The Case of the Troubled Tycoon: A Gilded Age Historical Cozy Mystery (Shipwreck Point Mysteries Book 5)

by Elise M Stone

  Chapman regarded the lawyer, then lowered his fist. In return, Muir let go of the man’s arm.

  “That’s better.” He breathed a little easier, then thought furiously for a way to negotiate a permanent truce. “Can you prove that you own this particular clock?” Titus asked Chapman.

  “Of course I can. I must still have the bill of sale from when I purchased it, although it may be in my office in Boston. If I recall correctly, there’s a maker’s mark and a number on the back of the clock that matches that bill of sale.”

  “Very good. Mr. Muir, are you willing to surrender the clock if Mr. Chapman can produce that bill of sale?”

  The bicycle manufacturer didn’t respond immediately. He raised his hand to his chin and scratched it as if his whiskers itched. After a few seconds, he lowered his hand and said, “I believe I would be willing to do that.”

  Titus nodded, then turned toward Chapman again. “Will you be willing to allow Mr. Muir to retain possession of the cuckoo clock until such time as you produce that bill of sale?”

  Chapman frowned. Although obviously not happy at not being able to reclaim his clock immediately, he at last nodded. “I am.”

  “That’s settled, then.”

  Still miffed, Chapman turned on his heel and left.

  After he left, Muir turned to the lawyer. “I’m not sure I’m in total agreement with your solution, but I thank you for stepping in. Was there something you wanted to speak to me about?”

  “There was.”

  “I hope the topic won’t be as contentious as those Chapman brought up.”

  “I can agree with you there.” Titus took a deep breath. He didn’t want to alienate the man, but if he didn’t make his terms clear from the beginning, he might regret an assumption that he was working pro bono. “If I’m to perform in an official capacity for this group, I’ll expect to be paid for my time, including the research I spoke of earlier.”

  “Why, of course you’ll be paid. I’m surprised you had any doubt of that. In fact, if it will ease your mind, send the bill for this evening’s time to me, and I’ll pay it personally until the club has a treasurer and a bank account.”

  “I’ll have my secretary do that on Monday.” Relief washed over him. While he expected business would pick up once the summer season began, there were still several months to get through until then.

  CHAPTER 3

  Titus Strong watched his image in the full-length mirror as Hathaway brushed invisible dust from the shoulders of his jacket. Life had certainly changed since his manservant had joined him in Whitby. No longer did he have to wear a slightly soiled shirt because he’d forgotten to take his clothes to the laundry, or buff his shoes at the last minute before heading out to his office. Hathaway took care of everything. He’d even reminded him to change his shirt after dinner before going to the meeting at the home of Arthur Muir last night.

  “I think you can cease your brushing now.”

  His manservant’s eyes met his in the glass, a hint of astonishment briefly sweeping over his features before they settled into his usual imperturbable expression. “I’ll go up to Mayfield Road and engage a hansom cab for you then.”

  “Thank you, Hathaway, but I planned on taking the trolley out to Miss Wade’s this morning. At Mr. Payne’s request, it’s making extra trips today because of the Garden Club Tour.”

  “Very good, sir. Is there anything else you need?”

  Titus smiled. “Not at the moment. Why don’t you and Martha take the rest of the day off? You might enjoy getting out for a change yourselves.”

  “In that case, I’m sure Martha would be pleased to travel into Boston to visit her daughter. I’ll make sure she prepares something for your supper before she goes.”

  Not wanting to trouble the woman, Titus hurried to say, “I believe Miss Wade and I will dine out this evening.” That hadn’t been in his plans, but he thought Elisabeth would enjoy it. Since moving out of the Seaview Hotel, he hadn’t taken many meals out, and certainly Elisabeth hadn’t. Not to his knowledge, anyway.

  “And how will you spend your day off?”

  “I thought I might take the opportunity to polish the silver.”

  “That’s not a day off, Hathaway. Certainly, the few pieces of silver I own could be polished on some other day. Why don’t you take a walk along the seashore or go into Boston yourself?”

