Page 12 of You Only Love Twice
"He's proud of his work," Byrnes added.
"And the man you thought was the Chameleon?" Ingrid mused, sipping her brandy. "I presume there's a reason we're discussing this case now."
The baroness rounded the table toward the opaque projector at the far end and removed one of the caps so the screen on the wall at the opposite end of the table suddenly lit up.
"As Malloryn said, we thought we'd captured him three years ago," the baroness said. The projector flashed as she slid a small slide into place, and a photograph of a man with a neatly trimmed mustache flashed up on the wall.
Malloryn stared at the image. "Jonathan Carlyle. The man we thought to be the Chameleon. Carlyle was serving as Lord Randall's footman—a new posting for him—when he put a pistol to Carlyle's head and pulled the trigger. Gemma brought him in. Since then, he's been locked away in Thorne Tower and the queen's best questioners have been working on him to discover whom he worked for. For three years he's pled his innocence, and he seemingly couldn't remember being in the room at the time of Carlyle's murder. He stuck with this story regardless of what was done to him, and I've seen dangerous men break under less. He simply couldn't remember anything beyond his lordship sending him to fetch brandy. He didn't know why he did it. He claimed to like Lord Randall, who'd given him a position that gave him the ability to send money home to his elderly mother. He felt like he owed Randall a debt, and he used to sob when Randall was mentioned. It's always bothered me because we could never understand how such a limp handkerchief of a man like Carlyle ever managed to carve a swathe through half the Echelon."
"Interesting," Byrnes said, leaning forward. "A man with no reason to murder a blue blood pulls the trigger, but can't remember why. I'd say I wanted the Randall case, but I'm fairly certain there's more to it. You said the Chameleon was murdered."
"This morning, Carlyle's cell door was discovered unlocked. Someone put a bullet through his forehead in a move seemingly reminiscent of the Chameleon. He had a playing card in his hand—a King of Diamonds."
"You think the real Chameleon is still out there, and you misjudged."
"I don't know what I believe," Malloryn countered, glancing her way.
Gemma ground her teeth together. She'd been the witness who saw Carlyle standing over the body of Lord Randall. Yet it wasn't the first time she'd failed a mission spectacularly.
You didn't fail. You saw him.
Behind closed lids, she called to mind the image of Jonathan Carlyle slipping into Lord Randall's parlor and pouring him a glass of bloodied brandy, which his lordship took. The second Randall lifted it to his lips, Carlyle removed the linen cloth on the tray in his hand, revealing a pistol.
He'd put the muzzle to Randall's forehead and pulled the trigger before she could even cry a warning.
"I saw it happen," she burst out, unable to tolerate Malloryn's pointed silence. "I was undercover as Randall's secretary at the time, trying to stop the Chameleon before he completed his mission."
Byrnes tapped his fingers on the edge of his chair. "If Gemma saw Carlyle pull the trigger, and yet someone else killed Carlyle, then we have two Chameleons."
"Possibly. Or perhaps Carlyle was a scapegoat. Perhaps the real Chameleon knew we were closing in and wanted to throw us off the trail?"
"Could it have been blackmail?" Charlie asked. "Perhaps the real Chameleon forced Carlyle to kill Randall?"
"Why did he not remember killing him then?" Ingrid asked.
Gemma seethed. If it was true, then the Chameleon had known she was on his trail and had deliberately fooled her. "You said there was a credible threat against the queen?"
Malloryn withdrew a playing card from within his waistcoat and held it out to her.
A single bullet hole was drilled through the center of the card.
He turned the card around, revealing the suit.
"Queen of Diamonds," she whispered.
"Someone pinned this to my front door with a knife, then put a bullet in it. It happened just before lunch, and woke me."
Gemma’s breath came a little faster. "He wanted you to know he was coming for her."
"Indeed."
She was convinced, as nothing else could have convinced her. The Chameleon had spent years playing games with Malloryn. Every death had been a mockery. Acatch me if you can. And then she'd finally done it, and the murders stopped, and she'd had no reason to doubt the Chameleon's identity. "This is him. He's back. And he's definitely after the queen."
But where had he been for three years?
"Find him," Malloryn instructed. "I need to return to the Tower and put security protocols into place."
"He'll be on the inside already," she whispered.
