"Did you say it was a murder?" asked Sigerson, curious to hear what had happened in such an isolated village.
"Murders," corrected Percy, wiping his face with a towel. "Four people are dead. They were found at three o'clock just then."
"You mentioned a farm. Where is this farm?"
"Just on the edge of the village. It's on the opposite side to us."
Sigerson looked thoughtful for a moment. Could this crime have anything to do with Blight? The moment he stepped into this village in the middle of nowhere, a murder, which was rarer than being struck by lightning, occurred right where he was staying. It would be wiser for him to check, just in case…
"Is there a chance of me being seen by the Enforcers if I help with the investigation?"
"You want to investigate this crime?"
"Yes, if it is possible for me to stay hidden."
"I–I suppose I could let you into the crime scene… I can't guarantee you won't be seen though…"
"I'll be fine as long as they can't identify me on sight."
"That should be possible, although…"
He hesitated for a moment, then ran off to ask his mother a quick question. When he hastily returned, he said, "If you're fine with bleaching your hair, I can easily disguise you well enough to avoid too much attention."
"I think you should do it," piped Evelyn enthusiastically. "At least your hair won't look like strands of—"
"I'll do it," said Sigerson, cutting off his cousin's excited jabbering. "When do we start?"
"Come to the bath-house and I'll help you now."
After several minutes of painful bleaching and a few extra details, the disguise was complete. Sigerson, now with dull blonde hair like straw and a stooping posture, emerged from the bath-house. His overcoat was replaced by a shabby trench coat picked out from among Percy's old clothes, giving him an air of untidiness. A pair of rusty glasses was handed to him and placed carefully on his face, completing the illusion.
"That's excellent!" exclaimed Evelyn in amazement. "Here, let me fix your hair a little bit—"
She tucked his hair behind his ears.
"There. Now that your hair is a lot neater, you look like a completely different person."
"Are you ready to go?" asked Percy, putting on his shoes.
"Let's leave now."
Together, they navigated around the village to the farm. The usually quiet streets were bustling with activity and rumors flew around at every corner of the cobblestoned streets. People shared whispered conversations about their own theories on the murders; nothing like this had ever been heard of in the village. As they approached the farm, many constables came out to block them, telling them to turn around and leave.
At this, Percy slowly drew out his Enforcer badge, holding it up to the policemen in a solemn, impressive way. The constable barricading the path trembled at the sight of the badge and asked, "Is there anything you need, sir?"
"I wish to see the progress of the investigation," he replied coldly.
"I–I'm afraid that might not be possible, sir."
"If you refuse to let me pass, rest assured, this will have to be reported to my superiors," said Percy menacingly, raising his voice subtly for the cowering policeman to understand the situation he was in.
"What is going on over here?" A shrewd voice called from behind.
"Inspector! These men wish to enter the crime scene!"
"And who might you be?" challenged the shrew-like inspector rudely.
Percy held out his badge again, which caused the same shocked expression to appear on the inspector's face.
"Of course, of course, sir," said the inspector, whose tone had completely changed after seeing the badge. "Would you like to proceed to the scene?"
"Lead the way, inspector."
The farm in front of them was a large piece of land, with plenty of green pasture and fences, another similar cottage, and a wooden red barn. On the outside, it seemed to be a regular farm; on the inside, it held the key to the sudden deaths of four people. When they reached the door, Sigerson, already scanning the ground for footprints but finding a jumbled mess all over the place, said in a low voice to Percy behind the inspector's back, "There's not much to be found if all these bungling policemen have already messed with the evidence."
Percy nodded silently to show that he understood, then clearing his voice to attract the attention of the inspector, he commanded in a clear voice, "Inspector. Tell your men to stop working on the investigation while we're here. I want the evidence as preserved to its original state as possible."
The inspector obeyed at once and barked orders to his men, telling them to leave the scene untouched until two newcomers left.
Entering the cottage, Sigerson saw at once a vase toppled over on the ground half intact but with its flowers scattered on the ground. He bent down and gently touched the thin rug that had partially cushioned its fall. It was still very wet. He asked over his shoulder, "Did you or any of your men knock this vase over or was it already positioned like this when you came?"
"We found it lying there when we were called here, sir."
"Someone else must have knocked it over," said Percy.
"Yes…" muttered Sigerson. Then, straightening up, he said, "The bodies are in the barn?"
"Yes, sir. The plumber who came to fix a pipe of theirs discovered the four bodies stashed away in the barn. He came and contacted the police right after the discovery, so nothing should be removed from the scene of the crime."
