Don't Look Back (24 page)

"Why?" Joan asked curiously.

Vale hesitated and then shrugged. "You will not credit this, but the old volume indicated that the master practiced an ancient form of mesmerism."

Lavinia stopped halfway to another display case and spun around. "Mesmerism? In ancient times? But it is a modern science."

Vale looked amused. "If animal magnetism is, indeed, a real force in the human body, why should it strike you as strange that techniques for controlling it might have been discovered and lost and rediscovered many times over the course of the centuries? Do you really believe that we who live in this enlightened era are the only ones who manage to stumble onto ancient truths? That we are any more intelligent, insightful, or intuitive than those who came before us?"

Lavinia winced. "I take your point, sir. But you must admit, it is odd to consider that some ancient pagan cult here in England may have practiced a science as advanced as mesmerism."

"Always assuming that it is a science," Tobias muttered.

Vale laughed softly and turned back to Lavinia. "Odd and deeply fascinating. And, in this case, more than a little disturbing."

"Why do you say that?" Joan asked sharply.

Vale resumed his stroll through the relics of the past. "According to the book, the master used his mesmeric powers, which were said to be drawn directly from the stone itself, in dark ways. From what I have been able to discern, the cult was founded on fear, secrecy, and great mystery."

"Medusa was an obvious choice as a symbol of such an unusual cult, in that case," Joan observed. "After all, in the legend, she could turn a man to stone with her gaze."

"More than a symbol." Vale paused meaningfully. "As I said, the cameo in the bracelet was considered the actual source of the priest's power. The members believed that the only person who could control it was the one who was imbued with a natural talent for drawing the energy from the stone."

A solemn silence fell on the gallery.

Tobias shattered the uneasy quiet with a humorless smile. "I trust that your interest in the Blue Medusa is purely scholarly in nature, Vale. I would not like to believe that a man of your education and experience of the world places any credence in the supposed mystical powers of an ancient cameo."

Lavinia saw Joan frown and glance quickly at their host.

But Vale looked amused. "I assure you, March, I have no use for metaphysics, especially those of a rather unpleasant, long-dead cult. But it never ceases to amaze me how often seemingly intelligent, educated people do fall under the spell of old legends and strange beliefs."

"And the Blue Medusa offers that enticement?" Tobias asked.

"To some, yes." Vale walked to a nearby cabinet and removed the iron ring on his left hand. He fitted the small key to the lock and opened the door. "Take this piece of ancient Roman glass, for instance. It is said that men have died because of it."

He reached inside and removed an intricately carved glass bowl. The object caught the light and glowed a dozen shades of fiery amber in his fingers. Lavinia was riveted. She moved closer to get a better look.

"It's incredible," she said. "Was it, too, found here in England?"

"No. I believe that it was brought here from Italy many years ago."

Joan came to stand beside Lavinia. "Beautiful."

Vale watched them both with an enigmatic smile.

Lavinia took a closer look at the large cup. Figures had been carved around the vessel in such a way that they stood out from the surface as though attempting to escape the bonds of the delicate net of glass that anchored them.

Lavinia recognized the scene that the artist had caught and frozen in the glass.

"Persephone fleeing Hades," she whispered. "The Lord of the Underworld pursues her."

The desperation on the face of the woman and the anguish and loss etched in the god's features sent a shiver through her.

"It is called the Hades Cup, and some say that it is a dangerous object to own." Vale smiled wryly. "Not that I believe in such nonsense. Nevertheless, I maintain that I do not actually own the thing. I am merely keeping it safe here in the club's museum."

He closed and locked the cabinet door with the tiny ring key.

"I think we have all taken your point," Tobias said. "Legends develop a strength of their own, and collectors are an odd lot."

"Indeed." Vale smiled. "They like nothing better than a good story attached to an antiquity. Some will kill to possess a rare object with a sufficiently compelling legend attached to it."

Lavinia threw up her hands. "Wonderful. Yet another motive for murder. At this rate, half of London will soon be on our suspect list."

