A Lady's Guide to Gossip and Murder

by Dianne Freeman

  Mr. Ryan was missing from his post at the front desk. George and I waited at the counter for a moment. We shared a glance and a shrug then pushed through the swinging gate that blocked the reception area from the offices.

  “Seems the whole gang’s here,” Mosley said, when after a perfunctory knock, we stepped into the editor’s office. Inspector Delaney and a constable were already there. Mosley waved us inside.

  As George greeted Delaney, I sidled up to Mosley. “What has happened to Mr. Ryan? Never say you dismissed him?”

  “Naw.” Mosley gave an infinitesimal nod toward Delaney and the constable. “The lad makes himself scarce when certain people come to call.”

  Ah, that’s right. Ryan’s former life would not have made him friends with the police. I noted Mosley hadn’t used his usual epithet for the boy. Perhaps the man had a heart after all.

  “What brings the two of you here?” Delaney did not appear happy to see us.

  “We have another column to deliver to Mr. Mosley,” I said, holding up my envelope. “It is a boon that you happen to be here as we had hoped to speak with you as well. We have some information.”

  Delaney frowned at the editor who heaved a sigh, pushed his bulk up from the chair, and headed for the door. “I do have work to do today. Please keep your meeting brief.” He pulled the door closed behind him. Delaney took the editor’s chair behind the desk. George offered me a guest chair, and he and the constable remained standing.

  “I’m afraid what we have to tell you is a little off topic,” George began, “but if you bear with us, we can explain why it relates to the murders.”

  Delaney’s brows drew together in a single bushy line, but he remained silent. Between the two of us, we laid out the details of Archer’s fraudulent dealings. Explaining how we learned that at least two of the companies he sought investment for did not exist and that Archer simply put the money into his own pocket. We brought in the argument between Jasper Archer and Hugo Ridley that made him give up his job at the bank and seek employment in Edinburgh.

  “The note I gave you details all of this.” I placed my copy on the desk alongside a translated version. “I believe Mary knew what her brother-in-law was doing, and rather than blackmail him, she threatened him with exposure if he didn’t stop.”

  Delaney did not appear to welcome this information. “And you supposed that rather than cease these alleged illegal activities, Archer murdered his own sister-in-law.”

  I took a breath. “My brother-in-law lost six thousand pounds in one of Archer’s investments. It would be difficult to abandon such a lucrative operation, illegal or not. Someone murdered her. Archer had something to hide and I believe Mary threatened to expose it. He was also seen trying to enter her house a few days later, and he fits the description of the man seen fleeing her house on the night of the murder. Is that not enough for the police to question him?”

  “More than enough,” Delaney replied. “In fact, I finally convinced the man to meet with me this evening about the attempted entry of Mrs. Archer’s house. I’d like to confirm this information first, but I doubt there will be time.”

  He picked up the notes we’d laid on the desk and gave George a quizzical glance. “These gentlemen all admitted that they were taken in by Archer?”

  George shook his head. “Not at all. They still don’t realize they were taken in. They believe they made a bad investment and lost. I never told them the companies they invested in don’t exist. Wasn’t even sure of that myself until last night.”

  Delaney stared at him in astonishment. “Are you telling me that this man”—he glanced down at the note—“this Mr. Peterson handed over two thousand pounds without knowing anything about the investment?” He leaned over the desk toward us. “And the Earl of Harleigh, six thousand?”

  “They trusted their adviser.” George shrugged and leaned his back against the wall. “Many find it easier that way.”

  Delaney tutted. “The day I trust anyone that fully . . .”

  “Is the day you cease being an inspector.” I smiled at the man. “It’s not just your nature but your job to be suspicious of anything people tell you. The rest of us are more willing to trust the opinion of others. Particularly when an expert says he can turn your investment into a fortune.”

  “Does Archer know you’ve been checking up on him?”

