A Murder at Rosamund's Gate - By Susanna Calkins Page 0,107

was easy enough,” Lucas boasted. He reminded Lucy of one of her mother’s old cocks, strutting about the stone catacombs as if he were king of the hens. His leer disgusted her, yet she could not tear herself away.

“She was quite easy to dispatch. They always are, you see. They expect to see their lovers, of course, but I am their trusted confidante. They allow me to comfort them. They allow me to come”—he licked his lips—“close. You can imagine how angry I was when I realized she had not actually packed everything as I told her to do. And she wore that silly dress! I had to sneak into the room you two shared and pack her satchel, hoping my memory would serve me right. I hid it out back, and then ’twas easy enough to take it to St. Peter’s later.”

“That’s why my petticoat and stockings were missing,” Lucy said slowly. “I could never understand why she took them.”

“Yes, well, she didn’t,” Lucas replied. “My only regret, of course, is that her death hurt you. I did not want to hurt you, Lucy, you must believe that! Since Will was your brother, too, I felt slight remorse over what I had to do. Then I remembered their Philistine ways and I knew I was the trumpet and instrument of the Lord, completing what needed to be done. I was ever so surprised and, to be truthful, somewhat glad, when Adam came under suspicion first. Adam!”

Lucas laughed, the sound echoing oddly throughout the lifeless catacombs. “Even better! Your precious Will would not be injured, and Adam could be punished for the impure thoughts he harbored toward you! For sure, I thought the blood from the ring would prove him guilty, but, of course, that was not to occur. So I renewed my efforts against Will, knowing that it was God’s command that he be smited by the mighty hand of earthly justice.”

“You’re mad!” Lucy cried. “A lunatic!” She spat on the ground. “Monster!”

Lucas turned back. She could see no trace of her old friend on his harsh countenance. “Such ugly words from such pretty lips. Not to despair, my dear, your body will soon match the ugliness of those words you just hurled upon me, when I am through with you.”

He advanced toward her, and she flinched. Behind him, Adam was trying to tell her something. He wanted her to keep Lucas talking, until they could figure a way out. She tried a different tack, trying to sound admiring. “What about Richard? Did you pay him to say those lies?”

The crazed look that so chilled her vanished for a moment. Lucas laughed as if she were a favorite pupil who had pleased him. He reached a hand down to smooth her hair. She accepted the caress, trying not to flinch.

“Richard, that idiot,” he said pleasantly. “A weak mind, to be sure. I only had to buy him a few pints and I, shall we say, persuaded him to remember the story a slightly different way. Then those wretched Quakers got to him.” He sniffed. “Convinced him to see the light or some such nonsense. Worked over his conscience, I’ve heard. What a crock! When he recanted his story, I was quite annoyed, I must say.” He shrugged. “I had taken other precautions, but, it seems, not enough to convince the jury.”

Seeing the strange light return to Lucas’s face, Lucy sought desperately to keep him talking. “Other precautions?” she asked.

“The orange seller, of course.”

Lucy thought back. “Maggie didn’t show up to testify at Will’s trial. She had said she would, that she could prove Will had been with her. I didn’t believe her, though—but I told you I might pay for her testimony.” She stared at him in horror.

“Exactly. When you told me that, I knew I had to make quick riddance of her as well.”

Lucy stared at him. “You killed her, too?”

Lucas laughed fondly. “Well, yes. What had been done to her was never discovered, as far as I know. I strangled her quickly that night, near her home, and dumped her body. St. Giles, you know. So much deadly sickness there, I don’t think the carters thought too much about another body lying in a ditch. She looked, no doubt, to be just another unfortunate soul caught up in the early days of the great sickness. An early victim of the plague, as it turned out.”

The faint din from above was growing louder, and now they could hear