Nine
She stared at him, stunned speechless. She thought she had been braced for almost anything but this was the very last thing she could have imagined. When she finally managed to catch her breath, she shot to her feet, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
“Accusing me of being a fraudulent practitioner is one thing,” she said. “But how dare you accuse me of blackmail?”
He did not seem to be affected by her outrage.
“Will you please sit down?” he asked, sounding almost weary. “If you remain on your feet good manners will oblige me to stand, too, and I would much prefer to remain seated.” He paused a beat. “The leg, you know.”
“Oh.” She hesitated. Unable to think of anything else to do, she dropped back down on the sofa. “Explain yourself, sir.”
“There is nothing complicated about the situation. At least, there didn’t appear to be any complications when I started. My sister is being blackmailed.”
“I’m shocked, of course, but I’m certain I’ve never even met your sister.”
“You’re wrong, Miss Lockwood, you have met her, although you may not recall the meeting. Her name is Hannah Trafford.”
“I don’t know who you are—” Beatrice broke off, suddenly remembering an attractive, well-dressed lady in her late thirties whose psychical prints had radiated anxiety. “Mrs. Trafford is your sister?”
“She attended several performances at Fleming’s Academy. She saw you onstage a number of times and was so impressed that she booked some private appointments.”
“I do recall the appointments, but there was nothing unusual about them. I certainly did not use anything I learned from Mrs. Trafford to blackmail her.”
“Someone at the Academy discovered my sister’s most closely guarded secret during the course of a treatment that no doubt involved hypnosis.”
“But I never used hypnosis in the course of the private sessions,” she said. “Dr. Fleming was the expert in mesmerism. I’m quite sure that Mrs. Trafford never booked any sessions with my employer. She was very specific about wanting to consult with me.”
“Which makes you my primary suspect, especially given the fact that Dr. Fleming is dead.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” she whispered, appalled.
“As far as I have been able to determine, there were no other employees at the Academy.”
“No,” Beatrice said. “At least not at the time that Mrs. Trafford booked her appointments with me. We had a medium for a while who conducted séances. Quite popular. But she ran off with Dr. Roland’s assistant. I believe they are now touring in America.”
“I looked into that pair. You’re right, they are currently in America. It’s highly unlikely that they are blackmailing people here in London because the instructions in the extortion note stipulate the location of the first payment—a country house named Alverstoke Hall.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” she said. “But, then, the only times I move in social circles are when I’m on assignment.”
“Lord Alverstoke is a noted eccentric whose collection of Egyptian antiquities is said to put the British Museum to shame.”
She frowned. “What in the world does he have to do with this extortion business?”
“I have no idea,” Joshua said. “Yet. But given what I do know about Alverstoke, I suspect he is being used. I’m told he is easily confused these days and has become somewhat absentminded. He has scheduled a country-house party at the end of the week. It is an annual event during which he shows off his collection. Alverstoke and my sister have a passing acquaintance but she has never before been on the guest list for these yearly affairs. She is not fond of country-house parties or Egyptian antiquities. But the blackmailer indicated that she must attend this one.”
“Alverstoke Hall will be overflowing with guests,” Beatrice said. “All in all, a perfect cover for a blackmailer. So many suspects.”
“Exactly. Assuming for the moment that you are not an expert in hypnosis—”
She glared. “I’m not.”
“Then let us consider another scenario. My sister tells me that she remembers the appointments with you. When she arrived at the Academy, Dr. Fleming always showed her into a dark room and told her that you would arrive momentarily. She recalls the consultations—”
Beatrice raised a hand to stop him. “One moment, sir. Did your sister describe me?”
“She described Miranda the Clairvoyant. That was you, Miss Lockwood. You used a black wig and a heavy veil in your act.”
“In other words, Mrs. Trafford never saw me, did she? She could not identify me.”
