The Curse of the Singing Wolf (33 page)

The Countess joined him a few
minutes later. She looked calm and in control and it unnerved him
more. What the hell was going on?

“How’s your manservant?” he
asked first up, sounding slightly dazed, though not from the
physical knock to the head.

“He’s got a bloody nose. He’s
gone to the bathroom to wash his face.”

“Where’s the girl?”

“She’s safe and sound in my
room with my maid. I placed the doll in the bed and padded it up to
make it look like Lalique. I couldn’t risk her waking up at the
wrong moment or even, as you see, getting killed.”

He drew breath for the first
time in what seemed like an age. “Everything happened so fast. I
didn’t even get to see who it was. Who,” he stammered, “who was
it?”

“Desi.”

“Desi!”

The Countess picked up the
lethal blade and studied it. “I think we’ll find this is the
carving knife from the kitchen.”

“But why? Why?” he repeated,
shaking his head in disbelief.

“I’d only be guessing if I
answered that question, though I’m fairly certain I’ve got the
right answer. I’m going to speak to her now.”

“Don’t even dream of unbolting
that door,” he warned sternly, tossing the doll on the bed and
following quickly after her. “Desi’s dangerous, possibly mad.
There’s no saying what murderous rage she’ll unleash the moment she
gets out of that garderobe.”

“I promise not to unbolt the
door. Let me do the talking. She’ll clam up if she knows you’re
listening. You need to keep your trap shut.”

The Countess put her ear to the
door. Within, all was quiet.

“Desi I know you’re in there. I
know you had your reasons for doing what you did. Life can be
cruel. Life was cruel to you. No girl should have had to endure
what you endured.”

Fists pounded on the door and
the voice was choked with hatred. “What do you know! What do you
know! How can you know what I have endured?”

“I know your father and mother
both turned their backs on you. Mine did the same.”

“Liar!” she shouted
convulsively. “Liar!”

“My story could have been
yours. But where I was sold to a good man you were left to cruel
Fate. An orphanage where you were mistreated -”

“The holy sisters of mercy!
Monsters without hearts!”

“A circus where you were abused
and humiliated -”

“I was half-ape half-woman from
the Congo! They put me in a cage so that men could poke sticks at
me and butt their cigarettes on me and laugh.”

The Countess winced and felt
choked with pity. She swallowed hard and forced herself to go on.
“You learned to throw knives in the circus?”

“Yes! Alfonso taught me to
throw knives. He had a pretty assistant, Violetta, who would stand
still while he threw knives at her. I threw a knife at her once. I
got her in the throat. Serves her right for laughing at me! After
that I ran away.”

“You ran to where you knew you
would find your mother?”

“Yes.”

“You got her name from the holy
sisters?”

“Yes.”

“You begged for a job? Did your
mother know who you were?”

“No - not until the night I
came to her room and told her. She called me a liar but I could see
in her eyes she knew it was true. She gave me away. She wanted to
forget me. But she knew I was her flesh and blood. She told me that
when we returned to Biarritz I would have to leave the Hotel Louve.
She told me not to try to blackmail her. She knew what to do with
blackmailers. I strangled her. I put my hands around her throat
and…and…”

“And then you hid the
body?”

“Yes - you will never find
it!”

The Countess knew now was not
the time to press the point. If Desi did not wish to reveal where
she had hidden the body no words would force it out of her. Better
to move on and perhaps come back to the point later.

“You guessed the name of your
father?”

“How do you know?”

“You guessed correctly that you
were conceived the night your mother played Desdemona. You were
named after the tragic heroine. Your father was Iago. That was not
his real name. What was it?”

“Balthazar Brunetti.”

“Of course! The famous Black
Baritone! He was a great singer but not considered handsome enough
for the role of the hero. He took his own life when Otello finished
up. He probably never even knew the Singing Wolf was having his
baby.”

Desi began to sob bitterly and
pound on the door with her fists. “She was selfish! A vain witch! I
hated her! She deserved to die for what she did to me!”

“But you took your revenge -
where did you put her body?”

Desi stopped crying. “Ha!
You’ll never find it!”

