Deadlier Than the Pen (17 page)

*Chapter Eighteen*
Several hours later, after they had brought Aaron home and convinced him that no one suspected him of murder, Diana pirouetted before her mirror in a new evening gown. It was a splendid creation of blue velvet with a vest of straw-colored satin embroidered and trimmed with black Chantilly lace. It had a long, square train and a small satin collar and epaulets that were composed of double frills of lace held by richly beaded passementerie that fell in tassels.
"Suitable for a night at the theater?" she asked Ben, who watched her from the doorway. She rather liked the hungry look in his eyes.
Diana had returned to the house to discover that Maggie's dressmaker had delivered the creation in their absence.
"You want to go out? Tonight?"
"Maggie would like to see Toddy's troupe in action. Surely you don't want her to go alone."
"Can you bear _The Duchess of Calabria_ again?"
"I shall enjoy Maggie's reactions to it."
Diana had all but decided she _was_ wrong about Charles Underly. In any case, if something was going to happen, it seemed likely it would be after Saturday's performance, not tonight. All the murders, and the attempt on her in New York, had followed the same pattern.
She smiled confidently at her image in the mirror and winked at Ben's scowling countenance reflected behind her. The common thread, if there was one, was the day of the week and the imminent departure of Todd's Touring Thespians from their current stand.
"I do not like seeing you use yourself as bait, Diana. I want you safe."
She did not argue, merely turned and extended her hand. "Maggie's waiting for us. Do you want to change into more formal apparel or go as you are?"
He took his time studying her gown. "I'll change," he said in a voice that was very nearly a growl. "Don't take one step out of the house without me."
* * * *
A short time later they were on their way to the Bangor Opera House. "You'll find it a very modern structure," Maggie said. "There are enough fixed folding chairs for an audience of 700. A marked improvement over the moveable benches used elsewhere in the city."
When she saw the interior, Diana had to agree. On stage a painted curtain decorated with castles and snow-capped peaks formed the backdrop for a spacious stage.
"When Oscar Wilde was here," Ben said, "they hung tapestries that made it look like an elegant parlor."
Maggie fell silent when the play began and said not a single word as the drama unfolded. Diana did not attempt to speak either. She studied the actors from a new perspective and came away thinking that, on stage at least, neither Toddy nor Charles Underly were convincing murderers.
At the interval a note was delivered to Diana. "From Lavinia Ross," she murmured in a bemused voice. "An invitation to come backstage after the play." It was the last thing she'd expected. It reminded her that she'd received a similar invitation on a certain Saturday night in New York.
An hour later, they descended the flight of stairs that led from the stage to the dressing rooms, which were situated directly beneath the auditorium. The one Lavinia shared with Patsy and Jerusha was heated with steam and fitted out with a large mirror. Gas brackets on each side provided light to apply grease paint, and there were plenty of hooks for clothing. A marble wash bowl added the final elegant touch. Someone who cared about the needs of theatrical people had designed this theater.
"I have been considering what you told us at supper last night," Lavinia said after she and Diana had greeted each other with false affection and even more exaggerated compliments, on Diana's part, about Lavinia's performance. "Your promise to reveal the identity of a murderer was not intended as a joke, was it?"
"No," Diana admitted.
"And your fall on the train? That was no accident? Nor was the incident on the ice?" In spite of Lavinia's breathy voice, her words conveyed the seriousness of the questions.
"I don't know. And I don't know who the murderer is, either. It was just a bluff."
Lavinia turned away to rub rouge off her cheeks, but the mirror reflected the wicked glee in her eyes. "I do. Send for the constable, Diana. Tell him to arrest Charles Underly."
Jerusha gasped. Patsy's hands stilled in the act of removing her greasepaint.
"The law demands proof," Ben said in a mild voice. "I have no difficulty believing Underly guilty, but the city marshals and the county sheriff may need convincing."
