Jayne Krentz - Don’t Look Back

“Yes, Mrs. Rushton. I am really rather good at this sort of thing.”

She left the ugly mansion ten minutes later, intent only on her next destination. Luck was with her. There was a hackney standing quietly in the square almost directly in front of her.

She raised a hand and waved madly to get the coachman’s attention. He made no move to get down from his box to assist her up into the carriage. She was in too much of a hurry to be offended.

She opened her mouth to give the man the address at the same time she opened the door of the vehicle.

It was then that she realized the hackney was already occupied.

Maggie was inside. Her hands were bound with rope. Her eyes were huge and stark with fear above the gag that had been tied around her mouth.

She was not alone in the vehicle. Oscar Pelling sat beside her. He held a knife to her throat.

“Get in,” he said to Lavinia, “or I will kill her right here. Right now. In front of you.”

“I WATCHED YOUR HOUSE FOR HOURS, MRS.

Lake, waiting to see if you would make any move that would indicate that you might have been successful in your quest to find the bracelet. You were my last, best hope, and I thank you for confirming my faith in your deceitful and cunning ways.”

“I do not know what you are talking about,” Lavinia whispered.

“Really, you are so very typical of your sex, madam. Lying, cheating, potentially deadly Medusas, every last one of you. But knowing the nature of women as I do was what persuaded me to follow you rather than Mr. March today. It is clear he is your lover and no doubt completely under your control. Get in.”

Lavinia climbed slowly into the closed cab of the hackney and sat down on the seat across from Pelling and Maggie. Pelling gave her an approving smile. She caught a glimpse of the monster lurking just beneath the surface of his eyes and shivered.

“What made you conclude that I know the location of the Blue Medusa?” she asked warily.

“There is no other reason why you would pay another visit to the Banks mansion today, is there?” He smiled with satisfaction. “Obviously you came here to conduct business with Mrs. Rushton, and the only business that involves the two of you is the Blue Medusa. I trust that you have not yet concluded your bargain and turned over the bracelet. Because if that is the case, I no longer need you, do I?”

“You must let Maggie go,” she said quietly.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll do that.” Pelling prodded Maggie’s throat with the tip of the knife. A drop of blood appeared. “She is a cheap whore who must be punished for betraying me. Is that not right, my sweet?”

Maggie closed her eyes and whimpered behind the gag. Lavinia touched the silver pendant, in what she hoped looked like a nervous gesture. “You must let her go. You no longer need her, and killing her would be too risky.”

Pelling looked at her with blood-freezing eyes. “Do not presume to tell me what to do. I knew that you were trouble on the first occasion when we met. Probably should have got rid of you then.”

“That would have been foolish. After all, you had just lost your wife under tragic and mysterious circumstances. The murder of the mesmerist who had been treating her would have been a bit much for the local authorities, don’t you think? They might have started asking embarrassing and exceedingly awkward questions.”

“Bah. The authorities did not worry me in the least. The reason I did not punish you then was because you were not worth the time and trouble. You had, in point of fact, done me a favor. You contrived to rid me of an increasingly troublesome wife, and I was left with her inheritance. Under the circumstances, it would have been churlish to kill you.”

“Churlish.” Lavinia swallowed. “Yes. Quite. But now there is the problem of Maggie.”

“Maggie is no problem, as you can see.” Pelling tapped the knife against the woman’s shoulder. “I shall slit her throat when it suits me. Until then, she will remain quiet and obedient. Isn’t that right, Maggie?”

Tears leaked from Maggie’s eyes.

“I’m afraid it will not be as simple as that,” Lavinia said. “You see, as long as Maggie is sitting there with a knife at her throat, I will not tell you the location of the Medusa bracelet. And the bracelet is what you are after, is it not?”

“You will tell me,” Pelling said. “Or you will first watch Maggie die very slowly. If you manage to resist the urge to tell me where the bracelet is during that process, I’m sure you will talk when it is your turn.”

“The risk of killing both of us is too great.” Lavinia toyed with the silver pendant, twisting it so that it caught the light that seeped in around the edges of the window curtain. “Much too great. Better to let Maggie go. She cannot hurt you. You are too strong and too powerful to worry about a prostitute who drinks too much gin. No one pays any attention to women like Maggie.”

