Chapter 15: Murder at The Vicarage

IV

My Life Sense had allowed me to notice the woman as soon as I entered the room, so when Joseph asked, open mouthed, “How?” I was forced to just smile.

“Wow!” David exclaimed, “I knew your Detection skill was something but how? I didn’t see anything.”

Jumping on the excuse I replied, “You’ll get there some day.”

After another couple of seconds of waiting, the woman huffed in an annoyed tone and untangled herself from the tight space.

Once she was free, David began, “I’m placing you under arrest on suspicion of murder.” Before either the woman or Joseph could protest I put a hand on the investigator's shoulder.

“Not so fast, I believe we should interview her like the others.”

“What?” David questioned, incredulous, “but she was hiding in the house where a murder was committed, if that isn’t suspicious I don’t know what is.”

I smiled kindly at the younger man before turning from him to the woman.

“Would you be so kind as to introduce yourself?” I asked.

She looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression before complying, “My name is Sam…”

She was cut off by Mrs. Inclement, “Sam Hunter. She’s the Hunter Mr. Sanguis prosecuted for poaching, he hated her.”

David raised an eyebrow at the news before coming to a conclusion, “You were trying to get your revenge, is that it?”

“She would never!” Joseph shouted, interposing himself between the two. The woman had remained stoically silent throughout the exchange but the faintest flush adorned her cheeks at the maid’s outburst.

“Inspector,” I said in a calming tone, “I think whatever is going on here is far more pedestrian.”

“You do? What is it?” he asked, not seeing the picture.

“Miss Hunter, how long have the two of you been intertwined?” I inquired. David still didn’t seem to understand but by the smile dawning on Mrs. Inclement’s face, she clearly did.

“Oh Joseph, darling, why didn’t you tell me? You wouldn’t have had to sneak around like this,” Narcissa Inclement gushed.

Whatever tinged Sam Hunter's cheeks seemed to be contagious as it crawled its way up Joseph's face, they unconsciously moved closer to each other.

“Let me guess, you were too busy investigating each other to determine the cause of the strange noise?” I asked.

It finally clicked for David and he spluttered before looking back and forth between the pair, “but how did you get in, no one reported seeing you enter.”

The quiet elven woman seemed to find her footing with this as she scoffed, “There are any number of ways to get into a house as big as this unseen.”

“What about the garden?” David followed up.

“It abuts many other gardens and the far hedge borders a public park,” Sam replied, derision in her tone.

“Just so I can be clear here, you hunt with a bow, not a crossbow?” I interjected, as the thought came to me.

“Of course. No self respecting elven huntress would ever touch anything but an elven made bow,” she replied, turning her judgemental eyes on me.

I nodded at the confirmation.

“She’s right,” I said to David, “Anyone might have entered the grounds. We should expand the search and interview the neighbours.”

David sighed as he had when he was a much younger officer and replied, “Not door duty?”

“Yes, door duty,” I responded, flatly. “If you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Inclement, Joseph, Sam. And David, do make sure your men are aware of our newest guest.”

With that I left, my instincts told me more could be learned this way. David seemed unsure of my decision but followed dutifully. We bayed adieu to the guards that remained as we left the estate, following the road along to the next house. The hedges that surrounded this property were flowering in any number of colours and, as we entered through the floral archway, it was clear that whoever lived here had a great fondness for gardening. Approaching the thatch-roofed cottage through the roses tunnel, I heard the sound of buzzing bees and could just make out the silhouettes of skep through the foliage.

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At the white door, painted with flowers, we found the cord and David rang the bell. After the few minutes of obligatory waiting that unsolicited calls required, the door opened. On the other side, a hunched-over, elderly woman that appeared to match that skeleton for age peered out through squinting eyes. She was wearing a straw hat and holding a muddy trowel. Looking us up and down speculatively until she seemed to recognise me.

“Mr. Pools, what a pleasant surprise. Please, do come in. I’ve just stopped for my afternoon tea. Did you hear about what happened at the Vicarage, terrible business that,” she rattled off, turning and leading us inside. “I always thought that Mr. Sanguis was a bit of a fool but I’m surprised that anyone would want to kill him. The only thing he did get right was supporting that Orlando fellow, he doesn’t tolerate any funny business, oh the stories I could tell you about the old Paladin, people though he spent all his time in the capital but I’ll have you know there was a special someone he visited. Not a celibate that one let me tell you. Much like that Miss Cabbage, Lucius’ daughter, posing nude for that artist Cain. Back in my day if a woman was to act like that she would be cast out. That’s when things were done properly,” the old woman rambled as we came to yet another sitting room.

