by Kate Parker
“Yes, well, thank you.” He cleared his throat. “So why are you here?”
“To give our statements to the police about my uncle’s kidnapping and my father being shot by Lady Westkirk.”
The new Lord Westkirk looked from one of us to another. “Heavens. Is he going to live?”
“She just winged me,” my father said and grinned.
Uncle Thomas murmured “Oh, well,” earning a dark look from my grandfather.
“Then you had a very lucky escape from her,” the new lord huffed out.
At that moment, James came down the hall with a constable and stopped in front of my uncle. “Mr. Marlowe wants to speak to you and your niece. You may have a few minutes while I speak to Lord Westkirk.”
A bobby led us down a corridor and then opened the door to a stuffy, windowless room that smelled of fear and sweat. Marlowe sat on one side of a heavy, scarred table, and there were two straight-backed chairs on the other side for us. Another constable stood by the door and shut it once we were inside.
Marlowe glared at the bobby. “Can’t you give us a minute alone?”
The uniformed policeman shook his head. Otherwise, he remained motionless.
“Why’d you do it?” Uncle Thomas asked.
“I kept getting dragged into things after the events had already started. God help me, I love her, but I didn’t kill anyone and had no intention of ending anyone’s life. And I didn’t want to kidnap you. None of this was my idea.”
“Did you know she murdered her husband?” I asked.
“What? No.” Marlowe looked stunned. “Why would she kill that harmless old fool?”
“Were you going to run away together?”
“Yes.” He slumped dejectedly in his chair. “We should have boarded the ship this morning.”
“Australia? Queen of the Orient?” Uncle Thomas asked.
Marlowe nodded.
“How much did you really know about Victoria Abbott’s death?” I asked.
Marlowe nodded his head toward the constable.
I started to choke. Rather convincingly, I thought. After I was pounded on the back, my uncle got the constable to get me a glass of water.
The second he was gone, Marlowe said, “The first thing I knew, she was dead. Bianca said Hughes killed her, but she had taken Lady Abbott up to the room he had hired for the night.”
“Was that her role in your club? Taking innocent young women to men like Lord Theo?” I kept my voice down, but my distaste carried.
“She did—assist people. I didn’t keep track of what she did. Guess I didn’t want to know. That particular night when I found the three of them, they were in bed in various stages of undress.”
Good grief. No wonder my grandfather didn’t want me to find out what was going on in that club. And they were all married. To other people. Aristocrats had a lot to answer for.
I was sitting there shaking my head, angered at what Jeb Marlowe had said when the constable came in and handed me a cup of water. I took a sip and thanked him.
“Were you friends with Lord Abbott?” I asked.
“No. I barely knew either of them.”
I raised my eyebrows at him.
He leaned forward. “Really. They didn’t come in often.”
“When did you complete the sale of the club?” Uncle Thomas asked.
“Last night,” Marlowe replied.
“Was that the satchel of money Lady Westkirk was carrying?” I asked.
He scrunched up his face this time when he nodded.
“She wasn’t supposed to run off by herself with the money, was she?” I asked.
He shook his head with just the tiniest of movement.
“Who did you sell the club to?” I asked.
“My former partner. Armstrong,” he murmured so the policeman couldn’t hear.
“Why did you tell us you were leaving the country with Roxanne? You were very convincing,” I told him.
“Bianca had told me to say that if anyone asked. She didn’t want Willard to hear of her plans to leave. I felt badly when I learned Roxanne died. I liked her. I really did.”
“You didn’t feel so badly that you were unwilling to help move her body after Lady Westkirk slit her throat,” I said, glaring at him.
Uncle Thomas flinched before he leaned forward to stare directly into Marlowe’s face. “You fool. Why did you help her? You used to be so much better than this.”
Marlowe lowered his head, unable to meet his old friend’s gaze. “I know I’m a fool. The worst of it is, I still love her.”
James came in then with another detective and we were escorted out. A sergeant took my statement with little interest and few questions before I was shown back into the hallway to await the other members of my family.
