Page 21 of Corpse in the Canal

“Has the doctor been sent for?” he asked the constable who stood to attention on the other side of the body, awkwardly clutching his hat in respect.

“Don’t think he’ll be much use,” said the rather unkempt man beside the constable.

Solomon crouched down beside Harvey. Percy’s expensively tailored coat hung open, splayed in a curiously shapeless and ungainly way. Solomon reached out to the nearest dripping pocket and drew out a large, rough stone. There were others in there. At the same time, he saw what Constance meant about the dead man’s chest. He smoothed the wet, dirty fabric of Percy’s waistcoat. A small hole was visible, and it went through the shirt too.

The tragedy was no accident. Someone had shot Percy and filled his pockets with stones in the hope that his body would stay hidden in the canal.

*

“You are the lockkeeper?” Solomon said to the unkempt man who had stood beside the constable before making way for the local doctor’s arrival.

“I am. And yes, that is my cottage right here. Name’s George West.”

“Grey,” Solomon said. “I’ve been helping Mr. Harvey look for his son in London. Did you know Percy had returned to Channing?”

“No, and I didn’t see him go into the canal neither.” The man spoke with an aggression that seemed to be habitual rather than specific. There was no obvious fear in his eyes.

“You didn’t hear a gunshot?”

West straightened his shoulders, his bushy eyebrows flying upward. “Gunshot?”

“He’s been shot in the chest. There’s no telling where that happened, of course, but since you live so close, I thought you might at least have heard his body go into the water.”

“Well, I didn’t. No saying he went into the lock anyway. Could have gone in anywhere upstream and washed into the lock when the chamber was filled.”

“And when was the chamber last filled?”’

“When Fred’s boat came up from Channing yesterday, then went up to the moorings at Larchford for the night.”

Solomon regarded the barge-like vessel waiting still on the other side of the gates, its worried crew on deck. “That boat?”

West nodded. “Brought various merchandise to the town from London yesterday. Does so every month. Then he ties up for the night and makes some other stops before heading back to Channing and London again.”

“When did he come through the lock yesterday?” Solomon asked.

West scratched his head. “’Bout five o’clock in the afternoon, I reckon, by the time he got to the lock.”

“So the body might have floated into the lock then, when you opened the gates to raise the water level? Without your noticing?”

“It’s possible,” West said with a shrug.

“So no other boat came downstream between Fred going up and coming back?”

“It’s not the busiest route.” There was a hint of defensiveness in the lockkeeper’s voice.

“Before Fred came upstream,” Solomon asked, “when was the last time you raised the water level in the lock?”

“Tuesday? Monday? No, it were Tuesday right enough, for the squire. Sir Felix. He likes to travel by boat. Stands to reason, when he owns the canal.”

On Tuesday, Percy had still been in London. So if his body hadn’t been dumped directly into the lock chamber, then it must have floated in from farther up yesterday when the gates were opened.

Solomon glanced around him. The body was being loaded onto a cart. The doctor was with Harvey, awkwardly patting his arm and talking in soothing tones. Constance was walking around the canal bank, her eyes on the ground. They would have to examine the opposite bank too, and some distance upstream toward the town. Surely a gunshot actually in the town would have been noticed and investigated?

Solomon thanked the lockkeeper and approached the serious-looking middle-aged constable. “Constable Wills? My name is Grey. My wife and I were helping Mr. Harvey look for his son in London. I don’t suppose you received any reports of unexplained gunshots yesterday, either in the town or around this part of the country? Probably before five o’clock in the afternoon?”

The constable shook his head, although he did not look surprised at the question, so at least he had noticed the wound in Percy’s chest.

“Grey!” Harvey called suddenly, his voice hoarse yet curiously powerful. “Grey, where are you?”