A Gilded Grave

by Shelley Freydont

  Her father frowned, but Deanna understood. Her mother needed Adelaide to be alert and vivacious. She hadn’t missed the attention Charles had paid to Lady Madeline. Deanna doubted if any other woman in the room had, either.

  “So, you will have Elspeth pack your clothes for a few days, Deanna.”

  “Me? Must I go?” That would mean Elspeth would also have to accompany them, and she needed to be with Orrin now.

  “Really, Deanna, use your head. You can’t stay alone in the house.”

  Deanna shot a look at her father.

  “Really, my dear?” Mr. Randolph said. “You don’t want the girl to miss all the festivities. You know Newport. They don’t even mourn their own for longer than it takes to leave a black-edged visiting card. And the death of a servant? I’m sorry to say, it won’t slow them down at all. That poor girl—Daisy was her name?—will be replaced and forgotten by sunset. And so will Deanna, if she leaves now.”

  He picked up his paper and snapped it back into shape. “I’m sure Gwen Ballard would love to have Deanna stay for a few days.”

  “Gwen Ballard? I blame her for this nonsense with her grandson. The woman is downright embarrassing. She was dancing with Bernie Ainsworth like some music-hall hoyden.”

  His father raised his paper. This time it completely covered his face.

  Deanna wondered if it was to hide a smile or a frown. Gwen Ballard was one of his favorites. George Randolph had a modern streak in him; Deanna didn’t know how he put up with her mother’s anxieties and concerns about society.

  “Whatever you wish,” he said from behind the newspaper.

  Deanna fought her rising exasperation. This was no time for him to retreat into the morning news. She cleared her throat. Mention Lord David. She won’t be able to resist.

  As if he’d received Deanna’s silent message, her father lowered his paper several inches. “But unfortunate timing, my dear. I’m sure some young lady will snatch up Lord David while she’s gone.”

  Deanna smiled inwardly. It was enough to make her believe in telepathy.

  Mrs. Randolph templed her fingers and scrutinized Deanna for a long time. Before she could pronounce sentence, the door opened and the butler announced the arrival of Cassie Woodruff, who hardly waited for him to finish before she flounced into the breakfast room.

  Except for the slight puffiness under her eyes, no one would ever guess she’d danced to all hours and seen a dead person the night before, let alone one closely attached to her household.

  “Good morning. I’m sorry to interrupt.” She curtseyed to Mr. Randolph and then to his wife. “But I couldn’t wait. Mama thought it would be ghoulish to organize badminton and luncheon on the lawn in view of the . . . tragedy. So we’re all going to the Casino for tennis, and tomorrow there’s to be dinner al fresco at Bailey’s Beach.

  “I came to invite Deanna in person. Lord David asked particularly if you would be there.”

  Deanna sighed and looked sad. “I’m afraid I have to go to Boston with Mama and Adelaide.” She sighed again for good measure.

  “Boston?” asked Cassie.

  “Lord David?” Mrs. Randolph said.

  “Oh, please, Mrs. Randolph? Deanna can’t miss all the fun. She can stay with us until you get back. Couldn’t you, Dee? Mama would love to have her.”

  Deanna looked expectantly at her mother. She could see the turmoil in her mind. It was like telepathy. She could practically read her mother’s thoughts. Deanna lost out on Joseph Ballard; this might be her chance to snag an even better prospect.

  “I suppose a few days won’t hurt. George?”

  “Whatever you think, dear,” he said from behind his paper.

  “I’ll have to ask your mama.”

  “Oh, it will be fine.”

  Deanna gave Cassie a warning look.

  “She’s at home this morning if you’d like to telephone her. Deanna and I will wait upstairs in her room.”

  Deanna saw her mother stiffen ever so slightly. She was one of the sticklers who thought the telephone was to be used only for summoning servants, not conversing with others in one’s society.

  “Would that be all right, Mama?” Deanna said quickly. “You could write Mrs. Woodruff a note, and we could take it over or have one of the footmen deliver it.”

