Chapter Eleven
Unfortunately, Samuel's corpse failed to yield anything more definitive about the bruising and lacerations on his body, nor enough unambiguous evidence pointing to a cause of death other than drowning. The lividity created by his being turned and stuffed between the mattress complicated matters. A full scale autopsy was, of course, out of the question.
"Gentlemen." Julia said to William and Josiah as she pulled the sheet back up over Samuel. "The body has no more to tell us. I cannot separate peri-mortem from post- mortem injuries. Samuel was an excellent swimmer, so I find it hard to imagine he drowned unless something else happened to him, but drown he did. That much is easy to determine. I was open to the idea of an accident: he goes in the water and is somehow overcome by debris. But hiding his body indicates foul play. We therefore need another avenue of inquiry."
"I feel that for everyone's safety, I must make a preliminary determination as to where and how Mr. Wilmont was murdered," William explained, "since we have, up to this point, ruled out suicide."
"Also, neither one of us have any jurisdiction here," Julia added.
"I know. We are still looking into the matter as our hostess has requested, until such time as we can contact the authorities," William reminded her.
With darkness soon approaching, the three of them went outside to comb the area surrounding where the body had been found. Not wanting to remain in the house with a potential murderer, several of the other guests followed them outside to the back lawn, where they all congregated.
William would have preferred not to have an amateur posse mucking around, especially since he knew that perpetrators enjoy inserting themselves into investigations and a guilty party might take the opportunity to cover up the crime. Interestingly enough, he noted that Donald Harvey was not among the assembled.
"Where shall we begin?" asked Josiah as they walked hurriedly. They were ever mindful of the encroaching twilight and didn't want to waste another day.
"We know where Samuel's body was pulled from the water, so we should look for any evidence of other disturbances. The working hypothesis is an assault. So first we look for evidence of a struggle," William instructed as the other guests nodded and joined in the search, working outward from where his body was found.
Not quite two minutes later, Josiah Atkinson shouted out for William, and by the time he arrived, others were not far behind, eager to see what had been discovered, Thelma in the lead.
Atkins pointed to a slender trail coming down from land towards shore. Walking a little ways towards it, William found barely visible footprints of misshapen mud, deforming due to the rain. "No one else has walked here, have they?" William asked the gathered crowd who offered a chorus of murmured dissents. "Then these are quite possibly Mr. Wilmont's. Please avoid them."
William walked alongside the trail, looking up a small rise; he recognized the place as he'd been there the day before on his ramble—the estate's quaint and peaceful cemetery.
Halfway between the shore and graveyard, a lone Cottonwood had succumbed to the fury of the previous evening's storm. Around it, the earth was freshly disturbed revealing a barely concealed body, long-ago skeletonized, the roots of the tree having thoroughly entwined with the bones.
William made his sign of the cross in blessing. Scanning the area, he frowned. "When I was up here the other day, this tree was standing."
The other guests slogged right behind William, careful to avoid the actual footprints, coming to an abrupt halt once they understood what they were looking at. Leonetta screamed at the ghoulish sight and collapsed on the spot into Daphne's arms.
Thelma and her sister handed the swooning Leonetta over to her husband, then Thelma came closer to the grisly find, adjusting her spectacles. Her voice quavered. "What happened here?"
"The tree's shallow root system gave way and it toppled over; you can see the crown still has some leaves which made it even more vulnerable to wind and wet ground." William patted his pockets in frustration – his tweed walking jacket did not have any of the small pockets full of tools and implements he was used to carrying. Instead he looked carefully at the tree's girth and made a calculation based on his own hand spans. "I'd say this tree was ten inches in diameter, so for this species that is approximately twenty years old. Might our body be its contemporary?" he wondered.
"No family member has been laid to rest here in half a century, maybe more." Thelma offered, shaking her head.
Julia looked at the remains and considered. "Though his clothes are in poor condition, the style and cut do suggest a recent corpse." She turned to Thelma. "I am so very sorry this is happening to you and your family. It is getting dark. Would you get everyone back to your house? And ask Mr. Shaggis if he would be so kind as to bring out a tarp to cover this poor soul?"
