Ancient Appetites

Well, perhaps there was a little jealousy too, but that was one of the deadly sins and she did her best not to harbour it.

She heard a screeching cry of pain.

There came another shriek as she pulled a dressing gown on over her nightdress and hurried out into the hall. Roberto was rushing up the hallway and Nathaniel was just opening his door.

'Did you hear that?' Berto asked them.

'You mean the awful, agonizing screams?' Nate waved in the general direction of the sound. 'Yes, yes I did.'

'Where's it coming from?' Daisy asked.

A gang of five footmen approaching from the other end of the corridor, all carrying pistols, looked intent on answering her question. Clancy was at their head and he stopped at a section of wall halfway between the door to Nate's rooms and the elevator. Running his hands down the wall, he stopped at the dado rail and pressed something. A hidden door clicked open and a man in a footman's uniform collapsed out onto the floor, moaning and clutching his leg. Clancy examined him quickly, put his gun away and then looked to the other servants.

'A stretcher, quickly!' he barked. 'And someone call for the doctor.'

Two of them hurried back to the service elevator. Clancy noticed Daisy and the two brothers looking on; he stood up and strode towards them.

'A false alarm, sirs, ma'am,' he reassured them. 'McInerney there entered Lord Wildenstern's room without knocking, thinking it empty' he reassured them. Lord Wildenstern being the Duke's brother, Gideon. 'McInerney was returning some shoes he had been polishing. His lordship was asleep at his desk, with the lights turned down; McInerney did not see him until it was too late. He surprised Lord Wildenstern, who thought the man was an attacker. His lordship pulled on a cord that opened a trap door under McInerney's feet. He fell from the floor above us into the compartment behind this wall.'

'My God,' Daisy exclaimed. 'Is he hurt?'

'A broken ankle, I think, Miss Daisy. It could have been worse.'

'Gideon has a trap door?' Berto blurted out. He turned to his brother. 'I don't have a trap door. Do you have a trap door? And Gideon's being a little jumpy, isn't he? What's-?'

'What's he got to be so scared of?' Nate finished for him.

There was a long pause.

'His wife?' Berto suggested.

'Then perhaps he's not the only one,' Daisy snapped. 'But why resort to 'wife' jokes when jokes about husbands are so much easier?'

'He's not joking,' Nathaniel told her. 'Eunice is obsessed with her children's place in the family. She'd do anything to help them get ahead. With Gideon gone, they'd all move up a rank.'

'Dear God.' Daisy sighed. 'Is this whole family insane?'

'Just the lucky ones,' Berto replied, moving closer to the injured man to get a better look. McInerney had fallen a good ten feet from the floor above, where Gideon and Eunice had their rooms. Nate felt a little put out that there was a booby trap beside his bedroom and he had never known about it. The servant was tall and athletic, with lean features and blond hair. His face was twisted in pain and his ankle was the size of a grapefruit.

The stretcher arrived and four of the servants carried the unfortunate man to the service elevator. Clancy took his leave of his master and went with them.

'Did you notice?' Daisy asked softly. 'The injured man – he looked a bit like Nathaniel. Apart from being rather handsome, I mean.'

'What do you mean? He's a servant,' Nate retorted.

'No, she has a point.' Berto shook his head. 'He did look like you. If he walked into a dark room…'

'Someone might mistake him for you,' Daisy concluded.

Nate was quiet for a moment.

'But why would Gideon set off a booby trap if he saw me coming into his room?'

'I can think of a couple of reasons,' Berto said thoughtfully. 'Either he thinks you bumped off Marcus and you're still looking to get rid of any competition…'

'Or he killed Marcus and thinks I might be out for revenge,' Nate muttered.

'I wish you'd both stop finishing my sentences,' Berto said sourly. 'I'm more than capable of doing it myself.'

Dr Alexander Warburton was a small man whose narrow limbs contrasted greatly with his large potbelly. He wore well-cut suits to make up the difference. His half-inch-thick glasses were evidence of his failing eyesight and he was developing a habit of forgetting the names of his nearest relatives in the Wildenstern family, a sin whose grievousness was compounded when one considered that they also made up his entire list of patients. However, he still seemed very capable of spouting pompous strings of Latin whenever he felt he needed to impress someone with his expertise.

For this reason, Nate preferred to have Gerald around whenever he was dealing with the good doctor. Gerald's memory, in either English or Latin, was better than Warburton's and Gerald revelled in every chance to correct his former mentor. It made sure that Warburton stopped beating around the bush and got straight to the point. And when he was forced to think faster, Warburton was a useless liar.

'… So, as I've already explained,' the doctor concluded, 'the tissue and bone damage to Marcus's body was extensive, in keeping with a fall. Not that I had any doubt on the matter, Nathaniel, because you will already know there were witnesses who actually saw it happen.'

'But those injuries could have been caused by something other than a fall, right?' Nate persisted. 'Or he could have been pushed or thrown off-'

'I don't know what you're implying,' Warburton protested, despite the fact that it was quite clear what Nate was implying. 'Gerald will tell you, he saw the body before it was embalmed. Marcus was killed in a climbing accident. It's as simple as that.'

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on his polished walnut desk. Taking off his glasses, he started polishing them with a handkerchief while he gazed myopically at Nate and his cousin.

'All right, look, Nicholas… Nathan… er, Nathaniel… I know what you're afraid of-'

'I'm not afraid of anything-'

'You're afraid that this was an Act of Aggression, yes?' Warburton shook his head. 'You think we're all covering it up and you're worried that whoever may have bumped off Martin… eh, Marcus… will come after you now that you're being groomed to take over the business in America, yes? It's perfectly understandable, Nich… Nathaniel – it's just wrong, that's all.'

'His nails,' Gerald muttered.

'What?' Warburton frowned, putting on his spectacles.

'I didn't notice until Nate specifically asked me about them,' Gerald said. 'Marcus's fingernails were freshly manicured when he was brought in. Who gets a manicure before they go rock-climbing? And more to the point, how could his nails be in such perfect condition after he'd climbed a few hundred feet? There were no rope burns on his hands or arms either. He was harnessed up to a rope. You really think he fell and never even made a grab for it? You have to admit, Doctor, it all smells a bit off.'

'No, it doesn't,' Warburton snapped. 'If it were an Act of Aggression, I'd tell you, all right? And when you've been around as long as I have, you learn a thing or two about spotting the difference between an accident and an assassination, thank you very much. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do!'

As they walked away from the doctor's office, Nate turned to his cousin with raised eyebrows.

'Well?'

'Oh, the old boy's lying, no doubt about it,' Gerald snorted. 'But then, that's his job, isn't it? He's the family doctor.'

Nate nodded. That was how it worked. If somebody committed an Act of Aggression, it was immediately hushed up. If witnesses were needed, they would be ordered, bought or blackmailed into co-operating. Evidence would be manufactured. Warburton would have to do his best to ensure there was a presentable corpse, but as the family doctor, he was sworn to silence. Some day, it was assumed that Gerald would take over that particular role.

'So something's definitely up,' Nate said, almost to himself, playing with the gold rings on his fingers, as he