Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [84]
Pitt began to be afraid. “What has happened, Mr. Dunkeld?” he demanded.
Slowly Cahoon raised his head again and stared at him. “During the night I thought about what she’d said. I was awake. I’ve no idea what time it was. I went over and over it, and I began to wonder if she knew something. She told me quite openly that she had been asking a lot of questions of the servants, and discovered what she wanted to know. I…I didn’t believe her.” He seemed desperate that Pitt should understand him. “I thought she was showing off.”
“What has happened, Mr. Dunkeld?” Pitt said more urgently, leaning forward a little. The man in front of him was obviously laboring on the borders of hysteria. He was an adventurer, an explorer used to commanding other men. When the body in the linen cupboard had been found it was he who had taken charge, deciding what to do, supporting and comforting the Prince of Wales. Whatever it was that had driven him to this point must have shaken him to the core. Had he discovered that the murderer was close to him, in his own family? Then it must be Julius Sorokine. Minnie, as his wife, knowing his nature, even his intimate tastes and habits, had suspected him. Pitt had always found it hard to believe that a woman of any intelligence at all—and honesty—could be married to such a man, and have not even a shadow of doubt, of fear.
The tears were running silently down Cahoon’s cheeks.
Pitt touched his shoulder gently. He did not like the man—he could not afford to forget the threats he had made, or his pleasure in the power to do so—but at this moment he was aware only of pity for him.
“I became afraid for her,” Cahoon said, his voice half choked. He rubbed his hand over his face again, spreading a fine smear of blood across it from the cut on his knuckle. His cheeks were swollen. “I…I went to warn her. I wanted her to be careful. I don’t know what I thought she would do!” He stopped abruptly.
“Did you warn her?” Pitt demanded. “Did she tell you what she knew? You can’t protect him, whoever he is! Don’t you…?” Pitt’s words died on his lips. Cahoon’s eyes held such horror it froze him. “What happened?” he shouted.
“I found her,” Cahoon whispered. “She was lying on her bedroom floor, her throat cut, her…” He shuddered violently. “Her gown was ripped and her…her stomach torn open and bleeding. Just like…oh God! Just like the whore in the cupboard. I was too late!”
There was nothing to say. Pity was so inadequate a response that even to attempt it was an insult. Pitt was drenched with guilt. If he had done his job sooner, more intelligently, more accurately, this would not have happened! Minnie Sorokine would still be alive. He expected Cahoon to tell him that, even to lash out at him physically from his own pain. The blows to his body could scarcely hurt more than the self-condemnation in his mind. Minnie had been so burningly alive, and Gracie had followed her around, asking the servants about the broken china, and the buckets of water. From the answers she had deduced what had happened—and Pitt was still fumbling without an idea in his head! He was stupid, criminally incompetent. He could see no end to the darkness of his guilt.
Cahoon was talking again. “I went to tell Julius…her husband. It seemed the natural thing to do.”
“Yes?” Pitt could only imagine the man’s grief.
Cahoon was staring at him. “I found him in his bedroom. He was up, half dressed, even so early. He just stared at me.” Cahoon began to tremble. “His eyes were wild, like a lunatic’s, and there was blood on his hands and face, scratches, tears in his skin. I…I knew in that moment that it was he who had done that to her. I couldn’t bear it. I…I lost all control and I beat him…God knows why I didn’t kill him. I only came to my senses when he was lying on the floor and I realized I was beating an unconscious