Read Online Death in the Valley of Shadows by Deryn Lake - Free Book Online Page A

a cup of tea to his lips without spilling a drop, “Mrs. Bussell was defiant, was she?”
    It was still only eight o’clock in the morning but already the Magistrate, John and Joe Jago were gathered round the great man’s breakfast table, eating the Apothecary’s favourite meal and discussing the murder of Aidan Fenchurch at the same time.
    “I believe you’ll have to call her in to Bow Street, Sir John. But I don’t think you’ll break her, mind. She denies having anything to do with the murder and she won’t be budged.”
    The Magistrate made an impatient sound. “That is farcical in view of the papers that the victim left behind him.”
    “But it could just be true,” John put in.
    “I wondered about his other woman,” ventured Joe. “Mrs. Tre … what was it?” He turned to the Apothecary.
    “Trewellan. She who wouldn’t marry him because of her ghastly son.”
    “It did occur to me,” Sir John’s clerk persisted, “that she might know something. Perhaps she and the victim had quarrelled recently. Perhaps she should be questioned.”
    “Yes, yes.” Sir John waved a hand. “But my money is firmly on the Bussell woman. She sounds marvellously deranged to me.”
    “She’s still in love with him. I’m sure of it,” the Apothecary answered.
    Joe chuckled. “Then she’s sure to have had him put down. There’s nothing like a woman slighted to be full to the eyes with vengeance.”
    “Hear, hear,” said the Magistrate. “I’ll send a Runner to request the pleasure of her company in the Public Office.”
    “She might have left London,” John pointed out. “Apparently she has a place in Surrey, some ten miles or so from Aidan Fenchurch’s own abode.”
    “Where? Do you know?”
    “Mrs. Rayner said West Clandon. A house called Merrow Place.”
    “And where did Fenchurch live?”
    “A village with the grand title of Stoke d’Abemon. He has apparently left his middle daughter that property, while the eldest inherits the London house.”
    “And the youngest?”
    “I don’t know. There’s a mystery about her. She’s travelling at the moment and is, apparently, still unaware of her father’s death. All I can tell you about the girl is that she is called Louisa and is the most beautiful of the three according to her sister.”
    “Um, an odd tale. Do you think she’s run away from home?” said Sir John thoughtfully.
    The Apothecary considered the idea. “Probably, yes.”
    “Another thread,” said Joe. “Had she fallen out with her father? Could it have been she who hired the killers?”
    “Jago, you are impossible,” answered the Magistrate, swallowing down his food rather noisily. “Just for once we are presented with a case in which the murdered man has actually written down the name of his killer. But does this satisfy you? No. You must run round after other ideas like a bloodhound with six simultaneous scents. We have our principal suspect and she is the guilty party, mark my words.”
    Joe stood his ground, despite his employer’s formidable reputation. “None the less, Sir John, would you object if I saw this Mrs. Trewellan and asked Mr. Rawlings to find out all he can about the disappearing daughter from the other ladies of the house?”
    “Of course I wouldn’t object,” answered the Blind Beak, somewhat angrily John thought. “If you wish to waste your time, my dear Jago, please feel at liberty to do so.”
    He was very truculent and, in a way, the Apothecary could see Sir John’s point of view. A man stalked by an unstable woman dies most violently, the apparent motive of robbery hardly credible. Papers which, in the event of his death, the victim asks to be delivered to Bow Street, appear to suggest a case that is open and shut but, for all that, the Magistrate’s clerk insists on pursuing loose ends. And yet, John thought, it was the Beak himself who had taught both him and Joe never to take anything at face value.
    He spoke up. “I think I would like to