A Gilded Grave

by Shelley Freydont

  Cassie laughed. “I bet Mrs. Alva is mad as hops. Outdone by the other Mrs. Vanderbilt.” She turned to Madeline. “The two wives of the Vanderbilt men. They’re always trying to trump each other.”

  “How droll,” Madeline said.

  Deanna wouldn’t call the fight between the two most powerful women in society droll. They could be vicious—more like tigresses, or Amazons.

  “And this ‘cottage’ as you call it, The Breakers? It sounds magnificent.”

  “Oh, everyone here has big houses. It’s what we do,” Cassie said. “Don’t you have big houses in Barbados?”

  “We do, but nothing as splendorous as yours and these others. I’d love to see inside of the others.”

  “You will. The season has just started. We’ll be dancing, dining, and having all sorts of fun until September.”

  Deanna’s mind began to wander. How could they be talking about bathrooms and dances when a girl had been murdered only the night before? Her father was right. They’d already forgotten about Daisy.

  But Deanna hadn’t.

  She wondered what Will was doing, if he was still questioning guests. Had he questioned Orrin? Madeline had been so quick to assume it had been about Daisy and Orrin’s intimate affairs. Deanna didn’t know what to think or even hope for. But if not Orrin, then who? A stranger? Had a madman lured her to the cliffs?

  She looked out to the courts, where Vlady had just aced a serve.

  One of her own set? When would any of them have had time during the ball? Of course, the men had been coming and going all night—ballroom, billiard room, terrace, gentleman’s cloakroom. Sometimes it seemed like men spent more time outside of the ballroom than they did in.

  And Joe had left early. She supposed anyone could have slipped out, but why?

  The match ended with Vlady and Lord David trouncing the other two. They all shook hands and strolled off the court while four others took their places.

  Deanna knew the men would stop to freshen up and perhaps have a drink or two or three at the bar before joining the ladies for tea.

  The afternoon dragged on. Deanna hadn’t gotten to play even one game. And now she had to listen to Ivy Bennett retell the anecdote of how her cousin had been responsible for building the Casino after being kicked out of the “stuffy old Reading Room” when he’d dared a friend to ride his horse onto the porch.

  Madeline seemed to be enjoying the story, but the rest of them had heard it a million times. Mr. Bennett had behaved badly, but Deanna couldn’t help being a little in awe of someone who could thumb his nose at propriety and go his own way.

  When the gentlemen returned, they were accompanied by Cokey Featheringham and his cousin, Nathaniel. Ivy Bennett had managed to corral the Manchesters a few tables away, so Cokey and Herbert Stanhope joined Deanna and Olivia.

  “You didn’t ask me to dance last evening, Cokey. You bad boy.”

  “Oh, Olivia, I would’ve, but me and Nathaniel didn’t stay long.” He lowered his voice. “It was stifling, and we decided to meet up with some fellows I know at the country club.”

  “Well, you owe me a waltz,” Olivia said coyly.

  “Sure thing.”

  Their banter became tedious, and Deanna found herself doodling with her finger on the tablecloth. And was a little embarrassed to realize she’d been sketching the lines of a certain tennis player who was better than the rest. She looked up to see if he was still seated with Ivy.

  He looked up at the same time and winked at her.

  Deanna quickly looked around to see if anyone noticed, but they were all intent on their own conversations; Lord David broke into a charming grin, and her skin tingled in reaction.

  As soon as luncheon was over, the ladies retired to the lounge to freshen up while the gentlemen sat over their port.

  It was when Deanna was returning to the piazza that she passed Cokey, Nathaniel, and Herbert coming out of the library. Their conversation cut off abruptly and didn’t continue until they’d rounded the corner.

  They picked up again as soon as she was out of sight. “I kid you not. We left early. A dead bore if you ask me.”

  Deanna’s steps slowed. They were talking about the ball last night.

  “I’m sure it was the same girl they found out on the rocks. He had her up against the wall.”

  Deanna stopped.