The Countess changed tack. “You
killed Milo too – why? He was never cruel. You said you liked
him.”

Desi’s voice sounded thick with
tears again. “I had to kill him. He knew it was me. I didn’t know
he was in the kitchen getting food that night. Inez told me. He had
to die. He was in the woodshed throwing his knife. We had a
competition to see who was the best knife-thrower. He was good but
I was better. I threw it at his heart. I never miss. It was me who
killed the bandit. Milo’s hands were still sore and he gave me his
knife. We pretended it was Velazquez because that’s what everyone
thought. Velazquez was proud to look so brave. I didn’t want to
kill Milo. He was the only one who was never cruel to me. He was my
friend but I had to kill him. I had to…”

She began to weep and the
Countess gave her time to mourn her only friend. When the tears had
finally run their course the Countess continued to piece together
the tragic picture.

“Herr von Gunn was cruel – did
he deserve to die too for his cruelty?”

“Yes!” she spat out vehemently.
“He was always speaking to me like I was a dog. I threw the knife
at him. I never miss. I opened the big gate and pulled up the other
gate and dragged him under it and let it down so you would think it
was the gate that killed him. Good riddance to men who are
pigs!”

“What about Lalique? She was
not a man or a pig or cruel. She was your half-sister. Were you
jealous?”

“Yes! Yes! She had been given
everything and I had been given nothing! She had been cherished. I
had been slapped and kicked and caged and burned. She had laughed
while I had been laughed at. She had played while I had toiled. She
had been born pretty while I had been born ugly. She had been
loved…I had not.”

Tears pricked the Countess’s
eyes when she looked beseechingly at Moriarty, her voice was choked
with pity.

“You cannot stay in there
forever, Desi. I am going to open the door this side. You can slip
the bolt on your side and come out when you are ready.”

The Countess freed the bolt and
signalled to Moriarty and Fedir to stand ready to subdue the girl
the moment the door swung back.

“No! No! Never!” Desi screamed
shrilly. “I will die in here!”

They heard a hard grunting
sound as if a huge weight was being lifted, and then a heavy
scraping sound, followed by a massive clang. The Countess wondered
what was happening. There was no way someone Desi’s size would fit
through the lancet window and the stone wall was simply too thick
to break. They waited for a short time but no further sound came.
Moriarty and Fedir put their shoulders to the door and on the third
attempt they burst through when the rusty bolt gave way.

In an instant they understood
where the body of the Singing Wolf had been hidden. The iron grate
that covered the chute was now resting on the floor of the
garderobe. It had in fact never been fixed into the stone. Unlike
the other grates, it had simply sat on a square stone lip. The
south tower was so high off the ground and the steepness of the
cliff so treacherous it was never likely to be breached. The iron
grate had been put in place to stop someone falling to their death,
it was never designed to stop anyone gaining ingress. Wrapped
around one of the iron grids was a thin rusty chain, most likely
stolen from the torture chamber, and at the other end of the chain
was the body of the Singing Wolf. The chain had been concealed by
extra moss and the dangling body had remained hidden because the
chute angled away from the castle wall. The body gave off a vile
stench as it was dragged up and they tried not to gag. Desi was
nowhere to be seen but they knew if they searched the ground at the
base of the cliff they would find her remains. She had hoisted up
the iron grate using brute strength and jumped to her death.

Human tragedy has a way of
leaving one mentally drained and emotionally numb. Countess
Volodymyrovna, Moriarty and Fedir left the body of the Singing Wolf
on the floor of the garderobe and removed themselves to their
respective beds, utterly exhausted. There would be time tomorrow to
deal with the aftermath.

The Countess asked Moriarty not
to mention anything about the events of the previous evening during
breakfast while Lalique was present. The inexplicable disappearance
of Desi would be treated as yet another mystery for the duration of
the meal. Straight after breakfast Xenia and Fedir took Lalique for
a walk along the ramparts on the pretext of showing her the view
from Chanteloup which she had never before seen from such dizzy
heights. It gave the Countess the chance to summon the old couple
into the great hall where the three men had gathered along with Dr
Watson.

