The Cliff House Strangler (6 page)

“I go outside, have smoke,” Serkov admitted. His rough face stretched into a sarcastic sneer as he glanced balefully at the cook—a stocky man with a balding head, a thick, bushy mustache, and a well-chewed, unlit cigar clamped between his teeth. “
Durak!
He not let me smoke in kitchen. Say it make filthy smell. As if cigar not stink bad enough.”

Lieutenant Ahern looked at the man incredulously. “You’re telling me you went
outside
to smoke a cigarette? In this storm?”

“What you call storm not bother me. In Russia get real rain, not few weak drops like this.”

The policeman continued to look skeptical. “How long did you stay out there, then, in our California
drizzle
?”

There was a scattering of uneasy amusement at this. Serkov merely shrugged, his face as harsh and unyielding as ever. “Few minutes, half hour, who knows. I no have clock for wrist.”

Ahern turned to the cook. “Can you tell me how long Serkov was gone before he came back to the kitchen?”

The cook shifted the cigar stump in his mouth and gave the Russian a disgusted look. Clearly, there was no love lost between the two men.

“He was gone at least thirty minutes,” he told Ahern. “Most likely, longer than that. The boy here,” he said, nodding to Eddie, who immediately sat up straighter as all eyes fell upon him, “had just finished his dinner when this Russian bugger comes slinkin’ back in, lookin’ as if he’d been up to no good.”

Serkov half-rose to his feet at this, but Ahern motioned him back into his seat.

Without prompting, Eddie chimed in, “What Cook says is true enough, Lieutenant. Never said a word neither, that Russki feller. Just sat there in the kitchen, glarin’ at us like we done him some mischief, though I swear I ain’t never so much as set eyes on the bloke before.”

“Watch your language, boy-o,” Ahern cautioned, albeit more or less perfunctorily. He stared at us for several minutes, then shook his head. “All right, then, I’m ready enough to give up the fiddle, at least for tonight. The bunch of you think over what you might have seen tonight, and we’ll have another go of it in the morning. He nodded toward Madame Karpova, her daughter, and Dmitry Serkov. “The three of you stay behind. The rest of you can leave. Cook here will show you to your rooms.”

There was a collective groan at this reminder that we would be forced to spend the night in the expanded hotel wing. We all started when the sky was suddenly filled with brilliant shafts of lightning, followed moments later by a boom of thunder. The rain had once again intensified, crashing solid sheets of water against the windows and battering onto the roof.

Ahern gave a half smile, as if nature had effectively proved his point. “As you can see, there’s no use complaining. With this storm, the police can’t get in and we can’t get out. I suggest everyone make the best of it. Remember,” he added as people rose, “no one leaves in the morning until the police arrive.”

There was another low grumble, but it was halfhearted at best. By now, most of my fellow guests seemed more or less resigned to their fate. In truth, some of them appeared so fatigued, I was sure they were beyond arguing. As for me, I was very glad I’d had the foresight to warn my parents that I might not be returning home until the following afternoon.

Madame Karpova’s dark eyes narrowed into black slits. “Why do you keep us here?” she demanded. “We have told you everything we know. My brother was outside. Yelena did not leave her seat. And I was in full sight the entire time. None of us could have strangled that horrible man, even if he deserved it.”

Ahern practically pounced on this. “So, Madame Karpova, you admit you had a motive for doing away with Moss.”

“That man had many enemies,” she insisted frostily. “He told lies in his newspaper. He was ignorant, yet he scorned the spirits and the world beyond our own. I warned Mr. Moss, as I did all of you, that an attitude like that was dangerous, but he would not listen.”

“You threatened Moss?” Ahern asked with growing interest.

The medium made a dismissive motion with her bejeweled hand. “There was no need to make threats. I, Madame Karpova, see all. I knew what lay ahead in his future. For all his—how do you say?—arrogance, he could not hide his black soul from me. Why should I threaten him, when his death was already written in the pages of time?”

“I don’t care what you think you saw in Moss’s future, madam,” Lieutenant Ahern told her firmly. “You’ll stay here until I say you can go.”

I had followed the others toward the door. However, when I passed near the screen, which was blocking our view of the body, I pretended to stumble. Bending as if to check my bootlaces, I unobtrusively tarried, hoping to overhear more of Ahern’s conversation with the Russians. I was not well pleased when Robert took my arm and hauled me unceremoniously to my feet.

