Jayne Krentz - Don’t Look Back

“Let me out of here,” Lavinia shouted through the wood.

“Got any notion of what happened to the key?” he called back.

“No.”

Anthony crashed through a row of vases and stopped in front of the door. “Locked?”

“Of course.” Tobias reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and took out the selection of picks he always carried whenever he was pursuing a case. “She wouldn’t be trapped inside if it were unlocked, would she?”

Anthony raised his brows at the brusque words, but he kept his own tone even, almost mild. “Wonder how she came to be inside in the first place?”

“An excellent question.” Tobias went to work with one of the picks. The iron lock was imposing in size, but it was old-fashioned and uncomplicated in design. He prodded the tumblers very gently. “One I intend to ask at the earliest opportunity.”

The lock gave a moment later. The heavy door opened with a rusty groan that could have come from the depths of a tomb.

“Tobias.”

Lavinia exploded out of the darkness. He scooped her up into his arms and cradled her close and tight against his chest. She pressed her face into the fabric of his greatcoat. He felt her shudder in his arms.

“Are you all right? Lavinia, answer me. Are you all right?”

“Yes.” The word was muffled against his coat. “I knew you’d come. I knew it.”

Anthony gazed into the small chamber with a grim expression. “It must have been quite dreadful for you in there, Mrs. Lake.”

Lavinia said nothing. Tobias felt shiver after shiver sweep through her. He stroked the length of her spine with his palm and looked past her into the tiny room. It reminded him of an upright coffin. Anger knifed through him.

“What happened?” he asked. “Who imprisoned you in that place?”

“Someone was here when I arrived. Searching the rooms upstairs. I hid in there when he came down the steps. He saw me. Locked the door.” She suddenly stiffened, gasped, and pushed herself slightly away from him. “Dear God, Mr. Tredlow.”

“What about him?”

Clutching his shoulders, she turned partway around in his arms, searching the gloom with anxious eyes. “I found bloodstains on the floor over there. I think the intruder murdered him and hid the body in one of the sarcophagi. Poor Mr. Tredlow. And it is all my fault, Tobias. I should never have asked him to assist in the investigation. I cannot bear to contemplate-”

“Hush.” He eased her slowly to her feet. “Let us see precisely what we are dealing with here before we concern ourselves with responsibility and recriminations.” He picked up the lantern. “Show me the bloodstains.”

She walked to the figure of Perseus holding the Medusa head and pointed toward the floor. “There. See? They lead straight to that coffin.”

Tobias assessed the carved stone sarcophagus. “Fortunately, it is not one of the more ornate types decorated with a heavy stone carving. We should have no trouble with the lid. Clearly, whoever stuck Tredlow inside managed to move it easily enough.”

“I’ll help you,” Anthony said.

Together they leaned into the task. The heavy stone shifted readily enough under their combined weight. One man could, indeed, have managed the business, assuming that the lid had originally been sitting crosswise atop the box, Tobias thought.

Stone scraped on stone, a grinding protest that set his teeth on edge. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lavinia flinch at the sound. But she did not retreat from whatever was about to be revealed. He had not expected that she would. In the entire time he had known her, he had never seen her back away from anything, no matter how unpleasant. Some would say that she lacked the sort of delicate sensibilities Society deemed appropriate to a lady. But he knew the truth. She was a lot like him when it came to dealing with problems and challenges. She faced them head-on.

The stone lid shrieked hollowly again and finally moved far enough across the top of the box to reveal a section of the dark interior.

The body of a man loomed in the opening. He lay facedown, crumpled in a horrifyingly careless manner. It looked as though someone had simply dumped him into the sarcophagus.

The lantern light flared on scraggly gray hair matted with blood. There was more blood on Tredlow’s coat. A small pool of the stuff had formed on the bottom of the coffin.

Tobias reached into the box to search for a pulse.

“Poor Mr. Tredlow.” Lavinia stepped closer. “Dear heaven. It is just as I feared. The intruder murdered him. And all because I asked him to keep me informed.”

Anthony watched Tobias feel for signs of life. He swallowed heavily. “Must have struck him on the back of his head and stuck him in here to hide the body.”

“The killer obviously wanted to conceal the crime, and he almost succeeded,” Lavinia whispered. “It could have been weeks or even months before the body was found. Indeed, if I hadn’t received Mr.

