Serena

“Told you, Uncle Danny, she is a right ’un, didn’t I? Now, I’ll tell you another thing. You should see Serena track, a very knowing one is Serena in the woods.”

“Do go on,” his lordship answered dryly.

“Yes, well, we tracked horse prints, and there he was, dead—the tall, loose fish, not the short one. Saw the two earlier you see … in the woods. Damn if he wasn’t just lying there, dead, looking like a giant hit hard. Shot in the head! Not much of a face left.”

“A loose fish in the morning?” Now Lord Pendleton’s brows were drawn together. “The dead body was someone you met … a loose fish, earlier that day?”

“Well, didn’t meet him, but we saw him arguing with a short, stout fellow, but that is neither here nor there. Off we went, as Serena thought we should go straightaway to the magistrate.”

“Quite right,” his uncle interrupted to say, “but are you saying that Miss Moorely accompanied you to the magistrate? She must have been exhausted by this time?”

“Told you … she is—”

“Yes, yes, a right ’un, I know. So she went with you?”

“Yes, to Mr. Tuthill. Then we had to take him to where the body lay, and what do you think, Uncle Danny?”

“I can’t imagine. What should I think?”

“It was gone!” returned Freddy dramatically. “The body was gone.”

“Ah,” said his uncle, “gone, you say? Are you sure the poor chap was actually dead?”

“Quite, quite dead, Uncle, but there was also the matter of his horse.”

“Of course, Freddy, his horse?”

“Aye, Serena thought we should take it along with us, for we spotted it grazing about in the woods. I said, no, it would slow us down, so she said that I was probably right, so we left it there.” He eyed his uncle grimly and continued, “And the horse was gone as well.”

“The horse may have found its way home. Horses do, you know,” his lordship offered reasonably.

“Serena doesn’t think so,” Freddy answered, puzzling up over the problem.

“Doesn’t she?” his uncle was moved to ask. “What exactly does Miss Moorely think?”

“Seems to think the tall sailor—the dead chap, you see—was from Buckler’s Hard or perhaps Ly

mington. She seems to think she saw him about town recently. He stands out, because the poor dead chap was even taller than you, Uncle. At any rate, she thinks the murderer came back to hide the body. Used the dead man’s horse to carry him off.” Freddy shrugged. “I quite agree. It was late, and she was concerned about her uncle worrying over her, so we couldn’t track and see if there were another set of horse prints but mean to do so some time soon.”

“You and Miss Moorely?”

“Aye, Serena doesn’t think Mr. Tuthill took us seriously. She says he won’t follow up and that someone must. She says Tuthill thought the fellow wasn’t dead, even though he saw the pool of blood. Uncle, it looked as though all the blood in his body had made a small pond in the pine needles. Tuthill saw it and simply told us we should get home.”

“But Miss Moorely doesn’t agree with him?”

“No, we both know the truth of it. And, Uncle, I know a dead body when I see one,” Freddy scoffed.

“Indeed, Freddy … have you seen many dead bodies?”

“Well … no, except for m’instructor, Mr. Stooley, who up and died in the middle of class.” He stared at his uncle,

“Why would the murderer come back for the body?”

“Saw us.” Freddy shrugged. “Maybe wanted Tuthill to think that the man up and left … wasn’t dead, just as Tuthill thought. No body … no evidence of a crime. No body, no identification, no investigation.”

“You know, Freddy, Miss Moorely does have a good point, but tell me something, was not Miss Moorely repelled by the sight of a dead body?”

“Ha, not Serena. She is far too mature for nonsensical, missish ways, and Serena is … well, you will see for yourself when you get to know her.”