Old World Charm

by Cate Martin

  "I know I saw someone. They fled when I noticed them there, and by the time I got up to the room they were gone."

  "The room was locked," Reilly said.

  "I got in through the window," I said.

  "I meant, how did the person you claim to be chasing get out of the room without a key?"

  "Perhaps they had a key," I said.

  "There are only two keys that work on those doors, and my men had possession of both of them for the entire time," Reilly said.

  "Someone got in and out of there somehow," I said. "You can't exactly claim it's unfeasible unless you have an explanation for Thomas getting out of his manacles as well. Someone had access to those keys."

  The chief turned to look back at Reilly, both eyebrows lifted as if he too was curious what Reilly had to say in response to that.

  "Copies of keys can be made," Reilly said. "For all I know, you have one in your bag there right now."

  I clutched that beaded bag tightly, not sure what I would do if they asked me to let them search it. I had nowhere else to hide my wand.

  But the shape of the bag in my hands was wrong. Or rather, was right again. Because not only I was feeling the length of my wand, I could feel the magical skeleton key as well.

  Had I only imagined I had lost it? Or had whoever taken it when they bumped me in the ballroom returned it just as surreptitiously? Or rather more, as I hadn't noticed anyone bumping me since.

  Except Coco. Coco had hugged me for a really long time.

  Had Coco taken the key? But she didn't even know it existed. Even if she did, why would she take it?

  "Have you had much champagne this evening, Miss Clarke?" Reilly asked.

  "Some," I said. "But none since Ivy fell. I'm not now nor was I at any point this evening intoxicated."

  "Hm," he said and scribbled in his notebook.

  "She doesn't seem tipsy now, Reilly," the chief said. "And if she isn't now, I doubt she was minutes ago when Thomas fell."

  "Well, it wouldn't take much, would it?" Reilly said to him. "A bit of champagne, the shock from witnessing two deaths in one night, the poor quality of the lighting."

  "There was someone on the balcony," I said. "I didn't imagine it."

  "You're sticking to that story, then?" he asked. "Despite the six good officers guarding the doors around that room not seeing this supposed person who would have had to get past them to escape?"

  "They might not have had to use one of the doors," I said. "This house is filled with secret passages and hidden doors."

  "Built for children," Reilly said.

  "I can fit through them," I said, then instantly regretted it. The last thing I needed was to put myself on the suspect list. Reilly looked me up and down, eyes lingering on the skirt of my gown that was torn in several places, wet from the snow, and covered in dust from crawling through the passage out of Coco's room. And below that, my dirty, bare feet.

  "It looks like you have at that," he said.

  "Why are we arguing about this when you should be searching the house?" I asked. "The murderer is still among us, undetected by any of you, and perhaps about to strike again."

  "I'm sorry, miss, but I just don't find your story convincing," he said. "We've searched the entire room and the rooms around it, and there is no sign of any person lurking anywhere. No one was in that room but Thomas. That is a fact, and facts are all I have to work with."

  "That makes no sense," I said. "Thomas set himself free of his manacles how exactly?"

  "Thomas was a man of wide-ranging interests," Reilly said with a shrug.

  "Lockpicking as well as boxing?" I asked.

  "Perhaps he was a fan of Houdini. Many his age were when they were young."

  "Those are your facts?" I scoffed. He narrowed his eyes at me again.

  "He was alone. That is a fact until we find proof otherwise."

  "Are you saying he freed himself from his bonds then went out on the veranda to take the air and accidentally fell – head first, no less – over the rail?" I asked.

  "No," Reilly said, his eyes mere slits now.

  "I say," Mr. McTavet interjected. "Look here, Reilly, if you're saying the young man offed himself, I really must object. Think of his family."

  "We would need proof before I will tell them any such thing," the chief said.

  "It's more likely than an accidental death," Reilly said. "Look, I hate it as much as both of you, but we can't rule it out. He was a boy of strong passions. The love of his life was just killed before his eyes. We know he felt guilt for his powerlessness to save her. He was frozen like a statue until our boys put hands on him, but then he was raving when we locked him in the room."