  “You don’t think he killed her?” Herbert asked.

  “Not sayin’ he did. Just that he shouldn’t be fraternizing with the lower classes out on the street and in a state of undress.”

  “I don’t believe it. Not Joe Ballard.”

  Deanna turned cold and her stomach threated to expel her tea. They suspected Joe of . . . She shook her head and listened.

  “Cokey’s exaggerating about the undress. His tie was off and his collar was undone.”

  “That only means he was just finishing up or just getting started.”

  “Shut up, Cokey,” his cousin said.

  “Well,” Cokey continued. “That’s what you get when you throw off society and go to live down with the footies. Guess Joe’s gotten a taste for low-class women. The Ballards have never been quite the thing, if you ask me.”

  “Well, I still don’t believe it,” Herbert said. “Joe’s a gentleman. The Ballards are old money, a good family.”

  “Ha. He even stopped and talked to us. Brazen bastard.”

  “Actually,” Nathaniel said, “he did try to step in front of her so we wouldn’t see.”

  Cokey laughed. “Like we would care. It’s not exactly unheard of to take a turn with the help.”

  “You would know, Cokey.”

  “Maybe I like a little skirt on occasion, but not out on the street like a commoner.”

  “It was dark,” Nate reminded him.

  Deanna moved closer and ducked behind a column so she could hear better.

  “Heard he’s friends with that police sergeant in charge of the case. Lucky devil. That kind of scandal would finish the family off.”

  “Wasn’t he engaged to Deanna Randolph?” Nate asked.

  “Yeah, but it went off for some reason.” Cokey laughed. “Bet she’ll be thanking her lucky stars. She could have been married to a murderer.”

  “Really, Cokey,” Herbert said. “That’s a terrible thing to say. You don’t know that he murdered the poor girl.”

  “No? Then who did?”

  Deanna reeled back. She wouldn’t believe it. She’d heard that some men took advantage of their housemaids. But not Joe. And not with Orrin’s intended.

  And he certainly wouldn’t have killed Daisy—or anyone. She wanted to run after them and tell Cokey he was wrong and to stop telling such vicious lies.

  “Well, just keep it to yourself,” Herbert said. “If it is true, he’ll never be allowed back into society for doing something so . . . overt.”

  “Dare say. But things like this have a way of making themselves known. Not to worry. They’ll never send him to prison.”

  “Maybe not,” Herbert said. “But society will make his life a living hell.”

  “True. I sure don’t envy him when it does get out,” Nathaniel said. “Poor devil. He’ll probably wish he were in prison rather than being a social outcast.”

  They passed out of hearing distance.

  Deanna looked frantically around. At least it appeared that no one else had overheard their conversation. She had to do something. But what? She couldn’t very well run after the men and make them stop telling such vicious lies. And she couldn’t go looking for Joe down among the warehouses. She wouldn’t be able to face him after having heard what she’d just heard.

  She would go to Gran Gwen. It was the only thing she could do. Gran Gwen would know how to stop the malicious gossip. It might be devastating for her to hear such accusations about her grandson, but
Gwen was a free thinker: She wouldn’t believe it about Joe, and she wouldn’t be ashamed to face society if it came to that.

  Deanna would go right away.

  No, she couldn’t. She didn’t have her carriage. She couldn’t hire a cab, because she hadn’t brought any money with her. Besides, she couldn’t take the chance of her mother finding out and insisting Deanna accompany her to Boston. Deanna couldn’t leave Newport when things were in such a state.

  But the Casino had a telephone and so did Bonheur, the Ballard’s residence. She hurried down the corridor to ask the concierge to put through the call.

  Will Hennessy returned around four that afternoon. Joe had called a halt to work when it was clear that Orrin was too upset to concentrate. They were drinking coffee when the police sergeant came inside, looking as if he’d not slept in days.

  Joe poured him a cup. Orrin had stood when Will entered the room, but at a nod from Will, he sat again.

