Late for the Wedding

by Amanda Quick

  Aspasia Gray reached into her reticule and removed a pistol. “In that case, I’m sure you will not mind doing a lady one last favor before you cock up your toes.”

  Lavinia pulled open the last drawer in the back of the large wardrobe and saw the blond wig. Satisfaction blazed through her.

  “I knew it had to be here somewhere.”

  The wig alone hardly constituted proof of murder, she reminded herself. She needed more evidence, preferably something that would link Aspasia to the events of the past. But the false hair was most certainly a start. She could not wait to tell Tobias.

  At that moment she heard the muffled sound of the front door opening downstairs.

  Her palms tingled. For a second or two she could not move or breathe.

  With an effort, she broke through the paralyzing fear. She jerked back out of the wardrobe and turned quickly toward the door. Whoever had just come into the house had entered through the front hall. If she moved quietly, she could retreat the same way she had come, down the back stairs.

  She crossed the carpet and paused at the doorway to listen.

  “I am well-aware that you are up there, Lavinia,” Aspasia called from the foot of the master staircase. “Come out at once or I will lodge a bullet in the old man’s head. That should take care of his faded dreams once and for all, don’t you agree?”

  A queasy, weightless feeling seized Lavinia. Aspasia had taken the old man hostage.

  “I knew from the start of this affair that you would likely make things difficult,” Aspasia said. “You never cared much for me, did you? That is why I set a pair of street boys to keep an eye on you today, even though the affair of the Memento-Mori Man was supposedly over. When they saw you leave the shop and start toward my house, they came to tell me.”

  She sounded closer now. Lavinia heard heavy, muffled footsteps and realized that Aspasia was forcing the old man up the stairs.

  She took off her silver pendant. Holding the end of the chain in one hand, she stepped out into the hall and went slowly forward to stand overlooking the railing.

  When she looked down, her fears were confirmed. Aspasia and the old man were halfway up the staircase. She had a pistol leveled at his temple.

  The old man was breathing heavily. The air rasped in his lungs. He grasped the railing in one hand and clung to his walking stick with the other.

  He paused and looked up at Lavinia. “Forgive me, my dear,” he managed between labored gasps.

  “Let him go, Aspasia.” Lavinia moved her hand slightly, letting the silver Minerva pendant catch the light streaming in through the high windows that illuminated the stairwell. “He cannot hurt you.”

  Aspasia was amused. “Of course he cannot hurt me. But he is useful at the moment. I have learned a great deal about you in recent days, you see. You have much in common with Tobias. You both have a noble streak. Neither of you would allow another to die in your place while you fled to safety.”

  “I am not fleeing, Aspasia.” Lavinia let the pendant dangle with what she hoped appeared to be a supremely casual lack of concern, as though she did not even recall holding it in her hand. But she made certain that it glinted and glittered in the sun. “See? I am standing right here. You can let him go.”

  “Not yet.” Aspasia frowned at the pendant and then shook her head once, as though the sight of the gently swinging silver confused her. She prodded the old man with the pistol. “Not until we are closer. Pistols are so very unreliable at this distance, you see.”

  “You would know, wouldn’t you?” Lavinia asked. “Indeed, you are an expert. How many people have you murdered, Aspasia?”

  “Counting the deaths that Zachary and I plotted together?” Aspasia laughed lightly. “Thirteen in all.”

  “An unlucky number,” the old man wheezed.

  “Quiet, you fool.” Aspasia pushed the nose of the pistol against the side of his head. “Or I will pull the trigger now.”

  “No.” Lavinia leaned out over the railing and swung the pendant steadily. “Aspasia, look at me. Listen to me. He has nothing to do with this matter. You can let him go.”

  “My advice is to run.” The old man halted once more on the stairs, clutching the banister for support, and drew another ragged breath. “She’s got only the one pistol, I believe. In the time it takes her to reload after she shoots me, you will be able to escape.”

  “I warned you to be quiet, old man.” Aspasia raised the pistol and made to strike him with the handle.