  "We should have spoken with him sooner," the chief said, and Mr. McTavet made a murmuring sound of agreement.

  "Are you going to argue that he wasn't despondent?" Reilly asked me.

  "I never met him when he was still alive," I said. I too wished I had spoken with him sooner. "But from what I've heard, those strong passions you mention were more of the angry sort."

  The chief pinned Reilly with a look again.

  "We never did rule him out as a suspect to my satisfaction," Reilly said. "He could have killed Ivy in a fit of passion then offed himself in regret."

  "Let's not pursue this line of thought any further," the chief said.

  "But it fits the facts better than an accident," Reilly said.

  "Someone else was up there with him, I'm telling you," I said. "Since you won't take my word for it, it really is a shame that your man Stuart trampled over the snow on the veranda, or you could've seen the signs of a struggle for yourself."

  "Yes, a shame," Reilly said as if he had found another hole in my story.

  "Didn't you talk to Coco?" I asked. "Didn't she tell you about the person that was up on the balcony with them, that knocked her to the ground just before Ivy fell?"

  "She mentioned that," Reilly said with a look on his face like he'd just been sucking on a lemon.

  "For someone who insists you work with facts, it sure looks to me like you only accept as fact the things that fit your pet theory," I said.

  "Careful with your tone," Reilly said.

  "Reilly, we're not going to call this a suicide unless we're absolutely sure," the chief said. "And accidental death seems unlikely. Someone here has a motive to kill Thomas and Ivy both on their engagement day. The announcement took many by surprise, but for someone, it wasn't a happy one. Let's go over the witness statements again with fresh eyes. Oh, and Miss Clarke? You can go rejoin the rest of the party in the ballroom."

  "You should keep everyone together in groups," I said. "In case the killer isn't finished."

  The chief raised his eyebrows at me. "We did tell everyone to stay in a group in the ballroom after the first death this evening. It's just you and your friends that didn't get that message."

  I felt my cheeks coloring. He was right.

  "The witness statements can wait," Reilly said, flipping through his notebook. "Let's take a closer look at that veranda. Stuart might not have trampled on all of the evidence."

  "Upstairs, then," the chief said, standing up and stretching out his back. The others got up from the sofas, and Mr. McTavet got up from his chair.

  "One more thing?" I said as the chief walked past me. He looked back at me, less patient this time. "We can agree that Edward could not possibly be the one who killed Thomas, correct?"

  "He could still have killed Ivy," Reilly said. "We haven't ruled out two killers."

  "But the person who killed Thomas was capable of sneaking past guards and locked doors to get to him. Edward might be in danger. As his friend and a profound believer that his innocence will be proven, I'm asking you to let him come downstairs. Shackle him in the ballroom if you like. Just put him in a place where many eyes can watch over him. You can be sure he doesn't kill, and I can be sure he isn't killed himself."

  "Fair enough," the chief said. "Jerry, go up there and tell the bo
ys to bring him down."

  The young man he was looking at nodded and pushed his way to the front of the crowd to be the first to run up the stairs.

  And just like that, I was alone in the library. I opened my bag and looked inside to be sure I hadn't imagined it. But no, the key was definitely there.

  The fire was still hissing and popping, but I thought I heard something else, a softer sound. Like a skirt brushing against a wall, maybe? I crept closer to the fireplace, straining my ears in case the sound should come again.

  Coco had a listening place somewhere in the walls around this room. Was it near the fireplace? Were she and Charlotte in there now?

  Charlotte. If she had told the police what she had seen the three of us doing at the top of the stairs, they clearly hadn't taken her seriously, or they would have asked me about it.

  But why would she keep our secret?

  Chapter 18

  I was still moving slowly and silently around the library, looking for signs of little doors and listening for anything moving within the walls when the door to the hall slammed shut.