  George crossed his arms over his chest. “I certainly hope not. Most of what we learned came through casual conversation. None of those men, or perhaps you’d call them victims, should be suspicious of our conversations, but any one of them could drop a comment to Archer, alerting him unwittingly.”

  Delaney nodded. “I’ll post a man near his home while we investigate. If we can arrest him for fraud, we can question him about the murders as well.” He spared a glance for his constable, who scribbled notes in a book of his own, then turned a steady glare on us. “Nicely done,” he muttered.

  I glowed under his approval. I must say I was beginning to like this role of investigator. It was much like working a puzzle, though the stakes were much higher. I’d always been good at puzzles and I liked to think I was rather good at this.

  “There’s one more thing,” George said. “We were hoping to learn if Mr. Mosley has received any correspondence from Mrs. Archer since her death.”

  His words brought me back to reality. So much for being a first-rate investigator. I’d forgotten why we even came here.

  Delaney looked confused, so I explained further. “Since we think Mrs. Archer was planning to confront her brother-in-law with a threat to his livelihood, we thought she may have taken precautions to ensure her safety. Perhaps by providing another person with the details of Archer’s fraud. Not just Jasper’s note, but some documented proof. If she did, we assume that person would be Mr. Norton. If she posted it, or asked someone to deliver it, it would have arrived after her death. We hoped to check around his office for something in Mary’s hand.”

  At this point the door opened and Mosley’s head appeared in the opening. “Are the three of you done yet? I really do have a great deal of work to do before my day is over.”

  Delaney stood. “Actually, we just decided to have another gander through Mr. Norton’s files. I’m afraid your work will have to wait unless you can do it elsewhere.”

  Mosley’s jaw sagged. With a quelling glare from Delaney, he snapped it shut. “Look here, I’ve been more than hospitable to you, so why don’t you tell me what it is you hope to find?” He jabbed a pencil in Delaney’s general direction. “After all, if you find the evidence for the murder in my office, I should be the one to break the story. It’s only fair.”

  Delaney pursed his lips, staring at the man. “And what’s to stop you from breaking the story before we make an arrest?”

  Mosley ground his teeth in impatience.

  “Perhaps we can tell him what we want, just not how it signifies,” George said.

  “What good does that do me?”

  I’d had enough. “Heavens, Mr. Mosley. If the inspector finds the evidence here, I’ll write your story myself. You’ll have more details than anyone else. Will that do?”

  Mosley grumbled. “Guess it’ll have to. Now, what do you need?”

  “Correspondence from Mrs. Archer.”

  “You have all that.” He waved a dismissive hand. “You blokes took everything with you right after Mr. Norton was murdered.”

  “We’re hoping to find correspondence delivered here after the murders,” I said. “Perhaps something hand delivered?”

  Mosley lumbered around the desk, grumbling under his breath. He pulled an open box off a shelf and plopped it on the desk. “Don’t know how you expect the woman to send something to her editor from beyond the grave, but feel free to look. This is everything that’s come in since Mr. Norton was killed.”

  The three of us dug into the stack of papers in the box and sorted through all the correspondence. Nothing from Mary. “It’s been over a week since the murders. If
she had made any arrangements for something to be delivered, it would certainly have arrived by now.”

  “We have no way of knowing if she took such a precaution,” George reminded me. “We were simply hopeful she had.”

  “Mary was a smart woman,” I said. “I can’t imagine her confronting Archer without some sort of security.”

  “Perhaps she trusted the man more than you would,” Delaney said. “Archer did seem to instill trust in those around him.”

  “I suppose that’s possible, yet Mary knew more than anyone else just how untrustworthy he was.”

  “She could hardly imagine he’d murder her.”

  “Well, since there’s nothing new here, I’d best be going.”

  Delaney told us he’d begin the work of confirming the information we provided. If it proved true, the police could at least arrest Archer on charges of fraud. A far cry from murder, but it was a start. Perhaps Archer would confess under the pressure of police questioning. I was relieved that all this would be in Delaney’s hands now.