  “Perhaps I might do that,” Hathaway replied. “The walk, not the trip to Boston. Truthfully, I enjoy Whitby a lot more than I ever did Boston.”

  “As do I,” Titus said. “As do I.”

  He exited his bedroom for the second floor landing, noting that the electric lights were on not only over the stairs, but in the entrance hall, and streaming from the library doorway on the floor below. He’d have to remind Martha to turn off the lights when she left a room. Most people were used to leaving gaslights on rather than adjusting the flow and needing to carry matches all the time, but the electricity could be turned on and off with the flick of a switch. And should be, if he was going to economize.

  He hated the need to be always mindful of expenses, but the mortgage on his new townhouse wasn’t much less than the tariff on his rooms at the Seaview Hotel had been, not when he included the cost of Hathaway and his housekeeper. He could only hope that there’d be more need of his services now that spring had arrived and the tourists from Boston would be returning. He smiled at the thought of the check he could now count on from Arthur Muir.

  There was a bounce in his step and a song in his heart as he climbed Spyglass Hill on his way to Mayfield Road, the main thoroughfare that ran down the spine of the peninsula known as Shipwreck Point.

  Elisabeth’s hands shook as she fastened the tiny pearl buttons on her new shirtwaist. Green buds dotted the yellow silk fabric, which seemed appropriate for a garden tour, but now she was doubting the wisdom of buying such an item. Not able to afford a new spring walking outfit, she’d told herself she at least deserved a fresh blouse to wear with her old one. But perhaps she could have found a garment in cotton that would have served just as well.

  “How pretty you look, ma’am,” Annie, her maid-of-all-work, gushed.

  Elisabeth sighed in what she pretended was exasperation, then tempered the sigh with a smile. “I thought you were going to call me Miss Wade,” she chided. “In fact, I still think Elisabeth would be better.”

  “No, ma’—Miss Wade.” Annie shook her head. “I’ll call you Miss Wade, or just miss, if you wouldn’t mind, but using your Christian name wouldn’t be at all proper.”

  She supposed that would have to do. She still wasn’t used to having a maid, not having been raised in a houseful of servants, but she had to admit it was nice to have another woman in the house, even if she wasn’t really a friend. Yet. Elisabeth was about to reach for the jacket to her walking costume, then stopped, thinking this would be as good a time as any to practice becoming used to having a maid. “Would you fetch my jacket for me?”

  The girl quickly turned and removed the requested garment from the closet. She held it up behind her mistress, who slid her arms into the sleeves. Elisabeth was pleased that the color of the walking costume matched the buds on the shirtwaist perfectly.

  From downstairs came the sound of a knock, followed by the enthusiastic barking of one very excited border terrier. Her heart beat a little faster. “Oh! That will be Mr. Strong. I’d better answer the door before Daisy deafens him.”

  “Daisy and Mr. Strong will be fine for a few more minutes,” Annie said. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Puzzled, Elisabeth slowly shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” Although she could never be sure. While she was a fully competent secretary who remembered the location of every file and each piece of correspondence, when it came to playing the part of a lady, she couldn’t help but feel she was always forgetting something.

  “Your hat, Miss Wade. The sun is very strong now that winter has passed, and you’ll want to shade your face.
Ladies shouldn’t have freckles. Them’s reserved for folks like me.”

  The ribbons on the wide-brimmed straw boater she usually wore in summer had shredded last year, and she hadn’t thought to replace them until Annie had mentioned the state of them a week ago. Elisabeth was about to object that she couldn’t possibly wear the shabby hat, but the maid had already retrieved the item and was holding it out toward her.

  “You’ve replaced the ribbons! And with lovely green ones to match my outfit. How did you ever know…?”

  Annie was blushing with pleasure. “It’s my place, Miss Wade, to make sure my mistress is dressed properly and attend to any mending or freshening her clothes might require.”

  “You spoil me, Annie. I’ll never be able to do without you now that I’ve gotten used to your ministrations.”

