Page 22 of The Rum and The Fox

Chapter 10

A bugaboe - A sheriff’s officer

- The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose.

Constable Greenly regarded the man before him with an air of deep suspicion. The intelligence just put into his hands was undoubtedly something that his superior would want to be informed of immediately. Yet having had the misfortune as to wake Inspector Formby in the early hours of the morning on a previous occasion with what turned out to be a wild goose chase, Greenly decided that a bit of caution and a little more information was required.

“How d’you know ‘e’s dead?” Greenly demanded, narrowing his eyes at the rather gaunt man before him.

“Well, the bloody great hole in his chest was something of a giveaway,” the fellow before him replied, deadpan.

“’Ere, don’t you get cheeky with me,” Greenly replied, with as much patience as anyone was entitled to past midnight. “It’s me who’ll ‘ave to go an’ wake the inspector, and I want to know the bloke is good and dead afore I trouble meself to do so.”

“He’s dead, all right,” the man said, glowering at him and looking none too pleased about it either.

“Well, that’s all right then,” Greenly said, with dignity, and went away to wake his superior.

***

Mr Formby stared down at the crumpled figure of Viscount Rennard and felt none of the satisfaction his sergeant might have expected him to feel. That a violent and unpleasant man had been removed from the society was certainly something he could find pleasure in, but that he had not been the instrument of its coming about … that rankled.

The man was slumped in front of the fireplace and the cause of death only too apparent. Formby inspected the body and looked around the room for the fifth time, his greying brows drawn together so hard that his eyes felt the weight of them. He sighed and relaxed his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and then looking up as young Greenly came in.

“Well?” Formby demanded.

“According to Mrs Richards next door, shots were heard around nine thirty, sir,” Greenly said, looking down at a notebook. “She’s keen to tell me that she don’t stick her nose into anyone else’s affairs, though, and wouldn’t say much. Strict religious, she is,” the constable added, looking a little uncomfortable. “Kept quoting scriptures at me, and seemed to think Lord Todd was a devilish fellow. Live by the sword, die by the sword; blimey, if she said it once, she said it ten times.” Greenly rolled his eyes, but the inspector nodded in agreement.

“I’m with her on that one,” he said with a snort.

The constable rubbed the back of his neck, staring back at his notes. “Only other thing I could get from her was that she saw two women running from the house a half hour or so before the shots were fired. And I have three witnesses that saw a man hurrying away from the house, though one of them’s a tad bosky, to say the least,” he added with a frown.

“Description?”

Greenly gave him a look of disgust and shrugged. “Not much to go on. Great coat with a fair few capes, and a hat obscured his face. Average height. They thought he was a young fellow on account of the way he moved, but nothing further than that as yet.”

Formby nodded.

“Next of kin?” he said, feeling the frown settle on his face once more as he looked down on the late viscount’s mortal remains.

“Yes, sir, the daughter I told you about. Apparently she’s missing, along with her maid. Mrs Richards said she couldn’t swear it was them running from the house earlier in evening, as she only saw their backs, but she thought it likely.”

Formby nodded. “I want her found immediately, get onto it.” That line of enquiry was bound to be fruitful. “Anyone else work here?”

“Only the fellow what reported the murder, sir,” Greenly said, flicking back through his notebook; “Chap by the name of Snyder, Martin Snyder. The late Lord Todd’s valet, by all accounts. Said he was asleep in his bed, as Todd had dismissed him for the evening, but came down when he heard the shots. Though ‘e’s a right shifty devil, if you ask me.”

“And I’ll be sure to do so, if I want your opinion,” Formby replied, his tone dry. His constable grew a little red about the ears before giving a stiff nod and retreating, leaving the inspector to cogitate in peace.

He remembered the names and faces of people who had fallen foul of Rennard in the past, and wondered if any of them were capable of such an act. There were a number of people to consider, that was for certain, though to his knowledge none of them were in Bath at this moment, but that would need a thorough investigation.

The fact was, a man like the viscount could have any number of enemies, though the daughter had to be a suspect if she’d run like she had. Just because she’d left didn’t mean she hadn’t come back again. He hoped that wasn’t the case, as he had little difficulty in imagining what her life had been with such a father. Though, of course, she could be every bit as black-hearted and ruthless as her sire. He’d seen enough of the world not to believe a woman couldn’t commit a crime, even one as bloody as murder. The fairer sex could be every bit as formidable as any man.

Nonetheless, Mr Formby could only hope that whoever had done it had a rock solid alibi or was as black hearted as his victim, as right now he felt more like shaking the man’s hand than stringing him up.

But only time would tell.

***

Keziah woke late and groaned as her body took stock of the damage that had been wrought. Despite the vociferous protests of the maid that had been sent to care for her - who insisted the doctor had instructed she stay put - Keziah insisted on getting up and getting dressed.