Crystal Gardens (34 page)

Y
ou’re certain the chatelaine belonged to Irene Witton, the owner of the bookshop?” Lucas asked. His other senses were tingling and the hair on the back of his neck was stirring.

“I can’t be absolutely positive,” Evangeline said, “but I can tell you that Miss Witton seems to know a great deal about the local legends. She stocks a variety of treasure maps. What is more, her initials are IW, the letters on the back of the case. And, last but not least, I distinctly recall that when Clarissa admired Irene’s chatelaine, Irene mentioned that it was new and that it was a replacement for one she had lost. Under the circumstances, I cannot imagine that the case belongs to anyone else. Do you have a better idea?”

“No,” he said.

The high street was busy. The shops were full, street vendors hawked their souvenirs and the purveyors of antiquities, real and fraudulent, were doing a brisk business.

But Chadwick Books was closed. A small sign hung in the window. The shades were lowered.

A chill of knowing iced Lucas’s senses. “We are too late.”

Evangeline glared at the closed sign. “Irene Witton must have feared that we would become suspicious. She has packed up and left Little Dixby.”

“Perhaps,” Lucas said. “But it is also possible that she was not that fortunate.”

“What do you mean? Surely you don’t think—” Evangeline broke off because Lucas was already steering her down the street. “Wait. Where are you going?”

“To see if I can determine what happened to Irene Witton. I want to take a look around the inside of the bookshop.”

“You’re going to break into the shop, aren’t you?”

“Hush.” He angled his head to indicate the passersby on the street. “I’d just as soon not advertise my intentions. In some less enlightened quarters, breaking and entering is considered illegal. Although I have a feeling that no one will be complaining to the authorities on this occasion.”

“What if you are wrong? Witton lives in rooms above the shop.” Evangeline glanced upward at the shuttered windows. “She might be ill.”

“If that proves to be the case, we will apologize and explain that we feared for her health when we saw the sign in the window.”

Evangeline touched the small sack she carried. It contained the chatelaine. “That sounds like a reasonable answer. Always assuming that she is in a reasonable mood if she awakens to the noise of a burglar breaking into her shop.”

“I promise you, there will be very little noise.”

Lucas turned down a narrow lane that intersected the high street. Evangeline hastened to keep up with him. When they reached the
alley that ran behind the row of shops, they both looked back to make sure they were not being observed. Then they made their way to the rear door of Chadwick Books.

Lucas knocked a couple of times, but when there was no response he tried the doorknob. It turned easily.

“So much for the necessity of breaking into the place,” he said.

“If Miss Witton left in a hurry she might have neglected to lock the back door.”

“In my experience it is often killers fleeing the scene of the crime who fail to lock up behind themselves.”

“Of course, because they don’t have a key.”

“Sometimes that is the case.”

He did not add that there were murderers who did not lock the door at the scenes because they wanted their terrible crimes to be discovered, murderers who lusted to see their handiwork portrayed in the press. But this would not be that kind of murder, he thought. There was motive aplenty in this situation. There was no need to posit a deranged killer.

He opened the door and moved into the back room of the shop. He did not require the currents of dark energy swirling in the atmosphere to tell him that violence had been done and done recently. The woman’s body was sprawled facedown. Blood from the head wound soaked the wooden floorboards. The heavy iron bookend that had been used as a weapon was not far away. He could see bits of hair and flesh clinging to it.

Evangeline gave a soft gasp of dismay.

“You were right,” she said. “We are, indeed, too late. But this makes no sense. We assumed that if we found a body here, it would be that of Irene Witton. That is not Miss Witton.”

Lucas went down beside the dead woman and turned her just enough to allow them to see her face. Evangeline moved closer, careful
to keep the toes of her walking boots and the hem of her skirts out of the blood pool.

“I do not recognize her,” she said.

“I do.” Lucas got to his feet. “This is the missing housekeeper, Mrs. Buckley.”

“Good grief.” Evangeline looked around uneasily. “The blood appears to be quite fresh.”

“It is,” Lucas said. “She has not been dead very long. In fact, the killer is still here on the premises.”

There was a soft creak from the direction of the staircase that led to the rooms above the shop.

Evangeline stilled.

Lucas turned to face the narrow staircase. “You may as well come down, Miss Witton. We know what happened here. We are not armed.”

There was another protesting creak from the wooden boards. Irene Witton appeared at the top of the staircase, a pistol clutched in both hands.

“But I am armed,” she said.

I
t was not supposed to end like this,” Irene said.

Lucas watched her descend steadily down the stairs. “These things never seem to end the way they are supposed to end.”

The pistol in Irene’s hands did not waver. She kept the gun trained on Lucas. “Mrs. Buckley ruined everything. Now I have no choice but to leave on the morning train. I was packing my bags when I heard you break in a few minutes ago. I was so rattled after dealing with Buckley that I neglected to lock the door.”

“That would not have stopped us,” Lucas said. He did not look at the gun. He kept his attention on Irene’s eyes.

“No, I can see that,” Irene said.

Evangeline took a small step away from him. It was a subtle move. Lucas knew it was designed to put some distance between the two of them, thereby forcing Irene to shift her aim back and forth.

“Stop,” Irene ordered. Her voice was cold and controlled. “Don’t move, Miss Ames.”

