Page 19 of Nature of the Crime
The two guards traveling with them to the inn hopped onto the running boards once the door was shut.
“Good luck at the inquest,” she said, raising her voice to be heard through the glass window. “And try not to throttle the baron.”
Chapter
Eight
Somehow, the body of Bertrand Vaillancourt appeared even more deceased when Hugh next viewed it in the light of the church nave. The dark and macabre viewing in the crypt had been designed solely to rattle and intimidate Audrey. A folly on Lord Burton’s part. Little could rattle the dowager duchess. If anything, the man had only managed to increase her resolve to prove her own innocence—and find the true murderer.
Now, bleak light came through the stained glass of the chancel and exposed the ashen cast of Vaillancourt’s skin. In the crypt, he looked as though he could have just been sleeping. Here, he was well and truly corpselike. Hugh stood near the body, along with several more men. Carrigan and Michael were in attendance, though they and Hugh weren’t official jurors, not with their connection to the current suspect. A representative from the packet office, a handful of townsmen from Dover, and a senior military officer, Lieutenant Edmunds rounded out the jury. The coroner, Doctor Heard, had traveled from Deal to oversee the inquest.
Hugh closely observed the interaction between the doctor and Lord Burton as the group arranged themselves around the recess in the apse, where a small statue of Mary Magdalen hadbeen set aside to make room for the low bench holding the late inquiry agent.
It was entirely possible Burton had sent a request to this particular coroner because they were on good terms, and if Burton was resolved against Audrey, that could be a strike against her. Then again, the coroner was only typically charged with determining the cause of death—whether natural, accidental, misadventure, suicide, or murder. From there, the jury would hear evidence and determine if anyone could be identified as the guilty party.
Hugh glanced over his shoulder. Sir lounged in a pew with his arms crossed and a look of boredom etched upon his face. Outwardly he may have appeared glum, but it was all an act. The boy had practically glowed with excitement earlier when Hugh had gone through the rough idea of his plan.
“You want me to nick something from the dead man’s bag?” Sir had asked, as if he’d not heard correctly.
“Two items, maybe three. Metal or wood are best, fabric if there’s nothing else. But no paper.”
He’d scrunched his nose. “What do you have against paper?”
“Just don’t get caught,” he’d replied, unable to explain that Audrey’s ability didn’t work well with paper. “I’ll try to provide a distraction, so you aren’t seen.”
However, he’d yet to figure out what that distraction would be. Vaillancourt’s handbag had been placed on the step that led down from the chapel alcove. One of the jurymen stood next to it, the man’s heels practically brushing the worn leather. Sir had positioned himself on a pew nearby, but he’d be noticed in a moment if he tried to riffle through it right now. The group of men had been sedate so far, listening to Doctor Heard introduce the victim and identify him as a possible private inquiry agent. He then gave his findings to the jury, citing the vomit and diarrhea the victim emitted aboard theBritanniashortly beforethe time of his death, the metallic odor emanating from his mouth, and severe gastrointestinal bleeding discovered during a post-mortem autopsy.
“These are classic symptoms of acute arsenic poisoning. There is no question that the deceased suffered from a deadly dose,” Doctor Heard said.
“So, you conclude it was murder,” Lord Burton interjected.
The doctor frowned. “Not necessarily. Most arsenic deaths are caused by accidental exposure.”
It was true enough. The common household item was often put out to kill rats and other vermin. There had been several deaths while Hugh was with Bow Street that had involved the substance, most of them young children that unknowingly got into the poison. He could recall only one arsenic case that had been murder. A woman, finished with the beatings her husband had given her and her children, had mixed it into his steak and kidney pie. She would have likely gotten away with it, had she not confided in a friend who’d then turned on her.
Doctor Heard’s answer wasn’t what the baron wanted. He bristled and dug in his chin. “Those cases were not accompanied by letters such as this, left on the victims’ bodies, though. Were they?”
He took the note that Hugh had already seen from his coat pocket and held it up for the jury, before passing it to the man nearest to him. Lieutenant Edmunds’s stern expression did not change as he read it quickly, then passed it along to the next juror.
“Audrey Sinclair, the Dowager Duchess of Fournier, was traveling aboard the same packet, theBritannia,” Burton went on. “This morning, she revealed to me that she had previously met the victim while in Rome.”
When he failed to go on with further details, Hugh stepped forward. “The dowager’s driver, Mr. Carrigan can account for it.”
Tall, stout, and with a chest like a barrel, Carrigan had not changed during his time on the Continent with Audrey, except that he had grown a beard and moustache, which he kept neatly trimmed. He’d sneezed a few times since arriving at the church, and his voice was noticeably hoarse, the tip of his nose red. He looked to be suffering a head cold, but he’d still come to defend Audrey.
He addressed the coroner, rather than Lord Burton.
“The man introduced himself to the dowager as Mr. Bruno Ricci. He posed as a local historian and tour guide and took Her Grace and her companion, Lady Cassandra Sinclair, around the ancient sites.”
“The dowager claims she did not see Mr. Vaillancourt after she left Rome,” Burton put in, his skepticism marked by a haughty grin.
“That is true,” Carrigan replied.
“And yet he boarded the same packet as your mistress to return to England.”
“Without Her Grace’s knowledge, or mine.” Carrigan kept his temper in check, one of his many qualities. “Several passengers can verify that the dowager stayed in her cabin the entire crossing.”
“I am aware of that, thank you,” Burton said, impatient with the driver and his facts. “However, she could have previously laced the man’s hand pie, which he must have purchased before boarding theBritannia. The remains of which were…discharged onto the floor around him.”
