Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [15]
Elsa disliked the use of the word whore. It sounded so pitiless, particularly when her husband was being brutally frank. She had despised the women when they were alive, but now that one of them had been murdered she felt differently. It was uncomfortable, even disconcerting, but for the sake of her own humanity, she told herself that she needed to observe their common bond more than their differences.
Cahoon went into the dining room ahead, leaving her to follow, with Olga beside her. The Prince of Wales was obviously not joining them, so there was little formality observed. They each took the places at which they had sat the previous day, the women assisted by servants.
This room also was magnificent, but too heavy in style for Elsa’s taste. She felt dwarfed by the huge paintings with their frames so broad as to seem almost a feature of the architecture. The ceiling stretched like the canopy of some elaborate tent, with the optical illusion of being arched. It was beautiful, and yet she was not comfortable in it. Certainly she did not wish to eat.
The soup was served in uncomfortable silence before Hamilton Quase joined them, taking the one empty chair without comment. He was tall and slender, and in his late forties. He had been handsome in his youth, but his fair hair had lost its thickness. His face was burned by the sun and marred by an absentminded sadness, as if he had forgotten its exact cause, or possibly chosen to forget it.
Liliane looked at him anxiously. The footman offered him soup but he declined, saying he would wait for the fish. He did accept the white wine, and drank from the glass immediately.
“You’d expect a place like Buckingham Palace to be safe, wouldn’t you!” he said challengingly. “How the devil can a lunatic break in here? Can anyone walk in and out as they please?”
“Nobody walked in,” Cahoon told him. “Or out.”
Hamilton set his glass down so violently the wine slopped over. “God! You mean he’s still here?”
“Of course he’s still here!” Cahoon snapped. “He was always here!”
Hamilton stared at him, the color draining from his face.
“You’re frightening the women,” Julius said critically to Cahoon. He glanced around the table. “Nobody broke in, and nobody will. One of the servants completely lost control of himself and must have hit her, or strangled her, or whatever it was. It’s a tragedy, but it’s none of our business. And there is certainly nothing for us to be afraid of. The police will deal with it.”
Hamilton raised his glass in a salute to Julius, and drank again.
Liliane relaxed a little and picked up her fork.
“Knifed her,” Cahoon filled in as the butler placed the fish in front of him. “Cut her throat and…and her body. I’m afraid this is going to be unpleasant.”
“How do you know?” Simnel asked with more curiosity than alarm. He glanced at Minnie, and then back at Cahoon.
“I found her,” Cahoon said simply.
Elsa was startled. The wineglass slipped in her fingers and she only just caught it before it spilled. “I thought she was in a linen cupboard!”
“What on earth were you doing in a linen cupboard so early in the morning?” Julius asked with a very slight smile. “Or at any time, for that matter.”
“The door was open,” Cahoon told him tartly. “I smelled it.”
Liliane wrinkled her nose. “If we must have this discussion at all, could we at least put it off until after we have finished dining, Cahoon? I’m sure we are grateful that you seem to be taking charge of things, but your zeal has temporarily overtaken your good taste. I would prefer to have my fish without the details.”
“I’m afraid we are not going to escape all of the unpleasantness,” Cahoon said drily. “The servants are bound to be useless for a while. Some of them may even leave.”
“One of them needs to,” Julius pointed out.
Elsa wanted to laugh, but she knew it was out of fear rather than amusement, and wildly inappropriate. She choked it back, pretending to have swallowed badly. No one took