Butterfly Palace

by Coble, Colleen

  Drew shrugged. “I was just curious. We have a deal. I wouldn’t back out on it. Butterfly collectors tend to be friends, and I thought I might know her.”

  Fred looked cagey. “A man has to make a living, you know. Come back tomorrow, and I’ll have that butterfly for you. I’ll tell you her name then.”

  “How much money should I bring?” Drew asked. The price Fred named made him gulp, but he nodded. “We’ll be here.”

  “Make it around three. That should give me enough time.” He escorted them to the door.

  When they stepped out into the yard, Drew could see Fred mentally calculating how he was going to spend the money.

  Drew strode back to the automobile with Nathan. “How’d you know about this fellow?”

  “Mr. Karr used him quite often. He sent me to pick up his specimens a few times. I think he’s honest.” Nathan climbed into the auto.

  Drew started the car with the hand crank, then bounded up to the seat. “Why haven’t the police been here? It was clear Fred didn’t know a Blue Morpho was missing, or he might have been more suspicious.”

  Nathan looked grim. “Because the police think the murderer is dead. I’m sure they still think Jane is guilty, even if they did release her.”

  Drew stared back at the house. “A woman was selling it. That was a surprise. Fred has to go see her or meet her somewhere.”

  “We shouldn’t leave.”

  Drew steered the vehicle to the side of the road. “You take the automobile on home, and I’ll keep watch from across the street.”

  “I’ll come back and spell you in a couple of hours.”

  “Okay.” Drew climbed down and trotted back the way he’d come. Then he took up surveillance in a park area. He tugged his hat low on his head and took off his jacket to change his appearance a bit.

  The sun beat hot on his hat, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead, so he moved to the shade of a live oak tree. His diligence was rewarded about an hour later when the man exited the house and went to his bicycle. Drew hadn’t thought about how he was going to follow if the man left, but he got lucky because Fred came his way and rode his bicycle down another side street to a general store.

  The sign on the window announced the store contained a telephone that could be rented. Drew followed from a distance until the man went inside. Through the big window out front, Drew watched him use the telephone. Fred came back out with a smile of satisfaction.

  Now to watch and see who showed up with a Blue Morpho.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Election Day hadn’t waited for Lily to be done grieving her friend. She pulled on her gray dress and went to the kitchen. Either they’d save Mr. Marshall, or the day would end in tragedy.

  “Mr. Hawkes is in the parlor asking to speak with you,” Mrs. O’Reilly said. “Be quick about it. Miss Belle will be ringing for her breakfast. Emily will care for little Hannah today.”

  Lily hurried to see what would have brought Drew out so early. She found him pacing by the fireplace. “What’s wrong?”

  He turned, and his expression cleared when he saw her. “A woman tried to sell the butterfly to the dealer Nathan took me to see. We think she’ll be bringing it to him this morning. Nathan and I are taking turns staking out the house to discover her identity.”

  She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “We only have a few hours. You saw Mr. Marshall’s reaction. He won’t avoid the party tonight, so we have to catch these people.”

  He grasped her shoulders. “I know, honey. We’ll do the best we can.”

  “What about Ian and his team? They have to see Mr. Marshall can’t be sacrificed.”

  Drew shook his head. “No help there. His main goal is to protect the president. He doesn’t know Everett.”

  She put her head on his chest, taking comfort from his warmth and strength. She listened to his heartbeat: strong and steady like the man himself. If only her mama were still alive. She had been convinced Drew would come back someday. She would have been so happy to know she was right.

  The future was still murky though. Standing here in the shelter of his arms, it didn’t matter. They’d figure it out.

  She pulled away and stared into his face. The firm lips, the fire in his brown eyes, the Roman nose all spoke of strength.

  He smiled. “What are you thinking?”

  “How strong you are. How blessed I am. I know you will save Mr. Marshall.”

  He sobered at once. “I haven’t done such a great job, Lily. Like I said the other night, my confidence is shaken. Pray harder than you’ve ever prayed today.”

