MURDER IN THE TOWER: JACK'S JOURNAL #2 (PAPERBACK)

Here’s where it really starts. It’s been a little over a month since I last wrote in this journal. I almost assumed I was safe! After Cate and I learned the incredible truth about the castle and its hidden secret, we took some time to settle in. Cate began research on her new asset and her ancestors. The local librarian and town gossip, Mrs. Campbell, also twisted Cate’s arm to host a giant Halloween party on the grounds.

With all the work for this major event, I assumed Cate’s mind and most of our waking hours would be devoted to the party. After all, it required the use of the ballroom. The last time anyone used the ballroom was likely two Countesses ago! We’d also want the grounds to look sharp. It’d be the first time we welcomed guests onto Dunhaven’s grounds in decades!

Earlier today, I worked on a few items that needed tending near the ballroom when Lady Cate sought me out.

“Lady Cate!” I said as she rounded the corner and approached me. “And how are you today?” I assumed she had another list of to-be-completed items from everyone’s favorite party planner, Isla Campbell.

“I’m good, how are you?” Cate inquired. That’s when I noticed the sparkle in her eye. This wasn’t about the upcoming party. Cate had something else on her mind.

“Well, I was fine, but you’ve got that mischievous look in your eye so I’m betting I won’t be in a few minutes.”

Cate frowned at me. “I have no such look,” she claimed.

Perhaps the lassie didn’t realize it, but she DEFINITELY had a look.

“No? Then what’s that in your hand?” I asked referencing the folder she held. “Just some random paperwork that you happen to be carrying about?”

“Just a few articles about a former castle owner. I wanted to get your impression on it.”

“My impression, huh?” I doubted that. Cate had a plan. And one I probably wouldn’t like. I grabbed the folder from her and gave a quick scan of the articles inside. The first one, entitled MURDER AT DUNHAVEN CASTLE, detailed a suspected murder on the estate during a Halloween ball in 1856. A footman was found dead. Details were few and far between given the recentness of the murder. The body of one Andrew Forsythe had been found near the turret after having fallen from the window three stories up. The fall, though, did not kill the young man. Instead, his skull had been bashed in.

I scanned the next article. It detailed a stunning turn of events. When the police arrived to search the castle for evidence, the castle’s proprietor, Randolph MacKenzie, confessed to the crime. He cited a fit of jealous, drunken rage over the perception that the footman and his wife shared an intimate glance. Lord MacKenzie, who had previously provided an alibi for the time of the murder, stunned police with his confession. He maintained his conscience did not allow him to continue his ruse. The remaining articles in the folder detailed his trial and the subsequent fallout. Despite his alibi being corroborated by several witnesses, Lord MacKenzie was convicted and sentenced to death. He left behind his wife and infant son.

I flicked the folder closed. “Well?” Cate questioned.

“My impression is this Randolph fellow got in a jealous rage and killed someone, then he couldn’t live with the guilt, confessed and they sentenced him to death.”

Cate frowned at me. She didn’t approve of my explanation. To be honest, I’m not sure I did either, but I approved of it more than time traveling to discover another explanation. “Really? It doesn’t strike you as odd?”

“No?” I answered. It seemed plausible. “Perhaps he was a hothead, or maybe his wife was having an affair. I don’t find it that strange.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Cate said. She paced the floor in front of me as she detailed her case. She’d given this quite a bit of thought. She wasn’t going to let this one go. “It’s all too convenient. He has an alibi then out of the blue he confesses? He leaves his beloved wife to raise his infant son alone while he rots in prison awaiting the death penalty. Why would he do that? He would have gotten away with murder by just letting his alibi stand.”

She had a point, though there were any number of reasons why someone may do an about-face in this situation. “Possibly someone threatened to tell, or he didn’t expect someone in his position would get that kind of sentence. Could be any number of things, who knows?”

“Well, Randolph knows, and perhaps a few others,” Cate answered with that twinkle in her eye that made my blood run cold.

“Cate…” I began.

Cate interrupted me. “I’m just saying maybe something else was going on there and we should check into it.”

“Caaaaaaaaate,” I chided.

“And we have the capability to check into it. The year in the article is one of the access points your grandfather told us about.”

“CATE!” I exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Come on, Jack! My ancestor was accused of murder and was put to death! What if he was innocent?”

“First, he confessed, he wasn’t accused,” I corrected. “And second, what if he wasn’t? You’re willing to risk our lives to find out if he’s innocent?”

