The Killing at Kaldaire House

by Kate Parker

  Grandpapa put his head in his hands. He sighed deeply before he shook his head and looked at me sadly. “I wish you’d left as soon as he did that. Or never gone in there at all.”

  “I wasn’t worried. He didn’t act like he’d use it. He didn’t seem very angry about me being there. He had what Lady Kaldaire sent me to retrieve in his pocket, but I did open all four secret compartments in the desk.”

  “Well done, pet.”

  Grandmother came in, set the tea on the table, and walked out without speaking to either of us.

  “Oh, dear. I’m afraid I’ve made your grandmother angry.”

  “It’s my fault.” I hated upsetting Grandpapa’s peace.

  “No, it’s mine. I could have set things right years ago, but your father asked me to keep his secret. I have, but now I think it’s time to finish with secrets within the family.”

  “If it’s my father’s secret, then I don’t want to hear it.” I was ready to bolt, and I hadn’t yet told him why I was here.

  “You won’t hear it today. Now, what is this new puzzle?” he asked as he gestured for me to pour the tea.

  “I need to learn what you know about Jonathan Denby and Jeremiah Pruitt. I know they both have bad reputations, but little else.”

  “Denby? No, pet, you’ll have nothing more to do with this business.” He spoke so firmly I was shocked.

  “Why?”

  “Officially, Denby runs an illegal gambling den. That’s not bad, but it’s rumored he’s a blackmailer and an assassin who’s killed a half-dozen men with a sharp, thin blade. He’s said to kill men for hire.”

  “For hire?” I couldn’t imagine hiring someone to murder someone for you. That was more repugnant than strangling someone with your bare hands. I could see wrinkles standing out around Grandpapa’s frown and a slight tremor in his hand as he set down his teacup.

  “Gentlemen have been rumored to pay him to kill rivals for a woman’s hand or competing heirs for an inheritance.”

  “I can’t picture Lady Kaldaire or the new Lord Kaldaire hiring someone to kill Lord Kaldaire.”

  “You didn’t tell me he was stabbed.”

  “He wasn’t. He was bashed over the head.”

  “Denby stabs his victims. Always. At least that’s what’s said.”

  I remembered what Inspector Russell had told me. “Has he ever stabbed anyone with a hatpin?”

  “If anyone knows how to efficiently kill someone with a hatpin, it would be Denby. Why, pet?”

  “Jeremiah Pruitt was killed with a hatpin. Or something similar. And Denby was seen listening to a young lady’s father at the Imperial Club, where Denby is most definitely not a member. Lord Wyatt, the girl’s father, was heard to say he wanted Pruitt dead.”

  “That’s circumstantial. We’ve dodged many a jail sentence because of evidence being that weak.”

  “If this were more solid, it might be enough to stop Lady Kaldaire from investigating further. She’s taken an interest because the young lady, Wyatt’s daughter, asked her to. I can’t picture her telling a young girl her father might have had her lover murdered.”

  “Do you want me to sit in the Imperial for an afternoon and see if I can learn anything?”

  “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all. It’s a pleasant place to spend an afternoon, and it’s always good for a hint or two that might bring us business.”

  I could picture what kind of business that would be, and let his words slide past. I told him everything I’d already heard about Pruitt. “But I know nothing about Denby. If anyone gossips about him, I’d like to hear what they say.”

  “So you’d only be interested in recent gossip about Pruitt, both his death and Lord Kaldaire’s.” He smiled.

  “I suspect that is all you’re interested in, too. New gossip.” The kind that meant business opportunities for the Gates gang.

  “I think it’s time for Mr. Pettigreen to make another appearance at the Imperial. I’m not busy tomorrow afternoon.”

  “As long as that’s all you do,” my grandmother said as she walked into the room.

  “There’s nothing dangerous about an old man going into a club. Particularly one who’s a bit absent-minded and hard of hearing.” He reached over and patted her hand. “It’s one of my favorite disguises.”

  “And what will you be doing while he’s endangering himself?” Grandmother glowered at me.

  “Trying to find a way to get Lady Kaldaire off my back and keep my customers happy.” Two nearly impossible jobs.

  “Then you won’t have time to cook dinner. You and Matthew come to dinner tomorrow night, and afterward your grandfather can tell you if he heard anything useful.”

  I looked at her in shock for a moment, my mouth hanging open. As her words sank in, a smile spread across my face. “Thank you. Matthew and I would love to.”

  * * *

  The sun shone, business was brisk, and I didn’t hear from Lady Kaldaire all day. Pleased with life, I was tidying up at closing time when the bell over the door rang and a shadow fell on my shoulder.

  I spun around. “Inspector.”

  “Are we alone?”

  When I looked into his intelligent, stormy gray eyes, I’d have been alone with him if the shop were full of people. Fortunately, Jane had just left. I put up the closed sign and said, “We are now.”

  “Why did your grandfather go into the Imperial Club this afternoon?”

  “I asked him to.”

  “Why?” He took a step closer, standing improperly near.

  My breathing was growing shallow. I felt trapped, but I wasn’t fearful. The feeling was exhilarating. “I’ve heard that Lord Wyatt, whose daughter was very close to Jeremiah Pruitt, said he wanted Pruitt dead. He was in the Imperial at the time speaking to Jonathan Denby.”

  “Denby? He’s a…” Those eyes narrowed as they focused on me. “Do you realize how dangerous this is for your grandfather, asking questions about a man like Denby?”