  “I will. And what about this woman? Do you know anything about her?”

  He shook his head. “Only that she has a Blue Morpho. They’re quite rare, so we hope it’s the missing one.”

  “Even if it is, how will that lead you to the rest of the people who want Mr. Marshall dead?”

  “It has to all be connected—Mrs. Karr’s death, the missing butterfly, the plot to kill Mr. Marshall.”

  “But what if the butterfly has nothing to do with the plot?” She didn’t want to shake his confidence, but she didn’t see how they fit together.

  “I think the butterfly was stolen to shake up Mr. Marshall. Have you noticed how distracted he’s been since it went missing?”

  She nodded. “He can barely function. Last night he put salt in his coffee.”

  “He’s obsessed with butterflies. Even more than with politics. I don’t understand it, but someone else knows how this would affect him. I suspect the Karrs. I found out Mr. Karr ran for senator in the primaries. He has reason to dislike Mr. Marshall.”

  “Do you think he wants to be appointed senator in his place? I thought Mr. Vesters believed he would be the appointee.”

  “We don’t know if Vesters even told me the truth about why he plans to kill Everett. I caught him off guard when I found the evidence. He could have covered up the real plan with a lie.”

  She wasn’t used to so much subterfuge and lies. “I suppose you’re right.” Her head hurt just thinking about it.

  He hugged her again. “Have faith, Lily. And pray.”

  “I have been, and I will. Is there anything I can do?”

  “I wish there was a way to get into the Karr house. Do you know anyone who works there?”

  She shook her head. “Not a soul. I could ask Emily and Mrs. O’Reilly. They’ve lived here longer than I have. Maybe they’ve worked with someone there.”

  “See what you can find out.”

  “What should they look for if we find someone?”

  “A gun, any correspondence that shows what they’re up to. The butterfly.”

  “It just feels like the butterfly must play a bigger role than we know.”

  He stared at her. “Lily, you’re brilliant! I bet it’s a symbol for something. Can you get away this morning and go to the library? Maybe you can uncover some meaning behind it. I’m going to be watching to see who shows up with the insect this morning. Send Nathan for me if you find anything.”

  “Perhaps Belle would help me look. Maybe we can even ask Mr. Marshall. He might know what the butterfly symbolizes.”

  Drew smiled. “He probably does. He’d be better than an encyclopedia. Start by asking him before he goes to campaign headquarters.”

  “Wait a minute. I’ve heard of a political group called Novo. It uses the butterfly for its symbol. Nathan mentioned it, remember? And Emily told me about it too. Maybe that group is part of this. Could some of his own supporters be behind this?”

  “It’s possible. I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Lily’s gut clenched at the thought of Everett leaving the house. “He doesn’t seem to take the threat seriously.”

  “I’ll be with him every second tonight, even if we think we’ve found all those involved.”

  Would it be enough? Lily kissed Drew good-bye and went to start Belle’s breakfast. She found Mrs. O’Reilly and Emily huddled together talking at the worktable. The
y both wore somber expressions.

  Lily frowned as she went to the stove to start Belle’s eggs. “Is something wrong?”

  “We saw this morning’s newspaper,” Mrs. O’Reilly said. “You should try to keep it from Miss Belle.”

  An egg still in her hand, Lily went to the table. “What is it?”

  Mrs. O’Reilly held the paper out, headline up.

  “Oh my word.” The egg fell from Lily’s hand and cracked on the floor.

  There would be no hiding this from Belle.

  Belle arranged her skirts around her at the round table in the breakfast room by the bay window and rang to let Lily know she was ready for her coddled eggs and toast. She felt unusually cheerful this morning, and it was probably because little Hannah chewed happily on a cloth teether on a blanket by her feet. Was this what purpose felt like?

  What must it be like to have a houseful of children? With the right man, of course. Being around the baby had shown her how important the father of her children was to her future. Stuart would not have made a good father, so it was a lucky escape for her.