Cate made a face at me. “How are we risking our lives, Jack? All I’m suggesting is that we go back and take a peek around, perhaps prevent a murder, perhaps save an innocent man’s life.”

Oh, only that, huh, I pondered. This was trouble waiting to happen. Anything could occur. We could permanently alter history! We could erase ourselves from the timeline. We could die in 1856 before we were even born!

“Do you remember, Cate, the conversation we shared with my grandfather about not changing history when we first learned about this? Because I do. What if we change history so much that one or both of us disappear? We shouldn’t be messing around with this stuff.”

“I won’t do anything that will jeopardize our lives,” Cate promised.

“That’s the point, Cate. You don’t know what tiny thing you might do that would jeopardize our lives! There’s a butterfly effect.”

“Where is your sense of adventure?” Cate prodded, trying a new tactic.

“My sense of adventure?” I questioned. “My sense of adventure is ordering something other than the fish and chips at the pub. Not romping around in other time periods solving murders!”

“So, you agree the murder needs to be solved!” Cate exclaimed.

Oh, I’d stuck my foot in it this time. “Bah, Cate! I won’t win this argument, will I?”

“Probably not,” Cate admitted. “Let’s just look around, at least. We have a month before the murder. We’ll see who the players are and if anything seems amiss.”

“Only that, huh?” I answered. I didn’t buy it, but I wasn’t going to win this one. Perhaps it would be interesting.

“Hey, I’d go myself, but it’s against the rules.”

“Wonderful, now you’re concerned with the rules. I guess that’s something at least, you’re obeying one rule. Okay, okay. So, when do you want to go?”

“Hmm,” Cate pondered. “Well, it’s September twenty-sixth. We’ll have a little over one month before the murder. How about Sunday? Perhaps we can take a quick peek around while most everyone in the household is at church? Get the lay of the land before we move on to trying to figure out what happened.”

“Sunday it is, I guess,” I agreed. I considered this a terrible idea, but a small part of me got a tiny bit excited. To be clear, a minuscule part.

“Excellent! Glad you agree!”

“Oh, I far from agree,” I informed Cate. “I’m a conscientious objector, but I’ll do it. If only to be sure I stop you from erasing some vital part of history by accident.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “You’re so dramatic,” she said with a laugh.

“Says the person who suspects a centuries-old murder, that has been solved, I might add, has some dark secret lurking in it that still needs solving.”

“We shall see,” Cate said. “I’ll get everything ready for Sunday! I’ll let you get back to work!”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Fantastic, on both counts.”

As Cate wandered away, I stared after her. What had I gotten myself into? Another trip through time. This time not just for a quick peek around. Sure, our first trip wouldn’t be too terrible. At least, that was my sincere hope. But it wouldn’t end there! Solving a murder?! I wasn’t sure I was up for this.

With a sigh, I returned to my work. I had all the way until Sunday to push it to the depths of my mind.

As I settled in front of my TV for the night, my mind preferred not to cooperate with me. Try as I might, the pending investigation shoved itself to the front of my mind.

The TV show droned on in the background as I considered the details. Randolph MacKenzie, lord of the manor, killed a man, or so it appeared. He confessed to the crime. But first, he’d given an alibi. A solid one, it seemed. Several others had corroborated his statements. Perhaps they were loyal servants, perhaps they had been threatened.

Had Randolph’s alibi been a farce? Suppose it was. That would mean he killed a man over a shared glance with his wife. Crimes of passion were not uncommon. It could be true. But was it? Had Victoria MacKenzie engaged in an extramarital affair and stoked the wrath of her husband enough to lead to murder?

Perhaps this was an excuse. Perhaps Randolph had some sordid business dealings with the man that had gone wrong. I decided it was entirely possible for Randolph MacKenzie to have murdered someone for any number of reasons. We had no idea what kind of temperament he had. Perhaps he was a hothead. He certainly had a reputation to this day with the town gossips who maintained that he engaged in all sorts of shameful behavior. The story that he kept a woman locked in the tower room made its way around the town over a century after he lived.

Still, Cate had a point. He gave the police an alibi. That alibi was confirmed by several others. He could have gotten away with murder had he merely left it stand. He confessed because his conscience wouldn’t allow him to remain silent. Would a man prone to these types of base behaviors confess to a crime when he was poised to get away with murder?

No, I decided. As much as I hated to admit it, Cate was correct. Randolph MacKenzie could be innocent. And now it was our job to prove it.

1. The Secret Keepers
2. Murder in the Tower