The Churchill Casebook of Curiosities
Chapter Two: Finding Most Foul
Lady Abernathy’s hacklesThe Diary of Ms. Gideon Harrow
Matters have taken a turn for the worse.
If the murder of Madam Perceptica was bad, the death of Mrs Innocenti is somehow far worse. Madam Perceptica dabbled in the dark arts, where Mrs Innocenti was ‘merely’ a cook. It is with sadness and no small amount of trepidation that I capture the sequence of events as best I recall.
Daphne, weary of waiting for the return of Silas and Mr Harengus, took it upon himself to confront both Jessica and Lady Abernathy. I listened from the hall as he accused both of withholding information, particularly regarding Jessica’s sister Natalie.
As he was Daphne’s wont, his language was too often crude and I found myself scolding him once more. And from what I could tell he managed nothing more than raising Lady Abernathy’s hackles and sending Jessica running from the room in tears.
As luck (or good planning) would have it I was in the hall to meet Jessica in my arms.
As I led her away I could hear Daphne still pressing Lady Abernathy, and I will admit he did seem to be making some headway now Jessica was protected from hearing. His line of questioning revolved around the nature of Natalie’s death, but I was unable to hear any detail.
I resolved to continue the same line once Jessica and I were alone.
I escorted her upstairs, sobbing, passing Mr Blackwood who was roaming the upper story—he seemed a strange man whose motivations I had not yet managed to understand.
Jessica led me to her well-appointed room which would have a pleasant view over the conservatory were it not for the incessant rain. She rested on her bed as I covered her with a handsome throw, her hands cold in mine as I comforted her. Eventually her torrent of tears subsided.
She thanked me for accompanying her and I started gently probing. I asked why she thought her sister had chosen to communicate from the beyond. She was quickly in tears again, but I was surprised to find she was also mentally sharp, asking how I knew Natalie was her sister. I replied that it was intuition, given the fondness Jessica so clearly shown, and she asked if I too had ‘the sight’.
I admit I was surprised—it was almost as though she was probing me, rather than the reverse. I appealed again to her memories and emotional tie, and soon she was telling me of the circumstances of Natalie’s death.
By Jessica’s account, the twins were at a picnic at Cheddar Gorge, accompanied by Lady Abernathy’s son Peter ‘Peabody’ Abernathy. This much I had already deduced, but the surprise was there were two other’s present: Mr Connor ‘Conny’ Greystoke and Miss Beatrice ‘Betty’ Bainbridge (what is it with the aristocratic young people and their unimaginative habit of shortening names?)
I was not familiar with either of these two guests, though I did have an inkling that Daphne must be familiar with Connor at the least, given his association with Peabody.
I asked about the moment of Natalie’s death and, after a deep breath, Jessica described the scene. As the company sat admiring the view out over the gorge, Natalie simply stood up and walked six steps away to the edge of the outcrop. With nary a pause she then stepped off and fell to her death, to the shock and horror of her companions.
(I will note here that my entry from yesterday was incorrect—I had recalled Natalie crying that she was ‘pushed’, but by Jessica’s account the fall was entirely in Natalie’s control.)
More questioning revealed that Natalie showed no sign of vapours or depression, and had confided no difficulties in her relations with Peabody to Jessica. The picnic was a jolly affair of daisy-chains and eggs, and there was no apparent sign of dissatisfaction nor arguments among those present.
Natalie had seemingly simply decided to walk herself out of this life by stepping into the open air of Cheddar Gorge.
At this juncture I heard movement outside, and the voice of Silas. I excused myself to Jessica, hoping she would fall into a restful slumber, and slipped out of the room.
Silas was sodden (as was Rufus the butler) so he quickly appraised me of what he had found in the boathouse. As suspected, Mr Black was none-the-wiser as to what had happened, seeing no-one in the darkness and still breathing himself.
I asked about sending for the constabulary, and Silas confirmed that this was in motion. Much as I had been impatient with Inspector Clement this morning, I was pleased as I felt a similar authority would bring some focus and resolution to this sordid affair.
One piece of bad news was that the rising tide of the Thames, combined with the torrential rain, had meant the lone ferry had been torn from it’s mooring and was now gone. This seemed a highly unlikely turn of events given the ferry should have been moored as I left it, secure in the boathouse. But Silas assured me there was no evidence of foul play, and that the tether securing the boat appeared snapped rather than sheared by a blade.
All of which meant we were now trapped here, either with the murderer or without. As events unfolded we discovered, much to our dismay, that it was the former.
The evening slowed down at this point, conversation dwindling as everyone reflected on the séance and Madam Perceptica’s death. People drifted away to their reveries, and the staff to their chores, Mrs Innocenti plodding downstairs to prepare a much needed meal.
