Dora joined him by the casement and leaned against him. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the muslin of her dress sleeve. ‘It looks a sad place. He said his mother died there and his father drowned in the tarn.’
Alex came to her other side. ‘If he’s the violent man we suspect, are we sure his father drowned? Might he not have been helped to die, like that other man, that Barton you mentioned?’
‘Are you saying Knotte has been killing people for years and no one has noticed?’ asked Dora in an appalled tone.
‘You’re unlikely to start with an elaborate killing involving crooks and ropes at Billingsgate. Faking a drowning seems a much easier beginning to a career in murder.’
‘You’re right, Alex.’ Dora rubbed her arms, fingers brushing where Jacob touched her. ‘That is terrifying. And I spent an hour alone with him today– and we went past another tarn!’
Jacob pulled her closer into his warmth. ‘Let Alex and me search the cottage, Dora. You’ve done your part today. You stay and keep Ruby inside.’
She snorted. ‘Somehow, I think that might be the more disagreeable task, but all right: you two can break into the cottage. I’ll watch the road in case Knotte decides to come back here tonight. If I see him coming, I’ll bash the mop bucket with the poker– you should be able to hear that.’
‘Lock the doors,’ said Alex.
‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll bash him with the poker should he dare to come near me,’ she said fiercely.
‘She’d do it too. I’ve seen her in action,’ said Jacob. ‘Let’s head out, Smith. Sooner we go, the sooner we can be back and let Dora defend us.’
ChapterTwenty-Four
Darkness was falling as Jacob and Alex approached the shepherd’s cottage. No lights were visible and the windows were shuttered. From the thistles growing out of the cracked front step, it had been abandoned for some months, if not years. In contrast to the glow of his own home across the valley, this looked a desolate place, as sad as the family that had come to grief there.
Jacob tried the door, but it was locked. The bottom gave a little but it appeared to be bolted at the top.
‘Round the back?’ suggested Alex.
The gate squeaked as they let themselves into the rear garden. A shed, probably once used for lambing, slumped in a corner, the roof collapsed into the building. The flagstones were barely visible under the weeds that had been left to riot.
‘Who owns this, do you know?’ Alex rattled the backdoor.
‘The same farmer as owns mine. He lives over at Elterwater.’
‘It seems a shame to let the place go like this. A few more winters and it will have fallen down completely.’
‘If it’s got a bad reputation, he might not think it worth maintaining. Cheaper to build a new cottage somewhere else on the hillside.’ Jacob tried the shutters and found one that swung open. ‘Here– there’s a way in. The window isn’t fastened.’ He prised it open with his fingernails. Once this was done, he could easily reach in to open the other window, making a big enough space to climb through. It led into the old scullery with a stone sink. ‘Well now– there’s scuff marks and mud on the basin. We’re not the first to come in this way.’ Holding on to the top of the frame, he climbed inside. Alex followed.
The ground floor of the cottage had been stripped of furniture. Anything of any use or value had been moved elsewhere and even the grate had been taken from the kitchen fireplace. It smelled damp and muddy. A water stain browned the corner of the main room, proof of a serious leak above.
‘I think even the mice have moved out,’ said Jacob.
Alex grimaced at the wooden steps leading up. ‘I suppose we have to check now we’re here, but it doesn’t look a very good place to keep anything.’
Jacob’s eye was caught by some marks on the doorframe. A child’s height had been noted against their age. It ended at about the height of the adult Luke Knotte. His father’s height had been noted at the top, and his mother’s below– she had been no more than five feet tall. Luke had grown to be between the two– a small glimpse of what should’ve been a happy, modest family life of simple folk from these parts.
‘He spoiled all this by getting it lodged in his head that his father wasn’t his father,’ said Jacob.
‘Perhaps someone should tell him that the man who raises you is your father. The rest is an accident of birth,’ said Alex.
‘Somehow I don’t think he’d be impressed by such reasoning.’ Jacob opened the shutter on the lantern they had brought with them. It cast a narrow ray of light up the stairwell. ‘You can stay down here. Try and catch me if I fall through those very unpromising-looking rafters.’
‘Sorry, my friend, but my hero days are over– I’ll be moving out of the way pretty sharpish. However, I’ll bravely shout if I see any new cracks.’
‘I’ll make sure I mention that in dispatches– get you a medal.’
Deciding that was as good as he was going to get, Jacob headed up the stairs. The treads creaked but had been solidly built. They might be the last thing to go in this building. Two small bedrooms opened out at the top, one on the left, the other on the right. The right-hand one was above the leak and was badly water damaged. The left-hand one though…
‘So this is where you’re keeping your things,’ murmured Jacob. This room was clean and relatively dry. A trunk stood on the bare boards by the window but he had to negotiate his way across the rotten floorboards. When one sagged alarmingly under his foot, he backtracked and edged around the margin of the room, hoping where the joists met the wall would be stronger. Arriving at the trunk, Jacob opened the shutters so he could look at the contents in what remained of the daylight. He’d left the lantern at the top of the stairs to light the way down.
