Chapter Thirty-Six

Staring down at the mess that had been Lady Tarlington, Jarrod shook his head slowly. Death was always a nasty business, but it was especially so when it involved a bullet to the head and rendered the poor lady barely identifiable. A lady who from all accounts had been a beautiful woman.

The poor woman hadn’t had a chance. And from what the gardener had told him, she’d been meeting with their fugitives, the Duchess of Kilmaine and Doctor Alec McGuiness, when she was killed.

Two people who were now wanted for questioning in not one murder but three.

“She’s clearly becoming more mentally unstable as the hours pass.” The inspector’s voice carried through the space as he wandered around the greenhouse and came to stand beside Jarrod.

“Who, the Duchess of Kilmaine?”

“Yes, of course.” The inspector wore a look of belittlement on his face. “She was seen by our men practically standing over the body of the apothecary’s assistant in King Street only an hour ago, and now, poor Lady Tarlington made the mistake of talking with her.” He held a handkerchief to his mouth. “Such a tragedy. If only your men had been able to capture her sooner, this poor lady might still be alive.”

“Well, begging your pardon, inspector, but I don’t know if we should leap to such conclusions just yet.”

“Conclusions?” The man scoffed. “They’re facts, sergeant. What else do you suppose happened? The obvious answer is the duchess has lost her mind and is on a murderous rampage.”

Jarrod had to bite his tongue at the pronouncement. This was one of Scotland’s finest investigators? One of Jarrod’s first-year constables could do a better job of assessing the scene. “With all due respect, sir, the bullet penetrated into the back of Lady Tarlington’s skull, and the glass shards from the windows behind are shattered inward, sir. That would suggest the shooter was outside in the gardens.”

“What of it?” the inspector asked. “Obviously the duchess was outside waiting for her.”

In Jarrod’s opinion, there was nothing obvious about it. “The gardener said he saw the duchess and Doctor McGuiness go into the greenhouse, and several servants who heard the shots said that when they looked out the windows from upstairs, they saw two figures running from the back of the greenhouse. And those two figures were wearing the same clothes as the two people in the apothecary store who my men saw earlier.”

Jarrod waited for the flare of recognition to appear in the inspector’s eyes, but the man was still staring at him blankly.

“That would suggest the duchess and Doctor McGuiness were in the greenhouse when the shots were fired, so they couldn’t have been the ones to shoot Lady Tarlington.”

“Oh, that’s just nonsense, sergeant,” the inspector blasted. “I’ve made my determination. The duchess murdered Lady Tarlington. Case closed.” The man clapped his hands together. “Now I suggest you and your men do all you can to catch the duchess as soon as possible. She will not get away under my watch, or else it will be your head on the chopping block. I do hope I am making myself clear, sergeant?”

Jarrod bowed stiffly. “Crystal, sir. Crystal.”

“Very good. I shall await word of her capture, then, at the station.” The inspector gave Jarrod a curt nod before turning on his heel and marching out of the greenhouse.

A few minutes later, as Jarrod was taking notes in his notebook and conferring with some of his constables, he heard yelling and a ruckus coming from the path leading toward the town house, before Lord Fergus Campbell barged past his officers stationed at the entrance of the greenhouse. The man looked absolutely furious, but Jarrod could also see the fear in his eyes.

“Try to block his view, boys,” Jarrod said to the two officers beside him. He tucked his notebook and pen inside his jacket pocket and strode up to where Fergus was barreling down the path toward him.

Lord Fergus was definitely on the short side, extremely compact, and the man looked very determined. Jarrod braced himself for the impact as he put up his hands and physically grabbed Fergus. “Your grace, you don’t want to see her. I promise you, you don’t.”

“Dammit, man, let me go.” Fergus yelled as he twisted and turned, trying to break free of Jarrod’s grip.

But Jarrod had too many years of experience dealing with men resisting arrest to be fazed or overpowered by the man. Gradually Jarrod pushed him farther backward, strategically navigating him away from the sight of Lady Tarlington’s body. “I shan’t be letting go until you calm down, sir.”

“How dare you,” Fergus blasted. He struggled for a moment further, until suddenly all the fight left him, and his hands fell limply by his sides. His jaw started to clench tightly, and his chest heaved up and down. “It’s true, then? She’s…dead?”

Jarrod let go of him and took a step backward. “Aye, ’tis true, I’m sorry to say.”

Fergus nodded and then continued nodding for a good ten seconds. Jarrod could tell the man was trying to compose himself. Finally, when it seemed he had, he glanced directly at Jarrod. “Did she suffer at all?”

“No. It was quick and painless.”

The man took in a deep, shuddering breath. “That’s good. That’s a good thing. It is a good thing, isn’t it?”

Fergus’s eyes started desperately searching Jarrod’s, a slight sense of panic in their depths. It was an expression Jarrod had seen all too many times. “’Tis a very good thing,” he reassured the man.

“But tell me this,” Fergus began. “Was it my sister-in-law who killed her?”

A question that Jarrod was going to have to weigh his response to, rather carefully, considering the inspector’s view. Because if he was openly going against the inspector’s findings, then he could all but kiss his career goodbye. But then Jarrod had never been politically minded, a fact which often brought him to the attention of his bosses. And not in a good way, either. Still, he had to be truthful. “I don’t think she did.”

“What do you mean, you don’t think she did? If it was not Constance, then who killed her?” The man was starting to get angry again. “Don’t tell me it was Dr. McGuiness?”

“I don’t think it was either of them, actually.”

“I don’t understand,” Fergus said. “I just passed Inspector Johnson, and he assured me that the duchess and Doctor McGuiness would be captured by nightfall for this atrocity. What did he mean by that, if it is as you say that Constance and Alec were not responsible?”

“I appreciate that it may seem they were responsible for her death, however there are several witnesses from your own household who have confirmed that when they heard the first gunshot, they looked out the windows from upstairs and saw someone rustling around in the bushes outside the greenhouse before further gunshots rang out from the same location.”

“It could have been Alec or Connie out there, lying in wait for my Seraphina.”

Good Lord, did all these gentlemen think alike, and make such leaps in their conclusions, too? “After the last shot sounded, the witnesses then saw a man and a woman running from the greenhouse and down the path to the back-alley entrance. The two people were dressed in identical clothes to what some officers saw the duchess and Alec McGuiness wearing earlier today. That is why I believe they couldn’t have been the shooters.”

“Dammit! They were involved in all of this.” Fergus dragged a hand through his hair. “If they hadn’t come to see her in the first place, she would still be alive. That makes them responsible for her death, regardless of whether or not they physically pulled the trigger.” He seemed to compose himself and slowly straightened up. “I suggest you direct all your resources into finding them, sergeant, or my men and I will. And I can’t guarantee the outcome when we do.”

“Yes, sir. We will find them.” And Jarrod was hoping they did. Grief did strange things to men. In some, it made them extremely morose, wanting to retreat from everyone. In others, it made them tremendously mad and thirsting for revenge. Lord Fergus definitely appeared to be among the latter half of mourners. It was going to make Jarrod’s job all the harder, as Lord Fergus had the blunt and the resources to actually try to do what he said he would, and such a situation wouldn’t bode well for anyone.

He was going to have to set one of his constables to watch the man, which was a damn annoyance, as it meant they would be a man down in their hunt to find the duchess. And find her first they must, because Jarrod got the sense that if Fergus came upon her before the police, he may well shoot first before asking questions, without letting Lady Justice do her work.