"I can testify that I caught him creeping about in the drawing-room car that night on the train," Lavinia said. "It was just before you were found in the snow, Diana. Charles tried to convince me he was waiting for me. That he had a romantic interest in me. That is why I didn't mention the incident before. Toddy is so terribly jealous." She ignored Jerusha's snort of disbelief. "It did not seem suspicious at the time."
"Did no one notice that he'd slipped out of the parlor car? He'd have had no business in the drawing-room car."
"Mrs. Wainflete had already retired for the night," said Jerusha. "No one else would have cared."
"Except Toddy." Lavinia's squawk of protest had no effect on her rival.
"If anyone had seen him," Jerusha mused, "they'd have assumed he was on his way to the men's washroom. The door to the gents was right next to the exit."
"It doesn't matter what anyone thought at the time," Lavinia sputtered. "We all know how upset Charles was by his reviews. Now we know what he did about it."
"His behavior that night does sound suspicious," Diana agreed, "but being in the drawing-room car is not enough, of itself, to condemn him."
"There's more." Lavinia's eyes gleamed with malice. "He deliberately caused me to fall on the ice, then called to you for help in order to lure you across the thin part. And those three women were stabbed, were they not?" She did not wait for confirmation before she pounded the final nail into Charles Underly's coffin. "Surely you have noticed how he clings to his cane."
"His cane? But -- "
Lavinia laughed. "Didn't you realize it's a sword stick? One twist of the handle and he can unsheathe a length of the finest Toledo steel. Perfect for dealing with intrusive members of the press."
* * * *
Ben had heard enough. He slipped out of the dressing room and sent for both the marshal and the county sheriff's deputies. When they arrived, they took Charles Underly into custody, ignoring his loud protests.
"I am innocent, I tell you!" he shouted.
"What if he's telling the truth?" Diana whispered. She and Ben stood beside Maggie and the three actresses at the entrance to their dressing room.
"He'd be a fool to admit to the charges."
Underly sent a last, pleading glance over his shoulder. It contained none of his usual arrogance, or even resentment, only panic and confusion. "Help me, for God's sake! Find the real killer."
"I didn't think he was that good an actor," Diana murmured.
Nathan Todd, watching from the other side of the small lobby that separated the dressing rooms, wore a stricken expression. Ben wasn't sure what upset the actor/manager more, the accusation that Underly was a murderer or the news that Lavinia had been keeping secrets from him. Todd rounded on the young woman as soon as the prisoner was out of sight. "If you thought he was trying to seduce you, you should have said something."
Jaw set, back ramrod straight, Lavinia stormed into Todd's dressing room. He followed, slamming the door behind him.
"Oh, la," Jerusha said.
"Maybe he'll finally realize what a shrew that girl is," Patsy remarked as sounds of an escalating quarrel reached them. She handed Jerusha her wrap, preparatory to returning to the hotel.
"Will the next two performances be canceled?" Maggie asked.
"Oh, I doubt it." Jerusha managed a bright smile. "Toddy was saying just this morning that he'd found a likely young actor right here in Bangor. I expect he'll take him on to replace Charles."
"Unless Charles Underly is set free."
Ben turned to stare at Diana. She almost sounded as if she felt some sympathy for the fellow.
* * * *
Time hung heavily on Diana's hands after Ben escorted her and Maggie home. He let them out in the _porte-cochere_ and turned the buggy back towards town. He told them he meant to sit in on the prisoner's interrogation, that he wanted to be there when Underly broke down and confessed.
Maggie went off to bed. Nothing seemed to affect her ability to get a good night's sleep. But Diana could not settle down. At length she decided that she needed a bit of fresh air to help her relax. The day, like its weather, had contained high points and low points -- rain in the forenoon had cleared off, then it had clouded up, then the skies had cleared again. Although overall it been a mild day and tomorrow was supposed to be even more balmy, Diana added a heavy cloak on top of her new gown before she ventured out.
Taking her time, she made her way along the short stretch of path from the main house to the darkened carriage house. No lights burned, suggesting that Aaron was sound asleep. Joseph, she remembered, had his own snug little room on the lower level, tucked in between the bays where sleigh, buggy, and buckboard were kept.
