“What have you found out?” Annie asked, slamming her book closed and hopping from the chair, keeping her back to the bed and the body residing in it.
Soaking in the warmth of the crowded room, the popping of the wood burning in the hearth soothing my nerves, I held my hands out to stem her excitement. “We questioned a couple people, and we found some things out.”
“Only a couple people?” Copra asked, twisting the edges of his shirt. “Shouldn’t you be questioning everybody? Isn’t everybody a suspect? What have you been doing this whole time?”
I didn’t like my methods questioned, so I dropped a few levels in maturity. “I chatted outside with my husband while Doris danced.”
Copra dropped his jaw in surprise, and Annie’s eyes scrunched up.
Doris defended herself. “I was ascertaining that the victim’s brother was at this party and we found him and discovered some juicy pieces of information that may tell us who killed Oscar Cryer.”
Annie clapped her hands. “That’s more like it.”
“What we can’t figure out, though, is why he was dumped in your mother’s bed.” I studied Copra’s face, but it was blank. “Why would that be?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” he answered.
Doris straightened her spine, and when all eyes were on her, she declared, “The deceased was having an affair with one of the Stoker maids.”
Annie gasped.
“You see why it’s so important we learn why this man was found in your mother’s bed?” I asked. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“Mama has nothing to do with this. Not with Mr. Cryer, not with an affair, not with murder. Mama is too sick to get out of bed most days. She has nothing to do with any of this.”
“You must admit, it’s extremely interesting Oscar Cryer was having an affair with a maid at Stoker’s mansion, and his dead body ended up in your mother’s room.”
Copra glanced at Doris and then Annie before answering me, a little desperation in his voice. “Yes, it’s quite odd, it’s remarkable, a puzzle to be solved, but stop looking to me and Mama. Please.”
Annie stepped forward, placing a hand on Copra’s shoulder. “Mrs. Westin is only trying to establish the facts, Copra. Don’t be offended. And certainly don’t be worried.”
Copra nodded and patted her hand in thanks.
If Nora Copra didn’t kill Oscar Cryer, if she in fact had nothing to do with the murder as Copra insisted, then why was the body found in her room? “Copra, where is your mother’s room in relation to the maids’ quarters?”
“A lot of the servants are upstairs, but some of the scullery maids and kitchen staff are downstairs. But Mama isn’t a servant and everyone knows that.”
“Yes, but we’re not sure who the killer is. Maybe the killer didn’t know.”
“It’s funny you should ask.” Copra rubbed his chin. “Mama felt terrible for ousting that one maid because the room she was in is so nice and warm and is right by the kitchen where it’s always busy and a fire is almost always lit. That whole hallway is quite warm. But the maid was happy to give up her chamber to Mama. She never complained, and when Mama tried to refuse, the maid said she was moving out no matter what, so Mama might as well take it. The maid is young and of strong health. She also said she could use the peace and quiet of an upstairs room.” He offered me a shy grin. “Mama likes people and the hustle and bustle of life, even if she can’t really join in. She leaves the door open, and the staff wave and call to her all the time. I think that’s been greatly improving her health as well. Life begets life.”
“Do you know the name of this maid?” I asked.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
Annie squeezed Copra’s shoulder while I looked at Doris. Doris whispered, “Does this tell us anything?”
I bent my head to hers. “Possibly. I have a few thoughts. It’s more information than we had before.” So Oscar Cryer’s body showed up in Nora Copra’s bed. Was this done on purpose or did the killer think it was still the maid’s bed? Who would put a body—and specifically Oscar’s body— in Nora’s bed or the maid’s bed?
“What now?” Doris nudged me. “I can feel the excitement in your mind. Where to next?”
“I want to speak with Stoker.” I hadn’t kept my voice low because I assumed Copra and Annie would demand to know where I was headed.
Copra bolted to the door and blocked us. “Wait, Mrs. Westin. Please…you’re not going to get Mama in trouble. Are you?”
“Of course not,” Doris answered.
