Chapter Six: The plot thickens
"Mr. Hawson," I begin. The mason turns around atop the dreary cemetery, to talk to me. The small gathering of villagers is dispatching, and walking solemnly back down the hill, dressed in black, led my Master Brinner.
"Ichabod," Mr. Hawson replies. "Terrible business this."
"Yes, I agree," says I, as we too, turn and face down the hill.
"Must be awful for young Brinner there. Never knew my own father, have not to this day, could be dead for all I know. Besides, I do not think you are here to talk about such matters, how can I help you?"
"Well," I begin again, almost slipping down the hill, it slowly and softly begins to rain, not hard, but the mist is seen to have a gravitational pull about it. "I have heard that you were the first out of the church, the day, erm, the day. . ."
"Ah, yes," Mr. Hawson puts in. "But I didn't see anything," he adds, shaking his head. "He's damn clever. Knew we'd all be in the church, picked exactly the right moment. Except your young Miss Archer, she wasn't there, and Master Brinner I think. I don't recall seeing either of them there. But, we all thought it was a normal day, wouldn't have noticed anything if it hit us round the face. It is funny, if we were to know something was afoot, then we would all have been able to remember everything perfectly I dare say. Strange how your mind remembers things when there is an air of something about, is it not?"
"It is, Mr. Hawson," I try to keep up with him, and try to get my point across without offending the man in any way. "So, you say Master Brinner was not in the church?"
"No," Mr. Hawson replies, definitely. "Was not there. I remember turning to my wife and saying is it not odd that the Brinner's are not here? They are usually always at the church or with the parish, being such a strong religious family, which is a good trait in a family, I believe."
"So, aside from the absence of the Brinner's, you did not notice, any other odd occurrences, anyone else who was not in the church?" I ask.
"No, just Mr. Brinner, Master Brinner and Miss Archer, and, of course, you, Mr. Crane, but I believe you were out of town?"
"Yes."
"Awful thing to happen, especially when you were not about, being the one most likely to pick up on clues and deceptions, I suppose it is much more difficult to see things a while after the actual time, yes? Like, footsteps could be washed away by the rain, or the murderer could have returned for something he could have dropped, which would have been vital to anyone investigating." I get the distinct feeling that Mr. Hawson is getting caught up in other matters.
"Did you speak to Mr. Brinner, the day that, he was, killed?" I ask.
"Nope, didn't even see him all day, I did see Master Brinner later that day though, terribly upset he was, he was with his fathers body for most of the day, I believe, blames himself for letting such a thing happen, and for not being there when the, body, was discovered," rambled Mr. Hawson. "I saw Miss Archer, too. Before we were in the church, I think she'd just stepped outside for some air, she was a few paces from your house. She watched us go into the church, I didn't see her when we came out, I presumed she'd gone back inside."
"Right," I say, deep in thought. "Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Hawson, you have been of great assistance."
Later, I go to see Master Brinner, he is at his fathers house, sifting through some old belongings. I rap on the door and he opens it.
"Master Brinner, my deepest sympathies with you, I am so sorry about your loss," I began
"With all respect, Mr. Crane, that is wearing thin now, I have heard nothing but those lines nearly all week, and I would prefer it if people talked something else," says Master Brinner.
"Very well," I apologize. "I know this must be a difficult time for you, but I feel the need to ask you a few questions, you are not under suspicion, I merely would like to know a little, from you."
"Indeed, go ahead," offers Master Brinner, he continues to pack belongings into boxes as I speak.
"In cases such as this, I feel it is always necessary to produce a will, made out by the decea. . ., by your father. Is it possible to see his will?" I ask. Master Brinner turns, and searches on another table for it. He finds it, and hands it to me.
"I've been reading through it today, packing things for relatives." I read the will through.
"Your father left the entire estate to you, all monies, and greater possessions?" I ask.
"Yes," comes the reply. "There are only small trinkets and ornaments he wished for his sister and her family to have. Everything else is left to me."
"The will is dated 1784, how old would you have been then, sir?"
"1784," Master Brinner calculates in his head. "Nineteen, I believe, I was forty this year, my father sixty four this coming August."
"Is there any history of family feud?"
"No, not in Merry Fellon, there was a history between the Brinners and Pettineaths some years ago, they all left the village years before you moved here, Mr. Crane. They were quite close to the Mulberry family though, I suppose you could ask them about it if you needed any further information or whereabouts, although I doubt very much a Pettineath has been in Merry Fellon since the day that they left. And father has never been particularly friendly with the mason and his family, the Hawsons. He was not a very sociable person, Mr. Crane, although likeable, should the circumstances arise that one may conduct a conversation with him alone."
"I understand," I say. "And, may I ask, where were you, when Mr. Hawson found, the body of your father?"
"I was shooting in the woods with my dog, Sparrow. Mr. Crane," he says, suspiciously. "You are not suggesting that I killed my own father in such a way, to inherit his money, for he had very little. You should speak to the Hawsons if you want to further this investigation."
"Sir, all of the Hawson family were in the church, none of them could have killed your father," I explain.
"Then ask Miss Archer, she was not there, therefore, in your eyes she must be the culprit, dig deep enough and you will find a motive Mr. Crane. But do not come to me suspecting me of evil play when you can tell me what I am to tell you, because there is no point in repeating what we both already know." I am slightly confused by this comment, but do not let it interfere with my work. I thank Master Brinner for his assistance and bid him farewell.
A storm threatens to dash Merry Fellon as I step out of Master Brinner's house and walk back to my own. I know Claire will be there, waiting for me to return before she goes up to bed, and it is late. I make a mental note to apologize for my lateness.
The storm does hit Merry Fellon. After a restless few hours of sleep, I am awoken by the sound of the front door banging, and wind whistling through the downstairs rooms. I get out of bed, and descend the stairs to close the door. When I reach the hall I see Claire, already out of bed, and soaked to the skin with rain entering through the open door. She too has awoken to close the door, but the force of the wind is too much for her, and she appreciates my help. I take the open side of the door to push it closed, but before I do, something catches my eye and I suddenly abandon the door and it flies open, narrowly missing hitting Claire as I stand, almost frozen.
There is a coffin outside the church.