Beatrice by Rebecca King

sympathetically at her and walked past her.
    Mark
sighed as he squatted down beside the corpse and studied the handle
that protruded from the man’s chest.
    “What
happened yesterday?” Isaac asked as he knelt on the other side of
the body.
    Ben
sighed. “I found Beatrice hobbling along the road after the
carriage had nearly run her over. I brought her back here on my
horse. I stayed to help her with her boot and to wait out the
thunderstorm. I put my horse in the stable beside the house, and am
positive that the body wasn’t here then. I can’t say I really
noticed anything when I left a couple of hours later. It was dark,
you see, and I just didn’t look.”
    He
didn’t add that he had been too busy thinking about Beatrice to
remember much of anything except the way the candlelight had
reflected in the softness of her eyes, and the intimate atmosphere
that had settled over them both during dinner.
    “What
time did you leave?” Mark asked quietly.
    Beatrice
sat on the rockery wall; close enough to hear them yet far enough
so that she didn’t have to look at the body.
    Ben
looked at Mark, then Isaac. “I left here about ten o’clock. Mrs
Partridge went to her friend’s house after church, and stayed there
until the rain eased enough for her to come home. She got back here
about four o’clock and made dinner while Beatrice and I were busy
in the study. After dinner, I left.”
    Mark
looked at Beatrice. “Apart from the carriage, there was nothing
else untoward happen that you noticed?”
    Beatrice
and Ben shared a look but, before they could reply, Isaac
spoke.
    “He
doesn’t look familiar to you at all?” Isaac glanced at Beatrice
expectantly.
    “I have
never seen him before,” Beatrice replied.
    “Me
neither,” Ben added.
    “I don’t
think he is familiar with us,” Isaac muttered with a sigh and began
to rifle through the dead man’s pockets in search of
clues.
    Aside
from a set of keys, and a few loose coins, there was nothing in his
pockets; no wallet and no identification of any kind. While Mark
and Isaac studied the body, Fred began to walk backward and forward
along the tree-line, studying the ground as he went.
    Ben felt
a little useless and merely watched them for several long moments
before he turned to Beatrice.
    “Fred,
go and find the doctor, and send for reinforcements to take him to
the mortuary,” Mark nodded to the body at his feet. “We will get
him out of here soon, Beatrice.”
    “Has
there been any sign of a struggle?” Ben asked with a
frown.
    “Doesn’t
look like it,” Isaac muttered as he studied the ground around the
body.
    “There
must have been,” Beatrice sighed and turned around before she could
stop herself. She closed her eyes as soon as she saw the body and
turned her gaze resolutely toward Mark. “I mean; he can’t have just
been walking along and then just accepted being stabbed in the
chest. If someone comes at you with a knife, you would struggle for
your life, wouldn’t you?”
    “Most
people would,” Mark agreed with a sigh. He had to agree with her
theory because the twigs on the trees were unbroken, and the ground
was unmarked by boot prints.
    “Is
there anything else we need to know?” Mark asked, and frowned when
Beatrice and Ben looked cautiously at each other. Sensing there was
something they didn’t want to mention outside, Mark gestured toward
the house. “Shall we?”
    Beatrice
nodded and didn’t bother to look back as she hurried across the
lawn.
    “Stay
with the body until Fred gets back,” Mark ordered Fred before he
followed Ben.
    Once
inside the sitting room, they explained about the plant and led
Mark and Isaac to the study.
    “Good
Lord,” Mark was too polite to mention the smell that came with it,
but saw the wry look on Beatrice face and smiled. Beside him, Isaac
coughed.
    “Do you
think it is supposed to smell like that?”
    “If not,
it’s a science experiment that’s gone horribly wrong for somebody,”
she replied