According to Jeb Marlowe, Theo Hughes had killed Victoria Abbott. Unknown to the police, Theo had in turn been killed accidentally by his sister-in-law, Lady Dorothy Frethorton. The current Lord Westkirk was certain Lady Westkirk had murdered the late lord. But what about Roxanne? Poor Roxanne had been killed to ensure her silence, left dead in the park with neither clothes nor jewelry.
Jewelry that the Duchess of Blackford said Roxanne wouldn’t have pawned since it didn’t belong to her. Jewelry that was missing.
I looked around me as I remembered the rattle when Lady Westkirk hit Joe with the satchel. “Excuse me, constable. Has anyone examined the satchel Lady Westkirk was carrying?”
“Don’t worry, miss. We’ll look into it.” He started to walk away from me.
“I need to see Inspector Russell now. It’s important.”
“He’s busy now, miss.”
“This will only take a second,” I told him in my most reasonable tone.
“I’m sorry.” He walked off.
As soon as he was far enough away, I jumped up and ran down the scuffed black and white flooring to the room where I knew James was. I threw open the door and said, “Inspector Rus—” before I was grabbed by the constable, quickly aided by the sergeant.
James rose from his chair, as did the other two men in the room. The policemen started to drag me away.
“Wait,” James said in a commanding voice. “What is so important?”
“Have you examined the satchel the money was in yet?”
“We counted the money.”
“No.” I wiggled away from the policemen and tried to catch my breath. “The satchel. The lining. I think there may be stolen jewelry in there.”
James Russell glanced at the sergeant. “Bring the satchel to my office.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I was ordered back to my chair in the hallway while James, the sergeant, and the other detective strode away. My grandfather, who’d been sitting in the hall watching all this, murmured, “What’s going on, Pet?”
“I was at the Duchess of Blackford’s ball when some of her jewelry was stolen. When we tried to talk to Lady Westkirk a short time later, she shoved us out of her way as she rushed from the house. I think she might have jewelry she’s taken from various people, including the duchess and Lady Theo, hidden in the satchel she carried away from the club last night.”
I hoped she did. She was taking that hold-all away to Australia with her. I’d be very embarrassed if she wasn’t taking the jewels, too.
If she’d already sold them, I would look foolish.
Joe and then my father rejoined us after they were questioned, as we all waited in the hall on hard chairs to find out if my guess was correct. Then the three policemen returned and walked into an office with the satchel.
Unable to contain my curiosity, I walked into the office, followed by my relatives. The money had been moved elsewhere, making it easier for James to feel around in the bottom of the empty bag and then cut the fabric with his pocket knife.
With a look at me, he began to lay out fabulous necklaces, bracelets, and rings on his desk.
My grandfather peered over my shoulder and said, “I think you’ll find the
ruby necklace belongs to the Duchess of Wallingford, and the emeralds belong to the Duchess of Blackford.”
“You’re familiar with them?” James asked, his tone dry.
“I have a fondness for beautiful jewelry,” my grandfather replied without an ounce of irony.
“I’ll bet.” James turned to the sergeant. “Notify both Wallingford and Blackford we may have recovered their missing jewelry and to identify it here at Scotland Yard. However, we’ll need it for court proceedings before we can return their property.”
He turned to the other inspector. “We’ll need to tag each item of jewelry found in here and put it back in the strong room. And Sergeant,” he added, “please escort the Gates family out of the compound.”
We went quietly. As we exited Scotland Yard, I heard my father and uncle both give a sigh of relief. Cousin Joe looked back and said, “I wonder where the strong room is.”
“No,” my grandfather said, “some things are not meant to be thought about.”
Joe walked on, his head down.
Uncle Thomas put his arm around Joe’s shoulders. “We’ve all had those thoughts when we were your age. But believe me, private houses and clubs like the one last night are much safer. And just as lucrative.”
“My cousins did all right, then, last night?” I asked and immediately regretted my curiosity. I could feel my cheeks growing hot.
