by Paula Paul
“Don’t touch me!” Madam Cudney jerked her arm from Nicholas’s grip. “And don’t speak of me and old Elwold in the same breath. Alvina Elwold was the fraud! She was the reason the queen came to this godforsaken village. Heard of her reputation, she said. Supposed to be the most skilled medium in the kingdom, she said, but the queen was wrong, as she often is. I’m the most skilled medium in the kingdom. Didn’t I bring Prince Albert to her?” Madam Cudney was growing more and more frantic. “Here, in the east parlor, just a few days ago? Wouldn’t let me attempt it before. Said it had to be this country woman, Alvina Elwood. But the old fraud died, and the queen was desperate, so I convinced her to allow me to try.”
“Alvina died because you killed her,” Mrs. Pickwick said.
“I did not kill her. As much as I wanted her out of the way, I did not kill her,” Madam Cudney said.
Hannah rushed toward Nicholas. “She’s right! She didn’t kill that woman, and neither did that poor man called Beaty she’s trying to blame. ’Twas Madam Cudney’s son who did the deed.”
“Her son?” Nicholas said.
“She has a son in Newton?” Mrs. Pickwick asked at the same time.
“Aye,” Hannah said in a voice trembling with fear. ’Twas Dunley.”
There was a moment of stunned silence before Nicholas spoke. “You must be mistaken,” he said. “Dunley was employed by my mother for almost five years. He’s never mentioned—”
“He’s her son. She was trying to protect him. He’s a brutal man who—”
“Enough, Hannah!” Madam Cudney said. “I have no son. The child is overwrought.”
“You would let another man take the blame for murder to protect your worthless son?” Hannah said in a voice that had regained strength with her rising anger. She turned toward Nicholas again. “You heard her admit she fancies herself a medium. A circus performer, she is. Just like her son.”
“Circus performer?” Nicholas asked.
“Aye. They both were at one time, only Dunley’s no fraud,” Hannah said. “Can make things disappear before your eyes. Saw it myself, I did. ’Tis the work of that devil he harbors inside him. Does all sorts of tricks with a knife.”
“The child is raving,” Madam Cudney said. “Dr. Gladstone, isn’t there something you can do to help her? Please! Before she goes completely mad and kills us all.”
Before Alexandra could reply, Hannah cried out as she lunged toward Madam Cudney. “ ’Tis your son who killed the poor woman, and you know it.”
In one quick movement, Nicholas grabbed Hannah’s shoulders, restraining her before she could reach Madam Cudney.
“He’s wicked,” Hannah said, struggling to free herself. “He beat me with a rod, and I have the scars on my back to prove it.”
“Hannah,” Alexandra said. “When did you last see Dunley?”
“Just after I arrived in Newton,” Hannah said. “He met me at the station. Wanted to bring me here. But I wouldn’t let him. Hired my own carriage. I’ll stay as far away from him as I can, for fear he would beat me again.”
“You’re lying, Hannah,” Alexandra said. She glanced at Nicholas and gave him a knowing look. “Dunley couldn’t have met you at the station. He’s in gaol. Constable Snow took him into custody last night for the murder of Alvina Elwold, and he has confessed to her murder.”
Madam Cudney gasped.
“What? Wait a minute,” Nicholas said, still holding on to Hannah. He had obviously failed to interpret Alexandra’s earlier meaningful glance. “You were just blaming Madam Cudney. But you already knew Dunley was in gaol?”
“I wanted to be certain it was Dunley and not Madam Cudney who killed him,” Alexandra said.
Alexandra saw the expression on Nicholas’s face change. He had, at last, got her silent message. “So you falsely accused her?” Nicholas said as he let go of Hannah. “I would have never thought you could be so deceitful.”
Alexandra caught the look in his eye and knew he finally understood what she was trying to accomplish. “What does it matter now whether or not I’m deceitful?” she said. “The true killer has been caught, and we know he won’t kill again. With all of the evidence against him, including Hannah’s testimony, he’ll be hanging by his neck before another year passes.”
Nicholas hesitated for a moment, still trying to catch up with Alexandra. “Oh, yes,” he said finally. “I see. You’re right. He won’t kill again, and speaking as an experienced barrister, I doubt it will be a year before Her Majesty’s government rids the kingdom of him.”
“No!” Madam Cudney said. “It was that Beaty creature who killed that woman. Not Dunley. He would never do that!” She turned to Nicholas. “You’re a barrister. You can help us. Find someone to defend him. I won’t let him hang.”
“Why would I help him? Why would you even want me to?” Nicholas asked.
“Because he didn’t kill her. He couldn’t have.”
“Of course he did,” Alexandra said.
“But he won’t hang! I won’t let him!” Madam Cudney said.
“Because he’s your son.” Alexandra’s voice sounded unusually calm compared to Madam Cudney’s hysteria.
“Yes! He’s my son, and I will protect him!” she screeched.
“I’m afraid it’s too late,” Alexandra said.
“It can’t be too late. I will do anything to protect him.” Madam Cudney was growing more and more frantic.
