Free The Bellingham Bloodbath by Gregory Harris Page A

later used to kill him. Once he had the captain lashed to the chair the killer stole back downstairs, sealed little Albert in his room, and then murdered Mrs. Bellingham, dispatched without a second thought. And then, and only then, did he return to the attic to dispense his torment against the captain.” He stroked his chin and dropped back into his chair. “But why . . .” He shook his head. “That’s what I shall need to figure out.”
    â€œI thought you said he was after information?”
    â€œIf it was only information the killer was after, then why wouldn’t he have used the captain’s family as leverage against him?”
    I shut my mouth and stared at him. That thought hadn’t occurred to me.
    â€œI’ll tell you this . . . ,” he went on. “The one person I should most like to speak with right now is the lady Private O’Fallon mentioned.”
    â€œDahlia Stuart.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œAnd do you have any idea how we might find her?”
    He gazed into the fire a moment. “I suppose we could ask Private O’Fallon. He says he kept the captain’s schedule. He should know where their visits took place.”
    â€œI hope so. But tell me.” I finally settled into my chair. “How did you do at the Nesbitt-Normand estate? Did you find any traces of her pup?”
    He shook his head as he seized his dumbbells near the bookcase by the door and began curling them to his shoulders. “I am afraid I found precious little. It’s quite vexing and the more time that passes the greater the danger she’s likely to be in. I cannot understand why no one has contacted Lady Nesbitt-Normand for a ransom yet.”
    â€œThen you’re convinced she has been taken?”
    â€œI am. I discovered two rib bones in the bushes by the side yard, and since Lady Nesbitt-Normand insists they never fed the pup pork, it would seem she has indeed been snatched.”
    â€œSo where does that leave us?”
    â€œWith nothing but questions,” he exhaled.
    â€œI really wish you hadn’t taken that case.”
    He frowned at me, the muscles of his arms flexing and relaxing in tandem with his movements. “You must stop saying that. You’re supposed to be the one with the boundless compassion and yet you dismiss poor Priscilla as though she were a rodent. She is the woman’s companion. A source of unconditional love in what must otherwise be a rather remote and dreary existence. Surely you can see that?”
    â€œI suppose—”
    â€œWe should get our own dog . . . ,” he muttered as he set the dumbbells back and crossed to the windows. “However, at the moment, it occurs to me that I have yet to ask exactly how you managed to get Captain Bellingham’s file.”
    â€œThe file . . . ?” The incongruity of his statement prickled the hairs on the back of my neck as I craned around to look at him.
    â€œYes. Your morbid Mr. Ross is downstairs with a couple of bobbies.” He turned to me, letting the drapes fall back into place. “Is there anything you want to tell me before Mrs. Behmoth brings them up?”
    â€œP-p-police . . . ?” I stammered. “He’s brought police?!”
    â€œNever mind.” He waved me off as he hastily reassembled the file in its original order. “I’ve seen all I need.” He tossed it on the table by the settee. “He can have it—”
    A violent commotion burst up from downstairs, cutting Colin off. I hadn’t even heard the door creak open before the thunder of multiple feet pounding up the stairs blunted all other sounds.
    â€œ ’Ere now!” I heard Mrs. Behmoth bellow with outrage. “Ain’t ya lot got any bloody manners?!”
    There was no reply as two navy-blue bobbies’ domes bounced into view, followed closely by Inspector Varcoe, wearing his ever-present expression of profound distaste, with