Vengeance might be the Lord's, but sometimes He needed help.
As he turned away, his gaze fell on the bookshelves lining the walls. Idly, he strolled along them, tracing the spines of volumes here and there, remembered friends. Toward the end of the room, he noticed three volumes jutting out from their shelf. He slid them back in, aligning them. He looked back along the tome-lined wall. How appropriate for Horatio to spend his final hours here, surrounded by his dearest possessions.
He was standing before the long windows, looking out on the garden that so puzzled him, when a discreet cough sounded in the doorway. He turned; a thin, spare man, hunched into his coat, was staring at the coffin. Lucifer left the window. "Covey. Pray accept my condolences. I know how attached you were to Horatio-and he to you."
Covey blinked watery blue eyes. "Thank you, sir. Miss Tallent told me you were here. I regret that it's such a dreadful occasion that sees you with us… again."
"A dreadful business, indeed. Do you have any idea…?"
"None at all. I had no inkling, no reason to suppose…" He gestured helplessly at the coffin.
"Don't blame yourself, Covey-you couldn't have known."
"If I had, it wouldn't have happened."
"Of course not." Lucifer interposed himself between Covey and the coffin. "Horatio wrote to me about some item he'd discovered that he wanted my opinion on. Do you know what it was?"
Covey shook his head. "I knew he'd found something special. You know how he'd get-his eyes all lighting up like a child's? That's how he was for the past week. I hadn't seen him so excited for years."
"He didn't mention anything at all about it?"
"No, but he never did, not with his special finds. Not until he was ready to tell all; then he'd lay all the proofs out on his desk and explain it all to me." A wistful smile touched Covey's lips. "He'd take great delight in that, even though he knew I understood not one word in three."
Lucifer gripped Covey's shoulder. "You were a good friend to him, Covey." He hesitated, then added, "I'm sure Horatio will have made provision for you in his will, but whatever happens, we'll sort something out. Horatio would have wished it."
Covey inclined his head. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate the reassurance."
"One thing. Have any of the other dealers stopped by recently? Jamieson? Dallwell?"
"No, sir. Mr. Jamieson stopped by some months ago, but we've seen no one recently. The master hasn't-hadn't-been so active in dealing since we'd moved south."
Lucifer hesitated. "I imagine I'll be staying at the Grange for the next few days."
"Indeed, sir." Covey bowed. "If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my tidying."
Lucifer nodded in dismissal, wondering who Horatio's heirs would be. He made a mental note to have a word with them regarding Covey's long service and devotion. Returning to the window, he considered Covey's description of Horatio's recent excitement.
If he could understand why Horatio had been killed, he would know who had killed him. The "why" was the key. It seemed possible, even likely, that the "why" was the mysterious item Horatio had discovered; his violent death had followed so soon after the discovery. If the mysterious item was the key, then the murderer might have come from beyond the local area, as Lady Huddlesford insisted was the case. Luckily, they were deep in the country-"outsiders" were noticed. He was sure he'd been noticed, perhaps not in Colyton, but certainly along the way.
Turning, he scanned the room. Horatio might have concealed his latest find in plain sight, amid the treasure trove of his collection.
When Phyllida returned to the drawing room, she found her nemesis examining the halberd responsible for the dent in his skull. He looked at her. "Was it always kept here-behind the door?"
"I understand so."
He studied her, then looked at the axe-head. Raising the halberd, he let it fall to his other hand, watching how the weighted head swung. "I would have thought, if it had fallen or been wielded with intent…"
Then the axe should have cleaved his skull in two. Phyllida didn't want to think about it. "This part here"-she pointed to the rounded side-"was apparently what connected with your head."
"Indeed?" He hefted the weapon fully upright, then looked at her. "How did it fall?"
She met his eyes directly-and said nothing.
He held her gaze, and let the tension stretch.
And stretch…
She lifted her chin. "I have to go to the church to sort out the flowers for the funeral, and then I must speak with the curate. You can stay here, if you like."