“Except confess,” Alexandra said.
“Why should I confess? It was that man you call Young Beaty who—”
“An oysterman like Young Beaty knows how to handle a knife. Whoever killed Miss Elwold did not. Dunley may know knife tricks, but he obviously doesn’t know how to use one expertly on living flesh. He killed Miss Elwold in a most inexpert and brutal manner, and he’ll hang for it.”
“No!” Madam Cudney screamed. “I killed her. Not Dunley. I killed her. How else could I ever get the chance to show the queen I am the best?”
“Oh!” Mrs. Pickwick said, her eyes widening. “So you’re the one what tricked the queen into believing she saw her husband?” She shook her head. “Never would have taken you for a medium, but there was gossip among the servants that you fancied yourself one and…” Mrs. Pickwick turned to Alexandra. “Everyone knew Alvina spent most of her time in the graveyard. Thought she could talk to spirits out there. Made some think she was a bit touched in the head. I don’t know myself. Maybe Cudney’s a bit touched in the head herself.”
“How dare you accuse me of—”
“I suppose you brought Prince Albert here the same way you brought Alvina to the séance, did you?” Mrs. Pickwick said, interrupting Madam Cudney. “ ’Twas done with trickery!”
“You know nothing of our ways,” Madam Cudney screeched. “You’re as ignorant as all the rest. As ignorant as the queen herself. Nothing would have gone wrong if she hadn’t lost that gaudy brooch she borrowed, so we had to go back and look for it. She should have never gone to the gravesite in the beginning. Stupid woman. Thought she could contact old Alvina’s spirit in the graveyard,” Madam Cudney said, struggling to free herself from Nicholas’s tight grasp on her arm. “Weak-minded royalty! All of them! Her Majesty the worst of them.”
“You used poor Lucas,” Alexandra said. “You knew he frequented the graveyard, and you tried to trick him into thinking there were spirits out there to scare him away. Were you afraid he’d stumble upon the truth?”
For the first time Madam Cudney laughed. “The boy is another weak-minded fool. But still not as weak-minded as that fool we call a queen.”
“And Young Beaty. You tried to put the blame on him,” Mrs. Pickwick said. “How’d you make him believe all them awful things about himself? You cast a spell on him, just like poor Wilma said.”
“You’re all idiots,” Madam Cudney snarled.
“But you did cast a spell,” Mrs. Pickwick insisted.
Madam Cudney made no reply except to give the cook a withering look.
“My dear,” Nicholas began. “England is a civilized country. We don’t hang people for crimes they didn’t commit. And as for his being in gaol…” He turned to Alexandra with a questioning look.
“Nicholas? Nicholas, is that you?” Lady Forsythe said before Alexandra could answer. She pushed away the cup of coffee Mrs. Pickwick was once again trying to force her to drink. “Why are you wearing that ridiculous garb? And why are you dripping?” She had a difficult time forming her words. “Even your hair’s wet!”
“It’s all right, MaMa. Drink your coffee,” Nicholas said.
Lady Forsythe squinted at him and bobbled drunkenly as she tried to pull herself away from the pillows propped behind her. “Cudney? You still here? Told you to leave. Told you I want no more of that dreadful medicine. Make her go away, Nicky. Make her go away!” Her voice was rising almost to the tone of the scream Alexandra and Nicholas had heard earlier. “Make her go away!”
“Everything’s all right, my lady,” Nicholas said and tightened his grip on Madam Cudney. “She’s going away for a very long time.”
Chapter 17
Nicholas was dressed in clothes far more fitting for the sixth Earl of Dunsford or for a barrister of Her Majesty’s bench than he had been the night before. He sat in Alexandra’s parlor in front of the fire, sipping at a glass of sherry Nancy had brought him. Alexandra sat next to him with her own glass. Outside, another soggy November storm blew itself into a rage.
Nancy, in the meantime, was trying to pretend to be busy in the background while she eavesdropped on the conversation.
“Very clever of you to make Cudney believe her son was about to hang so you could get a confession out of her. He was never in gaol, of course, was he? Never in danger of hanging.”
“Let’s just leave it with the fact that the constable got the confession he wanted,” Alexandra said.
Nicholas laughed. “As I said, what you did was clever. Deceitful, of course. Illegal perhaps, nevertheless…”
“I’ll let you worry about the legality of things. I’ll just practice medicine,” Alexandra said.
“You’ve done far more than practice medicine, but tell me, how did you know Cudney was the one who killed Miss Elwood?”
Alexandra smiled at Nicholas. “I’m afraid that was another one of my little charades,” she said. “You see, I didn’t know, really, but I had a strong suspicion. Her knowing about the wet coat in the wardrobe, trying to suggest Lady Forsythe had been out after she’d told us she was too drugged to leave. Then there was the inexpert use of the murder weapon. As I said, I knew Young Beaty wouldn’t make such a mess of the deed, and I truthfully didn’t think Dunley would, either. I’d seen him handle that knife. I was seeing more and more evidence that it had to be Madam Cudney.”
