William Monk 04 - A Sudden Fearful Death

mouth.
    Monk turned to Hester. “Good evening, Miss Latterly,” he continued coolly, his disappointment undisguised.
    “Good evening, Mr. Monk,” Hester answered, turning around but not rising. “You look out of temper. Have you a disagreeable case?”
    “Most criminal cases are disagreeable,” he responded. “Like most illnesses.”
    “They both happen,” Hester observed. “Very often to people we like and can help. That is immeasurably pleasing—at least it is to me. If it is not to you, then you should look for another form of employment.”
    Monk sat down. He was unexpectedly tired, which was ridiculous because he had done very little. “I have been dealing with tragedy all day, Hester. I am in no mind for trivial sophistry.”
    “It is not sophistry,” she snapped. “You were being self-pitying about your work. I pointed out what is good about it.”
    “I am not self-pitying.” His voice rose in spite of his resolution that it would not. “Good God! I pity everyone in the affair, except myself. I wish you would not make these slipshod judgments when you know nothing about the situation or the people.”
    She stared at him in fury for a moment, then her face lit up with appreciation and amusement. “You don’t know what to do. You are confounded for the moment.”
    The only answer that came to his lips was in words he would not use in front of Callandra.
    It was Callandra who replied, putting her hand on Hester’s arm to restrain her.
    “You should not feel badly about it, my dear,” she said to Monk gently. “There was never much of a chance of learning who it was—if it was anyone. I mean, if it was really an assault.”
    Hester looked to Callandra, then to Monk, but she did not interrupt.
    “It was an assault,” Monk said more calmly. “And I know who it was, I just don’t know what to do about it.” He ignored Hester, but he was very aware of the change in her; the laughter was gone and suddenly her attention was total and serious.
    “Because of what Mrs. Penrose will do with the knowledge?” Callandra asked.
    “No—not really.” He looked at her gravely, searching her curious, clever face. “Because of the ruin and the pain it will bring.”
    “To the offender?” Callandra asked. “To his family?”
    Monk smiled. “No—and yes.”
    “Can you speak of it?” Hester asked him, all friction between them brushed aside as if it did not exist. “I assume you have to make a decision, and that is what troubles you?”
    “Yes—by tomorrow.”
    “Can you tell us?”
    He shrugged very slightly and sat back farther in his chair. She had the one he really wanted, but it hardly mattered now. His irritation was gone.
    “Marianne lives with her married sister, Julia, and her sister’s husband, Audley Penrose. Marianne says she was raped when she was in the summerhouse in the garden, but she did not know the man.”
    Neither Hester nor Callandra interrupted him, nor did their faces betray any disbelief.
    “I questioned everyone in the neighborhood. No one saw any stranger.”
    Callandra sighed. “Audley Penrose?”
    “Yes.”
    “Oh dear. Does she love him? Or think she does?”
    “No. She is horrified—and apparently hurt,” he said wearily. “She would rather be put out in the street as an immoral woman than have Julia know what happened.”
    Hester bit her lip. “Has she any conception what that would be like?”
    “Probably not,” he replied. “But that hardly matters. Julia won’t allow that to happen—I don’t think. But Marianne doesn’t want me to tell anyone. She says she will deny it anyway, and I can understand that. Audley will deny it, naturally. He has to. I have no idea what Julia will believe, or what she will have to say she believes.”
    “Poor creature,” Hester said with sudden passion. “What a fearful dilemma. What have you told her?”
    “That I cannot find out who assaulted Marianne and I wish to be released from the case.”
    Hester looked across at him, her face lit with warmth of admiration and respect.
    He was caught unaware by how sweet it was to him. Without warning the bitterness vanished from the decision. His own pride slipped away.
    “And you are content with that?” Callandra broke the moment.
    “Not content,” he replied. “But I can think of nothing better. There is no honorable alternative.”
    “And Audley Penrose?” she pressed.
    “I’d like to break his neck,” he said savagely. “But that is a luxury I