  But still a course she had to see through to the end. When he was behind bars and her uncle was safe, she’d be able to breathe again and look for a good man.

  A spotless white apron covered Lily’s modest gray dress when she entered the room. She carried a silver tray of breakfast food. She placed the items on Belle’s plate. When Belle picked up her fork, Lily took the newspaper from the table and started out of the room.

  “I haven’t read that yet, Lily. Leave it.”

  Lily made a slow turn. “Yes, miss.” She placed it with obvious reluctance back onto the table.

  “Whatever is wrong with you?” Belle reached for the newspaper and unfolded it. The headline blared out at her.

  “I WAS STUART VESTERS’S MISTRESS,” SAID ACCUSED MURDERESS, NOW DEAD

  This reporter has discovered a secret child stashed away in the Marshall household. Mr. Marshall is running for the senate in today’s election. According to Jane White, a white woman of twenty-three years accused of murdering her former employer, Mrs. Sarah Karr, she was the mistress of businessman Stuart Vesters. The arrangement was against Miss White’s wishes, and the deed was accomplished with the aid of Mrs. Karr. The accused had contemplated revenge for some time. The fact the child is being cared for by Mr. Vesters’s fiancée gives credence to the accusation.

  The police are still investigating the murder of Mrs. Karr. Her body was found in the basement under a display of Mr. Marshall’s prized butterflies. Her throat had been slashed with a knife. Miss White pointed out the body herself, a case of the attacker returning to the scene of the crime, perhaps. The police say they released Miss White to see if she would lead them to more evidence. That hope was dashed when the monster stalking the city killed her.

  If you have any evidence about this crime, contact the police.

  Belle tossed the newspaper to the floor. “You would have let me go about my day without knowing such terrible things were being said? How dare they publish such rubbish. I’ll be the laughingstock of the entire city.” Her throat tightened and her eyes burned, but she would not cry. “What will my friends say? If they even speak to me at all.” She covered her face with her hands. “How could Jane do this to me?”

  “Jane didn’t do anything,” Lily protested. “Lay the guilt at Stuart’s feet where it belongs. Jane was the victim here. And she’s dead.”

  “But she didn’t have to speak of it!”

  Lily took a step closer. “What would you have her do, Miss Belle? Keep silent about what a terrible woman this Karr creature was? We must fight to clear Jane’s name for Hannah’s sake.”

  Belle dropped her hands and stared at her maid. “You knew of this. When you said you knew Stuart was an evil man, this is the incident you spoke of.”

  “Yes. But the story wasn’t mine to tell.” Her eyes were wet. “There’s something else we need to talk about. I spoke with Drew this morning. He suspects the stolen butterfly symbolizes something. Could you ask your uncle if he knows any special meaning for the butterfly?”

  “That seems a little preposterous, but I’ll ask him.”

  The doorbell rang. Moments later Stuart’s voice boomed out in the hall. “Where is Miss Belle? I must speak with her.”

  “Don’t break the engagement,” Lily whispered. “Smile and tell him you believe him—that you’ll stand by him.”

  Belle nodded and pasted a compassionate expression on her face before rising to face him. A big man with a big voice and an overbearing personality, Stuart’s presence always filled a room. It was something she was glad she wouldn’t have to live with.

  He looked at the newspaper on the table, then back to Belle. “It’s all a lie.”

  “I’m sure it is,” she said, her voice soothing.

  Hannah cooed on the floor and smiled up at him. He scowled at the infant. “If you hadn’t taken in that brat, I’d be in a better position to counteract this story.”

  “I had no idea there would be a story to counteract. We can’t do anything about that now. I can hardly turn her out into the streets now that she’s an orphan. That would warrant another ugly front-page article.”

  He winced, then crossed the room to take her hands. “You do believe me, don’t you, Belle? I would never do something so evil. I don’t know why the chit was trying to discredit me, but I have friends in town. I can’t believe the paper printed that trash—especially now that she’s dead and can’t retract it.”

