Fatal Masquerade Read online

  Alkmene forced herself to walk briskly and not betray her dejection.

  Although her rational mind knew Cobb’s death had set all of this in motion, she felt guilty, as if it was her own fault.

  The devastation she was about to witness as Mrs Hargrove’s betrayal came to light.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As soon as Hargrove heard from them that Mrs Carruthers was having a nervous breakdown in the cellar, shattering his expensive wine bottles, he rang for the butler and ordered him, with another man, to calm the woman down and save what was left.

  ‘A nervous breakdown,’ he muttered, shaking his head, as the butler hurried off to follow orders. ‘Someone as strong and dependable as she is. I knew her health wasn’t what it used to be, but her willpower was unbelievable. She never shied away from anything. It must have been the shock of Cobb’s murder.’

  Alkmene bit her lip. Hargrove had believed Mrs Carruthers to be a strong woman, never having noticed her pain about her deceased husband, her loneliness. He had merely ascribed her haggard expression after a broken night full of nightmares to her deteriorating health. But her willpower made up for all of that, wasn’t that so?

  People could be so blind.

  Hargrove said, ‘Well, it’s a good thing you found out about her behaviour and could tell me. Thank you.’ He returned to his writing desk as if he was finished with them.

  ‘Sir...’ Jake said, moving his weight to the back of his feet.

  Alkmene sensed he wasn’t sure how to broach this difficult subject.

  She decided a diversion first might be better. ‘Cobb’s death upset us all. I noticed you took a long and hard look at his body. Did you see anything special that might help?’

  Hargrove seemed startled by this sudden topic. ‘I was just… I wanted… I...’ He fumbled with his hands.

  Alkmene gave him a sharp once-over. If he hadn’t leaned over the body to look at something about it, it had to have been…

  ‘You picked something up off the floor.’ She held his gaze. ‘You had spotted something there that you recognized. You knew whose it was and you removed it.’

  Hargrove blinked. He seemed to hesitate between denial and admission.

  ‘I can understand,’ Jake said, ‘that you are loyal to your family. But the matter must come out.’

  ‘Your brother-in-law…’ Alkmene began.

  Hargrove raised a hand to halt her. ‘I know about Joseph’s spending. The racehorse and everything else. I will set it straight. I’m not going to the police. I’ll not let Felicia get involved in a terrible scandal. I cannot, for the sake of my first wife’s memory.’

  Alkmene waited a moment. ‘You knew?’

  ‘Yes, I had received a letter about it. It went missing. I assumed Cobb had taken it. That he wanted me to pay money to have it returned to me. But I wasn’t falling for that and I told him so to his smug, arrogant face. The afternoon of the ball.’

  ‘I see.’ Alkmene was taken off guard now that Hargrove turned out to know far more than she had assumed. If he had already told Cobb he wouldn’t pay for the return of the letter, he had no more reason to argue with the arrogant servant.

  Still, she asked, ‘Did you go to the boathouse that night?’

  ‘No. I was with Zeilovsky. I told you and the police.’ Hargrove made a dismissive gesture. ‘I had no reason to kill Cobb over something like that racehorse business.’

  ‘But Cobb had more material than that,’ Jake said. ‘And on people closer to you.’

  Hargrove’s mouth tightened. ‘Cobb is dead, it matters no more. It’s better to let these issues rest now.’

  Jake shook his head. ‘I’m afraid it’s not as easy as that. Cobb had accomplices he delivered the information to. We also know for a fact that he didn’t have to leave this house to make delivery to them. That means they came here.’

  Hargrove hitched a brow. ‘That’s ridiculous. I know everybody who comes here.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Jake said. ‘We have reason to believe one of the guests at the ball was Cobb’s contact. Part of a large blackmail ring, led from London. They place a servant in a household. Let him gather information on the inhabitants and guests. Let him deliver it in exchange for bearer bonds.’

  Hargrove stared at them. ‘What are you saying?’ he asked hoarsely. ‘That this nightmare hasn’t ended yet?’

  Jake leaned over to him. ‘This nightmare, as you call it, will certainly not end when an innocent girl swings for a crime she didn’t commit. Your maid Megan didn’t kill Cobb. Megan is in prison alone and afraid. She needs your help.’

