Wait Until Midnight

NINE

She had done it, Caroline thought, rather dazed by her own boldness. She had taken advantage of her status as a widow to climb into the carriage, and now she was sitting here sharing the vehicle's intimate confines with the most fascinating man she had ever met in her life.

It was unfortunate that the topic of conversation was to be murder.

She gave Adam an inquiring look, trying to act blasé, as though she was accustomed to riding through the streets of London with a gentleman.

"The rumors were correct, it seems," Adam said. He lounged in the corner, one leg outstretched, an arm braced on the window frame. "There was certainly no love lost between Irene Toller and Elizabeth Delmont."

"No, indeed" Caroline forced herself to concentrate on

what she had observed at the demonstration. "Mrs. Toller made no secret of the fact that she feels justice was done."

Adam raised a brow. "I doubt if there was any justice involved, but regardless of the motive, Mrs. Delmont's skull was not crushed by manifestations from the Other Side. I cannot imagine that any self-respecting spirit would use something as mundane as a fireplace poker to commit murder."

Caroline shuddered. "I agree. That sort of violence is all too human, is it not?"

He meditated on the busy street scene. "Toller obviously possesses strong feelings about her dead rival. She may know something of the murder."

"It did occur to me that Mrs. Toller may have killed Mrs. Delmont. Professional rivalry is no doubt a very powerful motivation."

"I do not deny that." His eyes tightened faintly at the corners. "But the thing that interests me the most at the moment was what was not reported in the press."

"Did you see the papers this morning? They covered the crime in great detail. They all mentioned the overturned furniture and the watch that was stopped at midnight."

"Those were the least of the bizarre elements I found at the scene," he said quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"When I found Elizabeth Delmont, she was lying faceup on the carpet of her séance room. Someone, presumably the killer, had placed a wedding veil over her face. It was soaked with her blood."

She stared at him, shocked. "Good heavens."

"In addition, a black enameled mourning brooch had been left on the bodice of Delmont's gown. On the reverse side of the brooch there was a twist of blond hair and a small photograph of a young, fair-haired woman dressed as a bride."

"You say the brooch was placed on Mrs. Delmont's person? Not pinned to her gown?"

He shook his head. "It appeared to have been positioned very carefully on the body, just as the veil was."

Caroline folded her arms, hugging herself against the strange chill that his words had sent through her. "Bizarre is, indeed, the right word. The veil and the mourning brooch imply a very personal sort of murder. It certainly does not sound like the work of a housebreaker or a burglar."

"Nor does it sound like the actions of someone who killed Delmont simply to acquire the diary," he admitted, obviously reluctant to abandon that notion. "I cannot envision a potential blackmailer taking the trouble to create such a dramatic scene."

"Unless he wished to throw the police off the trail by making the murder appear to be the work of someone who had a personal reason for killing Elizabeth Delmont," she suggested.

He gave her a long, cool, assessing look. "That, Mrs. Fordyce, is a very interesting possibility. Distraction is the oldest trick in the world. Someone might well have stolen the diary and then deliberately left a variety of clues pointing in another direction. But if that is the case, why was there no mention of them in the papers?"

"Your problem would seem to be even more complicated than it appeared at the start. What do you intend to do next?"

"I would very much like to learn more about Irene Toller. Her intense dislike of Delmont makes her an excel-lent suspect, to my way of thinking. But I doubt that she will respond helpfully to direct questions, especially if she has something to hide."

"You believe that she would lie to you?"

"I am more concerned that she will pack her bags and disappear if she thinks that she has been found out," he said. "I do not want to scare her off until I know for certain whether or not she is involved in this affair."

"What will you do?"

"If she is the one who killed Elizabeth Delmont and stole the diary, it is likely that she has the journal hidden somewhere in her house," he mused. "I believe my next step is to conduct a search of the premises."

She unfolded her arms very quickly. "You intend to break into her house? Good heavens, you cannot take such a risk, sir. If she has already killed once, she will not hesitate to do so again."

He appeared bemused by her protest. Then a strangely quizzical expression darkened his eyes. "Are you worried about my safety, Mrs. Fordyce?"

"I am merely trying to inject some common sense into your plan"

"A pity. For a moment, I dared to entertain the hope that you were concerned for my well-being."

"I do not appreciate being teased, Mr. Hardesty. Now, then, if you are determined upon this venture, would it not make more sense to at least learn something about the plan of the house before you break into it? Having some prior knowledge of that sort would enable you to conduct a more efficient search."

He gave her a speculative look. "What do you suggest?"

"You could schedule a séance," she said, thinking quickly. "Mrs. Toller made it obvious today that she was attempting to use her public demonstrations to promote her private business."

'What an imaginative notion." His brows rose. "Brilliant, in fact. Entering the house for the purpose of a séance would not only give me an opportunity to look around, it might provide me with other information about Toller as well. Do you know, something tells me that having a sensation novelist for a consultant in this affair is going to prove extremely useful."

His slow smile was as sensual and thrillingly intimate as it was unexpected. It transformed his appearance, giving her a brief glimpse of the complex man beneath the enigmatic façade that he presented to the world.

It also flustered her. She struggled to regain her composure.

"I must accompany you, of course," she said, trying to ignore the fluttery sensations in her stomach.

His smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. The re-mote, cryptic expression returned.

"I do not think that will be necessary"

"I disagree, sir," she said as forcefully as she could manage. "My presence will help allay any suspicions Mrs. Toller might have."

"What suspicions could she possibly entertain? Mrs. Toller and I have never met. Even if she does possess the diary and even if she is aware that a gentleman named Adam Hardesty is a potential target for blackmail, how could she recognize me as her intended victim?"

