The Dalwich Desecration (18 page)

CHAPTER 18

I
n spite of the havoc he had caused, not to mention the grievous injuries to Constable Brendle and Mr. Masri, Graham Whitsett was proving to be a man of integrity and substance. Whether or not he would be allowed to continue to assist the constabulary in the future would be for a magistrate to decide, but his conscience was clearly a driving force in his life. Not only had he agreed to deliver Colin and me to Whitmore Abbey, but he had not so much as grimaced when Colin requested a detour to the telegraph office. The first missive Colin sent off was to Father Demetris to notify him that we were taking him up on his offer of staying at the monastery, though Colin certainly did not elucidate on the reason for our change of heart. The second communication went out to Maurice Evans of Scotland Yard advising him of our change of venue, though it seemed more an excuse for Colin to harangue the poor acting inspector for what he called the “glacial pace” at which the Yard was moving with regard to the whereabouts of Mrs. Hutton. And in spite of the fact that he still had not heard anything back from his father about the Swiss authorities, I noticed that Colin sent no further needling to him.

“Your constable will be out and about again in no time.” Colin was reassuring Mr. Whitsett as we jostled along the rutted, dirt path that led to the monastery. In spite of his towering height, the man behaved with a gentleness that belied his stature. It was his marked slimness and the manner in which he persisted in slouching that kept him from being perceived as daunting at first glance, although that impression would be undone the moment he began to speak anyway.

“I appreciate your kind words,” he answered in that shy, hesitant way of his. “It is truly a miracle that worse did not happen. I should never have lived with myself . . .” he said before falling silent.

“You mustn't imagine any such thing,” I encouraged despite the fact that it had to be nearly impossible not to. “It was all an accident done with the greatest of intentions.”

“Yes, of course,” he muttered, though he did not seem particularly assuaged by my assertion as he artfully brought the carriage around at the front of the monastery. “Do you need me to wait for you?” he asked, but I could tell he was anxious to get back to the constable.

This time it was Colin's turn to look pained, which I would have found amusing if he had not begun to tug our trunk off the back of the carriage. It was a sobering sight as the reality of what it meant nestled into my stomach. “That won't be necessary as we shall be staying here now,” Colin answered. “But perhaps you will be kind enough to offer us another ride back the next time we're in Dalwich? Might we say tomorrow?”

“You can count on me. You know where I shall be.” Mr. Whitsett managed a discomfited sort of smile.

I grabbed the valises from the seat next to me and hopped out of the carriage, intending to make an offer of remuneration for the man's time, when I was interrupted by the sound of Brother Morrison's deep, sonorous voice coming from behind me. “What's this . . . ?” he called out from the main doorway as Colin dragged our trunk toward him. “What have you got there?”

“Our belongings,” Colin informed him in a tone that was arguably a touch less affable than it could have been. “We are accepting Father Demetris's offer to stay here. It will allow Mr. Pruitt and me a better opportunity to get this case resolved with all due haste so we can leave you gentlemen to your peace, which, understandably, is what you wish.”

“I'll not deny it,” the elderly monk sniffed, stepping back from the door even as he held it open for us.

I waved Mr. Whitsett off and followed Brother Morrison and Colin into the monastery's entrance hall, toting our valises. As always, the monastery was eerily quiet the moment I stepped inside, and I lamented yet again the fact that our own recklessness had caused us to end up here. Had we learned nothing from Oscar Wilde's recent sentence of two years hard labor? One flouted the laws of morality at one's own risk. It was a disheartening fact to be thusly judged, but in spite of myself, I felt ashamed.

“Leave your things there.” Brother Morrison gestured to a space by the main doors as he headed for Abbot Tufton's former office, favoring his right leg as always. “I'll have Brother Hollings move them to a couple of cells in the newer quarter. They may not be of the standard you are accustomed to, but they have cots with mattresses on them, which is far more than I can say for the majority of our rooms.”

“You needn't worry about us,” Colin answered simply. “I expect our work here to be completed before we so much as require a change of linens.”

Brother Morrison lowered himself into the throne-like chair behind the elaborate desk and eyed Colin warily with a marked absence of warmth. “If you should require a change of linens, you shall have to do so yourself. This is not a public house.”

“So we have seen.”

“There are three toilets in a small outer building near the infirmary, and should you wish to wash yourselves you may do so in the balneary at the far end of the dormitory. I will see that you are given one towel each, but you'll not get another.”

“Of course.” Colin's nose wrinkled slightly, though he managed to keep his evident distaste to a minimum.

“We appreciate your hospitality,” I hastened to add. “I know all of the brothers here are anxious to see this terrible crime resolved and the killer brought to justice.”

Brother Morrison turned his gaze on me and I found it unsettling, almost accusatory. “The only justice that matters to me and the men who live here is God's justice. And that will be wrought for all eternity no matter what the two of you do.” He leaned back in the huge chair. “
Never avenge yourselves,
” he recited slowly, “
but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, sayeth the Lord
.' ”

“The book of Romans,” Colin said.

Brother Morrison's face shifted with something akin to disbelief. “Well done, sir. And just how is it you plan on spending your time here? The brothers and I keep a strict schedule and the church teaches it is imperative that we maintain it. We are here at the service of the Lord, not the whims of others. I know Abbot Tufton would agree with me were he with us now.”

One of Colin's eyebrows drifted skyward and for a moment I feared what he might be about to say since the monk's words sounded disingenuous given that his abbot
wasn't
here to agree. “Your concern is understood,” Colin replied with the flick of a tight smile. “As I assured Father Demetris when he first delivered us here, our intent is not to cause disruption, but to allay it. So, at the moment, what I would like most of all is to inspect your abbot's cell once again and to speak with Brother Silsbury.”

