Read Online The Twelfth Night Murder by Anne Rutherford - Free Book Online
Authors: Anne Rutherford
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tried to straighten it, but the corpse was still as stiff as when it had been found. He grunted, then tried an arm with the same results. He said, with utter certainty, “He’s not been dead more than half a day or so.”
Suzanne said, “I saw him alive yesterday evening.”
White looked at her as if just discovering she was in the room. “Do tell. You knew him?”
“I only saw him last night. It was before midnight, but he was stiff like this when he was found this morning.”
“Then certainly he was murdered near midnight or within one or two hours of it, which is what I said.” His voice carried an edge of insult, as if she’d questioned his expertise.
She opened her mouth to explain she’d only meant to affirm what he’d said, but thought better of saying anything more on it. Instead she said, “Was the dress torn before or after the stabbing?”
The coroner gazed at the dress front, and picked at it to assess the stains on it. He lifted and arranged the blue fabric and its lace, and laid it against the boy’s pale chest. “The stabbing came after the tearing, I think. There are knife marks in the dress, but none of them align with these wounds when the dress is put back together. See?” He lifted the torn bodice to show that the holes were not over the wounds. “The dress front was hanging over here instead.” He demonstrated how the fabric was dangling to the side, and the two holes matched perfectly with the one stab wound low in the chest. “The cloth was folded back onto itself, when this wound was made.”
Suzanne now imagined a struggle in which the dress was torn then a knife came into use. The sequence didn’t make much sense, so she knew she was missing something. She would have to think hard on it.
White took hold of the front of the dress and yanked to tear it off, but Suzanne held out a hand to stop him. “Wait. Can we keep this as whole as possible?”
The coroner gave her a puzzled look. She noted he was not generous with words, and answered his unasked question. “Not for me. It’s been years since I would be seen wearing a torn dress taken from a dead boy. However, you’re going to throw it away, aren’t you? It’s of no use to you. I’ve promised it to someone.”
“Ah.” He nodded, and began pulling the dress from the corpse without tearing it. The procedure took a bit longer, particularly with the joints still stiff, but when the garment was off Suzanne gathered it into a bundle and set it aside for the Weaver woman.
The boy, seen naked, seemed even younger than she’d thought at first. The male bits still attached were very small and entirely hairless. The chest was also hairless, but the most telling was that he had no hair under his arms. “Not yet at sexual maturity,” said White, as if musing to himself.
“Not ever,” murmured Suzanne.
The coroner picked up the tiny knob of flesh that had been in the child’s mouth, and peered closely at it. Then he set it next to the spot from whence it had come, making certain the thing belonged there. It fit. Then he looked at it again.
“Cut, not bitten. Sharp knife.”
Suzanne shuddered at the thought of biting such a thing entirely off. There had been times in her dark past when she’d wanted to do that to a client who had hurt or angered her, but she’d never done it and couldn’t imagine doing it to a boy this age. She said, “Can you tell whether he was already dead when it happened?”
The coroner threw her an appalled look, horrified she could think of such a thing. She said, “If I’m to reconstruct what happened in order to learn who did this, I must know everything that happened and in what order. Then I might know why it was done, which will give me a better chance at knowing who did it.”
White leaned over the body to peer at the wounded crotch and said, “He was dead. No stray cuts that would have been inevitable in a struggle.”
“Could he have been tied up?”
White looked the body
Suzanne said, “I saw him alive yesterday evening.”
White looked at her as if just discovering she was in the room. “Do tell. You knew him?”
“I only saw him last night. It was before midnight, but he was stiff like this when he was found this morning.”
“Then certainly he was murdered near midnight or within one or two hours of it, which is what I said.” His voice carried an edge of insult, as if she’d questioned his expertise.
She opened her mouth to explain she’d only meant to affirm what he’d said, but thought better of saying anything more on it. Instead she said, “Was the dress torn before or after the stabbing?”
The coroner gazed at the dress front, and picked at it to assess the stains on it. He lifted and arranged the blue fabric and its lace, and laid it against the boy’s pale chest. “The stabbing came after the tearing, I think. There are knife marks in the dress, but none of them align with these wounds when the dress is put back together. See?” He lifted the torn bodice to show that the holes were not over the wounds. “The dress front was hanging over here instead.” He demonstrated how the fabric was dangling to the side, and the two holes matched perfectly with the one stab wound low in the chest. “The cloth was folded back onto itself, when this wound was made.”
Suzanne now imagined a struggle in which the dress was torn then a knife came into use. The sequence didn’t make much sense, so she knew she was missing something. She would have to think hard on it.
White took hold of the front of the dress and yanked to tear it off, but Suzanne held out a hand to stop him. “Wait. Can we keep this as whole as possible?”
The coroner gave her a puzzled look. She noted he was not generous with words, and answered his unasked question. “Not for me. It’s been years since I would be seen wearing a torn dress taken from a dead boy. However, you’re going to throw it away, aren’t you? It’s of no use to you. I’ve promised it to someone.”
“Ah.” He nodded, and began pulling the dress from the corpse without tearing it. The procedure took a bit longer, particularly with the joints still stiff, but when the garment was off Suzanne gathered it into a bundle and set it aside for the Weaver woman.
The boy, seen naked, seemed even younger than she’d thought at first. The male bits still attached were very small and entirely hairless. The chest was also hairless, but the most telling was that he had no hair under his arms. “Not yet at sexual maturity,” said White, as if musing to himself.
“Not ever,” murmured Suzanne.
The coroner picked up the tiny knob of flesh that had been in the child’s mouth, and peered closely at it. Then he set it next to the spot from whence it had come, making certain the thing belonged there. It fit. Then he looked at it again.
“Cut, not bitten. Sharp knife.”
Suzanne shuddered at the thought of biting such a thing entirely off. There had been times in her dark past when she’d wanted to do that to a client who had hurt or angered her, but she’d never done it and couldn’t imagine doing it to a boy this age. She said, “Can you tell whether he was already dead when it happened?”
The coroner threw her an appalled look, horrified she could think of such a thing. She said, “If I’m to reconstruct what happened in order to learn who did this, I must know everything that happened and in what order. Then I might know why it was done, which will give me a better chance at knowing who did it.”
White leaned over the body to peer at the wounded crotch and said, “He was dead. No stray cuts that would have been inevitable in a struggle.”
“Could he have been tied up?”
White looked the body
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