  He preceded us out the door and I turned back automatically to bid Mr. Ryan a good afternoon, but his desk still stood empty.

  “Wait a moment.” I placed a hand on George’s arm. “There’s someone else we should ask.”

  By the time I checked with Mr. Mosley and asked for some suggestions of where Ryan might be, the young man had returned to his desk and was chatting with George. I gave him a smile as I approached the counter in front of his desk.

  “Mr. Ryan, I’m wondering if you can help me.”

  “Happy to help if I can, ma’am.” He gave me a nervous smile.

  George stepped aside as I leaned against the counter. “Mr. Hazelton and I are trying to find the man who murdered Mr. Norton and the woman who was Miss Information.”

  Ryan narrowed his eyes, watching me with caution. “You mean Mrs. Archer?”

  I sighed. “You do know. Mr. Norton did trust you.”

  “He knew he could, ma’am. I also know you aren’t Mrs. Archer’s sister. You don’t look nothing like her.”

  “No, I’m not her sister, but I was her friend and I want to find her killer. What I’m wondering is if a letter or package arrived for Mr. Norton since his death. Sent from Mrs. Archer.”

  The boy chewed on his lip and shook his head. I could understand his reluctance but I persisted. “Mr. Ryan, we are not the police. If you have anything, they needn’t know it came from you.”

  “She didn’t send anything to Mr. Norton,” he said. “She sent it to me.”

  With that he reached down and opened a drawer in his desk. Pulling out a large stuffed envelope, he hesitated before handing it to me. “The police and me don’t get along. I don’t want to have to talk to them.”

  George stepped forward. “I assure you, we’ll keep you out of this entirely.”

  Ryan nodded and handed me the package. I couldn’t help but notice the name on the mailing label. I exchanged a glance with George. “It’s from Mary.”

  “Yes, ma’am. She didn’t send things often, but when she did, I usually just gave it to Mr. Norton. With him gone, I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Thank you for trusting me, Mr. Ryan.” I broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out a book.

  “It’s an account book.” I placed it on the worn wood counter and opened it. With George at my side, we leafed through the pages of entries, wondering what to make of this discovery. “Why would Mary send this to Norton? The entries are over a year old.”

  He flipped to the last page of entries. “There!” He stabbed at one with his index finger. “South Sea Equity to Gerald Peterson. Two thousand pounds!” He closed the book and slapped his palm on the leather cover.

  Both Ryan and I watched this exhibition with some confusion. Especially when George leaned over the counter to shake Ryan by the hand.

  “What are you so excited about?” I asked.

  “This!” He slapped the book once more, opened the cover, and turned it to me with a delighted grin. “See for yourself.”

  I stared stupidly at the page of entries until he placed his finger at the end of a row. The initials G A stood out. In fact, each entry was initialed G A. I drew in a breath as I glanced up at him. “Gordon Archer.”

  He grinned. “This isn’t Mary’s account book; it belongs to Archer. It’s where he kept track of his nefarious deals. And it came from Mary Archer. This is what she was holding over his head. She had absolute proof of what he was up to.”

  “Heavens!” I prodded George to the door. “We must get this to Delaney.”

  Delaney and the constable had still been outside and if possible, he was even more delighted with this new bit of evidence than George had been. I doubt he even heard us when we told him we’d found it in a mail bin. His smile grew with each entry he read. “This should definitely speed up the process,” he said.

  * * *

  Sir Hugo and Lady Ridley had no country home. Not that they couldn’t afford one—they simply loved their city life. Hugo eschewed all sporting activities and Miriam busied herself with several charitable organizations in town, and the constant refurbishment of their home. This would be society’s first glimpse of the Ridleys’ new reception hall. They’d been working on it for months and it was finally completed in time for the largest event of the summer, the Glorious Twelfth reception.

