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

breathlessly, ‘if you mean to implicate me in her death somehow, you are utterly mistaken. I was a friend to those girls – almost an uncle! I would never harm any of them…’

‘You’re lying, you vermin,’ I broke in, with a swift glance at Childers: it was time for a performance. ‘You used her like a whore, as you would have done her sisters. Chattels, to serve your twisted desires…’ Raising my voice, I took a step towards him and put a hand to my sword.

‘In truth,’ I snapped, ‘I’ve a mind to end your miserable life here and now. Tell Standish you tried to escape, and attacked me - what could I do but defend myself? I have a witness to speak for me… have I not?’ I turned to Childers, who nodded at once.

‘You have, sir,’ he said. ‘But I urge you to master your feelings and let the law take its course. This man faces the gallows already, so-’

‘Yes, yes,’ I answered testily, making a show of reining in my anger. ‘But then again…’ I fixed Humphreys with my hardest expression. ‘I’d sorely like to deal him a few cuts for good measure. We can say he put up a struggle.’

‘God in heaven…’ Eying each of us in turn, Humphreys almost swayed on his feet. ‘Have mercy, I beg you!’

‘You do what?’ With a quick movement, I put hand to belt and drew my poniard. It had barely left the scabbard in years, and would likely cut naught but cheese, though Humphreys could not know that. When I held it up, his mouth fell open in terror.

‘Have mercy, did you say?’ I lunged forward, put the poniard to the man’s neck and held it there until he quaked. Childers, meanwhile, appeared to forget that I was acting and hurried to seize my arm.

‘Master Justice, stay yourself!’ He shouted.

I ignored him. ‘You dare to ask for mercy?’ I snapped at Humphreys. ‘How often did Susanna do so? How many times did she beg to be spared your depravity, yours and her father’s? And that night, when she dared to stand up to him in her anguish - when she knew she was carrying his child - you were there, weren’t you? Did you silence her, or did Cobbett? Answer me, or I’ll-’

‘He strangled her!’

Humphreys’ cracked voice, filled with fear, rang out in the wood, startling both my steward and I. It startled a few birds too, sending them scattering from the treetops. Lowering the poniard, I drew back, even as Childers let go of me. The pair of us gazed at the man, who had just given me the confession I needed, though I was stunned by its substance. We could only watch as, all resistance spent, he suddenly fell to his knees and began to weep.

‘She fought him,’ he sobbed. ‘Until he lost all restraint… it was done in a rage. I could never have committed such an act… whatever else I did…’

He broke off and gave way to tears, while all I could do was turn away, drawing long breaths. I too was sweating, I realised, droplets running from my brow. Absently, I sheathed the poniard and looked at Childers, who was aghast.

‘His daughter?’ He murmured, meeting my gaze. ‘Cobbett slew his own child?’

I made no answer. After a while I turned to regard Humphreys: as abject a figure as I ever saw, crouching like one facing execution - which in time, he would.

‘So,’ I managed at last, ‘the girl was already dead when she left Ebbfield - but you helped take her body away.’

He barely nodded, his face to the ground.

‘You took her to Tait’s Crossing, where the ferryman waited,’ I continued, looking down at him.

‘No - Cobbett roused Tait, and told him we needed his boat.’

Humphreys turned his head towards me, speaking hoarsely. ‘She was wrapped in a bundle, tied across a horse… I stayed back while Cobbett struck his bargain. The ferryman left us to make the crossing… he didn’t see her body.’

That, at least, came to me as a relief. Tait was a villainous old goat, I thought, but he was not an accomplice to Susanna’s murder – unlike the man kneeling before me. In no uncertain terms, I spelled it out for him: just another crime to add to the charges. His response was only silence.

‘Well now…’ drawing a long breath, I took a step towards him. ‘I do believe you’ve told me all you need, for now. You and Cobbett took his daughter’s body across the river, brought her here and did your best to make it look as if she’d drowned herself. And since no-one examined the body, nothing could be said about strangulation. Your landlord has been most thorough in covering his tracks, has he not?’

‘Meanwhile,’ I continued, ‘a culprit had to be found - a scapegoat, whom Cobbett wished to be rid of. Save that it’s more difficult to blame Agnes Mason for the death of Rhys, since she was already imprisoned. Yet the youth had to be removed – and you still swear you were not involved in that?’

‘By the Christ, I do!’

His face red and puffy, Humphreys looked round suddenly. ‘I never went near him! Damn you, I’ve confessed to taking Berritt’s life - what would it avail me to deny another killing? The result will be the same, will it not?’

Once again, he slumped and turned away; but he was right, and I had no cause to disbelieve him. Pondering the matter, I knew that Cobbett still had the most compelling motive to do away with Howell Rhys – but that would have to wait.

‘I think we’re done here, sir, are we not?’

Childers was eying me, his distaste for the whole business evident. Seeing his eagerness to be gone, I could only agree. I was on