Don't Look Back (29 page)

"I see." Lavinia closed her eyes. "In other words, we may learn nothing useful from him when we do manage to interview him."

"We can only hope that he will at least recall why he sent the message to you," Tobias said.

"Yes." She lifted her lashes very slowly. "Well, we must worry about that tomorrow. There is nothing more we can do tonight. I cannot thank you enough for rescuing me from that horrid chamber."

"Are you certain that you're all right, Lavinia?" he asked.

"Yes." She closed her eyes again and reclined weakly against the stack of pillows. "But I must admit I am more weary and shaken than I had first realized. Perhaps I shall ask Mrs. Chilton to prepare a vinaigrette."

"I shall call at breakfast to see how you are getting along," Tobias said.

She nodded without opening her eyes.

He hesitated a moment longer at the foot of the sofa. She sensed him looming there and knew that he was reluctant to take his leave.

"See to it that she gets a good night's sleep," he said to Emeline.

"I will," Emeline promised.

"Very well." He still lingered at the foot of the sofa. "I will bid you both good night."

"Good night, sir," Emeline said.

"Good night," Lavinia whispered, eyes still closed.

She heard him turn and walk away toward the parlor door. He stepped out into the hall and spoke to Mrs. Chilton in low, muffled tones. The front door opened and closed.

Lavinia breathed a sigh of relief. She snapped open her eyes, shoved aside the heavy blankets, sat up, and swung her feet to the floor.

"Really, I had begun to fear that he would never leave," she said. "Where's that sherry I was drinking before he arrived?"

"I've got it right here."

Emeline went to the mantel and raised the top of the decorative urn that stood on the far end. She reached inside and removed the glass of sherry Lavinia had ordered her to conceal moments ago when she had spotted Tobias coming up the steps.

"Thank you." Lavinia took the glass and swallowed a goodly portion of the contents. She waited for the warmth of the spirits to hit her and then she exhaled deeply. "I think I handled that rather well, don't you?"

"Your acting was nothing short of professional," Emeline said.

"Yes, I thought so. I must say, I am quite grateful to Mr. March. He is excellent in a crisis, and I was exceedingly happy to see him earlier when he opened the door of that dreadful little chamber."

Emeline shuddered. "I do not doubt that."

"Unfortunately he cannot resist the urge to deliver exceedingly tiresome lectures after the dramatic moment has passed." Lavinia made a face. "I knew when I saw him coming up the steps that he had come back to see if I was in any condition to listen to one."

"I suspect you are right. Luckily you managed to appear far too delicate to engage in one of your more spirited discussions with him."

"I wouldn't be the least surprised to discover that he has drawn up a new list of rules for me."

"How did you guess, madam?" Tobias asked from the parlor doorway.

"Tobias."
She started, very nearly spilling the remaining sherry, and turned quickly about on the sofa.

He lounged in the opening, arms crossed, shoulder propped against the wooden jamb, and regarded her with cool consideration.

"As it happens, I have taken the trouble to make up just such a list," he said. "I think you will find it very handy. I am delighted to see that you have made such a swift recovery. No need to wait until morning after all. We can go over the new rules this very evening."

"Bloody hell." She consoled herself with the last of the sherry.

Emeline went briskly toward the door. "If you will both excuse me, I believe I shall retire for the evening. I find I am really quite exhausted from all the excitement."

"I understand," Tobias said. "Delicate sensibilities do appear to run in your family." He straightened, moved aside, and inclined his head gracefully as she swept past him into the hall. "Good night again, Miss Emeline."

"Good night, Mr. March."

Lavinia watched warily as Tobias closed the door very deliberately behind Emeline.

"What made you come back?" she asked.

"I believe it was the line about asking Mrs. Chilton to prepare a vinaigrette."

"I thought it was a nice touch."

"On the contrary," he said. "It was a bit much."

He was still simmering the next morning when he and Lavinia walked into Edmund Tredlow's tiny upstairs parlor. But he was so relieved to see that his partner appeared none the worse for her ordeal that he decided to forgo further lectures.