They went out of the cottage through the back door, but not before Sigerson checked the kitchen and found a curious sight of scurrying mice avoiding a certain dish on the metal drying rack, and arrived at the barn, which was located a short distance away. Hay bales stacked up neatly to the sides filled most of the space. Lying on the muddy ground were the four corpses, lined up in a row. Sigerson bent down and examined the bodies carefully, prodding and shifting things around without disturbing them too much.
"The four victims are the Wycloff family," explained the inspector anxiously, pointing at each one as he spoke. "Jonah and Sarah Wycloff, the aged parents of Jeremiah and Penny Wycloff, were both poisoned, as well as Miss Wycloff over here. Jeremiah's murder was a little more… brutal. See here, sir?"
He turned the dashing young man over carefully, revealing the back of his head. Evidently, he had been struck to death by some object; his entire skull had been smashed in, leaving the head grotesquely shaped. It was, to say the least, a rather gruesome sight. Not too far off, a puddle of blood was violently splattered and mixed among the mud on the floor, leaving drops everywhere around it. Turning to a bucket of bloody water, Sigerson collected his thoughts silently.
More information… There wasn't enough data to support his theory yet…
"Are the times of death different?" asked Sigerson.
"They are, sir. The doctor who was summoned here not long before you two arrived claimed that Mr Wycloff's death was around three hours earlier than the deaths of his wife and children, which puts the estimated time of death at twelve o'clock."
"Inspector!"
A constable came running up to the barn, holding a muddy jacket.
"We found this bloodied jacket along with some other clothes down near the river bank."
"Excellent! Now if you two gentlemen—" said the inspector warily, peering at them from the corner of his eyes, as if expecting them to stop him.
"You can leave; we'll be fine," said Percy, who was also looking at the dead bodies with great interest. Waiting until the inspector was out of earshot, Percy rapidly turned to Sigerson and asked, "Do you have an idea on who the culprit is?"
"I can infer how the scene was played out, but as for the culprit's identity… I need more information to be certain."
Shifting his gaze to the bloody mess on the ground next to the victims, he noticed a mark that instantly caught his attention. A faint imprint of an object was stamped into the muddy ground.
What's this? Something fell and left a mark here, most likely a curved object. Judging from the distance of the miniscule mud splatters that were displaced when this missing object fell, the unknown object must have fallen from at least a metre up. Then, one of the people in the barn, picked up the object and left behind the mark of their finger tips when they scooped up this object. What could they have taken?
"Did you find anything on the dead bodies?" questioned Sigerson, facing an alarmed constable waiting patiently for them to finish their examination.
"Sorry, sir, I don't quite understand your question."
"Were there any possessions or small objects in the victims' hands or pockets?"
"No, sir, there weren't. I can be sure of this, because I was the one that handled the bodies, sir, and could find nothing on them."
That leaves the culprit… The culprit took the missing object and either hid it, destroyed it or kept it. Unless… No— why would any of the victims pick up the object and throw it away? Besides, the mark was made not too long ago… Yes, I think it's safe to assume the culprit was the one with this object; I just need to find out what it was…
When the inspector returned, face red and sweat dripping down his face from searching under the scorching sun for further evidence near the river bank, Sigerson immediately pelted him with a question.
"Yes, that was already like that when we started our investigation, sir."
Everything fits now… The missing object… The broken vase and the wet rug… This boiling hot weather… But if that's true, the chances of someone seeing him stumble around are quite high… There must be some other way out of here for him to be able to leave so unnoticed…
While the inspector and Percy were discussing the potential suspects to arrest, Sigerson passed them and stared down at the corpses once more. The key to this case was the massive difference in the four murders… Mr and Mrs Wycloff, their frail bodies contrasting greatly with the youthful figures of their children, had grey hair, mixed in with the mud unpleasantly. Their children, presumably in their twenties, had rich hazel hair, a similar shade to Blight's.
Moving on, the detective left the barn and into the glaring heat outside. An opening in the fences, barely visible with several branches and clusters of leaves covering it, peeked at the detective as if drawing him in to uncover its secret hidden behind the foliage. Inspecting it closely, he realised that a hidden path through the pine trees was cleared; visible signs of recent human activity were left on the ground and nearby fences.
A faint handprint in this position can only mean one thing: they were using the fence as a handrail to guide them between these two posts and onto this secret pathway. The footprints are also very unclear, but— Hold on… That's the river! That means this should lead to…
Light burst out, as the detective stepped out from the wild vegetation and onto a deserted rocky lane. This lane, which led straight up to the cottage, was dotted with prominent rocks, which jutted out from the ground like lethal teeth. There were scrapes on the rocks and signs of scraping around some of the larger rocks. The last clue was here. Now, all he had to do was arrest the culprit and see if they had any connections with the one he was up against, Blight.