Fatal Masquerade Read online

Alkmene spoke even lower. ‘What if Felicia killed Cobb and Hargrove suspects it? He will care more for her than for some maidservant. She seems to bear a striking likeness to his deceased first wife. Not to mention the scandal that would arise if a family member had to go on trial for murder.’

  ‘There are a few problems with this theory.’ Jake held her gaze. ‘First of all, those letters weren’t merely anonymous accusations, but serious letters from her brother-in-law’s own solicitors. So, simply burning them in the fireplace wouldn’t solve the issue. The solicitor would write again, call, start a case about it.’

  Alkmene had to admit this was true.

  Jake continued, ‘Second, if Felicia killed Cobb to get this letter, why not take it along right away? You saw it at the scene after the murder.’

  ‘She panicked and ran. Then she considered and went back to take it and prevent a trail leading straight to her and her husband. Hargrove just told me she’s been inside the boathouse. He claims she never went near the table, but is he so sure?’

  Jake tilted his head. ‘I don’t think it’s a very strong theory.’

  ‘I want to talk to her.’ Alkmene straightened up. ‘I want to know how much she knew about it.’

  ‘As if she’s going to tell you,’ Jake scoffed. ‘She acted very skittish last night.’

  Alkmene sighed. ‘I know. But I owe it to Megan to dig into every possibility to shift the blame.’

  For a moment she thought about what Hargrove had told her, about Denise and her comte. A man with a shady past. A man susceptible to blackmail? What if Cobb had tried to squeeze money out of Denise somehow and she had struck out and killed him? What if digging deeper in this case would confront her with the impossible choice of either letting an innocent maidservant die for a crime she hadn’t committed or bringing her own best friend to justice for that same crime?

  How could she ever face Hargrove again if she brought his daughter to the gallows?

  Alkmene’s stomach shrank at the idea, and she wanted to run away from this task, just go back to London and pretend nothing had ever happened at the masked ball.

  But she couldn’t forget Megan’s face, her frantic eyes, as she cried out for help. The girl had first been hounded by that lecher Cobb, a despicable man who forced himself upon her, and then, when he was dead at last, and Megan free of his constant attentions, she was accused of his murder and at risk of dying because of him.

  It was so unfair…

  Chapter Nine

  Alkmene entered the room where Denise was pecking at some toast on her plate. Her hair was down, dark rims under her eyes. Her movements were languid, as if she was either tired or dejected.

  Alkmene seated herself on the other side of the table and reached for a pear from the enormous fruit bowl in the middle. She picked up the paring knife and began to peel. Her mouth was dry as she contemplated the connection between Denise and the Comte Margres. As described by Hargrove, the comte was a heartless man, out for gain on the backs of innocent women who adored him and didn’t see into his wicked heart. Could the comte’s presence at the ball be connected with the murder? Did Denise know anything about it?

  She cleared her throat to say good morning.

  Denise gave her a wan smile. ‘I got almost no sleep,’ she said in a petulant tone. ‘The police disturbed everything. I’m glad they are gone again.’

  ‘With Megan.’ Alkmene kept her eyes on Denise’s features to read her response to the arrest.

  Denise shrugged. ‘She was a bit of an odd girl, that one. Always quiet like a mouse, creeping about. Then suddenly she kills someone.’

  ‘Unlikely. I think a good lawyer will soon clear her.’

  Denise’s eyes flashed. ‘You’re getting her a lawyer? Would your father approve? I recall you telling me he doesn’t even let you have pineapple for dessert or a hat with ostrich feathers. I assume a lawyer costs much more. And all that for a maid you hardly know.’

  Alkmene put on an innocent expression. ‘Did I say so? I was merely observing an inevitable truth.’

  Denise scoffed. ‘You’re always looking to stir things up. The remarks you made last night at dinner about those Steeplechase girls...’

  She shivered. ‘As if you would like this Vera character to go free after having poisoned her own sister.’

  ‘All we know is that her sister died of poison, not whose hand administered it.’

  ‘You sound just like Keegan.’ Denise sat up. ‘I saw you two dancing last night. Do you find him attractive?’

  ‘I didn’t dance with Keegan,’ Alkmene protested.