  We passed the small sitting room I’d visited just yesterday, and through an arch at the end of a short hallway that opened up to a two-story room. A gallery surrounded three-quarters of the second floor. The gallery ended at a back wall of windows. Just below them the doors were thrown open and the scent of roses from the garden wafted in. While guests mingled in the theaterlike room, musicians serenaded us from a small salon off to the side.

  We quickly lost Lily as Leo came to claim her attention. George and Hetty went in search of Mr. Kendrick to inquire as to his knowledge of the remaining three potentially fraudulent companies. That left me with Lottie, and as we had no greater task than socializing, we set ourselves to do just that.

  I felt rather carefree. We had turned over our information to Delaney, and I was certain he’d be arresting Archer soon. I considered this a job well done.

  “Lady Harleigh. Miss Deaver.”

  We turned to find Charles Evingdon heading our way, bearing two glasses of wine. Lottie brightened immediately. I, too, was pleased to see him. After the incident with Caroline Archer he’d taken himself back to his home where he’d planned to stay hidden away.

  With a dramatic flourish, he handed each of us a glass. Lottie blushed and spilled half the contents of her glass onto her hem and shoe. I pretended not to notice and turned back to Charles.

  “I’m delighted to see you out in society again.”

  His grin fairly beamed, dimples and eyes joining in. “Couldn’t believe my luck in receiving this invitation. Thought I was definitely persona non-something or other. But here I am.”

  “Society is very fickle. We all knew you could never do such a thing.” My cheeks grew warm when I recalled that I had indeed wondered.

  “That is excellent news indeed, Mr. Evingdon,” Lottie said.

  “Yes, I’m pleased I can once again show my face about town without frightening people.” He gave her a charming smile. “Perhaps you’d like to listen to the music in the other room, Miss Deaver?”

  The girl blushed furiously and accepted his arm. I declined, saying I wished to find our hostess. Once they left, I glanced around the room and instead saw George and Hetty in conversation with Mr. Kendrick. Yes, I know I was supposed to be done with this investigation, but that didn’t put a stop to my curiosity.

  Before I could join their group, Graham appeared at my side and after a rushed greeting, he leaned in and lowered his voice.

  “You will be amazed to hear my news,” he said. “Gordon Archer has been arrested this evening.”

  Amazement didn’t begin to describe my feelings. Delaney had moved swiftly. “Do you know
why?” I asked.

  Graham shook his head. “My valet saw the police take him away less than an hour ago. Told me about it while I was dressing.” He shrugged. “However, Hetty has been telling me that Archer has been operating a confidence scheme. Perhaps the police have found him out.”

  I conjured an expression of astonishment. “My goodness. If they have, it must give you some satisfaction to find he’ll face charges. I wonder if you have any chance of getting your money back.”

  He brightened. “I hadn’t thought of that. Though I’m not certain Hetty’s right about my investment with Archer. I find it hard to believe fraud was involved.”

  I raised a brow. “Aunt Hetty’s usually quite good at this. Why do you doubt her?”

  “She claims the company doesn’t even exist but I know others who invested in it and did very well. Ridley for one.” He shrugged. “Perhaps my investment was just made at the wrong time.”

  “Really? Ridley invested in the same company and made a profit?”

  “And a very good one at that. In fact, it was Ridley who encouraged me to invest.”

  Was it? How very interesting.

  Chapter 23

  It took a good thirty minutes to catch up with George again. I finally spotted him when I peeked into the music room. One of the younger Argyle girls was giving a creditable performance of Chopin’s Waltz in E minor for an audience of a dozen or so. Though Lottie and Charles were clearly not attending. They were seated near the back, their heads together in whispered conversation, while George sat behind them, acting as chaperone.

  I tapped him on the shoulder as I swept behind him, nodding to a door along the side of the room, before heading that way myself. Outside the door was a dark hallway, which I assumed led to the private family apartments. After a few moments, the door opened, music poured out, and he joined me.

  “Had I known you wanted to get me alone in the dark, Frances, we could have arranged to send the others to this soiree on their own and had your house to ourselves.” He waggled his brows.

  “George, please.”