Butterfly Palace (38 page)

Drew’s gut told him Lily was in grave danger and there was no time to spare. He went to the kitchen and ran his hands over the wall where he’d seen the panel door in the pantry. It was dark in the space, so he felt around until he found the lever. When he pulled it, the panel groaned and opened much too slowly for the urgency he felt.

He grabbed the lantern on the kitchen table and stepped into the blackness. The closed air tasted stale and flat. The ceiling was relatively clean from the last time he and Lily had come through. Where would Lambreth have taken her? Instinct turned him right, toward the tunnel through the backyard. The path ran downward,
and the chill in the air became more pronounced as he walked underground.

There was a T in the labyrinth. To the right would take him to the old shack where Jane had died, but something made him turn to the left. It was the only unexplored part of the tunnels. With the lantern held high, he hurried along. There were no cobwebs, so someone had been in the tunnel recently. It narrowed until his shoulders brushed both sides and he had to bend over.

As the tunnel narrowed even more, he decided to turn back. This wasn’t getting him any closer to Lily. Then he heard a scream up ahead. He jerked and thumped his head against the ceiling. Gritting his teeth to keep from calling out her name, he pushed through the narrow space. Four feet later the walls were wider and the ceiling higher. A wash of air cooled his face.

He saw a pinpoint of light ahead and quickly extinguished his lantern before he could be seen. With his gun in his hand, he crept forward. Dancing shadows turned into two figures struggling in the light of a lamp sitting on a table. Christopher had his arm around Lily’s neck in a choke hold from behind. She thrashed and tore at the forearm cutting off her air.

They were too close for Drew to be able to fire off a shot without the risk of hitting Lily. And he had no other weapon other than the lantern. It would have to do. Christopher’s back was to him, and Drew rushed toward the struggling couple. Christopher must have sensed they weren’t alone because he let go of Lily and turned. Lily fell to the ground.

It was too late to stop Drew’s onward momentum. With the lantern high overhead, he brought it down on Christopher’s head. The glass shattered, and the acrid odor of kerosene filled the enclosed space.

The blow only knocked Christopher backward. He growled
and leaped at Drew with bared teeth. The scent of mint washed over Drew, and he grabbed Christopher by the neck. The two toppled to the floor with Drew atop Christopher.

A red mist came down over Drew’s vision. All he wanted was to choke the life out of the monster. Christopher bucked under him, then he got his knee up and shoved Drew off. In an instant he had his hands wrapped around Drew’s neck. The man’s strength was almost demonic, and he wore an expression of intense glee.

The insane light in Christopher’s eyes faded, and he slumped off Drew. Drew looked up into Lily’s face. Her eyes wide, she stared at the blood on her hands. He glanced over at Christopher and saw one of Ballard’s fancy knives protruding from his back.

When Drew got to his feet, Lily rushed into his arms. He held her trembling body close. “It’s okay. He can’t hurt you any longer.”

She shuddered and burrowed closer. “He killed Jane. And the other women.”

“I know. He was a monster. I want to find out what Ballard knows about him. That’s one of Ballard’s special knives. He only made them for friends.”

THIRTY-NINE

T
he party was deadly dull now that the best people had left. Belle’s face hurt from smiling and accepting congratulations on her uncle’s election. Mr. Hawkes’s worry about Lily had transferred to her, and she watched the clock. By eleven the party began to wind down, and she was eager to get home and see what had happened to her maid.

Only a handful of people were left as the clock neared eleven thirty. Belle walked over to the food table. She was parched, and some punch would be most welcome. The servants had begun to extinguish the gaslights, and the table was shrouded in darkness since most of the food was gone. No punch remained. She turned to survey the hall and see who was still left.

An older gentleman had hovered near her uncle’s shoulder all evening, and Belle suspected he worked with Mr. Hawkes to protect her uncle. Vesters hadn’t wandered far from her uncle’s side, but Belle was sure he would not be courageous enough to try to kill her uncle himself. So who was left in the hall that might be dangerous?