I was soon feeling impatient again (the remnants of my pep I suppose) and realised I had not seen Simon d’Chartreuse for some time. I decided to track him down, for something to do as much as a curiosity about his background.
Being alone was perhaps a mistake, much as I was certain the murderer had escaped. As it turned out I should have been far more cautious.
Simon was nowhere to be found on the entry floor, nor upstairs, so I headed to the basement. Mrs Innocenti confirmed she had seen no sign of him. By this time I was getting quite frustrated, slamming open doors in quick succession and finding nothing.
As I turned from the final empty room a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the basement. I started running toward the kitchen, Mrs Innocenti being the only one I had seen down here.
I entered to a scene of horror. Mrs Innocenti lay face down on the large bench where she had been preparing the meal, unmoving with a pool of blood seeping around her head. I cried out for help at the top of my lungs as I rushed over to her.
Her head was at an unusual angle that made it clear something was stuck in it, and I turned away with a shudder. Surely not? Surely she too had not been killed by the same method as Madam Perceptica?!
Thumping footsteps from above signalled the arrival of Silas and Daphne, who moved swiftly to examine the scene of the crime.
As I moved to join them there was another thump and thud, and I spun to find Jessica in a heap at the foot of the central stairway. I am not ashamed to admit screamed this time, unable to countenance the thought that this fine young woman too was dead—and by a method so similar to her twin sister!
To my great relief it turned out she was not, merely bruised and dishevelled by her fall. “Someone pushed me as I made my way down here,” she explained (and this time I was certain she said it was a push!). She said she could not be certain who it was, only a shadow that move past from the direction of the library.
I quickly realised this would make some sense: the killer, having dispatched Mrs Innocenti, would have escaped up the spiral staircase as I was covering the other, encountered Jessica descending, and shoved her aside.
I moved Jessica to a bench-seat and covered her eyes from the findings most foul the gentlemen were making with the body of Mrs Innocenti. I asked Daphne to cover the worst of the injuries, and he did so with a ham-cloth. “Innocenti would have liked that,” he said with an inappropriate smirk (though I will concede that how people cope with shock is their own business).
It appeared she had been killed by a single blow of a kitchen knife to her jaw, causing me no small amount of discomfort to see. Silas soon uncovered a book, in which Daphne appeared to discover something that interested him greatly. He repeated a phrase that, frankly, made no sense to me at all: “Subject deceased. Agent unknown. Other agents in play.”
Silas also lifted two necklaces from Mrs Innocenti’s neck: a crucifix (typical for one from the continent), and another heavy looking gem that Daphne claimed had something to do with Pope Innocent XIII.
I soon started to worry that Daphne and Silas were entirely too calm and causal about what was unfolding. Silas fussed over the body as Daphne studied what Silas was finding and added his own observations.
Daphne idly asked me how I found myself down here and I explained my intention to find Simon. Silas perked up at this and jumped to what I thought was an entirely inappropriate conclusion: that Simon was our killer. “He was in the room with Madam Perceptica, and now, after vanishing, we find Mrs Innocenti killed by a similar method.”
I was shocked that Dr Hawthorne could be so callous as to accuse a man he barely knew, and said as much. I decided to put my foot down, demanding that we gather everyone together once more. “It is the only way to be safe,” I said impatiently. The two gentlemen agreed, saying they would be along shortly, so I escorted Jessica back to the sitting room.
Lady Abernathy demanded to know what had happened to Jessica, and I explained the unfolding chaos as best as I could. Everyone was of course quite shocked and horrified. The Colonel made the sensible suggestion that we needed the constabulary quite urgently, and I agreed. From what I could tell Silas’s promise had come to nothing, so I suggested the Colonel make his way forth. Rufus, the butler, interjected here, saying that his good familiarity with the forested territory at the borders of the estate would give him a better chance of reaching civilisation. Lady Abernathy agreed to release him, shotgun in hand, and Rufus departed with godspeed and our prayers.
Daphne and Dr Hawthorne joined us and we closed the doors of the room, Simon the only one missing. The discussion became quite heated, everyone feeling the pressure of an possible killer in our midst. Dr Hawthorne repeated his accusations and to my great disappointment most seemed to agree with his theory.
The panic became too much for Jessica, who suddenly tried to run from the room, claiming she was unable to listen to another word and desperately needing rest. Silas stopped her from exiting, thank goodness, and then a strange sequence unfolded that I am unable to explain.
Daphne produced an apple from his pocket (where had that come from?) and took a satisfying bite. Then another apple appeared in his hand. “What you need, Miss O’Hara, is to eat. Try this.” And with that he tossed the apple to Jessica. She snatched it out of the air was surprising dexterity, catching it with her left hand. Daphne looked surprised for a split second, then nodded and continued eating—as did Jessica, who thanked Daphne. Who knew apples could be so effective?
