The Curse of the Singing Wolf (27 page)

The Countess threw on her
winter dressing gown of white velvet edged in ermine, snatched up
the ivory-handled pocket pistol from under her pillow and followed
him.

Together, the three of them
returned to the south tower. Nothing appeared to have been
disturbed. While Fedir stood guard at the door, Moriarty checked
for loose floorboards, loose stones and a secret door. The Countess
checked the dressing rooms and closets. Almost at once she noticed
that the red and gold dress from the Singing Wolf’s first ever
opera had been slashed with a knife. It was still hanging on its
hanger but it had been reduced to rags. She called Moriarty to have
a look.

“That confirms someone has been
in this chamber without us knowing it,” he said.

“Yes, but when? This could have
been done any time yesterday afternoon, during dinner or even
during the night.”

“Have any other garments been
slashed?”

She quickly checked. “No, just
this one.”

He rubbed his hand over his
unshaved chin. “This is an act of hate.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“That rules out theories about
rough love-making gone wrong and reincarnation through divine
suicide. We come back to murder.”

“What is it that you thought
you heard flitting up the stairs?”

“Something small, fast and
nimble, larger than a cat, smaller than a man. Fedir heard it too.
We weren’t dreaming. A loud noise from downstairs had already woken
us.”

“A gunshot?”

“No, I don’t think so. More
like the slamming of a door or a piece of furniture being
thrown.”

Her breath caught. “Not the
portcullis?”

“Relax. Fedir checked. It’s
down.”

She drew breath. “Was it at
first light? I think the old couple rise at first light and
rekindle the fire for the bread oven. They might have dropped a log
of wood.”

“Impossible to say when - the
high windows face south and don’t offer much light. The tapestry
covering the kitchen stairs has been hitched back since yesterday
and that’s what makes me think the noise came from the kitchen. If
it had come from any other direction it would have been
muffled.”

“Let’s forget the noise and the
dress for the moment. I’ll continue searching the dressing rooms
and the bathroom. Fedir should check the bedrooms to make sure
everyone is all right. You should question the servants. They must
have heard something too. Concentrate on that old couple. They’ve
been hiding something since the day we arrived.”

“I’m not leaving you up here
alone. I’m not ashamed to admit I’m spooked. I don’t believe in
ghosts or shape-shifting demons but something flew up those stairs,
came in here and vanished.”

“Very well,” she conceded while
remaining undeterred about pinpointing the current whereabouts of
everyone as quickly as possible. “Send Fedir to check on the
others, including the servants. You stand guard at the door. I’ll
keep looking.”

The remaining dressing rooms
and closets revealed nothing worth noting. The garderobe had
developed an unpleasant odour. She made a mental note to tell Desi
to sluice it. But the bathroom was a different story. Inside the
copper bath was the golden-haired doll. Someone had dropped it into
the empty bath. Since the old woman had taken possession of the
doll, it could only have been her, though it was a stretch of the
imagination to picture her as nimble.

The Countess showed Moriarty
the doll and told him of the incident between Inez and the old
woman.

“So how did the doll end up in
the bath?” he quizzed.

The Countess had no answer. It
was time to set another trap. She lowered her voice and told him
her plan. He began shaking his head.

“I don’t like the idea of
leaving you up here on your own.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts or
shape-shifting demons either, that means whoever came up here is
human. They are vulnerable to bullets and I have a gun.” She showed
him her elegant ivory-handled pocket pistol. “I’m going to sit in
that chair by the door with my finger on the trigger. Whoever
emerges after they think we have both gone downstairs will be in
for a surprise. Make a great show of speaking loudly and tramping
down the stairs on your way out. Position yourself on the landing
to the great hall. If you hear me scream, come running.”

Reluctantly, he removed himself
to the landing. His gun was cocked and his heart was beating fast.
Every tick of the clock felt like an hour.