“Everything changed when Hannah accused Cudney’s son,” Nicholas said.
Alexandra nodded. “When I saw Madam Cudney’s reaction after Hannah accused her son, I knew I’d been on the right track all along. It occurred to me that if Dunley was her son, I might get a confession out of her. So I changed tactics. Rather suddenly, maybe not particularly expertly. I just pushed the matter as far as I could to try to get her to admit the truth. It worked, as you saw.”
“Ah, yes,” Nicholas said, setting his cup aside. “The evidence against you is mounting. You tricked her into a confession.”
“Manipulated,” Alexandra said. “That seems a kinder word.”
“Nevertheless—”
“And you used some of your own trickery,” she interrupted. “If I remember correctly, you joined me in my deception.”
“It took me a moment to realize what you were trying to do. I’m afraid I’m not as inherently deceptive as you, my dear.”
“Ah, but you did catch on. Read my mind, so to speak, and you played along with it quite well. Clever of you.”
“Well, perhaps I have learned a number of devious machinations in my career,” Nicholas said, feigning seriousness.
“Including how to pick a lock.”
“Oh, that…”
“I must say I was impressed,” Alexandra added. “What other questionable skills have you learned along the way?”
Nicholas shook his head dismissively and picked up his glass again, pretending to study the contents. “Speaking of questionable skills, it’s still not entirely clear how Cudney or Miss Elwold or whomever was able to convince Young Beaty he’d been unfaithful to Wilma and that he killed Miss Elwold.”
“Mesmerism, as Hannah suggested,” Alexandra said. “Wilma told me Young Beaty has begun to remember more of what happened to him. He remembered seeing Madam Cudney in the graveyard, remembered her speaking to him, and how he began to feel sleepy, then forgot how he got home. He only remembers being at home and confessing the murder and what he thought was his unfaithfulness to Wilma.”
“Mesmerism. Hypnotism. I still think it odd,” Nicholas said. “It’s usually men who induce such spells, if I may call it that.”
“Just as it is usually men who are doctors,” Alexandra said.
“Well…”
“Madam Cudney, it seems, had a number of skills, all of them related to her carnival acts. Not only was she a so-called medium and a mesmerist, but she was a decent actress. Mrs. Pickwick was right, it was Madam Cudney who played the part of Miss Elwold at the séance.”
Nicholas gave her a questioning look over the top of his glass of sherry. “How did you know…?”
“As you saw, Pickwick guessed it first, but really, it became rather obvious, don’t you think?”
“Not that. How did you know she’d been an actress and a mesmerist?”
“I read about it in the Sunday Bull. The writer didn’t name names, of course, but he did mention that a companion of Her Majesty was known to practice such things.”
Nicholas almost choked on his drink. “You read the Bull? Regularly?”
Alexandra felt herself blushing. “It’s just that I…well, I saw one someone left in the surgery waiting room, so I picked it up and…Oh, never mind. I was curious, that’s all, so I read it.”
“I see,” Nicholas said, trying to suppress a grin. “Seems I could learn a few more tricks that might serve me if I continue to frequent this…What was it Cudney called it? Godforsaken place?”
“Yes, I believe those were her words,” Alexandra said, too embarrassed to say more.
Nicholas laughed. “I, on the other hand, would call this place heavenly.” Nicholas reached for Alexandra’s hand, picked it up, and kissed it. He glanced at Nancy, who was leaning ever closer to listen in. “At least we’ve rid it of ghosts and spirits, haven’t we, Nancy?” he asked.
Whatever was Nancy’s reply, it was muffled by the sound of a loud rumble of thunder accompanied by a sky-piercing streak of lightning. At just that moment, Nancy saw something move past the window. It was something ethereal and spectral. Something with the face of Alvina Elwold. Zack saw it as well, and rumbled out an eerie, high-pitched howl.
Nancy remembered the recently carved tombstone she’d read in the graveyard:
Alvina Elwold lies buried deep.
Yet she swore she’d never sleep.
For my dear family, who helped through difficult times,
and in memory of Kenneth
BY PAULA PAUL
Alexandra Gladstone Mysteries
Symptoms of Death
An Improper Death
Half a Mind to Murder
Medium Dead
PHOTO: LAUREN ASHLEY CREATIVE GROUP, INC.
Award-winning novelist PAULA PAUL was born on her grandparents’ cotton farm near Shallowater, Texas, and graduated from a country high school near Maple, Texas. She earned a B.A. in journalism
and has worked as a reporter for newspapers in both Texas and New Mexico. She’s been the recipient of state and national awards for her work as a journalist as well as a novelist. Her previous novels featuring Dr. Alexandra Gladstone, including Symptoms of Death, have appeared on Amazon and mystery bookstore bestseller lists. She is also the author of the Mystery by Design series, which she wrote as Paula Carter. She lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
www.paulapaul.net
Facebook.com/pages/Alexandra-Gladstone-Mysteries/279336318782364
@PaulaPaul4
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