Mimi had woken up about fifteen minutes ago. She already knew where she was and she already knew that only a few feet away was a telephone – the same telephone the Poppy lady had used. But she knew too there was no chance she would be able to use it, as seated between her and the telephone was someone she’d never met before – someone who had made it clear that if she tried to run, or scream, or do anything the woman did not like, she, or her sister, would be shot.
The woman sat quietly with the gun on her lap, staring into the flames of a fire in the grate. The pine cones popped and sizzled, and under any other circumstances it might have been described as a cheerful blaze.
But the woman scowled, her brows furrowed, deep in thought.
Poppy, breathless, climbed the steps onto the front porch of The Lodge. She was about to burst in, when suddenly it occurred to her that the house might not be unoccupied. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Perhaps Slick and Parker were not acting alone… She fell to her haunches and shuffled along the porch and hid herself, as best she could, behind some pot plants. She needed to think a moment, but not too long… She didn’t know how long poor Delilah had. Who could be in the house? Any of the Spencers. Toby had told her it belonged to the extended family. Cousins had been mentioned… But who would let Parker set up a makeshift film set on their private beach – a command performance at gunpoint? Or didn’t they know? Surely they would see the lights… and the motor car… two motor cars! Slick’s and another one. There was definitely someone here. Miles? It wasn’t his fancy sports car. Toby? To be honest, she didn’t know what he drove. Mr and Mrs Spencer? Other family members…
Time’s running out! Nonetheless she didn’t want to barge in through the front door – not if whoever was inside was in cahoots with Parker. The lights were only shining on the ground floor, so the chances were that whoever was in the house was downstairs. She got up on her knees and peered into the nearest window – the trophy room: a small lamp in the corner but otherwise it seemed unoccupied. She crawled along, looking in each window. Some curtains were drawn, some not. Then she came to what, from what she could recall of the layout of the house, was probably the library. She edged up, clutching the metal ring, and… bingo! There were three people in the room. Two on a sofa and one in an armchair. Poppy could not see the person in the armchair very well; their back was to the window. But on the sofa was a very frightened looking Mimi Yazierska and beside her the sleeping form of another young woman, most probably her sister, Estie. Mimi looked towards the window. Her eyes caught Poppy’s; her eyebrows rose in surprise. Then her eyes flicked towards the person in the armchair. Poppy still could not see, but from Mimi’s expression the person was likely a captor, not a captive. What should I do now?
Suddenly, there was the roar of an engine and the blaze of car lights. Poppy crouched down again. Who’s coming now?
Down on the drive a car pulled up and three people jumped out of the vehicle: Rollo Rolandson, Elizabeth Dorchester and… Poppy’s stomach lurched… Alfie Dorchester. Suddenly, a human shadow was cast further along the porch, suggesting someone was standing at a window, in front of a light. The movement caught Rollo’s eye and he looked towards the library. Poppy tried to get his attention, but he was looking at the lit window, not the shadowy porch. And then the shadow moved away.
“Rollo!” called Poppy in a stage whisper.
“Hold on, Poppy, I’m coming!” hissed the editor in reply. He ran as fast as he could up to the front porch. Meantime, screams from the beach suggested all was not well with Delilah. Poppy was just about to run back to help her when Elizabeth and Alfie turned and ran in the direction of the cries for help. Elizabeth was carrying a tyre iron. She wasn’t sure why Alfie was there, but she had no doubt Elizabeth would do her best to save Delilah. Poppy turned her attention back to Rollo, hoping to intercept him. But it was too late. He had run past without seeing her and was already in the house. She ran through the front door and across the foyer, just in time to see Rollo push open the library door.
“Where are you, Poppy?” he asked. And then he stopped in his tracks.
“Rollo Rolandson,” came a woman’s voice. “Why can’t you keep out of other people’s business?”
Poppy recognized the patrician tones of Amelia Spencer. She edged forward, trying to alert Rollo that she was there, but not wanting to be seen by Amelia. If the woman didn’t know she was on the loose she might still be able to use the element of surprise to her advantage.
