The Mystery Woman (15 page)

“I’m not sure yet but I intend to find out. I must leave Beatrice to you and Sally for now. It would not be good for me to be seen in this room. In any event, I must deal with the murder.”

“
What
murder? What are you talking about?”

“I suspect that the man who was attempting to blackmail you is the victim. The question is, who killed him?”

H
e used the old spiral staircase in the storage room to go back downstairs. When he reached the ground floor he made his way along the long, dark corridor that led to the antiquities chamber. He was aware that he was in a strange state of mind. A volatile storm of emotions seethed inside him. Among those highly charged sensations was a cold fury, a good deal of which was aimed at himself. He had put Beatrice in grave danger tonight.

Everything had gone wrong. Again.
Just as they had a year ago,
he thought. At least this time an innocent woman had not died, but it had been a very near thing.

The massive doors were still closed, just as he had left them a few minutes ago, and still unlocked. Assuming the killer had fled, it was unlikely he would have taken the time to lock the doors on his way out. Still, one never knew. The criminal mind was often predictable but not always.

He pulled out the handkerchief he had used earlier when he had realized that there were dangerous fumes in the room. He held the large square of linen across his nose and mouth.

He entered the cavernous space, struck a light and pulled the door closed behind him.

The scented smoke had largely dissipated but he could still feel some of the disorienting effects. The arm of a nearby statue appeared to move. He ignored the hallucinations and focused on his objective.

He turned up two of the wall sconces. The glare fell across the body on the altar. An unlit lantern sat near one of the dead man’s hands.

He moved forward, listening intently for another presence in the room. He was certain that he had the chamber to himself now. The killer was gone.

The victim was not one of the guests. He was dressed like a high-ranking servant, a valet, perhaps. Joshua doubted that anyone would claim him in the morning.

It was the sight of the wound that sent a flash of knowing through him. The fraudulent valet had been killed with a single, expert thrust to the heart. It was possible there were two highly skilled assassins involved in the affair, but the probability was very low. In any event, professionals killed in unique ways. No two did it in exactly the same manner. There was little doubt but that the man who had murdered Roland Fleming months ago had killed the valet tonight.

What in bloody hell is going on?
Joshua thought.

The valet’s pockets produced a train ticket, some money and a watch but little else. The watch was far too expensive for a valet. The inside of the lid was engraved with a set of flowing initials—
E.R.B
. Joshua doubted that the dead man’s initials, whatever they might be, were the same. The watch had been stolen at some point.

“You were a petty criminal who turned to blackmail,” Joshua said to the dead man. “How did that come about?”

He took a step back from the altar. His boot brushed against an object on the floor. He looked down and saw the envelope filled with money that Beatrice had brought with her earlier.

He picked up the envelope and started a methodical search of the room, gradually expanding the circle around the altar until he found what he was looking for. The killer had not had time to retrieve the remains of the pot of burning incense that he had placed in an alabaster bowl.

Joshua looked at the device for a long time, constructing a variety of possible explanations and conclusions. But in the end he knew he could not escape the truth.

The past was not dead, after all. And now, somehow, it was linked to Beatrice.

T
he smelling salts exploded through her senses.

Beatrice came awake in a rush, mildly amazed to discover that she was alive. She opened her eyes and saw Hannah and Sally bending over her.

“Thank goodness,” Hannah said. “You had us worried there for a bit. How do you feel?”

“Like my brain is on fire,” Beatrice said.

“It’s the salts,” Sally explained with satisfaction. “Nothing like spirits of ammonia to clear the head, I say.”

“Do you still feel faint, Beatrice?” Hannah asked anxiously.

Beatrice sat up against the pillows and contemplated the question. She took a cautious breath and was relieved to discover that the painful sensation was fading.

“No,” she said. “I am definitely not going to faint. I don’t think I would survive another dose of those salts.” She looked around, trying to pull her memories together. “What is going on? Where is Mr. Gage?”

“He went back downstairs after he brought you up here,” Hannah explained. “Something about a body.”

“Oh, Lord, yes, the body on the altar,” Beatrice said. She sank back against the pillows. “I’m afraid that there is going to be a great scene. Nothing like a murder to bring a quick end to a country-house party.”

—

HALF AN HOUR LATER,
Joshua knocked quietly on the door of the bedroom. Hannah let him in and shut the door behind him.

