“Very good, sir. I was unsure if you’d been needing my services today as you did not ring for my assistance this morning.” There was a very definite reproof in Parks’s toneless comment, and I was gratified that I was not the only one who found Milo’s behavior today to be reproachable.
“I beg your pardon, Parks. I left quite early and didn’t wish to disturb Mrs. Ames.”
Parks nodded, but it seemed as though he had not yet voiced all of his complaints. “I understand that there was a bit of trouble last night.”
It took me a moment to realize he was talking about the murder. Parks was given to understatement.
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“I heard the commotion but assumed it to be merely some sort of traffic altercation—the backfiring of a car or some such thing—and fell back to sleep. I wish you had awakened me, sir. I might have been of help.”
“I appreciate that, but there was really very little to be done.”
“Just the same, sir. I might have been of use. It is my understanding that Mr. Calvin was not at all collected during the crisis.” I suspected this was tantamount to treason in Parks’s estimation.
“You can’t hold him to your own high standards, Parks,” Milo said.
“Quite so, sir. Nevertheless, I do wish that next time a crisis occurs you would make me aware of it.”
“I shall certainly do so in the future.”
“Thank you.”
“Have any of the staff had anything interesting to say about what happened last night?” Milo asked.
“I don’t much care for gossip, sir,” he said with great dignity.
“Of course not.”
“However, I couldn’t help but overhear some of the discussions, and it seems that the general consensus is that Mr. Palmer was on the wrong side of a criminal gang.”
This was much the same as what Winnelda had told me, but his next words caught me by surprise.
“There is, however, a small faction that believes he may have been killed by someone in the household.”
“Someone here?” I repeated. “Why should someone want to kill Mr. Palmer?”
“Mr. Palmer has made some enemies in the house.”
“Who, for instance?” Milo asked.
“As to that, I’m afraid the talk was rather vague, sir. It was just a general feeling that he was not much liked and that his murder might be easy to disguise as a, ah, ‘gangland killing.’”
“That’s very interesting,” Milo said. “Thank you, Parks.”
“You’re most welcome, sir.”
Parks turned then and went noiselessly from the room.
When he had gone, I turned to Milo. “Do you think there’s anything in that?”
Milo shrugged, sinking into a chair and removing his cigarette case from his pocket. “It’s certainly not outside the realm of possibility.”
“But surely if someone had wanted to kill him, they might have found a subtler way to do it.”
Even as I said the words, I realized how clever it would be to disguise a killing as the result of a dispute with a gangster. Grant Palmer’s death would be written off as another crime statistic, attributable to some nameless, faceless assassin, and the real killer would go free.
“I suppose the police will investigate the link to Mr. Palmer’s underworld activities,” I mused.
“Yes, though I imagine it might be difficult to prove.”
“You know,” I said slowly, “it could have been someone in the house. After all, he was killed on the Aldens’ doorstep. That seems to indicate a connection.”
Milo looked at me, his gaze intent. “Did you have someone particular in mind?”
“I don’t know,” I said, considering. “I think there may have been something between him and Jemma Petrie, perhaps a bit less serious on his side than on hers.”
“I would have thought Jemma Petrie would’ve gone into such a relationship with her eyes open.”
Perhaps he was right. We didn’t know anything for certain, after all.
Another possibility occurred to me then, an unpleasant one. “I did hear him arguing with Mr. Alden.”
I didn’t like to think that Tabitha’s father might be responsible for such a thing, and he had certainly seemed shaken when he had come into the drawing room after the murder. Nevertheless, we couldn’t discount his troubled relationship with Mr. Palmer.
“He wasn’t home at the time,” I added, thinking again that it was a bit odd he had decided to go out at that time of night.
“None of them was here,” Milo pointed out.
It was the same thought that had occurred to me last night. If we assumed that it was one of the wedding party, then none of them had been at the house when Grant Palmer had been killed. I wondered if any of them could provide outside alibis.
“I also saw Tom and Mr. Palmer quarreling as we left the Topaz Club,” I said. That was nothing conclusive, but it would not be the first time that hidden motives had led to murder. “Perhaps things between them were not as friendly as they made them out to be. Of course, the same might be said of Mr. Elliot. Miss Petrie told me they’d argued over a woman.”
“It could even have been Tabitha, for that matter.”
I looked up at him, surprised. It had never even crossed my mind that Tabitha might be a suspect. “She was at the end of the street, trying to hail a cab.”
“So she says. But you recall that her screams began after the shots. Calvin said he heard the screams before he went to open the door. She could easily have shot him and then set about feigning hysteria.”
I stared at him. “You don’t mean to suggest that Tabitha might have had something to do with it?”
“I don’t mean to suggest anything; I merely point out that she might have had the same opportunity as anyone else.”
It was, unnervingly, true. I remembered how strongly she had reacted to the idea that Grant Palmer was trying to influence her father, the impression I had had that she would go to great lengths to protect him. But no. I couldn’t believe that Tabitha would have done this.
“If only there had been a witness, someone who had been looking outside when the shots sounded…” I said.
