The Mystery Woman (17 page)

A
short time later they started down the ancient steps. Beatrice held the lantern. The light splashed on old stone as they made their way downward into the depths of the old house.

“I can see the killer’s footsteps in the dust,” Joshua said. “He entered the mansion using this passage and he left the same way.”

Beatrice heightened her talent and studied the hot prints. “Yes, it’s the same man who was waiting for me last night, the assassin who murdered Roland. I’m sure of it.”

“It’s an obvious enough conclusion.”

“It’s a good thing I have long been accustomed to having people question my abilities,” she said. “Otherwise I might take offense at your constant skepticism.”

“I do not mean to offend you.” There was genuine apology in his voice. “It is just that I think you have a rather vivid imagination.”

“Do you ever allow your imagination to get carried away by fanciful thoughts, Mr. Gage?”

“I do my best to guard against those sorts of distractions. They rarely yield any useful results.”

“But on occasion?” she prompted.

“I’m only human.”

“You say that as if it were a serious character flaw.”

They descended a few more steps and rounded a corner into another dank passageway. Beatrice’s heart sank. The corridor that stretched before them was narrow and filled with unrelenting darkness. She felt the old, familiar edginess spike higher. She held the lantern aloft, hoping to cast the light farther into the shadows.

“Last night,” Joshua said.

The words came out of nowhere. Beatrice wondered if, in her struggle to control her nerves, she had missed something in the conversation.

“Sorry,” she said. “What about last night?”

She forced herself to breathe slowly and evenly. She could do this. She had a lantern. Joshua was with her.

“Last night when we kissed in that alcove,” Joshua said. “That was the last time I got distracted by fanciful thoughts.”

“Oh, I see.” She was not sure what to say to that. She knew she was blushing again and for a few seconds she was grateful for the flood tide of darkness that surrounded her.

She was trying to come up with an appropriate response when Joshua stopped abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, shivering a little.

“The air has changed. You can smell the sea.”

She breathed in cautiously, paying close attention to the atmosphere. Then she caught it, the unmistakable whisper of salt-tinged air. There was a muffled roar in the distance. The pounding of waves on a rocky shore, she thought.

“This passage must lead to the sea.” She looked down at the traces of energy on the stone floor. “By the time he got this far he was calmer, more controlled. But he was still frustrated and angry. No, it’s more than just anger. It’s a kind of obsessive rage.”

“A logical assumption based on our knowledge of him,” Joshua said. “He is a professional in a bloody business. But like any professional, he prides himself on his expertise. Naturally he would have been in a fury because he was unsuccessful tonight.”

“You can’t bring yourself to admit that I might be able to see some traces of paranormal energy that he left behind, can you?”

“You arrived at your conclusion with logic and intuition, whether you know it or not.”

“Mrs. Flint and Mrs. Marsh were certainly right when they said that clients were always the most difficult part of the business.”

“Are you implying that I’m your client?” he asked.

“That is exactly what you are, sir. You are paying Flint and Marsh for my services. That makes you a client.”

“The hell it does. We will sort that out some other time.”

He went forward more quickly now, his stick creating a steady drumbeat on the stone. Beatrice picked up her skirts, relieved to be moving faster. Physical motion helped suppress the oppressive sensation that gnawed at her.

The sound of the crashing waves grew louder. So did the dampness around them. The stone walls of the tunnel ended suddenly, giving way to the interior of a large cave. Restless seawater filled the lower portion of the cavern, churning and sloshing around a small wooden dock that was designed to rise and fall with the tide. The outside entrance was not visible from where Beatrice stood but she could feel the currents of fresh air that flowed into the space.

“This is an old smuggler’s cave,” Joshua said. He took the lantern and held it aloft to examine the dock. “The bastard had a boat waiting here. The question is, did he come alone or did he bring someone else along to handle the oars? It is not impossible that a skilled assassin from London would also be a competent oarsman who happens to be familiar with this coastline, but it seems unlikely.”

“If we go down to the dock, I might be able to answer the question,” Beatrice said.

She felt a little steadier now that they were no longer within the close confines of the passage. The salt air and the movement of the water helped dispel some of the oppressive atmosphere.

Joshua looked at her with a considering expression. For a short time she thought he would refuse her offer. But after a second or two he simply nodded once and started down the short flight of steps to the dock.

When he reached the bottom he stopped, turned and held his hand out to assist her. “Careful,” he said. “The steps are wet and slippery.”

In spite of the situation the small act of gallantry charmed her. Their relationship thus far seemed to lurch back and forth from a state of prickly suspicion to a wary partnership. She knew that the heated kiss last night had been an aberration, a brief interlude that had surprised both of them. She wondered if Joshua would allow himself to be distracted by fanciful thoughts again.

For a second she hesitated to take his hand, afraid that if she slipped on the wet steps she might pull him down, too. He had, after all, only his cane to help him maintain his own balance. Then she remembered how he had come to her through the noxious incense last night and carried her to safety.

She gave him her hand. His fingers closed like a manacle around hers. She knew then that he had sensed her slight hesitation.

“I won’t let you fall,” he said grimly.

She stifled a sigh. They were back to the prickly phase of their association.

“I know,” she said.

At the bottom of the steps, she tugged her hand free and tried to affect a brisk, businesslike air. She heightened her senses and looked at the hot tendrils of energy that writhed in the prints. In addition to the killer’s footsteps she saw another set.