He consoled himself with the thought that he'd succeeded in extracting the one vital concession he wanted most from her last night: She had reluctantly promised to keep her household informed of her whereabouts when she went out. That would do for now, he thought. With Lavinia, one had to be content with small victories.

Whitby looked up from the pot of porridge he was preparing. Even garbed in an apron with a dish towel draped over one shoulder, he somehow managed to look quite dapper, Tobias thought with just a touch of envy.

Whitby gave Lavinia a bow that would have made any dandy proud.

"Good morning, madam." He straightened and nodded at Tobias. "Sir."

"Whitby," Tobias said. "How is your patient today?"

"I think you will find him well on the road to recovery, although he will no doubt suffer the headache for a while." Whitby set aside the pot, wiped his hands on a drying cloth, and led the way toward the bedchamber. "But I warn you, he cannot recall much of what occurred. I fear that is only to be expected after such a blow to the head."

They followed him into the invalid's room and found Tredlow, dressed in an aging, badly yellowed nightshirt, propped up in bed. A large white bandage covered a good portion of his head. He put down the cup of chocolate he had been drinking and peered at Lavinia through his spectacles.

"I say, Mrs. Lake, are you all right? Whitby told me about your nasty experience at the hands of the intruder."

"You suffered far worse than I did." She went to the side of the bed. "How is your head?"

"Sore, but I am assured I shall recover." Tredlow looked at Tobias. "Very kind of you to lend me your man, Whitby, for the night, sir."

"You're welcome," Tobias said from the doorway. "He tells me that you cannot remember much about what happened, however. I suppose that means you cannot provide a description of the intruder?"

"I don't believe I ever even saw him," Tredlow said. "I do recall that after sending word to Mrs. Lake, I closed my shop and went out to get a bite to eat. I expected to return before she arrived, you see. I may have left the door unlocked."

"The intruder must have thought you had left for the evening," Tobias said. "He entered the shop while you were gone and was still there when you returned a short time later."

"I think I heard some noise in the back room," Tredlow said. "I must have gone to investigate. The next thing I knew, I was waking up here in my bed with you and Whitby standing over me."

Lavinia's mouth tightened. "Just as well you were unconscious while you were in that sarcophagus. I cannot imagine anything worse than waking up inside a coffin."

"Not a pleasant notion," Tredlow agreed somberly.

"Do you remember why you sent me a message saying that you wished to speak with me?" Lavinia asked.

Tredlow grimaced. "I intended to inform you that I had heard that two of my competitors had their shops broken into during the past two days. Rumor has it that someone is searching for the Blue Medusa."

Lavinia exchanged a look with Tobias and then turned back to Tredlow. "Had anyone seen or heard anything that might help us identify the intruder?"

"Not that I've heard," Tredlow said.

The mesmerist opened the door himself. He did not look pleased to see Tobias on the step.

"March. This is a surprise. What are you doing here?" Hudson searched his face warily. "Have you some news about the killer?"

"I want to talk to you." Tobias moved forward, giving Hudson no choice but to fall back into the hall. "Do you mind if I come in?"

Hudson scowled. "You're already inside, are you not? Come with me."

He closed the door and turned to lead the way down a short corridor.

Tobias followed him toward a room at the end of the hall. He surveyed the interior of the house as he moved through it. The door of the parlor stood open. He noticed that it was dark inside. All of the drapes were pulled closed. There appeared to be very little furniture. He glimpsed only a chair and a single table. The Hudsons had not bothered to completely furnish their rented house. Either Celeste had been killed before she could choose fabrics and purchase furnishings or else the Hudsons had never intended to stay here for long.

Hudson ushered Tobias into a spare study. "Sit, if it pleases you. I'd offer you tea, but my housekeeper has left for the day."

Tobias ignored the invitation. He went to stand at the window instead, his back to the cloudy skies. He did a quick inventory of the room. There were only a handful of books on the shelves, one of which appeared to be very old. The leather binding was cracked and worn. No pictures or drawings adorned the walls. There were no personal effects on the desk.

