miss.”
“I really don’t know what to tell you,” Madeline admitted. “We watched the fireworks and then it started to rain, so we ran into the greenhouse. Drew—Mr. Farthering was going to get me a raincoat from the pile there, but when we looked at them, we found . . .” She bit her lip. “We found Mr. Lincoln.”
“And you knew Mr. Lincoln, did you?”
“Not really. I met him tonight. At the party.”
“But you recognized him when you saw him there? In the greenhouse?”
She shook her head rapidly, closing her eyes as if to block out the gruesome sight. “Not really. His face . . . his head . . .”
She clung to Mrs. Devon, who was stroking her hair, makinglittle soothing noises even as she stared daggers into P. C. Applegate.
Drew knelt by Madeline’s chair once more and took her hand. The poor kid. “Come on, Jimmy. She really didn’t see any more than that.”
Applegate sighed. “All right then, Mrs. Devon. I suppose that will be all.”
“I should say,” Mrs. Devon muttered as she led Madeline up the back stairs.
Drew watched after them until they were out of sight, then turned back to the young constable. “Shall we press on?”
“Right,” Applegate said. “The greenhouse, was it?”
“This way.” Nick hurried to the kitchen door to usher them all out, but Applegate held up his hand.
“Just Mr. Parker and Mr. Farthering, if you please.”
“Don’t be such a stick, Jimmy,” Nick said. “Just one good look, eh? You know you’re just aching to see. Why keep it all to yourself?”
“The chief inspector would never—”
“Oh, let him,” Drew said with an air of sage resignation. “He’ll only badger you until you do anyway.”
“I will,” Nick confirmed.
Applegate looked heavenward and heaved a great sigh. “Come on then.”
“You’re a positive ghoul, you know that,” Drew told Nick as they followed the faint light of P. C. Applegate’s torch through the dark garden.
“Evidence, man, evidence. How are we to find the murderer if we don’t see the evidence?”
“The chief inspector will be up here in the morning. You know you’ll never be able to push him about the way you do Jimmy.”
Nick grinned. “That’s why we have to have a look tonight.”
Everything at the scene of the crime was just as Drew and Madeline had left it. The lantern still burned, the air was still thick with the sickly sweet smell of blood, and the body on the floor was still quite dead.
Nick crowded in to look over Applegate’s shoulder as he pulled the soiled mackintosh away from the victim’s mangled head. Then he turned away with a quick intake of breath.
“Too much for you, old man?” Drew asked with a smirk.
Nick gulped. “Not at all. It just doesn’t take me long to look at a dead body.” He gulped again and gave Drew an anemic smile. “He is rather a mess, isn’t he?”
Applegate covered the body again and jotted down a few notes.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Drew, but how is it you know this is Mr. Lincoln?”
Drew thought for a moment. “I suppose I just do. I mean, he’s got Lincoln’s build and fair hair and all. That’s his ring, I’m certain. No gentleman of style would wear such a vulgar thing. Of course, it’s a bit hard to tell one man from another in eveningwear.”
“We’ll have fingerprints taken, naturally,” the constable said. “Is there family we should notify, Mr. Parker?”
“Not that I know of,” Mason said. “His father died three years ago. His mother, some time before that. I don’t believe there were other children.”
“He wasn’t married?”
“I believe there was a Mrs. Lincoln for a short while. Remarried and living in Ibiza now, as I recall.” Mason rubbed his hands together. “I suppose we ought to have Dr. Wallace out. Or the mortuary.”
“We’ve seen to that, Mr. Parker,” Applegate said. “Theyshould be here anytime now to get everything put right. You did say Mr. Lincoln was staying the
“I really don’t know what to tell you,” Madeline admitted. “We watched the fireworks and then it started to rain, so we ran into the greenhouse. Drew—Mr. Farthering was going to get me a raincoat from the pile there, but when we looked at them, we found . . .” She bit her lip. “We found Mr. Lincoln.”
“And you knew Mr. Lincoln, did you?”
“Not really. I met him tonight. At the party.”
“But you recognized him when you saw him there? In the greenhouse?”
She shook her head rapidly, closing her eyes as if to block out the gruesome sight. “Not really. His face . . . his head . . .”
She clung to Mrs. Devon, who was stroking her hair, makinglittle soothing noises even as she stared daggers into P. C. Applegate.
Drew knelt by Madeline’s chair once more and took her hand. The poor kid. “Come on, Jimmy. She really didn’t see any more than that.”
Applegate sighed. “All right then, Mrs. Devon. I suppose that will be all.”
“I should say,” Mrs. Devon muttered as she led Madeline up the back stairs.
Drew watched after them until they were out of sight, then turned back to the young constable. “Shall we press on?”
“Right,” Applegate said. “The greenhouse, was it?”
“This way.” Nick hurried to the kitchen door to usher them all out, but Applegate held up his hand.
“Just Mr. Parker and Mr. Farthering, if you please.”
“Don’t be such a stick, Jimmy,” Nick said. “Just one good look, eh? You know you’re just aching to see. Why keep it all to yourself?”
“The chief inspector would never—”
“Oh, let him,” Drew said with an air of sage resignation. “He’ll only badger you until you do anyway.”
“I will,” Nick confirmed.
Applegate looked heavenward and heaved a great sigh. “Come on then.”
“You’re a positive ghoul, you know that,” Drew told Nick as they followed the faint light of P. C. Applegate’s torch through the dark garden.
“Evidence, man, evidence. How are we to find the murderer if we don’t see the evidence?”
“The chief inspector will be up here in the morning. You know you’ll never be able to push him about the way you do Jimmy.”
Nick grinned. “That’s why we have to have a look tonight.”
Everything at the scene of the crime was just as Drew and Madeline had left it. The lantern still burned, the air was still thick with the sickly sweet smell of blood, and the body on the floor was still quite dead.
Nick crowded in to look over Applegate’s shoulder as he pulled the soiled mackintosh away from the victim’s mangled head. Then he turned away with a quick intake of breath.
“Too much for you, old man?” Drew asked with a smirk.
Nick gulped. “Not at all. It just doesn’t take me long to look at a dead body.” He gulped again and gave Drew an anemic smile. “He is rather a mess, isn’t he?”
Applegate covered the body again and jotted down a few notes.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Drew, but how is it you know this is Mr. Lincoln?”
Drew thought for a moment. “I suppose I just do. I mean, he’s got Lincoln’s build and fair hair and all. That’s his ring, I’m certain. No gentleman of style would wear such a vulgar thing. Of course, it’s a bit hard to tell one man from another in eveningwear.”
“We’ll have fingerprints taken, naturally,” the constable said. “Is there family we should notify, Mr. Parker?”
“Not that I know of,” Mason said. “His father died three years ago. His mother, some time before that. I don’t believe there were other children.”
“He wasn’t married?”
“I believe there was a Mrs. Lincoln for a short while. Remarried and living in Ibiza now, as I recall.” Mason rubbed his hands together. “I suppose we ought to have Dr. Wallace out. Or the mortuary.”
“We’ve seen to that, Mr. Parker,” Applegate said. “Theyshould be here anytime now to get everything put right. You did say Mr. Lincoln was staying the
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