The Curse of the Singing Wolf (30 page)

“I beg to differ,” said the
Countess.

The men had forgotten she was
still in the great hall.

While she attempted to lecture
them in the plainest of voices on the theory of heredity they lit
up cigars and helped themselves to some cognac. It provided a
breather and helped to calm them down.

“You may be familiar with the
work of the Augustinian friar, Gregor Mendel, if not I will
enlighten you. His work on pea plants, published in 1866, was
notable for its application to the theory of heredity. He followed
in the footsteps of the early hybridizers such as Linnaeus,
Kolreuter, von Gartner, Naudin and Sagaret.”

“I’m familiar with Linnaeus,”
said the Baron.

“Shut up,” snapped Moriarty,
“and we might all learn something new.”

The Countess continued.
“Notably, it was Sagaret who first established the theory of
dominant and recessive inheritance, noting that an ancestral
characteristic found in neither parent can be found in an
offspring. Mendel expanded on the theme and went on to show that
inherited traits obey scientific rules.”

“Yes, but we are not interested
in pea plants,” pointed out von Gunn. “We are dealing with human
traits.”

“I’m getting to that.
Scientific evidence has progressed to include human traits. It is
scientifically impossible for two blue-eyed parents to have a
brown-eyed child. Blue eyes are recessive. Brown eyes are dominant.
However, a brown-eyed parent may have a blue-eyed child because the
blue-eyed trait may have been carried by the ancestor which did not
appear in, but still existed in, the brown-eyed parent, and so was
passed to the offspring. In other words, you, gentlemen, are
blue-eyed but the Singing Wolf was brown-eyed - if she had blue
eyes in her ancestry and was carrying that trait, though she did
not show it, it is possible for her to have a blue-eyed child.”

Prince Orczy was the first to
catch on. “I see it in terms of gambling. Brown is dominant, brown
wins; blue is recessive, blue loses; for blue to win there must be
two blues together, even if the blue is cheating, meaning it is
hiding behind a brown.”

“Exactly,” smiled the Countess,
“and it is the same with hair colour. Brown is dominant. Blond is
recessive. Two blond parents cannot produce and brown haired child.
They have only their blondness to pass on. But two brown haired
parents can produce a blond child if they had blondeness in their
ancestral chain, though it did not show up in either parent. The
blondeness can hide behind the brown. You, gentlemen, are blond,
the Singing Wolf was dark haired. If she was carrying a blond trait
from an ancestor, though it did not show up in her, she could have
produced a blonde haired child.”

The men did not speak. They
were absorbing the scientific information and the near-certain
probability that one of them had fathered Lalique.

“Having said all that,”
continued the Countess. “I think it is obvious that the Singing
Wolf selected the four of you not for the colour of your hair and
eyes, but because approximately six and a half years ago she was
sleeping with you at the time. I think that would be the first
prerequisite, gentlemen.”

“Not me!” denied the
Prussian.

“Cow shit!” It was Moriarty
again. “I know for a fact you were her lover at the time because
she was open and honest about that sort of thing and she told me to
my face one night as she was leaving my bed that she was going to
yours!”

Prince Orczy laughed throatily.
“And I know for a fact that six and half years ago she was visiting
my bed too!”

“And mine!” admitted the German
reluctantly.

“All right! All right!”
conceded the Prussian. “I was her lover about six and a half years
ago as well.”

“That settles it, gentlemen,”
Moriarty stated unequivocally. “One of us fathered that girl.”

The Countess sighed. “But which
one?”

“My head is about to explode,”
said von Gunn, patting his throbbing egg. “I’m going for a walk on
the ramparts.”

“I’ll join you,” said the
Prince, grabbing another cigar from the humidor.

“I’ll bring in the horses and
donkeys,” volunteered the Baron. “Do you want to come?” he directed
at the Irishman.

Moriarty shook his head. “Not
right now.” He waited until the others had disappeared and he was
alone with the Countess. “That was a very impressive lecture. I
haven’t heard anything like that since my brother tried to explain
his treatise on binomial theorem to a roomful of starry-eyed
boffins. One word of advice, you’ll never snag a husband if you go
about lecturing men. Men don’t like to feel stupid.”