  "Sorry," Sophie said when I jumped and spun around, brandishing my beaded bag as if it were a weapon. "Heavy door."

  "Woah," Brianna said as her eyes grew huge. She looked just like Beauty when the Beast shows her his library. She was up on her toes, turning and turning to try to see everything at once. I was afraid she was about to burst into song.

  "Where are Coco and Charlotte?" I asked.

  "Coco is in the ballroom with her mother," Sophie said, handing me my sodden shoes. "The police are keeping everyone confined to the ballroom now. No one is allowed upstairs or even in the parlor."

  "And yet we're all here," I said, slipping my shoes on. Not that they warmed up my feet at all. What I really wanted was a bath.

  "Yeah," Sophie said with a humorless laugh. "Ricci was at the door when we asked to come in and get you since we were pretty sure you'd been left behind in here. He pretended to be against the idea, but he wasn't very convincing."

  "So what's that mean?" I asked.

  "They think we're involved in all of this," Brianna said. "They're hoping to use us as bait to flush out the murderer."

  "Why would they think that?" I asked.

  "Maybe because we're the only ones here for Edward?" Sophie said.

  "Did you see him? They promised to bring him downstairs," I said.

  "No, but maybe he's still on his way down," Brianna said.

  "Coco and Charlotte were in here just before I was," I said. "Coco told me she was sorry, but I have no idea why. I thought Charlotte had said something, but if she outed us as witches, no one said anything about it."

  "Why would they believe her?" Sophie asked.

  "They know we're from the school, and the school has a reputation," Brianna said. "They might not say anything publicly, they might try to present themselves as rational and logical and not at all superstitious, but I'm pretty sure they're all thinking it. They're watching us for any sign that she's right."

  "Assuming she said anything at all," Sophie said.

  "Something else strange happened," I said. "Whoever threw Thomas out the window somehow got past the guards without being seen, through locked doors, and got Thomas out of locked shackles before throwing him off the veranda."

  "Maybe they climbed down from the third floor?" Sophie said.

  "And picked the lock on the shackles?" Brianna said.

  "Normally I would think so too," I said. "But the problem is when I was talking to McConnell up in the master bedroom, I realized that the key was missing from my bag. But look." I opened my bag and took out the golden key. "Just now I noticed it was back again."

  "Are you sure you didn't just lose track of it?" Sophie asked.

  "Completely," I said. "Someone bumped into me when we were in the ballroom. That's when they took it from my bag without me noticing. But I have no idea how they got it back in there. I've been surrounded by cops since I noticed it was gone."

  "They took it from you before Thomas was killed?" Brianna said.

  "Exactly," I said. "Then put it back when they were done."

  "But how would anyone here even know what it was?" Brianna asked.

  "You should be grateful they didn't take your wand," Sophie said.

  "I wished you would have been able to tell us as soon as you noticed it was gone," Brianna said. "I could have done a tracing spell to find it."

  "I could have found it myself if I had a chance to go to the world of threads. It glows like a sun there. But there was no time."

  "I wonder if the thief knew that," Sophie said. "They returned it before we could trace it because they knew we could find them out that way."

  "Is there a spell we can do to trace who had it?" I asked. "Maybe the pathway of where it went when it wasn't in my bag."

  "Or I could identify the energy of the person who was holding it," Brianna said. "Let me think."

  But the moment those words were out of her mouth there was a loud knocking at the door.

  "Someone must think the police are still in here," I said.

  "I'll shoo them away," Sophie said and went to answer the door. I put the key in Brianna's hands, and she slipped it out of sight into her own bag. We both looked up as Sophie stepped aside to let Otto into the library, followed closely by Edward.

  "Edward! Why are you here and not in the ballroom?" I asked. "Please tell me you are not bait too."

  "Who is bait?" he asked. Even in the warm light from the fireplace and the soft glow from the gaslights he looked a sickly sort of pale.