  “You shot the hairdresser last night, didn’t you?” Lavinia asked quickly, hoping to distract her.

  “Yes.” Aspasia lowered the hand holding the pistol, frowning intently at the glittering pendant. “I had no choice. He was blackmailing me. I was to leave the first of what he no doubt intended to be many payments in a small lane off Bond Street. As if I were one of his clients, if you can imagine.”

  Lavinia saw a shadow shift in the hall below the staircase. Her first thought was that it was a trick of the light. Nevertheless, her spirits lifted a little.

  It was suddenly vital to keep Aspasia talking.

  “Why was Mr. Pierce blackmailing you?” she asked. The pendant continued to sway in a gentle arc. “What did he know about you?”

  Aspasia gave her a dazzling smile. “You mean you haven’t reasoned it out yet? You disappoint me, Mrs. Lake. I not only became Zachary’s lover, I also became his partner.”

  Lavinia was stunned. “His partner?”

  “Why do you find that so odd? You and Mr. March are partners, are you not? Unfortunately, Zachary kept some of his secrets to the end. Evidently he took the precaution of writing a letter. In it he confided the nature of my connection to some of his business affairs. For some reason that I do not understand, the letter must have disappeared for a time. But it somehow found its way into someone’s hands quite recently.”

  “Why did Elland make you his partner?”

  Aspasia smiled coldly. “Because he loved me and because he recognized a kindred spirit.”

  “Tobias was right in that regard.”

  “Do you know, Zachary rather enjoyed his role as the daring spy. I think he actually considered himself something of a hero. But unfortunately, that sort of thing rarely pays well. In fact, it did not pay at all. So Zachary continued to ply his trade while he worked for Crown and Country.”

  “You assisted him?”

  “He enjoyed teaching me his craft, and I discovered that I loved the thrill of the business. There is no drug or elixir quite like the rush of intense excitement that comes with the kill. There is such a feeling of power. You cannot even imagine the sensation unless you experience it yourself.”

  “But if you loved him and you were partners, why in heaven’s name did you kill him?” Lavinia demanded.

  “Zachary began to revel far too much in the games he played with March. In his mind, they were two consummate chess players engaged in the ultimate match. But I could see that March was closing in rapidly. I insisted we get rid of him. Zachary and I quarreled over the matter. He would not listen to me. He was so sure that he could continue to outfox his pursuer. He had a strange obsession with March. I think he wanted to prove to himself that he was the superior hunter.”

  “But you knew that it was only a matter of time before Tobias had him taken up on charges of murder, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. I also knew that when that happened, the truth about my connection to some of the deaths would come out. I thought about trying to kill Tobias myself, but in the end I decided that it would be simpler and ever so much safer to get rid of Zachary.”

  “When it was finished, you moved to Paris.”

  “I thought it best to leave England for a time.” Aspasia smiled. “I wanted to give Tobias a chance to forget any nagging questions that might lead him to me. Then, about two months ago, I returned to London to resume my life.”

  “And your career as a murderess as well?”

  “For me, it is a sport, not a professio
n,” Aspasia said. “I went hunting on several occasions in Paris and had planned to continue the pastime here in London. I find my little adventures a very effective tonic for ennui. But the morning of Beaumont’s house party, I received the first blackmail note and that bloody ring.”

  Understanding struck Lavinia quite forcefully. “You did not know who the blackmailer was, though, did you? So you employed Tobias to find him for you.”

  “We each have our talents. I am expert at making the kill, but I admit I have no particular skill for the investigation business.”

  “What happened last night?” Lavinia asked.

  “After you identified Pierce as the killer, I set some street boys to watch his lodgings for me. The same urchins who followed you today, as a matter of fact. In any event, when Pierce left to carry out his commission, they came to tell me. I went directly to his rooms to search for Zachary’s letter.”

  “But you did not find it.”

