Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [132]
A man who commits grotesque, uncontrollable murders is triggered into such action by a certain series of events happening in order. The pressure becomes cumulative, and he cannot bear it. Did Cahoon Dunkeld understand such a weakness in someone, and deliberately design the events that would make it explode? Could any man be so evil? Of course. There was no evil imaginable that someone would not commit. But would Dunkeld be so reckless, here in the Palace? The dangers were enormous. But then so was the prize—if it were the African railway that was at stake.
The sunlight came through a crack in the curtains and fell in a bright bar across the floor. Pitt stared at it, bewildered. How could a murder help Cahoon in that project? It looked far more likely to ruin it.
Perhaps it was not the railway that was the prize at all, but something else. Maybe it had to do with Julius Sorokine’s love for Elsa. Did Dunkeld care enough to punish Sorokine for…what? Pitt doubted they had ever acted on their feelings. And Dunkeld did not love her, of that he had no doubt at all.
Perhaps it was to free Minnie, and what happened to Julius or to Elsa was immaterial. That was easier to believe.
Then who had killed Minnie? Surely that was never part of Dunkeld’s plan. Had Julius Sorokine been a far wilder and more dangerous weapon than he had foreseen? What a vile irony!
And why the Queen’s bedroom? That must have been planned, because that was where the Limoges dish was. Had he always intended to move the body and place it in the linen cupboard, or was that improvisation? Why? Pitt’s mind was racing. If Sadie had been killed in the Queen’s bedroom, by the time she was moved to the cupboard, she would have stopped bleeding profusely. So the extra blood was to fling around so it looked as if she had been butchered there. Then it was meant from the beginning, all of it. But again, why?
And why was she naked? Minnie had been fully clothed. Was the answer that Sadie had been murdered in madness, but Minnie had been killed because in her driving curiosity she had come far too close to the truth?
Again, an obscene irony. Dunkeld had provoked a terrible murder born of madness, in order to destroy his son-in-law and free his daughter from the marriage. Then her intelligence had made her such a danger that in hideous sanity Sorokine had aped his own lunacy and killed her to protect himself. No wonder Dunkeld now looked like a man haunted by far more than grief.
How could Pitt prove that? How much did it matter? If Sorokine were guilty of the murders, then he had to be put into an imprisonment of some sort. That was just. Dunkeld was a man even more evil, in that he had deliberately hired a prostitute with the intention of provoking Sorokine into murdering her, but his plan had exploded in his face, destroying his only daughter for whose freedom the whole tragedy was devised. Surely to live the rest of his life knowing that it was he who had caused her death was a more exquisite punishment than the law could ever devise?
And what would happen to Elsa? She would eventually either sink into madness, clinging to the delusion that Sorokine had been innocent. Or she would eventually realize he was guilty: a divided man, half of him charming, cultured, someone she could love; the other devoid not only of sanity but of the basic elements of compassion and decency that make one human.
Pitt could not imagine that Dunkeld would afford her any kindness. Her punishment for falling in love with someone else, the man who had also failed to love Minnie, would be continuous cruelty. He would exercise it both privately and publicly.
Pitt needed to prove all of it. Justice required it, whether the Prince of Wales liked it or not and, in turn, punished Pitt.
He must have drifted to sleep because he awoke with a jolt to hear a knock on the door. He sat up slowly, struggling to remember where he was, fully clothed on the big bed. The feeling of claustrophobia was tight in his chest,