Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [20]
He looked surprised that she could be so blunt about it. She wondered if he had been afraid she did not know what manner of women they were.
“You have been questioning the servants all day, to find out who is responsible,” she added. “I hope you have been successful. The reason we are His Royal Highness’s guests concerns a matter of the greatest possible importance. It would be far better if the gentlemen were all free to continue with their business without further distress.” She chose the words to be as tactful as possible, leaving open the suggestion that there was pity for the dead woman as well as inconvenience involved. She could not tell from his face if he understood that. There was a flash of humor in his eyes that could have meant anything. It disconcerted her because she could not read him as swiftly as she had imagined she would.
He looked at her steadily, a very slight frown between his brows. “The prostitute that the Prince had chosen for himself was found in the linen cupboard this morning,” he told her. “I’m afraid she was completely unclothed, and she had been slashed to death with a knife.”
Elsa was stunned. For a moment she found it hard to breathe. Cahoon had mentioned a carving knife, but she had thought he was being deliberately brutal. From this quiet man with his bulging pockets and his steady eyes, quite suddenly the woman’s death had a reality that was shocking. She started to speak, and then had no idea what she wanted to say.
“We have questioned all the servants,” Pitt continued, “and found that none of them could be responsible.”
For a moment she did not understand. “You mean someone broke in?” she said incredulously. “But we are in the Palace! That could not happen. Or are you saying it was one of the guards? I find that hard to believe. Are you certain?”
“No one broke in, Mrs. Dunkeld. The guards can account for one another. This is the sort of crime that a man commits alone.”
“You mean it was…?” She did not wish to use the words necessary to explain herself. Why had she supposed the murder had been committed merely out of anger? Given the occupation of the woman, it could be assumed that she had earned her fee. “Poor creature,” she added, imagining what it must have been like. Involuntarily her mind flew to occasions of intimacy with Cahoon when she had been aware of her own helplessness, and frightened of him, even physically hurt. He had taken pleasure in her pain, she was sure of that now. It had excited him.
“I’m sorry.” The policeman was apologizing to her. Had her face been so transparent? She felt the heat rise up on it. Please heaven this man mistook it for modesty. She was allowing him to unnerve her. Cahoon would find that contemptible.
“I am quite capable of facing facts, Mr. Pitt,” she said sharply. “Even if they are unpleasant. I have not lived my entire life in the withdrawing room.”
If he understood her, there was no reflection of it in his expression, except perhaps a flash of pity. “No one broke in, Mrs. Dunkeld. I am afraid that leaves no possibility other than that it was one of the guests.”
She had thought herself already stunned. This was beyond belief. “You mean one of us?” Her voice was high-pitched; she refused to accept the thought. “That’s absurd!” Even as the words spilled out, she knew it was not absurd. All kinds of people have passions that lie beneath the disciplined surface, until some fear or hunger makes them momentarily ungovernable. Usually it is violent words that break through, or something beautiful or precious is smashed to pieces in rage. What prevents it from being a human being? The conventions of society and the fear of punishment. All human life must be regarded as sacred, or one’s own may be endangered as well. But do women who sell their bodies for others to use count as human life in the same way? If they did, could one buy them in the first place?
He was watching her.
“I have no knowledge that could be helpful, Mr. Pitt,” she said as steadily as she could. “As you must already know,