Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery John Pilkington (story reading .TXT) 📖

one Thomas Peck, a forester,’ the sergeant added, fixing Peter Willett with a hard stare. ‘Master Belstrang is of the opinion that it was you who attacked him, on a Sabbath evening twelve days ago. You then clubbed Peck to death. This, he believes, was on the orders of Tobias Russell, who will face grave charges once he’s found. Do you have aught to say to that?’

No answer came, which was of small surprise to me.

‘Let me spell it out,’ Parry said patiently. ‘If you refuse to give testimony, you will both be taken to Gloucester castle, where the keeper is well-versed in getting men to talk. His methods have caused concern in some quarters… yet he gets results.’

At that Jonas Willett stirred, but his son did not respond. Whereupon Parry looked deliberately at each of them, before settling on Peter. ‘Loyalty’s a fine thing,’ he said. ‘But somewhat misplaced in this case, wouldn’t you say? Russell was prepared to sacrifice you to save his own neck - and to stop you from talking. Do you truly intend to remain silent, for his sake?’

Another moment passed – then I saw it: the older man looked near the end of his tether. The next moment, he let out a great sigh and banged a fist down on his knee.

‘By the Christ… it’s all up, can’t you see?’

He almost spat the words out, turning upon his son. ‘Tell them what they want to hear, and be done with it!’ He cried. ‘Plead our condition and cry mercy – for the Lord’s sake, can’t you do that for me, if not for yourself?’

There was desperation in his voice and in his gaze. But his son merely glowered, eyes averted.

‘Your father is right,’ Sergeant Parry said to him. ‘Your only hope is to make a confession. Though I’ll not lie to you: whatever the condition he speaks of, it makes no difference to your sentence: I have no doubt that you’ll hang. Yet it’s possible you can spare your father the same fate.’

‘Me?’ Jonas Willett swung his gaze to Parry. ‘What charge do I face? Aside from telling a few untruths, perhaps-’

‘Stop your gabbling!’

The words flew from Peter Willet’s mouth, as he turned suddenly to his father. The movement caused him to grunt with pain, yet his eyes blazed with anger. Lifting a hand weakly, he jabbed it in the air.

‘You worthless old wretch!’ he breathed. ‘You’ve always seen what you wanted to see – or dulled your wits with drink. And whose money is it, I ask, that pays for your getting soused night after night? I could…’

With an oath he broke off, gazing down at his lap. But at last, here was an opening for ex-Justice Belstrang. A notion had been surfacing, and I lost no time in voicing it.

‘Foundry-work is indeed a hard life, is it not?’ I said to Jonas. ‘Dirty, hot and perilous - you told me so yourself, do you recall? Just the two of you, toiling every hour of daylight, doing the work of three or four men.’ I paused, then: ‘Few would pass up the chance to earn money elsewhere, when offered - more money, someone hereabouts told me, than a man might make in a month or even a year. Is it not so?’

But the old man merely shook his head. In a single day he had aged; he looked haggard, even close to tears. For a moment I almost sympathised with him: a widower, I had learned by now, who had struggled to bring up his child unaided… whereupon a notion soared, that struck me like a blow.

‘John Mountford,’ I said, turning to Peter. ‘By heaven, it was you who slew him.’

A deathly silence fell. Parry’s constable, standing by the doorway, tensed visibly; even the sergeant looked surprised. But I kept my gaze on the younger Willett, who refused to meet my eye… whereupon his father alarmed everyone by letting out a howl of anguish.

‘No… no, he wouldn’t!’ he cried. ‘He found the body, is all - he swore to me! Mountford was talking with some foresters - Peck, and other men. He was careless, he walked where he shouldn’t have… a great elm fell on him, crushed him like a fly!’ In anguish, he turned to his son. ‘You swore to me! You know you did-’

‘Be quiet, damn you!’ Peter Willett’s command - for it was nothing less - cut his father off in an instant. But it was too late: Parry saw it, as did I. Drawing a breath, the sergeant threw me a glance, then eyed the culprit keenly.

‘Is that why Thomas Peck had to die too?’ He asked quietly. ‘Because he talked to John Mountford, mayhap told him things you didn’t want known? Or was it only after he spoke with Master Belstrang here, that you decided his life had to be snuffed out?’

Another silence followed, broken only by the older man’s breaking into tears. Shaking his head, he sobbed into his beard, no longer able to look at his son… but Peter Willett shot a savage glance at him, then up at me.

‘I should have cracked your skull open when I had the chance,’ he muttered. ‘Just as that damned fool Spry should have dealt with you…’ he looked aside, then eyed Parry.

‘Do what you will,’ he breathed, wincing as his wound pained him. ‘For it seems I’m tried and convicted already… I curse you and your whoreson castle-keeper. God knows I’ll be glad to get clear of this village, and all its week-kneed grubbers. Slaves, the lot of them - like you!’

The last phrase was thrown at Jonas, who merely quailed. He was broken: a different man to the one who had blocked my way in The Comfort that night, and asked me my business. I turned away, but it seemed Peter Willett was