  ‘Oh yes, you did. You mustn’t have recognized him because of the mask he wore. Papa told me you also found the dead body together.’ She held Alkmene’s gaze, jutting out her chin. ‘You must like him if you went into the gardens with him, to be together.’

  ‘I arrived at the boathouse alone,’ Alkmene said with emphasis. ‘Keegan appeared on the scene later.’

  Denise lifted a hand. ‘You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I can understand you want to have some fun away from London where there are too many prying eyes.’

  ‘Is that why you invited Beak-mask here?’

  ‘Who?’ Denise frowned, but the blood rising in her cheeks gave her away. She knew at once who Alkmene meant.

  ‘The man with the exaggerated mask you danced with all of the time. I haven’t been introduced to him.’

  Denise tried to laugh. ‘Isn’t the whole point of a masked ball that everybody is incognito?’

  ‘I don’t believe he didn’t know you or you him. He must be a fascinating character to have caught your fancy. You’re normally so down to earth when it comes to men.’

  Denise broke into genuine laughter. ‘I suppose you’re right. He is special.’ She toyed with a square of toasted bread on her plate.

  Alkmene surveyed her. ‘Special in what way?’

  ‘He’s different from other men I meet. Bold, adventurous. Doesn’t care for convention, or what other people think of him.’

  ‘Bit of a rogue,’ Alkmene concluded.

  Denise looked up. ‘He owns land and castles in France. Even an island off the coast. He is not a nobody like Dubois.’

  Alkmene bit her tongue to keep herself from defending Jake by telling Denise how Jake had exposed criminals and extortion schemes. If the comte was a criminal himself, it wouldn’t be wise to alert him, via Denise, to a dangerous opponent in his vicinity.

  ‘You two are quite close,’ Denise said like it was self-evident. ‘Papa might have introduced him as a friend of a friend, but he’s not fooling me. Dubois doesn’t belong here. I bet you talked Papa into inviting him because you wanted to spend time with him away from London.’

  ‘I can spend all the time I like with him in London,’ Alkmene said. ‘I need not come here for that.’

  Denise sighed. ‘I wish I had my own house in the city where I could do what I wanted. Do you think...’ She bit her lip a moment. ‘Do you think I could see Beak-mask, as you call him, at your home sometime? Can you go away to the theatre and let me see him there?’

  Having heard all about the comte’s disastrous reputation, Alkmene was appalled at the idea of Denise all alone with such a man, so she hurried to say, ‘The staff would report it to Father. They’re so loyal to him. He instructs them to be strict with me when he’s away. I can’t help you.’

  Denise leaned back in her chair. ‘I just wish we didn’t have to be so secretive. He says we can’t even meet at a gallery or tearoom because his face is well known and my reputation could be damaged. People are leaving us no choice but to elope.’

  ‘Elope?’ Alkmene echoed.

  Denise sat up straight. ‘Hush! Not so loud. I don’t want the whole household to hear. Yes, last night he asked me to become his wife and I said yes. He gave me this.’

  She reached into the neckline of her dressing gown and extracted something. She opened her hand and showed on her palm a small silvery thing with two stones in the centre
.

  As Alkmene peered more closely at it, she realized it was a wolf’s head staring right at the beholder, the stones being glittering red eyes. It wasn’t a sweet trinket suitable for a bride-to-be, but almost like a strange portent of death.

  ‘It’s the symbol of his ancestors from the north,’ Denise explained. ‘Way back in time, even before William the Conqueror came to England, the Vikings rowed down here from the north and conquered the land, taking livestock and burning down the villages of those who resisted. They came carrying the wolf’s head as their emblem. He says this wolf’s head now shows I am his.’

  ‘His loot?’ Alkmene hitched a brow. ‘I can’t find that very romantic.’

  ‘You don’t care for romanticism.’ Denise dropped the trinket back in place under her gown. ‘You care for adventure. So you should understand, better than anybody else, that when I go with Emile, I will always have adventure. From here he is going to Monte Carlo to boost his resources. He is so lucky at the card tables.’

  ‘Probably because he cheats.’ Alkmene was unconsciously cutting the pear up in impossibly small bits. ‘If he gets caught, he could end up in gaol and you’ll be completely unprotected.’

