Otherwise Engaged (27 page)

T
he photography studio looked very much like other studios Amity had seen—except for the large, ornate, wrought-iron cage in one corner. Penny was huddled on the floor of the cage. She was dressed in the plain housedress and soft shoes that she had been wearing earlier in the evening. She staggered to her feet when Amity walked into the room with Virgil Warwick.

“Amity, my dear sister.” Penny’s eyes were stark with horror and dismay. “I was so afraid of this. He said you would come with him willingly once you knew that he had taken me.”

Amity looked around. There was a large, expensive-looking camera on a tripod in the center. The lens of the camera was aimed at an elegant, white satin chair. A small vase filled with white lilies sat on a nearby table. In one corner there was a folding screen of the sort designed to provide privacy for dressing. The panels of the screen were painted with an elaborate floral design.

“What else could I do?” Amity said briskly. “Don’t worry, we shall
both be leaving in a short while. Warwick is quite insane. By definition that means he cannot think logically. Benedict and Inspector Logan, however, are eminently capable of rational thought. They will find us soon.”

“Shut your mouth, you lying whore,” Virgil hissed. “Or I will kill your sister while you watch.” He walked toward the cage and pointed the pistol at Penny.

Amity looked at him and said nothing.

Virgil gave her a cold smile.

For some reason the most jarring thing about Virgil Warwick was that he appeared so normal. There was nothing remarkable about his neatly combed light brown hair, his thin face or his lean build. It would have been quite easy to pass him by on the street without taking any notice of him whatsoever. But that was the thing about the true monsters of the world, Amity thought. They were so dangerous because they were able to hide in plain sight.

“Excellent,” Virgil said. “You seem to have grasped the fact that you are not the one in control here tonight.” He gestured toward the privacy screen. “Time to change into your wedding gown for your sitting.”

Amity looked down at her bound wrists. “How am I supposed to take off one gown and put on another with my hands tied?”

Virgil frowned. She realized that he had not planned for this particular eventuality.

“How did you manage the changing of the gowns with the other brides?” she asked, keeping her voice at a conversational tone.

“I made them dress inside the cage,” he said.

He looked annoyed. For a horrifying instant Amity realized he might murder Penny in order to solve the problem.

“There is room for both of us inside,” she said quickly.

Virgil came to a decision. “Very well. The gown you will wear for your portrait is over there behind the screen. Get it.”

She went around the screen and took the white satin-and-lace gown off the peg. A shiver went through her when she recognized the design of the bodice. It was the same gown that the victims had worn in the photographs.

“It’s very beautiful,” she said.

“Nothing but the best for a pure and virtuous bride,” Virgil said. “Of course you are not exactly pure or virtuous, are you? No, you are tainted. Stanbridge may not realize it but I am doing him a favor. When he comes to his senses he will thank me. After all, once a whore, always a whore. Take the gown to the cage. Hurry.”

The dress was very heavy. The dressmaker had used a vast amount of fabric in the skirts. There was so much beading on the stiffened bodice that Amity suspected it alone weighed several pounds.

Virgil motioned for Penny to step back out of the way. When she obeyed, he took a key out of the pocket of his coat and unlocked the cage. Amity carried the wedding gown inside.

Virgil slammed the door shut and locked it. He went to the workbench, picked up a knife and walked back to the cage.

“Put your hands through the bars,” he ordered.

Amity did as instructed. Virgil sliced through the bindings on her wrists. Relief swept through her. She and Penny were hardly free, but at least, for the moment, they were both unbound.

Virgil crossed the room, picked up the folding screen and positioned it in front of the cage. Amity looked at Penny, brows raised.

“Evidently Mr. Warwick has some respect for a lady’s modesty,” Penny said coolly.

On the far side of the screen Virgil uttered a guttural laugh.

“You know what they say, bad luck to see the bride in her gown before the wedding,” he said lightly.

But there was more to it than that, Amity realized.

“You don’t like to see women nude, do you?” she asked.

Virgil grunted on the other side of the screen. “Women like you are unclean. Dirty. Tainted. Their wedding gowns conceal the truth about them until the groom has been deceived into marriage.”

Penny helped Amity out of the domino and the simple gown that she had worn beneath it. They both went about the business as slowly as they dared. Trying to buy time, Amity thought. She touched the Rose Necklace that she still wore around her neck as if it were a talisman. Benedict and Logan would even now be searching for them.

“Is that why you murdered your own bride?” Penny asked, sounding for all the world as if she was making polite drawing room conversation. “Because you felt she had deceived you?”

There was a short, startled silence from the other side of the screen.

“How did you discover that?” Virgil demanded.

“This is your wife’s gown, isn’t it?” Amity asked. “How long did it take you to realize that she was not the virgin you assumed her to be?”

“I believed her to be a paragon of womanhood,” Virgil said. “But she dared to come to me pregnant with another man’s child. She tried to deceive me and for a time I believed her lies. But when she miscarried three weeks after the wedding I knew the truth.”

Amity stepped into the heavy white satin skirts and pulled up the bodice. She noticed that the gown was cut rather full around the waistline. Madame Dubois had done a very good job of concealing that feature, however.

“To be fair, you lied to her, as well, didn’t you?” Amity said.

“What are you talking about?” Virgil snapped.

“I imagine that you failed to mention the streak of insanity in your family bloodline,” Penny said casually.

“The Warwick bloodline is untainted,” Virgil roared. He slammed the privacy screen aside just as Penny started to do up the bodice of the gown. His face was splotched with fury. “How dare you imply that there is insanity in the family!”

“I had an interesting conversation with your sister tonight before you murdered her,” Amity said. “Out of curiosity, may I ask why you killed her in the middle of a ballroom?”