Brother Morrison furrowed his brow, making his imperious demeanor seem ever more so. “If I could excise that cell, I would do so. It is like a malignancy that infects everything around it. No one is likely to ever consent to stay there again, and at times I'm quite certain the brothers only pass by it from the far side of the hallway.”

“Then you will be pleased to know that we can help with that,” Colin announced pointedly, shifting a quick look in my direction that unnerved me when I noticed a dark sort of determination behind his gaze. “Mr. Pruitt will stay in that very cell,” he said. “He will easily be able to dispel the anxiety around it within a night or two. And I suspect it should prove useful to our investigation as well. So I believe we will all gain.”

“Is that so . . . ?” The elderly monk turned to me with a look as filled with skepticism as it was surprise.

For myself, it felt as though my heart had leapt into my throat and begun careening out of control like a star shooting across the night sky.
Me?!
I was aghast. Wherever had this idea come from?
His
idea . . .
his
scheme. So why was
I
the one who had to do the penance? “Of course,” I heard myself answer benignly.

“Very well. Then I shall have Brother Hollings and Brother Nathan remove the furnishings and set up a more proper bed.”

“You mustn't,” Colin said at once. “That defeats the entire purpose. Leave it as it is. If you start moving items in and out you will only play into the uneasiness surrounding that cell. You absolutely must leave it be, Brother Morrison. I'm afraid Mr. Pruitt insists.”

News of my determination to reside in that murderous place without the slightest modification was no less stunning to me than it obviously was to Brother Morrison. He turned to me again, his broad, heavily lined face and dubious gaze searching for an answer I'm certain he believed I was not willing to give. “Indeed,” I muttered with as much insistence as I could muster. I was beginning to suspect what Colin was up to, though it hardly made me more appreciative of the fact of the matter: that I would be staying in the room, more accurately sleeping in the very bed, where a man was murdered.

“There you have it,” Colin nodded with an abundance of self-satisfaction.

Brother Morrison seemed to carefully consider the whole of the idea before finally concurring with the faintest dip of his head. “Then I presume we can forego a visit there now?” he asked after a moment.

“Without question.” Colin allowed a thin smile to breeze across his lips. “Has anyone else been in the abbot's cell since we saw it last Thursday?”

“Of course not,” Brother Morrison answered impatiently, his brow collapsing down on itself yet again. “Have I not made myself clear? The brothers go to great lengths to keep their distance. And besides which, it has been kept locked since the morning of the murder and I have the only key.”

“Very well.” Colin stood up and nodded to me. “Then we shall be off to speak with Brother Silsbury. I assume he is most likely to be found in the infirmary?”

Brother Morrison stared at us, not moving from the chair. “It is a safe supposition. But I will remind you once again to be respectful of the schedules the brothers keep.”

“You have my word,” Colin said without a moment's pause.

Even so, as I pulled the door closed behind us I was certain I caught a good deal of doubt on the aged monk's face. Had I not been otherwise preoccupied, I would have pointed it out to Colin, urged him to be more patient and sympathetic of these pious men, but I did indeed have far more personal concerns on the top of my mind. So instead, as soon as the door settled itself back in its jamb I spun on Colin, and fairly hissed, “
What the bloody hell?!
” I could not stop myself, or more honestly, I did not
care
to stop myself.

“What?” he looked at me without a wisp of guile.

“Why am
I
the one who has to stay in that godforsaken cell? If you're so anxious to inspect it again, then
you
stay there.” The clicking of our heels echoed loudly along the empty corridor as we made our way toward the back door, reminding me that I needed to keep my voice down or risk being easily overheard. “I cannot
believe
you would volunteer me for such a ghoulish duty. Am I truly just your footman? Here to do your bidding whenever something unpleasant comes along?”

He reared back and stared at me as though I had just accused him of committing these murders himself. “Is that what you think?!” He turned stiffly and started walking again, pushing his way out the door and onto the gravel path that led to the infirmary beyond. “There will be great attention paid to the abbot's cell when you retire tonight. Your comings and goings will almost certainly be noted with every squeak of your door and every step that you take. I need to be able to move about freely the next couple of nights. I cannot be stymied in my movements or it will take me very much longer to solve this case. So while they are concentrated on you, all aflutter over your daring and pluck for sitting in that cell, I shall be pawing through their library, and the abbot's former office, and anywhere else I feel the need to invade.” He stopped just outside the infirmary door and glared back at me. “Or would you like to reverse the roles and I will happily get some rest in that blasted cell—a
room,
mind you, nothing more than a
room
—while you go poking about this stifling place?”

His eyes were ablaze with a mixture of anger and offense even as I began to wonder how it was that I had gotten myself so far afield. “I . . .” My mind emptied itself quite completely, leaving me with my mouth agape and my face flooding with rising heat. “I shall inspect every inch of the cell and all of the furnishings thoroughly,” I managed after a second.

“Yes.” His tone was clipped. “If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I should like to see if you can pull any rubbings off the tabletop. Perhaps we will yet discern what was on the papers that were pulled from his hand after his death.” He turned and yanked open the door, barreling inside, before I could summon an appropriately eager response. “
Hello!
” he called out as I followed him inside, my spirits flagging at my obtuseness. “Are you here, Brother Silsbury?”

“Who's there?” A voice echoed from somewhere off to our right, where I remembered the monk's office to be.

“It is Colin Pendragon and Ethan Pruitt.”

“Yes, yes.” The tall, broad-shouldered monk came bustling out of his small office with a stoic sort of reticence already marring his face. “Good day to you both.”

“I hope we're not interrupting your work . . .” Colin said, which was decidedly peculiar given that the infirmary was, as before, empty.