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

must have witnessed something,” I said. “And whatever it was, they believed it to be wrong, at least in their eyes.”

“The ‘or else’ sounds ominous,” added Dominic. “And stating a place and time would indicate a meeting wouldn’t it?”

“It would appear so,” Victor agreed. He leaned back in his chair and picked up the scrap of paper. “I think Billy may have stumbled upon something here. But we do not know when or where he found it. So, it may have no bearing on the murder.”

“Then I’ll ask him,” Dominic said, getting abruptly to his feet. “You never know. It might be of significance, don’t you think?” He looked at me and then Victor.

“It is worth you finding out,” I said. And then another idea took hold. “Billy is no killer, but perhaps he saw something he should not have, and maybe he doesn’t even realize it himself. What better way to confuse him than to get him arrested?”

AS I SET OFF BACK HOME, Billy being framed preoccupied my thoughts. To me it seemed a logical explanation, far more plausible than the boy being capable of murder or theft. After all, to commit such a violent act would take a person pushed beyond reason, especially if it was reactionary, or self-defence. But to hide a weapon, and a wallet? That took planning and deviousness. Billy might not be perfect, but the limitations of his condition seemed contrary to someone being premeditative. Yet who would want to frame Billy Wolfe, knowing he might swing for it? The answer was simple—the real villain.

“Dearie me, missy. You’re away with the fairies.” Peggy Nash stood on the pathway, dressed in the same dirty outfit I had seen her wearing previously. I stopped short, and then took an involuntary step back, for fear of the woman’s ‘unique’ odour.

“Hello, Miss Nash.”

“You been at the Wolfe’s then?”

“I have,” I answered, though what business it was of hers I did not know.

“I like ’em boys, ’specially little Billy.” Her comment softened me, for it took a gentle soul to understand someone like Billy Wolfe.

“Billy never stabbed that Flynn. Not Billy. I watched ’im takin’ ’is last breath. An’ I saw with my own eyes that knife sticking through ’is ribs. But it weren’t Billy who stuck it there.”

“What do you mean, Peggy?” My pulse picked up speed. What did this strange woman know?

Her tongue moistened her lower lip, and she gave her sly lopsided grin. “Billy weren’t near the boathouse on yon lake.” She pointed in the general direction of Lake Road. “’Ee were off in the woods lookin’ at the new bunnies. I saw ’im talkin’ to ’em. Then I walked down to the shore an’ there came a mighty splash in t’other direction, over near the boathouse. But it weren’t no fish.” She chuckled.

My mind registered her meaning. She was confirming Billy was not at the murder site, but far away enough to establish his innocence. I stepped towards the woman.

“Peggy. Would you be willing to tell this story to Billy’s solicitor? It would help the boy, for he is in dire trouble.”

Her dirty brow wrinkled. “Dunno ’bout that. I’ll think on it,” she said quietly and turned to leave the way she had come.

My step was quicker as I hastened home. Victor had told me to expect Mr Kemp that afternoon to go over my account of the day I discovered the blacksmith’s body. But now I would be able to tell him so much more. A lightness of spirit surged in my breast, and it took all my willpower not to run all the way back to Wolfe Farm and tell Dominic my news.

“NO. I’M AFRAID HER TESTIMONY will not be enough for them to drop the charges against Billy, Miss Farraday.”

My heart sank. I had eagerly shared Peggy Nash’s conversation with the middle-aged man sitting across from me at the kitchen table. Roger Kemp wore the comfort of his fortune in the cut of a fine tailored suit, crisp white shirt and neat cravat. With the tidy appearance of a military man, he sat with perfect posture, as though he was at attention in our small kitchen.

“But surely she is a prime witness? She can place Billy away from the scene of the murder.”

The older man stroked his neat moustache with a forefinger. “Miss Farraday, I do not doubt the woman believes everything she says. But by your description, if she is thought of as a touch light in the head, her testimony would not be credible. Someone with her reputation would be laughed out of the courtroom. I doubt she would even show up to the trial, let alone be able to cope with being cross-examined.”

I was completely deflated—my excitement at the possibility to prove Billy’s innocence splintered. I allowed my shoulders to sag and I stared glumly at a small mark upon the table.

“Please do not be disheartened, miss,” he said kindly.

I looked up and met his brown eyes. “I cannot help it, Mr Kemp. I feel so badly for the Wolfe family.”

“We have yet to exhaust all our avenues of detection, Miss Farraday. Bear in mind if this Nash person saw Billy, it stands to reason others may have witnessed him in the woods as well. That should be our focus. If we can corroborate her statement with other testimony, we might really be able to get the charges dropped against Billy Wolfe.” Roger Kemp gathered his papers from the table and placed them inside his briefcase. He got to his feet, a tall, solidly built man with the look of a sportsman about him.

He placed his hat atop greying hair and then reached out a hand which I accepted and shook.

“Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to help, Mr Kemp.”

“I will. Thank you. It would be beneficial if you could ask around the village, see if anyone else saw Billy that day? Sometimes information can come from the least expected source.”

“Like Peggy Nash?” I