As a sop to Jessica we decided to extend our safe rooms to the study. Those that wished to discuss the more weighty matters at hand could retreat there, whilst those requiring rest could remain in the parlour. In practice this meant everyone but Jessica and the maid, Elizabeth.
In the war-room, Daphne and Mr Blackwood wanted to pair up and search the house. I protested that this was precisely what we had done after Madam Perceptica’s death with the result that the killer escaped (or so we thought) and another of our company ended up dead. Sticking together still seemed the only way to be safe.
Silas made the observation (quite reasonably I will admit) that the first death had occurred with everyone in the room, so there was no guarantee of safety in numbers.
This led to discussing Simon again. Dr Hawthorne was quite certain, and Daphne supported him. I protested most strongly, supported, I was pleased to find, by Lady Abernathy. How could Mr d’Chartreuse have killed Madam Perceptica in the brief seconds when the room was thrown into darkness? Leaping over the table, grabbing the salt shaker, embedding it in the skull of Madam Perceptica, and returning to his seat unscathed? And how did he dispatch poor Mrs Innocenti when only moments before I had determined he was nowhere to be found?
Lady Abernathy concurred, decrying the accusation of Simon and instead positing her own theory: that the killer was from ‘beyond’, a mystical force terrorising us for reasons unknown.
I will admit I was surprised. But I was also willing to consider this possibility, for who are we to claim we understand the mysteries of the spirit? Dr Hawthorne scoffed, though he hid it well. Daphne too was sceptical, and the Colonel was as inscrutable as an old army man often is. I could see Mr Blackwood studying who stood one which side of this divide. He was clearly a man of science, like Dr Hawthorne, so I presume he too thought Lady Abernathy’s suggestion rather absurd.
As we seemed to have reached an impasse, I turned back to check on Jessica and Elizabeth.
I opened the doors to the parlour…and the room was empty.
I screamed, again. An anguished cry this time. The gentlemen came running. I could not stop myself and rushed from the room, hollering Jessica’s name. Daphne and Silas followed close behind, Mr Blackwood and the Colonel staying with Lady Abernathy.
In the cacophony, unless I was mistaken, I overheard Daphne now accusing Jessica! Claiming her impressive reflexes in catching the accursed apple was enough to convince him that she could also have moved quickly enough to kill our two victims.
I will admit I lost my head at this point. I was equal measures panicked and terrified. Thankfully Silas has the foresight to grab his rifle—despite our disagreement regarding Simon, Dr Hawthorne was a good man.
As we rushed from room to room, finding nothing, my despair grew. I flung open the door to the storeroom beyond the library and almost had a heart attack.
Standing inside was Simon, of all people, nonchalantly stubbing out a cheroot and looking as insouciant as ever.
“Simon!” I cried, “Where have you been!”
As I caught my breath, Simon explained he had taken himself for a constitutional around the grounds to clear his head. Dr Hawthorne looked on suspiciously, but I could see he relaxed as he saw Simon’s clothing was somewhat wet, and his manner relaxed—not the demeanour of one who has recently killed.
Ironically, the shock of finding Simon calmed my nerves, and we regathered with the gentlemen to make a plan of action.
We would place people at each stairway to ensure they were secure. Myself and Daphne would then clear each floor in turn, flushing out anyone hiding or planning escape. I was struck by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu, almost this exact sequence having played out after Madam Perceptica’s death.
With everyone in position, Daphne and I proceeded forth. The ground floor was quickly cleared, as was the basement. We checked in with the guards and Lady Abernathy’s cohort after each floor, ensuring no more disappearances.
It seemed the killer must be upstairs, or, once again, gone.
The wine room, smaller bedrooms, and vanity were all empty. We took longer in Lady Abernathy’s room, Daphne emptying her jewel box, presumably to see if anything matched those worn by Mrs Innocenti (they did not).
Only two rooms remained: those belonging to Mr d’Chartreuse and Jessica. By this point I had despaired of catching our killer.
Simon’s room was mostly bare, but for a small travel bag that Daphne insisted on opening. He fumbled with the lock, so I stepped in and quickly picked it—something I would rather not have revealed but time was of the essence. I am not sure he would have noticed my particular skill, in any case.
Daphne emptied the bag, finding very little until a small notebook fell to the floor. He picked it up and from it fell another crucifix on a chain, similar to that worn by Mrs Innocenti—or so I thought.
Daphne held it aloft, noting the rather gruesome detail of the carving. Then he let the crucifix drop from its chain and my blood ran cold.
The body of our crucified Lord hung by His bloodied feet.
“Satanism!” cried Daphne triumphantly.
