Devil's Own (14 page)

Gus and Niall exchanged amused glances, both trying to keep a straight face but failing in the attempt. Without a word, though, they began their long underground trek back to the mansion, carefully avoiding the dead body on the floor.

“W
HEN
WE
explored the passageways,” Hughes explained as they came out of the tiny opening back into the sitting room, all of them able to draw a decent breath, “we found these little peepholes in the walls to pretty much all the rooms in the house. We didn’t find entrances to every room, but the holes in the walls for spying were always there.”

“I know,” Niall said, shrugging his jacket free of accumulated dust and cobwebs. “You told me this before I left last night.
And
I was down in those tunnels with you.”

Hughes let out a dry, ironic chuckle. “Yeah, but Gus didn’t know.
And
you weren’t here for the big stuff, either.”

Niall frowned, confused. “Bigger than Millicent Marsden being dead?”

“Well… no. But close.” Hughes walked out of the room into the hallway and headed for a door with a uniformed officer standing beside it. By the door, Hughes stopped and gave both Gus and Niall pointed looks, a silent warning. He lowered his tone to a near whisper. “Through the peepholes we saw Nola packing her bag in a hurry. I’m guessing she was trying to make a quick getaway.”

Niall muttered something inaudible. “Maybe she does have something to hide after all, or maybe she’s just scared. Either way, doesn’t really top Millicent’s murder.”

Hughes grinned. “No, it doesn’t. How about finding Henrietta and Oswald in flagrante in bed together, without a stitch on?”

Niall wasn’t the only one who stared at Hughes dumbfounded. Gus opened and closed his mouth, his memory serving him slowly due to all these new exposures. “Wait, um…. Didn’t you tell me Henrietta and Oswald are both Millicent’s children?” He directed his words to Niall, who was blinking hard, absorbing what he had heard. “That would make them… brother and sister.”

“Yup.” Hughes grinned at Gus’s reasoning. “Siblings. Having sex. And apparently they’ve been at it for years. Incest.” When Niall opened his mouth to speak, Hughes silenced him with his hand up between them. “Don’t worry. I’ve got the lovebirds waiting in separate rooms. Them and Nola too. All just waiting for us.”

Niall made an odd choked sound, his jaw hanging open. “Huh. Well…. Holy shit.”

Hughes laughed then, a deep rumbling sound obviously not meant for anyone but the three of them. “Yeah. Only if memory serves, I used stronger profanities.”

Gus suppressed a smile at the remark. Niall chuckled once. “Okay, so who do we take on first?”

Hughes bobbed his head toward the door. “Oswald’s in here. Since he was Millicent’s firstborn and heir, I think we should talk to him first.”

“Sounds good to me,” Niall agreed. “Lead on, Virg.”

Gus waited for Hughes and Niall to go in first. Without being asked, he assumed he was allowed to attend. Smiling at the banter and familiarity between the two men, Gus was glad his boyfriend had a friend like Hughes, even though the man had been Niall’s father’s partner, not his.

Another drawing room opened before them. This one had a huge fireplace, several desks and settees, and portrait paintings on the walls. Gus studied them as he entered, finding that most of them depicted ancestors of the Talbot bloodline.

One in particular caught his eye, and he gasped.

Since Niall and Hughes hadn’t yet started to question Oswald, the tall, lanky man who had sprung up from the couch like a jack-in-the-box as they entered, they both turned to Gus. “What is it?” Niall asked, more suspicious than worried.

“Who is that?” Gus asked, pointing at the picture above one of the writing desks.

The portrait showed a tall young woman with long burgundy hair and deep dark eyes that seemed to open up into her very soul. Her tight black dress showed her slender form, but none of that mattered since Gus only saw the same formidable air of fortitude emanating from her as it did now that she was older.

Oswald came to stand at Gus’s side with a perplexed frown marring his face. “That’s Patience Lansdowne, Goddard’s first wife. She went missing many years ago, forcing Goddard to divorce her in absentia.”

“Mr. Marsden, would you please return to the couch?” Hughes directed, his voice cool and professional, short-circuiting any and all arguments. Jittery, Oswald did as he was told.

“What is it?” Niall repeated, glancing between Gus and the painting.

“I know her,” Gus whispered, too confused himself to know what the hell was going on. “I spoke to her yesterday.”