She continued along the path, hoping the exercise would soon tire her out sufficiently to allow her to sleep through the night. Instead, she appeared to be waking up and thinking more clearly. Her uncertainty about Charles Underly's guilt increased. What evidence was there against him? Only what Lavinia had said. That information did seem incriminating, but what had impelled the young actress to come forward? Why, when everyone else thought Diana's threats were a joke, had she taken them seriously? Something, somewhere, did not make sense.
Guided by moonlight, Diana walked on until she came to the stand of ash that surrounded the crypt. The trees would leaf out soon. She wondered if she would be here to see them. There were times she thought Ben loved her and meant to propose marriage. Others when she was sure he saw no future for them.
If insanity _could_ be inherited, then he might one day go mad. So could any children he fathered. She exhaled a gusty sigh. There were ways to prevent conception -- witness the sponge from Miss Jenny's, which she'd hidden in her armoire. But was she willing to take a risk on Ben himself?
Diana stopped at the sound of a soft footfall behind her. She looked back but saw only shadows and moonlight. Utter silence surrounded her. No creature seemed to be stirring and yet she suddenly had the uneasy feeling she was not alone.
There should be small sounds, she realized. Wildlife. Birds. Animals were only quiet when they sensed danger.
The bushes off to her right rustled. Cedric, she thought, out hunting mice. Or some other nocturnal creature. Then a shadow moved and fear stabbed through her. Whatever she'd just seen was as tall as she was. It had left waist-high branches swaying in its wake.
The blow came just as she bolted for the house, striking her behind her right ear. Diana reeled as pain exploded. Colored stars flared and died. In the second before everything went black, she knew they'd made a huge mistake. Charles Underly was not guilty. The real killer was here.
* * * *
When she came to her senses, she was lying on cold, smooth stone. Her head throbbed unmercifully. An involuntary moan escaped her.
"About time," a familiar voice said. "A crypt is not a comfortable place in which to wait."
Reluctantly, Diana lifted eyelids that felt weighted with cement. "You couldn't have killed those three women," she whispered.
"Why not?" Lavinia Ross demanded.
Diana's captor stood with her back braced against the heavy door of the Northcote family vault, blocking the exit. A flickering lantern cast eerie shadows over her facial features, but Diana could see her eyes plainly. There was no mistaking the hatred that glittered in them.
"The person who attacked me in New York -- that was a man. I saw him. Felt his grip on me."
Lavinia laughed. "You must have more than one enemy, Diana. I had nothing to do with any attack in New York."
_Foxe. It had been Foxe's man all along._
Careful not to move too swiftly, lest she make the pain in her head worse, Diana eased herself upright. The beautiful velvet and satin gown felt cold against her body. The warm cloak she wore over it did nothing to ward off the chill settling into her bones.
Diana had no idea how long she'd been unconscious, but she knew it was unlikely that anyone had seen them enter the vault. No one was going to rescue her this time. She had only her own wits to rely on.
At least Lavinia hadn't stabbed her on the spot. But a closer look at the object in the other woman's hand, the object she'd probably used to clout her victim on the head, sent Diana's optimism plunging. It was a deadly-looking pistol.
"I _wanted_ to kill you in New York." Lavinia's words made Diana shiver in a reaction that had nothing to do with the temperature in the crypt. "I contrived to have Toddy invite you backstage, but you didn't come."
"Is that how you enticed those other women?" Had Toddy been her accomplice? Or an unwitting dupe?
Lavinia laughed again. This time the sound had a wildness about it, as if her control had slipped. Or her sanity. "Toddy has been useful," she admitted. "The fool was so blinded by love that he'd do anything I asked."
"You were performing in Philadelphia in November as a magician's assistant," Diana said. "Dolly Dare must have seen that performance."
"She deserved to die! They all did! They said terrible things about me!"
The shrill voice made Diana flinch, but what terrified her was the look in Lavinia's eyes.

"Stay where you are!" Lavinia cocked the pistol for emphasis.