"Can I assume that you planned a rather short stay in Town?" he asked.

If Hudson was startled by the question, he gave no indication. He went to stand behind his desk. By chance or by choice, he had chosen the one place in the room that the light from the window did not reach. He looked at Tobias from a pool of shadows, eyes deep wells of night.

"You refer to the lack of furniture in the house." With a casual movement of his hand he removed his watch from his pocket. The gold fobs danced lightly. "The house is rented. Celeste and I never got a chance to unpack properly, let alone select sofas and tables and fabrics. And then she was murdered and naturally I lost all interest in such things."

"Naturally."

"May I ask what this is about, March?" Hudson's voice took on a rich, sonorous quality. The gold watch seals swayed gently. "Surely you have not come here to discuss interior decoration."

"You are quite correct. I came here to talk about Gunning and Northampton."

The fobs jangled a little, but Hudson's shadowed features gave no hint of any reaction other than polite confusion. His eyes never wavered.

"What about them?" he asked.

The watch fobs went back to their steady, rhythmic arcs.

"They were clients of yours in Bath, I believe."

"Yes. Gunning visited me for a time because he experienced difficulty sleeping. Northampton's problem centered on his inability to sustain an erection." Howard's voice grew more resonant. The watch fobs continued to swing. "Both are common complaints among men of their years. I fail to see how either of those two cases affects this situation."

The motion of the watch fobs was becoming annoying, Tobias thought.

"Both men were victims of a jewel thief sometime after they came to you for treatments," he said.

"I don't understand. Surely you are not implying that my Celeste had anything to do with their losses? How dare you, sir?" Howard's voice did not tighten with outrage as he came to the defense of his wife's reputation. If anything, it only reverberated more strongly and deeply. "I told you, she was a beautiful, impulsive woman, but she was no thief, sir."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"A beautiful, impulsive woman," Howard repeated gently. The gleaming fobs swung like pendulums. "Not a thief. Eyes as bright as gold. As golden in the light as these little balls dangling from my watch. Look at the balls, March. Golden and bright and lovely in the light. It is very easy to look at them. Very hard to look away."

"Save your energy, Hudson." He smiled thinly. "I am in no mood to be put into a trance."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Celeste's criminal talents do not interest me. What does interest me, Hudson, is the fact that it is quite probable that you are also a thief."

"Me."
Howard's voice abruptly hardened. The watch fobs ceased swinging. "How dare you accuse me of having committed theft?"

"I cannot prove it, of course."

"You certainly cannot."

"But here is what I think happened." Tobias clasped his hands behind his back and started to prowl the room. "You worked alone for years. However, I suspect you had one or two close brushes with the law at some point and decided it might be wise to disappear for a while. So you sailed to America. You did rather well for yourself there and remained for some time. But eventually you chose to come back to England. You returned and settled in Bath."

"This is utter conjecture on your part."

"Indeed. Utter conjecture is something that I do very well. As I was saying, you set up in business in Bath. And there you met Celeste, a lady whose principles mirrored your own."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Merely that neither of you had any difficulty with the notion of pursuing a life of crime."

"I could call you out for that, sir."

"You could, but you won't," Tobias said. He halted at the far end of the room and looked at Howard. "You know very well that I am likely the better shot, and in any event, the gossip would be bad for your business."

"How dare you."

"As I was saying, you and Celeste formed a team. You selected the victims, no doubt favoring wealthy, aging gentlemen well into their dotage, who would be especially vulnerable to Celeste's charms. She used her wiles to convince them to consult you for therapy. Once you had them in your treatment room, you employed your mesmeric skills to manipulate them into giving you some valuable from their personal collections. Afterward they remembered nothing of the experience, of course, thanks to the instructions you gave them while they were entranced."

Howard composed himself. He stood, unmoving, behind his desk and watched Tobias with a stare that would have done credit to Medusa.