Mr. Honeycutt eyed Colin closely as he took another puff on his pipe and shifted his gaze to me. “Well, I ain't never 'eard a either of ya.”
“George . . . ?”
A familiar female voice piped up from behind me and I turned to face a short, heavyset woman in a long, straw-colored skirt with a white apron covering a fair amount of it as well as the faded blue blouse she was wearing. Her dark brown hair was pulled beneath a similarly hued blue scarf, and her broad face was pinched in a look of worry as she stared at the three of us.
“Wot are you doin' out 'ere?” Mr. Honeycutt mumbled as he took another match to his pipe and pulled in another drag before setting it down on top of the fencepost again.
“These men said they wanna talk ta me.”
George Honeycutt flicked his eyes at us and twisted his face with displeasure. “Why you botherin' 'er? She weren't even out there with me this mornin'. She don't know nothin'.”
“I was hoping to get some information about Miss O'Dowd from your wife,” Colin answered, speaking slowly and carefully as though talking to simpletons. I only hoped the Honeycutts would not realize the tone of his voice. “A critical part of figuring out who might have wanted to hurt her is to discover something of who she was.”
“She were a slag,” Mr. Honeycutt barked as he shot a glob of yellowed phlegm to the ground.
“
George Honeycutt!
” his wife gasped, her hazel eyes telegraphing her embarrassment, though I noticed she did not correct him.
“I heard she'd been spending particular time with your eldest son,” Colin pressed ahead.
“Edward's an arse,” Mr. Honeycutt grumbled.
“Now, you stop,” his wife scolded, taking a step forward even though she still remained some distance from her husband. Nevertheless, George Honeycutt reached back for his pipe and set himself to smoking it rather than speaking further. “Our Edward is a good lad,” she continued. “Ask anybody. But when he started seein' Miss O'Dowd . . .” Her eyes shifted away as she said the name. “Well, she weren't who we was thinkin' would be 'avin' our grandbabies. She were nice enough and all, but she never struck me as the type who'd be 'appy settlin' down.” Her husband grunted caustically and it earned him another scowl from his wife. “But ain't none of us ever wished that poor girl any 'arm.”
“Of course.” Colin shook his head, the wisp of an edge seeping into his tone just the same. “And we appreciate your honesty. Does your son know how you felt about Miss O'Dowd?”
“Me 'usband tends ta speak 'is mind,” Mrs. Honeycutt responded with a flush as her husband banged his pipe against the fencepost, knocking the spent tobacco to the ground. It did not appear to me that he cared in the least what his wife was saying about him.
“What time was it when you found Miss O'Dowd's body this morning?” Colin looked back at him.
He gave a slight shrug. “ 'Bout five thirty, I guess. We was just gettin' started.”
“Which son was with you?”
Mr. Honeycutt glanced at his wife with a look that seemed almost defiant. “Me second oldest. David. The 'elpful one.”
“You stop that, George,” his wife admonished once again.
“Ach . . .” He waved her off. “You mollycoddle Eddie. It's yer fault 'e's soft.”
“ 'E ain't soft,” she shot back defensively as she tossed a quick look at Colin and me, embarrassment and a hint of anguish evident behind her eyes. “ 'E's jest mad 'cause Edward don't wanna work on this farm 'is 'ole life. 'E 'elps Mr. Chesterton out at the Pig and Pint. That man's been right good ta our boy.”
“I got work ta do,” Mr. Honeycutt groused as he turned and started for the barn.
“One last question,” Colin called after him. “Did you or your son approach or touch Miss O'Dowd's body before you sent for the constable?”
Mr. Honeycutt turned and stared back at us with disdain. “Now why in 'ell would we do that?” He shook his head and spit again before continuing into his barn.
Colin allowed a thin sigh to escape as he turned to Mrs. Honeycutt. “Is Edward at home? Might we have a word with him?”
She shook her head. “ 'E's gone ta town ta do some marketin' with one a 'is sisters.” Her face looked drawn and pained. “ 'E's a good boy. George gets 'isself outta sorts, but our Edward is a good boy.”
Colin gave her a smile that held no subterfuge. “I'm sure he is. You mustn't trouble yourself. These are only questions.”
