murder and extortion.”
“Everyone is capable of murder under the right circumstances.” He paused, evidently thinking about the second part of her statement. “And most likely extortion, as well. As I said, it all depends on circumstances.”
She stopped smiling. “You have a very cynical view of human nature, Mr. Gage.”
“I prefer to think of it as a realistic view,” he said. “But in this case, I am certain you are not the killer.”
“Indeed? How can you be so sure of that?”
“There are a number of reasons. The first is that I read the doctor’s autopsy report. It was well done because Fleming’s death was something of a sensation at the time.”
Beatrice shook her head. “All that nonsensical speculation in the press about how he might have been murdered by forces from the Other Side. It was maddening.”
“Fleming operated a business named The Academy of the Occult,” Joshua said, his tone very dry. “It seems only natural that after he was murdered the press would go wild with speculation about spirits and paranormal forces.”
“The press, perhaps, but I expected better of the police,” she said. “I will admit they did not attribute his death to ghosts, but they focused their attention on me, instead.”
“The missing assistant, yes. You must admit they had good reason to do so. It was only logical to assume that you were the killer. You were the mystery woman in the affair. No one had ever seen your face because of your costume.”
“Roland thought the veil and the widow’s weeds added a certain drama to the demonstrations,” she said. “He also felt I would be safer that way. He said there were always a few strange people in any audience for a paranormal performance. He was afraid I might attract a deranged individual.”
Joshua nodded with a very serious air. “A wise precaution.”
“In the end, that is what happened. The man who stabbed poor Roland was just such a madman, someone who had fixated on me. Roland died trying to protect me.”
Joshua’s expression was almost feral. “Are you certain of that?”
“There is no doubt. The man who killed Roland came for me. I heard him vow to hunt me down. That is the main reason why I had to disappear.”
“A man with an unwholesome fascination for a woman he believes to have psychical powers kills the man who is in his way and then steals his victim’s blackmail stash and proceeds to exploit the secrets?” Joshua thought about that. “It’s possible.”
“It’s the only explanation that makes any sense,” she said, exasperated.
“Huh.”
She studied him for a long moment. “What was it in the autopsy report that convinced you I was not the killer?”
“Roland Fleming was a large man. The wound was high on his chest. The force and angle of the thrust indicate that the killer was tall, powerful and, most likely, an expert with a knife. Either that or he was extremely fortunate in his first attempt. Regardless, you are a rather small and delicately made woman. If you had used a knife, the wound would have looked much different. Actually, you probably wouldn’t have taken the risk of using a knife in the first place. In my experience, women prefer more tidy approaches to that sort of thing. Poison, for example.”
She was shaken by the cold, methodical manner in which he had analyzed the crime.
“Good grief,” she said. She took a deep breath. “Evidently you’ve had considerable experience with this sort of thing.”
He looked at her with his bird-of-prey eyes, not speaking.
“If you had already concluded that I wasn’t the killer, why did you try to frighten me with your suspicions?” she demanded.
“My apologies,” he said. “I knew that you were not the killer, but what I did not know—and still don’t know—is the nature of your connection to the killer.”
She froze. “I don’t have a connection to him.”
“That you know of,” he corrected quietly.
“For heaven’s sake, why would you think I am linked to a murderer?”
His eyes tightened at the corners. “There is something about this case that makes me think that everything is connected, including you and the assassin.”
“Assassin?”
“I believe whoever murdered Fleming was a professional who was very likely working for a fee that night.”
“Then there is someone else involved.”
“I think so, yes. I am looking for two people—the assassin and his employer. But where do you fit in, Miss Lockwood?”
“I have no earthly idea.”
“Can you describe the killer?”
“Not physically. But I heard his voice. He spoke with a thick Russian accent.” Beatrice paused. “He