  A particularly loud bark interrupted their conversation.

  “And now I really need to answer the door.”

  “I’ll answer the door. You stay here, ma’am, and put on your hat. You count to ten, then come down like the lady you are.” With that, the girl hurried out of the room and downstairs.

  Annie’s mischievous look was nothing new where her relationship with Titus Strong was concerned. The girl would insist on playing matchmaker, even though there was no reason to. Mr. Strong was her employer. If he deigned to escort her on some of her outings in Whitby, it was because he was a gentleman and didn’t like to see her unaccompanied. It had nothing to do with whatever personal relationship might exist in either of their lives. The moment at Christmas had merely been the result of a bottle of excellent Bordeaux and the sentimentality of the season. There’d been nothing since to say otherwise.

  Elisabeth put the hat on and tied a bow under her chin. She tilted her head to observe the effect in the glass. Definitely coquettish. She smiled a mischievous smile of her own before heading toward the staircase.

  Lifting her skirts just the slightest bit and watching her steps so she wouldn’t trip going down, her first glance at Titus was at the bottom of them. She caught him raising his eyes from where he’d obviously been looking at her exposed ankles, to having them gaze fondly at her face. Remembering the effect in the mirror upstairs, Elisabeth tipped her head toward her shoulder. She was gratified to see a smile come to his lips and a sparkle dance in his eyes.

  “How lovely you look today.” He slid the brim of the fedora he held in front of him through his fingers.

  His rich baritone thrilled her almost as much as the words, and she was relieved to discover he was as nervous as she was. It was as if they’d never been together outside of work before. She blushed as she realized she hadn’t responded to his compliment. “Thank you, Titus. I’m sure all the grand ladies from Boston will be wearing more splendid finery than I am.”

  “But none will wear it better.”

  “Ruff!” Daisy interrupted and wriggled all over as her tail thrashed the air vigorously.

  “No, Daisy. We won’t be taking you with us today.”

  As if she understood her mistress, the border terrier dropped to the floor and put her head between her paws, looking so forlorn Elisabeth had to laugh.

  “Some other time, Daisy,” Titus said as he held out his arm. “Shall we go?”

  They descended the steps leading from the small porch down to the walk. As they reached the road, Titus asked, “Which way shall we go?”

  Elisabeth pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “Fortunately, the Whitby Garden Club has provided a tour guide of all the participating gardens. If we head toward Jackson Street, we can make our first stop at the home of J. B. Holmes.”

  “Ah. Is Caroline a member of the garden club, then?” Titus asked, naming the wife of the department store mogul whose summer cottage they were going to see.

  “I don’t know for certain, but it would be natural for her to join. Ladies have to have some reason to get together now that paying calls has become less common.”

  “Like you and your Chautauqua Club,” Titus said.

  She wasn’t sure if he was making fun of her or not for joining a book club that, to its founder, was an excuse to promote woman suffrage, as well as read interesting stories. She told herself she was much too sensitive about his opinions. “Like my Chautauqua Club,” she affirmed.

  The weather was perfect for April, with not a hint of winter left in the breeze coming in off the ocean, although she was glad of her jacket. Despite the fact there were a limited number of homes on the official garden tour, all of Whitby participated in one way or another. She noticed pots of flowers on the steps of most of the houses, and daffodils lining the walk of one.

  “Did you bring your business cards?” she asked.

  The tips of his ears reddened. “I did.”

  “Good.” She’d persuaded the lawyer to accompany her on the basis that it could be good for business. He’d mentioned how Ranson Payne, now the chairman of the board of selectmen, had achieved his position partly by attending every social event in town, using the opportunity to promote his political ambitions. Elisabeth had reacted by insisting she order business cards for him and suggesting he go on the Whitby Garden Club tour with her as a start. “Be sure to offer one to anyone who might have need of a lawyer.”

