“I frequently go down to the water meadows at dawn,” he said when asked what he was doing by the river that morning. “It’s a fine place to watch for birds. I’m very interested in birds, you see.”
Sebastian found himself sitting forward on his bench, his gaze on the boy’s smooth, sun-browned face. They’d been wondering why Emma Chance’s killer had staged her suicide at that particular spot. Now Sebastian found himself wondering whether it was possible the murderer had known young Bonaparte planned to visit the river that morning. Had he hoped the boy would be the one to stumble upon the body?
The idea seemed both preposterous and yet, somehow, possible. But who would do such a thing? And why?
“At first, I thought she was simply having a rest,” Charles was saying, “It seemed a bit strange, given the hour, but, well, people sometimes do strange things. I said good morning to her, but she didn’t answer. And then I saw an ant crawl across her face, and that’s when I realized she might be dead. So I ventured to take a closer look, and when I touched her hand, she was cold. So I ran to the Grange and told Squire Rawlins.”
Nash glanced over at Fowler, but the coroner had no more questions. The boy was released.
Archie took the witness stand last, to describe in detail the position of the dead woman’s body at the time of discovery.
“Any indication the corpse had been moved after death?” asked Fowler.
“There was, yes, sir. The paths to that part of the river were still muddy from a recent rain, you see, even though the roads had all dried. Yet there was no mud on her half boots. So she must have been killed someplace else and brought there.”
“But you’ve no idea where precisely she was killed?”
“No, sir.”
Fowler sank his chin into his cravat and scowled at the young magistrate. “And that’s it? You’ve no more witnesses? No suspect to be held in gaol to answer for the offense?”
A muscle bunched along the side of Archie’s jaw. “No, sir.”
The coroner gave a loud, derisive snort and nodded his dismissal.
“Well,” said the coroner, adopting a loud, formal tone and pressing himself back in his seat with his hands wrapped around the chair’s threadbare arms. “It is obvious we’re dealing with a homicide. But the question is, homicide in which degree? In light of the medical testimony given, a verdict of felo-de-se must be ruled out. Yet that still leaves murder, manslaughter, justifiable homicide, and homicide by misadventure. Without more evidence”—here he paused to cast a withering glance at Archie Rawlins—“we’ve no way of knowing if the homicide was committed with malice and forethought, or accidently by one simply endeavoring to keep the victim quiet, or in some other way entirely which eludes us. Of course,” he added, his gaze now fixed on the jury, “I am giving you my own personal judgment and not directing you, for the finding and verdict of this inquest are yours; my duty is simply to take and record it. But under the circumstances, I see no reason to order a recess. Mr. Foreman, how do you find Emma Chance came to her death and by what means?”
The foreman’s eyes widened. After an instant’s startled silence, the jurors took to murmuring amongst themselves. Then the foreman pushed awkwardly to his feet and said, “We find the lady came to her death by being smothered, yer honor—like the good doctor says. But by whom or with what intent, we’ve no notion.”
Fowler nodded. “The clerk will draw up your verdict in legal form for you to sign.” He flicked his bent hands before him in a kind of sweeping motion. “Now, Constable; get this body out of here and bring in the next one. And you’ll need to reswear the jury too, so be quick about it.”
The inquest into the death of Hannibal Pierce preceded much as had Emma Chance’s, except that, due to the nature of his fatal wound, the major’s body was displayed in all its naked, well-muscled, bloody glory. Because his cause of death was obvious and known to all, Archie had spared the purses of the county’s ratepayers by declining to order a postmortem. Sebastian gave his testimony as witness to the shooting. The information about Pierce’s ties to Charles, Lord Jarvis, he kept to himself.
He was followed by those who had rushed to the scene after Pierce was shot. Then, when the constable tried to call Higginbottom again, the coroner glared at the doctor and hissed, “Sit down. We don’t need your testimony. Any fool can see how he died.”