Page 65 of Death at a Highland Wedding
“Would you rather I needle you some more?”
“I am not certain,” he says as he turns back to the house. As he walks away, he murmurs, under his breath, as if I’m not supposed to hear it, “I rather like that too much as well.”
First, we track down Fiona, who is in the yard playing croquet with the other women. I take her aside before asking about moving the injured kitten—otherwise, I envision Edith flying into a tizzy at the thought of an animal in the house. Fiona says the move sounds like an excellent idea, and she excuses herself from the game to speak to Mrs. Hall.
A few minutes later, Gray and I have the suspect shillelaghs in the parlor. What we don’t have? Gray or Isla’s laboratory equipment. We don’t even have a magnifying glass.
McCreadie brought us the shillelaghs and then had to go interview the staff. I’ve told him about Simon and Cranston’s valet. Better that he’s prepared for that revelation.
Now Gray and I are standing at a table we pulled into the middle of the room. The shillelaghs rest atop a white linen cloth. Testing for DNA is out of the question, obviously. We shook the clubs over the cloth first, in case any dirt or hairs fell off. Nothing did, and I’m not sure how useful that would be. Useful in the sense it would suggest the shillelagh mighthave been used to kill Sinclair, but any detritus could also be from its use as a walking stick, and without a microscope, we lack a way to compare dirt or hairs.
In this era, checking for blood requires a microscope. There’s no luminol or other tests. I’m still trying to figure out how to rig up a black light, if that’s even possible. The hack I know—wrap colored cellophane around a flashlight—doesn’t work without cellophane or flashlights.
“We could rub it with a cloth and see whether any blood comes off,” I say. That’s not exactly hard science, but even if we did find blood, we’re decades from being able to analyze it. We can only say that the object seems to have blood on it.
“We will likely need to do that,” he says. “First, though, we will want to examine it for signs of damage. I do not see any with the naked eye, but let us take a closer look with a lamp.”
“Is it possible to make a magnifying glass? I did that as a kid, using the base of a plastic bottle and a drop of water, but you guys haven’t invented plastic, and we can’t easily cut glass.”
He considers. “True, but the principle should work. It’s the convex surface of the magnifying glass or the droplet that we require. Let us hunt down a glass bottle and some water.”
With the bottle and the water, we’re able to test several ways of magnifying the surface of the shillelaghs. While a drop of water works for a very limited area, it does mean we’re wetting a surface that may contain evidence. Putting water in the glass bottle gives us a less magnified view, but a much larger surface, without the risk of washing away trace.
When I heartily wish for the concentrated beam of a flashlight, Gray fashions a cone for the lamp, which allows for a much brighter light source. As much as I long for my old equipment, I have to admit there is magic in this, hearkening back to childhood, figuring out the world and the science behind it.
So we have our makeshift magnifier and our makeshift flashlight and…
“Nothing,” I say, sighing dramatically. “All that, and we still didn’t find anything to suggest that either of these clubs were the murder weapon. Even rubbing the ends with a cloth didn’t reveal traces of blood.”
“I am sorry,” Gray says. “I know it was disappointing.”
“Kinda fun though.” I sneak him a smile. “Even if it is a waste of valuable time.”
“But is our time so valuable?” He sets the lamp down on a side table. “Unless you would rather have been playing croquet…”
I shudder. “Now, if I were playing croquet with you and Hugh and Isla, it’d be fun, but not with Edith.” I place the water jar by the lantern.
“Also, one could say it was a valuable use of our time in the sense that we now know how to make do in the field, if we lack the proper equipment. We spent time learning while we could afford to spend it.”
“Or we learned to start carrying around a magnifying glass.” I glance up at him. “I don’t suppose they have portable microscopes yet?”
“Hardly.”
“Yeah, not even sure that’s a thing in my time.” I look back at the shillelaghs. “Okay, so there’s no sign of blood on these and no sign of damage that could have been caused by striking Ezra in the head. I don’t know that therewouldhave been damage to the clubs, though. I also don’t know that therewouldhave been blood from a single blow. We could have hoped for hair, but that isn’t likely without damage to the wood.”
“You did lift finger marks. That was cleverly done.”
“Now you’re just throwing me a bone.” I sigh and drop onto the settee. “You know whose fingerprints I’m going to find? The guy who’s been arrested, because they’re his damn walking sticks, and if I find that, I need to be sure Ross doesn’t find out or I’ll have put the noose around Archie’s neck myself.”
“But what if there are other prints? Prints that have no explanation for being there?”
“That’d be a whole lot more helpful if we had any proof that one of those clubs was the actual murder weapon. I thought I was being so clever. Oh, look at that wound pattern. It could be one of those shillelaghs from the house.” I sigh again.
“There might be another way to test that theory,” Gray says.
“Like what?”
“Compare the pattern of bumps to the actual wound.”