“Excuse me, but how did you know about the murder? It only happened a few hours ago,” David asked, his face wrinkled.

“I was busy trimming the hawthorn, which abuts the Vicarage, when I saw Mr. Inclement stumble out, looking awfully pale. Well of course I asked what was wrong, and offered him a cup of tea, as any good neighbour should. I was shocked when he began mumbling about murder, told me the whole story. At which point I told him, I said, you must go, fetch the constabulary! Naturally he complied, nodding all the while, and by the looks of you, you must be some sort of officer no? I suppose that makes you one too Mr. Pools?” she finally got around to asking.

“I dabble, Miss Gardener,” I replied, finally recognizing the woman from my weekly bowls club.

“Now, you didn’t happen to hear anything else. Let's say, around first bell?” I inquired.

“Hmm, let me see,” she said, drinking a sip of tea, “yes there was something, it sounded just like someone sneezing. I thought they might be hiding in my hedge, didn’t half give me a fright.”

David gave me a look before saying, “that could have been Sam.”

“Hmm.” I replied before addressing Miss Gardener, “At what time was this?”

“Seconds before first bell,” she replied.

“I don’t think it was her,” I told David, “in fact, I don’t think it was a sneeze at all,” I said before turning back to Miss Gardener. “Did you happen to see anything else suspicious?”

“Yes, as it so happens I did,” she replied, once she had torn her eyes from David's puzzled expression. “You know that woman, new in town, calls herself Miss Estrange,” she began, leaning in conspiratorially. “I’ve noticed that she's been having a gentleman caller over almost every day. Not much of a gentleman if you ask me.”

“I’m sorry Miss but that’s not quite what he meant,” David said.

“Ahh, but guess who it was?” the old lady continued. When neither of us spoke; she answered, “it was Doctor Winwick!” When the news didn’t get the response she was hoping for, she carried on, “Doctor Winwick, who’s been married for more than a decade.”

“Miss Gardener,” I responded, “might it be that Miss Estrange is unwell.”

“Ohh, no I don’t think so. You’d have to be on death's door to need so many visits and she looks perfectly healthy.”

“Was he carrying his bag?” David asked.

“Well, I suppose.” Miss Gardener conceded, dejectedly.

“I’m sorry Miss, but is there anything else you might have seen regarding the Vicarage?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Not really, only some comings and goings,” she responded.

“Any of today's visitors?” I pressed.

Excited at the renewed interest, Miss Gardener spoke, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I saw when the Vicar left, about twelfth bell. He went to the stable but looked put out when he returned on foot. Then there was Mr. Sanguis, of course, arrived about half past. A coach dropped him off, I remember because the clattering of hooves disturbed my nap. Let me see… then it was Mr. Cain about twenty to one.”

“Are you sure?” David interjected, noting all this down.

“Oh quite sure,” she replied, “I clearly recall him coming in from that shed he uses as a studio, entering the back of the house, before coming back out and going round to the front. He was only in there for about five minutes.”

“Was he carrying anything?” David asked, professionally.

“I couldn’t see him clearly, he was through the hedge and across the garden you see,” she replied.

“Was there anyone else?” I asked.

“Hmm, let me think. Ah, how could I forget, Mrs. Sanguis also came to the Vicarage. That would be at about ten to. She came over to the hedge I was trimming and said hi.”

“Was she carrying anything?” David repeated.

“No, and the dress she was wearing was of a modern sort, nowhere to hide a thing,” Miss Gardener replied, annoyed.

Before long we found ourselves concluding the interview and we were sent off, biscuits in hand. When we were back on the road that connected this neighbourhood, David piped up:

“The thing I don’t understand, is the Note the Victim wrote. He had gone there for a meeting with the Vicar, could it be about the church’s misappropriated funds?”

Before I could correct him a uniformed man came running up to us.

“Sir,” he panted, catching his breath. “We found something at the Sanguis residence.”

“Really, what?” David asked.

“I don’t know, I was just told to get you,” the man replied, hands on his knees.

“Come then Mr. Pools, we should get there quickly,” David urged.

“You go ahead, I would like to visit the Curate, Mr Hills. And I’m quite sure,” I concluded, waving David away. The two left at a brisk pace towards the Sanguis’. I pondered the evidence as I meandered toward the church. As small as Market Basing was, it took barely any time to reach the site. Standing on the threshold I could feel the holy energies within. One more step and I might be able to get rid of that Lich Controlling me. I poked my little finger through and a distal phalanx fell to the sacred ground.