“Yes, that would have been very convenient,” he agreed. “Alas, not everyone enjoys being involved in events that don’t concern them.”
I didn’t miss the little jibe implicit in this comment. Milo often lectured me on getting myself involved in matters that were no concern of mine, but I couldn’t seem to help that I was always falling into such things.
Then again, I did go into them willingly. Perhaps other people encountered the scent of mystery in everyday life but opted not to follow the trail. The problem was, I couldn’t just ignore it. I had to know what lay at the root of acts of evil. As my mother had once pointed out, there were police to do that sort of thing. However, I had, in the past, been able to provide the police with insights they might not otherwise be able to access. This instance might very well prove the same.
I expected the lecture about how we should let the detectives do their job and not get involved, so Milo’s next words surprised me. “I suspect the police are going to focus on Mr. Palmer’s underworld connections, but it might benefit us to see if we can clear the members of the wedding party of suspicion.”
I realized what he was saying. “You think that we should try to find out who the killer is.”
“I am now involved with Mr. Alden’s business; I have an investment to protect.”
That reminded me. He had enticed me upstairs with the promise of information. “What was it you discovered today?”
“I wired Ludlow and he referred me to a bank here. There was a very helpful young lady there. I found her to be most forthcoming.”
“I’m sure you did.” I could well imagine the pretty young bank teller whom Milo had charmed. “What did she have to say?”
“She told me that Mr. Alden has been making a great many deposits as of late, but they have all been in ca
sh so there is no record of who they came from.”
Leave it to Milo to have gleaned such personal information in such a short amount of time.
“That wasn’t all,” he continued. “I found out that one day he came to the bank with a young man, withdrew a large sum of money, and gave it to him.”
I felt I knew what he was going to say before he said it. “It was Mr. Palmer.”
He nodded. “The description sounds very like him, anyway. The young lady didn’t catch his name.”
“And did she tell you anything else, this most obliging young lady?” I asked.
He gave me the expression of utmost innocence that I knew was entirely disingenuous. “Nothing of interest.”
I shot him a look before continuing. “So it seems they were in some sort of business relationship together. Do you think Mr. Alden is involved with bootleggers?” I had, from the beginning, found it difficult to imagine Tabitha’s father involving himself with gangsters, but the more we learned, the more it appeared that Mr. Alden might be participating in some sort of illegal activity.
“I think the matter bears more looking into. If it is Mr. Alden who killed Grant Palmer then perhaps I might have to rethink my investment,” he said dryly.
I felt a hint of excitement, and also a bit of relief that I was not going to have to fight Milo on this. It would be nice to be partners in this endeavor. We worked much better when we weren’t at odds.
I walked to where he sat on the sofa and took a seat beside him. “Now, where to begin?”
My mind began to turn. First and foremost, I thought we should find out if Mr. Alden had a link to Leon De Lora through Grant Palmer. If that was the case, things would be even more complicated.
“You’re not going,” Milo said, drawing my attention back to him.
I frowned, more because I comprehended him than because I didn’t. “Going where?”
“You know perfectly well ‘where,’” Milo said. “You want to go to that speakeasy and nose around to see if you can find out who might have killed Grant Palmer. I think I should go alone. You don’t need to put yourself in danger.”
I oughtn’t have been surprised that Milo knew what I was thinking. After all, this wasn’t our first time being involved in a mystery of this sort, and we had often ventured into what might be considered dangerous territory. Milo, I had to admit, was better suited to some aspects of such investigations than I.
This time, however, we were both on unfamiliar ground. Milo, in his bespoke suit, with his elegant manners and public-school accent, was likely to stand out among the rougher elements.
He seemed to guess what I was thinking. “I’ve been to gambling clubs all over the world; it’s not as though I haven’t rubbed shoulders with dangerous men before.”
It made sense what he said. Between his love of gambling and horse racing, there was little doubt he could easily insinuate himself with the criminal classes. Besides, Milo was never at a disadvantage. He seemed to slip seamlessly into his surroundings, and I had never seen anyone he was unable to charm.
Still, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be left out of the matter. “It’s a popular nightspot, after all, so it’s not as though our presence would draw attention.”
“I’m sure asking questions would most assuredly draw attention from a man like Leon De Lora. It would be better if I go alone.”
I considered the options and begrudgingly had to admit that he had a point. Milo would be far more likely to be able to introduce the topics that needed discussing. Nevertheless, the situation galled me.
“I suppose you may be right, though I don’t see why you should be the one to have all the fun.”
“Is it so wrong for me to want to shield you from some of the more unsavory aspects of life?”
I didn’t know whether to appreciate this sentiment or be annoyed by it. I didn’t want protecting. I wanted to have adventures. There was something sweet about his words, however, that made me feel a bit ungrateful for wanting to accompany him. I wondered if that had been his aim all along.
“Very well,” I conceded at last. “You go to the speakeasy, and I’ll see what I can learn from the others. But I want to know everything as soon as you return.”
“Of course. I’ll go tonight after dinner.”