“You think I killed her?” Virgil asked. He looked first surprised and then amused. “You silly woman. Put on the veil. It is time for your sitting.”

Penny picked up the veil. Her eyes were filled with dread.

Amity turned toward her, partially blocking Virgil’s view. She pressed the little evening bag that she had carried to the costume ball into Penny’s hand. Penny’s fingers closed around it. Her eyes flickered in understanding. Amity knew she had just remembered the little sewing kit inside.

“Good-bye, sister,” Amity said, raising her voice to a sorrowful wail. “He will kill me as soon as he takes my photo and then he will murder you, as well. He is quite mad, you see.”

Penny hastily opened the pretty evening bag and took out the small scissors.

“Enough!” Virgil screamed. “There will be no more talk of insanity.”

“Be ready.” With her back to Virgil, Amity mouthed the words the way she and Penny had done when they were children trying to convey a silent message across the dinner table without their parents being aware of it.

Penny concealed the scissors in the folds of her skirt.

Amity readied herself. Until that moment she had been careful to move slowly, making no moves that might alarm Virgil. She could only pray that he would not be anticipating a sudden burst of energy from her.

“Put your hands outside the bars,” Virgil ordered.

Amity turned around and extended her wrists. He was obliged to set the pistol aside while he bound her a second time.

“Stand back, both of you,” Virgil ordered. Hastily he retrieved the pistol.

Amity and Penny obeyed.

Virgil stabbed the key into the padlock. It took him two tries to unlock the door. There was a feverish excitement about him now.

When the lock finally gave way, Virgil tugged the heavy door open. In that one brief moment he was forced to juggle the door, the lock and the pistol.

Amity gave a shrill, piercing scream and flung herself at the door. The force of her full weight slamming into the iron bars caught Virgil off guard. He staggered back a couple of steps.

“Lying whore!” he screamed. “Lying, cheating harlot. I’ll teach you your place.”

He used his grip on the door to slam it closed but Penny, wielding the little pair of scissors like claws, stabbed his hand. The sharp points of the blades bit into flesh.

Virgil howled. Blood flowed.

Reflexively he released his grip on the iron bars and staggered back out of range. Amity took advantage of the opportunity to shove hard against the door a second time. It swung wide open. Penny dashed out first. Amity flew after her.

Virgil fell back again, his attention fixed on Amity. He raised the
gun, aiming it at her. She grabbed the only weapon at hand—the long wedding veil with its elaborate crown—and tossed it at him. The yards of diaphanous lace cascaded over his face and chest. Furious and clearly panicked now, he swiped at the billowing veil with both hands.

The roar of the gun was deafening. Amity didn’t know if Virgil had pulled the trigger by accident or intent. The only thing that mattered in that moment was that she and Penny were both on their feet. Neither of them had been hit.

Penny seized the nearest heavy object—the medical satchel—and hurled it at Virgil. It caught him on his upper shoulder. It didn’t do much damage but he stumbled again. He had evidently unlatched the satchel earlier because the contents spilled out. Small glass vials filled with medicines, bandages, a stethoscope and a number of gleaming instruments scattered across the floor.

Virgil yelled and swung the pistol toward Penny. Amity grabbed his gun arm with both hands and hauled on it with all of her strength. The second shot slammed into the wooden floorboards.

He managed to shake free of her grip but Penny came at him from behind, a scalpel in her hand. She stabbed wildly at the back of his neck, missed and struck his shoulder.

He shrieked in pain and whirled around. He still had the gun. He tried to level it at Penny. Amity hoisted the heavy skirts of the wedding dress and kicked Virgil behind his right knee with all the strength she could muster.

He screamed again, lost his balance and went down on both knees. This time he lost his grip on the gun. It fell to the floor. Amity kicked it out of reach.

Penny grabbed the big camera off the tripod. Amity realized that she intended to smash it against Virgil’s head.

A gun roared. Not Virgil’s, Amity realized. The sound had been muffled.

The studio door slammed open. Benedict and Logan thundered into the room. Amity realized that Benedict had shot the lock off the door.

It seemed to her that for an instant everything and everyone in the scene except Benedict and Logan froze. The two men did not stop. They were intent only on the destruction of their prey. And their prey was Virgil Warwick.

Virgil erupted from the brief trance. He scrambled to his feet. Amity made no attempt to stop him. Neither did Penny. They both knew that he would never escape the wrath of the two men who were between him and the door.

Virgil must have seen the ice in Benedict’s and Logan’s eyes. He stopped short, frantic now.

“No!” he shrieked. “I’ve done nothing. It’s the whores. They are trying to kill me.”

“Stop,” Logan said. “I am arresting you on charges of murder.”

“No!” Virgil screamed. “I’m Virgil Warwick. You can’t touch me.”

He whirled around and reached out to grab Amity. She realized he intended to use her as a shield. She lurched out of his path. Her foot caught on the thick, treacherous folds of satin in the skirts of the gown. She lost her balance, but the fall took her out of range of Virgil’s desperately flailing hands.

He changed direction and went after the gun he had dropped during the struggle.

Benedict aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger.

The roar of the gun bounced off the walls. Virgil stiffened as if he had been electrified. He looked down, staring in disbelief at the
growing bloodstain on the front of his crisply pleated white shirt. Then he raised his eyes and stared at Benedict, bewildered.

“I’m Virgil Warwick,” he said. “You can’t do this to me.”

He crumpled to the floor.

A great hush descended upon the room. Amity grabbed Penny’s hand. Penny’s fingers closed around hers. They both watched Logan crouch beside Virgil.

“Is he dead?” Benedict asked.

“Not quite,” Logan said. He took his fingers away from Virgil’s throat. “But he will be soon, which, under the circumstances, is a very good thing. We will not have to worry that he might be released again from an asylum.”