“I have to question Mr. Stoker because everything in this case involves him—or his house—in some way.”
Annie pulled Copra away from the door. “You must trust Mrs. Westin, Copra. She’s never let us down. Let her do her job.”
I still wasn’t sure what I’d done to earn such loyalty but if it dislodged this man from my path, so be it. Doris and I went out the door, waved to Chris—she adding a wink that made him blush again—and headed down the stairs.
“This is the most fun I’ve had at a party since…” Doris pressed her lips together for a moment. “Since another party I won’t speak of at this juncture.”
“This is fun for you?”
“Oh, yes. It’s out of the norm. And I feel as though I’m protecting Dad. He always used to protect me, back when I was younger and needed it. He still tries, bless him, but he taught me so well I simply don’t need it any longer.” She clasped my arm. “Mark my words, Ella. If you ever do need him, go to him. He’d do anything to protect you and Joe, and he has more practice than ten generations of thieves.”
“That’s comforting,” I said, holding back a cringe. “That really is, Doris. Quite comforting.”
Ignoring me, she led the way through the different rooms of the Westin mansion in search of Barnaby Stoker. We finally found him in the grand parlor playing poker with Jasper and Joe. Although, my husband was so into his cups he might have thought he was playing billiards.
The parlor was adorned in golds and greens, from cozy chairs the color of ripe limes resting atop lush, emerald rugs to plump, sleek golden curtains hanging over sizable windows, the frames gilded with shiny gold. Sunlight during the day and firelight in the evening glinted off the dazzling brass hardware scattered throughout the room, not the least of which included the imposing golden chandelier housing one hundred white candles. I drank in the room even though tonight it reeked of smoke and gin.
“Let me handle this,” Doris whispered. She sauntered over to her father and cried out, “Dad!”
“Daughter!” he called back.
“There you are.”
Peabody laughed. “As if he’d be anywhere else.”
The rest of the poker players laughed with him.
I made my way over to my drunken husband and kissed him on the cheek.
“Hella!” he said in way of greeting, and I was glad there weren’t any lamps near his breath.
Doris bent down and kissed Jasper on the cheek as well, only I heard her whisper, “Hold.”
“How many cards, Westin?” Stoker demanded, drooping eyelids covering most of his brown eyes. The once-pristine dark suit he wore was in shambles as one trouser leg bunched up over a dark sock and a button was missing from his wrinkled vest.
“I’ll take…none, my good man.”
“Very well.” Stoker nodded heavily. I thought his head was going to bounce off the table, but he caught himself and asked Peabody the same question.
Peabody was a small man of Italian descent with a bushy mustache he often twirled while deep in thought. “I’ll take three,” Peabody slurred, tossing out two cards.
Stoker squinted at the discarded items before finally counting two off the top of the deck.
Jasper won the hand. I don’t think anybody else caught him cheating, but the other men were so drunk, Doris could have shouted her help and they wouldn’t have caught on.
“How’re my favorite daughters?” Jasper asked.
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I forced a smile at him. His eye was bright and, while he didn’t slur his words, they sounded a little thick. He was definitely the least drunk of the men present. It should be easy to ferret out the name of the maid that had given up her room for Nora. Besides the fact that Stoker was completely drunk at the moment and would hardly notice an interrogation, he was otherwise a stone-cold-sober sweetheart who would think it natural if I were to inquire about Copra’s mother because Copra worked at my house.
“Mr. Stoker,” I said cheerfully. “How nice it is to see you again.”
“And you, my dear.” He bowed his head and tumbled out of the chair. Before anyone could react, he picked up the missing button and held it out to me. “I believe I’ve told you to call me Barney.”
His name was Barnaby, but I got the gist. “Yes, of course, Barnaby. I hope you’re having a wonderful Christmas Eve.”
“I am, I am, a delightful time.” Stoker grinned and fumbled around until he hauled himself back into his chair, gazing at Jasper. “My goodness, Westin, you’ve got yourself a fine pair of daughters, I must say.”