“You—what?” Hughes asked, all fire and brimstone.

Gus locked gazes with Niall, who looked worried but was controlling it. “That’s the woman Autumnsong introduced me to. That’s the gallery owner, Tia Delaney!”

“M
R
. M
ARSDEN
,”
Hughes said as he stood close to where Oswald had parked himself on the couch. A frantic few moments of police activity had followed Gus’s declaration, but now Hughes was ready to interrogate Oswald. “How long have you and your sister, Henrietta Devin, been… involved?”

Oswald, the gray, all but inconspicuous, man sighed in resignation. “Since we were young, only teenagers.” He lifted his gaze, somewhat defiant. “But never when she was married to Dwight Devin. Not once. She wanted to try being married, being a devoted wife and mother. But… he was a poor husband, a pathetic excuse for a man, a gambling and cheating oaf. Henrietta wanted a child, but he never gave her that bliss. When she found out he’d had a child out of wedlock with another woman, she divorced him.” He rubbed his forehead, looking deflated and weary, staring at the floor. “When I comforted her…. We tried to fight it. But we failed.”

As Oswald fell silent, Niall studied the older man who looked beaten and worn, almost blending into the background. A part of him felt sorry for the man, even though he knew what he and his sister had done was illegal, and if convicted of incest, the penalty in the state of Washington was fourteen years in prison. From the looks of things, Oswald knew this.

Unfortunately for their investigation, Niall also knew that the fact that Oswald and Henrietta were still having sex now meant that it was unlikely they’d had anything to do with Millicent’s or Titus’s deaths. After all, if they had hoped for an inheritance and the freedom to do as they wished, surely they would have chosen to wait until after the will cleared probate, knowing the police would suspect one criminal act easily leading to another: from incest to murder. Why risk their just dues for an illicit tryst so near the home stretch? Why do anything to attract unwanted attention to their already criminal activities only because of raging hormones or, perhaps, true love? No, it didn’t make any sense.

“You are aware, Mr. Marsden, that what you and your sister have been doing is a criminal offense, with prison time if convicted?” Hughes asked. Though his expression was neutral, Niall knew the man didn’t like the situation he had been put in, having to arrest two consenting adults for having sex, regardless of their blood relationship.

Oswald nodded. “Yes, sir, I know. We both know.” Clearing the hoarseness from his throat and straightening up, he asked, “May I please see her before we’re taken away? I want her to know… I will wait for her, no matter how long. I love her, you see.”

Hughes grunted, “We’ll see. Maybe we can arrange something. Now, about the night of the murder.” He left out the bit about it actually being Titus who was killed.

Oswald cocked his head, surprise written on his face. “But…. Surely you don’t think that I…?” He shook his head vehemently. “No, I didn’t kill him. I was—” He snapped his mouth shut, his throat working convulsively. Niall guessed where he had been. Finally Oswald came to the same conclusion: that he would have to speak the truth. “Henrietta and I were in bed together. All night. We were awake because—well, we were awake, that’s all. Neither of us left—”

“You didn’t go out onto the landing to see what all the commotion was?” Niall asked, knowing Nola had seen Oswald out there that night.

“Well… yes, I did peek out of my room when all that ruckus and screaming began,” Oswald admitted, frowning. “I always knew Florian was… mad may be pushing it, but it’s not far off, either. When I saw Angelina run off in her underwear, screaming, I knew Florian had crossed the line somehow. Again. I’m glad she got away from him.” He put himself back together. “Once I saw her run out and Florian laughing at the top of the stairs, I went back to my room. Henrietta was waiting for me.”

“Does she use sleeping pills?” Niall asked, remembering Nola’s statement.

“No.” Oswald smiled sadly. “That’s the cover we use. Her excuse if she, um, can’t hear a knock on her bedroom door.” That made sense, Niall concluded, and it explained Henrietta’s perceived nervous disposition, not because of a drug habit, but for keeping a damning secret.

“Did you see Titus there?” Hughes asked, his gaze piercing and borderline intrusive.

Oswald’s brow furrowed as he reminisced. “Yes, I think so…. He’s always skulking in the shadows. But I think I saw him. He was watching Ida and Ella, um, making out on the landing. I didn’t stay to watch.”

“Did you see where Florian or Titus went?” Hughes pressed.

Oswald shook his head. “No. I was too busy returning to my room to close and lock the door so no one would see Henrietta there.”

