The coroner eyed me sharply. “Full name?” he barked.
He had it on his sheet, but I said, “Captain Gabriel Lacey, of the Thirty-Fifth Light Dragoons. On half pay,” I added for explanation as to why I was not in uniform and on duty.
The coroner barely nodded. “On the seventh of July you went sea bathing with your family. Please describe what you saw.”
I leaned on my walking stick and told him how Peter and I had spied the boat and towed it to shore before I sent him home and went for the magistrate.
“And the magistrate identified the young man as Joshua Bickley.” The coroner made notes then pinned me with his hard stare. “Were you acquainted with Master Bickley?”
I shook my head. “I had no idea who the young man was until the magistrate announced his name.”
“But you are acquainted with his father.”
“Briefly acquainted. We have spoken a few times.”
The coroner tapped a paper. “You spoke to him on Monday night and again on Tuesday afternoon.”
The man was well informed, but I imagined Mr. Bickley himself had mentioned this when initially questioned.
“Yes …” I said hesitantly.
The coroner gave me an impatient look. “Did you speak to him, or did you not?”
“The trouble is—IbelieveI spoke to him Monday evening but I have no memory of doing so.”
The coroner’s thin white brows went up. “What do you mean you have no memory of doing so? You very clearly remember finding the boat with young Joshua’s body inside it. Or was Monday too long ago for you? You do not seem to be in your dotage, young man.”
Amid titters around me, I swallowed, uncomfortable. “I might have been inebriated.”
A general laugh filled the room. I glimpsed Clement’s mother in a blue striped shawl and large bonnet on the edge of the crowd. She did not smile.
The coroner scowled. “I see. Well, Mr. Bickley tells me youdidspeak to him, and I must take him at his word. He also told me he asked you to help him find out what had become of Joshua, as he was growing concerned. Do you rememberthat?”
“Not from Monday night,” I said, my face heating. “Mr. Bickley repeated the request on Tuesday, when I spoke to him again.”
“And did you try to discover what had become of Master Bickley?”
I grew still more warm. “Not right away. I had other duties to see to.” I hardly wanted to confess I’d been busy trying to clear myself of the murder of Colonel Isherwood.
“Including sea bathing,” the coroner said. “Frolicking in the waves while a young man was dead and a father worried.”
I could only flush again. “I am afraid so.”
“That is hardly fair of thee.” Mr. Bickley had taken a step forward, the ladies on either side losing their hold of him.
The coroner gave him a sharp look. “Never mind, Mr. Bickley. You will have your chance to speak in a moment.”
Murmurs of sympathy rippled for Bickley, but I received only scowls.
“Captain Lacey,” the coroner continued. “What person do you suppose caused Master Bickley’s death?”
I opened my hand. “I have no idea. Perhaps Joshua came across men moving contraband. I hear smuggling is rife in this area.”
“Spoken like an ignorant Londoner,” the coroner snapped. “That is our affair. But I understand your reasoning. Your proposal is that Master Bickley stumbled upon some villains committing a crime, and they strangled him and put him into the boat and then overturned it to make his death look like an accident.”
“I can think of no other explanation. I have been told Joshua did not like boats and so likely would not be in one intentionally.”
“Thank you.” The coroner spoke firmly. “One speculation at a time, please.”