  ‘He won’t get caught. From Monte Carlo we’ll go to Lake Lugano. He owns a house there. He told me it’s painted soft pink and there are palm trees growing in the gardens. There is a secret cave, too, with a ceiling full of little shells forming flowers and birds.’

  Alkmene lifted a hand to stop the gushing. ‘How well do you know him? How often have you actually met?’

  Denise seemed to get more and more excited, eager to talk and share her hopes with somebody after having kept it all a secret for some time. ‘A few times, but that doesn’t matter. When you meet the one meant for you, you know it’s right. I’ve been in love with him since the first time I saw him at a recital. He’s just such a strong, determined man. He looked at me, and I knew he wanted me, too.’

  ‘Did he know you were an heiress at that time?’

  ‘It has nothing to do with money!’ Denise pushed her chair back so violently it toppled and crashed to the floor. ‘You’re all the same, only think of one thing. But I am more than just Hargrove’s daughter. Emile loves me for me!’

  And Denise ran from the room.

  Alkmene stared down at the pear mash left on her plate. How had this happened? She had been fairly close to Denise and couldn’t imagine her open, outgoing friend not telling her about having seen this interesting man and believing herself to be in love.

  In fact, this wasn’t the first time Denise had imagined herself to be infatuated with a handsome face, but it was different now because the man in question was dangerous. Whether Denise believed it or not, the comte had let his eye fall on her for a reason.

  Alkmene pushed her plate away and rose. She didn’t need breakfast, but she had to find Jake and ask if he could prove some points about the dear comte. Maybe hard evidence of his evil deeds would keep Denise from running headlong into trouble with him.

  Just as she was about to step out, she bumped into Felicia. The older woman surveyed her with interest. ‘Did you argue with Denise? She passed me on the stairs, almost in tears, it seemed.’

  ‘We’re all tense after the murder, I suppose.’ Alkmene held the other’s gaze. ‘Mr Zeilovsky will have a marvellous time studying us.’

  Felicia shivered. ‘I wish he would leave this instant. I find his presence rather oppressive.’ She waited a few moments before asking, ‘Do you think his opinion carries any weight?’

  ‘With whom?’ Alkmene asked, rather surprised.

  ‘Well, with fellow doctors or… lawyers, or in court.’

  Alkmene frowned. ‘You mean in the court case about the murder? He’s not an eyewitness to anything, so I don’t see...’

  ‘His theories, I mean,’ Felicia spat. ‘He pretends to see right inside our heads, read our thoughts out loud, understand our deepest desires.’

  She fell silent and bit her lip as if she had said too much. She clenched her hands so hard the knuckles went white.

  Alkmene studied her. She wasn’t quite sure if Felicia was merely worried her husband’s financial misdemeanours would come to light soon, or if she was hiding something regarding the murder. Had she stabbed Cobb? But if she had, why hadn’t she taken the incriminating letter with her?

  Felicia was still waiting for her answer.

  ‘I wonder if he’s really a doctor in anything,’ Alkmene said in a light tone. ‘I mean, if he has a degree. He could just be faking it all. He grew a beard and...’

  ‘You’re not taking this seriously.’ Felicia’s voice was brittle, like it could crack any moment. ‘But then you don’t have to. You have nothing to lose.’

  She turned and hurried away.

  Alkmene stared after her. Nothing to lose? Perhaps not personally, as she wasn’t involved in the murder. But if Denise was…

  She closed her eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths. She was taking all of this far too personally. Denise had just been a bit highly strung after last night’s tragedy, a murder so close to her family home. She had been overreacting when she said she was going to elope, not meaning what she said.

  Still, it was pertinent she found out all she could about the comte. Fast.

  Mrs Hargrove sailed down the stairs. ‘Alkmene. Have you seen Denise?’

  ‘No,’ Alkmene lied. She didn’t want to explain Denise had gone up to her room in a fury. Mrs Hargrove’s earlier fight with Denise, about an uninvited guest, proved she knew about the comte, but just how much she knew, Alkmene could only guess. Denise had never been close to her stepmother, so Mrs Hargrove’s opinion might only provoke her to do the exact opposite.

  She decided to try a shot in the dark. ‘Is Zeilovsky here to form an opinion on Denise?’

