Read Online An Inquiry Into Love and Death by Simone St. James - Free Book Online Page B

of the hunt, is used to being more hopeful than vicious.
    “Poseidon!” came the man’s voice from behind the slobbering head. “Down, boy! Down!”
    I approached the back gate, and at once the dog’s head and paws disappeared. I nudged the gate open to find a great black nose pressed optimistically in the gap, hopeful of pursuing its quarry through the garden and into my kitchen.
    “Oh, no, you don’t.” The nose pulled back, and I leaned out to see that the dog was leashed, and its owner—the man whose voice I heard—had finally gotten it under control.
    The dog’s owner was slender, not overly tall, and not above thirty. He wore a peaked cap, the brim of which he touched in greeting; under it I could see dark brown hair. He had a narrow face, unremarkable though not unhandsome, and his gray eyes regarded me with amusement. He wore a plain jacket and trousers, and had obviously been walking his dog along the trail that skirted the woods.
    “I’m sorry to disturb you, miss.” His accent said he’d had some education. “I lost hold of Poseidon’s lead for a moment. He doesn’t bite; I promise.”
    I looked doubtfully down at the dog, which was sitting next to its master, its head higher than the man’s waist. “Poseidon?”
    The man gave a rueful smile. “A dignified name for such a ridiculous specimen, I know. I’m afraid I had high hopes when I named him.” He took a step forward and held out his hand. “William Moorcock.”
    I shook his hand, thinking the name sounded familiar. Rachel Moorcock had mentioned it, though I hadn’t missed her intonation.
He fancies himself an expert
, she had said. “Jillian Leigh. I’m very glad to have run into you, in fact.”
    “Oh? And why is that?”
    “I had heard—that is, someone mentioned that you may have met my uncle. Toby Leigh.”
    “I did. I’m terribly sorry about what happened to him. Are you all right?”
    The question was a little touching in its directness. “Yes, I think so. Thank you.”
    “It’s awful; it truly is. I live just down the road a way—the one with the sloped roof, just at the fork of the road toward town. You likely passed me on your way in. Did your uncle mention me?”
    I paused, embarrassed. “We weren’t close, I’m afraid. I’m just here cleaning up his things. Did he perhaps tell you what he was working on—why exactly he was in Rothewell?”
    “Ah.” William Moorcock petted his dog’s head and smiled. “You’re asking whether he confided in me about being a ghost hunter.”
    I was embarrassed again, but relieved as well. “It must seem eccentric.”
    “In some places, perhaps. Not here.” He looked at me for a moment and smiled again. “Let me guess—you’ve never been to Rothewell before, and you’re not quite sure what to make of this place.” He shook his head as I tried to speak. “You needn’t explain. Since it seems I’ve unintentionally saddled you with a cat, I’ll tell you what I can. Poseidon needs to stretch his legs. Can we walk?”
    “Yes, of course.” I shut the kitchen door, then the gate. “Lead the way.”
    “Your uncle was rather fascinating,” said William as we took the path to the woods. “He came to my door, wanting to know about our local ghosts. I’m always happy to oblige. Though I thought Toby was particularly troubled, myself. Do you know whether he was ever a subject of psychotherapy?”
    “Er—no, I don’t know, I’m afraid.”
    “Well, that’s too bad. I read a book about psychotherapy last week, and it made me think your uncle would have been a crack subject.” He saw my surprise, and his shoulders sagged a little. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean these things as I say them. My sister tells me I’m terrible for saying just the wrong thing. I don’t mean to put you off.”
    “No—no, it’s quite all right.” We were taking the path through the trees now, the shade dappling and growing thicker. “It’s just that I really wasn’t very close to