We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [110]
“How tall was he?” Judith asked.
“What?”
“How tall was he?” she repeated. “A lot taller than you? A little?”
Lizzie shut her eyes. “It doesn’t matter, Judith. Cavan, Wil, and Benbow are all much the same height, within an inch or two. They’re all half a foot taller than I am.”
“I know. But he kissed you?”
“Yes! I told you!” Lizzie’s voice was ragged, her control slipping.
Judith felt brutal, but she did not stop. “Where were his hands?”
“Hands? I don’t know! I…”
“Yes? What? Why didn’t you twist away?”
“He held my face—”
“Smell,” Judith said instantly. “What did his hands smell of?”
Lizzie froze, her eyes wide.
“Ether? Disinfectant? Blood?” Judith demanded.
“No…no, smoke, like cigarettes,” Lizzie replied. “And oil?”
“What kind of oil?” Judith’s voice was shaking now, too. “Think! Was it petrol, metallic oil, butter? What? Bring it back, exactly?”
“It wasn’t Cavan, was it,” Lizzie said with certainty. “He couldn’t have gotten rid of the ether and disinfectant. Engine oil from Wil, gun oil from Benbow.”
“Yes. What was it?”
The silence was intense, as if the clay walls behind the wood shoring them up was somehow absorbing the sound, even their breath.
“I’m not sure. Bitter,” Lizzie said at last. “I couldn’t smell petrol, just tobacco, cigarette smoke, and a tiny bit of metallic oil.
“No…he…” Lizzie stopped with a gasp.
“What? What?”
“I heard him put it down…,” Lizzie said with slow, gasping amazement. “I remember…I heard him put it down. It unbalanced and fell against the duckboards. It was Benbow! It had to have been! Wil and Cavan don’t have guns. And his tunic was rough, khaki. Cavan was still in his white coat.” She swallowed convulsively. “Why didn’t I know that before?”
“You didn’t want to remember it. Who would?” Judith said simply. “I’m sorry…”
Lizzie shook her head. “No. Don’t be. What should I do? I suppose I have to tell Onslow?” Her fear was palpable in the closed room, even in the semi-darkness.
“Not yet,” Judith replied. “I’ll tell Joseph first.” She heard Lizzie’s sharp drawing in of breath, and understood. “He has to know sometime. Get it over. I’ll do it. At least you won’t be afraid of everyone now. But don’t be alone…promise?”
Lizzie gave a very slight smile. “I promise.”
“Come on then. Now! Come with me back to Allie. She’s a pretty good bitch at times, but at least you know where you stand with her.”
“Benbow? Are you sure?” Matthew asked.
Joseph repeated the essence of what Judith had told him. He tried to keep his emotion out of it, think of it as a string of facts, imprison his imagination so none of it was real.
“Sounds pretty solid,” Matthew said gravely. “I’m glad it wasn’t Cavan or Wil Sloan. I’m sorry, Joe. Do you want to face him, or would you rather not?”
“We’ll have to go to Onslow anyway,” Joseph pointed out. “I hit him. I should do that.”
Matthew frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Come on, if I don’t do that I’m going to fall long before the last fence.” Joseph made himself smile. He was the eldest. He was the one who loved Lizzie. It was his responsibility. “I’ll go now.”
But it proved far harder than he had anticipated. Onslow accepted the evidence without argument, but when he had Benbow brought in it was a very different matter. He looked haggard, ashen-faced, and, standing feet away, Joseph could smell the fear in him.
“I didn’t kill Sarah Price!” he protested, struggling uselessly against the manacles that held his hands tight behind his back. “I didn’t, I swear to God! I never touched her!” He wrenched himself around to face Joseph. “Chaplain, I swear! All right, Moira Jessop played me around rotten, an’ I took her, all right, an’ I weren’t none too gentle, fought like a wildcat, but that was a month ago, more. I never touched Sarah Price. Jesus! What do you think I am? She was sliced to bits!