“This is none of your business, Sarah. The police are trained to deal with murder investigations. You are not.” Naturally, he made no attempt to lower his voice, and not surprisingly, it caught Lieutenant Ahern’s attention. I knew there would be no more questions directed at the Russians until we had left the room. “Besides,” Robert persisted, “it’s after midnight and I’m done in.”

“Then by all means, retire to your bed,” I told him, calmly straightening my skirts. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Robert eyed me suspiciously. “You’ve got that look on your face, Sarah. What the blazes are you planning now?”

“Once again, you are making mountains out of molehills,” I retorted. “I simply mean to visit Mrs. Reade and ascertain how she is recovering. The poor woman appeared quite unwell earlier.”

Robert studied me warily, but even he could hardly fault me for performing what was, after all, no more than my Christian duty.

My colleague’s patience had apparently given out, for instead of offering further argument, he merely shrugged his broad shoulders. “Well, it’s not my funeral. Just don’t bombard her with endless questions. The poor soul’s been through enough for one night.”

I found the two women in the saloon, where we had left them earlier. Mrs. Reade reclined on the sofa, a light wool blanket covering her frail body up to the neck. She lay so still, eyes shut, her face dangerously pale, that I was tempted to hold a mirror to her mouth to ensure that she was still breathing. Nora Ahern, who sat on a chair beside the widow, glanced up expectantly at my entrance.

“Miss Woolson, I’m that glad to see you. Mrs. Reade’s hardly stirred. If it wasn’t for this storm, I’d ask one of the men to fetch a doctor.”

“Yes, I agree it would be best if she could be examined by a physician.” I crouched down beside the sofa and removed Theodora Reade’s hands from beneath the blanket. They felt dry and brittle, the bones slight, the skin transparently thin; I could make out every raised vein and every swollen arthritic joint beneath the paper-thin
flesh. The widow groaned softly as I attempted to take her pulse, then slowly opened her eyes. She stared at me in confusion.

“What—what’s wrong? Where am I?” she asked weakly, her pale gray eyes going from me to Nora Ahern.

“You fainted, Mrs. Reade,” I replied, gently rubbing her hands in an effort to increase circulation. “You’re lying on a sofa in the Cliff House saloon. I fear you’ve suffered a terrible shock.”

She continued to look at me blankly; then I watched as the awful memory came flooding back. Her already-pale face blanched nearly white. “Oh dear! I remember now. That nasty newspaper man. He was—he was—” Nervously, she licked her dry lips. “You’ll think me a foolish old woman, but I have to know. That Moss person—is he really dead?”

“Yes, I’m afraid he is,” I replied, gently squeezing her hands. “Try not to think about it, Mrs. Reade. Everything is being taken care of. There’s no need to distress yourself.”

I doubted she heard my words. Her eyes remained contracted and unfocused. Then she shook her head, as if trying to clear her mind. “It’s all such a muddle, like a bad dream. And of course my eyes aren’t as good as they used to be. I just cannot make sense of it.”

“That’s hardly surprising, dear,” Mrs. Ahern said, kneeling beside me. “It gave us all a terrible fright, I can tell you.”

It was clear by the strained look on Nora’s face that this was nothing short of the truth. The lieutenant’s wife appeared as if she, too, was finding Moss’s death difficult to take in. The freckles liberally sprinkled across her nose stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin.

“I’ve never seen the likes of what went on here tonight,” Mrs. Ahern continued, closing her eyes with a little shiver.

“Have you attended other séances given by Madame Karpova?” I asked.

She hesitated, then nodded, as if the need to share these experiences overcame her natural reticence. “I have indeed, Miss Woolson. And they weren’t anything like this! I’d been suffering something
fearful from dyspepsia during Mam’s last illness. One or two sittings with Madame Karpova, and my stomach felt right as rain again. She seemed to have a knack for making me sleep better at night, too. I’d leave her rooms feeling so relaxed, like I was floating on air. She had a real knack for making my troubles just seem to disappear.”

“Was anyone else ever present at those private readings, Mrs. Ahern?” I asked.

She thought for a moment. “The senator’s wife, Mrs. Gaylord, was there once or twice. And Mrs. Reade here. Oh, and I remember Mrs. Bramwell attended a few times. Always very comforting the readings were, for whoever was present.”