“No, but I am aware that you were Miranda, so there is no point wasting time trying to deny it,” Joshua said calmly. “To continue, at each appointment, my sister was shown into the consultation room. You entered. She talked to you for some time. But now I’m wondering if perhaps on one or more occasions Dr. Fleming returned to the room and put her into a trance during which he learned her secret. Perhaps he gave her a post-hypnotic suggestion instructing her to forget that he had ever come into the room. My sister then left the Academy remembering only that she had consulted with you.”
“That’s not what happened,” Beatrice insisted. “I am very sure that Mrs. Trafford never requested hypnotic therapy. Dr. Fleming never treated her in my presence or otherwise.”
“Then how did someone at the Academy learn her secret?”
“I don’t know.” Beatrice paused, trying to marshal her thoughts. “What makes you so sure that whoever is blackmailing your sister was involved with the Academy?”
“The note my sister received implied that her secret had been discovered by paranormal means at the Academy. I discounted the notion that psychic powers had been involved, of course.”
“Of course.”
He ignored the sarcasm. Or perhaps he simply had not noticed the ice in her tone, she thought.
“My sister, however, has a long-standing interest in the paranormal,” he continued. “Hannah has consulted a number of practitioners over the years and belongs to a small society of researchers. She is convinced that if she did inadvertently give up her secret, it could only have been during the private sessions with you at the Academy.”
Beatrice narrowed her eyes. “Why am I the obvious suspect?”
“She believes you to be one of the very few genuine psychical talents that she has encountered in the course of her research. The others are not likely suspects. One currently resides in an asylum. One is a frail, elderly woman who does not practice professionally and does not take clients. Two are recluses who suffer from poor nerves and do not receive visitors. The last makes his living as a gambler. Two years ago he sailed for America because he heard there was a great deal of money to be made at the card tables in the American West. That leaves you, Miss Lockwood.”
Beatrice winced. “I see.”
“You may be interested to know that there is a new tenant occupying the rooms where you and Fleming conducted business.” Joshua finished his coffee and set the cup and saucer aside. “But the landlord was kind enough to allow me to search the premises.”
She watched him warily. “What did you hope to find after so many months?”
“Among other things, I found some old bloodstains on the floor of the office,” Joshua said. “Very hard to wash out, blood.”
She had been about to take a sip of her coffee but her fingers were shivering ever so slightly now. She set the cup back down in the saucer with great care.
“I also found an ancient stone tunnel behind an old wardrobe in the office,” Joshua added gently.
She took a deep breath. “You conducted a very thorough search, Mr. Gage. That tunnel was the route I used to escape the night Roland was murdered.” She paused, memories returning. “Roland and I kept our emergency packs just inside the tunnel in the event we were forced to flee from robbers or disgruntled clients.”
“More likely Fleming was afraid that sooner or later one of his extortion victims might come looking for him,” Joshua said. He raised a brow. “Or perhaps he feared that someone else in the same line would attempt to steal his secrets.”
“Dear heaven.” She was too shattered to think clearly. “I cannot believe that Roland was blackmailing people.”
But Roland’s dying words came back to her. Do not let me die with that on my conscience. I have enough to repent.
“You said that you and Fleming both kept your packs inside your escape tunnel?” Joshua asked.
“Yes. I had to leave his there that night. I could not carry both. But I opened Roland’s pack to take out the money I knew he kept inside.” She hesitated. “I did notice that there were some odd items in the pack. A notebook. An envelope filled with photos. Some letters.”
“You could not carry Fleming’s pack,” Joshua said. “So perhaps you took out a handful of blackmail items along with the money and left the rest behind?”
Anger whipped through her.
“No,” she said. “I took the money but nothing else. I wondered why he kept the items in his pack but I concluded they were all mementos that had some great personal meaning for him. The man who murdered Roland must have found the pack when he forced his way through the back of the wardrobe. Find him and you will have your extortionist, Mr. Gage.”
Joshua’s eyes burned. “That is precisely what I plan to do. With your help, Miss Lockwood.”