“I jest want ya to know that wotever 'appened ta that poor Miss O'Dowd ain't got nothin' ta do with any of us. We're a good family. A God-fearin' family.”
“Please . . .” Colin tried again to reassure her as he began to sidle back toward the front of the house. “I am not trying to accuse anyone in your family of anything. I am only seeking information to make certain that the right person pays for this most egregious crime.”
“Yes . . . of course . . .” she mumbled, her expression solemn as she broke from our side and headed back toward the house. “Thank you,” she added with little conviction. She disappeared inside as we continued to the wagon where Mr. Chesterton remained stretched out in the afternoon sun.
“That was curious,” Colin said softly before we reached the wagon. “I couldn't tell whether she was actually trying to convince us or herself.”
CHAPTER 9
T
he three of us were silent on our ride back to Dalwich, which I found odd as I knew Colin had to be anxious to pepper Raleigh Chesterton with further questions. The sun had begun to stretch past the treetops and the shadows on the ground were lengthening, all of which served to make my stomach start clamoring for supper as it reminded me that we had never stopped for any sort of lunch. Only when we started clattering down Dalwich's one cobbled main road did Colin finally stretch his legs out and ask, in the most perfunctory way, “Mr. Honeycutt seems rather sour on his son Edward.”
“George don't give 'alf a shite about that boy a 'is. It's 'cause Edward's so smart. How on me dead mum's arse George Honeycutt ever managed ta produce a son like that I'll never bloody know.” Mr. Chesterton shook his head. “He favors his boy David 'cause the two a them ain't got the sense of the chickens they're always mucking with.”
I caught a grin tugging at the corner of Colin's lips before he quickly collected himself and pushed on. “Mr. Honeycutt also showed little kindness when speaking about Miss O'Dowd. . . .”
“Feck George Honeycutt,” Raleigh Chesterton snapped as he guided the wagon around behind the inn to a small stable shared by several of the nearby establishments. “He's a right sorry cur. If you're gonna listen ta everything that pox says, you can go stay at his house instead a here.” He hopped down and began untethering his horse.
“My apologies . . .” Colin held up his hands with a smirk as we both climbed out and headed for the back of the inn. “I'm only trying to learn as much as I can about Miss O'Dowd. To see who might have wanted to cause her harm.”
“Then you oughta take a ruddy look at George Honeycutt. And he has the temper ta do somethin' stupid when he's got a bellyful a ale in him. I've tossed his potted arse outta me pub plenty a times.” And having so slandered the reputation of the man he had just taken us to see, Raleigh Chesterton yanked his horse into the stable and disappeared from view.
“I rather like that a person always knows where he stands with Mr. Chesterton,” Colin muttered as I followed him in through the Pig and Pint's rear entrance.
“Of course
you
would like that,” I taunted with a laugh. He peered back over his shoulder as we passed through the hallway and into the main part of the pub, where young Constable Brendle was to meet us at half past the hour. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, it hardly seems to me that you could be accused of filtering your opinions.”
“What would be the point in it?” he answered back as he sat at a table near where we'd been the night before.
“And this from the son of a diplomat,” I chuckled.
Colin shot me a surly glance with one eyebrow cocked toward the ceiling. “I do wish we'd had the opportunity to speak with Edward Honeycutt,” he sniffed, letting me know he was quite done with my jibbing. “The young man is bound to be our primary suspect at this point.”
“Primary suspect?!” I repeated with surprise. “How can you possibly have determined Edward Honeycutt to be the primary suspect if we haven't even met him yet?”
“Because,” he answered slowly, continuing to stare at me, “when there are lovers involved, it can be nearly impossible for one not to assault the other when there are quarrelsome personal judgments bandied about.” He leaned back with a self-satisfied smile and waved at the auburn-haired barmaid, Annabelle White.
“Oh, fine . . .” I grumbled as the young woman approached us carrying a tray full of empty mugs.
“Gentlemen.” She spoke softly and her face was understandably somber with a pain behind her eyes that looked ready to erupt in an instant.
“Miss White . . .” I spoke up first, assuming Colin would have no memory of her name. “You have our deepest condolences on the death of your friend Miss O'Dowd.”