  Alkmene added, ‘Megan is somebody’s daughter, too. That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it? That Denise is involved. The item you picked off the floor of the boathouse belonged to her.’

  Hargrove sat down behind his desk and rested his head in his hands. He took deep, shuddering breaths.

  Alkmene glanced at Jake. He shook his head a moment, indicating they shouldn’t press on now, but wait until Hargrove was ready to speak.

  At last the oil magnate leaned back, showing them his haggard face with a ring of wild hair standing on edge. ‘It wasn’t Denise,’ he said in a whisper. ‘What I saw on the floor and picked up and took away, away from scrutiny, from the police, disturbing a murder investigation, obstructing justice… A punishable offence...’

  He swallowed hard. ‘I did it all for my son, my heir. You see...’ He reached down and opened a drawer, rummaged through it, then extracted something and showed it to them.

  It was a heavy gold charm of a hunting dog, a masterpiece of an expert goldsmith.

  Hargrove rasped, ‘It is unique of its kind. I’d recognize it anywhere. It is… my wife’s.’

  After a long, shocked silence, Alkmene asked, ‘But for the masked ball she wouldn’t wear such a thing?’

  ‘Perhaps she carried it with her as a good-luck charm. She was superstitious like that. She is.’ His voice caught. ‘Just listen to me. I’m already talking about her in the past tense, like...’

  He rubbed his face again. ‘I never liked Cobb. He was so smug, so full of himself. But Mrs Carruthers assured me he was doing a fine job and I didn’t want to ruffle her feathers by dismissing him without good reason. He was also related to our cook, and my wife assured me it would be a real disaster if Cook left. So…’

  An involuntary smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Then he looked grim again. ‘I should never have kept him around. I should have known, understood, that a man like him would always crave the forbidden. That which was out of his reach. Like his master’s wife. He must have attempted to assault her, and in a panic she stabbed him. The charm fell from her clothes on the floor as she turned away and ran. My poor darling.’

  Alkmene thought about the mysterious Matthew, Mrs Zeilovsky’s insinuations to Denise that the baby was not her father’s. Hargrove called his wife a poor darling now, but how would he respond if some ugly truth came out?

  She asked carefully, ‘Have you asked her about that night, where she was, what...’

  ‘Of course not.’ Hargrove eyed her indignantly. ‘How could I? You’ve seen what happened this morning, Alkmene. The smallest of incidents can cause her to collapse. She is carrying my son, my heir. Nothing can go wrong now.’

  Knowing a lot was very wrong already, Alkmene felt faint herself.

  Jake said, ‘But if you haven’t asked her a thing, how can you know she was involved with Cobb’s death?’

  Hargrove made a hand gesture. ‘What was her charm doing there on the floor?’

  ‘It suggests she had been there, but it doesn’t prove when. She was the hostess so she might have gone out to check a few things beforehand. As Alkmene pointed out, the charm wouldn’t have gone with her costume for the night. She must have lost it earlier.’

  Hargrove looked relieved at the suggestion. ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Jake said cautiously. ‘Could we ask Mrs Hargrove a few things? We will be very ge
ntle with her. But you must see it is in her interest, too, to have this cleared up. As Megan isn’t the killer, that person is still at large. A danger to others in this house. We must find out what really happened at the boathouse before more people get hurt.’

  Hargrove nodded wearily. ‘I suppose you’re right. Yes, of course you are. You’ve always been sensible, Alkmene. I was happy when Denise befriended you. She needs someone who doesn’t run after every whim.’

  He rose. ‘I’ll come up with you.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Jake hurried to say, ‘it is better if we talk to Mrs Hargrove, just Alkmene and me. Then she’ll never have to think you had any suspicion of her. Alkmene can tell her she found the charm when she discovered the dead body.’

  Hargrove looked from the one to the other.

  Alkmene was certain he wouldn’t accept this; that he would become angry and demand to know what was going on, what they were keeping from him.

