Surrender the Wind (24 page)

Within an hour, Constable Latterbuck appeared at Seth's door.

C
onstable Latterbuck stood on the Persian rug in the foyer and waited for the master of Ten Width to acknowledge his arrival. Impatiently, he drummed his sausage-like fingers on the table beside him. He glanced over the paintings, the tapestry, and the way sunlight came through the windows. He tried to make an honest assessment of the place and wondered what the rest of the house looked like. Already he was bored, and a wide toothy yawn overtook him; he pressed a meaty palm over his gaping mouth. He had been in the middle of an enjoyable nap when Will roused him and entreated him to come at once, claiming a body lay in the woods, that a murder had been committed.

“A murder?” he had said to Will. “No murder happens in my district. More than likely an accident.”

He recalled that the master of Ten Width had recently sent him a strange letter, where he claimed odd happenings were afoot at the old place, but Latterbuck didn’t believe it. Being contrary to every person who claimed any knowledge a’tall of a crime being committed, he ignored the urgings of the squire to meet with him and his sister to discuss the matter.

What was done was done. Why bother with situations that have been resolved or come to a happy ending? More important matters needed attention in the immediate, namely keeping an unblemished record intact. If there were no crimes committed, people would believe he was responsible for the peace. He’d be a formidable force to those who would have mischief in mind.

Latterbuck stood in the hall and yawned a second time. He grew increasingly impatient and called out. “I say, is anyone coming or not!”

Juleah came into the hallway. She paused when Latterbuck extended a clumsy bow. Upon his feet were large black shoes decorated with dull brass buckles. The light silhouetted his large frame. For duty, he wore a heavy buff coat with large whalebone buttons and gray stockings over bulging calves and thick ankles.

Latterbuck's stomach growled and gurgled. His stained waistcoat stretched over his enlarged belly, separating between the buttonholes, and revealed the dingy shirt beneath.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, stifling a belch. He pulled his watch from his pocket and looked at the time. “The day is getting away from me. Is your husband coming or not?”

“He is, Constable, and shall be but a moment. He is changing his clothes.”

“Why? We are not going to a ball, ma’am.”

“I suggested it. What he wore earlier is too fine for such matters at hand.”

Latterbuck lifted a plump finger in the air. “Ah, not wishing to have them soiled is he? Well, he’ll not touch anything
he should not, ma’am. I’ll see to that. But do not let the maid clean those clothes, for they may be evidence.”

Juleah laughed. “Evidence, sir? I think not.”

“You’d be surprised what a coat or a pair of boots can tell. But it's nothing for you to worry your pretty head over. This is man's work.” Again, his stomach rumbled.

Juleah narrowed her eyes. “I would prefer you not reference me in that manner.”

Latterbuck appeared confused. “I don’t understand.”

“You said I should not worry my
pretty head
, sir.”

“Oh, I do apologize.” Latterbuck gave her an awkward bow. “It was improper, but true, ma’am.”

Juleah glanced back toward the door that led to the kitchen. “Would you like something to eat before you go?” She drew him away with a gesture of her hand.

“If it is no trouble.” He stepped alongside her. “I must tell you it is hard to do this job on an empty stomach. I have no wife you know.”

“Have you no cook?” she asked.

“Indeed, madam, I do. And a good one at that.”

Juleah showed him through to the kitchen. Claire was gathering apples from the barrel into her apron.

“Claire, please set a plate for the constable,” Juleah said.

Claire emptied the apples into a bowl and shortly plopped a plate of seared beef, bread, and potatoes in front of him. He stared at the plate of food, leaned over it, and sniffed to take in its aroma.

“No ale, my girl?”

Claire gave him a scowl and pulled a tin mug from off the shelf, yanked the tap on the keg, and made sure his portion was filled mostly with foam. She set it in front of him and waited.

Latterbuck licked his lips and wiggled his fingers. “This ale is better than what I’m accustomed to, even with the foam.” Saliva formed in the corners of his broad lips.

Juleah watched him and wondered if he had the kind of mind given to detection. He smelled of rum and tobacco. He ate with his mouth open. Food fell on the front of his waistcoat and, to her surprise, he’d pick it off and pop whatever it was into his mouth. Repulsed by his table manners, by the gravy that dripped down his chin, she handed him a napkin. But he lifted his beefy arm and wiped his mouth across his sleeve. He slopped bread through the gravy and shoved it into his mouth. He picked up the last crumb on the plate, sucked each finger in turn, and then swiped his hands with the cloth.

“Have you more?”

Claire stood back with her hands over her hips. “No. Unless you wish a dish of stewed apples.”

“I never eat fruit. It's bad for my digestion.” He tossed the napkin down and rose from the table. “Don’t you find fruit bad for the digestion, Mrs. Braxton?”

Juleah shifted in her chair and stood. “I cannot say I do.”

“Well, I can, dear lady. I can.” Latterbuck put his hand over his mouth, puffed out his cheeks, and burped.