My uncle winked at me. “They did, all thanks to you.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this, but I asked anyway. “What happened after I chased Lady Westkirk out of the club?”
“Jeb Marlowe ran upstairs, leaving his goons to fight us. Garrett and Tommy slipped upstairs and saw Lady Westkirk and you leave by the front door. They waited for Marlowe to come out of the office with another satchel. We were right. Apparently, he didn’t trust the fair Bianca with all of the funds for their new life.” Uncle Thomas had a smile on his face.
“And?” I asked through tight lips. I felt certain I would not approve.
“Joe took care of Jeb Marlowe, while Garrett and Tommy took care of the satchel. Hearing steps coming toward them, Garrett and Tommy went out the office window, leaving Joe with an unconscious club owner to face the footsteps alone. It was Mr. Sumner.”
“Jeb woke up, saw Mr. Sumner’s scarred face, and meekly followed his directions. I told Mr. Sumner I was going to care for my grandfather, and that is exactly what I did.” Joe gave me a cheery grin.
“Then there is no reason, you little scamp, for trying to take on Scotland Yard and their strong room,” my grandfather said in a stern voice. Then he ruffled Joe’s hair.
We walked a short distance before my father said, “Inspector Russell was quite willing to listen to you and let you enter rooms he wouldn’t let us get within a mile of.” His gaze was penetrating. “Emily, what’s going on?”
I felt my cheeks heat. “I’m sure James—”
“James?” My father’s eyes widened as his brows went to his hairline.
Now my cheeks were on fire. “I’ve worked with Inspector Russell before.”
Joe and Uncle Thomas burst out laughing. My grandfather wore his cherubic expression.
“You’ve been working with a Peeler?” The smoke I saw coming out of my father’s ears was not all due to my imagination.
“Not—just—working,” Joe gasped out as he guffawed and clung to his uncle so he’d not fall onto the cobblestones.
“Harry,” my grandfather said, “Detective Inspector James Russell has been courting your daughter. Get over it.”
“Get over it?” My father could probably be heard across London.
“It’s her business and none of ours.” Then in as stern a voice as I’d ever heard, Grandfather said, “Leave her be. And you two,” he pointed at Uncle Thomas and Joe, “stop it now.”
Then Grandpapa winked at me.
* * *
Amazingly, I managed to work uninterrupted by murder the rest of that morning and half the afternoon. It felt wonderful to talk to customers and create hats without the threat of having to chase down clues.
Then Lady Kaldaire paid a visit to my shop, accompanied by the Duchess of Blackford.
After a round of curtsies, followed by Lady Kaldaire greeting my other customers with her usual grace and charm as she made comments on their choice of hats, she said, “I’ve just heard from the Duchess of Wallingford. It seems Scotland Yard has recovered the jewelry stolen from Lady Theo the night she was murdered.”
One of my customers, I don’t know who, gasped. They all leaned forward without looking directly at anyone else.
“I know,” I said in a neutral tone. I wasn’t about to entertain my customers with tales of gunshots in the night, kidnappings, and stolen gems.
“I thought you might.” Lady Kaldaire’s gaze burned a hole in my brain.
I kept working, concentrating on the slant of a businessman’s wife’s hat and not looking directly at Lady Kaldaire. “Do you still want me to come over for tea after I close the shop?” I asked. That was a hint for her to be quiet about the murders here and now. I’d tell her all later, over tea and scones and jam.
There was dead silence for ten seconds before Lady Kaldaire brightened and said, “Yes. You’re busy. We’ll talk at tea time.” She then gave us all a farewell that made me think of royalty leaving.
“I’ll see you later,” the duchess said to Lady Kaldaire with a smile. “I’d like to order a hat. May I sit over here?” she asked me.
“Yes, Your Grace. I’d be honored.” Not certain what the situation called for, I curtsied again.
Jane and all three of our other customers stared at me and then at the duchess.