“Rollo!” Poppy whispered, as close to him as she dared. He tensed. Had he heard her? “Don’t turn around. I’m here. I’m fine. Does she have a gun? Nod if she does.”
Rollo nodded.
“Then keep her talking.”
And Rollo did, giving Poppy time to think of what to do next.
“It’s hard to keep my nose out of your business, Amelia, when you insist on getting involved in so many newsworthy stories. Oh, and by the way, the police are on their way.”
The police are on their way! Or is he bluffing?
Poppy wondered what was happening down at the lake. She cocked her ear to hear. The screaming had stopped. Was that a good thing?
Back in the library, Rollo and Amelia continued their conversation. Poppy tried to imagine what the woman was doing. What were the Yazierska girls doing? Where exactly were they positioned? Could they overpower Amelia if necessary?
“Why don’t you put the gun down, Amelia, and let those girls go? They’ve done nothing to you.”
There was silence for a moment, then Amelia’s reply. Her voice was devoid of any emotion, almost matter-of-fact. “They haven’t. But now they know too much.”
“What about?” asked Rollo.
Amelia laughed mirthlessly. “Are you trying to trap me into a confession?”
“Do you have one to make?”
Mrs Spencer’s voice puffed with derision. “Of course not. I am just having a quiet night at the lake. I needed to get away for a few days.”
“A quiet night in, holding two young women hostage, or didn’t you know they were going to be here? Did you arrange to meet Parker? Did he bring them here?” asked Rollo.
“Parker?” There was a slight edge to Amelia’s voice.
“Yes, the police should be arresting him” – there was a pause and Poppy imagined Rollo looking at his watch – “about now.”
Oh, if only that were true! She must think of something. What could she do?
“We know that you murdered von Hassler, Amelia; his housekeeper has told us everything.”
There was silence for a moment. Poppy could imagine Mrs Parker weighing up the damning evidence provided by Mrs Lawson. It was a difficult accusation to sidestep.
A slight note of concern slipped into Amelia’s voice. “That woman has got it all wrong. It wasn’t murder. And I’m sure I can convince the police of that. Who will they believe: a negro woman or me? I didn’t mean to kill him, you know, but he wouldn’t stop telling filthy lies about my husband. I hit him – yes – but I didn’t mean to kill him. I’m sure the judge will understand that. A respectable woman like me.”
And then, finally, Poppy knew what she had to do. She headed as quietly as she could back to the door.
“How did Parker get involved?” asked Rollo.
“I’m not being interviewed here for a New York Times exclusive, Rolandson. Get in here. You, girl – tie him up.”
Poppy heard something indecipherable; half in Russian, half in English. Then, as she exited the house and made her way back along the porch, she could hear no more. She could, however, hear shouts – and shots! – from the lake. Dear God! Delilah! She turned, tempted for a moment to go and help her friend, but then pulled herself up. I’m too far away to help her now. But I can still help Rollo…
At the library window Poppy peeked in. Amelia Spencer was standing in the middle of the floor, her back to the window. Her gun was trained on Rollo and Mimi as the Jewish girl fumbled to tie a scarf around Rollo’s wr
ists.
Now! Poppy swung the iron ring with all her might. The window smashed. Amelia turned and cowered as glass cascaded around her; then Mimi and Rollo jumped on her from behind. The other girl, who had just woken up, piled in too. Amidst screams and flailing limbs, Rollo crawled out of the scrum holding the gun. He pointed it in the air and fired. The three wrestling women froze. Rollo looked up at the window and grinned. “Good work, Miz Denby.”
Poppy left Rollo to deal with Amelia and the two girls and ran towards the lake. I hope I’m not too late!
She stumbled and fell onto the gravel drive, the stones tearing her silk stockings and gouging her flesh. Damn this ring! But she dragged herself back up and continued to run – over the road and towards the maples and the lake beyond. Then, as she breached the tree-line she was met by the bloodied faces of Howard Parker and his sidekick Slick, whose nose was splayed across his face.
“All under control here, Poppy,” said Elizabeth Dorchester, with Slick’s gun trained on the two men, the only indication of her part in the scuffle an angry welt on her left cheek. But Poppy continued to run. “Delilah!”