  “Of course I believe you.” She forced herself to brush his whiskers with a kiss. “We’ll get through this, Stuart.”

  “Of all things to happen on Election Day. I hope this doesn’t affect your uncle’s election.”

  She stepped away from him when he started to grab her. “Why would it? He did nothing. He’s the victim here. If anything, he’ll win by an even bigger landslide.”

  His hands dropped to his sides. “Voters can be fickle. A hint of scandal, and they’re gone.”

  “This doesn’t implicate Uncle Everett at all. Are you voting today?”

  “I already did. The turnout seemed strong already.”

  “We’ll know tonight if he’s won.”

  He turned toward the door. “I hope you’re right. I’ll pick you up to attend the post-election party when we’ll celebrate his win.” He was looking more cheerful by the minute. “The future is looking bright for all of us. This will pass. The election will push this news to the back page.”

  “Of course it will.” She envisioned the front-page news when Stuart’s assassination plot was revealed. Then they’d have proof of the kind of man Stuart was.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Belle had always found her uncle’s study intimidating, even as a child. The cavernous room had a domed ceiling, and the butterflies hanging in display glass seemed to be looking at her. Once Hannah was down for her nap, she steeled herself and went to find her uncle. She inhaled and knocked on the door.

  “Come in.” Her uncle’s voice was muffled.

  He looked up over the glasses perched on his nose. His speech papers were spread out on the enormous desk. “Ah, it’s you, Belle.”

  She tried not to see the red butterfly staring at her from the wall to her left. “You look very handsome this morning, uncle.” At least the aroma of her uncle’s pipe tobacco was comforting.

  His intent expression cleared. “You’ll do me proud today, niece. It’s a big day for the Marshall household.” His gaze examined her. “I assume you read this morning’s paper?”

  “Yes, I did. It’s quite ugly.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Nothing until the election is over and we see the extent of Stuart’s involvement.”

  His eyes smiled with approval. “You’re a good girl, Belle. Wish me luck. Even as we speak, the state is turning out to cast its vote for the next senator. I plan to be giving my acceptance speech in about twelve hours.”

  His good hum
or made her smile until she remembered how serious the day truly was. “Aren’t you even a little apprehensive about tonight’s possible assassination attempt?”

  “Not at all. You youngsters worry too much.” A frown gathered between his brows, and he glanced at the butterfly display on his desk. “I’d be more comfortable if I could find my butterfly though.”

  “That’s what I wanted to ask you about. What’s so special about this Blue Morpho butterfly? Why would anyone steal it?”

  He laid down his pen. “It’s rare, so it’s very valuable, of course. Camille was quite upset with me when she found out how much I paid for it, but I bought her a diamond necklace to soothe her.”

  Her aunt was easily placated by jewelry. “Beyond the rarity and monetary value. You seem more upset about losing this specimen than I would have expected. After all, you can always buy another. We’re not paupers.”

  He stepped to his floor-to-ceiling bookshelf and selected a book. After opening it, he flipped through the pages, then handed it to her. “It has mystical powers. It’s the only known specimen with that red key shape on one wing. It’s quite small. You have to look at the picture with a magnifying glass to see it. It’s evident on the real specimen though. I made sure I had the real one.”

  “Oh, Uncle Everett, surely you don’t believe in magic.” She knew her levity had offended him when he started to take the book back. “No, no, let me read it. I’m sorry I mocked you. You always seem so cut and dried, rooted in the present.”

  “It’s an article about this particular Blue Morpho. To be succinct, possession of this butterfly has put kings in power and has healed those dying. It’s even been reported to have brought back a king’s son from the dead.” He stabbed a stubby finger at the pertinent paragraph.

  She skimmed the article, and it was very convincing with names and dates detailed. “It seems to be about change. Possessing it brings about the change you wish.” She took the magnifying glass he handed her and studied the watercolor drawing. “I see the red key.”