“
Tant pis!
A husband is
the last thing I want to snag. Besides, if a man cannot keep up
with my brain he is never going to satisfy my body. Excuse me,
s’il vous plait
, I’m going to check on Dr Watson.”

She got as far as the tapestry
before he snagged her arm, pushed her roughly up against the wall
and delivered a stunning kiss.

“What were you trying to prove
with that?” she said icily when he allowed her to come up for
air.

“Nothing, I just felt like
doing it.”

“And this is something I just
feel like doing.”

The slap to his face left him
stinging.

Dr Watson was sitting up in
bed. A healthier hue had replaced the green-grey gills and his eyes
were no longer bloodshot. It was time to apprise him of the latest
development called Lalique.

“Brace yourself,” she warned
after enquiring how he was feeling then cutting him off halfway
through his response, not because she didn’t care, but because she
was angry with the Irishman and it was affecting her empathy.

“Not another murder?” he said
tensely.

“No, no, thank goodness, I
think we are done with death.”

“Have you solved the
disappearance of our hostess?” he said hopefully, praying it was
the work of Moriarty and that’s why she was pacing the hearth like
a caged tigress, unhappy to admit her lover was a ruthless
criminal.

“No, unfortunately I am no
closer to solving that mystery. It is something that may never be
solved, well, not in our lifetime anyway. I have come to inform you
that the elusive phantom does actually exist. I found her this
morning hiding in a secret compartment behind the mirror in the
bathroom in the south tower. She is five years old and goes by the
name Lalique.”

“I’d laugh but you sound
serious.”

“Quite. The girl is sleeping in
my room as we speak, having an afternoon nap. I didn’t want you to
arrive in the great hall and think you were seeing visions.”

“Have the others seen her?”

“Yes, the girl joined us for
lunch.”

“Where did she come from?”

“She lives here at Chanteloup.
This is her home. She is the daughter of the Singing Wolf. Almaric
and Hortense are charged with caring for her year round. When the
Singing Wolf vanished the old couple became worried and hid the
girl. She is charming, precocious, spoilt and very pretty. Her
presence has explained a lot but not everything.”

“Such as?”

“The Singing Wolf does not know
who fathered her child. She must have narrowed it down to the four
men she contrived to lure to Chanteloup, hence the fire in the
kitchen at the Hotel Louve. She made advance preparations for the
four men to meet Lalique. Lalique knew she was going to meet her
maman’s four friends. She was given a new dress and new slippers to
mark the occasion. I don’t quite understand how the Singing Wolf
expected to determine the father, since all four men were sleeping
with her at the time of conception.”

He grunted disapprovingly.
“Hmph, that’s what comes when morality goes out the window.”

“As it did for my father and
mother?” she said coldly.

He’d completely forgotten about
Sherlock and
That Woman
. It was damn difficult to lecture
her on morality in such a case. He forced himself to remain
objective. “Perhaps she was hoping one of the men would recognize a
family trait and do the honourable thing.”

“Well, it’s interesting you
should say that. Are you familiar with Mendelian Inheritance?”

“His book on pea plants?”

“I was thinking of its
application to inherited traits in humans.”

“Go on,” he invited
dubiously.

“All four men are blond and
blue-eyed, as is Lalique, whereas the Singing Wolf was brown-eyed
and dark haired. The men were disputing the child could be hers. I
explained to them about dominant and recessive traits.”

He smiled to himself. “Did they
comprehend the science?”

“I think so. The existence of
the girl has shocked them. I think they accept one of them has
fathered the girl but they don’t know what to do about it,
especially as the Singing Wolf is no longer around to confirm or
deny anything. I just thought I should explain things to you before
you joined us for dinner. You may find the dinner table
conversation a little strange and the men flummoxed.”

“Well, that will make a change.
They are an arrogant bunch. Did you say the girl will be present
too?”

“Yes.”

“I might get up now. I want to
take a look at Milo’s body. Where was it taken?”

“To the cellar.”

“I want to look at the stiletto
too.”

