man has been dead for days.”
“And whoever brought him was careless. Or just unlucky.” She raised her eyes to his. “Is this part of the campaign to drive us out? Or meant to distract us and the police from looking into St. John’s life?”
Solomon put his arm around her and urged her away from the scene. They had both had enough. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“That Bella knows what we’re about. And that there’s every chance she told her mother.”
“In which case, we can’t rule out Cordell either,” Solomon said. “Or Zenobia Paul. Isn’t it more likely to be the minions of the old ladies?”
“Whoever it is must have brought the body some distance. It wasn’t just waiting at the bottom of the garden to be discovered. They must have allies. Either way, I shall be interested to observe Cordell’s manner when we meet him—supposing we can escape the police’s clutches before then.”
*
It was afterten before Jacintha St. John managed to shepherd her daughter into the carriage. Which was annoying. It had been Bella’s idea, after all, to keep the date of her wedding and merely draw back on the lavishness of the celebration. Jacintha had given in only reluctantly, for she would have preferred proper mourning to be publicly maintained.
On the other hand, why should Bella’s happiness be compromised because of her degenerate father? In fact, it made sense to have her safely married into the Cordell family as soon as possible just in case scandal ever broke over Terrence’s death.
For now, she thought they were safe. The police had found nothing—thank God—and she must make sure they never did. If all went according to plan, Terrence’s death would be ruled anaccident and the police investigation halted. There was always the possibility of a suicide ruling, of course, which brought its own shame, but the solicitor had assured her that juries were unlikely to bring in such a verdict unless the evidence was overwhelming. And in this case, everyone knew Terrence was a happy fellow. Even Zenobia Paul would not dispute that.
“There you are!” Jacintha exclaimed, finally running her daughter to earth in the little-used morning room, where she appeared to be having a spirited argument with her betrothed. “Oh, good morning, Han. I did not know you were here. Bella, do put on your hat—the carriage is waiting. It is you two who insist on proceeding, remember?”
“Of course, Mama,” Bella said, a little stiltedly, which made Jacintha peer at her.
“Enjoy your morning,” Han said in his easy manner. “I shall call again later, if I may…”
He kissed Bella’s cheek, and the silly girl looked outraged, as if she would have preferred to keep quarrelling. But he escorted them from the house, handed them into the carriage, and strolled across the road toward the garden.
“Don’t quarrel with a man who loves you,” Jacintha said as the carriage pulled into motion.
“How does one know?” Bella asked. “How did you know that Papa lovedyou?” Jacintha was glad not to be looking at her daughter as the question burst out, and fortunately Bella did not seem to want an answer. “Words don’t mean anything, do they?”
“Actions mean more,” Jacintha said, suddenly distracted. The carriage was held up by a queue of vehicles in front, and she found herself gazing down the crescent. A policeman in his uniform and tall hat stood on the pavement beside the front steps. “Now that is interesting. They must be investigating there again…”
“There?” Bella said, following her mother’s gaze.
