Never Trust a Dead Man

Page 14

"Oh," Farold said.
"'Oh,'" Selwyn repeated. And, when Farold didn't continue, "That's a fine defense you offer, Farold."
"I don't need to offer a defense," Farold said. "I'm the dead man, remember? Not the suspect."
"We're not talking about who murdered you. We're talking about you being a nasty, worthless creature."
"You know, I can leave whenever I want," Farold warned him. "People don't shout at you in the afterlife."
It was a worrisome thought, no matter what. "You get me feeling all sorry for you and concerned about your bruised feelings, then I learn that you're so thoughtless, you would demand Holt pay you back when you knew that would have ruined him."
"It wouldn't necessarily have ruined him," Farold said. Grudgingly he added, "It might have hurt a bit. But I needed the money. I couldn't very well marry Anora and ask her to move into my little room under the stairs. And we couldn't all move into Uncle Derian's room or ask him to trade rooms with us: 'Excuse me, Uncle Derian, could you move from the big room at the front of the house and up off the street, to the cubbyhole right next to the machinery?' The only way was to build on a new room, and it had to be furnished. With Uncle Derian never marrying, there hasn't been a woman living at the mill since my parents died."
"You have - had - a lot of money coming in from the mill," Selwyn pointed out He had a sudden thought. "Didn't you? Or has the mill been in financial trouble since you took over the running of it?" Maybe, he thought, DERIAN had killed Farold. Derian, living at the mill, certainly had a better opportunity for it than Merton or Orik or Thorne or Holt, or even Linton, who had been Selwyn's first suspect. If Farold's mismanagement was causing the mill to lose money ... and maybe he had refused to turn it back over to Derian ...
But Farold was shaking his head. "No," Farold said, obviously offended. "The mill made more money this year under me than any year previously."
"Well, if you had so much money, why did you need what you'd loaned Holt?"
"Because Derian is still the owner. The money from the mill is his."
Selwyn thought how his father had been willing to help clear the new field when there had been the possibility that Selwyn might marry Anora. But families were different, and if Derian hadn't been willing to advance the money to Farold, Selwyn supposed he could see how Farold would panic and turn to Holt. Though Anora, he was sure, would have understood and wouldn't have demanded luxurious accommodations. She was too sweet and kindhearted to allow harm to come to anyone on her behalf, even indirectly.
"All right," Selwyn said, "so not Derian. That leaves Orik, who thinks you're the father of his unmarried daughter's child..." He held out his thumb to begin counting.
"And Wilona, for the same reason," Farold pointed out.
Selwyn's immediate reaction was to say no, but he thought about it. The murderer had stabbed Farold in the back during the night, apparently counting on his being asleep, on his not putting up a fight. A woman, not being as strong as a man, may well have chosen this kind of a sneak attack. "Maybe," he acknowledged, and counted off his forefinger. Then he went on, "Or Holt, so he wouldn't have to pay you back the money he owed you. Or Thorne, to make sure you didn't tell people what you knew about his son. Or Alden, for blackmailing him - "
"Alden?" Farold hooted. "Alden is a wonderful suspect if you don't mind that he doesn't live here anymore. Come back from God-knows-where to kill me nine months after the fact, then disappear back into the night without a trace?"
"Maybe," Selwyn insisted, but he put down the finger that represented Alden. Then he put it back up as he resumed counting. "Linton, so the mill would pass down to him - "
"Always a stretch," Farold observed.
Selwyn ignored him and switched to his other hand, ending with six. "And Merton."
"Why would Merton want me dead?"
"I have no idea," Selwyn said. "But he's the one person besides you who knew about the knife."
Farold didn't argue.
"There wasn't anybody else who knew about the knife, was there?"
"No," Farold said.
"So why would Merton want you dead?" Selwyn asked.
"I already told you: I don't know."
"I thought you might have remembered something you failed to tell me before. Like with Alden and Thorne and Holt and, to a certain extent, Kendra. Is there?"
"No," Farold said grumpily. "You're adding more and more possibilities, but nobody for whom all the pieces fit. And you're not getting any closer to proving anything."