  Jeannette Randolph gave a minute nod. “I’ll discuss it with your father. You may be excused.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Deanna stood, paused to kiss her father’s cheek, and walked sedately out of the room. As soon as they were in the foyer, Deanna pulled Cassie to the back of the stairs. “What happened after I left last night?”

  “The police were there for the longest time. They sent everyone back to the house, but we watched from the terrace while an ambulance came and took Daisy away.”

  “They didn’t lay her out in your house?”

  “Ew, no. Maybe they took her to where her family lives. Only, Vlady and Herbert overheard two of the policeman say they were going to perform an au—au—”

  “Autopsy?” Deanna asked.

  “Yes. Isn’t that where they cut you up and see what’s inside? I’d never let them do that to me.”

  “You wouldn’t be alive to stop them,” Deanna quipped, but she was thinking about the reasons for doing that operation. Because they weren’t sure how she died. “How awful for her family to have her body desecrated on top of it all.”

  “They asked Vlady and Herbert all sorts of questions. I’ve never been that close to a policeman before, and it would have been great fun, except that Daisy was dead.”

  “The sergeant, Will Hennessey, went to Yale with Bob and Joe.”

  “He did? Why on earth would he become a policeman, then?”

  “He was interested in forensics,” Deanna said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Using science to capture criminals. And putting clues together—things ordinary people wouldn’t notice—that will lead them to the arrest. I’m not exactly sure how it works. The boys would always clam up every time I asked any questions.” Deanna rolled her eyes. “When I’m mistress of a house, I’ll let people talk about anything they want.”

  Cassie nodded energetically. “Oh, famous. We’ll do anything we please. It will be such a lark. I’ll come and visit you every day.”

  Deanna smiled. She sometimes wished she could be like Cassie, looking forward to being a society lady, but the very idea was so tedious. But that was in the future. There were other things that needed attention now. “Cassie, what did they ask Vlady?”

  “How would I know? They took him away to the library, and I was suddenly so frightened that they would arrest him.”

  “Why on earth?”

  “Because he found the body.”

  Deanna sighed. “We all found the body.”

  “Oh, right. Anyway, they were in there for ever so long, and when Vlady finally came out and Herbert went in, Vlady was all pale and everything. And he said he didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Did he tell you what he did with the envelope?”

  “What envelope?”

  “Don’t be dense. The one he found in Daisy’s hand.”

  “Oh.” Cassie drew out the word. “He didn’t say. Is it important?”

  “Quite possibly. I wonder if he gave it to Will.”

  Cassie’s eye widened until they looked like they might pop. “Do you think it was a clue?”

  Deanna thought it might be. And if it was, she was afraid it would lead the police straight to the Fifth Ward and Orrin Payne.

  “Can we go upstairs now, or do you want your mama to catch us hiding behind the stairs?”

  They scurried out of their hiding place and were going sedately up the stairs when the front door bell rang. Deanna looked at Cassie and knew she was thinking the same thing. It was too early for a soci
al call.

  They hesitated, heard Dickerson say, “Good morning, sir.”

  “It’s Will Hennessey,” Deanna whispered, recognizing the visitor’s voice. “Do you think he’s here to talk to me?”

  Cassie nodded and, without another word, bolted up the stairs.

  Chapter

  5

  Deanna turned and descended the stairs to face Will across the foyer.

  “Did you come to talk with me?”

  Will nodded. “But not without your father present. Dickerson has gone to tell him I’m here.”

  He didn’t move any closer and neither did Deanna. She didn’t know whether to smile or be serious. Will was a large-boned man, handsome in a rugged way, like one of the frontiersmen portrayed in dime novels. Today he was dressed in a regular morning suit, not a uniform. Normally, she would be glad to see him, but she wasn’t sure how to greet him this morning. There wasn’t a rule in the etiquette books, as far as she knew, on how to deal with a man of the law.

  She could hear her mother’s voice as her parents moved from the breakfast room to the library, where they would receive Will.