  “I’m sorry about Daisy, Orrin,” Will said once he’d taken a cautious sip of the hot liquid. “I wish that you’d been told in a different way. Unfortunately, patrolmen are not always considerate when they’re doing their jobs.”

  Joe knew what he meant. There were as many power struggles and snobberies among the men on the force as there were on Bellevue Avenue.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Orrin mumbled the words and didn’t look up.

  “I have a few questions if you’re feeling up to it.”

  Orrin nodded. And Joe prayed that Will wouldn’t attack him with accusations.

  “Do you know why Daisy was down on the walk last night during the ball?”

  “No, sir. She was needed upstairs to see that the ladies’ room was kept aired and tidied.”

  “Did you have plans to see her later that night?”

  Orrin shook his head. “We were going down to Easton’s Beach on Daisy’s half-day Sunday.”

  “Did you have any misunderstanding with her lately?”

  Orrin looked up. “No, sir. What did you ask that for, sir?”

  “Just trying to understand what happened. If maybe Daisy was upset about something.”

  “Not that she told me. And she woulda told me. She was my—my . . .”

  “Yes, I know, Orrin. You were planning to marry her.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Would Daisy tell you if she were upset about something?”

  There was a flicker of a smile that was heart-wrenching. “My Daisy can tell it like it is, she can. She—” His voice broke, and he hung his head, his shoulders racked with silent sobs. “But if you think—that she would get so she’d throw herself off the cliff? You’re wrong. Killing yourself is a mortal sin. And my Daisy was pure . . . was pure.”

  Will and Joe exchanged looks.

  Orrin sniffed, pulled out a much-used and grubby handkerchief, blew his nose.

  “They found an envelope in her hand, but no note. Was Daisy in the habit of sending notes around to you?”

  Orrin’s head snapped up. He frowned at Will. “No, sir. Daisy don’t read or write. She’s learning, but not enough to write a letter or anything.”

  “Just one final question. Was Daisy in the family way?”

  “Course not. Her ma and mine woulda skinned us. We were waiting. Now we never will.”

  Will closed his notebook and returned it to his pocket. “That’s all for now, Orrin.”

  “Yes, sir.” Orrin pushed to his feet like an old man, Joe thought, not like a young man barely eighteen and looking forward to the future. It made him sick to think of what had happened to that poor girl. Orrin slumped out of the office and back to work.

  Will passed his hand over his face. “Sometimes I hate this job.”

  Joe nodded. “Where do you go from here?”

  “Keep asking questions. Wait for the results of the”—he lowered his voice—“autopsy. The family is pretty upset about it. The mother wailed like a banshee, and the only reason the father didn’t kill me outright is that he’s laid up with a broken leg.”

  “You haven’t found anything that points to it being an accident?”

  “No. And my superiors want it solved. ‘A murder during the first week of the season, that’s another month and a half to skewer the police force and incite every crazy out there to assault the citizens of Newport.’ I quote.”

  “And they’d rather you arrest someone from the Fifth Ward than Bellevue Avenue.”

  “I’ve been told to stay away from the elite.”

  Joe smiled sympathetically. “The more things change . . .”

  “The more they stay the same,” Will finished. He picked his cap off the desk, where he’d tossed it, pushed back his hair, and shoved the cap on his head.

  “Did you speak with Deanna?” Joe asked.

  “Oh, yeah. The father is protective enough. The mother—what a gorgon.”

  “And?”

  “Mrs. Randolph parked herself on a chair, and I was worried about how to pose questions to Deanna without getting myself thrown out.”

  “Did you manage to learn anything?” Not that Joe thought Deanna would know anything about what had happened except for discovering the body. At least he hoped she wouldn’t.

  “I’m just getting started, and the door suddenly opens and in walks Cassandra Woodruff. She must have been visiting. Told Mrs. Randolph that Adelaide was sick and she was needed upstairs. Mrs. Randolph had to excuse herself. Reluctantly.”

  “Was Adelaide really ill?”