"I know," Selwyn grumbled. "Tomorrow we'll have to find some excuse to take a look at your room - see if we can learn anything there."
"We can try," Farold said. "But I doubt, after almost a week, that we'll find anything."
Selwyn thought he was probably right, but he only said, "In the meantime, I'm going to let you out of your cage." He unfastened the twine that held the door, which was really an enchanted bit of vine tied on pieces of sticks. "Try flying around the houses of the suspects. Maybe you'll see or overhear something."
Farold fluttered around the room to stretch his wings, then sat on top of the cage. "Oh, that's very likely," he said with exaggerated enthusiasm. "At this hour what I'm likely to see is people sleeping, and what I'll overhear is Snoring."
"I'll leave the cage door open so you can get in and out," Selwyn said, ignoring his sarcasm. "Maybe you'll learn something tomorrow. Try to stay out of people's way. If anybody asks, I'll have to say you escaped. But Kendra is so well liked that everyone will try to recapture you for her. Still, make sure you check back with me regularly so that we can tell each other what we've learned."
"So what you're saying," Farold said, "is stay around people so I can watch them, but keep away lest they see me. And all the while keep coming back here, where everybody will be trying to catch me to impress you."
Selwyn smacked the cage with the wet rag again, and Farold took to the air. "Just go," Selwyn told him. "Keep out of the ale barrels." He opened the back door, then went to get the basin of wash water to dump it.
The first thing he noticed when he stepped outside was that Farold had not flown away but was perched on the open door, chirping a bad imitation of a goldfinch song. Then Selwyn saw why. Anora, too, was just emptying a basin of wash water into the alley. He had not seen her in the tavern today; he had not seen her since the day he'd been dragged out of her father's house to the burial cave.
Now, even though she had her back to him, at first he couldn't get his voice to work. This turned out to be good, because in that extra moment he remembered to disguise his voice. "Hello," he said in the throaty whisper that - if it didn't exactly sound like a girl's voice - at least didn't sound quite like a man's.
Anora whirled around, which caused a good amount of the water she was pouring out to end up on his feet and legs. Hastily she righted the basin, though there couldn't have been much water left inside. She must have been too embarrassed to respond to his greeting, for she just stood there, looking at him in the alleyway that was lit only by the candlelight spilling out from both their doorways.
His kind, beautiful Anora. The sight of her left Selwyn breathless. Suddenly everything was clear to him: Farold was a terrible helper-companion-investigator to be saddled with. Sweet Anora would be much more help in solving the crime and proving his innocence. He knew he'd have to be careful, so as not to frighten her. But he was sure, once he explained all that had happened, she would be eager to help him.
He turned so that he could dump out the water he carried without splashing her, and at the same time he started to work out what would be the best way to tell her all that he needed to tell her.
Without warning, a bucketful of cold, greasy water hit his back. Selwyn gasped in surprise and whirled to find Anora had upended her basin over him. And he'd been wrong: There had been a significant amount left in the bottom.
Even Farold was stunned into silence, his beak parted but his song cut off midchirp.
"What - ," Selwyn started, forgetting to disguise his voice, but cold and surprise made it go high all on its own.
"How dare you come back?" Anora spit at him.
She knows who I am, he thought. And she believes I'm the one who killed Farold.
The thought that she didn't believe in his innocence left him speechless. It was another fortunate delay, for she continued, "You slut, you harlot, you worthless piece of garbage."
"But..." Selwyn had no idea where to go to from there.
Anora swung her basin, hitting his arm. "Why didn't you just stay away, Kendra?"
Selwyn caught hold of the edge of the basin as she started to make a second swing with it. "What are you talking about?"
' "What are you talking about?'" Anora mimicked in a cruel singsong. "Don't play innocent with me. Your mother told my mother all about you. I know where you've been." She gave up trying to wrest the basin out of Selwyn's grip.
"When?" Selwyn demanded, for Wilona had spent all day helping in the tavern, and Anora's mother had only come in for the briefest moments, while escorting his real mother when she brought in meals for the prisoner. "When did our mothers talk?"
