William Monk 06 - Cain His Brother

another who was free to feel, without guilt, all the anger and hatred for his rejection, because he was the son of a father who would not own him, and an uncle for whom he was never good enough, a reflection of the brother he envied, and upon whom he could no longer be revenged, except through the child?”
    The coroner banged on his desk for silence. “Order!” he commanded. “That is a monstrous scene you paint, sir. May God forgive you for it. I should not be surprised if the Ravensbrook family cannot.” He looked at where Milo Ravensbrook sat rigid, white-faced but for the scarlet daubs on his cheeks.
    But it was Enid Ravensbrook’s expression, the rage and the pity in her, which made the coroner draw in his breath,and from which Rathbone knew that Nicolson was not so far wrong.
    “Absolute insanity,” Ravensbrook said between his teeth. “For God’s sake! Everyone here knows there were two brothers! This woman is either wicked or she has lost her wits. Her memory is fuddled with drink.” He swung around. “Genevieve! You have seen both Angus and Caleb!” He was shouting now. “Tell them this is preposterous!”
    “I have seen them,” Genevieve said slowly. “But never together. I have never seen them at the same time. But … it couldn’t be. They were utterly different. No.” She looked at Abigail Ratchett. “No, you have to be mistaken. It was over forty-one years ago. Your memory is confused. How many babies have you delivered? Hundreds?”
    “It was one baby!” Abigail Ratchett said fiercely. “I’m not drunk and I’m not mad, no matter what anyone says.”
    Genevieve turned to Monk, desperation in her face. She had to raise her voice to make herself heard. “You said someone saw them together on the day Angus was killed! Find that man and bring him here. That will solve it!”
    The coroner banged again, demanding silence, then turned to Monk. “Well?” he said sharply. “Did you find such a witness? If you did, what is all the nonsense? It seems you are totally irresponsible, sir!”
    “I went back,” Monk replied, his voice quiet, hard. “I found the witness, and I had him stand exactly where he had seen Angus and Caleb face each other. I stood where he said they did.”
    Now, suddenly, there was not a sound in the room.
    “I was before a mirror, sir,” Monk said with a brilliant smile. “I fought with my own reflection in a glass, and the man watching me relived a mirage.”
    “That proves nothing!” Ravensbrook said thickly. “You have said Caleb confessed to murdering Angus. How can a man murder himself?”
    “He said he had destroyed Angus,” Monk corrected.
    “And that I would never find the body. That was the joke. That is why he laughed. Caleb knew of Angus, and despised him. I think Angus did not know of Caleb. He could not bear to. For him it was truly another person, a dark presence beyond himself, and he was profoundly afraid of him.”
    “Nonsense!” Ravensbrook retaliated, his voice rising. “You cannot prove such a wild and totally scurrilous story. Caleb was insane, certainly, and he murdered his brother. Then when he knew he would be convicted, and hanged, in a last frenzy of hatred, he attacked me too, because, God forgive me, I always loved Angus better. If I am guilty of a sin, it is that, and only that!”
    The voice was rising again. People were moving about.
    “It can be proved.” Monk lifted his voice, staring at the coroner. “The body of Caleb Stone is in the morgue.” He swung around to Selina. “Madam, do you know Caleb’s body well enough to tell it from Angus’s?”
    “Yeah, ’course I do,” she said without blushing.
    He looked at Genevieve. “And you, Mrs. Stonefield, could you tell your husband’s body from Caleb’s?”
    “Yes.” Her voice was no more than a whisper, her face bloodless.
    “Then let us put an end to this farce,” the coroner commanded. “We shall take these two ladies to the morgue.” He rose, his face set, his eyes unblinking. He did not even bother with the uproar in the court or pay the slightest attention to the journalists falling over one another to get out and find messengers.
    The morgue attendant pulled back the sheet and uncovered the naked body as far as the groin. The room was cold, and smelled of water and death. The candlelight was yellow and left the corners in shadow.
    Selina Herries leaned on Hester’s arm, her face calm, almost beautiful, all the brashness and the anger gone