“Are you sure it was someone after the sheep in the field and not just someone running away from the manor?” Garth asked.
The stableman stood silent for a moment looking down at Charles. “I canna say. Shall I be takin’ a lantern and searchin’ the grounds?”
“Yes,” Garth replied. He then removed the tablecloth and gently covered the body with it.
As soon as Brice had left, Alex confronted Garth. “Strange, isn’t it, how you show up and poor, old Charles gets murdered? Yes, murdered, I say, because no one who dies naturally looks like that, and I’ll wager you know something about it.”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be staying about waiting for you to spout off some ridiculous, half-cocked theory to the law.”
“You really want to hear my theory?” Alex took hold of his arm to restrain him. “I think Charles wouldn’t tell you the whereabouts of the emeralds, so you killed him.”
“Think what you want,” Garth said pulling his arm free.
Footsteps at the door drew their attention as Katherine suddenly appeared.
Garth went to her immediately. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulder.
“Garth,” she muttered, “Was Charles really murdered?” Her knees weakened, and she leaned against him.
He started to escort her back out of the room, but May-Jewel now blocked the doorway, trying to see past him and Katherine.
“Is he… is he?” she stammered.
“Yes,” Garth replied quickly. “Come, this is no place for either of you.”
But May-Jewel insisted on entering. She stared at the cloth-covered form at the table. The scene sickened and at the same time mesmerized her. “Poor old man! I’ve never seen such a sight before.” A sob escaped her lips.
“He was a good friend to mother and me,” Katherine whispered. “What could have happened to him?”
Garth replied before Alex could, saying, “We don’t have any answers yet. Did you see anyone here or in the hall? What brought you two in here in the first place?”
They told him what they had heard and seen just before entering the dining room. Alex listened, but he didn’t have a chance to question their story as Brice returned from his search of the grounds around the manor.
“There be no trace nor track of the murderer,” he announced, crossing the room to join the small group gathered near the fireplace.
“Murderer!” May-Jewel gasped, “Charles was murdered?”
“It had ta be, Mistress. When God takes ‘em, they die more peaceful like. But old Charles didna die peaceful.” He looked at Garth. “I stopped ta summon Molly. She canna be awakened.”
Horror shown in May-Jewel’s eyes. “Is she dead too?” She grabbed Katherine’s hand.
“Nay, she not be dead. Mayhaps she has taken too much o’ her medicine. What e’er the cause, she be in a deep sleep an’ canna be awakened.”
“We’ll see to her in a little while,” Garth assured them. He motioned Brice and Alex to the other side of the room and removed the cloth again to re-examine the body for the second time. Although the women didn’t leave the room, they did turn their eyes so as not to view Charles again. Garth pulled the light closer, inspecting Charles’ skin. He noted the vomit on Charles’ shirt and on the table itself. He took up a corner of the table cloth and wiped some blood off of the old man’s cheek. Prying the mouth open, Garth saw large and vicious blisters on the inside of the lips and along the tongue. He moved to open the mouth further, but as he did so, some of the flesh actually peeled back exposing the old man’s teeth.
Katherine chose that moment to come up beside him. Her voice strangled by horror at his actions, she gasped, “Oh, Garth, please don’t.” She touched his arm, and he dropped the cloth down, covering Charles once again. Katherine closed her eyes for a second as if to erase the memory of that moment. Then she said, “Garth, shouldn’t we send Brice for Vicar Hawes.”
A questioning look creased Garth’s brow and for a long, hard moment he looked into her eyes. “The vicar?”
Katherine nodded.
“Oh, of course, yes. I never thought of that. If you and May-Jewel need the comfort of the ‘man of the cloth’, it won’t hurt to have him here.” He admitted, beating down the feeling of envy for the sake of whatever support the vicar might be able to give either woman at this time.
“It’s not for me,” she emphasized, “but for Charles.” She nodded at the body, hoping he’d understand her request.
“Oh… yes, of course. Sorry.” Pulling Brice aside, Garth gave him his instructions and added, “And notify the constable of what’s happened here also.” His attention back on the corpse, Garth frowned. “If I had to offer a guess as to what killed him, I’d have to say it was poison.”
“Poison!” May-Jewel repeated. “But it looks as if his head has been bashed in!”
“Or,” her sister remarked, “that someone stuck his head in a fire, although his hair isn’t burned.
“I’ve seen this sort of death before, and it’s never pretty. But it is caused by a poison, by manchineel sap.”
Katherine’s eyebrows rose in question. “What’s that?”
“It comes from a tree. It’s also called the ‘tree of death’ because every part of the tree, the fruit, the sap and even the wood is lethal. The local natives are warned not to even stand under one of those trees when it rains. And,” he glanced over at Alex, “the sap is easily obtained on the docks for the price of a half-keg of rum.”
Alex scowled. “Why are you looking at me? I don’t know anything about this.”
Garth continued, “Manchineel grows in
