Murder in Cormyr - Chet Williamson [19]
"Because he's been dressing up like a ghost and scaring people. I saw him last night He was wearing that armor…" I pointed at the headless body lying arms akimbo. A pool of blood had thickened into a brown-black custard at the corpse's neck. "That's probably luminous paint on his face…" I nodded at the pale green color of Dovo's skin. "And he was carrying that axe," I finished quietly. That particular implement was lying near the body, its long curved blade dark with dried blood.
"How far is Benelaius's cottage?" asked Lindavar. I thought it an abrupt change of topic.
"Another mile up this road," I answered.
"Very well. You stay here, Jasper, and I'll go and fetch him."
The hairs on the back of my neck tickled. "What? Me stay here? Why?"
"Because there should be someone at the scene of the crime. If no one's here, someone else could come along and disturb the evidence, or beasts could come out of the swamp and devour the body, or the killer could return."
"And if the beasts or the killer comes, what am / supposed to do about it?" I knew that as a good servant I shouldn't question an order, but this one made me a touch edgy.
"If the killer comes back," said Lindavar, "you can hide and see who it is, and if any beasts come… well, I shouldn't be gone that long."
"But-"
"Now, Jasper, as a great man once said, 'A brave and steadfast heart can overcome any fear.' So don't worry. I'll be back with Benelaius shortly. In the meantime, look about for clues, only don't disturb anything."
And without another howdydo, he trotted back to the road, hopped up onto the carriage, and set the horses toward Benelaius's.
I knew only too well who that great man was whom he spoke of. Camber Fosrick. I had committed the quote to memory as well. So Lindavar, one of the War Wizards of Cormyr, was addicted to trashy literature too. I would have chuckled had I not been so scared.
So I thought about Fosrick's quote and came to the conclusion that, although I greatly admired the detective, it was poppycock. What it said was, that if you were brave, then you would be brave. It didn't tell you how to get that way. Cold comfort indeed, I can tell you.
I decided to follow Lindavar's other piece of advice and use the time searching for clues. That would keep my mind off beasts and killers, and the investigation would be that much further along by the time Benelaius arrived.
So with great care I began to walk all around the corpse, being careful not to step on footprints. The sodden ground had held those of Lindavar and myself well, but earlier prints had nearly disappeared, the swamp pushing up against the indentations as if to deny that man had ever trod there. The few marks that were left appeared to have been made by someone with big feet, and I looked at the soles of Dovo's corpse. They were big all right, like everything else on the man.
Since all the footprints were big, I figured that the feet of the killer had to be large also. All right, then, the killer had big feet. I felt Camber Fosrick would be proud of me, brave or not Also, none of the footprints led farther toward the swamp, so whoever beheaded Dovo must have come from the road and left that way. Another brilliant deduction, I thought. Unless the killer flew, but the odds of that seemed long.
Then I searched the ground for things smaller than footprints, and found a few. The severed tips of three fingers lay closely together, and I shuddered as I glanced at Dovo's corpse. The right hand was visible, with all its digits intact, but the left hand was covered by the corpse. I didn't move it to look for stumps.
There were also some small shards of broken glass several feet away from Dovo's body. I left them where they were, but I could see that they were clear rather than colored, and slightly curved as well.
The costume of the corpse was far less impressive than I had thought it the night before. I would have sworn, for instance, that my ghost had been wearing a full suit of gleaming armor, and a helmet with a crest that made the