  But he nodded, apparently relieved, and handed the charm to her. ‘You do that. You find out and report back to me. Yes, much better. No shadow on our relationship. Our future happiness once our son is here.’

  His whole face brightened with expectation. ‘People will laugh at me, I bet, saying I’m but an old fool. But when my wife died, I believed my life was over. Now it has started all over again. I feel better than I have ever done before. My son will make everything complete.’

  Alkmene clenched the charm. Hargrove’s happiness was almost impossible to bear in the light of what they suspected. What they were trying to hide from him. Did they even have the right?

  She and Jake left the study to go to Mrs Hargrove’s boudoir. In the corridor Jake said softly, ‘Poor man. He really means it that his life has started all over again and he’s so happy now. But if Mrs Hargrove was really betraying him with another man, if she’s carrying that lover’s baby, Hargrove won’t be happy much longer.’

  Alkmene followed Jake upstairs, with a sense of utter dread.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At Mrs Hargrove’s boudoir, Alkmene knocked. It took a while before Mrs Hargrove came to the door. She gave them a wan smile. ‘I’m better, thank you.’ It sounded like she meant: leave me alone.

  ‘There’s something important I must discuss with you,’ Alkmene said. ‘We can do it anywhere you want. But it must be very private.’

  Mrs Hargrove gave her a startled look, as if she already suspected something bad.

  She glanced down the corridor to the left and right, as if considering in what other place they might speak. Then she gestured that they should come in.

  The room, which formed an antechamber for her bedroom, had beautiful wallpaper in warm golden and cream hues, a sitting area with a sofa and chairs, a low table and, on the wall over the fireplace, a mirror in three parts.

  In the mirror’s reflection, Alkmene saw Mrs Hargrove three times, each time just a little differently. Who was the real Mrs Hargrove?

  A warm, caring woman who tried to make her husband happy?

  A shallow creature who had run after pleasure and who hadn’t thought about consequences when she went with her lover?

  Or something in between? A woman who did love her husband but who had also been vulnerable, open to temptation when it had come calling.

  Alkmene clenched the charm in her palm.

  Mrs Hargrove pointed to the sitting area. ‘Please be seated.’ She herself sat down on a stool, arranging her robe around her.

  Alkmene glanced at Jake. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod, either to speed her up or to encourage her. It did help that he was with her. Had been before at difficult moments.

  She cleared her throat. ‘How are you feeling now? I have something to discuss and it might be… upsetting to you.’

  Mrs Hargrove hitched a brow. ‘Someone was murdered close to my home. That has been a major shock. I still feel it in my very bone marrow. And Denise… She has been acting so strangely. I’m worried...’ Her voice trailed off.

  Alkmene surveyed her. ‘Has your husband invited Zeilovsky here to evaluate Denise’s behaviour?’

  Mrs Hargrove sighed. ‘My husband likes Zeilovsky. He thinks he is a man with great ideas for renewing psychiatry. He also believes he is a strong personality with influence on people. I think he wanted Zeilovsky to change Denise’s mind about things. Her future, certain… friendships my husband wanted to discourage.’

  Alkmene tilted her head. ‘If I’ve read Denise right at all, and I do think I know her a bit from being friends with her, she abhors the sort of stiff, self-conscious man Zeilovsky is. Why would she listen to him?’

  ‘It seems Zeilovsky has… ways of planting ideas into people’s heads. I think my husband hoped he could plant an idea in Denise’s head. An idea for her future more in line with what my husband wants for her.’

  Alkmene blinked. ‘Plant ideas?’ She thought about Mrs Zeilovsky’s Turkish delight. Was there something in it to make people more receptive to what was being said to them? Was that Zeilovsky’s treatment?

  But the sinister doctor had not been present when Denise was being ‘treated.’ It had seemed more like Mrs Zeilovsky’s personal project.

  Odd.

  Mrs Hargrove sighed. ‘I have to admit I find Zeilovsky not only self-conscious, as you put it, but outright… unpleasant. He pretends to look inside people’s heads, read their minds. He makes you feel like… you are a specimen being studied under a microscope. I despise him and his methods. But Denise is Franklin’s daughter. He has the right to decide about her future.’