Tredlow’s message this afternoon, I would never have thought to look for him back here in this storeroom. If only I had arrived earlier, I might have-”

“Enough.” Tobias took his fingers off the victim’s throat. “For better or worse, you did receive the message.” He gripped the edge of the sarcophagus lid again and shoved hard to angle it farther out of the way. “From Tredlow’s point of view, it is just as well that you got here when you did.”

“Why do you say that?” Anthony asked.

“Because he is still alive.”

Tobias strode into the parlor later that evening, bringing with him the essence of the fog and the night. He came to a halt at the foot of the sofa and surveyed Lavinia with an assessing expression.

She lay propped against a stack of fringed pillows, covered from head to toe by the pile of warm blankets that Emeline had arranged. The large pot of very hot, very strong tea that Mrs. Chilton had brewed sat on the table beside her.

She gave Tobias a wan smile.

He turned directly to Emeline.

“How is she?” he asked.

Emeline looked up from the cup of tea she had just poured. “Somewhat better, I think. Her nerves are still quite overwrought, of course. Lavinia has great difficulty with small, enclosed spaces, you know. They make her very anxious. And she was in that dreadful little room for a long while.”

“Yes, I know.” Tobias shifted his attention back to Lavinia. “But she will soon return to normal, will she not?”

“Oh, yes,” Emeline assured him. “What she needs now is peace and rest. She is certainly in no condition to withstand any more sharp shocks at the moment.”

“How is Mr. Tredlow?” Lavinia asked softly.

“Whitby is looking after him,” Tobias said. “He’ll stay with him tonight. Says that Tredlow will no doubt recover, but he warned me that blows to the head are unpredictable. Tredlow may not remember anything of what occurred in the moments prior to his encounter with the intruder.”

“I see.” Lavinia closed her eyes. “In other words, we may learn nothing useful from him when we do manage to interview him.”

“We can only hope that he will at least recall why he sent the message to you,” Tobias said.

“Yes.” She lifted her lashes very slowly. “Well, we must worry about that tomorrow. There is nothing more we can do tonight. I cannot thank you enough for rescuing me from that horrid chamber.”

“Are you certain that you’re all right, Lavinia?” he asked.

“Yes.” She closed her eyes again and reclined weakly against the stack of pillows. “But I must admit I am more weary and shaken than I had first realized. Perhaps I shall ask Mrs. Chilton to prepare a vinaigrette.”

“I shall call at breakfast to see how you are getting along,” Tobias said.

She nodded without opening her eyes.

He hesitated a moment longer at the foot of the sofa. She sensed him looming there and knew that he was reluctant to take his leave.

“See to it that she gets a good night’s sleep,” he said to Emeline.

“I will,” Emeline promised.

“Very well.” He still lingered at the foot of the sofa. “I will bid you both good night.”

“Good night, sir,” Emeline said.

“Good night,” Lavinia whispered, eyes still closed.

She heard him turn and walk away toward the parlor door. He stepped out into the hall and spoke to Mrs. Chilton in low, muffled tones. The front door opened and closed.

Lavinia breathed a sigh of relief. She snapped open her eyes, shoved aside the heavy blankets, sat up, and swung her feet to the floor.

“Really, I had begun to fear that he would never leave,” she said. “Where’s that sherry I was drinking before he arrived?”

“I’ve got it right here.”

Emeline went to the mantel and raised the top of the decorative urn that stood on the far end. She reached inside and removed the glass of sherry Lavinia had ordered her to conceal moments ago when she had spotted Tobias coming up the steps.

“Thank you.” Lavinia took the glass and swallowed a goodly portion of the contents. She waited for the warmth of the spirits to hit her and then she exhaled deeply. “I think I handled that rather well, don’t you?”

“Your acting was nothing short of professional,” Emeline said.

“Yes, I thought so. I must say, I am quite grateful to Mr. March. He is excellent in a crisis, and I was exceedingly happy to see him earlier when he opened the door of that dreadful little chamber.”

Emeline shuddered. “I do not doubt that.”

“Unfortunately he cannot resist the urge to deliver exceedingly tiresome lectures after the dramatic moment has passed.” Lavinia made a face. “I knew when I saw him coming up the steps that he had come back to see if I was in any condition to listen to one.”