He laughed shortly, and the pain in his chest eased enough for him to move again. “Strangulation appears to be the cause.” He didn’t ask how she’d got past Oz—a duke was no match for her—but knelt down to inspect the body. The fingers were soft. “Rigor mortis has passed. Death most likely occurred last night.”
“After dinner?”
“I’d say a few hours later. Decay hasn’t set in very far. I ought to have…” Unable to say more, he met Poppy’s eyes and saw the worry in them. And the anger.
“This is not your fault, Win.”
“Mmm.” It felt very much like it was.
Poppy stood a bit closer to him, as though she were somehow shielding him. “Isley’s doing?”
“Mmm.” Win wasn’t ready to formulate a theory. He bent closer to the swollen neck. Five puncture wounds were evenly spaced in the shape of a hand.
Poppy inspected them too and sucked in a sharp breath. “Colonel Alden’s false arm is missing.”
A quick search found the steel limb on the floor beneath the tangle of sheets. Squatting by the bed, Win studied the artificial limb. It was a solid, cold weight in Win’s palm. A small smear of blood marred the index finger.
“Well, he couldn’t very well have been strangled by his own arm, now could he?” Poppy said. Win glanced up, and her brows snapped together. “I do not mean he choked himself to death. I mean the thing cannot be manipulated in such a manner as to strangulate a grown and fighting male.”
Win stroked the scar at the corner of his mouth. It was no mustache, but it helped him settle. “Perhaps it could.” He turned the hand over, and gravity pulled the loose fingers back a fraction, making it appear as if the hand was opening up to him. “If the colonel was another victim of Isley, perhaps the bloody thing possessed a will of its own.” Given the things he’d seen lately, what was one murderous arm in the scheme of things? “Perhaps Alden too had signed a contract, and his time was up.”
“If this is part of Isley’s machinations, why kill Alden with his own arm? Such a thing is bound to raise questions.”
He sighed and rose to his feet. “I don’t know.” Needing to think more clearly, he paced, tapping the artificial arm against his thigh as he walked. Poppy noted the movement and lifted a brow. With a noise of irritation, Winston passed her the arm and kept pacing. “Damn, but you are correct. Why kill him now? Isley clearly lured him here…”
He stopped before the bed to glare out of the window, and something crinkled beneath his toe. Win stepped back. Just under the bed lay a crumpled piece of vellum. “What do we have here?” Win frowned as he smoothed the paper out and read its contents. “It’s a note from Colonel Alden to me.” His frown grew. “He says he remembered something about Moira Darling. Something I might find enlightening.”
“Whatever that means.” Frustration pulled Poppy’s voice taut.
“Mmm, the script cuts off in a violent slash of ink.” Win glanced down at the sad specter of the colonel. “I gather he was interrupted and killed for his efforts.”
“Typical of Isley. His puppet cut himself free of his strings, and so Isley destroys him.” Her brown eyes darkened. “That is what he does, Win. He makes promises, makes you believe that he is a gentleman. But he is a killer, through and through. And I fear…” her jaw trembled for one moment before tensing, “I fear that regardless of whether we find this Moira Darling or not, he will do the same to you.”
“We’ve no proof that it was Isley.” Win’s gut reaction was that it did not fit with his behavior. “Regardless, we cannot become emotional. Stay on task, sweet. That is all we can do now.”
“How can you be so calm?”
“How can I not? Our child’s life is at stake. I will not muck it up by falling victim to rash behavior.” No matter how badly he wanted to pound on Jones’s face until his hands gave out.
Poppy looked at him for one agonizing moment, then nodded sharply before lowering her gaze. Her brow furrowed as she peered closely at the scrollwork upon the limb. All at once, she flinched as if slapped, and he moved to take it from her, fearful for one moment that it had come alive or hurt her in some manner, but she held up