“I gather from tonight’s séance that your mother recently passed away,” I said gently. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Her blue eyes filled with tears. “Yes, last month it was. And me not there when it happened! I only went to the market, but when I came back, she was gone.” She paused to dab at her eyes with a plain white handkerchief. “Madame Karpova said it might make me feel better if I came here tonight. She said I could say good-bye to Mam, you know, proper like. And it did help. I truly felt as if she were here. But I should have known better than to bring my husband along. He doesn’t take to such things.” She dried her face and blew her nose. “Although I suppose with that reporter’s death and all, it’s as well Frank was here. I wonder, has he learned anything about who killed that dreadful man?”

“He’s conducted a cursory interview,” I told her. “Unfortunately, it’s unearthed few hard facts. Everyone claims to have had their eyes fixed on Madame Karpova when Mr. Moss was attacked.”

“That was when Madame Karpova conjured up the spirit, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Reade asked in a small voice. The elderly widow had been so quiet, I had nearly forgotten she was there.

“Oh, wasn’t that something?” Nora Ahern put in before I could respond. “I remember wondering if it was gonna speak.” She gave a nervous giggle. “I don’t mind telling you I was hoping it wouldn’t.”
The laughter quickly died away and her eyes once again grew serious. “Then that lightning flashed and made everything so bright, and Mrs. Bramwell screamed.” She blinked her eyes. “Mr. Moss wasn’t a nice man. Still, he didn’t deserve to end his days like that.”

“It must have been awful for you, Mrs. Ahern,” I said. “You were seated directly next to Mr. Moss. Did he say anything before he, ah, before the candle was relit?”

For the first time since I’d entered the saloon, Nora Ahern’s expression became guarded. “No, I don’t think so. But then, like everyone else, I was busy watching Madame Karpova. Besides, Mr. Ahern and I hardly knew Mr. Moss, so I didn’t pay him much mind.”

Nora Ahern was a terrible liar. I watched the color creep back into her pale cheeks as she diverted her eyes.

“Oh?” I said, allowing my skepticism to be reflected in my voice. “When you said Mr. Moss wasn’t a nice man, I thought perhaps you knew him personally. He did write a popular newspaper column. Surely you must have seen it.”

“Mr. Ahern says that paper is nothing but trash and he won’t allow it in the house,” she said in a rush, then looked down at her hands, which she was twisting and untwisting in her lap. As if realizing this uneasy movement revealed the state of her nerves more than was prudent, she hastily folded her hands and held them still. Raising her eyes to meet mine, she even attempted a wan smile. “Now that you mention it, I believe I have seen Mr. Moss’s paper once or twice.”

“But you didn’t know him personally?”

“Oh my, no. Mr. Ahern doesn’t hold with reporters. Always getting hold of the wrong end of the stick, he says. Making the police look like a pack of idiots.”

“Lieutenant Ahern didn’t seem pleased to see Mr. Moss.” Nora laughed nervously. “Trust me, Miss Woolson, it was nothing personal. Just Mr. Moss’s work and all.” She looked toward the door, clearly anxious to leave the saloon—and, I thought, to escape
my questions. “Now that you’re here to watch Mrs. Reade, I’ll just go and find Mr. Ahern. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, of course I’ll be happy to—” I began. But with a rustle of skirts, Nora Ahern had already swept hastily out of the room.

I
should have known I’d get no sleep until you had rehashed the entire evening,” Robert lamented as Eddie Cooper and I crowded into his small bedroom.

I seated myself in the room’s only chair, while Eddie sank onto the bed, which took up most of the limited space. A small table—upon which had been placed a kerosene lamp, a towel, and a washbowl filled with water—and a black-walnut wardrobe cabinet completed the room’s simple decor. All the essentials, I thought, without any frills.

I’d waited in the saloon until Robert and the cook had assisted Mrs. Reade to her room, which was located next to the Aherns’, in case she required assistance during the night. Afterward, Eddie and I—for of course the lad was determined not to be left out—had followed the Scot to his room.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Robert, but there are one or two things I’d like to discuss while they’re fresh in my mind.” I hurried on before he could voice another objection. “To begin with, I’m sure you realize Dmitry Serkov was lying about going outside for a cigarette. His clothing was hardly damp. He may have gone outside, but he could not have remained there for more than a few minutes, or he would have been drenched.”