"I am going to wish to speak with him as well. What else can you say about our skeleton, Julia?" William asked.
Julia shrugged. "I have no idea the cause of death. There's no soft tissue to examine for a cursory determination. I'd have to examine the bones in greater detail and I might even need an excavation of the site for further physical evidence for that."
"Indeed. But a hasty burial in a shallow grave tends towards the circumstances being foul play. Even planting a fast growing tree over it to obscure the fact, points to guilt." William returned to the body. Kneeling down besides the remains and grabbing a nearby twig to lift the rags, he found a long gold chain attached to what had once been a fine timepiece hidden in the remains of the man's clothing, long-ago destroyed by the harsh elements and the roots of the tree. "What happened here twenty years ago?" he murmured more to himself than anyone else.
Brushing mud from the surface of the watch, William pocketed it, and stood to further survey the area when he heard Josiah Atkinson's voice.
"Detective Murdoch, I do believe I've found something," he called out. "I followed the track in the other direction."
William took Julia by the hand as he was in no mood to leave her alone in the current situation. They followed the ruined foot prints from the felled tree and skeleton back to the shore, coming upon what appeared to be the remains of a small jetty. Not too far from the water's edge, a yellow rowboat was upside down yet still tethered to one of the jetty's posts.
"This seems like a logical place for Samuel to enter the water," Atkinson offered, gesturing at the jetty's remnants. "Considering where his body was found."
"One set of tracks going directly away from the cemetery to shore. Julia… Is this coincidence?" William looked back and forth from shore to the downed Cottonwood, pointing up towards the cemetery.
"If I were not a participant in all of this, I would rule it an accident, but I'm reluctant to do so because there is something suspicious going on here," Julia explained.
William nodded. "Your thoughts, Josiah?"
"As you say, there is only a single set of footprints leading away from the gravesite to shore," Atkinson mentioned. "As I followed the trail, I walked on the edge so as not to destroy the original set, while looking for another set. I found none, and I would think that if he were being pursued or attacked, there would be more than one," he theorized.
"I concur, Josiah. I came to the same conclusion, as well as that the steps are evenly paced in walking stride, not a running one." William sighed. "On the other hand, he could have been attacked at the shoreline, making those foot prints irrelevant. The problem is we have found no evidence of an altercation."
Julia crossed her arms and paused. "I am interested in the psychology of this death. Samuel appears to have gone directly from the overturned tree to the water on his own. The question remains why did he do so?" Julia frowned, suddenly tired. "Was Samuel being Samuel, taking care of his family? Was he attempting to row to the other shore and get help and suffered a tragic accident after all?" Julia put the question out again. "Or was Samuel so distraught at what he discovered, he took his own life?"
"How? Then who and why hide his body?" Josiah asked. "It is the same reasoning against it being an accident; it seems unlikely to be a coincidence."
"Indeed. That logic is unassailable." William helped Julia up the last part of the trail. "It's time to go back and get to the truth."
Atkinson went on ahead, letting William and Julia walk at a slower pace to give her a break. Despite his declaration, William trekked towards the house in a contemplative mood, unsure the truth was going to reveal itself.
Logic aside, I still wonder how the discovery of that grave is related, if at all, to Samuel's death. Are there more deaths to come?
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
The four of them, William, Julia, Thelma and Daphne, were in the billiard room which William had commandeered. William succinctly laid out what the facts were as he knew them for the sisters to absorb.
"You really do believe Samuel was murdered? By someone who is in this house right now?" Daphne was distraught, leaning heavily against her sister. "That is horrible, just horrid."
Julia reached out to comfort her as well. "We have to admit to that possibility. What we do not know is why."
"And that?" Thelma pointed to the bulge in William pocket. "When I looked back I saw you extract something from…from the body under that tree. What is it?"