  Mrs Hargrove’s expression changed in an instant, from calm to slightly panicked. She managed to compose herself quickly enough, but Alkmene had caught the slip, like a mask of perfection had fallen away and the true woman underneath come to light. Vulnerable.

  Almost naked.

  ‘Is there something I should know?’ Alkmene asked, and realized her mistake at once. She was not one of the family, had no right to put this question.

  Mrs Hargrove gave her a blank look. ‘Know?’ she repeated. ‘How do you mean?’

  Alkmene hesitated a moment between a polite withdrawal to coffee-table talk and full-frontal attack.

  The latter had always been more her style.

  ‘You can’t fool me,’ she said. ‘Since my arrival I’ve sensed the tension. Between Denise and you, Denise and her father, and also between Felicia and her husband, Joseph. At dinner when Mr Zeilovsky started talking about the Steeplechase case. You ended our meal even before we had had dessert.’

  Mrs Hargrove grimaced. ‘Who likes to hear tales of murder over dinner? Poisoning no less. My appetite had completely vanished. I just wanted to distract the guests with Denise’s singing.’

  ‘Did you know the murdered servant, Cobb, was putting pressure on people about things he allegedly knew?’

  Mrs Hargrove grew pale. She tried to laugh, but it came out as a squeak. ‘Servants sometimes listen at doors and believe they’ve overheard a great deal. More often than not it’s a small matter that carries no weight with anyone.’

  She straightened up. ‘The police have arrested their suspect. Cobb had been troubling Megan. She couldn’t take it any more and stabbed him. I’m glad it didn’t happen in the house. All that blood. So terrible. We should speak no more of this unfortunate affair.’

  ‘Megan has been arrested for something she did not do.’ Alkmene spoke slowly and purposefully. ‘She is but a young girl. She came here confident she’d be treated well. If you knew about Cobb’s behaviour, you’ve let her down by not protecting her against the unwanted attentions of this man.’

  ‘Unwanted? She was encouraging him.’ Mrs Hargrove’s pale cheeks flushed with indignation. ‘Always smiling at hi
m, trying to get presents off him. Mrs Carruthers told me often enough. I thought it was quite harmless. Had I had any idea it would get to this...’ Mrs Hargrove’s voice trembled.

  Alkmene leaned over, speaking slowly. ‘You let Megan down, not protecting her, and now you’re letting her down again. You’re letting her sit in a damp prison cell when you know full well it wasn’t her who stabbed Cobb.’

  Mrs Hargrove blinked. There was a red rash in her face now. ‘What do you expect of me? That I let the police pry in my home, search rooms, harass my guests?’

  ‘Ruin your reputation as the perfect host?’ Alkmene added.

  Mrs Hargrove stared at her. ‘It is so unfair it had to happen on the grounds. Why could Cobb not have died somewhere else? Away from the estate.’ She pointed at the window with a dramatic gesture as if this might still transport the dead body across the estate’s border walls where it could do no harm.

  Alkmene said, ‘Cobb died in the boathouse. That cannot be turned back or denied. We need to find out who did it.’

  ‘We know who did it. Rather, the police do. They made an arrest. Let’s leave it at that.’ Mrs Hargrove retreated to the open door.

  Alkmene called out to her, ‘And let an innocent girl die?’

  ‘Rather her than...’ Mrs Hargrove bit her lip. She swung the door open and fled inside, slamming it shut behind her.

  Alkmene rubbed her forehead. Why was everybody acting so furtively, like the least sound startled them? Why were they all acting as if they suspected… each other? Was Mrs Hargrove not being callous in refusing to look beyond Megan’s assumed guilt, but afraid that, if the police dug deeper, they’d hit upon some secret that might expose her, her husband or her stepdaughter?

  Chapter Ten

  Thinking it better to avoid the touchy family members for the moment, Alkmene asked a man who was taking down the Chinese lanterns if he had seen Mr Dubois. ‘Yes, he asked for Cobb’s quarters. He had a room in the attic, so I pointed him that way.’

  Alkmene thanked him profusely and made her way up, keeping her fingers crossed nobody would notice her venturing into forbidden territory. She found a row of doors and listened at each of them. From behind the last she heard noises of items being shuffled around.