“Tell us about your activities the following morning,” Hughes prompted.

“I woke up alone rather late, after nine or ten surely.” He rubbed his forehead. “I had a headache. Henrietta was gone, as usual. I took a long hot bath, did some accounting work, and then joined the others for a late lunch. I normally don’t eat breakfast, and that morning I felt queasy. At some point Millicent inquired about Florian.”

“Was it normal for Florian to join the family for meals?” Niall asked.

Again Oswald shook his head. “No. He comes and goes as he pleases. Sometimes he ate with us, other times he was nowhere to be found.” Oswald let out a dry chuckle. “He had a habit of pulling these disappearing acts.”

Niall exchanged a knowing glance with Hughes. “What happened after that?”

“Millicent was quite insistent about it since no one had seen Florian by then. I honestly didn’t think there was anything to worry about. Florian could often sleep late into the afternoon, and some nights he didn’t go to bed at all.” He shifted on the couch, his expression and body language communicating his discomfort and distaste. “It was that… that group of his. Ridiculous and stupid. A grown man dancing buck naked around the garden in the moonlight, like a buffoon, singing about demons and dark gods, brandishing that silly knife of his, and with all those naked young people frolicking about….” Shuddering, he shook his head, with a disgusted look on his face.

“So, you weren’t a part of Florian’s coven?” Niall confirmed.

Oswald appeared mortally wounded. “Absolutely not!” He blushed then, swallowing. “Sometimes we acted along, as though we approved of what Florian was doing, but that’s all it was. A pretense. Not actual acceptance. A show to appease him. He could be such a… a cruel, vengeful, and spiteful man.”

“Henrietta felt the same?” Niall asked.

“Yes.” Then Oswald frowned, shame coloring his cheeks. “Mother—um, Millicent did accept Florian’s whims, however. Ida was all on board, and so was Ella.” It was appearing more likely the underground altar room belonged to Millicent instead of Florian. The knife suggested the same conclusion. Niall still felt apprehensive, even though he knew people could surprise you.

“Who is Ella?” Hughes asked. “In relation to the Talbot family, that is.”

Oswald scoffed halfheartedly. “Ella was Florian’s protégé, his personal project, and he mentored her spiritually and intellectually, possibly sexually too. Though I can’t be certain about that last one. Now I don’t know what will happen to her….” He seemed genuinely concerned about the young woman, which brought him up in Niall’s estimation.

“So, you all went to find Florian in his bedroom?” Hughes asked sharply, turning the conversation back on course.

Oswald nodded. “Yes. Angelina and Florian slept apart as often as they did together, and after the commotion of the previous night, we had a feeling Florian had commandeered the other bedroom. But the door was locked, so Nola couldn’t open it. She banged on it, and so did I, loudly. By then everyone was a bit concerned. Nola and Millicent insisted I break down the door, so I did. The lock was old, and it broke easily.” He swallowed hard, his skin paling. “Florian…. He was lying on the floor, shards of a shattered lamp all around him, his hair and face all bloody.” He pressed his hand over his mouth as though trying to prevent an attack of nausea.

“You saw his face?” Hughes pressed for details.

“Well… no,” Oswald replied slowly, as if going through the events. “His face was sort of turned away from me and covered in blood and gore and his hair was all mussed up. Anyway, Nola checked for a pulse. He didn’t have any. He was cold and stiff.”

“You touched him?” Hughes verified.

“Oh good God, no! He just looked so white and lifeless and stone-cold dead.” Oswald shivered, looking even sicker than before. “I admit honestly I didn’t want to go anywhere near him.”

“What can you tell us about Patience Lansdowne?” Gus asked then, surprising both Niall and Hughes. Gus hadn’t given his presence away in all this time, staying in the background. Now as he spoke, he stole Niall’s full attention, as usual. The honest curiosity that stemmed from Gus made Niall’s heart beat faster and his groin fill with unexpected heat. The confidence in Gus came from his kind openness, and in Niall’s eyes, Gus was sexier than any man boasting his good looks or his bedroom prowess.

I’m so in over my head. Head over heels, that is
.

Oswald’s eyes widened. He must not have expected the question. “Um, Patience went missing about, oh, twenty years ago at least. Long ago. She was a good woman, strong and smart. Goddard adored her.”