Joshua looked at Beatrice, who was sitting in a chair.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, “thanks to you and Sally’s smelling salts. What is happening?”

“Alverstoke has been awakened and informed that there is a body in his antiquities chamber. He is in shock, I believe, but he managed to send for the local authorities. They will arrive at any moment.”

“I am curious, sir,” she said. “Did you really have a gun with you tonight?”

“No, I dislike guns. They are noisy and not particularly accurate. Nor are they a good choice of weapon for someone who favors discretion, as I do. There is always a great uproar when a gun is employed. But I will admit that firearms can make for an effective threat. In the darkness the killer could not see if I was armed with one.”

“I see,” she said. She remembered what Hannah had said earlier.
Josh is very skilled with knives.

—

“THERE IS SOMETHING
I
want you to know before the authorities get here,” Joshua continued.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I do not pretend to know what happened tonight but I am almost certain of one thing. Whoever murdered the man downstairs is the same person who killed Roland Fleming.”

The cold shock of memory lanced through her. “Dear heaven. I thought I saw his footprints but I told myself that I was hallucinating. What is this all about?”

“Among other things, it means that what happened here is connected to what happened on the night of Fleming’s death.”

“I don’t understand,” Hannah said. “What about the blackmail threat that I received?”

“I think,” Joshua said, “that it was bait in a trap. And I took the bait.”

“Why would someone need to set a trap for you?” Hannah said. “You have been a recluse this past year but you have certainly not been in hiding.”

“No,” Joshua said. “But someone else was.”

Beatrice swallowed. “Me.”

“I cannot be sure yet, but I am starting to think that someone required my services to do what I do best.”

“Find people,” Hannah whispered. “Good grief. Someone sent you to find Beatrice?”

“Not Beatrice,” Joshua said. “Miranda the Clairvoyant. The woman who disappeared the night of Fleming’s murder.”

M
urder.” Lord Alverstoke blotted the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “Astonishing. Utterly astonishing. Murder here at Alverstoke Hall and in the room where I display the finest artifacts in my collections. It’s intolerable. And it will revive all of that silly chatter about a curse.”

“The quickest way to put the talk of a curse to rest is to find the killer,” Joshua said.

Beatrice glanced at him. He had not bothered with a disguise today. The false beard and glasses were gone. When he had awakened Alverstoke’s butler with the news of the murder he had explained his presence in the household with something very close to the truth. He told Alverstoke that he was Hannah’s brother and that he had been staying nearby so as to be available to escort her and her companion back to London at the end of the visit. He had noticed some “odd lights” in the household tonight and, fearing burglars, he had come to investigate.

Alverstoke was still too unnerved by the discovery of the attempted theft and the murder to question the story.

Joshua was growing increasingly impatient with Alverstoke’s dithering. There was an edgy energy about him that spoke louder than words. Beatrice knew he wanted to get on with his investigation but he needed Alverstoke’s cooperation. His lordship, however, appeared oblivious. He was still consumed with outrage and disbelief.

Alverstoke Hall was nearly empty. Word of the murder had ignited a firestorm of bustling servants and hastily summoned carriages. It was amazing, Beatrice thought, how quickly the upper classes could move when threatened with possible involvement in a police investigation. Joshua, Hannah, Sally and herself were the only guests remaining at the castle.

Now all of them with the exception of Sally, who was upstairs packing Hannah’s things, were gathered in the library with their distraught host. Beatrice and Hannah were seated on a sofa. Alverstoke was slumped in the chair behind his vast mahogany desk. Joshua was at the cold hearth. He had one arm braced along the mantel. He gripped the handle of his cane very tightly with his other hand.

The investigation conducted by the local authorities had been perfunctory, to say the least, Beatrice thought. It had seemed obvious to one and all that two thieves had conspired to steal one or more of the artifacts. There had been some sort of quarrel—presumably an argument about which of the villains got the most valuable relics—and murder had ensued.

Lord Alverstoke had been assured that the affair was concluded because it appeared obvious that the murderer was already on his way back to London, where he would disappear into the dark streets of the criminal underworld. There was no reason for the authorities to trouble his lordship with further inquiries.

Joshua, however, was determined to do precisely that.

“I say, I have no interest in finding out who murdered that man,” Alverstoke announced. “My only concern at the moment is locating a good locksmith, one who can protect my collection properly. I shall demand that the old locksmith refund the small fortune I paid him for what he claimed was an unbreakable lock. It’s a miracle that nothing appears to have been stolen last night.”