“Oh, I’ll wait with you. Who knows what ideas I may get for my own hats,” Lady Kaldaire said and sat next to the Duchess of Blackford as if they were the closest of friends. The duchess kept a neutral expression but her eyes gleamed with amusement.
I knew I needed to get my business back on track, especially with statements from Lady Kaldaire that left people wondering. “Mrs. Kerrick,” I asked Jane’s customer, “how do you like the fit of your hat?”
* * *
The shop was closed for the evening and Jane had gone home when there came a knock on the door. I opened it to find James on the doorstep, his bowler hat in his hands. “May I come in?” he asked as if we were strangers.
I stepped back and held the door open for him. He entered and shut the door behind his back.
“Am I forgiven?” he asked.
“Forgiven for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.” Unless he’d arrested someone in my family and I didn’t know about it yet.
“Claiming your successes as my own. Or at least not setting the record straight. The thought in Scotland Yard is that I was called to a ruckus at a private club and recovered stolen jewels and a killer who was about to escape justice. No one is giving you or Mr. Sumner any credit. ‘Just a little assistance from private citizens,’ they’re saying.”
“That’s wonderful. You can use the good opinion of your colleagues. I don’t care, and my father’s family doesn’t want any notoriety.” I ducked my head to hide my blush. Notoriety was the kiss of death for a conman.
I hurriedly continued. “Mr. Sumner is an employee of the Duke of Blackford, and when the duke heard I was going over to the Marlowe Club because I suspected there might be stolen jewels there as well as my kidnapped uncle, the duke sent Mr. Sumner over to look out for the duke’s interests.” Well, that wasn’t too far from the truth.
“A handy man to have on your side,” James said in a neutral tone. I knew he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t press for the truth.
I nodded. “How are you going to prove Lady Westkirk killed Roxanne, I mean Lady Theo?”
“I’m not. The only death we can pin on her is that of her husband.” When I let loose a sigh, James put his hands on my shoulders. “She can only hang once.”
“But she told me—”
“The barristers w
ould call it hearsay. They could say she was joking.”
I decided I didn’t like barristers. “Are you certain you can get a conviction of Lady Westkirk? She’s very elegant and personable. She’s young and exotic. She’ll charm the judge and the jury.” I stared into his eyes and he gave me a confident smile.
“Emily, we have a lot of evidence, as well as witnesses to her dislike of her husband, her craving wealth, and her actions last night. Juries don’t like women who are too greedy and disdainful of their husbands. It makes them nervous. Makes them worry about their own wives.”
“Then Lady Theo’s killer will be punished, even if it’s not for her murder.” I slipped my arms around his neck. “Thank you.”
“What about Lord Theo’s killer?” James asked me. “You kept telling me that he was murdered, too, and not dead from natural causes as the death certificate says.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“I was wrong.” Wrong about Lord Theo Hughes, timid Lady Dorothy, and all of the Wallingfords. I couldn’t let him suspect what I had guessed, that a woman had accidentally killed Lord Theo while protecting her baby. “His death was due to injuries, but they were all caused by a simple accident. The doctor was right.”
“Good. I don’t want to dig around a duke’s home again, looking for evidence. Especially for evidence you now tell me isn’t there.” He pulled me in tightly and whispered into my ear. “I’m glad this case is over and we can get back to courting without Lady Kaldaire interrupting.”
I hoped she wouldn’t interrupt again. Somehow, I knew I couldn’t be so lucky.
He kissed me then. We didn’t talk for a long while, but when he finally pulled away, curiosity made me ask, “Can you tell me what Jeb Marlowe and Lady Westkirk said when you questioned them?”
“Marlowe wouldn’t be quiet. He told us about Lady Victoria Abbott dying in bed with…” he stopped and reddened.
I decided not to tell him what I knew about that episode.
“Never mind,” he hurried on. “She was dead when he was called by one of the maids, with only Lord Hughes and Lady Westkirk in the room. Marlowe didn’t want to call us, it’d be bad for business, so Lady Westkirk said she’d take care of everything and to send Lord Armstrong upstairs.