“She’s all right!” called back Elizabeth.
As Poppy stumbled onto the shoreline, she saw that she was. A wet, bedraggled, but very much alive Delilah was in the arms of an equally wet Alfie Dorchester, standing knee deep in the lake. He waded the rest of the way to shore and laid the quivering actress on the beach. Poppy fell to her knees beside her friend. “Delilah! Are you all right?”
“I-I am. Th-thanks to Al-Alfie. He s-saved my life, Poppy!”
Poppy looked up and into the blue eyes of the man who had once tried to kill her. “Why?” was all she could say.
Alfie ran his hand across his face, wiping away the lake water. “I’m not a killer, Poppy. I never meant to hurt you in London. I just wanted to scare you. I drove the car at you – yes – but I didn’t mean to hit you. If I had, I would have just left you there in the street. But I didn’t. I took you to hospital. I saved your life.”
Poppy felt a blaze of anger. But she suppressed it. He was lying, she was sure of it, but he had saved Delilah.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“You’re right, I won’t,” Poppy growled.
“I’ve done some terrible things – I know that – but I couldn’t say no to my father. I’m a coward – I admit it.”
Poppy could hear the sound of police sirens getting closer. “You deserve to be in prison,” she spat.
Alfie lowered his eyes. “Perhaps. Goodbye, Poppy. Goodbye, Delilah. And good luck.”
And with that, Alfie Dorchester, also known as Otto von Riesling, ran off into the night.
CHAPTER 40
THURSDAY, 25 APRIL 1921
The front-page article of The New York Times:
SENATOR’S WIFE & FILM PRODUCER CHARGED WITH MURDER
By Judson Quinn
NEW YORK – Amelia Spencer, wife of Senator Theodore Spencer of Long Island, has been charged with the murder of millionaire Prince Hans von Hassler in his Lexington Avenue penthouse.
Hollywood producer Howard Parker (60), best known for Baby and the Bluebird, has been charged as an accessory to the murder in which the prince (83) was struck on the back of the head.
In a sensational sting, orchestrated by undercover NYT reporters Rollo Rolandson and Poppy Denby – in which Miss Denby and her friend the actress Delilah Marconi’s lives were at risk – Mrs Spencer (55) admitted to killing the prince to “keep him quiet” about her husband’s love life.
Sources in the NYPD have told the Times that she allegedly then went on to use her husband’s senatorial credentials to put pressure on the coroner’s office to declare the death accidental. Police are currently investigating those allegations.
Howard Parker, who lives in the apartment below the prince, allegedly found out about the suspicious circumstances surrounding the death via the prince’s housekeeper, a Mrs Nora Lawson (68), who had worked for von Hassler for twenty years.
Investigations by this newspaper have revealed that he then examined the visitor book in the lobby of Lexington Towers, a luxury apartment complex in the heart of Manhattan, and discovered that Mrs Spencer visited the prince on the night of his death.
Further investigations have revealed Parker, Senator Spencer, and von Hassler were partners in the film company Black Horse Productions, which was financed by means of profit from a factory in the New York Garment District, Magriet Fashions.
A parallel investigation by this newspaper has uncovered that Magriet Fashions was using illegal immigrants as slave labor and, in some cases, forced prostitution.
Evidence of this has been passed to the Department of Immigration, which has assured the Times that in return for their co-operation in exposing the trafficking ring – which is believed to have trans-Atlantic connections – the fifteen women who were imprisoned there will be granted leave to remain in the United States.
Prince von Hassler’s attorney, Richard Barnes, has told the Times he has passed evidence over to the police that Howard Parker was attempting to frame the prince’s nephew and heir, Count Otto von Riesling, for his uncle’s murder.
Mr Barnes suggests this was in order to remove von Riesling from the board of Magriet Fashions. Von Riesling and his uncle had allegedly been concerned about the use of slave labor in the factory.
Mrs Nora Lawson, the housekeeper, confessed to the Times that she had taken a bribe from Parker to implicate von Riesling. She said she had agreed because “I didn’t like the boy and he has made Prince Hans’s life a misery”. It is alleged that von Riesling had been blackmailing his uncle for the last three years about his involvement in homosexual activities.