  Deanna swallowed. She’d really hoped her mother wouldn’t have to be present. She wouldn’t approve of anything that Deanna would have to say. She’d be rude to Will, outraged that the authorities would dare to besiege her home, and let everyone know about it.

  Will looked just as uncomfortable as Deanna, only today, as policeman and witness, they couldn’t laugh together and break the tension. She’d never been a witness before—not that she had actually witnessed anything last night—and she didn’t know how to act.

  Dickerson returned and showed Will into the library, then stood just outside the door.

  As Deanna watched him, he held a finger to his lips. When he at last moved away from the door, he said, “I took the liberty of not saying that you were waiting here.”

  “Thank you, Dickerson.”

  “Chin up, Miss Deanna. They’re ready for you now.”

  She steeled herself and followed him to the library door. Dickerson gave her a second to compose herself, then opened the door. She stepped inside. “You sent for me, Papa?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  He and Will were both standing. Her mother was seated. The message clear: Mrs. Randolph wasn’t leaving.

  Her father turned his attention to Deanna. “You remember Sergeant Hennessey?”

  “Of course. How do you do?” She risked a glance at Will. His eyes were kind, sympathetic, and a little amused.

  “Have a seat, Deanna.”

  “Yes, Papa.” Chin up, she told herself. She crossed the room to sit down; her skirt caught the leg of a chair and she almost stumbled. Her cheeks flushed red. Two signs of guilt. When confronted, the villains in the novels always gave themselves away by their nerves.

  She managed to get to the chair near Will—Sergeant Hennessey—and sat down.

  The gentlemen sat.

  “The sergeant has a few questions to ask you about last night.”

  Deanna glanced at her mother. She hadn’t told her that she had been outside on the lawn or even on the terrace. Deanna looked at her father.

  “The sergeant has already informed us that you were among those who discovered the body of that poor girl,” he said.

  Deanna cringed. Now her mother would never let her stay with Cassie. At least her papa hadn’t been the one who’d told on her.

  Will Hennessey took a black notebook and a pencil stub from his pocket and looked at Deanna attentively. His mouth twitched, his apology for letting the cat out of the bag. Well, it couldn’t be helped. She straightened in her seat.

  “That’s correct. Several of us were strolling on the path since the ballroom was unbearably close.” She risked a small smile at Will, but her eyes were trying to telegraph to him that she didn’t want to talk in front of her parents. Which was useless; it was too late to go back now. Besides, they would never let her talk to him alone.

  The door opened. Dickerson stepped in, and Cassie swept past him. Now they’d really be in trouble.

  “Sorry to interrupt. But, Mrs. Randolph, Adelaide seems awfully sick and I couldn’t find her maid.”

  Jeannette Randolph’s mouth tightened, clearly torn between her duties. “I’ll see to her.” She rose and the gentlemen rose with her. After casting a glance first at her husband, then at the sergeant, she left the room. Cassie lingered long enough to wink at Deanna before she followed Deanna’s mother out.

  And Deanna almost laughed out loud.

  The room seemed to exhale as the door closed.

  Deanna turned to Will, who glanced at the door. “Can you tell me who you were with and what happened when you got to the walk?”

  “Yes. Cassie—Cassandra Woodruff—Vladimir Howe, Herbert Stanhope, and several others who were behind us. But there were people all over. I don’t see how—”

  “Yes, thank you. Please continue with your movements.”

  “We reached the cliff walk and stopped to admire the sea. Like a lot of people were doing.” She left out the part about the champagne. But from the way Will was looking at her, she thought he might have an idea of what they’d really been doing, and she blushed hotly.

  “Then Vlady looked down and said someone was out on the rocks. At first we thought we had”—she looked at her father; he gave her an encouraging nod, then looked down at his ink blotter—“perhaps discovered a pair of lovers, or—but then we looked more closely and— Well, then Vlady—Mr. Howe—said someone was hurt, and he started to climb down the rocks. Then Herbert followed him. Cassie and I waited on the walk.”