William pulled a linen square out of his pocket, unwrapping a piece of ruined gold chain attached to part of a crumpled pocket watch, the two halves of which had been bent and twisted shut. "Have you ever seen this before?" He handed it to her to examine.
Thelma took her glasses off to look more closely, pulling a silky strand of brown hair behind her ear to get it out of the way. "There is no inscription or marks to be read. I thought you said it was a male body you found. This looks is very small for a man's watch, although the chain is not very delicate." She passed it to Daphne who turned it over quizzically in her hand.
"Excellent observation, Mrs. White." William accepted the watch back. "Yet Julia assures us the remains are masculine."
"What has this got to do with Samuel's death?"
Thelma always did get right to the point, Julia observed. "It may be only coincidence, entirely unrelated, except for the fact we discovered Samuel went directly from the overturned tree to the lake where he perished. Are you sure you do not have any idea who might have been buried there?"
A tight voice interrupted. "Is it Peter?" Caroline Balfour strode stiffly into the room, startling them. She'd obviously been eavesdropping. "Mr. Murdoch, you said that tree was at least twenty years old. My fiancé went missing almost twenty years ago. Josiah tells me you found a watch with that body. Tell me if it is Peter Thayer!"
"Oh, Caroline, you can't believe…" Daphne objected.
"I will believe whatever I wish! Right before he disappeared, I gave Peter my brooch watch to use after his was damaged." Her mouth pulled into a fleeting smile of remembrance. "He told me he suffered some ribbing because of it. Was that Peter?" Her smile collapsed again and she turned to Julia for answers. "I know you never met him. Peter was six feet, two inches tall, dark hair."
"We have no idea, Caroline, and I did not take any precise measurements, but by the length of the femur I'd estimate the body is over six feet in height…."
William handed the watch over to Caroline who fingered it softly. "Was this yours?" he asked.
Caroline did not answer that question, posing another in a harsh whisper. "Did Donald kill Samuel? Did Samuel realize that bastard must have killed my Peter, confronted him, and Donald killed again to keep the secret?" Her beautiful face was a mask of grief and rage.
"No." William coughed slightly. "Although that would be a good motive for murder. But, no. Mr. Harvey has an air-tight alibi for where he was at the time of Samuel's death." Caroline's deep blue eyes bored into him, unblinking for what seemed like an eternity. "I am sorry," he finally said. Head down now, she wordlessly handed him back the watch and walked out of the room, her previous energy having evaporated.
"Is she right?" Daphne asked into the shocked silence of the room. "Is that her fiancé's remains out there? Is that the reason Sam was killed?"
Thelma finished the thought. "And is the killer responsible for hiding his body to cover up the crime somehow?"
Julia saw William was only half listening, her husband's face in that study in concentration he get gets when his logical mind is visualizing disparate data points and thinks he is on to something. She leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "William? What is it?"
After a pause, William began to pace, speaking rapidly. "What if we view these as separate events? What if the person who moved Mr. Wilmont's corpse was not the murderer, but the person responsible for all the supposedly amusing college hazing and pranks we have been experiencing?" William asked in an excited tone.
"Who in their right mind would think such a thing is humorous? So help me God!" Thelma vehemently interjected.
"That's just it, Mrs. White. We've been willing to dismiss these events as lads reliving their school days, but what if they weren't meant to be humorous?" William's proposed. "What if they were designed to intimidate? To frighten? Mr. Atkinson and I removed Mr. Harvey from our list of possible suspects for your brother's demise, but what if he played another role? What if hiding Samuel's body was merely another opportunity to invoke fear and tension in the house?"
"What on earth are you getting at, William?" Julia snapped, clearly feeling the sting of head injury accompanied by an approaching hangover.
"We've learned that Mr. Harvey was an interested buyer for this estate, correct Mrs. White?" William queried.
"Unfortunately, yes. I cannot fathom why Samuel agreed to let him be the first to view and make an offer on it. Everyone knows he is unscrupulous and does not conduct fair deals. I wanted him offer it to the Nottinghams or even Phil and Marcus, or to list it with a sales agent, but he insisted on showing it to Donald. What does that have to do with any of this?" Thelma wondered.
