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I am going to have to go at night.
“I have to find out what Isaac is up to, and then I can decide if I can trust him or not and if leaving is really worth the risk.” All sorts of scenarios began to run running through her mind, all of which left her in no doubt that she couldn’t trust Isaac either. But it was only because she couldn’t understand why a handsome man like Isaac would want to risk everything to protect a peasant farmer.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When Isaac reached the parlour, he found not just Mark but Reginald and his mother waiting for him. He nodded to them all before assuming an arrogant pose before the fire. He wasn’t usually one who used his title to his advantage but on this occasion, he wanted all of them to know that he was the Lord, and the master of the house they were all in.
“Does someone care to tell me what this little meeting is about?”
“There has been another murder,” Gertrude informed him.
“Yes, I know. Mr Richmond, I believe,” Isaac scowled at Mark, as if asking why he was sitting in his parlour.
“No, another one,” Gertrude replied.
Isaac glared at Mark. “I suppose you are going to blame that on Tuppence as well, eh? Well, who was it?”
“Mrs Girdling,” Sir Reginald replied, as if the name should be familiar to Isaac.
“Were you able to see Tuppence all day today?” Mark asked.
“Ah, so you are now probing into how close my relationship is with her, are you? I suppose that is to be expected,” Isaac murmured, his tone as contemptuous as the look in his eyes. “I don’t sleep with her Detective Inspector Bosville, so there was a period overnight when none of us were around to watch her while she slept. However, she did sleep well or would be visibly showing the ravages of a sleepless night this morning, don’t you think?” The sneer in his voice was evident to everyone, and made his mother sit a little straighter in her seat. Isaac expected her to chide him for his tone, but she merely looked at him with a slight frown between her eyes. It warned him that she was deeply worried about something, but he didn’t care what it was. He suspected that he already knew but wasn’t prepared to give her enough leeway to be able to broach the subject of his relationship with Tuppence.
“Mrs Girdling is the woman who found Tuppence standing over Mr Lewis’s dead body the morning he was murdered,” Mark explained.
Isaac’s voice was hoarse when he said: “It wasn’t Tuppence.”
“I know.” Mark sighed heavily. “You see, Mrs Girdling was strangled this morning. A neighbour heard thuds coming from within the house and went around to see if Mrs Girdling was alright. By the time they got there, Mrs Girdling was dead. The killer must have just escaped.”
“But nobody saw anything,” Reginald said.
Mark shook his head.
“Tuppence was here.” Isaac was adamant about that fact even though he hadn’t seen her all the time.
“Mrs Girdling’s death happened at about seven o’clock this morning,” Mark informed them.
“Ah, I get it. You think that Tuppence snuck out of the house, raced to the village, strangled Mrs Girdling in her bed, and then ran back here to take breakfast with all of us, is that it?”
“No. That’s not it,” Mark replied firmly, annoyed that Isaac didn’t appear to be listening to him. “I don’t mean to be rude, but Mrs Girdling is a rather large lady. She tried to fight the killer off. The kitchen was wrecked during the struggle. A table was shoved across the room, chairs were upended, and a pile of wood beside the fire had been scattered all over the kitchen. Further, the contents of the dresser were strewn everywhere, we assume while Mrs Girdling struggled.”
“Tuppence isn’t strong enough to do something like that,” Reginald murmured, even though he had never set eyes on Mrs Girdling in his life.
“Unfortunately, my boss thinks that Tuppence is because she lifts heavy bales of hay and carries them around her farm. While slender, she is far stronger and fitter than most young women of her age,” Mark reasoned.
“That is the argument he intends to put forward, is it?” Sir Reginald scratched his chin and stared thoughtfully out of the front room window.
“A jury would believe it.” Isaac almost willed Sir Reginald to deny it but his uncle merely nodded. “It would be a tall order to persuade a judge that a determined killer, even of Tuppence’s size, would not be capable of murdering a woman like Mrs Girdling. I mean, with a ligature around the neck, twisted or pulled tightly, all the killer would have to do was hang on while the woman staggered around the kitchen trying to free herself. Someone of Tuppence’s strength might be able to do it. If an argument is convincing enough, a jury might accept it and find Tuppence guilty of Mrs Girdling’s murder.”
“But she was here!” Isaac argued. “Does the witness testimonies of people in this house who know she was here not count for anything?”
“Calm yourself, Isaac, my boy,” Sir Reginald murmured.
“She is not going to be arrested for crimes she didn’t commit. Jesus, Mark. You know her. How in the Hell can you just sit here and send her to the gallows just because your bloody boss tells you to? Do facts not mean anything to you?”
Mark, who had slept poorly over the last few days, partly because of his unsettled conscience and partly because his wife was now refusing to talk to him, ran a weary hand through his hair. His usually normally, blissfully happy marriage was facing ruination because of his sodding job. Further, he suspected he had lost his friendship with Isaac because of the Chief Inspector’s determination to hang Tuppence, and there was little Mark could do to stop him.
“I will see you out of a job for this,” Isaac hissed. “By the time I am through with you neither you nor the Great Sodding Chief Inspector will work again.”