Beatrice noticed a subtle tightening in Joshua’s jaw. His eyes narrowed in what she suspected was a rather dangerous fashion. She knew that he was on the edge of losing his temper. No good would come of pushing Alverstoke too hard, she thought. Pressure of the sort would only alarm his lordship and make him more difficult to handle. She decided it was time she got involved.

“Sir, you must not blame your old locksmith,” she said smoothly. “It was not his fault that those intruders were able to gain entry into the chamber. The finest lock in the world will not keep out a thief who possesses the key. What Mr. Gage proposes to do is discover how the key was stolen in the first place.” She looked pointedly at Joshua. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Gage?”

Joshua drummed his fingers on the mantel once in a staccato fashion and then instantly stilled his hand. He looked annoyed, this time with himself.

“I told you,” he said, “stealing the key would not have been dif—”

“
Possible
under most circumstances,” she said, interrupting him before he could finish the word
difficult
. Alverstoke would not appreciate hearing that his security arrangements were inadequate. “Precisely. It’s obvious that Lord Alverstoke has taken great care to secure his spectacular collection.”

“Spent a bloody fortune on security,” Alverstoke muttered.

“Yet tonight, two intruders managed to gain access,” Beatrice pointed out gently. “And that is why you might want to consider Mr. Gage’s offer of a very discreet investigation.”

Joshua’s expression darkened further. He had not so much offered his services as he had tried to bludgeon Alverstoke into letting him conduct an inquiry.

Beatrice looked at Hannah, who caught on immediately.

“Miss Lockwood makes an excellent point, sir,” she said to Alverstoke. “How can you protect your valuables in the future if you don’t discover what went wrong this time?”

Alverstoke scowled. “Huh.”

He pondered the question for what seemed a very long time.

“As it happens,” Beatrice said coolly, “Mr. Gage does have some expertise in matters of this sort of thing.”

Joshua slanted her a grim look. She ignored him.

Alverstoke, bushy brows bunched together, peered at Joshua with obvious suspicion.

“Here now, what do you know about conducting a criminal investigation, sir?”

“Done a bit of consulting work for Scotland Yard,” Joshua said in a deliberately vague, confidential tone that implied the consulting work was of a very delicate nature. “Let’s just say that I was able to assist in certain matters where discretion was required. Sorry, can’t divulge the details. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, yes, of course, discretion.” Alverstoke was visibly relieved by that news. “Perhaps Miss Lockwood is right. It would be a good idea to discover how the damned thieves got into the great hall in the first place so that I can prevent that sort of thing from happening again.”

“What a good idea,” Hannah agreed.

“Indeed,” Joshua said. He fixed his attention on Beatrice. “Excellent plan, Miss Lockwood,” he said, his tone very dry.

She gave him a demure smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“Very well then,” Alverstoke said. “In that case, sir, I would appreciate it if you would look into the matter of the stolen key for me.”

“I’ll be happy to conduct the investigation for you,” Joshua said. He took his arm off the mantel and gripped his cane with both hands. “There is one more thing I would suggest.”

Alverstoke looked wary. “Yes?”

“I assume you have a catalog of the antiquities on display in the great hall?”

“Certainly.” Alverstoke was clearly offended by the suggestion that he did not have a complete list of the items in his collection. “I keep excellent records of all my acquisitions.”

“I think it would be wise to conduct a thorough inventory as soon as I have finished my examination of the crime scene,” Joshua said.

Panic flashed across Alverstoke’s face. “Good Lord, man, do you think that the killer might have succeeded in making off with one of my artifacts?”

“We won’t know for certain unless you conduct the inventory,” Joshua said.

He was letting his impatience show again, Beatrice thought. She gave him a quelling look. He was irritated but he did not add anything else.

“That will take a considerable amount of time,” Alverstoke said.

“I understand,” Joshua said. “But it would be extremely helpful to know exactly what, if anything, is missing.”

“Yes, of course.” Alverstoke was starting to become agitated again. “Hadn’t considered the possibility that the thief actually got away with one of my relics.” He rose to his feet and went to the door. “If you will excuse me, I will ask my butler to make arrangements to start the inventory as soon as you have concluded your investigation, Gage.”

Joshua waited until the door closed behind Alverstoke. Then he looked at Beatrice. She gave him a cool smile.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

“I could have convinced him to allow me to investigate,” Joshua said.