Moriarty knew what she would
say, but even he would be surprised by her reasoning.

She dealt matter-of-factly with
the events in the order that they happened: the disappearance of
the Singing Wolf, murdered by Desi, the abandoned daughter whose
life had been unbearably cruel. The mistaken belief of Velazquez
who presumed one of the men had killed the Singing Wolf, and his
morbid apprehension, fuelled by liquor, that he would eventually be
killed too and who thus ran to his death. The murder of Milo in the
woodshed by Desi because he had heard someone on the spiral stairs
and knew that Desi was not in her bed when she said she was, nor in
the dairy room as Inez believed, and that it could only have been
Desi in the south tower that fateful night. And finally the death
of Herr von Gunn, who had spoken harshly to Desi once too often and
thus signed his own death warrant.

The moral ring fence that stops
most people from murdering those who are perhaps deserving of death
had been breached the first night they arrived at Chanteloup, and
once that barrier had been broken and the first murder had been
committed the rest was almost inevitable.

The old couple returned to the
kitchen weeping for their dead mistress. Their future was uncertain
and the future of Lalique, whom they dearly loved, also hung in the
balance. As soon as they departed, Inez entered as she had been
instructed. She was wearing the black leather costume and it fit
almost like a glove for she was of similar size and shape to the
Singing Wolf, though not as tall.

“Gentlemen,” announced the
Countess, “I give you Sarazan. Not Inez, of course, but the Singing
Wolf as she would have appeared with her brigands. It is my belief
there never was any Cathar loot to be found at Chanteloup. It was a
convenient and romantic tale put about by the Singing Wolf to
disguise the fact she earned her wealth through brigandage. The day
we were ambushed we were a large party and her fellow outlaws did
not immediately recognize that she was with our group. Once they
realized their mistake they backed off.”

“Then why attack us at the
gate?” expostulated Reichenbach.

“I think they were angry that
several of their group had been shot
after
they backed off.
They may have been wondering what was going on. They may have been
trying to force a confrontation with their boss. There were only
eight of them at the gate so they may even have splintered off and
formed a rival group of outlaws.”

The men conferred amongst
themselves and agreed that such a scenario was possible.

Inez returned to change back
into her own clothes and the men went up to the south tower to
inspect the garderobe and confirm that the dead body was indeed
that of the Singing Wolf. A short time later they returned to the
great hall.

“A sad business,” sighed
Reichenbach, summing up what they were all feeling. “What about the
girl? We need to make a decision before we leave, gentlemen.”

“I cannot accept
responsibility,” said Prince Orczy flatly. “I have no formal
residence and I am currently short of funds.”

“My situation is less than
ideal,” admitted Moriarty. “My family seat is not fit for purpose,
renovations could take another twelve months or more, and I am
hardly ever home as it is. It is up to you to step up Reichenbach.
Otherwise the girl stays here. We can all contribute to her
up-bringing but that is about it.”

The Prussian ran his vivid blue
eye over the great hall of Chanteloup, an ancient fortress steeped
in grisly history and where so many recent murders had taken place.
“The girl will go with me. I have an unmarried sister who lives
permanently at my summer villa on Lac Lucerne. She can take charge
of the girl’s up-bringing. I will recognize the girl as my ward. I
will not ask for any contribution, gentlemen. If you choose to make
an endowment, so be it. I will employ Inez as nursery governess for
the time being and see how that works out.”

“The Singing Wolf may have left
a Last Will and Testament,” suggested Dr Watson optimistically.
“Lalique might be her only beneficiary.”

“Mmm,” murmured Reichenbach
doubtfully, “it is my belief those who are young and fearless
regard themselves as immortal. I anticipate there will be no
Will.”

By midday the last of the rocks
had been cleared and the village servants poured into Chanteloup.
They were followed by a small regiment of French troops who had
been alerted to the threat of brigands in the area by the Bogomil
boys. The commander took charge of the dead bodies once he had been
apprised of events. Straight after lunch the little party of
travellers from Biarritz were free to leave, escorted by several
armed soldiers as a matter of precaution. The old couple wept
bitterly and Reichenbach promised to return with the girl for a
visit next spring.