The Secret of Hollyfield House by Jude Bayton (first ebook reader TXT) 📕

deeply, only stopping at the sound of carriage wheels out in the yard. He drew back and gave me a lingering look. “Come through to the kitchen. I have made tea. Victor will let himself in.”

I followed Dominic down the hall, my mind conflicted by his attentions.

When Victor LaVelle joined us in the kitchen, I was again struck how much more significant he appeared than most men of his years. He was immaculately turned out, sporting a brown tweed jacket which suited him immensely.

“Good day to you, Jillian.” He sat down at the table and Dominic served the tea and then took a seat. Victor retrieved a small notebook from his pocket and laid it on the table.

“Roger Kemp has arrived in the village. He wishes to call upon you later this afternoon, Jillian. Although it will be distressing, he will ask you about finding Flynn’s body.” He glanced at Dominic. “I collected him from the Kendal train and took him directly to meet Billy. They spoke at length, and though the boy remains distraught, he responded to Roger surprisingly well. Even in his confused state of mind, Billy remains adamant about losing his knife.”

“He has no reason to lie about it, Victor,” Dominic said vehemently. “The knife was Father’s, and he treasured it.”

“Yet he did not mention the loss to you at the time?” Victor stated.

Dominic thought for a moment and then shook his head.

“Damn,” said Victor. He wrote a note on the page. “It would have been better if he had. To establish the knife’s value to the boy, it would have helped if Billy had bemoaned the fact to you back when he initially lost it. From a jury’s point of view, they would expect the boy to be upset and remark upon it being mislaid.”

“Not necessarily,” I interjected. They turned to look at me.

“Many years ago, I lost a beloved brooch given to me by my grandmother. I did not tell my mother for days because I feared she would be disappointed, or even angry with me. It occurs to me that Billy was probably worried what Dominic’s reaction might be.”

Dominic nodded. “Now you say it, Jillian, it makes sense. I do scold Billy for losing things because it happens so frequently. Usually, it’s a tool from the shed or something of that nature. But he hates it when I am cross with him. No wonder he kept it a secret.”

Victor pursed his lips for a moment and then smiled at me. “Jillian, you raise a good point. I’ll pass it onto Kemp. If it goes to trial, he will need to know how to coax the boy into explaining his not wanting to let Dominic down by the loss of a family heirloom.”

Dominic’s face fell. “Dear God, I can’t imagine my brother on the witness stand. He will be petrified. His testimony might even make the situation worse than it already is.”

“Then you must prepare him,” I said enthusiastically. “Billy will be the better for it if you can get him used to the idea. Repetition will ease his fears.”

Victor nodded. “She is right. ‘Tis an excellent suggestion. You should see the boy as often as they will allow.” He finished off his tea. “Now, the next question I have, Dominic. Did you search through Billy’s things as I asked?”

“Yes. After Constable Bloom was finished in his room, I looked at everything.” He frowned. “What I don’t understand is why Billy had Flynn’s wallet. He is no thief, but a scavenger. Billy collects things he finds in the woods, broken things or colourful objects, items you or I would easily disregard. But he has no material interest in anything, except animals. He gets his pocket money each week, and unless he buys buns or something sweet, he saves it up in a jar on the shelf to buy plants or treats for the livestock. This entire situation is too hard to absorb. Everything Billy is accused of is completely out of character.” Dominic rose and retrieved a box sitting next to the stove. “This is Billy’s box of special things he’s found. I might add, the wallet was not discovered here, but tucked underneath his mattress, which is odd. There isn’t much to speak of in the box, but there is one item I found curious.”

Dominic placed a small wooden crate on the table. It was full of bric-a-brac which he began to remove. A ball of string, bird feathers tied together, a small leather pouch of stones and what looked like an old doll. There was also a sheaf of papers. They were of different sizes and shapes, bound together with a thin string of ribbon. Dominic took these and placed them next to the box. He untied the bow and then picked up the top page to show to Victor and sat back down.

It was a small scrap, torn at the edges and dirty. But the writing was still distinct. Victor took the paper and brought it close to read.

“Hmm,” he said after a moment with a glance at us both. “It appears to be part of a letter from someone.” He squinted, and then passed it to me. “Here Jillian. Your eyes are far younger than mine.”

I studied the writing. It was poor, but legible. “Have you read this yet, Dominic?”

“Yes, but you look at it and see if we draw the same conclusion.”

I read aloud that which I could decipher. “‘I saw you in’—the rest of that sentence is missing. The next line says—‘against nature’—and then—‘on Tuesday at four, by the boathouse or else’.” I glanced up at Dominic. “What do you make of it?”

“Well,” he said. “We agree on what was written, though it’s anyone’s guess what it actually means.”

“Against nature conjures up several possibilities,” Victor spoke as though still in deep thought. His hand rubbed his chin. “It depends on what the definition is referring to. An action? A behaviour? Cruelty? It could be anything.”

“Yes, but whoever wrote this