“Hah. At the rate you were going it was only a matter of time before he chucked all of us out of the house,” Beatrice said. “Admit it.”

Amused, Hannah raised her brows. “Beatrice is right, Josh, and you know it. You are in her debt.”

“In the old days I did not have to request permission to conduct an investigation,” Joshua grumbled.

“No, you used other methods,” Hannah said briskly. “Namely the calling card of that dreadful Victor Hazelton. But your days of unraveling conspiracies for the Crown are over, thank heavens.”

“Perhaps not quite yet,” Joshua said. He spoke very, very quietly.

Hannah stared at him.

A cold sensation stole over Beatrice. “What do you mean?”

“This situation has become somewhat complicated,” he said.

“What are you talking about?” Hannah demanded.

“I do not have all the answers yet, but I can tell you that the scent of the incense that the killer used last night to drug Beatrice was very familiar. I believe it may have come from the laboratory of a former associate of mine.”

Beatrice frowned. “What do you mean?”

But Hannah was staring at Joshua, appalled. “Josh, are you certain?”

“I believe that the formula for the incense was originally concocted by Clement Lancing, yes,” Joshua said. “It bears all of his hallmarks. What I do not yet know is who employed it tonight. It’s possible Lancing’s notebooks have fallen into someone else’s hands—someone who has the scientific skill that would be required to re-create his formulas. But there is another possibility.”

Hannah clasped her hands together very tightly. “Do you really believe that Lancing might be alive, after all?”

“I must assume that is the case until I can prove otherwise,” Joshua said.

Beatrice frowned. “Will someone kindly tell me what you are talking about?”

Hannah sighed and rose to her feet. “I will leave it to Josh to explain. It is his story, after all. I shall go upstairs to supervise the packing. I’ll have Sally pack your things as well, Beatrice.”

“Thank you,” Beatrice said.

Joshua made his way across the room to open the door for Hannah. She paused on the threshold, clearly troubled.

“I do not like this, Josh,” she said.

“Neither do I, but I must discover the truth. I have no other choice now.”

“No,” Hannah said. “I suppose not.”

She went out into the hall. Joshua closed the door very gently behind her.

Beatrice looked at him. “Well, sir?”

Joshua did not answer immediately. Instead he went to stand at the window. He stood quietly for a moment looking out into the gardens.

After a time he began to talk.

“Clement Lancing was a brilliant chemist who had a passion for archaeology, specifically Egyptian antiquities. He was convinced that, in their quest to discover a perfect way of preserving the bodies of the dead, the ancient Egyptians made a number of scientific discoveries that have been lost over the centuries. His goal was to find the lost secrets.”

“How did you come to know Lancing?”

“We were friends at one time,” Joshua said. His hand tightened around the steel hilt of the cane. “We met at Oxford and discovered that we had a great deal in common. We were both recruited as spies for the Crown by Victor Hazelton.”

“The mysterious Mr. Smith.”

“Yes. Clement Lancing and I conducted a number of investigations together.” Joshua paused. “We were very good at what we did.”

“I see,” Beatrice said.

“Lancing’s scientific interests, his knowledge of languages and his passion for Egyptian antiquities made him extremely valuable to Hazelton. As an archaeologist, Lancing possessed an ideal cover for traveling abroad. He made connections in several capitals with all sorts of people, from street vendors to high-ranking officials. He was able to provide Hazelton with a great deal of information. He also gave me intelligence that I needed to pursue conspirators and traitors in London.”

“And all of this was coordinated through Victor Hazelton?”

“Victor trained us and gave us our assignments,” Joshua said.

“When did Clement Lancing become a dangerous criminal?”

Joshua concentrated on the gardens outside the window. “There was a woman.”

“Of course,” Beatrice said. “I should have guessed.”

“Her name was Emma. She was Victor Hazelton’s daughter. She was very beautiful and quite brilliant.”

“And you and Lancing both desired her.”

Joshua’s mouth twisted in a faint smile. “As I said, she was beautiful and brilliant. And she was Victor Hazelton’s daughter.”

“Right. And Hazelton was your mentor and your employer. I suppose that says it all.”

“Victor was more than a mentor and an employer,” Joshua said quietly. “He was the man who saved me from myself. I will always be grateful to him. But in the end, I failed him.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.” Joshua gripped the windowsill. “In the end, Emma chose Lancing. And while I was disappointed, I understood.”