Her mouth still tingled from his kisses as she hurried down the flight of stairs to the front hall. The marten raced after her, chattering what she imagined as admonitions to her impulsive behavior with Renaud.
Actresses were allowed to be free with their favors. Some people even expected them to be free with their favors. Back in Paris, Haidée was careful to cultivate such a persona although in reality, she rarely took lovers. If one were to different from the stereotype…
She shook her head from the thoughts and concentrated on her own direction. People were already gathered in the front hall, murmuring in shocked, soft voices. Then she saw the dark shape on the floor.
Flaxen hair spilled out from beneath a long black cloak. Bare arms and legs peeked out—pale and faintly blue. Her throat suddenly felt dry when she realized that this was D’Aubigne’s body.
She wet her lips, feeling cold. “Is it…”
“Mademoiselle!” Everard’s stout figure suddenly blocked her way. “This is a terrible scene for your delicate sensibilities. Please allow us men to take care of this…”
The cackle of the old astronomer Laurent Roland cut off Everard. “You’re hardly fit yourself, Everard. You’re babbling.”
“Am not!” The head astronomer responded petulantly.
“Gentlemen,” Edouard Garnier drawled. “Now is the worst time to be arguing about sensibilities.”
Haidée managed to sidestep Everard and concentrated her gaze on the new visitor standing beside Villiers and Claude and discussing whether or not they should inform the magistrate immediately or wait until the storm abated. From their conversation, Haidée deduced that the new figure in a dripping hat and coat was the local farmer, Laroche.
“What happened?” she asked, infusing her voice with an imperious tone she reserved for aristocratic characters that she played on the stage.
The men slid her a glance. Villiers tilted his head arrogantly. “Mademoiselle…”
Laroche gave a cough just as Villiers was about to continue. “I found him.”
Steps sounded on the floor behind her. She straightened as a familiar shadow stood next to her. Renaud had finally changed into dry clothes, including an overly large coat. Only his hair remained loose and damp, still slightly mused from when she ran her fingers through it. She felt herself flush, but she kept her gaze ahead. She heard the snick of metal as Renaud put his spectacles on.
“Where did you find him?” Renaud asked.
“On the edge of my property,” the farmer replied. “I was out trying to get a horse that had escaped from the stables. I found him lying face down on the edge of the wall as naked as the day he was born. I also noticed some black markings on his back, but they were being washed off by the rain.” The farmer paused, and then added, “I didn’t find a pulse or a heartbeat.”
With those words, Haidée found her eyes drawn to the water leaking onto the floor. Was it just the trick of the light that the water was tinged gray-black as it formed a puddle around the stones?
With chilling fascination, Haidée wondered if the marks were still on D’Aubigne’s body and if those marks were still recognizable as such. She had the suspicion that the marks were also made by the same kind of ink that had marked Legard. The two deaths were too similar to ignore. Whoever, and Haidée had no doubt that someone was involved, had killed Legard was most certainly the same one who killed D’Aubigne and left his body on the wall that bordered Larchoe’s farm and the observatory.
But Everard ignored that fact with ease when he directed Villiers and Claude to move the body to the cellar for the duration. “Monsieur Laroche, could I impose on you to inform the magistrate and the doctor when you go back to the village?”
The farmer made a show of tipping his hat. “I can certainly do that, Monsieur Everard. Anything to help in this time of tragedy.”
“A certain tragedy it is.” The head astronomer took on a grave air. “Ah, youth, struck down by the merest accident!”
“Accident, eh?” she heard the short astronomer, Garnier mutter sarcastically under his breath. “Oh, it was obviously an accident.”
Roland who was standing next to Garnier as the observatory servants hauled up the body, chuckled softly. “Indeed. What sort of accident does Everard think has befallen the young pup?”
Haidée saw Renaud shrug in response to his remark. “Who knows,” said Renaud. “Did you see anything else of interest, Monsieur Laroche? Did it look like he broke his neck climbing the wall?”
On his way out, the farmer shook his head. “No, Monsieur.”
“Well, that solves that little problem,” Garnier drawled with a sneer. “I wonder if the doctor would care to enlighten us with his diagnosis when he arrives.”
“I have no doubt that he was struck by lightning while taking a walk,” Everard announced. “It is dreadful weather outside today.”
“But naked in this weather?” Roland said dubiously.
Garnier sighed. “Don’t forget that D’Aubigne was rather uninhibited, if you know what I mean.”
Renaud crossed his arms and said in a rather bored voice, “I can’t work if a dead body is cluttering up my work space.”