  Will’s eyebrows rose.

  She looked away; she wasn’t about to admit that she had tried to follow them and would have, had Lord David not stopped her.

  “But even from there we could see who it was.”

  “From that far above her?”

  “Well, it isn’t that far, is it? Not like some places on the cliffs. She was just a few feet below us. Sort of at the edge of the rocks before there’s a drop-off into the ocean.”

  “So you saw her clearly?”

  “Yes. I told you—”

  “Deanna,” her father warned.

  “Sorry. It was overcast, but the clouds were moving quite rapidly. While we were looking, the moon broke through and we saw that it was Daisy. We could see her face quite plainly in the moonlight. Her body was parallel to the walk, but her head—her head wasn’t.” Deanna took a breath, blew it out. “Her head had fallen sideways over the edge of the rock. She was staring straight up to the sky.” Suddenly the image was very clear in her mind. She swallowed.

  “You don’t have to continue,” her father said softly.

  She shook her head. “It’s all right, Papa. I want to help.”

  “Please, go ahead.” Will’s voice was calm, reassuring.

  “She was lying almost straight, as if she were sleeping. I remember thinking her feet were so small.” Embarrassingly, she teared up. She broke from Will’s gaze. “Papa, is it all right if I give Elspeth the afternoon off?”

  “Of course, my dear.”

  Realizing she might be implicating Orrin in the investigation, Deanna added, “My maid Elspeth and Daisy were friends. She’s been upset.”

  Will nodded, turned the page of his notebook. “Did you see anything else?”

  Deanna thought about it. Re-created the scene in her mind as she did when working on a still life after the fruit had been taken away. Her art teacher always said she had a good eye. Now she wished she didn’t.

  “Daisy was lying on her back. If she had jumped, wouldn’t she have landed face-first?” Deanna wondered if that made any difference. Could Will’s forensics determine something about the fall from the way she landed?

  Deanna was dying to ask, but didn’t. “She must
have slipped and fallen, except—”

  Will cleared his throat, and Deanna blinked furiously. She knew not to cry in public, and she really wasn’t much given to crying. Until today, at least.

  “Except what?”

  “Except it wasn’t the kind of place you fall from, and if she had somehow missed her way in the dark, she would have slid down and not landed that far from the path. Even if someone had pushed her . . .” She stopped.

  “Deanna? Miss Randolph?”

  She started. “Yes?”

  “Did you think of something?”

  “I . . . no.” She darted a look toward her father. She didn’t want to have to say more.

  “Sergeant,” her father warned.

  “Just a few more questions, sir.” Will continued without waiting for his okay. “What happened next?”

  “Cassie fainted.”

  Her father made a noise halfway between a cough and a laugh.

  “Mrs. Stanhope and Lady Madeline took her over to a bench to recover.”

  “And who is Lady Madeline?”

  “Lord David’s sister.”

  “If I may,” her father interjected. “Lord David Manchester owns a Barbadian sugar plantation that R and W is contracting with. My partner, Francis Woodruff, visited him in Barbados and invited him to inspect our facilities and meet with us to assure R and W that he could supply us with enough raw product to run our processing plants.”

  “I see,” Will wrote quickly. “And are these facilities here in Newport?”

  Everyone knew they weren’t.

  “No, in Pennsylvania and Brooklyn. Lord David was to accompany Francis Woodruff to our New York offices today, once their introduction to Newport society was made, and then continue on to visit the refineries. Unfortunately, in light of what happened last night, and the fact that Francis is not well, their tour has been pushed back. I believe Charles Woodruff is planning to bring Manchester to the city in a couple of days.”

  “While they’re in Newport, the Manchesters are staying with the Woodruffs?”

  “As far as I know. I plan to ask Joseph Ballard to give them a tour of his workshop and explain his plans for modernization.” He shot Deanna an arch look. “Wouldn’t do to leave the man cooling his heels in Newport for too long.”