The Grimm Dossier

Chapter 15 - The Justice - Part II

West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
St George
4 November 1898, 12:45 p.m.

Heavy as rumbling rock, the mood descended upon those present in the office. Dr Archer rose, took a step towards the Mayor's desk and his hand slipped under his jacket. Silver gleamed in the dull light of day, climbing above the surface as he held out the flask to the mayor. The man reached for it with trembling fingers and then threw his head back. The prominent Adam's apple bounced up and down at the hearty gulps he took from the flask.

The others present gave him time until he set the bottle down with a quiet thanks and handed it back. The doctor said nothing. He simply screwed the lid down and took his seat again. Then their heartbeats beat ten silent bars, which everyone needed to get themselves in order."Mr Mosten. We are only here to make sure that these incidents are really accidents. But if they are not, the relatives of all three victims deserve justice." Kyle said carefully and this time the man blinked, frowned and wiped his lips with quivering fingers.

"Three?" it then sounded a little harsher from the man and he seemed as if he couldn't follow."Father Ewans, your daughter Miss Mosten and Mister Andrews, Mr Mayor," Baltimore now put in again. His voice too was laced with velvet, honest regret that could not, however, entirely conceal the civil servant and former soldier. The mayor seemed less surprised than perhaps he should have.

"Walter died of blood poisoning," he replied. But the way he said it out loud made it sound somehow out of round, even to him.

"Joseph," Baltimore put in soberly, "Walter was a very robust man. He could carry the big barrels of ale as if they were washed baskets." the beadle said seriously. "We've seen him cut himself with knives, nearly smash his fingers with a meat hammer, and get through the flu epidemic four years ago with only the sniffles. But then he stabs himself on his wife's knitting needles and dies from it. You have to admit that doesn't sound conclusive."

Now Kyle and Dr Archer were also casting glances at each other. So far they had only heard that it had been blood poisoning, but the details had been withheld from them. Stabbed on knitting needles? When they heard it like that, it sounded less and less believable.

"Exactly how much time passed from injury to death?" asked Dr Archer expertly, the studied doctor emerging like a stone blown free of snow by harsh winds. Kyle noticed the doctor turning his gaze to Constable Baltimore instead of the mayor.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that. According to his wife and Elly, he injured himself that evening. According to what they said, he pricked himself and wasn't feeling well soon after. He went to bed earlier than usual and the next morning he was already down with a severe fever. They sent for a doctor, but by the time he arrived in the evening, he had died." the constable said truthfully.

"Such a rapid death in sepsis is rare, but well within the realm of possibility. If it is severe sepsis, it can lead to death within 36 hours. But that would be the extreme case. However, it sounds to me like it wasn't 24 hours in Mr Andrews' case." the doctor pulled out his notebook and recorded the information they had just gained in it.

The mayor was slumped in his chair. His crooked hooked nose had gone sallow. His gaze flitted from one person to the next and behind the exhausted features, you could see the pebbles of thought clicking together. Things you didn't want to think because they were too horrible."There were... Rumours." the man finally breathed and Kyle's gaze immediately latched onto him.

"What kind of rumours?" Kyle tried to sound calm and not like a loaded powder weapon at the ready that had finally been given the spark it needed. The mayor looked to the constable and the latter groaned audibly, then leaned forward and propped his forearms on his thighs as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"They are filthy rumours. And nothing more than that. Gossip among the inhabitants." He said with a serious face. They didn't want to make assumptions without having proof. And yet perhaps it was all necessary to consider, for even the mayor did not seem entirely closed to the idea.

"Well, Elly is a pretty young thing. And Mrs Andrews hasn't been as sociable as she used to be for some time," Baltimore said cautiously. "There was a rumour that Walter was having an affair with Elly. And that his wife would be suitably unhappy about it." He paused for a moment. "After Mr Andrews died so suddenly, there was a rumour that Mrs Andrews was a 'black widow'. She had poisoned her husband out of jealousy."

The village headman reached for the decanter and glass on his table. He looked questioningly at the gentlemen, but none wanted anything. So he only poured himself a refill and downed the contents far too quickly. "But what would that have to do with my Marie? Or the pastor?"Baltimore shook his head. He didn't know the answer to that.

"They're just rumours." he reminded again.

"Finding out any connections is our job," Dr Archer said. The tip of the fountain pen tapped on his notebook, leaving tiny black blobs. Kyle, too, rolled the clues back and forth.

"Were Marie and Elly close in some way? Or is there some other connection?" asked Kyle. It was the first and only thing he could think of. The two young women would have to be about the same age. But the mayor shook his head.

"Elly is very busy at the tavern and my daughter didn't use to stop in there." the mayor quickly dismissed these thoughts.

"Can they think of any other connection? From your daughter to Father, Mr Andrews or any other person?" Kyle continued expertly with the questions, as if he had done nothing but interrogate people all his life.

But again, both the mayor and the constable shook their heads.

Kyle glanced at the doctor, who looked back. They were both thinking about the thing in the forest, the bird, the spell...

"To find out if Mr Andrews was poisoned, I would have to examine his body." the doctor finally spoke the result of all the ends of their thoughts, bringing them together at one point. But now the constable's and the mayor's eyes went to him in bewilderment.