Focusing on his cards, Jasper smirked. “You’ve got five good ones yourself.”
“Yes, that I do.” Stoker sank back into his seat, but I don’t think he meant to.
“It’s a fine thing you’ve done for Mrs. Nora Copra,” I said, now hoping he wasn’t too drunk to be of assistance.
“Yes, it surely is,” Peabody agreed.
I continued. “I hear she’s beginning to get better. That her health is improving.”
Stoker waved a hand to the ceiling, almost slipping off the chair again. “Between my family and my staff, that poor woman doesn’t get one peaceful moment a day. But she seems to thrive on it.”
“Many of the cronny…cronally…” Peabody took a deep breath. “Many of the chronically ill are starved for company. They can’t help it. You or I can go out whenever we feel like it, but some people are too stricken to so much as join the family in the sitting room.”
“It’s true,” Stoker said, trying to focus on one of his cards. He turned it over. “Is that an eight of clubs or a six?”
“It’s a queen of hearts,” Doris answered.
I felt my cheeks grow warm at the name of the card whilst talking to Barnaby Stoker of the Copras and spoke quickly. “I’m surprised she took a room all to herself.”
“Copra wanted it that way. Said his ma liked company to visit but on bad days…well, she’s best left alone. Are you sure that’s a queen?”
Doris nodded.
Stoker shrugged. “When she keeps the door open, the staff knows they can be sociable.”
“But who gave her the room?” I pried. “What a wonderful thing to do.”
“That would be Mary.”
“Mary?” I asked.
“Mary Anderson. A lovely little girl but she’s a bit shy, I think.”
“Shy?” I repeated.
Holding the card six inches in front of him, Stoker opened his eyes wide, as though in a dark room trying to find a candle. “Switched to a room upstairs, toward the back of the servants’ quarters, and now we barely see her outside of her duties. A private little gal, our Mary is.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Peabody said. “Some of my staff could stand to be a little more private in their affairs. Everyone in the house knows everyone else’s business it seems.”
“Oh, you can’t keep secrets in a house full of people,” Jasper said.
Suddenly, my husband came to life next to me, laughing loudly. “That’s why Dad doesn’t have staff.”
Stoker and Peabody snickered so hard their cards flew from their hands, and Jasper’s skin turned red all over.
“I-I just like to…I handle the household duties myself, that’s all.”
Doris rounded his chair and grabbed my arm, steering me out the door. After securing it behind her, she said, “Poor Dad. He gets so embarrassed when he’s tipsy.”
“Tipsy?”
“Dad doesn’t really get drunk. Oh, his faculties are a bit dimmed and his responses might be a little slower, but he’s fully aware of his surroundings—unlike Stoker or Peabody or a certain brother I shan’t name.”
“Why is it so important Jasper be accepted by the cream of society?”
Doris shrugged. “He’s the best—was the best pirate this side of the world, known for his fair play and the fact he only robbed rich ships. He also paid his cohorts well. Plus, he took care of us, Joe and me. Dad didn’t drink to excess, and he only gambled exactly ten percent of his latest loot. Everything else went to us.”
I hadn’t known that. “He’s still a criminal.”
“Was a criminal, and he’s paid his debt.”
“He hasn’t paid any debt to any government!”
“Well, all right, no, he’s completely gotten away with it, but that’s beside the point.”
“That’s not beside—”
“Anyway.” Doris waved my complaint off, sweeping her gaze down the empty hall. “Dad’s afraid giving up the sea will mean he’s…” Doris stopped herself and looked me up and down. She took a deep breath, and I found I was all ears. “Dad’s two children are grown. We don’t need his protection anymore. Joe catches criminals, which makes him the black sheep of our family. The Westins come from a long line of pirat—thiev—people who…who don’t catch criminals.” Doris cleared her throat, an affectation she rarely expressed. “Dad doesn’t take to the sea anymore, so he doesn’t have that. He’s got nothing. He probably thinks he can build up this town and be of great benefit to generations to come, and by God, he could do it, but if he’s not accepted by society, he won’t be anything. Do you see?”