However, in a bizarre twist, it can be revealed that the Times, in a joint investigation with the British Secret Service, has discovered that the real Otto von Riesling is in fact in Monte Carlo and that a British aristocrat, Viscount Alfie Dorchester, had been impersonating him in New York.
Dorchester, a disgraced war hero who has been stripped of his fraudulently obtained Victoria Cross, is already wanted for attempted murder in London, and is a fugitive from justice.
This newspaper can now reveal that the woman he tried to kill in England is none other than our very own reporter, Poppy Denby, who is currently on loan to us from the London Daily Globe.
However, in circumstances that are still unclear, Dorchester, with the help of his sister Elizabeth, helped save the life of Miss Delilah Marconi in the sting that brought Amelia Spencer and Howard Parker to justice at the Spencers’ luxury holiday lodge on Lake Ronkonkoma.
Dorchester is again on the run and we may never know his true motivation until he is caught. If anyone recognizes Dorchester (aka von Riesling) from the photograph below, please report it to the police immediately.
THREE MONTHS LATER: 13 JULY 1921, SOUTHAMPTON
Poppy, Delilah, Rollo, Aunt Dot, and Miss King waited for the gangplank from the Olympic to be lowered at Southampton harbour. It was a glorious summer’s day and Poppy felt hot in her new green coat, bought to replace the one she had given to Mimi Yazierska three months earlier.
Poppy smiled as she thought of the last time she had seen Mimi and Estie. It was at Elizabeth’s settlement house. The former suffragette had offered to take the two girls in until their status with the Immigration Department and the various court cases involving the Spencers and Parker were finalized. Although Estie spoke no English, the bubbly Helena soon befriended her and the girls were now inseparable.
Mimi was given the job of managing the small library. Her English was improving every day, and with money received from the von Hassler estate for suffering endured in one of the prince’s businesses, she intended to go to college and fulfil her dream of becoming a teacher.
Poppy had got very little more information from Elizabeth about her brother. The older woman had become guarded and just said: “Let sleeping dogs lie, Poppy.” It galled Poppy to do so, but she agreed – f
or now. She also agreed not to mention to the police that Elizabeth had given refuge to Alfie. Whatever her thoughts about the suffragette’s gullibility regarding her dastardly brother, Poppy recognized that Elizabeth was doing a wonderful job with the settlement house and she had, after all, saved Delilah’s life.
Poppy finally found out what had happened at the beach. Delilah, it seemed, had weights tied to her ankles and was about to be dropped from the boat by Slick, while Parker filmed from the shore. He was so busy preparing to capture the dying moments of the Lady of the Lake that he didn’t hear Elizabeth and Alfie sneak up behind him. There was a scuffle which was swiftly brought to an end when Elizabeth retrieved the gun from the director’s chair.
Alfie swam out and dealt with Slick, who, without his weapon, was no match for the younger man, but in the process Slick and Delilah fell overboard. Slick swam back to shore where he was greeted by Elizabeth at gunpoint, while Alfie dived in and saved Delilah from drowning. And it was all captured on film! The police, who arrived shortly afterwards, confiscated the reel for evidence.
But that was as far as Delilah’s film career went. Although he had been cleared of any involvement in von Hassler’s murder or the shenanigans at the garment factory, Delilah could not bring herself to go to Hollywood with Miles. They parted as friends, and Poppy would not be the least surprised if something came of the relationship – and the film career – in the future.
Instead, for the next three months, Delilah worked with Aunt Dot on a series of radio dramas. Poppy smiled down at her aunt, resplendent in her fuchsia travelling coat and hat. The ageing actress and former suffragette had come alive in New York as she was given a chance to re-launch her career. She was returning to London as an up-and-coming radio star – and, Poppy chuckled, London had better watch out!
Behind her the quiet, dependable figure of Miss King was always present to serve her employer’s needs. But her days were numbered. On the cruise home she had informed Aunt Dot that she had been offered a post as a companion in the south of France and she would be serving her notice when they got home. Aunt Dot said she would write her an excellent reference and wished her well.
The Death Beat Page 28