11
DINNER THAT EVENING was a solemn affair. Tabitha and Tom had not yet returned from their outing by the time we sat down to eat, and I was a bit uneasy about their absence. I supposed they simply wanted to be alone after the tragedy that had occurred here, but I was still on edge.
Mr. Alden seemed to have recovered some of his poise from the night before, but there was an artificial heartiness in his tone that revealed that he was still struggling to regain his equilibrium. I did notice that he glanced repeatedly at the clock and wondered if he was waiting for Tabitha to return.
“I apologize for neglecting to be a good host today,” he said as the soup was served. “I had a lot of things to tend to. I had to speak to my attorney, as well as fend off a great many people who wanted information on what happened here last night.”
“Think nothing of it,” I said. “I know all of this has been rather appalling.”
“I don’t know what to make of any of it,” he said. “I knew Grant was in with a rough crowd, but I never expected anything like this.”
I wondered for a moment if he might let something slip about their business relationship, but he focused on his food then, and we lapsed into silence.
I hoped dinner would be quick. The sooner we returned to our room, the sooner Milo would be able to slip out of the house. I didn’t know exactly what I expected him to discover, but I couldn’t help but feel that he was going to learn something at De Lora’s.
We were midway through the second course when Tabitha and Tom came into the dining room. I looked up and was surprised to see that Rudy Elliot and Jemma Petrie were with them.
“Tabitha, I’ve been worried about you,” Mr. Alden said. He seemed as though he was trying to pass his tone off as casual, but there was definite strain beneath the words.
“Sorry we’re late, Dad,” Tabitha said, seemingly oblivious to his concern. “We were driving for most of the day, trying to think things over. And then we went and picked up Rudy and Jemma. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
“I can’t believe this has happened,” Mr. Elliot said. “To think that we just saw Grant at the Topaz Club. Who would have ever thought…” His normally cheerful countenance was grave. I knew he and Mr. Palmer had been close, and I could only imagine this had been a great shock for him.
My gaze moved to Jemma Petrie. It was more difficult to tell what she was feeling. She appeared to be perfectly composed, but some of her natural exuberance had dimmed since we had seen her last. She was pale and her eyes were dark and red-rimmed. I wondered if Tom had been right, if she was secretly grieving for Mr. Palmer.
“Tom and I are going to go ahead with the wedding,” Tabitha said, drawing my attention back to the conversation.
Mr. Alden looked up at her. “Tabitha, do you think…?”
“I know everything is difficult, but I think it’s for the best. All the plans are in place, the guests are coming, and Amory and Milo have come all the way from London.”
“You needn’t make any decisions on our account,” I said. “We can stay longer if necessary.”
Tabitha shook her head, an obstinate set to her chin. I recognized at once that she had made up her mind. The wedding was going to go ahead, and that was that.
Mr. Alden seemed to recognize it, too. He sighed. “Very well. Whatever you think is best.”
“I think you’re right,” Jemma said. “I know Grant’s death is a tragedy, but that doesn’t mean that the two of you should suffer for it. You may as well continue with things as you had planned.”
Rudy Elliot said nothing.
“We’ll all miss Grant, but I’m sure he would’ve wanted the wedding to go on.” This was the first that Tom Smith
had spoken since they had come into the room, and his tone was somewhat unconvinced. The sentiment was understandable, for I had the feeling that Grant Palmer would not much have cared if the wedding went on or not. I had always had the impression that he was not entirely keen on the whole thing.
No one responded to this, and an uncomfortable silence hung in the air for just a moment before Tabitha redirected the conversation, talking of lighter things that allowed us all the pretense of forgetting, at least for the moment, that a murder had occurred on the doorstep of this house not twenty-four hours before.
* * *
WE WENT TO the drawing room for after-dinner coffee, which many of our company took liberally infused with whiskey from a bottle Mr. Alden had fetched from his office. The mood was quiet and restrained.
I had told Milo that I would do my part to see what I could learn from the others since he was going to the speakeasy, so I determined to do my best to begin some sort of conversation with those present, to find out if any of them had a motive to kill Grant Palmer.
I decided to talk first to Mr. Elliot. I doubted very much that he would have wanted to kill his friend, but I did remember what Jemma Petrie had told me, how he and Mr. Palmer had quarreled over the attentions of a woman. Was it possible that he had killed out of jealousy?
“I’m very sorry about Mr. Palmer,” I said, as I took a seat beside him on the sofa. “I know you were good friends.”
He nodded. “I almost can’t believe he’s gone.”
“It always feels so useless to try to offer comfort in these situations. I know that nothing really helps but time.”
“It’s just such a shock. I guess at our age we think we’re going to live forever. I certainly never expected something like this to happen to Grant. He was the kind of guy who seemed invincible.”
I knew what he meant. Grant Palmer had carried himself with that careless disregard for the vagaries of life. It always seemed more surprising, somehow, when someone so wildly alive met with an untimely end.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve lost someone who was important to me,” Mr. Elliot said slowly, his eyes trained on the floor in front of him.
A Dangerous Engagement Page 11