Her gaze traveled around the room and discounted the elderly couple she’d known all her life who hovered near the door. Her aunt’s best friend and her husband were no threat. She walked
toward the red velvet curtains that dressed up the hall. The servants did their work behind the scenes here, and it was possible a sniper lurked there. And she might be able to get a glass of punch. There were no servants behind the curtain, only her aunt.

Aunt Camille’s back was to Belle, but she was turned enough to the side for Belle to see her pouring a white powder into a drink. Frowning, Belle nearly said something, but following some inner compulsion she couldn’t name, she melted into the shadows.

Her aunt swirled the powder with a spoon, then threw the spoon into the trash. Odd since it was a silver spoon. The hair on the back of Belle’s neck prickled when her aunt pushed through the curtains and called her uncle’s name. Belle followed, still keeping to the shadows.

Aunt Camille approached Uncle Everett with a smile and held out the cup. “Here’s some punch, Everett. You look parched.”

He took it. “I am, Camille. Thanks for thinking of it. We’ll be able to go home soon, but I need to be the last one to leave.”

In slow motion, Belle watched him lift the glass toward his lips. Her love for her aunt warred with her sense of danger. What could she possibly say to interrupt him? He wouldn’t believe his own wife would try to harm him, and Belle wasn’t sure of it herself. What if Aunt Camille had mixed in some medicine he took all the time? But wouldn’t she have told him it contained his medicine? Instead, she’d merely offered him refreshment.

Something was very wrong, and Belle couldn’t let him drink that. She stepped from the shadows when the cup was only an inch from his lips. “Stop!”

Her uncle paused and lowered the drink. “Whatever is the matter, Belle?”

She rushed to his side, then turned to stare at her aunt. “Aunt Camille, what did you put in the drink?”

Her aunt blinked. “Whatever do you mean? It’s merely a glass of punch.” Her voice quavered a little.

“I saw you, Aunt Camille. You put a powder in the drink.” Belle pointed. “Back behind the curtain.”

“Are you feeling quite well, darling?” Aunt Camille started to put her hand to Belle’s forehead.

Belle flinched away. Her aunt was acting very strange. “I
saw
you. With my own eyes. The powder was white. You stirred it with a spoon, then threw the spoon away. Go look, Uncle Everett. She threw away a
silver
spoon. Don’t you find that odd?”

Her uncle stared at his wife. “Camille?”

His wife’s face remained impassive, but a bead of perspiration popped above her upper lip, and her gaze darted away. “You would believe a lie like that of me, Everett?”

He stared from her face to Belle’s, then glanced toward the curtained-off area. “Let’s see, shall we? It’s easy enough to get to the bottom of this misunderstanding.”

When he started for the curtain, his wife whirled and ran for the door. Belle stared after her. It wasn’t her place to stop her. Her aunt vanished through the front door of the hall. “I think you’d better keep that punch and have it tested, Uncle Everett.”

His expression was troubled, and he strode to the curtained area. Belle went with him and showed him the trash. “There’s the spoon. I stood in the shadows and watched her empty the powder into your drink.”

“Why were you watching her?”

“I don’t know. I was looking to see if there could be anyone left who meant you harm, and I checked behind this curtain. When I stepped back here, I saw her stirring in that powder. Though I didn’t know what it was all about, I said nothing and waited to see what she intended to do with the drink. When
she denied putting anything in your drink, I knew something was wrong.”

His eyes showed his hurt. “I can’t imagine why she would want to harm me. I give her everything she wants.”

“You’re very wealthy, Uncle Everett. Her last husband died under mysterious circumstances, didn’t he?”

“He had a strange wasting ailment and died in Germany. It was assumed he contracted a disease there.”

“What if she poisoned him? And what if she’s part of the plot to kill you? She would gain your fortune, and someone else would be implicated for political reasons.”

