Buckingham Palace Gardens - Anne Perry [85]
Pitt imagined it. They were both big men, physically powerful. Julius was younger, but taken by surprise he could have lost the advantage. Nevertheless, Pitt understood now what the torn knuckles and the bruises still swelling and darkening on Cahoon’s face meant. It had been a hard fight, even assuming it was brief.
“Where’s Sorokine now?” he asked softly. He felt no blame for Cahoon. If it had been Pitt’s own daughter, Jemima, he would have torn the man apart.
“Still senseless on the floor, I imagine. But I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” Cahoon smiled bitterly, and winced at the pain in his jaw. He put his hand up tentatively. “I think he loosened a tooth.”
“Go back to your own room, Mr. Dunkeld,” Pitt told him. “I’ll go with you. You had better awaken your wife and I’m afraid you will have to tell her what has happened. Shall I send for her maid? Get tea, or brandy? Would you like one of the other women to be with her? Mrs. Marquand, or Mrs. Quase? To whom was she closer?”
Cahoon stared at him. “What?” His eyes seemed unfocused.
“Someone must inform Mrs. Dunkeld,” Pitt said again. “If you don’t feel well enough, then somebody else can. I will, if you wish, but I am sure in those circumstances, Mrs. Dunkeld would prefer to be up and dressed.”
“She was not Minnie’s mother,” Cahoon said flatly. “Call who you want. What about Sorokine?”
“I’ll call Mrs. Quase to be with your wife, then I’ll go and see Mr. Sorokine. Go back to your own room. Would you like someone to be with you?”
“No. No, I’d rather be alone.” Cahoon rose to his feet very slowly, swaying a little, and Pitt cursed the fact that he had no sergeant with him to whom he could delegate other tasks.
He walked along the silent corridor beside Cahoon as far as his own bedroom, and left him there. Then he retraced his steps quickly to Hamilton Quase’s room and knocked abruptly on the door.
There was no answer. Perhaps he had drunk too much the night before to come to his senses easily. Pitt had no recourse but to go directly to Mrs. Quase. It was not something he wished to do.
She answered after only a few moments. She was wrapped in a silk robe and her glorious hair was loose around her shoulders.
“Yes?” she said anxiously.
“Mrs. Quase, I am sorry to disturb you. I tried to waken Mr. Quase, but—”
“What is it?” she cut across him. “Tell me.”
“I am afraid Mrs. Sorokine is dead. Mr. Dunkeld is profoundly disturbed, too much so to inform Mrs. Dunkeld, or to be with her. I must see Mr. Sorokine, and it may take me some time. I regret having to ask, but will you please tell Mrs. Dunkeld, and be with her?”
All the blood left her face, her hand flew to her mouth. “You…you mean Minnie…was killed?”
“Yes. I’m afraid so.” As soon as he had said it he realized he should not have done so when she was standing. She swayed and grasped hold of the handle of the door, leaning against it, trying to support herself.
“Have I asked too much of you?” he said apologetically. “Should I call Mrs. Marquand?”
“No! No,” she protested. “I shall go to Elsa immediately. But that’s foolish. I’ll call my maid to bring tea for both of us. Then I’ll go. I shall be perfectly all right. How absolutely dreadful. One of us is raving mad. This is worse than any nightmare.”
He apologized again, thanked her, and went to Julius Sorokine’s room. He wondered for a moment if he should at least look at the body first, then realized that the rooms would connect, and if Julius were returning to his senses, there was no way of preventing him from changing such evidence as there was, or even further desecrating the body. Pitt needed help, but there was no one he could trust, or who had seen death with such violence and tragedy before.
He did not knock, but opened the door and went straight inside.
The scene that met his eyes was exactly what he expected from Dunkeld’s description. A slender bedroom chair was splintered and lying sideways