“Stop it.” Pelling took the point of the knife away from Maggie’s throat and jabbed it at Lavinia. “Stop it right now.”

She flinched and flattened her back against the cushions. But there was little room to maneuver in the close confines of the carriage. Pelling could easily gut her like a fish before she could reach the door if he took a notion to do so.

Maggie opened her eyes and looked at her with an expression of resignation and dread.

“I know what you are trying to do,” Pelling said to Lavinia. “You are trying to put me in a mesmeric trance. But it will not work. My mind is too strong.”

“Yes, you are strong,” she whispered. “Much too strong.”

Pelling was amused. “It’s true. Celeste and Hudson both tried their skills on me. Both failed. If they could not entrance me, you have no chance of doing so, do you?”

“No.” Lavinia watched him steadily and fiddled with the silver at her throat. “My skills are poor, indeed, compared to theirs. And you are too strong. So very, very strong. But the night is coming on. Soon it will be dark. It will be difficult to keep track of two prisoners in the dark. Better to let Maggie go. She can do you no harm.”

Pelling said nothing.

“You are too strong. You do not need her. She is a nuisance. Better to toss her out onto the street. She can do you no harm. You are too strong.”

He was not in a deep trance, Lavinia realized. But there was an odd calm about him now, as if he had come to some conclusion and had formed a plan. She could only pray that he had not decided to slit Maggie’s throat immediately and be done with the matter. The expression in Maggie’s eyes told her that she feared that was precisely what was about to happen.

Without any warning, Pelling reached up and rapped on the roof of the vehicle with the hilt of the knife.

The hackney clattered to a halt.

Pelling opened the door.

Lavinia looked out and saw a portion of a fogbound street. For an instant she feared the worst, that Pelling had chosen an isolated location where he could dump a dead body without fear of being seen.

But the rumble of cart wheels nearby reassured her. A moment later, a farmer’s wagon rattled past and came to a halt in front of a door.

“I don’t need you any longer,” Pelling said to Maggie. He raised the knife.

Maggie cringed and whimpered behind the gag.

Lavinia’s breath stopped in her throat. Her hands felt as though they had been plunged into ice. But she managed to keep her voice low and steady.

“Too strong,” she said in soft, low, soothing tones. “You are too strong. There is no need to kill her. Too strong. No need to take the risk. Better not to risk killing her. You are too strong. No need to take the risk.”

Pelling moved the knife again and sliced through the gag. With the practiced ease of a man who has cleaned his own fish and game, he slashed the knife downward a second time, cutting through the ropes that bound Maggie’s hands.

“Get out, whore. You cannot cause me any trouble. I am too strong.” He pushed Maggie out the door as though she were a bundle of laundry.

Maggie stumbled and crumpled to the paving stones.

Pelling slammed the door and signaled the coachman. The hackney rumbled forward.

“Tell me about Celeste,” Lavinia said quickly. “Tell me what went wrong.”

Pelling held the knife in his hand, the tip of the blade pointed at her midsection. “She tried to manipulate me. Tried to cheat me.”

“You hired her to steal the Medusa bracelet?”

“I had no choice.” Fury leaped in Pelling’s eyes. “I wanted to hire Hudson for the task, not a woman. Word had reached me that, for a price, he would arrange to procure certain valuable items for discreet clients. Gems and jewels and the like.”

He was wrong about Howard, she thought. Surely Celeste had been the thief. But this was not the time to correct his false impression.

“You needed someone to steal the Medusa bracelet?” she asked carefully.

“Yes. I was willing to pay Hudson well for his work. He listened to my proposal and seemed quite interested at first. He told me that he would research the project and give me his decision. But when I returned to conclude the bargain, he informed me that he lacked the nerve to carry out the theft. It was too difficult and dangerous, he said.”

“But Celeste had a different opinion, did she not?”

Pelling snorted softly. “She came to see me a few days later. Alone. She told me that Hudson had turned me down because, after researching the bracelet in an old book he had found, he was suddenly consumed with a desire to gain possession of it himself.”