They fell silent, contemplating April Duprey’s last moments on earth. She hadn’t been tortured like Jane Doe, but she’d felt terror, hunted down like a wild animal.
Rebecca shivered, and pushed away her half empty plate. “Pray God that Mr. Kelly will get the name of the madman from the Unfortunate Women at the academy.”
The Duke picked up his teacup and gave Kendra a curious look. “Miss Donovan, you said something else earlier about beetles and spiders helping you determine how long the poor creature was left in the woods. I would like an explanation.”
Kendra had forgotten her comment, and now felt the weight of history pressing against her again. What to say? What not to say?
“Miss Donovan?” he prodded gently when she remained silent.
“There was actually a case in China—the thirteenth century,” she finally said. That, at least, seemed safe to share. “When a villager was found in his field stabbed to death, the authorities determined the murder weapon was a sickle. They confiscated all the sickles from the victim’s neighbors and observed how blowflies were attracted to one particular sickle. Even though the killer had wiped the blade, microscopic bits of blood and soft tissue were still on it—enough to attract blowflies.”
“Why, how terribly clever!” Rebecca exclaimed.
“I am familiar with Francesco Redi’s experiments, which proved that insects are attracted to decomposing flesh, as opposed to the Aristotelian abiogenesis theory, which purported spontaneous birth of maggots in decaying meat.” The Duke nodded, and gave her a look. “I am not familiar, however, that Redi’s experiments ever determined time of death.”
Kendra stifled a sigh. Sometimes she wished the Duke wasn’t so damn shrewd. Did she give them information that shouldn’t be around for another forty years, when a French physician began using insect life cycles to determine time of death? Could that screw up the whole space-time continuum?
She pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed again. Fuck it. “No one can give you the exact time of death. But as a general rule of thumb, beetles will arrive after twenty-four hours. Spiders later, since they feed on other insects. She was still in full rigor mortis and hadn’t suffered too much discoloration yet—although that’s the most imprecise measurement to determine time of death.”
“I see. And as there were no beetles or spiders . . .”
“She was killed some time yesterday. And since we have a witness who says the path was clear last night around eleven o’clock, I’d say she was killed, stashed somewhere, and then dumped later. It gives us a window of time. We have our list of suspects. Now we have a new question to ask—where were they yesterday afternoon? I hope you have more calling cards, Your Grace. We’re going to need them.”
40
Unlike yesterday, Morland wasn’t smiling when he came into the drawing room. His expression was shuttered, his eyes wary. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Miss Donovan. Is this a social call, or another inquisition?”
Kendra suspected there’d be no offer of tea this time, either. “There’s been another murder,” she told him bluntly.
He raised his eyebrows. “Another light-skirt in the lake?”
“No. This woman was found in the forest, along a public path. She wasn’t murdered there, but was dumped sometime after eleven last night and before seven this morning.”
“How the devil can you deduce that?”
Kendra ignored the question. “Where were you during those hours, my Lord?”
Morland’s mouth tightened. He was over the shock of being questioned, but not the insult. “I was in bed. Alone.”
“What about during the day?”
“I seem to remember that you came to call,” he said dryly.
“We arrived after two. Tell us where you were before that—and after we left.”
Morland looked at the Duke. “Really, sir, must we go through this again?”
“I apologize, but it is necessary.”
“Very well.” Morland gave a put-upon sigh. “I spent most of the morning in my study, attending to correspondence that I’d been putting off. After my noon meal, I went riding. I viewed several of my tenant properties. I certainly was not out murdering a bawd, Miss Donovan.”
Kendra decided to overlook the sarcasm. “Did you meet anyone? Or see anyone?”
“No one. I returned home, then you arrived. After you departed, I . . .” Here, he fumbled slightly. “I spent some time calming my mother. I spent the rest of the afternoon in my study, with my land steward. As you know, I attended the countess’ ball last evening.”
“I am aware.” The Duke nodded.
“Did you know an April Duprey?” She watched him carefully. If he knew the name, she couldn’t tell by his expression, which remained coldly hostile.
“No. Who is she?”
“Someone who misjudged a situation.”
“That is a rather enigmatic answer, Miss Donovan.”
“It’s all I can give you right now. Can you give us a list of the tenants you visited yesterday during your ride?”
“I told you that I saw no one.”