  “No. I found a safe in the floor, but it was empty. I decided to wait for Pierce. I intended to try to force him to tell me the location of the letter. I hid in the wardrobe. When he arrived, I could hear him breathing hard and I knew at once that something had happened. I watched through the crack in the door and saw him unlock a second hidden safe. That was all I needed. When he opened the door of the wardrobe, I shot him, took the letter, and left.”

  The old man was slumped heavily against the banister, still struggling to breathe. The shadows in the hall shifted again. Lavinia saw Tobias emerge and move toward the foot of the staircase. He held a pistol in his hand.

  “You made a couple of mistakes along the way, Aspasia,” he said.

  “Tobias.” Aspasia turned slightly, eyes widening in shock. “How did you—”

  What happened next occurred in the wink of an eye. The old man straightened with the speed of a striking viper. He lashed out with the walking stick in a short, brutal arc that caught Aspasia at the back of her head with a sickening thud.

  She toppled forward in a curiously slowed motion. The pistol in her hand exploded harmlessly, filling the hall with thunder, smoke, and the smell of burning gunpowder.

  She fell headfirst down the staircase, thumping horribly against each step. Tobias had to put his back to the wall to avoid being struck by her.

  Lavinia was so transfixed by the sight of Aspasia’s hurtling body that she did not even notice the old man climbing swiftly up the staircase until he reached the landing and paused beside her.

  “You, Mrs. Lake, are the stuff of dreams.” He smiled. “If I were even thirty years younger, I assure you that this matter would end in an entirely different fashion.”

  She stared at him, speechless.

  The old man glanced back at Tobias, who was coming up the staircase, pistol in hand.

  “Or perhaps not,” the old man said dryly. “Your Mr. March is worthy of you. Indeed, I only wish that I’d had the opportunity to take him on as an apprentice years ago. He would have made a fine heir to my business.” He tipped his hat. “Good day to you, madam. I trust you will remember our discussion of dreams from time to time.”

  He went quickly past her, opened the door that led to the back stairs, and disappeared.

  To Lavinia’s surprise and enormous relief, Tobias did not give chase. When he reached the top of the stairs, he halted beside her and slowly lowered the pistol.

  Together they stood gazing down the hallway at the place where the old man had vanished.

  “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes.” She pulled herself together. “Aspasia?”

  “Dead. I suspect her neck was broken before she took that tumble down those stairs.”

  Lavinia swallowed heavily, thinking about the speed and power of the blow that had felled Aspasia.

  “Tobias, surely that was not who I think it was,” she whispered.

  Tobias reached past her to pick up a tiny object sitting on the railing behind her. He held the little ring between thumb and forefinger. A grinning death's-head worked in gold caught the light.

  “I think we may congratulate ourselves, my love,” he said quietly. “I believe that we have both just encountered the legendary Memento-Mori Man and lived to tell the tale.”

  Chapter 31

  They gathered in Joan’s elegant yellow, green, and gilt drawing room. Tobias and Vale lounged against the walls near the windows. Lavinia sat on the sofa across from their hostess.

  “My condolences on the loss of your client,” Vale said to Tobias. “I assume that under the circumstances, you will be unable to collect your fee.”

  Tobias’s face was set in grim lines. “Unfortunately, that is indeed the situation. We shall miss our fee, but at least I am not also missing a partner.”

  Lavinia pretended not to hear the remark. Since the events of yesterday afternoon, Tobias had not overlooked any opportunity to make pointed comments about her close brush with disaster.

  “There are one or two things that I do not yet fully comprehend.” Joan handed a cup of tea to Lavinia. “Tell me more about the wigs.”

  “We will never know where Pierce got the blond wig he used in the course of the murder at Beaumont Castle,” Lavinia said. “I warned Tobias at the outset that it might be difficult to track down that particular purchase. Personally, I’m inclined to think that Pierce acquired it in Paris. He mentioned to Emeline and Priscilla that he had studied his hairdressing art there. All we know is that he did use one. And Aspasia knew that also because we told her. Upon returning to London, she concluded immediately that I was a nuisance she could do without. She purchased a blond wig of her own and went into the stews to hire a footpad to frighten me off the case.”