  When they reached the end of Jackson Street, they turned into the circular drive in front of the Holmes cottage. A lavish display of early blooming, purplish-red April Rose Rhododendrons with equally lovely pale pink Royal Azaleas interspersed among them extended in front of the full length of the porch. A few particularly large specimens were featured at the entrance leading to the house. Caroline Holmes herself stood on the lowest step, which kept her in the shade while waiting for visitors.

  “Elisabeth. Titus. How delightful to see you again.”

  “It’s good to see you, too,” Elisabeth said as Titus tipped his head to acknowledge the greeting. “What a lovely garden you have.”

  “Thank you, Elisabeth. To tell the truth, it was all I could manage to get these planted last fall before the frost set in. I hope to have a better one next year, although I’m not quite sure where. JB was so focused on ensuring we had an oceanfront property, we never considered room for a garden.”

  “And it is so hard to grow things in the sandy soil here,” Elisabeth commiserated.

  “Which makes it even more impressive that you’ve done such a masterful job of it,” Titus said.

  In truth, Elisabeth was certain Caroline Holmes had done very little of the planting herself. If you were of her class, you had a gardener—maybe more than one—to take care of that for you. But the wealthy always pretended it was all their doing.

  “Are you here for the summer, then?” Titus asked.

  “Not yet,” Mrs. Holmes said. “We probably won’t be back until Decoration Day, and then it will be weekends until the Fourth of July.”

  “A sensible plan,” Titus said. “You’ll have to join us for dinner when you’re settled in.”

  Us? She hoped Titus wasn’t thinking of having her host a dinner party in her tiny bungalow. Quickly, she added, “Yes. Titus’s new townhouse is lovely. I’m sure he would like to show it off.”

  “Thank you. We’d love to.”

  “Shall we continue our tour?” Elisabeth said to Titus. “We have so many gardens to see this afternoon, if we don’t keep walking, we’re liable to run out of time.”

  “If you’ll excuse us?” he said to Caroline Holmes.

  “Of course.”

  Once they were out of earshot, Titus asked, “Why the hurry?”

  Because she didn’t want him to commit to any more social events with the aristocracy! But that wasn’t what she said. “We really do have a lot of gardens to see. I don’t want to miss any of them.”

  He raised an eyebrow, signaling he didn’t quite believe her reason, but didn’t pursue the topic any further. “Where to next?”

  “Rose’s. Her home is on the next street over.”

  It didn’t take long to view Ros
e Baldwin’s garden, which was a couple of plebeian beds of daffodils and what was left of the crocuses. Elisabeth shouldn’t have expected much more since Rose was still officially in mourning. Not that she’d ever truly mourned her husband, but proprieties had to be observed.

  She pulled the garden club flyer from her pocket again to find their next destination. Titus’s breath tickled her neck as he leaned close to read it. He sharply sucked in air as his finger trailed down to the next name.

  “Pauline Chapman?”

  Jealousy twinged in her heart. She carefully made her voice tone neutral. “Do you know her?”

  “Not yet, but I presume I will shortly, even if it’s not on this garden tour.” He must have seen the puzzled look on her face as she tried to figure out what he meant because he added, “In an adversarial manner. Her husband has accused my latest client of theft.”

  CHAPTER 4

  As they strolled down Ocean Avenue toward their next stop, Elisabeth couldn’t help but ask, “When did you acquire this latest client? I know it wasn’t at the office.”

  He gave her a gentle, reassuring smile. “Last night, at the first meeting to inaugurate the Whitby Yacht Club.”

  “So there really is going to be one?” Of course, she’d heard talk of the men in Whitby desiring a yacht club, but she hadn’t realized it had been anything but talk.

  “It appears so. If the future members can cooperate long enough to get it organized.”

  Titus went on to describe the contention for the commodore’s position, the disagreement as to who would make an appropriate candidate, and ending with the accusation Mr. Chapman had brought against Mr. Muir. “And, of course, the situation has been made worse because the clock was the last gift Arthur Muir received from his late wife. He’s determined to keep it because of that.”

  “But how are you involved?”

  “Mr. Muir, realizing his temper was on the verge of getting the better of him, requested that I represent him in the resolution of the issue.”