"The notes we found amongst your brother's belongings suggest a threat and possibly even blackmail. What if our malevolent spirits were none other than Mr. Harvey? A man who has been conspicuously absent for most of the day, I might add."
Daphne made a less than ladylike noise. "I have never subscribed to the idea this house was haunted."
William concurred. "There is another explanation. What I'm trying to say is that what if we don't have a murderer in our midst, but rather someone who is not above some malicious and underhanded means to obtain an excellent real estate bargain?" he asked the women with a grimace. So much for the 'unassailable logic' of an hour ago, he complained to himself.
"That sounds just like him." This time it was Julia who answered, her words laced with venom. "It is exactly like Donald Harvey to exploit any advantage; that it made other people upset would only be a bonus for him."
"The only problem is that Samuel denied there were any pranks, only necessary repairs on an old house," William pointed out. "He received the threats, so that means he either did not know who was doing them, or he did and was keeping silent for some reason. If you are right he was protecting Mr. Harvey."
"Someone still killed my brother, Sam!" Daphne's voice was pained.
"Actually," Julia reported in a slightly calmer voice, "the evidence is as compelling for an accidental drowning as for a murder…"
Thelma and Daphne looked at each other, then held a whispered consultation. "We need to know, one way or the other." They stood in unison, Thelma speaking for the pair. "We are going to find Donald as a start."
Julia held William back for a moment as the sisters went to search their house. "William, what if there is no connection between the hazing and Samuel's death, but there is a connection between Samuel and that corpse?"
"Precisely my worry. And you will recall Mr. Wilmont was most upset about Caroline Balfour attending this house party. If that is her missing fiancé, rather than be as surprised as she appeared to be, perhaps she recently came to that knowledge. She might therefore have motive to revenge his death." He shook his head. "We have two mysteries. I think your friends are correct…we need to confront Mr. Harvey, and I have an idea about that." William winked at her.
Julia accepted the gesture—knowing he was in full detective mode and they were going to do this together. "Then we need more information about exactly when Peter Thayer disappeared."
"And who was here at the time." William had an idea about that too.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Looking in various rooms in the sprawling house, Julia searched for Caroline Balfour, who had disappeared, after learning that the corpse discovered outside was most likely her lover.
Just once, Julia wanted to wear pretty dresses, have a good time, and simply be Mrs. Murdoch. That opportunity was lost when Samuel's body was found, but she at least did have the consolation of working with William, of observing just exactly how his mind worked and how he put the pieces together to crack the diabolical puzzles he solved.
Eventually finding Caroline in disused study, Julia gingerly approached the woman sitting on an old, cracked leather chair by the window as darkness settled upon the lake.
"I'm very sorry for your loss, and of course that you had to find out like this, Caroline." Julia began as she stopped close enough to talk to the woman, yet far enough away to keep a respectful distance.
Caroline remained silent for quite a while. "Samuel was supposed to be my friend! For twenty years…twenty years! I wondered what had happened to Peter. I always felt that there was something he was hiding, perhaps an affair…." she whispered before breaking down crying again.
"That's what we're trying to discern. Did they kill Peter in cold blood, was it an accident, what was it? What can you tell me about the last time you saw Peter?" Julia asked, keeping herself calm and patient.
"New Year's celebrations at my father's house, 1886. That's where his watch was destroyed in drunken revelry and I gave him mine as I was mostly to blame. We went back to our respective schools soon after and continued to correspond until he no longer returned my letters."
"When was that?"
"I'd say about Easter time, after our school break. Initially I was worried he did not write back, but did not think that much about it, since his course load was challenging. I assumed he was caught up. Then his parents found out he had left school when his university notified them of such. They notified me in turn," she added, looking down at the rumpled linen handkerchief she was twisting in her hands.