  “She made certain that Sweet Ned noticed her hair, hoping that if he was caught, we would conclude that it was the Memento-Mori Man who had employed him,” Tobias said.

  “What of the events at Swaine’s wig shop?” Vale asked.

  “I finally managed to make sense of things yesterday when I went through the wig-maker’s journal of accounts a second time,” Tobias said. “I was searching for an earlier purchase of a yellow-haired wig, assuming that the killer must have bought his before leaving for Beaumont Castle. But I came across two other transactions that were extremely interesting. One for a blond wig purchased two days after the murder.”

  “And the other?” Joan prompted.

  “A black-haired wig purchased the day of the house party,” Tobias said softly. “The wig-maker had noted it in his records as a black wig in the Egyptian style.”

  “Tobias realized that Aspasia had been in the shop on at least one prior occasion,” Lavinia said.

  Vale’s brows rose. “That was enough to make you suspect that she was a murderess?”

  “The fact that she had purchased her Cleopatra wig from the one and only wig-maker who died under mysterious circumstances in the course of this investigation struck me as something other than a mere coincidence, yes.”

  Vale smiled. “When you put it like that, I can certainly see your point.”

  “The sale of a blond wig two days later suddenly took on a new significance,” Tobias said. “As did the fact that a summons from Aspasia was what had lured Lavinia to the cemetery. I also somewhat belatedly recalled that Pierce was left-handed. Anthony and Dominic Hood confirmed that memory. Given that the pistol with which Pierce had supposedly shot himself was found in his right hand, I was strongly inclined toward the conclusion that there was another killer hanging about.”

  “Tobias reasoned that Aspasia was the one person involved in this affair who not only had strong links to what happened three years ago but who also knew we had concluded that the hairdresser was the new Memento-Mori Man.”

  “When I added those details to one other odd fact, the pieces of the puzzle slipped into place,” Tobias said.

  Vale looked interested. “What was that fact?”

  “I never understood fully why the killer had sent that first death's-head ring t
o Aspasia. I comprehended well enough that he might wish to challenge me. He seemed obsessed with emulating Elland, and I thought it possible that he blamed me for the fact that Zachary had been driven to take his own life. But why would he bother to taunt Aspasia? She claimed that it was because she had once been Elland’s lover. Granted, one cannot expect sound reasoning from a killer, but somehow that did not seem to make great sense to me.”

  “Indeed.” Vale studied him. “He was clearly fixed on you as his opponent. Why would he concern himself with his brother’s lover unless there was some profit in it?”

  “He did have a reason for sending that ring to her,” Lavinia said. “It was his way of assuring her that he knew her secrets when he informed her he had a certain letter that he planned to use to blackmail her.”

  “Very well,” Joan said. “I can see why you rushed to Aspasia’s address yesterday afternoon, Tobias.” She looked at Lavinia. “But what on earth made you decide to search her house yesterday?”

  “An excellent question.” Tobias gave Lavinia a dark look. “You may be assured that I asked it myself.”

  “Not that he paid any attention to the answer,” Lavinia said briskly. “I vow, he would not leave the matter alone last night. It was most annoying. He carried straight on through a cold supper that I was attempting to enjoy. Eventually I was obliged to ask him quite forcefully to leave the house and come back when he was in a better mood.”

  “Well?” Vale prompted. “What is the answer? Why did you go to search Aspasia’s town house?”

  There was a short silence. Lavinia could feel all eyes on her. She took a sip of tea and put down her cup.

  “Impulse,” she said.

  Tobias looked even more grim.

  “I saw Aspasia in Oxford Street yesterday,” she continued. “When she alighted from her carriage I noticed her half boots and I thought of something that Sweet Ned had said when I asked him to describe the attire of the woman who had employed him. Among other things, he mentioned that she wore a pair of low kid boots.”