He didn’t move. “It’s your head, too, Miss Headley. Pray, remember that.” But he knew Victorine well enough to know she did not make idle threats. When she opened her mouth to scream, he was on her, pushing her head underwater. He had a look at all of her while he held her down and had the thoughtIsn’t that interestingbefore he removed his hand. She came up spitting and gasping and, as he suspected, tried to claw him.
Martin sat back on his haunches and easily batted her hands away. She had every reason to stay in the tub and he had every reason to keep her there. They shared the same goals. He doubted it was any more comforting to her than it was to him.
“Are you done?” he asked calmly.
She growled at him, choked on water, and lost what remained of her dignity in a fit of coughing.
There were some folded towels on a nearby stool. Martin handed her one. He watched her pat her face dry. Her hair, which had been perfectly arranged to keep it dry while she bathed, was a bedraggled coil hanging limply to one side. She angrily plucked the loose pins, threw them at him one at a time, and then wrapped the towel around her head. He thought she looked vaguely regal, although he would have his tongue cut out rather than tell her. If she kept lying to him, maybe he would cut out hers. The thought excited him, but not as much as it would have excited him to do the same to Fedora Chen. Victorine Headley had robbed him of that opportunity. The China girl was damaged goods now.
“Why did you go to the library this afternoon?” he asked. “And don’t say you had an itch to read. You were there possibly ten minutes, and you left without a book.”
“I made arrangements with Roen to meet him there.”
“Did you?” Martin moved the towels remaining on the stool to the floor. He sat down. The stool wasn’t high, but it lifted him enough that he was no longer at eye level with Victorine. “He left this morning with his wife and all his equipment. You were still asleep, I suspect, when he came into the hotel to collect his pack. If you’d shared your plans with me, I would have told you he was gone. What was the purpose of meeting him? And why the library?”
“The purpose doesn’t concern you in any way. I chose thelibrary because it wouldn’t be crowded but there would be witnesses.”
“Ah,” he said. “So you intended to make a scene but with a small audience. I agree with you that sometimes a more intimate venue is better. It contains the drama. Were you concerned you’d overact?”
“Get out.”
Ignoring her, he said, “I suppose you were. You’re not working from a script any longer. That changed when you learned he was married. I don’t know what your play is about now. It occurred to me that you were going to ask me to kill the wife. I wasn’t sure what I would do if it came to that. It would have been an interesting exercise because she’s never alone. I would have had to kill the child, too. Mrs. Shepard is either with her younger daughter or with her husband. I don’t think you would want me to murder Mr. Shepard, so it would have to be the child. I admit that gave me pause.”
Victorine stared at him. “I didn’t ask you to kill anyone.”
“I know. I said it was only a thought that occurred to me. Why did you show so little interest in his new family?”
“Can we not have this conversation in the sitting room? The water is getting cold.”
“Oh? How can you tell?” He gave her a moment to let the insult sink in. Sitting there in the tub with her pale skin and the white towel on her head, she did indeed put him in mind of an iceberg. “No, here is fine for conversation, but we can quickly move it along if you answer my question.”
“I simply had no interest in her or her brats. Is that so difficult to understand?”
“It is actually. Do you recall the gown you purchased from Mrs. Fish? Ice blue. It’s probably hanging in your wardrobe now.”
“What about it?”
“She did most of the work on it. Not Mrs. Fish. Mrs. Shepard. She’s a seamstress. Highly regarded for her hand stitching. I’ve wondered whether she knew she was making it for you. Have you checked it for pins?”
“It is long past the point where you’ve forgotten yourself, Mr. Cabot. You should leave.”
“I am deaf to that tune. Hum ‘The Band Played On’ again.I like that one.” He chuckled under his breath when she splashed water at him. He didn’t bother to pick up a towel and dry his face. “Haven’t you asked yourself if Mr. Shepard told her about you? Perhaps you are such a minor annoyance to him that you weren’t worth mentioning. Shall I tell you why I think you finally decided you wanted to meet him again?”
In bored accents, she said, “If you must.”
Martin smiled but it did not reach his eyes. “I think you were prepared to announce in a manner that would be overheard that Mr. Shepard is the father of your child. Perhaps it would humiliate him, although I’m not so sure, but it would have humiliated her. By all accounts, she has tender sensibilities, which you would know if you had asked me about her. I made it my responsibility to find out. Regardless of what you knew or didn’t know, her humiliation was what you wanted. You desired a state of mind that you hoped would cause a rift. He would leave her and return to you. If it worked, you could count yourself as very clever, but the odds that itwouldwork are not in your favor. Time, for one thing, is not on your side. For another, I’ve heard it said that Mr. Shepard is persuasive. I believe it was his minister who told me he could sing the birds out of their nests. Did you know that within days of his arrival, he organized a town meeting to discuss the rail project and had everyone eating out of his hand?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m sorry. I thought it obvious. He has the ability to explain you away. He can dismiss you. His wife, who loves him according to the wags, will forgive him. You will be out in the cold, no worse off than when you arrived except that you will know you’ve failed. I shouldn’t think that would set well with you.”
“You don’t know anything about me, or him for that matter. The wags that you cozy up to for your information like to hear themselves talk, so you have that in common.”
Martin went on as if she hadn’t spoken. He could see her skin was prickling with the cold. “You were angry when he didn’t appear at the library. You decided, rather impulsively I imagine, to walk to his home. I followed and was impressed that you found it. Apparently you did pay attention to some things I told you. You had to know there was a chance that hewould not be there, but you had no reason to suspect that his wife would also be gone.”
Victorine’s ice blue eyes narrowed on Martin’s unexceptional face. “Why didn’t you tell me thatshewas working there?”
“You didn’t ask,” he said simply. “I gave you every opportunity.”