“ 'Tis a tragedy,” she said with the swipe of a hand against her eyes. “She never 'urt no one and I'll never understand 'ow someone could do such a thing. I 'ope ya 'ang the bastard by 'is bits when ya catch 'im.”
“Were you and Miss O'Dowd very close?” Colin asked.
“We was like sisters. She were always lookin' out fer me. I don't know 'ow I'm gonna get along without 'er.” She dropped her head into her free hand and began to sob, so I gently removed the tray from her other hand to give her a moment to collect herself.
“Here now . . .” Raleigh Chesterton's voice bellowed as he came stalking over from the back of the pub. “Yer gonna drive me customers out if ya start slobberin' all over the bloody place.” He turned the young woman about and shooed her from our table. “Git yerself right or go home. I ain't payin' ya to make everybody feel worse than they already do.” He took the tray out of my hands and glared at us. “Ya want somethin' ta drink?”
Colin flashed a tight grin. “Could we just have some tea?”
Mr. Chesterton screwed up his face. “Suits me fine, but ya ain't gettin' any a that tiny shite food ta go with it. Ya want somethin' ta eat, ya gotta order dinner.”
“That'll be all we need until after we finish speaking with the constable,” Colin informed him.
“What are you serving tonight?” I asked, unable to help myself since my stomach had already begun to rumble its displeasure at the very thought of having to wait longer.
“Hell if I know,” he shot back before heading off with Annabelle White's tray in one hand.
“This day . . .” Colin heaved a sigh and settled back in his chair. “Those blasted monks continue to exasperate me.”
“Colin . . .” I scolded, fearful that someone at a neighboring table might hear him.
“It's true.” His eyes flashed his annoyance. “I feel like I have to watch every word I say and now I'm forbidden to even flip my coin to settle my thoughts.” He seized a crown from his coat pocket and held it up like a talisman. “Who knew this ridiculous metal disc could cause such a ruddy furor with those blastedâ”
“
Colin!
” I hissed again. “Mind yourself or we're liable to be run from Dalwich like a pair of heretics.”
“They wouldn't dare,” he groused as he ran a hand through his tawny hair while continuing to finger his coin with the other. Colin looked as though he was about to say something else when he suddenly seized the coin and leaned toward me. “Be discreet,” he whispered under his breath, “but turn around and see who we are about to get an unexpected visit from.”
It was all I could do not to spin my head around, but I convinced myself I was the very definition of discretion as I feigned a yawn, stretching my arms out, and casually glanced back over my shoulder. While my actions earned me a snicker from Colin I still caught a glimpse of round, craggy Raleigh Chesterton standing by the kitchen door pointing toward the two of us as he spoke into the ear of a tall, handsome young man with a build nearly as solid as Colin's. I could not discern his exact age given that he had a close-cropped brown beard covering his steely jawline, but I guessed he had likely not yet reached his thirties.
“Am I supposed to know who that is?” I asked as I straightened up again.
“That was quite a performance,” he chuckled.
“You aren't funny.”
“Here he comes,” he announced under his breath, his enthusiasm contagious. “Now see if you can't spot his mother's coloring and the angularity of his father's face.”
Not a moment later a strong male voice asked, “Mr. Pendragon. . . ?”
I studied the young man's face as casually as I could, and as I did so, I could see exactly what Colin had meant about the similarity of this young lad to his parents.
“Edward Honeycutt.” Colin stood and shook his hand.
“Yes, sir,” he answered as I also stood to introduce myself. While he was an exceptionally handsome young man, there was not the least hint of joy or mischief upon his face. Rather, this was a person whose profound sorrow was as obvious as the color of his hazel eyes.
“Please sit down, Mr. Honeycutt,” Colin urged, nearly foisting him into a chair to avoid any possibility he might decline. “I cannot tell you how aggrieved we are by the murder of Miss O'Dowd. Please be assured that your willingness to present yourself to us now is a testament to your great affection for her and will only help Mr. Pruitt and me to make a hasty end to this horrendous event.”
“I did not come here to accommodate you, Mr. Pendragon,” Edward said, his voice every bit as lost as the expression on his face, “but rather to keep myself busy and away from my family.”
“And why exactly would that be?” Colin asked, though we both knew the answer.
“My da did not like Mo. Even now he chides me for my sorrow and I find that I would rather be here, working for Mr. Chesterton, than staying at home around him.”
