Part 24 (1/2)

”Why would she do that?” Underly demanded.

”Because some of us were in all those places where the women were murdered, and at just the right times.”

”You really had us going.” Toddy slapped the table with glee. ”Why, I even started to wonder if your fall on the train might have been some nefarious attempt to bury you permanently in that s...o...b..nk.” Still chucking, he had to use his napkin to wipe the tears from his eyes.

”If that's the case, then the culprit must be Mrs. Wainflete.” Billy Sims chortled in delight at the idea. ”An obvious suspect now that I think about it.”

Diana blinked, darting a quick look at Ben. All their guests now seemed to think the entire story nothing but an elaborate April Fool's Day hoax.

Worse, no one looked the least bit guilty.

Following the meal, the men adjourned to the library for cigars and brandy. Ben considered the company, careful to keep his face expressionless. Either these people were more accomplished actors than he thought, or he and Diana were wrong. Could it be that the killer was not a member of Todd's Touring Thespians?

No one seemed to be other than he was. It was hard to conceive that any of them, even while talking of the last stand, the current one, and the journey ahead, might be plotting to silence Diana before she revealed his ident.i.ty.

Underly was sour by nature but no more irritable than usual.

Todd was jovial and entertaining.

Sims was making serious inroads into Ben's brandy.

The others were of no importance. According to what Jerusha had told Diana, none of them had been in Philadelphia when the first victim died.

”Shall we return to the ladies?” Todd made the suggestion at the earliest possible moment. ”I'd like to continue my discussion with Mrs. Northcote. I've great plans for making plays out of her stories.”

Ben didn't care to know the details. After all, he'd seen this company perform.

The usual entertainments filled out the rest of the evening. Billy Sims played the piano and sang a few songs, apparently oblivious to the fact that the instrument was out of tune. He had a good voice, making Ben wonder if he might do better as a singer than an actor. Lavinia rendered a tune, as well, with considerably less talent.

By the time she sat down at the keyboard, it was well past midnight. The moment she paused for breath after the first song, Todd decreed that they must be on their way back to the hotel. ”Even actors need a bit of sleep,” he said with a genial laugh.

Ben waved goodbye with Diana standing on one side of him and his mother on the other, to all appearances a normal family who'd just entertained a few friends.

The image gave him pause.

”A triumph,” his mother declared, as Ernest closed the door and went behind the departing guests to lock the gate. ”And that young woman may do quite well in the roles of Hannah Sussep and the Blood Countess. At least in some scenes. I talked to her a bit earlier. She has an instinctive understanding of the cla.s.sic principles of revenge tragedy.”

Ben thought Lavinia Ross would be a disaster in either role but he did not say so. Let Mother keep her illusions, at least until she'd seen the actress on stage. ”So, you deem the evening a success?”

”A social triumph.” She stopped at the foot of the stairs and ran one hand over the griffin on the newel post, a pleased smile on her face. ”What other Bangor hostess can boast of having had the entire cast of a play to sup? But even more glorious are the ideas I've gotten for new characters after listening to that lot.” Chuckling to herself, she toddled off to bed.

Ben and Diana retired to the parlor, where he poured them each a brandy.

”Could it be that my conclusions were all wrong?” Diana asked. ”There are still three dead women in cities the members of Todd's Touring Thespians visited.”

Taking back the gla.s.ses, Ben set them on a table and gathered Diana into his arms. ”There's nothing we can do about them tonight.”

”No.”

”Have you been sleeping as badly as I have?”

”Worse.”

Ben's lips had barely touched Diana's when the shouting began. A moment later, Joseph burst in on them. One hand was pressed against his bleeding head. In the other he clutched a copy of the Independent Intelligencer.

”He's gone, Dr. Northcote!” Joseph cried. ”Your brother's run off again!”

”d.a.m.nation! I thought he was locked in!”

”He was, but when I went back to check on him, he was gone.”

Ben examined Joseph's injury. ”Nothing serious. Aaron didn't strike you, then?”

”No, sir. I fell on my way to tell you he'd escaped.”

”Go,” Diana said when Ben hesitated and looked at her. ”I'm safe in the house.”

”Stay with her,” Ben told Joseph.

He went first to the carriage house. There was no sign of Aaron, but the portraits he'd just completed were now on display. Ben cursed under his breath. They were all half-naked mermaids. And they all had Diana's face.

With Ernest's help, Ben searched the grounds, aided by a moon just past the full, but there was no getting around the hard truth -- Aaron was long gone. He could have slipped out at any time after he read that newspaper.

Ben didn't care for the implications. Had Aaron taken Diana's promise to reveal the name of a murderer as a threat to him? He'd always claimed he couldn't recall some of the things that had happened to him on his visits to Philadelphia and New York, but had he remembered now? Or had he jumped to the conclusion, reinforced by the kinds of questions Ben had asked him, that he might be a killer and not realize it?

There was no way to know until Aaron was found. Haunted by the possibilities, worried about what his brother might do if he believed his voices had led him to commit a crime for which he could be locked up, Ben returned to the house to tell Diana he was going off the grounds to search for his brother.

”If I can't find him, I may have to call in the marshals. I can't take any more risks.”

”He cannot believe I was about to accuse him. He could not have killed those women. Remember what Clarissa said.”

”She's a wh.o.r.e, Diana. She'll say anything for money. And if she did lie, Aaron could be guilty.” The idea sickened him. ”Have you a better explanation? No one confessed at your little supper party.”

”And Aaron has not confessed, either.”

”He ran away. That's proof he -- ”

”That's proof he's scared. Confused. Not that he killed anyone. He told you he couldn't remember.”

”I can't take any chances. Do you know what I found in his studio? New paintings. At least a half dozen of them. All of you. He's obsessed with you.”

”That has nothing to do with anything.”

”It has everything to do with it!” He seized her by the shoulders. He'd break his vow never to send Aaron to an inst.i.tution rather than risk this woman's life again. ”You're ... important to me, Diana.”

”You're important to me, too, Ben. You're the finest man I've ever known.”