Apparently Anora guessed what Selwyn was thinking. "Not today, stupid," she hissed. "More than a week ago. Your mother was so pleased with herself, saying you might be coming back home from the convent soon. And when my mother said six months was much too soon for a girl to learn refined manners and that you were rather old to be sent to the nuns anyway, your mother let it slip why you had really gone. Well, you ruined everything, you horrid little slut. I could have been the daughter of the headman and the wife of the wealthiest merchant in Penryth. Everyone would have envied me. And Farold wasn't even too bad-looking. But I had to call off the betrothal because of you, and make other arrangements, which aren't nearly as much to my liking. How could I possibly marry Farold when you were carrying his bastard and that child would always be the firstborn instead of one of mine?"
Selwyn was left stunned by this sudden flood of malevolence from his gentle Anora.
"But now Farold is dead," Anora said, "which I consider very lucky for me." She yanked her water basin from Selwyn's hand, coming close - he was sure - to taking several fingers with it "I'd consider it luckier still if you ended up dead, too." She turned her back, her hair whipping across his face, and she stamped her feet all the way back into her house. Then she slammed the door, leaving the air vibrating behind her.
Slowly Selwyn turned to face the door of the tavern. He crooked his finger at Farold, half expecting that - if his face showed half of what he felt - Farold would prefer Elswyth's company to his.
But Farold followed him back into the tavern's kitchen.
' "And Farold wasn't even too bad-looking,'" Farold grumbled, as though that were the worst of what Anora had said.
"She called off the betrothal?" Selwyn asked from between clenched teeth, fighting to keep his hands off Farold's little neck. "I kept asking, 'Is there anything you can think of that I should know?' and you didn't think to mention that Anora canceled the betrothal? Are there any other little details you've left out, like  - for example - maybe somebody said, 'Farold, I'm going to kill you'? Maybe you forgot to mention that?" Selwyn realized he was close to shouting, and in his own voice. He took several deep breaths.
"What difference could it make to you, considering your circumstances, that Anora and I had a little falling-out? Besides" - Farold ruffled his feathers - "I didn't think she meant it when she said she wouldn't marry me. I thought she'd get over it."
"What?" Selwyn asked in disbelief.
"She never actually said at the time why she was so angry. Don't forget I didn't know that Kendra - falsely, remember? - accused me of fathering a child. It's not my fault."
"Nothing ever is," Selwyn grumbled. But he was remembering the morning before Farold had been killed, when he'd seen Anora in the market and he'd thought she'd hinted that there was something wrong between her and Farold. I WASN'T mistaken, he told himself, even while he remembered that later, at the hearing in Bowden's house, Anora had denied it, leaving him to sound like a fool - or a liar. He also remembered all the weeping she'd done.
"There's probably something else you should know," Farold said.
"Oh?" Selwyn said testily. "What?"
"She was so angry that she was almost incoherent; but one thing I know she said was 'Just wait until I tell my father.'"
Selwyn let that thought settle in. Bowden knew -  or thought he knew - that Farold had disgraced his daughter with Kendra. Another angry father.
But it was hard to think of Bowden when his mind kept going back to Anora. Kind, sweet, gentle Anora. Who, apparently, settled between him and Farold by determining which was the more lucrative match. Who was then willing to switch back when that arrangement failed. Who did a convincing job as the grief-stricken betrothed. Who was willing to call Kendra names and try to beat her with a washbasin. Who at the very least had just ill-wished him, and maybe even threatened him.
He looked down at his hands, at the red welts caused when Anora had snatched the basin away. It seemed Anora was capable of much that he never would have guessed. Slowly he held up fingers seven and eight - two more suspects to add to the list of possible murderers: Anora and her father.
Chapter Nineteen
It had been so long since he had slept in a bed instead of on the hard ground that Selwyn overslept. Kendra's parents must have decided he needed the rest, for they didn't wake him.
By the time he got up, it was already light out, and he could smell bread baking - proof that Wilona, at least, was already hard at work.