The Witching Pool: A Justice Belstrang Mystery (Justice Belstrang Mysteries Book 2) by John Pilkington (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📗

‘But it’s absurd… utter nonsense,’ I exclaimed. ‘Even if such things were possible, how could she bewitch the youth from a prison cell? And for what motive?’

‘Logic is often cast aside, when fear and superstition run unchecked,’ my friend said. ‘But still…’ he grew thoughtful. ‘I do wonder who would go to the trouble of writing that paper, and fixing it where half the city would see it.’

I looked sharply at him. ‘Then, you’ll agree there may be rounds for further investigation?’

‘Perhaps,’ Boyd replied. ‘There often are, are there not?’

‘Well then…’ I drew a breath: a resolve was forming, one that would perhaps help me to move matters forward. ‘Supposing I were to go to Standish, who will no doubt preside at the inquest? I could say I had an interest in the case, without specifying what. Hence I could observe the proceedings, as you did before. Standish knows he can’t pull the wool over my eyes, as a former Justice…’ then as a new thought occurred: ‘And more, as a respected physician, you could offer to examine the body.’

‘Are you serious?’ Boyd was frowning. ‘Suppose he, or someone else, refuses? I can hardly insist.’

‘You might,’ I told him. ‘You could say you’re writing a report about what you observed at the inquest of Susanna Cobbett - one you mean to send to the proper authorities. Standish is most touchy on the matter. If he thought someone were to accuse him of malpractice…’

‘Robert, enough!’ Boyd wore his exasperated look. ‘Your feelings run away with you. Though I’ve said I will help you in this business, you know my powers are limited-’

‘What about gathering evidence?’ I said, cutting him short. ‘That’s all I desire. I told Standish I might have something new, but I didn’t tell him what. It nettled the man… he’s not invulnerable. Between us, I believe we have reasons enough to insist on your viewing the corpse. If he objects, I might throw in a few veiled threats. So - in view of your professed interest in matters of supposed self-murder, what do you say?’

Having made my case, I waited. I was asking a lot, perhaps, but I knew Boyd. At last, he let out a sigh and nodded.

‘If you can arrange it, then I will do it,’ he said. ‘But if I’m satisfied the youth died by drowning, that’s the end of the matter – and of your case. If indeed, you have a case?’

It was a question to which I had no answer. But on a sudden, I knew what to do next: I would go again to Newland Wood and try to find Ned Berritt.

I wanted to hear what he knew, before the news became widely known.

***

In the early afternoon I left the city once again and rode downriver to Powick. After crossing the Teme I followed the lane towards Humphreys’ farm, before turning aside and walking Leucippus along the grassy track. The route was becoming familiar, I thought; but recalling my previous meeting with Berritt, it dawned on me that I might not find him, which meant a wasted journey. I had no wish to ride on to the Masons’ cottage, having nothing of comfort to tell them; after what had now occurred, their fears would only worsen. Hence, my hopes had dwindled somewhat by the time I dismounted at the treeline. I ventured into the wood once more and made my way towards the Witching Pool, now the scene of another tragedy. But very soon, I was checked.

There was a shout, and two men came striding through the trees towards me. One of them held a pistol. I stopped in my tracks, hand on sword, and drew a breath.

‘Who are you, and what’s your business here?’ The one with the firearm demanded.

‘I might ask the same of you,’ I replied, gathering my wits. ‘Whom do you serve?’

They halted, observing my station from my good clothes and my basket-hilt rapier. Seeing I was not a man to be browbeaten, the forerunner of the two lowered his pistol, blew the charge off and uncocked it. ‘I’m not obliged to answer questions, sir,’ he said. ‘We have orders to keep a watch – the wood is dangerous.’

‘Do you mean the pool is dangerous?’ I enquired. ‘I hardly think so.’

The two exchanged glances. By now I had looked them over and seen a pair of lackeys, unaccustomed to the role of guards. ‘I asked you who your master is,’ I went on, summoning my official voice. ‘This is the border of Cobbett’s land – is it him you serve?’

‘We’re not at liberty to say, sir,’ the second of the two answered. ‘But we are ordered not to let any man pass. There has been a death… the body was only removed this morning.’

I regarded him briefly, then turned my gaze upon the other.‘Has anyone spoken to the finder of the body?’ I asked him.

‘I know naught of that, sir.’ Nervously, the man fingered the butt of his pistol. ‘But I can tell you there’s no more to be done here.’

In spite of my resentment at being treated in this manner, I realised he was probably right. I would find nothing new – and Berritt, of course, would be nowhere near.

‘The corpse – do you know where it’s been taken?’ I asked.

‘To the church in Powick,’ the unarmed man answered. But at a look from his companion, he lowered his gaze.

‘Do you have an interest in the matter, sir?’ The man was eying me suspiciously. ‘I mean no insult, only-’

‘That’s as well,’ I broke in. ‘Or you may regret it. And like you, I’m not obliged to answer questions. Instead I’ll leave you to your duties, superfluous as they seem. I can’t imagine sightseers flocking to this spot just now, can you?’

I turned about and left them, retracing