Read Online 02 Murder at the Mansion by Alison Golden, Jamie Vougeot - Free Book Online
Authors: Alison Golden, Jamie Vougeot
Ads: Link
becoming rather too familiar for her own taste.
As she got out of the Mini and began making her way around the house, Annabelle mulled over the idea that she had refrained from telling the Inspector. Archery was a popular pastime in and around the village. As a predominantly male-dominated pursuit, archery skills were often passed down from father to son, a popular excuse for some male bonding between generations as much as between old friends. It was unlikely that somewhere along the line, the community of close-knit archers had suddenly embraced the crossbow – a much more brutal and ugly weapon, which required none of the finesse or skill of the traditional bow.
It was entirely possible, of course, that someone in the village had taken up the more effective, machine-like crossbow, but Annabelle had never come across it. She had visited almost all of the homes in the village, seen many a proud huntsman display his fine weapons in pride of place on a mantel or wall frame, and observed the camouflage-clad hunters rambunctiously set off for a day of hunting bearing their weapons across their backs. Not once had she seen one of them use, own, or even mention a crossbow, however. The conclusion she came to was an unnerving one; the murderer must have come from outside the village.
As she turned a corner and found herself behind the house, in the area that the murderer must have been near or nearabouts, Annabelle looked back toward the house and was struck by yet another revelation. The murderer may not have planned it! Annabelle noticed that all the windows, including the one at which Sir John was meditating when he was killed, were now closed. The windows presented an obvious obstacle to a successful murder attempt. No matter how thunderous a shot from a crossbow, the trajectory, as well as the power, would have been too unpredictable for the murderer to have shot through a closed window. That meant that the murderer needed the window to be openin order to carry out the killing .
While it was possible that the murderer knew of Sir John Cartwright’s penchant for meditating in front of open windows, a slightly chilly day, or the type of brief rains England was known for would have caused him to close the window and set the murderer’s plans askew. Perhaps the murderer had visited the site day after day, in anticipation of the perfect circumstances – Sir John’s eyes-closed meditation, an open window, and no onlookers. But Annabelle found the scenario of forethought and planning unlikely, given that Sir John had only resided in Woodlands Manor for barely over a week.
It wasn’t concrete, but Annabelle felt like she was beginning to find the slimmest of threads to follow. She had been reluctant to tell the Inspector her idea for it was merely a belief. As a vicar, however, she knew how powerful belief could be. Annabelle turned her attention to the unkempt ground where the dense woods met the manicured lawns at the rear of the house. She stepped carefully forward, intently searching every peculiar stone and suspicious mound for something tangible. After searching for a whole hour and feeling the oncoming chill of evening, Annabelle turned back toward the front of the house. Despite the fruitlessness of her search, she left resolved to come back, a stirring hope that with enough effort she would find the key to this puzzle.
Over the next few days, Annabelle returned to the large manor house several times. She came equipped with a set of binoculars and a moleskin notepad in which she scribbled everything of note. Before her second “expedition,” she called Harper Jones and quizzed the talented pathologist for everything she knew. After the briefest of explanations, Harper was surprisingly forthcoming with enough details to fill an entire page of Annabelle’s notebook. They were all technical and complicated, however. Math had been a favorite subject of Annabelle’s, but even she struggled to understand more than
As she got out of the Mini and began making her way around the house, Annabelle mulled over the idea that she had refrained from telling the Inspector. Archery was a popular pastime in and around the village. As a predominantly male-dominated pursuit, archery skills were often passed down from father to son, a popular excuse for some male bonding between generations as much as between old friends. It was unlikely that somewhere along the line, the community of close-knit archers had suddenly embraced the crossbow – a much more brutal and ugly weapon, which required none of the finesse or skill of the traditional bow.
It was entirely possible, of course, that someone in the village had taken up the more effective, machine-like crossbow, but Annabelle had never come across it. She had visited almost all of the homes in the village, seen many a proud huntsman display his fine weapons in pride of place on a mantel or wall frame, and observed the camouflage-clad hunters rambunctiously set off for a day of hunting bearing their weapons across their backs. Not once had she seen one of them use, own, or even mention a crossbow, however. The conclusion she came to was an unnerving one; the murderer must have come from outside the village.
As she turned a corner and found herself behind the house, in the area that the murderer must have been near or nearabouts, Annabelle looked back toward the house and was struck by yet another revelation. The murderer may not have planned it! Annabelle noticed that all the windows, including the one at which Sir John was meditating when he was killed, were now closed. The windows presented an obvious obstacle to a successful murder attempt. No matter how thunderous a shot from a crossbow, the trajectory, as well as the power, would have been too unpredictable for the murderer to have shot through a closed window. That meant that the murderer needed the window to be openin order to carry out the killing .
While it was possible that the murderer knew of Sir John Cartwright’s penchant for meditating in front of open windows, a slightly chilly day, or the type of brief rains England was known for would have caused him to close the window and set the murderer’s plans askew. Perhaps the murderer had visited the site day after day, in anticipation of the perfect circumstances – Sir John’s eyes-closed meditation, an open window, and no onlookers. But Annabelle found the scenario of forethought and planning unlikely, given that Sir John had only resided in Woodlands Manor for barely over a week.
It wasn’t concrete, but Annabelle felt like she was beginning to find the slimmest of threads to follow. She had been reluctant to tell the Inspector her idea for it was merely a belief. As a vicar, however, she knew how powerful belief could be. Annabelle turned her attention to the unkempt ground where the dense woods met the manicured lawns at the rear of the house. She stepped carefully forward, intently searching every peculiar stone and suspicious mound for something tangible. After searching for a whole hour and feeling the oncoming chill of evening, Annabelle turned back toward the front of the house. Despite the fruitlessness of her search, she left resolved to come back, a stirring hope that with enough effort she would find the key to this puzzle.
Over the next few days, Annabelle returned to the large manor house several times. She came equipped with a set of binoculars and a moleskin notepad in which she scribbled everything of note. Before her second “expedition,” she called Harper Jones and quizzed the talented pathologist for everything she knew. After the briefest of explanations, Harper was surprisingly forthcoming with enough details to fill an entire page of Annabelle’s notebook. They were all technical and complicated, however. Math had been a favorite subject of Annabelle’s, but even she struggled to understand more than
Similar Books