“It is a terrible thing that your father's manner has contributed to your grief,” Colin remarked darkly. “For what it is worth, I do believe most parents mean well. . . .”
“That may be true of the Pendragons,” Edward answered at once, “but it is not so of the Honeycutts.”
“Your mother feels likewise, does she?”
“My mum has five children under thirteen and four above. She does not have time to consider anything my da has not told her.”
“Of course,” Colin nodded as though he too had suffered anything like the same sort of umbrage in his youth. “And to what did your father claim to object?”
Edward dropped his gaze and his brow furrowed slightly, though no lines could crease his youthful forehead. “I have attended more school than anyone else in my family ever has,” he explained with neither pride nor boastfulness. “He would have you believe that I should be betrothed to one of the royals. Never mind that he wishes me to take over that stupid bloody farm of his. . . .” His eyes flashed hotly as he stared up at us, a mixture of fury and heartache battling for ascendance. “But I
loved
her. We were going to be married and go to London so I could get a proper job. Make something of myself . . .” He dropped his chin and I could tell by the shaking of his shoulders that he had begun to cry.
Colin gripped my nearest thigh and when I glanced over at him I saw that he had paled, his lips stretched into a line so thin that it looked like he might lose them completely. Without a word I slid out of my chair and moved behind Edward Honeycutt, dropping a hand onto his shoulder and squeezing it in hopes that he might understand that I knew what he was feeling. To my surprise, he quite suddenly turned in his seat and flung his arms about my waist, burying his face in my abdomen with a pitiful moan. I dropped my hand onto his back as a lump grew in my throat and the sting of tears bristled in my own eyes. “Edward. . .” I forced myself to say even though his name crackled in my throat. “Come with me.”
He untangled himself at once and stood up, allowing me to clutch his elbow lightly as I led him to the rear of the pub. I did not permit myself to glance back at Colin as Edward and I made our way amidst the hooded gazes of the other patrons, fearing that I might fail to maintain my own restraint if I did not get us both out of there at once. I walked him down the short corridor, past the narrow staircase that led to the rooms on the second floor, and out the back. The cool evening air struck me as soon as we stepped outside, caressing my face, recharging my resolve, and settling the flux of emotions that had threatened to undo me a moment ago. To my relief, it seemed to have the same effect on Edward.
“I'm so sorry,” he mumbled as he pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed it across his face before blowing his nose. “I have made a spectacle of myself.”
“You have done no such thing,” I said and meant it. “You are fortunate enough to have loved someone well and been loved in return. There is no shame in that. It is we who owe you an apology. We should have been more sensitive to what you have been through this day. Sometimes Mr. Pendragon and I think only of the outcome with no thought to the journey along the way. I hope you will forgive
us
.”
“Your efforts are only to solve this godforsaken crime and I can find no fault in that.” He wiped at his eyes again before managing the thinnest of grins. “You will forgive me if I do not return to your table with you tonight?”
“I would not have it,” I answered at once. “Go back to your work. Go for a walk if you will, but we will not pester you for anything more today.”
“You're very kind, Mr. Pruitt,” he said, stuffing his handkerchief back into his pocket and sticking out his hand. “I do apologize again if I have embarrassed you.”
I looked into his handsome, young face with those grief-stricken eyes, his torment as palpable as the breeze rustling through my hair, and reached out and took his arm. “If I am ever embarrassed by the suffering of another, then I will know I have lived too long.” I stepped back from him. “Good evening, Edward,” I added, and withdrew to the door.
The pub smelled of stew and ale and lamb as I exited the little hallway for the second time that evening and started back toward the table where Colin had remained. I noted at once that things had changed in my brief absence. Not only were there two overflowing mugs of ale at our table, but Constable Brendle had finally arrived.
“Here . . .” Colin said as he pushed one of the ales toward me once I had settled in again. “I thought you could use this.”
“I won't turn it away,” I said with what I could muster of a grin before taking a sip and enjoying the bitter tang of it as it crossed my lips and burbled down my throat. It seemed to lessen the mantle of distress that had descended upon me and I felt my shoulders and head begin to relax. No wonder I had found such indulgences, both liquid and inhaled, so compelling in my youth.