‘Someone’s been hiding up here,’ John declared solemnly, sensing Jane’s presence beside him where he stood before piles of old furniture, between which was concealed a bedroll, and recent remnants of food. ‘Not long, and I suspect they’ve found other places to hide during the day. But who, why… We could stay here tonight, flush them out.’
‘We can’t,’ Jane said gravely, and he turned to find her a spectre in the windowless space, illuminated by his lone candle. ‘Mrs Gregor came round, saying we should be ready. If the water continues to recede steadily, by this evening, the main road will be clear.’
Sighing, John slumped onto an old trunk. He set the candle on the floor carefully, and Jane settled beside him.
Taking her hand, cradling it between his own, he let her touch comfort him as he untangled all they knew.
Not much, but surely enough to solve this. To save Fred.
‘I’ve never solved a murder so quickly,’ he admitted.
‘But you have solved many.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you’re not alone.’ Very true. ‘So, what do we know?’
‘Willcombe was last to retire,’ John began, picturing the events. ‘All other guests slept with partners, or servants close enough to hear should they leave their rooms. Only Fred and Dr Merrow have no such alibi. Motive…plenty. Bad deals, old grudges, Willcombe’s jilted mistress, money. Merrow had the skill, and opportunity, but no motive beyond Willcombe blaming him for his wife’s death…’ A shadow crossed Jane’s face, and he filed it away, but continued. ‘Hanson had a previously undisclosed friendship with Willcombe, and an identical trunk. The servants… We found nothing, and no hints of any grudges against their employer. We have your ghost, and your own attempted poisoning. We have an unknown person hiding here, who might’ve come…whenever. We have a carefully planned murder, which required inside knowledge, but no clues as to how that was acquired. Allegedly poison is a woman’s game, but I’ve seen too many cases to dissuade us from focusing solely on the female contingent. We have nothing.’
John fell silent, defeat overwhelming.
He glanced over to find Jane’s brow furrowed, eyes dancing across the floorboards, as her mind worked furiously. Looking at her… It didn’t feel like they had nothing.
That he had nothing.
A mighty consolation, but for Fred’s life being forfeit.
‘A woman’s game… A ghost changed by time… We need to speak to Mrs Gregor,’ she said finally, turning to him, hope, and resolve in her gaze, which made his heart skip several beats. ‘I’ve an idea.’
I think you’ve more than an idea, Miss Powell.
Log in or create an account to read the next chapter of "An All Hallows’ Eve Mystery"
Every month we select a new title from one of our authors so that you can discover new stories, locations and genres for free.