Evangeline obediently halted. But she raised the sack in her hand. “We found your missing spectacles chatelaine. You left it in the Vision Pool chamber.”

“Impossible.” For the first time Irene appeared shaken. “It fell into the pool. No one could reach that far into those waters.”

“I did,” Evangeline said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Shall I prove it?”

“Yes,” Irene snapped. “Empty the sack.”

Evangeline slowly untied the cord that closed the small sack and turned the cloth bag upside down. The silver case fell into her hand.

Irene was stunned. “If you found the chatelaine, you must have seen the treasure.”

“We did,” Lucas said. “We left it in the pool for safekeeping.”

“I think I know what happened,” Evangeline said. “You came here to Little Dixby because you somehow learned about the treasure.”

“My father was an expert on antiquities. He possessed a psychical talent that allowed him to make several remarkable discoveries in Egypt and Italy. Perhaps you have heard of him, Dr. Howard Witton.”

“Witton is a legend in antiquities circles,” Lucas said. “You are his daughter?”

“Yes. I inherited his talent but because I was a woman, I was not allowed to follow in his footsteps. It became clear to me at an early age that I would never be able to explore and excavate the important ruin sites. My father’s colleagues refused to accept me as an equal. I was forced to content myself with being my father’s assistant.”

“As I recall, Witton died a few years ago,” Lucas said.

“I was his sole heir.” Irene smiled coldly. “His colleagues begged me
to give his papers and the items in his private collection to one of the museums. Several offered to buy them. They are worth a fortune. You may believe me when I tell you that it gave me great pleasure to refuse all of their entreaties and their offers. I did not need the money, you see.”

“I don’t blame you for taking satisfaction in that manner,” Evangeline said.

“It meant I could never marry, of course,” Irene said.

“No,” Evangeline said. “If you had wed, you would have very likely lost control of your inheritance. Most men would have been only too happy to sell off the most valuable antiquities.”

“I have not regretted my choice, not for a moment.” Irene’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “It is not as if I have been deprived of male company. You would be amazed at how many gentlemen are attracted to a woman who possesses both money and talent, even if she is well beyond eighteen years of age.”

“How did you learn of the Crystal Gardens treasure?” Lucas asked.

“Toward the end of his life my father grew too infirm to travel abroad,” Irene said. “During that time he came across some records of the treasure that was said to be buried on the grounds of the old abbey in Little Dixby. According to the story, the hoard was protected by magical forces.”

“Your father did not believe in magic,” Evangeline said. “But he recognized the possibility that paranormal forces might be at work on the grounds.”

“Yes, and he was intrigued,” Irene said. “He contacted Chester Sebastian and asked permission to search for the gold. But Chester refused.”

“All my uncle cared about were his botanical experiments,” Lucas said. “He despised treasure hunters.”

“After my father died, I became fascinated with the legend of the
Roman gold and the paranormal aspects of the story. But I knew that your uncle would never agree to allow me to search for it.”

“You saw your opportunity when the owner of this bookshop died,” Lucas said. “You purchased it from his widow and you set about seducing Chester with rare botanical prints and books.”

“And my talent,” Irene said. “I used it as deliberately as any courtesan employs her charms, dropping small hints about my abilities over a period of several months. Eventually Chester asked me to participate in some experiments. I let him see just enough of my psychical nature to make him want more. When he discovered that I could navigate the maze, he was enthralled. He soon realized that I was far more powerful than his housekeeper. She had been unable to gain access to the Vision Chamber.”

“But it occurred to him that you might be able to do so,” Lucas said.

“I refused at first. I was very coy about it. I told him that I doubted that I was capable of completing such a daunting task. But he insisted that I try. He even promised to give me the treasure if I could retrieve it. He didn’t care about the gold. By then he was obsessed with finding the source of the paranormal waters. He had convinced himself he would find it in the Vision Chamber.”

“When you proved you could access the chamber he must have been elated,” Lucas said.

“He was elated,” Irene said. “When I cleared the pool waters and we saw the gold, I thought he would faint from excitement. But all he could think about was finding a way to tap the energy of the pool for his damned botanical experiments. He was content to give me the entire hoard as thanks for my work.”

“That was when you discovered that clarifying the waters was only the beginning,” Evangeline said. “You soon realized that you could not submerge yourself in the pool.”

Rage flashed across Irene’s face. “I just needed time to learn how to
control the currents in those waters. I was certain I could do it, but that’s when
she
found us there in the chamber.”

Lucas glanced at the body. “Mrs. Buckley?”

“Yes. The silly woman thought I was having an affair with your uncle. I had the bodice of my gown off, you see, in an attempt to reach into the waters. Mrs. Buckley went mad with jealousy.”

“Not without reason,” Evangeline said. “Mrs. Buckley and Chester were lovers for years until you came along. You were able to give him what she could not—access to the chamber and the pool. On top of everything else, your state of undress that day made it appear that you were sleeping with him.”

“Buckley made a great scene. She flew at me, spitting and cursing. She grabbed my chatelaine and ripped it off my gown. It was all nonsense but the foolish creature was beyond reason. Chester tried to calm her down. He told me to leave so that he could deal with Mrs. Buckley.”