“Two people were here,” she said.

“Yes.”

Joshua’s swift agreement made her turn to look at him. He had walked partway out along the old dock and was leaning down to examine a small, narrow object.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A cigarette.” Joshua straightened. “The oarsman smoked while he waited for the assassin to return.”

“The oarsman must have been a local. No one else would be likely to know the location of this old smuggler’s lair.”

“It would not be difficult to hire an able-bodied man with knowledge of the shoreline,” Joshua said. “We are on the coast. I’m sure every man and boy in the area can handle a boat and knows the local terrain. The problem lies in ensuring that the oarsman keeps his mouth shut. News of the murder at Alverstoke Hall will be all over the village by now. Sooner or later it will come out that someone from the village was hired to row a stranger to the old smuggler’s cave near the hall on the night of the murder.”

She caught her breath. “We must find the oarsman.”

“I doubt that will be much of a problem,” Joshua said. “Dead bodies have a way of washing ashore.”

T
he old smuggler’s passage?” Lord Alverstoke’s bushy brows and sideburns twitched in a scowl. “I’d forgotten all about that tunnel to the cove. It was originally constructed as an escape route in the event of a siege. Later it was used for contraband. But that was years ago.”

“Who else knows about the tunnel besides yourself, sir?” Joshua asked.

He was having a hard time keeping his attention focused on Alverstoke. He kept glancing at the clock. Beatrice was upstairs with Hannah and the maid, finishing the preparations for the journey back to London. Logically he knew she was safe enough for the moment but he did not like letting her out of his sight.

“Well, as to who might know about the passage, that’s hard to say.” Alverstoke snorted. “Many of the servants have been with me for decades. I expect they are all aware of it. Not as if it’s a secret, you know. The house is riddled with passages and stairwells that are no longer used.”

“I understand. But can you think of anyone in particular—a visitor, perhaps—who took an interest in the tunnel and its history?”

Questioning Alverstoke was probably pointless, Joshua thought. It was clear the old man knew nothing about the murder. He did not even know how Hannah had gotten on his guest list for the house party.
Leave that sort of thing to
my secretary.

There was no time to talk to every member of the household staff, Joshua decided. Right now his first priority was to get Beatrice out of reach of the assassin. Nevertheless, it would be extremely helpful to discover how the killer had obtained such a thoroughgoing knowledge of the mansion and the secret entrance to the antiquities chamber.

“Afraid not,” Alverstoke said, very firm this time. “Can’t think of anyone who showed an interest in that old smuggler’s tunnel.”

“What about antiquities experts? Have you invited any colleagues or other collectors to visit for an extended period? Long enough to have discovered the tunnel by accident, perhaps?”

“I’ve certainly allowed other experts to examine my collection from time to time but they never stayed here for more than a day or two and I always accompanied them when they viewed the objects in the great hall.” Alverstoke pursed his lips. “Except for that lovely young lady who asked to study the artifacts so that she could write a paper for one of the journals. But that was over a year ago. I can’t see how her visit could be linked to the murder last night.”

A chill of knowing swept through Joshua. “You allowed a woman to study your antiquities?”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Alverstoke chuckled. “One doesn’t expect a female to possess a sound knowledge of antiquities. But this lady was the exception. She was astonishingly well informed. She had actually done some fieldwork in Egypt.”

“Sir, this is very important. How did this female antiquities expert contact you?”

“She wrote to me requesting permission to study the artifacts. Signed the letter as E. Baycliff. I assumed she was a man, of course. When she arrived on my doorstep I was shocked to see that she was a female.”

“But you invited her to stay?”

“I was going to send her away but she pleaded with me to show her some of the antiquities before she took the train back to London.” Alverstoke winked. “Very attractive young woman. So intelligent and quite charming. I saw no harm in taking her on a tour of the great hall. In the end I relented and agreed to let her study some of the artifacts.”

“How long did she remain here at Alverstoke Hall?”

“Not long. A few days. She was called back to London before she could finish her research. Something about a death in the family, I believe.”

“Did she ask to view your catalog?”

“Yes, of course,” Alverstoke said.

“Did she express any special interest in any items in particular in your collection?”

“As I recall, she was very keen to view two rather odd obsidian jewels. Not terribly important antiquities, really. We both agreed they had no doubt once been the eyes of a statue. Someone had removed them at some point, most likely to sell them.”

“She found the damned eyes,” Joshua said. But he was speaking to himself, mentally rearranging pieces on an invisible chessboard in his head. “That explains a great deal.”

Alverstoke scowled. “I say, what’s this about eyes?”

“I think I can save you some time with your inventory,” Joshua said. “Start with those two obsidian jewels. You will discover that they have gone missing. They disappeared a little over a year ago, in fact. About the time that the woman who called herself E. Baycliff got that telegram informing her of a death in the family.”

“You believe Miss Baycliff stole them? Nonsense. She was a lovely young woman, I tell you. Very charming.”

“Yes,” Joshua said, remembering. “Beautiful, charming and an expert in antiquities.”

“Even allowing for the outrageous possibility that she was a thief, why would she take such unimportant relics? Those stones are not particularly valuable.”

“If I’m right, those jewels were the Eyes of Anubis.”

“What of it? A large number of Anubis figures have been discovered. I’ve got several in my own collection. Why would Miss Baycliff want the eyes of a particular statue?”

“To raise the dead.”