“They said we are to arm ourselves,” the groundskeeper responded.
“Arm ourselves with what?” Gabriel demanded.
“We have these.” The manservant edged closer to the fireplace and retrieved a pair of rifles from over the mantel. “Unfortunately we have very little ammunition, so we must use these guns wisely.”
Gabriel took one of the rifles from the manservant. There was no way in hell he was going to wait to draw straws over who was getting a weapon. If he was going to get Jane and the rest of the women out of this alive, he wasn’t going to rely on anybody but himself. “How much ammo are we talking here, Mr. Ernst?”
The manservant’s lips thinned, giving his already-gaunt face an almost skeletal appearance. Looking at Emmerich was like staring at a skull with eyes. “You will have three shots.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to make them count,” Gabriel muttered as he took a seat beside Jane.
The manservant paused to glance at the assembled guests. “Now that you are here, I can tell you that Herr Kramer’s body has been taken outside.”
Timothy crossed himself, murmuring a prayer. “What a terrible end for the poor old chap.”
“I can’t even imagine how scared he must have been,” Jane said softly.
“I don’t think he suffered.” Gabriel told her, laying the rifle across his lap. “It was probably over before he even knew what happened. My guess is he was asleep, so he didn’t feel any pain.”
She gave him a sad smile that sent agony through him. “I suppose that’s one relief.”
“There’s no relief as long as there’s a madman out there,” Timothy cut in, his tone desperate. “He won’t stop at one knifing. Mark my words, he’ll try again.”
“But why is he doing this?” Jane asked. “What motive could he possibly have?”
“As I said already. Madness.” Timothy tapped his temple for emphasis. “Can’t make any rhyme or reason from a lunatic’s actions. No doubt he’s lying in wait for the next chance to strike.”
Gabriel looked to Timothy, giving the older man a meaningful stare. “What makes you so sure the killer is outside this room?”
Timothy sputtered, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. “You think one of us did this?”
“It makes the most sense,” Gabriel said evenly.
Timothy’s face reddened. “It most certainly does not. Why in the world would one of us harm Otto?”
“Heidi and Otto,” Gabriel corrected. “You don’t actually think the solicitor was the first victim, do you?”
“Are you saying that the maid was also murdered?” Timothy choked out.
“Yeah. I am,” Gabriel said.
“Then it can’t be one of us,” Timothy insisted. “Nobody in this room is mad.”
“Both murders appear to be very well executed,” the manservant said slowly. “Therefore, the culprit is clearly sane.”
“I don’t appreciate the pun, Emmerich.” Timothy glared at the manservant. “In any case, mad people can make plans.”
“I’m with Mr. Ernst,” Gabriel said. “I think the killer had a motive beyond insanity.”
“What motive? Why kill Heidi and Otto?” Timothy asked. “Otto is an important man, so it’s possible he had enemies. But who would have reason to kill some insignificant maid?”
“No one is insignificant,” Jane snapped.
Timothy chuckled nervously and tugged at his collar. “Come now, Cousin, I meant no offense—”
“It’s people like you that make my job hell,” she said sharply. “I’m the receptionist that nobody sees. Or thanks for any of the work that I do. So, if I’m next on this killer’s list, will I be in the insignificant column to you, Timothy?”
“Of course not,” Timothy said. “You’re the most important one here. You are the heir to Wintergarten.”
“Which makes these killings all the more baffling and peculiar,” the manservant pointed out. “The most logical motive is the castle itself. With that motive in mind, as one of the next in line to inherit, Fraulein Westen is the most likely candidate for a murder.”
The color drained from Jane’s face. “Gee, thanks.”
“I tell you, the killer can’t be one of us,” Timothy said. “It must be someone else. Someone lurking about in the shadows somewhere in the castle.”
“Unless you are the killer, Timothy, and you want to place the blame somewhere else,” Gabriel said darkly.
Timothy shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Me? What reason could I have to harm them?”
“Maybe Otto knew something about you that the rest of us don’t,” Gabriel said.
“What nonsense. I’m an open book,” the older man said with a scoff. “I’ve nothing to hide.”
“I don’t think Timothy did this,” Jane said.
“Thank you, Cousin,” Timothy said, giving her a smile.
“He’s too old and frail to have pulled any of this off,” Jane said dryly.
Timothy scowled in response.
“Too true,” the manservant agreed. “This is the crime of a younger, fitter man. It would have taken true power to push Heidi down those stairs and to then kill a man of Herr Kramer’s strength.”
“Not necessarily,” Gabriel said. “Otto was probably killed in his sleep. Wouldn’t need superhuman strength to stab a guy in his sleep. As for Heidi, we can’t really say for sure that she was pushed. For all we know, she was poisoned earlier and happened to fall down the stairs when it took effect.”
“More outlandish accusations,” Timothy said. “Do you have evidence for this nonsense? No, you don’t. Perhaps you are the real killer, Gabriel. After all, you’re young and virile enough to have struck them both down.”
Jane’s breath hitched audibly and Gabriel glanced her way. A blush crept up her cheeks, staining them pink, and she averted her gaze to look into the fire. Was all that talk about strength and virility making her think back to their lovemaking? Or was she starting to suspect the Gabriel was some sort of psychopathic killer?
“Guess that means you shouldn’t try to cross me,” Gabriel warned.
Timothy’s eyes widened. “How dare—”
“Gentlemen, set aside your differences,” the manservant urged. “We must all come together if we are to stay safe.”
“All… wait a moment.” Agnes glanced around the room frantically. “We’re not all here. Berta. Berta the cook’s not here.”
7
“We cannot find her