Diana gave up a reckless attempt to scramble to her feet and run. She swallowed convulsively and tried to reason with her captor. "With Charles in custody it will be difficult to blame my death on him. And shouldn't you stab me? The gun is all wrong."
With a visible effort, Lavinia got herself under control. She smiled sweetly and spoke in her little-girl voice. "Shall I shoot you? Or leave you here to die of starvation and cold? Or stab you to death? I didn't use Charles's sword-stick, you know. I have my own knife."
Diana didn't care much for any of those choices and liked Lavinia's erratic behavior even less.
"As it happens, I've already decided. I had time to think while you napped." Her tone sounded rational. Her words were not. "You will stay here long enough to contemplate all your sins against me. The others had only a moment to regret what they had done, but your crime is far greater. You betrayed your own kind. You thought you were clever, didn't you? You critics are all alike. You don't care who you hurt."
Diana stared at her as she muttered invective against her victims, quoting bits of bad reviews, clearly irrational on the subject. In her heart, Diana knew that nothing she'd written had been terrible enough to warrant such a reaction. She was not responsible for Lavinia's madness. And yet a sense of guilt pressed down on her, almost paralyzing in its intensity. Was this, she wondered, how Ben felt about Aaron's condition?
Abruptly, Lavinia began to shout. "You made a fatal mistake when you panned my performance, and another by not remembering that a woman can desire revenge as intensely as a man."
This was what Maggie had seen in Lavinia, Diana thought. The reason she'd imagined the actress capable of portraying Hannah Sussep and the Blood Countess.
"I always meant to kill you, Diana." Lavinia fumbled behind her back with her free hand and opened the door. "You were doomed from the moment you first blackened my name in print."
"You cannot possibly hope to get away with this."
"Brave words," Lavinia sneered. "But I will, you see, and shift the blame to Charles Underly, too. Charles is sure to be released from jail. There's no real evidence against him. If worse comes to worst, I'll break him out. I learned how to pick locks in my previous career."
Diana eased to her feet as Lavinia backed out of the crypt, but the gun trained on her chest discouraged her from trying to rush the other woman.
"Why should Charles listen to you?" Did he know Lavinia was responsible for his arrest? Diana wasn't sure.
"He'll listen. I've never met a man yet I couldn't persuade to believe me. And afterward, dear Diana, I'll come back here and kill you and make it look as if Charles did you in."
"You're insane!"
"Am I? I prefer to think of myself as very, very clever." With a jaunty salute, she slipped through the opening and locked the vault behind her.
Alone in the crypt, Diana fought against incipient panic. Lavinia had left her in the vault alive. That meant there was at least a chance she might escape. Diana clung to that faint hope.
The temperature was above freezing, but it was still terribly cold. The flickering lantern provided no heat at all. Diana stopped and stared at it. When it ran out of oil, she'd be left in the dark. Hurriedly, she collected the other lanterns from their niches. Then she paced, since the only way to stay warm was to keep moving.
In a melodrama, she thought, the heroine locked in a tomb would be rescued in the nick of time by the hero, but this story wasn't following any script that Diana had ever read.
Ben would come home. Perhaps he had already returned. But he'd assume she was asleep. No one would wonder where she was until at least late morning, and if Maggie went straight to work on her current project and Ben had to be in his office early, it might be evening before she was missed.
How long would it take Lavinia to carry out her plan? Hours? All day? Diana continued to prowl the confines of her prison like a caged beast. That there were glaring holes in Lavinia's logic, flaws that could lead to her capture, did little to cheer her. If Lavinia did not return, Diana might well freeze to death, or die of starvation.
It was only when she stopped pacing that she became aware of a current of colder air. Puzzled, she sought the source and located a grate high above her head. She'd assumed that the crypt was soundproof and had made no attempt to call for help, but where air could come in, perhaps sound could get out.
Diana shouted for all she was worth and did not stop until her throat was raw and her voice raspy.