Tobias sank into the chair across from Crackenburne and reached for the bottle of brandy that sat on the table between them.

"Leg bothering you again today?" Crackenburne asked without looking up from his newspaper.

"It's not the leg so much as the conversation I just had with a possible suspect." Tobias tipped the bottle and poured. The clink of glass against glass brought to mind a fleeting image of the Hades Cup. "What can you tell me about Vale?"

Crackenburne hesitated and then slowly lowered the paper far enough to peer at Tobias over the top. "Wealthy. Widowed. Secretive. He's the head of a very small, exclusive little club of collectors. Writes scholarly papers for the journals. Has a habit of disappearing for weeks at a time to dig up old Roman ruins in the country."

"I know that much. I also know that he was a close friend of Fielding Dove." Tobias took a swallow of the brandy and relaxed into the chair. "Which means that he probably was aware that Dove was the head of the Blue Chamber. Think Vale might have been involved in some of its activities?"

"Never heard anything to indicate that he was connected to that criminal organization." Crackenburne folded his paper and put it aside. "Which is not to say that he wasn't, of course. In his own way Vale is just as clever and possibly just as dangerous as Dove was in his time. But I think his interests lie elsewhere."

"Antiquities."

"Yes."

"Do you think he would commit murder to obtain a very special Roman artifact associated with an ancient cult here in England?"

Crackenburne grew thoughtful. "I cannot say for certain. I've heard he is somewhat obsessive on the subject of such British-Roman relics. But I will give you my opinion, for what it's worth."

"And that is?"

"If Vale did commit murder for it, I very much doubt that you'd ever be able to trace the deed to him. He's no fool. He would cover his tracks well."

Tobias turned the brandy glass between his palms. "The murderer we're after did leave something personal behind. His cravat."

Crackenburne snorted. "Can't see Vale being that careless."

"Unless, of course, he knew that the damned neckcloth would lead us to a dead end. After all, it told us nothing except that Celeste Hudson was probably murdered by a gentleman rather than a poorly dressed footpad."

Crackenburne shook his head with grave authority. "If Vale had taken pains to leave behind a false clue, you can be certain it would have led you to whoever he wished you to think was the killer. You just said the cravat led you to no one in particular."

"It led me nowhere and therefore we must assume that Vale is probably not the killer." Tobias smiled wryly. "The logic is somewhat convoluted, to say the least, but I am inclined to agree. In truth, I never placed too much hope in the possibility that his lordship was guilty. The entire affair is far too murky for such a convenient explanation."

"Not Vale's style at all." Crackenburne picked up the brandy bottle and poured himself a glass. "But there is another reason why I think you can exclude him."

"What is that?"

Crackenburne sipped brandy with a meditative air. "Can't see Vale murdering a woman in cold blood. The man's no saint, of course. I think it's safe to say that under certain conditions he could be quite dangerous. Not unlike you, to be blunt. But I do not believe that he would strangle a woman to death. Not for a bloody antiquity."

Tobias recalled the reverential way in which Vale had cradled the Hades Cup in his hands. "Not even if he placed a very high value on that particular antiquity?"

"He's a shrewd, clever player who generally gets what he wants in the end. But in this sort of situation, I'm quite certain that he would have found other means to his ends." Crackenburne smiled slightly before taking another swallow of brandy. "Just as you would have done under similar circumstances."

Tobias watched the flames on the hearth for a time, contemplating what Crackenburne had said.

"Any other news for me?" he asked after a while.

"I did come up with a couple of interesting rumors concerning Gunning and Northampton."

Tobias cocked a brow. "Yes?"

Crackenburne paused for effect, clearly relishing his moment. "Word has it that the households of both gentlemen may have been burglarized at some point in the past several months."

Tobias put down his glass with such force that it sounded as if it had cracked on the tabletop.
"'May
have been burglarized?"

"There was no evidence of a housebreaker. No smashed windows or broken locks. Nor is there any way to know precisely when the objects disappeared. Some feel the owners, who are both in their dotage, may simply have misplaced the items in question."

