sir. The Home Secretary instructed us to put the victim
back. Your methods have become quite well known, sir. But
we’d have done the same without being told.”
“So you placed the head back into the pond,” Barnes
asked, but his tone was a bit less harsh.
“Yes, sir. We took care to put it back exactly as it had
been,” Goring replied. Some of the animosity had left his
voice. “I had the gardener, he’s the one who found the body,
tell me exactly how the victim looked when he found him.
As I said, Inspector Witherspoon’s methods have become
quite well known, and even without the H.S. intervening,
we’d have done it.”
“That’s quite right,” Darwin Venable interjected. “Look,
now that you’re here, do you mind if I go? I really must get
to the Home Office. The secretary’s got a very full schedule,
and I’ve so many things to do.”
Witherspoon started in surprise. He’d quite forgotten
the fellow was still with them. “Yes, of course, do go on
your way. We’ll not keep you.”
“Excellent.” Venable beamed his thanks and took off at a
fast trot back the way they’d come.
Barnes looked at Goring. “You did well, Constable. That
was exactly the right thing to do. But I still wish there
weren’t so many footprints.”
Goring looked as though he couldn’t decide whether to
be pleased or to continue taking umbrage. But he finally
said, “Thank you, sir. We did our best.”
“I’m sure you did,” Witherspoon said quickly, glad that
some of the tension seemed to be fading. “Could you please
Mrs. Jeffries and the Silent Knight
27
take care of getting the body to the morgue and notifying the
police surgeon that it’s been released for the postmortem.”
“Yes, sir.” Goring hurried off toward the front of the
house.
Witherspoon looked at Constable Becker. “Get the lads
from the terrace and search the property.”
“Do you want me to get the ones you sent out to the
front gate?” Becker asked, looking at Barnes.
“No, leave them there for the time being,” the constable
replied. “We need someone to make sure the press doesn’t
get in and trample the place down before we’ve found any
evidence that might be useful.”
“Yes, sir,” Becker replied. “Er, uh, what are we looking
for, sir?”
“The murder weapon,” Barnes said dryly. “The man
didn’t cosh himself on the back of the head. But keep a
sharp eye out for anything else you find lying about on the
ground. Come get us if you find anything, anything at all.”
He turned to Inspector Witherspoon. “Shall I send someone
to the station to get the lads here for a house-to-house?”
Witherspoon looked around the area, noting the distance
between the houses. He wasn’t certain about what to do. In
London, the houses were so close together that people frequently heard or saw something useful. “Do you think anyone would have heard or saw something? I mean, the houses aren’t close, and I’m not certain that anyone was awake in
the middle of the night. That’s probably when the murder
happened.”
“It couldn’t hurt, sir,” Barnes said easily. “Sometimes
people have strange habits; there might have been someone
with a bout of sleeplessness or a case of indigestion up and
about. Besides, it’ll be good to have the locals doing their
fair share.”
28
Emily Brightwell
“Yes, of course, Constable, you’re absolutely right. I
don’t know what I was thinking.” He was a bit embarrassed
by his behavior. He mustn’t keep second-guessing himself,
of course there must be a house-to-house, that was standard
procedure.
Barnes nodded. “I’ll send one of the lads from around the
front. One good copper ought to be able to keep the press at
bay for fifteen minutes.”
Smythe knew he’d have to make a run for it. The copper
would be here any second, and the one thing they would be
looking for was strangers hanging about a murder scene.
They’d knick him for sure, and if the inspector saw him,
he’d be done for. There was no reason on God’s green earth
that he could give for following him to a murder scene.
“What are you doing?” The voice rang out loud and clear
from the direction of the house.
“I thought I saw something,” another voice replied. “I
thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye.”
“You didn’t see anything,” The first voice yelled. “And
we can’t be caught mucking about again. That old constable
that came with the inspector is heading this way, so get
back to your post.”
“All right, I’m coming. It was probably just a squirrel or
the wind or something.”
As he heard the footsteps retreating, Smythe slumped
against the tree trunk in relief. He knew he had to move.
He knelt down and peeked around the tree trunk. Both the
constables had their backs turned, their attention on the
house. Smythe ran out from behind the tree and ducked into
the front garden of the nearest house. He didn’t stop, but
kept on moving, hoping that no one was looking out a window. Smythe made it to the end of the property and dodged Mrs. Jeffries and the Silent Knight
29
behind a small shed. He leaned against the wood, his heart
racing like mad. Luckily, he’d put on his boots this morning, so at least the snow wasn’t getting in his shoes, but his trousers were soaked to the knees, and his nose was running.
Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, he blew his nose
and tried to decide how to get closer to the victim’s house.
Unfortunately, he was several houses away from the Braxton
home, and with police activity in the neighborhood, there
were sure to be eyes peeking out of windows today. But
Smythe wasn’t going to let that stop him. He’d figure out a
way. He always did.
He pushed away from the shed, looked around to make
sure no one was about and then dashed toward the next
property. There was a grouping of evergreen trees at the end
of that garden, and if he could make it to them without being seen, they’d provide a bit of cover. If he was fast and lucky, he could make his way to the murder house from
back here. There were a few fat tree trunks and garden sheds
about; he’d just have to make sure he didn’t get caught.
Witherspoon sighed and then looked toward the house. Behind him, the body was being loaded onto a stretcher and covered for transport to the morgue.