Through the door walked Seth. “Ah, Constable Latterbuck.” He finished the top button to his waistcoat. “It's about time we met. You ignored my previous request. As fate would have it, Hetty's death drew you to reply. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Never mind, sir. Your good wife provided me with distraction and your girl a plate of food. The time has flown by delightfully.”

Seth glanced at his wife. “Distraction?”

“A hardy meal and a pretty lady does a man's constitution good. A compliment to your good wife, sir.” Latterbuck bowed.

She picked up Latterbuck's plate. “It is not to my credit, Constable, but to Claire's. You should thank her, for she's a better cook than I could ever be.”

Latterbuck pushed out his upper lip and bowed in Claire's direction. “Well, a woman who is pretty as well as a good cook, I imagine has no lack of beaus. Right, Claire?” He rubbed her chin between his greasy forefinger and thumb. She frowned and jerked back.

“We should be off,” he said, squashing on his hat. “Come, Squire. Show me the poor wretch that lies in your woods dead.”

Will had run all the way to town to find Latterbuck and had hitched a ride behind Latterbuck's deputy back to Ten Width. Since he had no horse of his own, he jogged alongside Seth's.

Worried he would exhaust himself, Seth looked down from atop Jupiter at the energetic lad. “You can ride behind me, Will. Or perhaps behind the deputy again.”

Will kept up his pace. “No, sir. A good run does me just fine. It wouldn’t be proper for me to be seated behind you, sir. I don’t mind telling you that oaf probably hasn’t had a proper washing in a year. I can’t stand the smell of him.”

Seth laughed.

When they reached their destination, he dismounted and looped the reins over a branch. Latterbuck slipped from his mount and followed Seth and Will into the woods. His deputy waited beside the horses.

Latterbuck heaved a breath. “What is tied to the tree?”

“My neckcloth,” replied Seth. “I thought it best to mark the spot.”

“Ah, good thinking.” When Latterbuck spied the body, he put on his steel spectacles and placed a dingy handkerchief over his nose. He paused for several minutes, looking but not touching.

“Obviously an accident.” He grunted and turned away.

Stunned by his rapid conclusion, Seth stepped up to him. “How can you say that? It is obvious the woman was murdered. Do not tell me you cannot see it.”

“An accident, sir.” Latterbuck stepped over a thick root that protruded from the ground.

“I’ll have you know there hasn’t been a murder in my district since 1776, the year the Colonies revolted against good King George, God save him. It's always an accident. They leave the tavern intoxicated, or they travel in the dark and fall over a cliff, or wander into the sea. Or like here, they take a shortcut home through the woods, fall, hit their head on a rock, and are found a few days later dead as a doornail. Nay, sir. No murder is done in my district.”

Agitated by Latterbuck's avoidance of the truth, Seth moved in front of him. “I do not agree. Look at her again.”

Latterbuck huffed. “Who appointed you in charge?”

Seth set his mouth and stared hard at Latterbuck. “It doesn’t take much to see what happened to this woman. Look at her face and throat. She's been hit and hit hard. Look at the bruises
on her wrists and arms. Would you not say they are indicative of a struggle? She was fighting back.”

Latterbuck shrugged. “Women easily bruise. Those are but marks from heavy work.”

Seth let out a breath of extreme irritation. “What kind of heavy work would do that? Besides she was a nursemaid, not a farmhand.”

Latterbuck groaned and moved past Seth. “This poor wretch's mortal remains shall be taken to the sexton at the church for burial.”

“That is all you will do?” Seth cried.

Latterbuck turned on him. “Give the poor woman some respect, young sir. She died before reaching elder years and should be given proper treatment. There's nothing more to do.”

Latterbuck turned on his heels and headed for his horse. Once he reached the road, Seth glanced back at Hetty and swore under his breath. “A false witness shall not go unpunished.”

Hearing this, Latterbuck stopped and whirled around. “What was that?”

“Hetty Shanks was a false witness. I can prove it.”

“Go on, not that it matters now.”

In detail, Seth proceeded to retell Latterbuck the sequence of events that led up to his conversation with Mave. “Captain Bray was with me when we stopped at Hetty's cottage. The door was left unlocked and she was gone.”

“Many folks leave their doors unlocked. It's nothing unusual.”

“We followed footprints in the mud until they trailed off, one being that of a man, the other of a woman, and there were hoof marks as well.”

“Ah, Hetty had a sweetheart.” Latterbuck smiled cynically.

“Yes, so it seems.”

“A name?”

“I do not know, only that he was a large fellow.”

“Look here, young lad, let me deal with this. I’ll go to her cottage and have a look around. But you must rein in your urge to do my job.”

“It would give me ease if you saw this for what it is, Constable.”

Latterbuck shook his head. “I’ve been doing this job for twenty-five years. I know the difference between a murder and an accident. As for the former events you’ve unfolded, I see no reason to go into it any further. Sleeping dogs must lie, good sir.”

Seth frowned at Latterbuck. “Sleeping dogs that have committed a crime?”

Latterbuck threw up his hands. “I see no proof of any crime. You must understand, we do things differently compared to wherever it is you are from.”