Fatal Masquerade. Vivian Conroy
as Alkmene had the distinct impression somebody was there.
She froze on the threshold, wondering for a brief moment whom it would be more painful to encounter: the diabolical psychiatrist’s wandering wife or the man who had been shadowing her. She was curious who it could be.
But there was nobody to be seen.
Alkmene’s gaze lingered for a few moments on more golden draperies against the far wall. Could somebody be hiding behind those?
But why would a guest hide? It was perfectly acceptable to be here on a night like this, enjoying a drink and some conversation before the boat ride.
Wasn’t there supposed to be a servant here, too? To look after guests and refill the glasses? Where was he?
Alkmene moved into the room with determination. She had to find another lantern to light. Once the gloom was lifted from the place, she’d feel better. Then a glass of champagne or two…
Confident now, she rounded the table with the dying lantern. Her foot hit something solid, and she squeaked.
Glancing down, she stared full into an upturned face. There was still a lingering haughtiness in the features that were now perfectly still in death. Cobb’s wig had slipped off as he’d fallen. It lay askew, half beside his body, half underneath.
It wasn’t necessary to ask what had caused Cobb’s death. The handle of a steak knife stuck out of his chest. Around it a dark stain was spreading.
Alkmene stood and stared. She had often heard that people screamed when they found a dead body, but she was too surprised to scream. How had the arrogant servant who had walked about upstairs where he had no business died? Who had killed him?
Her eyes stayed fixed with a sort of macabre fascination on Cobb’s hands, which were clutched into fists as if he had tried to fight off death when it had pounced on him.
Then a sound pulled Alkmene’s attention to the door.
Footfalls resounded outside.
Somebody was coming.
In a dreadful heartbeat, Alkmene became certain it was the killer returning to remove some bit of incriminating evidence from the scene of the crime. Without thinking further, she slipped behind the nearest golden drapery. Even with her back pressed as tightly against the wooden wall as she could manage, there was so little room that the toes of her shoes peeked out from under the drapery. She held her breath, hoping the killer would be too preoccupied with his chore to notice anything amiss.
Nevertheless, she clutched her fan, determined to hit out with it the moment the curtain was torn away and she found herself staring into the evil, twisted features of a killer who wouldn’t hesitate to silence this unfortunate witness. Jake would say it was just like her to land face first in trouble.
She could only hope she’d survive this and have time to laugh about it with him.
Footfalls neared her hiding place. Her heartbeat was so loud, she was certain the killer could hear it.
She wanted to peek to see how near he was to her, but did not dare. She had a chance, however small, of going unnoticed, and she couldn’t risk that with a stupid action made out of curiosity or fear.
The footfalls ceased. She could swear she heard breathing. Male, she figured.
Muttered words.
Then silence. As if the figure had looked up and seen something. Her?
No – what he had come back for, of course. Something he had lost at the scene that might give away his identity. Now he had spotted it, on the floor most likely, he’d fetch it and retreat. He wouldn’t see her, let alone pull aside the drapery and kill her, too.
Too bad she hadn’t had a chance to look better at possible clues, on the floor or table; too bad she hadn’t seen anything telltale.
Once the killer had removed it, it would be hard to figure out what it had been and whose identity it might have given away.
A rustling sound. Too close to give her any reassurance.
Alkmene resisted the urge to close her eyes as she had done as a little girl when hiding under the blankets of her bed from the violence of a thunderstorm outside. She had to keep her eyes wide open and her fan ready to attack.
Then the drapery was jerked aside, so hard that the pins attaching it to the wall above gave way and the whole thing fluttered down.
Alkmene gasped, throwing up both her hands.
Just a few inches in front of her, a dark, intense stare gazed directly upon her. Without his mask he was easy to recognize.
Keegan.
The unsociable legal genius who, according to Denise, was immortally in love with her.
Alkmene had no idea why Keegan of all people would have wanted to kill Cobb – had the arrogant chap leered at Denise? – but no doubt it didn’t matter any more. The lawyer looked determined enough to kill again. Right here, right now.
‘You killed him?’ Keegan shot in a low voice, gesturing over his shoulder at the dead body.
Alkmene exhaled. ‘Of course not.’
‘Then what are you doing here?’
‘I could ask you the same thing.’
Keegan reached his right hand into the pocket of his jacket. Suntanned and muscled, it suggested he wasn’t always hiding indoors with his law books. As the hand came up again, it was clutching a sheet of paper. He held it out to her.
There were but a few scribbled words on the paper. ‘Meet me in the boathouse at midnight. Life or death situation.’
‘One could say that again,’ Alkmene commented dryly, nodding at the body on the floor. ‘Your would-be client will never get to enjoy your services.’
‘You think he wanted to hire me?’ the lawyer asked with a frown.
‘Obviously Cobb knew something that put his life in danger. He wanted to ask you for advice. But before he could share his knowledge with you, he was killed.’
The lawyer hmmm-ed. ‘The boathouse was full of people tonight.’ He nodded at the tray with the glasses. ‘Why ask for a secret meeting in a place like this?’
Alkmene shrugged. ‘His remark in the dining room suggests he was stationed here for the night. He was a servant, so he could not move about freely. He might have argued that you could come here innocently enough, as anybody seeing you would assume you were here for the gondola trip. Then, once you were here and nobody was around, he would speak with you about this uh… life or death situation. I wonder what it can have been.’
Alkmene wrapped her arms around her shoulders. ‘Cobb didn’t seem like the innocent-victim type, though. I found him rather unpleasant.’
‘Bit of a ladies’ man, I gathered,’ Keegan said, glancing from the dead man to Alkmene. ‘He winked at you when he served the champagne before dinner.’
Alkmene straightened up as far as she could, still standing in her rather cornered position against the wall. ‘I did not meet Cobb here for an illicit assignation if that’s what you’re trying to suggest. And I didn’t stab him when he got a little too… convincing?’
She tilted her head. ‘I can imagine what it must have looked like to you. But I assure you that, until I saw Cobb in the corridor this afternoon, right after my arrival, I had never seen him before. I have no idea why he winked at me. My guess was that he was simply a pompous chap who probably thought he could get any woman he put his mind to. I also saw him from my window when I was getting dressed for the ball. The housekeeper was pleading with him, and he just shrugged her off. At least I think