“Baron Reichenbach has it.”

“What? It should be with the
body so that the gendarmes can hand it to the police surgeon or the
Surete. It may not even be the murder weapon.”

“It was sticking out of his
chest when the body was discovered,” she reminded.

He rolled his eyes. “And you
call yourself a consulting detective. You should know better.
Verify all facts.”

She stopped pacing and slapped
the side of her head. “You’re right. I’ve been stupid.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.
At least you found the phantom.” He refrained from asking what she
was doing in the bathroom of the south tower, mainly because
embarrassment had a way of rebounding and in the end he would be
the one to turn bright red.

“Mmm,” she muttered. “I wonder
if the existence of the girl puts Velazquez’s testimony in a
different light.”

“How so?”

“Well, Velazquez said he heard
heavy breathing and panting coming from the south tower as if the
Singing Wolf was entertaining a man in her bed which I assumed
might be Sarazan or even Velazquez, but the girl told me she slept
in her mother’s bed whenever her mother came to Chanteloup.
Moriarty and I even conducted an experiment of heavy breathing to
verify whether the sound would carry down stairs. Xenia was
listening at the landing. But now I’m wondering if -”

“Say that again.”

“Now I’m wondering if the girl
may have been with her mother that night.”

“Yes, er, yes, that’s a natural
assumption to make. Sometimes it takes time for assumptions to
catch up with us. We make an assumption based on what we understand
at the time only to find out later that we have been mistaken.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I might
have to rethink the black leather costume. I assumed it belonged to
Sarazan and he was a regular visitor to the south tower but it
might just be an opera costume after all. And speaking of costumes
- the red and gold dress has been puzzling me. No one likes to
think badly of children but I wonder if Lalique slashed it to
punish her maman for her long absences or for inexplicably
vanishing and spoiling the happy occasion she was expecting when
the four male visitors arrived. I’ll need to think about it some
more. See you at dinner.”

Lalique looked as fragile as a
glass angel, a china doll with vibrant yellow hair that curled out
like a shimmering aureole across the pillow. The Countess sat at
the side of the bed and listened to her soft breathing,
contemplating the maternal instinct. If such a thing was inherited
along with eye colour and hair colour her chance of having
inherited it was unlikely. Neither of her parents had been cut out
for parenthood. That’s not to say they would not have loved her
unreservedly, but they would have loved other things more. She
might have been the one sleeping in this bed with a stranger
looking down at her, fondly yet sadly; a collection of unknown
fathers to choose from and an absent mother who had vanished into
thin air. What mother would wish that on a child?

Who would love this child? Who
would care for her now?

Prince Orczy had no place to
call home, just a string of hotels, and no money either. He moved
from one gaming salon to another, one step ahead of his creditors.
Moriarty had no habitable family seat as yet and a dubious career
as what? A speculator? A Fenian? A hired assassin? Not much of a
life for a little girl, being dragged from one kill to another. Von
Gunn had twelve castles and plenty of money, but that just meant
the girl would have more places in which to feel truly lonely.
Reichenbach was the oldest of the men, a confirmed bachelor, but
did he really want to take on the up-bringing of a girl-child at
this stage in his life? But what was the alternative? Leave the
girl here in this isolated stronghold to be raised by Almaric and
Hortense? Children needed the company of other children. They
needed playmates. The girl had reached an age where she would soon
need a proper governess and decent tutors. Who would employ them?
Who would supervise them? Who would look out for her best
interests?

“Hello.”

Lalique yawned and stretched
and smiled drowsily. “Is it time for dinner?”

“Nearly, I just want to ask you
one question before you get dressed.”

“Is it about maman?”

“Yes, I was wondering if you
slept in the big bed the night your maman arrived with her
friends?”

Lalique shook her head. “No, I
was already tucked into my cot. Maman came down to the little room
and kissed me and told me I needed to stay in the cot until she
came back to get me. She told me she was busy with her visitors and
that I would need to be patient a little longer. She said she was
saving the grand surprise for the next day. She promised she would
come to get me later in the night and take me to her big bed but
she never came back. I waited and waited but she did not come.”