"She might have seen you at the demonstration today."

He moved one hand in an uninterested motion. "If she did, she will only know me as Mr. Grove, just as Reed and Elsworth do. Irene Toller is in the business of giving séances. I will be just another client as far as she is concerned.^"

Obviously she would have to come up with another argument to convince him that he must include her in his plan. She had no intention of allowing him to pursue his inquiries

without her. Tread cautiously, she warned herself. Adam Hardesty would not appreciate any attempts to manipulate him. But manipulate him, she must.

She cleared her throat. "No offense, sir, but there is, shall we say, a certain aspect about you that might well make Mrs. Toller—" She paused, searching for a diplomatic word to finish the sentence. None came to mind. "Uneasy."

His jaw hardened. ^"Why the devil should I make her uneasy?"

She thought about taking out the small mirror in her pocket and letting him have a look at his fierce expression, but in the next moment, she decided against that tactic. He was unlikely to see what others saw when they looked at him.

Stick with logic and reason, she thought. Those were the tools she must employ if she hoped to prod Adam Hardesty into doing what she wanted him to do.

"If Irene Toller does, indeed, possess some knowledge of the murder, she will be on her guard," she said, striving for patience. "If, on the other hand, she is innocent of any knowledge of the crime, the murder of another medium will likely have made her quite nervous. I would not be surprised if she refuses all requests for sittings from strangers for a time. I would, if I were in her shoes."

"Would you?"

"Most certainly," she assured him.

He did not bother to conceal his skepticism of that statement. Nevertheless, she could see that he was giving her words some close thought.

"Are you acquainted with Toller?" he asked finally. She was making progress, she told herself.

"We have not been introduced but I'm sure she will know who I am because I have been in Wintersett House several times recently to conduct my research. As you just witnessed in the case of Mr. Reed and Mr. Elsworth, my activities are no secret among the members of the Society for Psychical Investigations."

There was a wry edge to the curve of his mouth. "In other words, your name might be just what I need for an entrée to Irene Toller's house; is that it?"

"I do not think that it would seem odd to her if I re-quested a sitting. In fact, I might very well have done so in the normal course of events."

He contemplated that for a moment longer. Then he straightened in his seat and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.

"Very well, Mrs. Fordyce," he said in his midnight voice. "If you can arrange a séance with Irene Toller, we shall attend it together."

Relieved at having achieved her objective, she gave him an approving smile. "I will send a note to Mrs. Toller immediately. I'm sure there will be no difficulty."

"Will I be allowed to hold your hand?" he asked. She froze. "I beg your pardon?"

He drew the curtains closed across the carriage windows with a few swift, efficient motions, plunging the interior into intimate shadow. He reached out and caught hold of her hand.

"I was under the impression that sitters at a séance often join hands." His fingers tightened gently around hers. "Something to do with strengthening or centering the power of the medium, I believe"

She looked down at his large, strong fingers and discovered that she could scarcely breathe. He was so very close. "Yes, well, that is the usual explanation," she managed.

"There are some who claim that mediums insist that every-one hold hands because that way a skeptical sitter is less likely to strike a light at an inopportune time or try to grab a spirit manifestation."

"And thereby expose the medium's tricks," he concluded. "Precisely."

"I shall look forward to holding your hand at the séance, Mrs. Fordyce"

She could not move. She did not want to move.

He held her transfixed with some invisible force while he slowly, deliberately raised her hand to his mouth. Turning her fingers palm up, he eased the green glove down just far enough to expose the exquisitely sensitive inside of her wrist.

She stopped breathing altogether.

When he kissed the place where her pulse beat so swiftly, she thought she would fall apart into a million tiny fireworks.

"Mr. Hardesty," she whispered.

He raised his head but he did not release her hand. "Call me Adam"

`Adam." She tasted the name on her tongue and discovered for the first time in her life the exotic flavors of fire and ice.

He smiled as though the sound of his name on her lips pleased him. Then he leaned a little closer. She realized with shock that he was going to kiss her right on her mouth. Before she could deal with the monumental implications of the situation, his lips closed over hers and the world around her dissolved into mist.

A euphoric feeling welled up inside her; delight, excitement, curiosity and anticipation mingled, making her light-headed. Dazzled, she put her hands on his shoulders to brace herself. When she touched him, he made a harsh, urgent sound deep in his throat, gripped her shoulders and pulled her hard against his chest.

He deepened the kiss until she could no longer think; until she was lost amid a tumult of powerful sensations.

The well-sprung carriage clattered to a halt. Adam reluctantly eased her away from him, sat back against the cushions and opened the curtains.

"We appear to have arrived at your address." He gave her a heart-stoppingly intimate look. "I can only regret that the journey did not take a good deal longer."

She did not know what to say to that so she looked out the window instead. Two figures stood on the doorstep. They, in turn, were staring at her in openmouthed astonishment.

She was instantly jolted back to reality.

"Oh, dear," she murmured. "This may prove to be a trifle difficult for you, sir."

Adam studied the pair on the step. "Your aunts, I presume?"

"I'm afraid so"

He reached for the door handle. "I told you that I am considered to be quite respectable. Surely they will not object to me bringing you home."

"The problem is that they will insist on inviting you in for a cup of tea."

"Excellent. I could do with a cup of tea."

"Wait, you don't understand," she said. "It won't be just the tea. There will be questions. A lot of them."

He smiled his mysterious smile and got out of the vehicle. "I don't mind a few questions," he said. "As it happens, I have a few of my own."