  Jake said, ‘Mr Hargrove shared with me how happy he is that you will bear him another child. He seems convinced it will be a boy. That child will be a part of both of you. How will you act, then, with a man like Zeilovsky in your lives?’

  Mrs Hargrove seemed startled. ‘The baby will take some time to grow up. I trust that by that time things will be different.’

  It sounded more like she hoped it, rather than being certain it would be that way.

  Alkmene frowned. ‘There will always be people like Zeilovsky around. If you don’t like him, you should discuss it with your husband. Explain to him that you don’t want such influences in your home, your family.’

  Mrs Hargrove laughed. ‘That shows you’re not married, Alkmene. It would be pointless for me to mention anything like that to my husband. He considers himself the master of the house and doesn’t listen to me.’

  Alkmene wasn’t deterred. ‘How can you know for sure if you haven’t tried?’

  Mrs Hargrove clenched her hands together. She stared at them. ‘I… I know that if I discuss my concerns with Franklin, he will talk to Zeilovsky about it. And I’m afraid that if that sinister man knows how I really feel about him, things will only get worse. He doesn’t like to be crossed.’

  ‘I believe you’re right about that,’ Alkmene said. ‘But not doing anything won’t help either.’

  She glanced at Jake. He nodded like he had before. Go on, his eyes said, do it now.

  Alkmene took a step towards Mrs Hargrove. She said softly, ‘When I was at the boathouse, after Cobb’s dead body had been discovered, there was something on the floor. Something that did not belong there.’

  She couldn’t say she had picked it up and kept it because that wasn’t true. If Mrs Hargrove decided to make a scene, or even demand the police be informed, Alkmene could be accused of having kept back evidence. She could end up in a lot of trouble.

  So she simply opened her hand and showed the golden charm to Mrs Hargrove.

  The woman grew deathly pale. Alkmene was worried she would faint again, and Jake even made a movement, as if to rush up to her the instant she started to slip down her stool.

  But Mrs Hargrove gritted her teeth and kept her eyes on Alkmene. ‘You found that in the boathouse?’

  ‘Yes. On the floor close to Cobb’s body. I know it’s yours because you wore it before.’ This was a half-truth, but at this stage she had to keep Mr Hargrove out of it. ‘If you lost i
t there...’

  ‘I didn’t lose it there. I lost it earlier. Cobb must have picked it up and taken it. He was a callous man who might stoop to thievery if he believed he could get away with it.’

  Alkmene might have believed that earlier. But right now she felt there had to be more to it. Mr Hargrove had kept this piece of evidence from the police for a reason. ‘If Cobb had taken it, earlier, why would he have had it with him on the night of the ball? Besides, it wasn’t on his person or in his hand. It was on the floorboards, away from the body. Dropped by the killer, perhaps?’

  Mrs Hargrove swallowed hard. ‘I had been in the boathouse in the days before the murder occurred to see to preparations. Maybe I dropped it then. Why does it have to have been dropped there the night when...’

  ‘Of course we can’t be one hundred per cent sure it was dropped that night,’ Alkmene admitted. ‘But Megan was there for a long time, serving guests before the murder occurred. I suppose she had dull moments when the boats had left and she had nothing to do but look around her. You know how it is when you’re stuck in a place and you have time on your hands. You study everything simply because there’s nothing else to occupy your mind. I’m sure, if some beautiful golden trinket had been lying on the floor, she would have seen it.’

  Mrs Hargrove pursed her lips. ‘It was dim in there.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. There were two lanterns burning brightly, on the very table behind which Megan stood. The charm was lost in the scuffle when the murder occurred.’

  ‘You don’t know that for sure. You’re only guessing.’ Mrs Hargrove’s voice pitched. ‘Megan has been arrested. The trial will have to decide the rest. Why can’t you just leave it alone?’

  ‘Do you believe Megan killed Cobb?’ Jake asked. He spoke in a soft, calm tone, but his expression betrayed he would be insistent in his defence of the servant girl.

  Mrs Hargrove fidgeted with her hands. ‘It’s possible. Cobb did pursue her. She didn’t like him. She might have struck out at him, not intending to kill him.’