"Though they didn't attend the same school, Peter still knew Sam and Donald, and would occasionally go hunting with one another at their country houses on the weekends…." Her voice wavered. "I feel so guilty for having introduced Peter to them… When I asked Samuel and Donald if they knew anything about where he might have gone, they mentioned something about him deciding to venture out west; something he never, ever spoke of. I…. I never once suspected this," she splayed her hands. "All those years they lied to me, misled me, gave me false hope," her voice cracked as she began to cry again. "I had no closure. I never have been able to move on," she rasped, large tears running down her face.
"Caroline, you didn't deserve any of this. If it's any consolation, now you know that Peter never left you of his own accord," Julia awkwardly added, not sure of what to say in such a time as this.
"No, but that's still the best years of my life, gone. What was it that the gypsy woman said? Three can keep a secret if two are dead? Perhaps you should see Donald about what that secret might be," Caroline stated, turning away from Julia to signify that she wanted to be alone once more.
A few minutes later, Julia found William exiting the kitchen.
"Julia, did you find Caroline? Did she have anything to say?" he wondered as Julia met him at the base of the stairs.
"I did indeed. Sam and Donald even told her some tale about Peter starting a new life out west, but that never made sense to her," Julia explained, bringing William up to speed.
"That detail there seems to suggest that they were involved either directly or indirectly in his disappearance," William agreed.
"I think it gives great credence to the theory that one or both of them killed Peter, and one blackmailed and or threatened the other. I'd also wager that our culprit was Samuel and that Mr. Harvey was our extortionist," Julia added.
"I'm inclined to agree," William nodded. "I find it most unusual that Mr. Harvey has been conspicuously absent the past few hours," he added.
"I don't find it unusual that he's missing at all. He's up to something!" Julia snapped.
Holding up a hand in acknowledgement that his wife had been partially correct, he nodded. "I'm inclined to agree. Any idea where our friend might be in this house?" he asked.
Just then, a loud noise was heard from above their heads and William and Julia rushed upstairs to discover the source. Following the voices, they eventually found themselves in the tower, whereupon they discovered Thelma and Daphne Wilmont, confronting none other than Donald Harvey. Thelma had Donald's sleeve in one fist, and her other fist threatening his already wounded nose.
"I insist you put it back to the way it was at once, you monster! Or else I will have you charged with destruction of property until I can have you charged with two counts of murder," Thelma raged at the man who carried a screwdriver in his hand, near the railings at the top of the tower. He also had the light fixture apart.
At sounds just like him
Donald snatched his hand away from her grasp. "Put it back!? I'm repairing it, you ungrateful wench. Here I am attempting to stabilize this ruin while you accuse me of destroying it. So much for doing a good work for a widow and an old maid! I was even going to offer to take it off your hands," he retorted.
"I find you odious, you corpulent pig! I own the house now, and I will never sell it to you, rest assured Mr. Harvey," Thelma shouted back.
"Are you sure? I thought it went to Nottingham! Will anyone else even offer you a cent for this haunted trap?" Harvey countered.
"You might want to save that money for a lawyer. " William used his clearest, most assertive voice. "There was never any haunting, was there Mr. Harvey?"
"Of course not. Only weak minded idiots believe in that clap-trap." Harvey's patronizing tone was nauseating.
"Which you had no compunction about exploiting." William quietly moved the Wilmont sisters back. "You stirred up old stories about the so-called 'Lakeside Lasher.' It was you behind the half-silvered mirror in the music room, wearing a disguise to frighten Mrs. Fairweather by bringing up a simple lamp to reveal yourself from the other side of the glass. Your rain slicker is dry now but the extra pair of shoes in your room are soggy. You created hoaxes, engineered mishaps to put pressure on Samuel Wilmont, to have him feel off balance."
"I did no such thing! This is an old house which the family has allowed to fall into disrepair. Is this how you investigate, Detective Murdoch? Absurd accusations?"
William fished a handful of papers out of his pocket. "In my investigation, we found threats to Mr. Wilmont that seem to be in your handwriting. Care to explain that?" William calmly asked. He showed his evidence side by side.