The Countess had positioned the
chair behind the door. Her heart was beating equally fast and her
hand was shaking. She reminded herself to take deep slow breaths.
The sound of the wind whistling around the merlins of the tower was
the only thing that could be heard. The Countess was about to give
up when she heard a faint click like the opening of a door or
window except all the doors in the tower were open and there was
only one window in the garderobe and it was not fitted with glass.
Her heartbeat accelerated and she fought to steady her hand. A soft
swishing sound came next. It was the sound of silk or satin in
motion. A moment later came a tuneful humming. Her heart was in her
throat and the thrashing of it almost deafened her. She counted to
three then showed herself.

Something had been standing in
the doorway to the first dressing room. It gave a tiny cry and
jumped back. The door slammed. The next door slammed. The Countess
gave chase. Another door slammed. Finally the bathroom door
slammed. The Countess was breathing hard though she had barely
covered any distance at all. She checked the bath where she had
earlier replaced the doll. It had gone. The bath was now empty. She
checked the japanned cabinets. Empty. She stared at herself in the
mirror and that’s when she saw it. Fingerprints smudged on the
silvered glass. The middle mirror, which protruded about twelve
inches from the wall, was actually a door concealing a tall thin
cabinet.

The Countess trained her gun,
pressed her fingers to the glass and waited for the door to spring
back.

“Where’s my maman?” said the
golden-haired child clutching the pretty porcelain doll that looked
a perfect likeness of its young owner.

“I wish I knew,” sighed the
Countess, pocketing her gun. “What’s your name?”

“Lalique.”

“Well, Lalique, you have been
playing a very merry game of hide and seek.”

“I know. I wasn’t supposed to
let you find me. You win. What’s your name?”

“Countess Varvara.”

“Your name is not as pretty as
mine.”

“That’s true. I think you were
named for the lovely coloured glass on your maman’s dressing
table.”

“Was I?”

“Yes. Why don’t you come out of
there and I can show you.”

The Countess took the girl
gently by the hand and led her into the bedchamber where she sat on
an ottoman and lifted the life-size doll onto her lap. The little
girl leaned on her elbows and studied herself in the oval glass.
Her face puckered disapprovingly.

“Hortense has not had time to
do my hair. She normally does it in rags and when the rags come out
I have golden ringlets.”

“My maid can do your hair for
you.”

“Can she do ringlets?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I have worn this dress for
three days now. It smells because I have been sleeping in the
stable with the donkeys.”

“Do you normally sleep in the
stable?”

“Oh, no, I have my own cot and
when maman comes I sleep in the big bed with her. I like it when
maman comes to stay.”

“You don’t know where your
maman went?”

The girl shook her head and her
lips drooped. “Hortense doesn’t know either. I asked her. She has
had no time to look for maman because she has been busy baking
bread and making soup because maman brought four friends here to
meet me and then she went away and Hortense doesn’t know
where.”

“Six friends,” corrected the
Countess.

“Hortense said there was only
supposed to be four friends. She said she didn’t know about the man
and the lady. That’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Hortense told me we had to
play hide and seek until maman came back. I like hide and seek but
I’m getting tired of hiding in the stable. I want to wear my new
dress and my new slippers. Maman wanted me to look pretty for her
friends. I don’t look pretty now, do I?”

“Oh, I think you still look
very pretty.”

“Hortense says I should never
tell lies. She says God doesn’t like little girls who tell lies. Do
you tell lies?”

“Only when it is important not
to tell the truth.”

“I don’t think I understand. Is
this the coloured glass that has my name?”

“Yes, it’s called Lalique. Is
this a photo of you in this silver frame?”

“Oc. I was just a baby then. I
had my birthday last summer. Next year I will have six years. If
you look at the back of the photo you will see something maman
wrote. I asked her what it was she was writing but she said she
would tell me when I was a little older. You can read it to me, if
you wouldn’t mind.”

“Certainly.” The Countess
removed the photo from the frame and read: “Baron Frederik
Reichenbach. Herr Gustav von Gunn. Prince Anton Orczy. Colonel
James Isambard Moriarty.” Each name was followed by a question
mark.

“I think they must be the names
of maman’s four friends.”

