Chapter Eight #2
“Can you tell me anything else about him?” Logan said.
Amity shook her head. “I’m afraid not. The one time he spoke, he sounded exactly as you would expect a cab driver to sound. Working-class. A bit rough around the edges. But he was certainly skilled with the reins. And he made no move to catch me when I escaped.”
Logan wrote something down in his notebook and looked up again. “What did the killer say to you?”
Amity glanced at Benedict and then turned back to Logan. She took a breath. “He informed me that he had chosen me because I had deliberately compromised myself with Mr. Stanbridge. He seemed to believe that I had set a trap for Mr. Stanbridge.”
Logan glanced at Benedict, who gave him a cool smile.
“Evidently the killer was not aware that Miss Doncaster and I are engaged to be married,” Benedict said.
“I see.” Logan made another note and looked at Amity. “I must ask you if the killer made any reference to photography.”
“Why, yes,” Amity said. “I was just about to mention that. He said he intended to take my bridal portrait. How did you know?”
“I asked because there is one significant detail that we have not divulged to the press,” Logan said. He lowered his notebook. “Each victim was found in a different alley. Each one had her throat cut by an extremely sharp blade. The wounds appeared almost surgical in nature.”
“A scalpel,” Amity said suddenly. “He held a scalpel to my throat.”
“Did he?” Logan jotted down another note. “That is very interesting. To continue, the victims were all dressed in the clothes in which they had last been seen. And each was wearing a gold wedding ring.”
“That much has appeared in the press,” Penny said. “The wedding rings are the reason the papers labeled the killer the Bridegroom.”
“Yes,” Logan said. “But what we have managed to keep out of the papers is the fact that in addition to the rings, the women were all wearing lockets. Inside each locket there was a small bridal portrait of the victim. The photographs are clearly the work of a professional photographer.”
Amity frowned. “But none of the women had ever been married.”
“No,” Logan agreed.
“Dear heaven,” Penny whispered. “The man is quite mad.”
A chill swept through Amity. “Were the photographs taken before or after the women were murdered?”
Benedict straightened away from the wall and went to stand at the window. “A number of professional photographers make their livings taking pictures of the deceased.”
Amity shuddered. “The practice has always struck me as quite macabre.”
“It strikes me that way, as well,” Penny said.
“The Bridegroom’s victims were all alive when they were photographed,” Logan said. “Their throats had not yet been cut.”
“Why have you kept the business of the lockets a secret from the press?” Penny asked.
“Believe it or not, we at the Yard have discovered that there are some demented souls who will actually come forward to claim responsibility for crimes that have received a great deal of public attention,” Logan explained.
Benedict turned around. “In other words, you use the detail of the lockets to separate the wheat from the chaff. Only the real killer will know about the photographs.”
“Yes,” Logan said.
Penny put down her teacup. “Something has just occurred to me. It probably amounts to nothing—”
“Go on, Mrs. Marsden,” Logan said.
“The rumors of what everyone, including the killer, assumed to be an illicit liaison between my sister and Mr. Stanbridge started to circulate following the Channing ball. If the killer does, indeed, move in Polite Society as Amity believes, perhaps he was actually present at the ball. That would certainly explain how he came to hear of the gossip.”
Logan looked impressed. “That is a very intriguing observation, Mrs. Marsden.”
Amity turned toward Penny. “It’s positively brilliant.”
“Thank you,” Penny said. “But I don’t see how the observation can be of much use.”
“It gives me a starting point,” Logan said. “I told my superior that I suspected that the killer moved in elevated circles because his victims all came from that world. But he was reluctant to accept the notion.”
“Probably because he knew such a theory would be extremely difficult to investigate,” Benedict said.
He and Logan exchanged glances. Men and their silent methods of communicating, Amity thought. It could be quite annoying. But she had to admit that women were equally inclined to nonverbal exchanges that were probably incomprehensible to the male of the species.
It was a great pity that the two sexes could not communicate so well with each other, she thought.
Logan’s expression was grim. “I see you comprehend my predicament, Mr. Stanbridge.”
“Of course, Inspector,” Benedict said. “You are looking for a killer who moves in wealthy circles, the one strata of Society where it is virtually impossible for a policeman of any rank to go uninvited.”
“If I start to ask questions about a well-bred killer who is given to a particularly perverse form of murder, all doors will be closed to me,” Logan said.
There was a short silence.
“They will open for me,” Benedict said quietly.
Logan studied him for a long moment. Amity noticed that the inspector did not hasten to shut down the notion of accepting assistance from Benedict.
The possibility of doing something—anything—to assist in the capture of the man who had tried to murder her and who had ruthlessly extinguished the lives of four other women elevated her spirits in a remarkable manner.
“Those doors will open for me, as well,” she said quickly. “I am, after all, Mr. Stanbridge’s fiancée.”
Benedict’s eyes gleamed with fleeting amusement.
Penny’s jaw tightened. She picked up her cup. “They will also open for me, Inspector. I have had quite enough of mourning.”
Logan began to look vaguely horrified. “I am grateful to Mr. Stanbridge for whatever help he can provide, but I do not wish to put either of you ladies in danger.”
“According to Mr. Stanbridge,” Penny said, “my sister may still be in danger. Do you agree, Inspector?”
Logan hesitated and then inclined his head. “It’s possible that, having been deprived of his prey, the beast may well make another attempt to seize Miss Doncaster. Assuming that he’s alive. I simply don’t know.”
“Then I insist on doing whatever I can to help in this inquiry,” Amity said.
“So do I,” Penny added.
Benedict looked at Logan. “It appears you have a team of investigators ready to help, Inspector. Will you allow us to do so?”
Logan studied the three of them for a long moment. Then he made his decision.
“Four women have died thus far,” he said.
“Now a fifth has barely escaped the same fate. I accept your offer of assistance. But the four of us will keep this to ourselves, is that understood? I am afraid that my associates at the Yard would not approve of allowing civilians to become involved in an investigation.”
“Understood,” Benedict said. “I know my fiancée can keep a secret. I have no doubt but that Mrs. Marsden can keep one, as well.”
“As it happens,” Penny said coolly, “I have had some experience in that regard.”
The comment struck Amity as odd. She glanced at Penny, but before she could ask any questions Benedict spoke.
“I will arrange to keep an eye on Miss Doncaster when she leaves the house,” he said. “But I think it best to have someone watch this residence at night.”
Amity stared at him, shocked. “Isn’t that going a little too far?”
“No,” Benedict said. “It’s not.”
Logan blew out a breath. “Mr. Stanbridge has a point. Given the Yard’s lack of progress to date, and the fact that we have not found the killer’s body, it would be a good idea to have the house watched at night. I will make arrangements for a constable to stand guard.”
“Thank you,” Penny said. “I would feel better knowing that there was a policeman nearby in the evenings. Now, then, where do we start the investigation?”
“I believe we must begin with the guest list for the Channing ball,” Logan said. “But I very much doubt that Lady Channing will give it to me.”
Penny smiled. “Obtaining the Channing guest list is no problem at all, Inspector. I can tell you exactly how to get it.”