  "It's just a theory," Sophie said. Edward more fell into than sat on one of the sofas. Otto went over to Mr. McTavet's desk and started touching the inkstand and pipe rack and other items on its surface as if he were shopping in a store. Brianna was tapping her hand on the side of her beaded bag as if counting her thoughts.

  "I have to… check something," she said.

  "Oh, you thought of something about the… thing?" I finished lamely.

  "I need a quiet place," Brianna said. "Perhaps as bait, I'll be allowed the use of the parlor."

  "Be careful," Otto said, his words muffled. He had put one of Mr. McTavet's pipes in his mouth.

  "Why don't we go with her," Sophie suggested. "I can help, and you can stand guard."

  Otto looked like he wanted to refuse, but Sophie tipped her head in Edward's direction ever so slightly. I hadn't told them that I had already done magic in front of Edward, so I could see why she thought we still had to shield him from it. But from the slow smile that spread across Otto's face, he took a different meaning from her gesture.

  "It's perfectly quiet in here," I said, but Sophie shook her head at me.

  "We'll be back in a jiff," she said.

  "Don't follow any leads without me," I said.

  "Of course not," Sophie said. "Unless I stumble over that Charlotte girl. If I do, she's definitely going to be telling me everything she's been telling everybody else, whether they believed her or not."

  "Fair enough," I said.

  The door closed behind them, and I was alone in the enormous but strangely comfy library with Edward.

  "Did McConnell get upstairs in time?" I asked, settling onto the edge of the sofa across from Edward.

  "In time for what?" he asked.

  "I got the sense that that Stuart fellow wanted to hurt you," I said. "You heard about Thomas?"

  "Yes," Edward said. "I don't understand what's happening here. Who would want to kill Ivy and Thomas? It defies reason."

  "I was afraid they'd still blame you, especially once they found you unshackled."

  "I wasn't unshackled," he said and mustered something of a smile. "I heard them rattling at the door and locked myself back up before they came in."

  "That was clever of you," I said.

  "I didn't want to get you in trouble," he said. "Not that they knew you were even in there."

  "I asked them to let you go since whoever
killed Ivy probably also killed Thomas, and that one couldn't have been you," I said. "But I don't think they've stopped trying to find a way to pin it on you."

  "They're working the case," Edward said. "It's not the all-out scapegoating of me that Otto likes to paint it as."

  "No, I suppose not," I said.

  "I've been going over and over that moment in my head," Edward said. "Since we talked about it together."

  "When Ivy fell?" I asked. "Do you remember another person up there now?"

  "No, not that moment," he said. "The one just before."

  "I don't understand," I said.

  "I'm not saying it very well," he said and sighed. His eyes were fixed on the hands on his lap. He was slowly opening and closing them, an unsettling gesture.

  "Edward?"

  "I was thinking about what I felt the moment when Mr. McTavet announced that Ivy was betrothed to Thomas. That moment."

  "Oh," I said. This wasn't going to be helpful information to the investigation then. "I was under the impression you already knew what was going to be announced."

  "Yes. Ivy had told me when I arrived for what I thought was going to be our engagement party," he said. "She told me, but it was like I didn't quite hear. Like the words went through my ears, but my mind just held onto them. Like a letter I intended to open later."

  "I don't suppose Ivy gave any hint that she might be in danger?" I asked.

  Edward seemed to find the question startling, like I had derailed his train of thought. He had to consider it a moment before answering. "No, she didn't say a thing to me like that. She wasn't nervous or anxious or anything. She was just… radiant. She glowed. She was like a pure thing, so very, very happy."

  "Ah," I said. Because I had to say something.

  "Then I went down to Mr. McTavet's study. He felt badly about how things were being handled, this last-minute switching about of engagements. He was very apologetic and promised over and over that I still had a bright future at the bank. But it was the same thing again. The words went into my ears, but I couldn't make myself quite hear them."

  "It sounds like you were in shock," I said.

  "Yes," he said. "I think maybe that's what it was."