  Will shrugged. “Possibly, but I’ll be damned if Cassandra didn’t cut Deanna a wink as she left the room.”

  Joe laughed. “Those two.”

  “Yes, Cassandra is a minx. Deanna is another story.”

  Joe, who’d begun to relax, grew alert.

  “That girl—young woman—I just can’t get used to Deanna all grown up—is something out of the ordinary. I began my questioning being very careful to keep within propriety. Then she starts asking me questions. And the details she remembered, when everyone else was in a state of stupid shock. The girl has a mind like a trap. If she were a man and not upper crust, I would have enlisted her on the spot.”

  Will breathed out a laugh. “I tell you, Joe. I was on tiptoes trying not to be indecorous, and Dee comes out and says, ‘We saw her face, she was lying parallel to the walk. If she jumped, she would have landed facedown.’ I about swallowed my tongue, and I was afraid her father was going to faint.”

  “Oh Lord.” Joe scrubbed his face with his hand. “You have to keep her out of trouble, Will. You told her to stay out of it, didn’t you?”

  “Of course. Not that it ever did any good before.”

  “Yeah, but that was child’s play. Not a murder investigation.”

  “Well, I don’t think we have to worry. Her mother is trying to take her to Boston while Adelaide sees a new doctor. Never knew a girl so middlin’ as Adelaide. A shame, for she sure is a beauty.”

  “Above your touch.”

  “Don’t I know it. Well, I’d best get back on it if I want to sleep tonight.”

  A thunderous knocking sounded at the door, making both men jump.

  “What the hell?” Joe said, and went to open the door.

  “Wait.” Will crossed to the window to peer out. “I knew it was too good to be true. Reinforcements have arrived.”

  “Open up in the name of the Newport police!”

  Joe looked at Will, shrugged. There was no use in prolonging the inevitable. The constables who patrolled the Fifth Ward had no more compunction about knocking down doors than they had about knocking heads together.

  Joe opened the door and was pushed back with the force of several constables rushing in, followed by Sergeant Crum, a rubicund man with a barrel chest and receding hairline. He was the scourge of the Fifth Ward, more intent on
punishment than protection—unless you were willing to pay, which not many people in the ward could afford to do.

  “We’re looking for Orrin O’Laren in connection with the death of one Daisy Payne.”

  Will stepped forward. “Thank you, Sergeant, but I am in charge of this investigation. And I will take a prisoner when there is evidence against him.”

  “You may eat out of the hands of the elite up on the Avenue, but this here is my turf. And I’ll do the arresting on it.”

  “Can you show just cause?” Will asked calmly.

  “I’ll show you my fist. The swells been calling the chief demanding action. And since they won’t hear of it being one of theirs, it’s gotta be one of ours. I’m taking in O’Laren.” Crum nodded brusquely to his constables. Two rushed into the workspace. A third hesitated, then with a small shake of his head, followed them.

  Joe started to go after them.

  Sergeant Crum stepped in front of him. He was much larger and taller than Joe, and he was used to intimidating his constituency.

  Joe attempted to sidestep him, but Will stopped him with a gesture.

  “That’s right,” Crum said. “You think you can come down here with all your money and try living like these people, throw your weight around, stir them up to trouble, but it doesn’t work that way. You’re just another Mick down here.”

  “Welsh and French,” Joe said.

  “All foreigners, if you ask me. You might can pass for American up there with those folks, but I know your kind.”

  He probably would have carried on some more, but the constables returned, dragging Orrin between them. He already had a swelling eye.

  Joe’s fists clenched.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Will asked, stepping forward and cutting off Crum’s view.

  “Caught him trying to escape out the back winder.”

  “I was not.” Orrin pulled against his constraints.

  The cop jabbed him in the ribs.

  “That’s enough,” Will said. “Go with them, son. Don’t rile them. I’ll talk to the chief, and if there’s no evidence against you”—he paused long enough to give Crum a fulminating look—“or trumped up against you, you’ll be set free by evening or someone can post your bail.”