I was beginning to grasp the inner workings of Jasper’s mind. “He throws money at society so of course society will accept him.”
“He doesn’t want flash, he wants substance. He protects people, but there’s no one to protect him. If he contributes in meaningful ways, he can finally feel safe.”
“Safe?”
Doris straightened, staring at me as though I were a dim pupil. “Of course safe. Do you think pirates and thieves ever feel safe?”
“Never,” I said a bit too fast. Or, at least, I never did until I’d met Joe and started to feel comfortable. But that was so recent, and happened so slowly…
“If Stoker and Peabody accept him, the rest of society will follow suit. You and Joe work for the government, and if Ness—who is fast gaining the reputation of a flawlessly honest man—accepts him, too, Dad’s got it made. The pirate talk will dissipate, and he’ll be able to live out the rest of his days in peace, luxury, and safety.”
I let the words wash over me, soaking in everything I could, altering my picture of Jasper just a tad. I harrumphed. “I don’t quite know if that’s fair.”
“How so?”
I glared at Doris, but she genuinely seemed confused. “He’s a pirate. He steals. He deserves to be in prison, not in luxury!” I’d had to pay for my crimes. Why should Jasper be allowed to bask in his stolen riches?
“Oh that. Life isn’t fair, didn’t you know that?”
I was missing something. “How is it not fair to Jasper?”
“It is fair to Dad. It’s not fair to others.”
“Well, that’s not fair!”
“I already said that.”
I huffed, effectively putting an end to the conversation, and made my way to the ballroom to see if I could locate Seth Cryer.
Seth cradled a drink in one hand and two plates of food in the other. Three men were talking to him; they were laughing, but Seth was not. I walked into the little circle they formed and asked if I could speak with Mr. Cryer. He was more than happy to accommodate me.
“Fools,” he muttered after they wandered away.
“Who were those men?” I asked. I’d only recognized Edgar Grayson, a respected merchant. He sold textiles, I think. He was new to the area, and I’d only met him once. Charming, well-dressed, and quiet; I couldn
’t imagine how he could be a part of angering Seth Cryer, or anyone else for that matter.
“Ronald Peterson, James Waters, and Edgar Grayson. They’re in business together, or trying to go into business together. Peterson and Waters are falling over themselves trying to get Mr. Grayson to supply them with guns. Instead of paying him outright, they’ve offered him a stake in the business. He’s been considering it for over a week now.”
“That seems sound. Why did they rile you?” As Seth straightened up and stared at me, I thought it might have been too direct a question. “I can ask Jasper to remove them if they’re acting inappropriately.”
“Oh, my goodness, Mrs. Westin, no.” Seth had the good grace to laugh. “I’m upset because I don’t like Ronald Peterson—and Oscar and Waters know that, but they still won’t leave me alone.”
I wasn’t following, but instead of asking another direct question, I looked as confused as possible.
“Mrs. Westin, are you feeling all right?”
So much for my acting ability. “Quite all right. I was trying to remember who Mr. Waters is.”
“Oscar’s partner, of course. A fool if I’ve ever met one, and I’ve met plenty. He drags Oscar into one failed endeavor after another. That was one of the things we were going to speak about on the way over here.”
“One of the things? What was that? If you don’t mind my asking. I’m curious. You’re such an amiable man, you must think I do nothing but go around prying into other people’s lives. It’s simply that you’re so easy to listen to.”
Furrowing his brow, he lowered his voice. “I know all you do is go around prying into other people’s lives, Mrs. Westin. It’s your job.”
Now he was being direct, and I liked him for it. “But it’s a holiday.”
“That it is.” Seth downed the rest of his drink in one healthy gulp. “Waters wants my brother to join Peterson in this new business venture. Selling guns. When Oscar first consulted me for my opinion, I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea, if only because his financial situation couldn’t stand a huge loss should it not pan out. Peterson wants a lot of money to start this up. Oscar’s reaching, or he would be if he agreed.”
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