Harvey's face worked, his brown eyes flicking back and forth showing the wheels obviously turning in his head. A dismissive smile emerged on his lips. "That was a joke between Samuel and me, all in good fun. Merely revisiting our college days, Murdoch. Something with which I understand you have no experience…"
William ignored the dig and persisted. "It also makes you complicit in harming my wife, who could have been even more severely injured earlier today as the result of your alterations to the house."
"Your wife was never the most graceful…"
William knew Harvey was trying to derail the conversation, and it took all his might to remain under control. "Part of your so-called pranking was turning Mr. Wilmont's body under his mattress so it would appear to be a supernatural event."
"All right, yes. So what? Sam himself would have gotten the humor in it."
Daphne hissed, launching herself at Harvey to slap him; Thelma held her back with effort. "How dare you!" she cried.
"That behavior makes you look most suspicious in Samuel's death," Julia inserted herself angrily. "You involved yourself in obfuscating physical evidence. Even a failed medical man should know that much. It rather points to your guilt!"
"I had nothing to do with Sam's death." Harvey was studiously casual, practically gloating. "I was otherwise engaged. Your approach is ham-handed, Murdoch."
"Not so fast!" William stopped him. "You have field-glasses, do you not? Quite powerful ones." William gestured. "I know because I borrowed them to look out your bedroom window. You have a clear view of the Nottingham-Wilmont family cemetery. I believe you saw that tree had fallen over and knew exactly what that meant. You told Samuel, didn't you? You threatened to reveal the conspiracy!"
"You cannot prove that!"
"But you knew, didn't you? Mr. Shaggis confirms you were here in late April 1886—with Samuel and Peter Thayer. An unseasonably warm day; he recalls it was the earliest in the year he'd ever been asked to take out the boats which is why it stuck in his mind. You told Caroline Balfour that her fiancé had confessed to you he had a yearning to go out west. That was not true, and that lie means you knew he was dead. The only question is how you killed Peter Thayer. I am certain an autopsy will reveal that in time."
The energy of the space crackled. Daphne and Thelma were frozen in place, glaring at Donald Harvey. Beside him Julia was breathing in short gasps. William let the tension build. Julia had given her insights about this man, how he cannot stand to be dismissed or lose the spot light. William therefore turned around to leave.
He got to the first step before Harvey erupted in a red- faced screech. "You don't understand. There was no conspiracy to kill Thayer. I was merely helping Sam out! Thayer drowned out on the lake, an accident. Sam panicked and I helped him dig a grave and burry the poor sod. A tragedy, which would have ruined Sam and he knew it." He sneered. "But after all Thayer was a nobody."
"A cover up is as bad as the crime, Mr. Harvey. It is very convenient for you that Mr. Wilmont is not here to dispute your account." William's voice was flat. Behind Julia was Caroline Balfour whose wounded look and bruised eyes stared up, next to the bloodless face of Dorcas Harvey. "And this morning?"
"Yes I told him I thought his secret was uncovered. I did not have to kill him to protect myself, and Margaret will attest to where I was. Sam was weak. He had no stomach. He threw himself into the water, just out of spite!" Harvey whined. "Sam was going to sell to me… and I would have gotten away with it if not for you meddling twits."
Daphne gasped and sobbed against her sister.
Harvey's small eyes burned out of his plump cheeks, spittle graced his mouth in a mockery of righteous indignation.
Julia was mesmerized by the whole confrontation, not even aware she had been holding her breath…. which got immediately knocked out of her as Skidoo barreled past, the animal pushing William aside as well as he galloped up to the old observation platform—and straight into Donald Harvey.
Later on when Julia replayed the sequence of events, she and William would disagree on the exact order.
They do agree that Skidoo's howl blended eerily with Harvey's "Nooooo…" as the man toppled back into the sabotaged bannister and that Dorcas Harvey never budged from her position on the stairs; she kept staring curiously at her hands as if they did not belong to her, declaring that the dog pulled away and her hands could not hold on to the leash.