Page 68 of Leafpoint Lighthouse

I peered at the screen and hit print. As Avery worked on his letters, with William now helping him, I’d been doing some research online.

“William, Jane Trelawny—was she related to you?” I asked, picking up the printout.

William became stiff. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I found a notice of marriage,” I replied, holding up the small newspaper.

William stiffened further. “My family wasn’t rich enough for an announcement.”

He crossed the floor and gazed down. His eyes scanned the article, and he frowned. “No,” he breathed. “That couldn’t have happened.”

“Who is she?” I asked, worried.

“My sister. Jane was famous as a local beauty, and there’d been many suitors for her hand. She was much younger than me, a late child. She was eight and ten when I died. But this is dated four days after my murder. I would have known about this,” William hissed.

“Would your parents have hidden this from you?” I asked.

“Yes. Because I hated Allan Barnaby,” he agreed.

“The mayor?”

“Yes. Barnaby was a vile man, easily bribed and greedy. So damn penny-pinching. Jane would have been miserable with him. He was also ten years older than me. Everyone local knew not to cross him. And if you wanted a crime overlooked, grease Barnaby’s palm with silver. He’d suddenly find you an alibi to get you released,” William growled.

“Oh, William!” I gasped, feeling sorry for Jane. That poor girl.

“Can you find more?” William asked, his eyes feverish.

“Yes.” I kept searching the newspaper records, then stiffened in surprise. I re-read the article before printing it and kept scrolling. I found two more and sat back as William caught my eye.

“What?”

“Jane never married Allan.”

William looked immensely relieved. “My parents called it off!”

“No. Allan died the same night as everyone else.” I dropped the bombshell.

“What?” William asked, turning his head to Avery, who was listening intently.

“Allan Barnaby’s body was never found, but his horse came back riderless. There was blood covering it, so much so that Barnaby was declared dead within three days. Physicians claimed no man could have survived that immense loss of blood. In addition, near the coast road his purse was found and his cane.” I handed William the article, and he snatched it.

“The Master.”

“Yes. I think so. Barnaby had a lot to lose if Avery had identified him.”

Avery cocked his head.

“Can you remember anything else?” William asked.

“Like what?” Avery demanded.

“Was he dressed well? Did he carry a cane? Did he speak in a posher accent?” I asked.

Avery scrunched his nose up, and I was worried that this might bring back bad memories.

“Master had a black cane with a special silver handle. It was a wolf’s head. He wore nice clothes, and he had a nob’s[1] accent,” Avery agreed.

“Blast and damnation. That bastard stared Charles Jasper in the face and agreed to support him. And Barnaby was betraying the Marquess the entire time,” William exclaimed.