Nothing! Frustration turned to anger. If she did not survive this ordeal, at the least she must find a way to implicate Lavinia in her death. Picking up the lantern, she studied the vaulted chamber. It was all but bare, since the Northcotes sealed up their deceased kinfolk. Lacking any other source of inspiration, Diana began to read inscriptions.
Abraham Northcote, Ben and Aaron's father, had died eight years earlier. To his right was a space for Maggie. "Magda Bathory Northcote, Beloved Wife of Abraham Northcote," the brass plate said. It gave her birth date -- 1837 -- but left the space for date of death blank.
To the left of Abraham Northcote was another brass plate. Diana leaned closer, expecting to find the name of a sister, or perhaps some member of the previous generation. Instead, like Maggie's inscription, the plaque said "Beloved Wife of Abraham Northcote."
_Miriam Graham, Beloved Wife of Abraham Northcote, 1830-1856_.
Ben's father had married twice. His first wife had died thirty-two years ago. Diana chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip, wondering how old Ben was. She'd never been any good at guessing ages.
Aaron, she mused, had inherited his mother's eyes.
Had Ben?
The lantern sputtered. Before it could go out, Diana lit a second one, glad she'd had the presence of mind to plan ahead. The conclusion she'd just drawn cheered her considerably but she still had no idea how to go about leaving a clue.
* * * *
Underly's questioning went on for some time. He repeatedly claimed he was innocent of any wrongdoing. "I was sound asleep in the parlor car the night Diana fell," he insisted. "And I never had any intention of seducing Lavinia Ross."
Ben frowned. A sudden, clear memory surfaced -- Underly snoring as Ben was attempting to doze off. It must have been about the time Diana left the parlor car. Underly had an annoying, distinctive snore. The racket had continued, uninterrupted, right up until Jerusha noticed Diana in the snowbank and screamed for help.
Leaving Underly in custody -- it was still possible that he was the killer, and that Diana had fallen by accident -- Ben made his way to the Windsor Hotel. The night clerk knew him on sight and gave him no trouble about room numbers. He even provided a master key.
A few minutes later, Ben knocked politely at Lavinia Ross's door. The woman had lied about Underly being in the drawing-room car. He wanted to know why.
When he got no answer, Ben pounded on the wooden panels. There was no response from Lavinia but the noise brought Patsy, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, to the door of the adjacent room. Ben spared her only a glance before he let himself into Lavinia's room. "Empty!"
"Try Toddy's," Patsy suggested. But Lavinia was not there either. Nor was Nathan Todd.
Under overcast skies, Ben drove home at a fast clip, only to discover that Diana was also missing.
* * * *
Diana had no idea how much time passed while she waited, huddled on the landing in the crypt, trying in vain to contain her almost constant trembling. Did the moon still light the sky outside? Or was it day already? She fought tiredness, knowing that if she slept she'd have no warning at all when Lavinia returned for her.
She'd sacrificed her gown to leave a clue. Fumbling beneath the warm cloak, reluctant to remove it if she didn't have to, she'd torn at the frills of lace on her shoulders. They'd come off more easily than she'd expected. In a corner of the vault, out of easy sight of the door, she'd arranged bits of fabric on the flagstones to form Lavinia Ross's initials. As final messages went, it wasn't much, but she felt better for knowing Lavinia would not get away with her crimes.
Even though she'd been expecting it, the sudden sound of the door opening startled Diana. She scrambled awkwardly to her feet, hastily removing her cloak and bracing herself to throw it over Lavinia's head. She froze as the lantern she'd set on the floor caught the ominous glint of metal. Lavinia held an unsheathed blade in one hand and her gun in the other.
Diana risked a moment of exposure to toss the heavy fabric and rush out after it. She pushed Lavinia aside as she bolted through the door, shouting for help and praying someone would hear.
Lavinia let out an infuriated shriek. "I'll kill you!" she shouted. One corner of the cloak slipped, allowing her to wrench a hand free. She dropped the knife as she lunged at Diana but she caught hold of the back of her skirt with enough force to throw them both off balance.