“I don’t want to believe Camille would do something like this, but the evidence is irrefutable.” He put his hand on Belle’s shoulder. “I think you just saved my life again, niece. Thank you.”

Drew emerged from Christopher’s lair with Lily on his arm. His chest still heaved with the emotion of the rescue. The last door was in the carriage house, and when they stepped outside, he saw Mrs. Marshall dragging a suitcase out the back door.

She stopped and called out, “James, are you here?”

Drew stopped Lily from moving forward. “Wait,” he whispered.

Ballard stepped from the shadows and hurried to take her suitcase. “What’s happened? I came as soon as you called.”

“Your henchman called off the shooting, so I decided to dispose of Everett myself. Belle saw me put the poison in his drink and intervened. I couldn’t believe it when Everett believed her. We have to get out of here. The police will be after me any minute.”

Ballard set down the case. “Do they know I’m involved?”

“Of course not. We can go to my estate in Spain.”

“What about my mother? I don’t want to leave her behind. And Christopher. Vesters will tell them he’s his partner and complicit in this. My involvement will come out.” He rubbed his head. “There are so many threads to this, Camille. I don’t like surprises. We have to think this through so we’re not suspects.”

Mrs. Marshall stamped her foot. “There’s no time! Christopher will land on his feet. We’ll leave money for your mother.”

“You’re not much of a mother, Camille.”

A siren wailed in the distance, and she grabbed his arm. “We have to go, James! They’re coming.”

Ballard stared down at her, then his hand went to his pocket. The moonlight gleamed on the gun he pulled out. “I haven’t clawed my way up to be taken down with you, my dear.”

Her mouth gaped and she took a step back. “No, James!”

The gun barked in the night, and Mrs. Marshall slumped to the ground. Ballard put the gun back in his pocket, then turned to go.

Lily put her hand over her mouth. Drew pulled his gun from his pocket and charged forward. “Stop right there, Ballard.”

Ballard made a slow turn to face him. “I should have known it was you.”

Drew stared at the man he’d tracked for so long. “You killed her.”

He shrugged and looked down at the dead woman. “She was just a tool.”

Drew’s finger twitched against the trigger. “Does Ian know?”

Ballard shook his head. “I think he was beginning to suspect I’d turned, but we’ve been friends a long time. He wouldn’t believe ill of me too quickly.”

“And Vesters? The assassination plot? That was you too?”

“It was a rather brilliant idea of Camille’s. Get Marshall out of the way. I marry Camille. Belle is married off to Vesters with
no right to Marshall’s money and no longer our responsibility. Vesters gets what he wants and I get what I want. I had all the right associations to get the job done.” He glanced around. “You realize Christopher is likely watching right now with a gun on your back. He’s not a man to be trifled with.”

“He’s dead.” Drew took great pleasure in the way Ballard’s eyes widened. “You deliberately worked with a man butchering women. You provided him with the knives.”

Ballard took a step back. “I had nothing to do with his little hobby. I didn’t even know he was the killer until Camille told me a couple of weeks ago. She has gotten him out of more scrapes than this one. He first started his killing sprees back in eighty-four, but she got him out of the city. When I realized how evil he was, I began to have doubts about this little venture.”

Drew grimaced. “Camille covered for him nearly twenty years?”

“He was her son. She loved him. Well, as much as she could love anyone. They had a most peculiar relationship. One minute she would strike out and hit him with anything nearby, and in the next moment she would fawn over him. It wasn’t healthy.” He heaved a sigh. “Now what? You should let me go, you know. My arrest will bring disgrace to the Secret Service. I think Ian would recommend you put your gun down and let me walk away.”

Ian stepped from the shadows by the side of the house. “I would not recommend such a travesty of judgment.” He motioned with the gun in his hand. “You’re under arrest, Ballard. I’ll take great pleasure in turning you in myself. We handle our own problems.” He glanced at Drew. “And I owe you an apology. I let my longtime friendship with Ballard blind me to his true character. Good work.”