“We have reason to believe that he will have established his killing ground in a place that he believes is safe,” Benedict said. He saw the tremor that went through Charlotte when he used the wordskilling groundbut he ignored it. “We know that he takes his time with his victims. He is a perfectionist when it comes to his photography. That means he requires privacy.”
“We have concluded that the most logical way that he could be assured that he won’t be discovered or interrupted is if he has established his studio in a building that he owns or controls,” Logan said.
Benedict saw comprehension begin to filter into Charlotte’s expression.
“When Miss Doncaster and I came here to ask you about your son, you mentioned that you managed the details of his life, including his finances. Inspector Logan and I stopped at Virgil’s house before we came here. There are no financial records at his house. You keep his accounts, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I don’t see how that information can help you find him.”
“Does he own any property here in London?” Logan asked.
Mrs. Warwick blinked several times. “Yes, as a matter of fact. My husband left him several properties that were intended to provide income for him. The majority of the properties are rented to shopkeepers and the like who live in the rooms above their establishments.”
“Perhaps there is one that is not rented?” Benedict prodded.
Charlotte hesitated. “One of the properties is an old house near the docks that has been standing empty for nearly two years. My business manager has mentioned on a number of occasions that it should be leased or sold.”
“Why are there no tenants?” Benedict asked.
Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again there was nothing but resignation and a mother’s grief in her gaze.
“Virgil told me that he had plans for the property,” she said. “He insisted that the old house be left unoccupied until he was ready to remodel it. He said he was working with an architect. I was pleased that he was finally showing some interest in financial matters. But when I asked him how the project was coming along, he said that he had changed his mind about the original design and fired the architect. Shortly thereafter he had his first nervous breakdown and I was forced to send him to Cresswell Manor.”
“Have you ever been to the house that he said he intended to remodel?” Benedict asked.
“No.” Mrs. Warwick shook her head. “There was no reason to pay a visit to the property. My manager kept an eye on it while Virgil was being treated at the Manor to make certain that no one broke in or attempted to take up residence.”
“What did the property manager tell you about the house?” Logan asked.
“Very little,” Mrs. Warwick said. “He just mentioned that the windows were boarded up and that the locks on the front and back doors appeared to be very modern. He was satisfied that the house was secure.”
Forty
The 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.