The last comment caused her to turn her head from her examination of the inky water puddles on the floor to the men who were standing around speculating on an “accident” that she was sure never occurred. “I can’t believe all of you are standing around here chatting as if nothing worse had happened other than perhaps someone accidentally falling off the roof trying to repair a leak.”
The marten at her feet squeaked in what suspiciously sounded like agreement.
The astronomers stared at her. Renaud had a speculative gleam in his eye as he regarded her, but it was Everard who spoke first.
“Mademoiselle, you are overwrought.”
“I am not overwrought,” she replied in a calm, even tone. “I’m trying to point out the obvious to you thick skulls. Monsieur D’Aubigne did not accidentally die. Someone killed him.”
Everard shook his head in denial. “You’re being overdramatic.”
“I don’t think so.” She held up a hand with an index finger raised. “For one, Monsieur D’Aubigne and Monsieur Legard were found in the same manner. I don’t believe that was coincidence. Nor is the fact that they died few days apart mere chance. And what about the previous suicide? Three deaths so close together strike me as suspicious, don’t you think?”
Garnier gave her a thin lipped smile. “Those are all good points, Mademoiselle, but I doubt that Danton Neville’s suicide had anything to do with this. We know he committed suicide. He even left a note.”
Notes could be forged, Haidée thought darkly, but instead of pointing that out, she said, “Then there’s the matter of the markings on the backs of the deceased. There would be no way for them to put that on themselves. Someone else must have done it.”
“But who?” asked Roland. “I admit, I’ve been harboring the thought that D’Aubigne had done Legard in because of his animosity against him, but now D’Aubigne is dead. I can’t imagine someone bearing a grudge against both of them. They are both quite different.”
“Well, someone does,” Haidée replied. “And it had not escaped my notice either that all the recent deaths have been those of astronomers.”
Everard paled. “Mademoiselle, this is not some sort of trick you’re trying to pull on us? Are you implying that there is a killer after one of us next?”
“What an intriguing notion,” mused Renaud. “I wonder if there is a pattern or if these crimes were committed simply because the killer had the opportunity. Who was D’Aubigne trying to meet up with in this weather when he went out earlier?”
“I have no idea,” proclaimed Roland. Haidée thought the old man proclaimed a little too loudly. “Perhaps he was meeting up with the killer. Too bad he’s dead or he would have been able to tell us who it is.”
Garnier shook his head. “This is useless speculation, I’d say. Let the magistrate handle the investigations. I’m sure he has more experience in this kind of thing.”
“But Monsieur Galliard resides all the way back in the village,” Renaud pointed out. “I haven’t seen him here lately—he probably has less idea than we do about what is going on. And what about the possibility that the murderer is under this same roof now?”
Haidée was struck by the idea. “Indeed, what if that were true?” A shiver snaked over her shoulders. “On that note, Monsieur Renaud, what were you doing earlier? I noticed that you came in soaking to the bone.”
His spectacles winked in the light. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?” he said softly. Everyone’s eyes were riveted to him, waiting for the answer.
“Well, it is somewhat puzzeling to me that you were outside while Monsieur D’Aubigne was being murdered,” she said. “I was inside while that was happening.”
He gave her a cold smile. “That doesn’t mean that you didn’t change out of wet clothes before you met me. Why, I think it would make much sense if you were the one responsible. You could have easily coerced them to strip naked—a woman such as yourself would be incentive enough. And then you could have fed them some sort of poison that left no trace.”
She gaped at his deductions. “How dare you imply that I had anything to do with this? I didn’t even know any of these people before I came to this island. I don’t even have a motive.”
“Who says murderers need motive?” said Renaud. “Certain crazed people could kill just for the fun of it.”
“You’re turning this back on me because you refuse to admit to where you were!”
Evarard coughed. “Actually, he was with me and Claude. Madame Boulanger had noticed that one of the experimental outdoor measuring devices in the garden had been knocked over during the storm when she was out getting water from the well. She told me and since Renaud was available, we three went to fetch the contraption inside so it wouldn’t be further damaged by the winds.”
“Oh, what a convincing excuse,” said Garnier.
“And where were you?” Roland turned to the shorter astronomer with rheumy yet sharp eyes. “I think you have perhaps more motive than the rest of us.”
“It is true that D’Aubigne and Legard were not my favorite people in the world,” Garnier retorted. “And neither were they yours. But that does not mean that I would be so depraved as to kill someone simply because I didn’t like them. Besides, I think this is a waste of time pointing fingers at each other. I’m going back to work.”
With that, Garnier turned his back on them and strolled away.