As she fell, Diana rolled towards the protective shelter of the trees and away from the lantern's beams. Murky clouds filled the sky and low-lying ground fog eddied around her. There was a chance she could hide herself.
Lavinia wrenched free of the cloak. She still had possession of the gun. Lifting it, she took aim.
Diana squeezed her eyes shut.
She opened them again at the sound of a grunt. A man had tackled Lavinia. Together they writhed in a tangle of limbs on the frozen ground, now visible, now concealed by the swirling mist.
"You'll not harm her!" Diana's rescuer declared.
"Ben?" The voice was muffled and all she could see of him was dark hair and broad shoulders beneath a white shirt that reflected the lantern light ... and the gun caught between the combatants, primed and ready to fire.
Diana stumbled to her feet.
A single shot exploded, drowning out her cries for help. The man's heavier body carried the woman's to the ground and pinned it. Then both figures lay ominously still.
Feeling as if her heart had just been rent in two, Diana tried to run to them. Her legs refused to cooperate. She collapsed, tears veiling the terrible sight of a dark stain spreading across the white fabric of the shirt.
A crashing sounded in the shrubbery. Suddenly the small clearing was filled with sound and confusion.
"Too late," Diana moaned, covering her face with her hands. He was dead. Dead trying to save her.
"Diana? Are you hurt?" Strong arms seized her, hauling her unceremoniously into an embrace.
"Ben?" His dear face was close to her own. There was no mistake. "I thought it was you -- "
He followed the direction of her gaze and froze. His breath hitched. "Aaron."
Leaving Diana's side, Ben knelt next to his brother's motionless form. As he pulled Aaron off Lavinia, the actress tried to crawl away.
Aaron. Not Ben. Still numb with shock and horror, Diana watched two men wearing badges take Lavinia into custody. She did not go without a struggle. She was still shrieking curses when they dragged her away.
Ignoring the commotion, Ben gently lifted his brother and carried him towards the carriage house. "He's alive," he said as he passed Diana. "but just barely."
Diana struggled to her feet, meaning to follow, but someone stepped in front of her, blocking the way. She blinked, at first unable to believe her eyes. The cigar clamped between his teeth bobbled as Horatio Foxe scowled at her.
"Been busy stirring up trouble again, I see."
* * * *
Less than an hour later, sitting across from Foxe in the breakfast room, Diana sipped coffee and attempted to sort out what he'd just told her. She only picked at the food on her plate, her appetite dulled by her concern for Ben and his brother.
Foxe, who had no trouble putting away a hearty breakfast, had arrived on the 5:30 AM train from the west. By that time, Ben had returned home, gone to Diana's room, and discovered she was missing. Meanwhile, Charles Underly had been released for lack of evidence.
"Where did Underly go when they set him free?" Diana asked, remembering Lavinia's plan to convince him to flee.
"He'd just turned up in the lobby of the Windsor when Dr. Northcote returned there after finding you gone. It seems Underly thought better of following advice from the very person whose accusations had made him seem guilty."
"Where was Toddy? Didn't he notice Lavinia's wanderings?"
"Gone back to Miss Fildale. Dr. Northcote rousted them out of her hotel room and called in the local constabulary. He recruited every able-bodied man he could find to search for you." Foxe dragged on his cigar and rubbed his hands in glee. "What a story! What a scandal! You'll have to write it up from your own perspective, but I was here at the end. I can add my bit."
"Why did you come?" Diana asked, sipping more coffee. It didn't seem to help. Her mind remained wrapped in fuzz and she still felt half frozen.
She glanced up in time to see Horatio Foxe turn an interesting shade of red. "Well, er ... confound it, Diana! What would I tell m'sister, eh, if anything happened to you?"
They sat in silence for a few minutes before another question occurred to Diana. "How did Ben guess I'd be in the crypt?"
"It was that young actor, Billy Sims. He told Northcote how Lavinia Ross had gone on and on about Mrs. Northcote's story of locking you in that place once before. Northcote's got good instincts. Guessed right away that Lavinia might stash you there. Then, of course, the minute we set foot on the property we heard you screaming."