“Yes, I rather think they are.
How would you like to play a new game?”

“I won’t have to sleep in the
stable?”

“No.”

“Do you promise not to take
Lally away again?”

“Lally?”

“My doll.”

“I promise.”

“I took Lally from your bed
when you weren’t looking. It wasn’t really stealing because it was
my doll. Then that servant took it when I left it in the bread
room. Hortense got it back for me. Hortense was very cross. What
game?”

“It’s a game called: Surprise!
My maid will do your hair in ringlets and you can have a bath in my
room and you can put on your new dress and slippers and when you
are ready you can come out and give your maman’s four friends a big
surprise. How does that sound?”

The girl clapped her hands.
“Oh, oc! I cannot wait to wear my new dress!” She leapt to her
feet. “I will go and fetch it. It’s in the chest in the cot
room.”

The Countess caught the girl by
the hand. “My maid can get it.”

“She won’t know which one,”
pouted the girl.

“It’s the red and gold one,
isn’t it?”

“How did you know?”

“Your maman told me,” the
Countess lied, though there was no sorcery to her guess – the red
and gold dress looked brand new and the matching silk slippers
looked unworn. “I will tell my maid and she will fetch it. You see,
one of your maman’s friends is on the stairs waiting to catch you
in hide and seek. You cannot let him win. I will send him away and
then you can run to my room. Knock five times and my maid will let
you in. I will meet you there. Can you count to five?”

“Oh, oc!” She knocked on the
dressing table to prove it then danced around the room and bounced
on the bed and threw her doll in the air.

“Shhh,” hushed the Countess.
“It has to be a surprise, remember. While I’m speaking to your
maman’s friend you can find that nice little brooch with your face
painted on it. I will pin it on your dress. I’ll be back in a
moment. Wait here and don’t make any noise.”

While the girl was bouncing up
and down on the bed, the Countess noticed whorls of talcum powder
filling the air. It wasn’t until she’d met up with Moriarty that
she realized that the talcum powder was in fact flour and that one
of the girl’s hiding places had been the compartment under the
bread table. No wonder the men had tracked the phantom to the bread
room and then lost sight of it. The old couple, a picture of
innocence, had seated themselves at the table with their bread and
broth and candle. Who would think to look in the dough hatch!

The girl had led them a merry
dance and had no doubt given the old couple more than few
heart-stopping moments. But the secret was out now. They would all
soon know it. And slowly, bit by bit, the lies would be exposed and
the truth would be revealed.

Xenia was sworn to secrecy and
somehow managed to pilfer the red and gold dress and silk slippers
from the chest while no one was looking. Neither she nor Fedir
could quite believe that the lunatic everyone feared turned out to
be a harmless little girl. Xenia knew she would never have children
of her own so she was eager to lavish maternal attention on the
girl.

In the meantime, the Countess
dressed herself and went to breakfast. Understandably, Dr Watson
had not yet surfaced but the other four men were seated around the
table, discussing the latest mysterious incident which Moriarty was
attempting to describe, swearing that both he and Fedir had heard
something flitting up the spiral stairs at first light.

“Are you sure you weren’t
sharing the same dream?” jibed the Prince, breaking the corner off
a warm flaky croissant and popping it into his mouth.

Moriarty looked like thunder.
Lack of sleep was taking its toll and the first thing to suffer in
such a case was always a sense of humour. He was about to give the
Montenegrin an uncensored serve when Fedir interrupted them.

“What is it?” said the
Countess.

“It is the boy, Milo, he is
missing.”

“Missing?” queried the
Baron.

“He has not been seen since
last night when he went to bed.”

“Who was the last to see him?”
quizzed the Prince.

“Inez and Desi both said
goodnight to him and saw him go into his room.”

“Has his bed been slept in?”
asked the Irishman.

“Yes.”

“What about his clothes?” asked
the Countess, reading the worried look on the face of her
manservant. Here was a new mystery to worry about just when she
thought all would soon be resolved. “Are his clothes hanging on his
chair or is he wearing them?”