"What sort of items are we talking about?"

"In the case of Lord Gunning, a pair of diamond earrings that belonged to his late wife. Northampton's household is missing a very fine pearl-and-emerald necklace that was supposed to have gone to his daughter."

"Bloody hell. The lady was, indeed, a jewel thief. And I'll wager her recently widowed husband is in the same line."

"Howard, do come in and sit down." Lavinia put down the pen she had been using to make notes in the journal and motioned her visitor to a chair. "I believe there is some tea left in the pot. Allow me to pour you a cup."

"Thank you, my dear." Howard closed the study door behind him, but he did not sit down. Instead, he came to a halt in front of her desk and stood looking at her. "I was feeling quite restless this afternoon so I decided to take a walk." He spread his hands. "The next thing I knew, I was standing at your front door."

"I understand," she said gently. "I expect you are anxious to know if Mr. March and I have made any progress in our inquiries."

"I must admit the subject is foremost in my mind these days." He removed his watch from his pocket and began to toy with it in an absent fashion. The gold fobs dangled and danced. "Tell me the truth, Lavinia. Do you really think you can find the bastard who murdered my Celeste?"

Tobias had told her that it was important to reassure the client as often as necessary, she reminded herself.

"We are making progress," she said firmly. "Mr. March and I feel certain that we shall find her killer."

"My dear Lavinia." The watch fobs swayed in a steady rhythm. "What would I do without you?" Howard's voice deepened and grew heavy. "My dear, dear friend. You and I have so much in common. So much to talk about. So much that we can explore together, my dear friend."

The intent quality of his gaze and the gold fobs disturbed her. Surely he was not attempting to put her into a mesmeric trance in such a sly fashion. This was her dear friend Howard, after all. He would not seek to take advantage of her with his skills. The steady, relentless movement of the fobs was simply happenstance, not deliberate. This was her dear old family friend.

"Such a dear friend..."

Quite suddenly she knew that she needed to look away. The urge was strong, but when she tried to avert her eyes from the gold watch fobs, it proved surprisingly difficult. She raised her fingers to touch the silver pendant that she wore at her throat, and the unpleasant sensation eased.

Relieved, she studied the page of the journal that was open in front of her. "As it happens, I am glad you came by this afternoon, Howard. I have been going over some notes and I find I have a few more questions."

"I will tell you anything I can, of course, my dear, dear friend." His voice was as resonant as a large bell. "What is it you wish to know?"

"Forgive me for such a personal inquiry, but I must ask how you came to be aware that Celeste was having an affair."

"How does a man know such a thing? I suppose it was a matter of small clues, most of which I chose to ignore at first. She began to go shopping more frequently and returned late, sometimes without any purchases to show for her efforts. There were days when she seemed too cheerful or excited or impatient for no apparent cause. What can I say? She acted the way a young woman in love acts."

Lavinia looked up at that and found herself staring at the dangling watch fobs again. The effort required to look away this time left her feeling rather breathless.

"Does that answer your question, my dear, dear friend?"

She was imagining this, she thought. Howard was not trying to induce a trance. Perhaps she was becoming a victim of bad nerves.

Returning her attention to her notes, she pressed on determinedly. There was another question she wanted to ask. She had to work hard to remember it.

"The antiquity Celeste stole belonged to Lord Banks," she said. "Have you ever met him?"

"No, my dear friend."

The gold seals bobbed gently.

"Do you think that Celeste may have somehow contrived to meet him?"

"I don't see how that would have been possible." Howard frowned. "Unless she was acquainted with him before I met her."

"I had not thought of that possibility." She tapped the quill on the edge of the ink bottle a few times. "I wonder if that is how she came to know about the bracelet."

Tap.
..
tap... tap...

"I cannot answer that, my dear, dear friend___"

She suddenly realized that the tip of the quill was striking the bottle in a pattern that matched the swaying movements of the dangling watch fobs. She stopped and hastily put down the pen.