Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [39]
The magnitude of it, the power of those mere individuals, the sheer arrogance stunned him. And it frightened him that men so childlike should have such power.
“It will not be left, sir,” he said stiffly. “It was a hideous crime. The woman’s throat was cut, her abdomen torn open, and her entrails left hanging.” He saw the Prince shudder, and he felt some satisfaction as the color drained from his skin, leaving him pasty and with a film of sweat on his brow.
Dunkeld sighed to indicate he found Pitt crude and more than a little tedious, but that he had not expected better.
“Really!” he said wearily, turning to the Prince. “I apologize, sir. Pitt is…doing his best.” Quite obviously he had been thinking that he was of an inferior social class, roughly the same as the dead woman. Only the implication was that while she had quite openly been a whore, and fun in her own way, Pitt was a prude and utterly boring.
Pitt’s temper soared. It was only the look of slight amusement on Dunkeld’s face when it was toward Pitt and averted from the Prince that held him in check from lashing back.
“Mr. Dunkeld is quite right, sir,” he said instead. “But it is an extremely delicate matter. Naturally all the gentlemen say they were in bed, but considering the manner of the evening’s entertainment, their wives cannot corroborate that.”
“Menservants?” the Prince asked with a moment of hope.
“All the gentlemen dismissed them, sir, except Mr. Dunkeld.”
“Oh. Yes, I forgot. Well, there must be something you can do! What do you usually do in cases like this?”
“Ask questions, look at facts, at evidence,” Pitt replied. “But not all murder cases are solved, especially where women of the street are concerned.” He clearly wanted to add “and their customers,” but knew he would never be forgiven for it. It was not worth the few moments’ satisfaction; worse, it would be highly unprofessional. He must rescue himself now, before anyone else spoke. “But people who are lying usually trip themselves up, sooner or later,” he went on a little too quickly. “Crimes like this do not happen without some event first that stirs the murderer beyond his ability to control his obsession.”
“And you’ll look for that?” the Prince said dubiously.
Pitt felt the color hot in his face. Put like that it sounded completely ineffectual. He forced himself to remember the number of cases he had solved that had at one time or another appeared impossible. “And other things, sir.” He forced himself to smile, and it felt like a baring of his teeth. “But I should be grateful for any assistance you could offer, any insight. I appreciate that speed is of the greatest importance, as well as discretion.”
Two spots of dark, angry color appeared on Dunkeld’s sunburned cheeks, but even he dared not contradict Pitt now. The air was electric in the room. One could believe that, beyond the tall windows, a summer storm was about to break.
“Yes,” the Prince agreed unhappily. “Quite. Of course, any help at all. What is it you wish to know?” He did not look to Dunkeld, but Pitt had the impression that he was preventing himself from doing so only with a conscious effort.
Pitt knew he might never have this chance again. “Were there any disagreements at all, either between the guests, or between guests and the women? Candor would be of the greatest service, sir.”
The Prince seemed quite relieved to answer. “Sorokine was in a poor temper,” he replied. “He wasn’t rude, of course, just discourteous in his unwillingness to join in. He seemed preoccupied.”
Pitt forbore from suggesting that possibly he did not enjoy such entertainment and was unable to disguise the fact.
As if reading his thoughts, Dunkeld interrupted. “Before you imagine any finer feelings on his part, Inspector, Sorokine is a man of the world, and quite capable of enjoying himself like a gentleman. I believe he had had some altercation with his wife,