The Peculiar Case of Lord Finsbury's Diamonds: A Casebook of Barnaby Adair Short Novel (The Casebook of Barnaby Adair) Read Free

and the inn folk say Mitchell purchased a ticket and managed to squeeze onto the London coach that afternoon, and rattled off to town. No one at the house saw anything more of him until this morning, when the cook sent the scullery maid to fetch more eggs from a nearby farm, and the maid took the path and found him”—Stokes nodded at the body—“like this. Unsurprisingly, the maid went into hysterics, rushed back to the house, and alerted the staff. The butler sent for Duffet here, who came, saw, and sent word to the Yard.”
     “So,” Barnaby said, “thus far only we three, and the butler and the scullery maid, have seen the body.”
     “And the murderer,” Stokes grimly replied.
     “Indeed.” Barnaby glanced at Duffet, then looked back at Stokes. “Any clue as to when it was done? From the relative dryness beneath the body versus the dampness on his back, I would assume it was sometime yesterday.”
     Stokes nodded. “According to the butler, Mitchell had sent word two evenings ago that he would be returning to speak with Miss Finsbury yesterday afternoon. He was expected, but he never appeared. Duffet checked, and Mitchell did arrive on the coach that stopped at Hampstead yesterday afternoon.”
     “So the murderer knew Mitchell was coming to the house and guessed he would be walking up this path. The murderer seized the chance and set the trap, and kept watch. When Mitchell stepped into the trap and went down, the murderer emerged from the bushes and repeatedly struck him until he was most assuredly dead. Then the murderer flung the hoop-hammer into the bushes and…” Frowning, Barnaby paused.
     “Walked back to the house,” Stokes filled in. “That’s the most likely scenario. No one in the village saw any stranger around yesterday afternoon, arriving or leaving, other than Mitchell himself.”
     Stokes paused, then went on, “But that’s not the end of the complications.”
     When Barnaby looked his way, Stokes said, “On being shown the body, Duffet searched Mitchell’s pockets—and found a diamond necklace.”
     Barnaby glanced at Duffet.
     The young man’s face lit. “A fabulous thing, sir. It glittered like stars.”
     “According to the butler, who, Duffet says, goggled as much as he did, the necklace belongs to Lord Finsbury.” Stokes read from his notebook. “It’s known as the Finsbury diamonds, is hugely valuable, and, in some circles at least, is well-known.”
     Barnaby grimaced. “Old family jewelry, unless stolen, holds little interest for me, but if we need to know more, I know who to ask.”
     “Cynster?” When Barnaby nodded, Stokes said, “It’s possible we might need to know more about the necklace, but at this point I can think of several more urgent questions.”
     “But”—Barnaby glanced from Stokes to Duffet—“where are the diamonds now?”
     “As mentioned,” Stokes grimly said, “the butler, Riggs, went into a tizzy at the sight of them, and he insisted they be immediately returned to his master. Duffet here, not understanding the usual procedures of a murder investigation, allowed himself to be swayed. He and Riggs took the diamonds back to Lord Finsbury.”
     Eyes on Duffet, Barnaby asked, “How did Lord Finsbury react?”
     Obviously regretting his unintentional lapse, Duffet hurried to assure him, “Exactly as one might expect, sir. He was stunned and shocked.”
     “Apparently,” Stokes said, “Lord Finsbury had no idea the diamonds weren’t in the safe in his study.”
     “He really was rattled, sir,” Duffet opined. “Went pale as a sheet. Then he took the diamonds and put them back in the safe—in a black velvet box, which he said was where he’d thought they’d been.”
     Barnaby struggled to fit the puzzle piece of the diamonds into the picture of the murder forming in his mind. After several seconds, he met Stokes’s gaze. “That’s…a very confounding complication.”
     “Indeed.” Stokes glanced at