Tenfold More Wicked Read Online Free PDF Page A

theft an opportunity.”
    â€œAh. So he breaks the window to enter. Stabs the old man, tears out his heart, rips his face off, schllpp! Job done. Filches the fellow’s cash for good measure, and off he trots?”
    â€œPlausible. Especially if the killer was hired, and looting the scene for a bonus.” She tested the sliced edges around the dead man’s chin with her scalpel. “A human face isn’t strongly attached to the skull. Cut around the edge, it’ll just peel off. But why?”
    â€œFor fun? No point trying to hide this victim’s identity.”
    â€œHmm. But to hide something else about him . . . ?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œI’ve no idea,” she admitted. “Where is it? I wonder. The face, I mean.”
    â€œPerhaps the killer took it with him. Proof of a job well done. A powerful man like Sir Dalziel has enemies. Sending a message?”
    She rose to examine the carpet, where Hippocrates snuffled and squeaked. “All this carving and stabbing. Surely he’s left some traces . . . Aha!” She pointed triumphantly at a curved smudge of blood. “Difficult to make footprints when you’re drowning in your own blood. Captain, meet our killer.”
    â€œMan or woman?”
    Her brows arched.
    â€œThe wife’s always the chief suspect, isn’t she? I get the impression they didn’t like each other.”
    â€œBut peeling his face off? Hardly a society wife’s specialty. Simpler to poison the fellow’s port.”
    â€œGiven it much thought, have you? Murdering one’s husband, I mean.”
    â€œOne should plan for every contingency.”
    â€œIndeed. I sleep with a loaded weapon for that very purpose. Just so you know.”
    â€œI’ll bear that in mind.” She squirted a sheet of paper with a clear solution and touched it to the footprint. The outline seeped gently through the paper, its shape copied. “In any case, this belongs to a man. A narrow shoe, a fashionable gentleman’s type.” She pointed to another smudge. “He’s long-legged. So not our lovesick Mr. Brigham.”
    â€œA party guest?”
    â€œMmm. We must get a list of names.” She walked to the window, frowning. “Smudges in the blood there, as if he strode back and forth. But no footprints back this way. So either he took a different exit, or . . .”
    The front door slammed. Eliza groaned. “Ready or not.”
    The drawing room door burst open, and in stalked Chief Inspector Reeve, four constables on his heels. “Right, you two. Out.”
    Swiftly, Eliza backed towards the body before Lizzie could react. “I say, have the police not already attended? Captain Lafayette, you odious mischief-maker, you deceive me again. I’m terribly sorry . . . Oh!” She stumbled, swiping her skirt hem into the bloodstain. “Dear me. So clumsy.”
    Quickly, Lafayette thrust a sheaf of Sir Dalziel’s papers into her bag behind her back. “No need for alarm. We were just leaving.”
    â€œAlarm unnecessary,” chirped Hipp, kicking up his feet. “Exit imminent.”
    Furniture crashed in the hall. “Out of my way, you horrid monster-boy!” A flurry of black satin skirts swept in. Lady Fleet, presumably, surprisingly slim and pretty, trailing a dark veil over her elaborate blond chignon. She’d certainly laid hands on the appropriate mourning attire at a moment’s notice.
    Suddenly the idea of this fashionable young wife doing away her rich, elderly husband didn’t seem so unlikely.
    â€œYou, sir!” Lady Fleet pointed dramatically at Lafayette. “Leave my house immediately. You and your preposterous accusations have hounded my poor husband to his grave. Dispatched in his own home by some vile scion of the criminal classes! Are you satisfied?”
    Brava! cheered Lizzie ironically, and Eliza resisted the urge to applaud. If Lady Fleet had held