Murder at Winterbrook

7. Into the Dark Wood

          A fine drizzle commenced falling as Blake and Mort set off for the wood. The cold freezing breeze blew strappingly on the windshield in the process of roaring, howling and whistling. The faint thin drops from the mizzle dripped on the windshield and Blake, who was sitting on chauffeur's seat and driving cautiously, would switch on the windshield wiper, pushing off and getting rid of the pitter-pattering droplets which blocked the sight of the view.

"Can I ask you why we are going to the wood again at this dark hours, now?" a curious Mort asked, cutting off the silence which prevailed over the night like a pair of scissors, apart from the pitter-patter of the dribble which showered on both the car and land.

"OK," Blake said, taking a deep breath from the cold air which was circulating inside the car then exhaling it heavily, continuing, rather fluently and precipitately, "The murderer has left something behind."

"What?" Mort questioned along with his train of thoughts working in his mind, guessing about what a murderer would leave behind like that.

"A mistake. A silly but awful mistake," Blake went on, rummaging for something in his coat-pocket and slipping off a watch, an old-fashioned but expensive-looking watch along with roman numbers, "I spotted this watch on the ground just a little on the right of the woman in the red prom... what's her name now?..."

"Clara Rose," Mort said, wanting Blake to proceed on with the clarification and find the answer that was stuck in his mind fast.

"Yes, Clara Rose," Blake progressed on with his elucidation about Mort's question which was getting and growing on with more and more enlightenment, "And I think that this watch belongs to Mr Gerome."

"You are suspecting him to be the murderer!?" Mort interrogated with a frenzy of both a mix of puzzlement and amazement.

"Not actually," Blake said, slightly bitterly and low-voiced, "I only suspect those you fall into my trap. He must have been stressed because of his watch being lost in the wood and fear of it being found out and being declared as the murderer. And even though, he could not go to retrieve it as the police were still working there when we came to meet him, so, he must be on a run to find it in the dark. That's why I wanted to go into the woods again immediately as I wasn't really doubting that Clara Rose would have any link with this case."

"Ah!" Mort nodded, much sympathetically.

By then, they have already covered three-quarter of Darlington Road where there was already a thick briar which covered the place up along with its copious layers of clouds which Mort did not notice as he was fully concentrated into the conversation.

"We'll have to go by foot," Blake announced, stopping the car, and turned off the flashlights. He got out two well-lighting torches and gave Mort one of them which they then switch on and began the trail into the dark wood. They stepped into the dark wood along with their strong torches.

"Are you sure, that it's the right place?" Mort asked.

"Yes," Blake simply replied, proceeding denser.

"Are you sure?" Mort said, along with a slight gasp, needing a full guarantee.

"Of course," Blake told, clearing his voice without making much noise, "I can still picturise this fully grown-up and crooked tree." He moved the light of the torch at the tree of which he was talking.

They progressed into the densely dark wood and reached almost eight metres away from the place where Clara Rose was seen dead.

Suddenly, a flash of light came ahead of them. Blake and Mort stayed still, switching their torches off then rushed rapidly towards the light which later disappeared from there. Finally, they reached where the light was last seen projected. They switched their torches again, moving the light around the area. Mort advanced ahead and Blake stayed where he was, smelling the fresh scent of his prey and at the same time sensing danger then, taking the left way through the woods.

Blake advanced along with light of the torch which hit against the moving clouds of the fog that was gradually diminishing.

He heard a crisp of leaves somewhere around. He stayed still, vigilant.

Abruptly, an arm flung around his neck, unable to breath and instead groaning with suffocation. The torch dropped on the ground and Blake tried all his best to call Mort at last. Blake moved his hands into his coat-pocket and got out his revolver then knocked it in the person who was strangling him. The unknown person released Blake and... Bang! a big and solid branch of tree struck against his head and he laid in the lifeless ground breathing heavily with agony, blood streaming out of his head.

Brusquely, flashes of torchlight came and soon the heaven-sent Mort came, crouching down next to Blake and a frenzy of bafflement came up his mind when seeing the blood streaming out of Blake's head. He squatted and said, "Blake, are you okay!?"

"Does bother about me and catch the bloody person..." a half-conscious Blake spoke.

Mort looked ahead but the person was already lost of sight, completely vanished into the dark wood.