Why Mermaids Sing

Chapter 62

The mare was tiring by the time the river came into view, its storm-churned surface as agitated and gray as the sky above it.

Mud flying from his horse’s hooves, Sebastian tore up the hill to the wide green where the ancient Norman bulk of St. Andrews brooded over a deserted, rain-drenched graveyard. He leapt down, his boots squelching in the mud, his gaze scanning the quiet scene. He’d been hoping to find Lovejoy and his constables already here, ahead of him.

A half-grown lad hurrying past on his way to the High Street cast Sebastian a queer look.

“You, lad,” said Sebastian. “Has there been a magistrate here? From London?”

“No.” The boy backed away, his eyes wide as he stared at Sebastian’s blood-splattered silk waistcoat, his torn and bloodied coat.

Sebastian fumbled for his purse. “Here’s a shilling for you, if you’ll walk the mare up and down the lane. And a promise of two more when I come back.”

The boy looked hesitant, but relented at the sight of the coins in Sebastian’s hand.

Sebastian splashed up the walk to the physician’s white frame house. He plied the front knocker hard, then listened to the sound of it echo away to nothing. “Anyone there?” he shouted against the roar of the rain.

The house before him lay still and silent.

He took a step back, his gaze scanning the yard. Water gushed off the eaves. He could see a stable with room for two horses at the base of the garden and beside it an open-sided shelter where the physician doubtless kept his carriage. The space was empty.

The sprigs of hay found on the bodies of young Stanton and Carmichael suggested they’d been held and killed in a barn or a stable. Yet surely Newman hadn’t brought his victims here to Avery, where the chances of accidental discovery loomed large. So if not here, then where?

“Hello?” Sebastian called again.

He was about to swing away when he heard the latch turn. The door opened a crack and the housekeeper peered out at him, her features pinched with suspicion and anxiety. He was acutely conscious of his beard-roughened chin, his disheveled clothes.

Then she must have recognized him, because her expression cleared. “Goodness, it’s you, my lord. Whatever has happened to you? Do come in and sit down, quickly.”

Sebastian stayed on the porch. “Where is Dr. Newman?”

“I’m afraid the doctor is not in, my lord.” She spoke with a studied deliberation that made Sebastian want to grab and shake her, just to get her to speak faster. “Went off late last night, he did, in his gig. Told me not to expect him back before Monday.”

“Have you any idea where he might have gone?”

The housekeeper frowned. “I’m afraid he didn’t say.” She hesitated, then added slowly, “I know he sometimes goes to Oak Hollow Farm for a few days, so I suppose it’s possible he—”

“Oak Hollow Farm?” said Sebastian sharply.

“It’s a property he inherited from his uncle. It did have tenants, but they emigrated to America last year, so it’s empty now. He’s been spending quite a bit of time there these last few months. Actually, I believe he was there just last—”

“How do I get there?”

The question seemed to surprise her, but after a moment, she stepped out onto the small portico to point into the driving rain. “You take that lane, just to the north of the church. Keep going past the village of Ditton until you see the ruins of an old medieval tower. The farm’s there, just below the ridge.”

“Thank you.” Sebastian stepped back into the rain. “There’ll be a magistrate and constables here soon from London. Give them the information you’ve just given me.”

“A London magistrate?” The housekeeper clucked her tongue. “Whatever for?”

But Sebastian was already running toward his horse.