  I was trying hard not to think about that possibility. “Denby has also been a guest at Kaldaire House since the new lord took over. Lady Kaldaire has no idea why.”

  “Nothing honest, I’m sure.” He looked at me for a moment. “Will you tell me everything your grandfather tells you about his trip to the Imperial? No holding any details back?”

  Since I knew Grandpapa wouldn’t tell me what he’d learned of use in the family business, I said, “Of course. I want you to find this murderer, and not only because then I won’t be a suspect in Lord Kaldaire’s death.”

  He nodded and took my hand. His skin was warm and rough and his touch was gentle. “Even knowing I’ll arrest anyone in your family I catch breaking the law, will you allow me to call on you after this business is over?”

  “Yes. Will you want to call on me knowing I’ll do what I can to help my family escape?” Then I had to smile. “Well, possibly not Petey. I’m still angry that he involved me by hiding his stolen goods in my factory. The idiot.”

  “Even if they break the law?”

  “They’re my family. Until my mother died, I saw them quite often. I’m very fond of some of them.” I saw his expression change. “Oh, dear. I’ve disappointed you.”

  And that hurt. I wanted to be as law-abiding and reputable as James Russell. I needed to be, but I was tied by childhood memories and blood to a family who made their living illegally.

  “Yes, but I’d expect no less. God help me, but I still want to call on you.”

  “And knowing your stand on the Gates family, I’ll still welcome your visits.”

  We stood very close, smiling at each other. Then he stepped back and executed a bow worthy of a courtier. I felt a whisper-soft pressure as he kissed the back of my hand.

  When he straightened, releasing my hand, I gasped in delight. “I’m having dinner with the family tonight, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Count on it.” He smiled before he strode out the door, setting his bowler hat on his head with
a pat as he left.

  I dropped into one of the backless seats available for our customers and pressed the back of my hand to my lips. Oh, my. James Russell was not your usual policeman.

  * * *

  When we walked into my grandparents’ house, I saw the dining room table and knew we were in for an ordeal. It had been extended to seat all of our aunts, uncles, and cousins. That meant my father would be there. Matthew stared at the table with wide eyes as he tugged backward on my arm. His signal that he was ready to leave.

  I put my arm around him, gave him a hug, and smiled as I looked into his face. His expression said he wasn’t buying it.

  Grandpapa came over with a pad of paper and a pencil. On the first sheet, he’d written, “Welcome Matthew. I’m your Grandpa.”

  Matthew took the pad and pencil and wrote, “I remember you.”

  “Good boy,” Grandpapa said and ruffled Matthew’s hair.

  Everyone stood around awkwardly until Grandmother said, “Sit down. The food’s getting cold.”

  Matthew and I were seated next to each other in the middle of a long side of the table. Grandpapa blessed the food and then platters and serving bowls came around at a rapid rate. When we finally were able to taste our dinner, Matthew tried a couple of bites and then looked at me with an expression of pure joy.

  I wrote, “Grandma cooked this.”

  He wrote, “Where?”

  I pointed her out at the end of the table. He rose, dashed over, and gave her a big hug and a kiss.

  She looked at him, startled.

  He pointed to the food on her plate and nodded as he smiled.

  “You like my cooking?” She pointed to go along with her words.

  He nodded again and kept smiling.

  “Well, Matthew, I’m very pleased. Very pleased, indeed. You have your sister bring you over more often.” Then she looked at me as if I’d deliberately kept him away from his loving grandma.

  I guessed she’d rather forget the terrible things she’d said when Mama died and we learned Matthew was deaf. I couldn’t forget them, but for Matthew’s sake, I could act as if they no longer mattered.

  “As often as we’re welcome,” I said.

  “You’re always welcome, pet,” Grandpapa said.

  After we finished eating, Grandmother and my aunts went into the kitchen to see to the washing up. I didn’t know if Grandmother had a scullery maid yet as well as a chambermaid, but I was sure she didn’t have a cook. The food was too good.

  “Boys, take Matthew into the parlor and teach him some card games. And no gambling! He’s your cousin.” Grandpapa turned to me and said, “We’ll go into the office and talk.”

  “I didn’t know you had an office.”

  “There’s a lot of things you don’t know, pet.”

  I followed him to the strangest office I’d ever seen. Ledgers everywhere. I counted four safes of different sizes in the crowded space. A number of exquisite paintings propped up against bookcases or hung from the walls. A board with several locks attached. Several old, brightly colored rugs in the center of the floor. Local maps scattered everywhere. There was barely room for the huge, battered desk and two chairs.

  We sat down and I said, “Did you learn anything at the Imperial today?”

  “Oh, yes. If you’re old, people expect you to be potty and deaf. I’d ask a question, making it sound like I’d misunderstood what someone else said, and then let them talk. Some of them are as potty as I pretended to be, and they said the most extraordinary things.”

  “How did you get inside?”

  “Enter a members-only club? The secret, pet, is to look and act like you belong. There are only two clubs that have less than one thousand members, and I stay away from them. What doorman, or member, is going to recognize every member by sight when there are fifteen hundred or two thousand of them and some live in the country and don’t visit often?”

  “Still, what if they question you? Or ask you to sign in?”

  “An old man with shaky limbs and poor eyesight is not going to have clear handwriting. I write down, say, ‘Herman Pettigreen,’ but it could as easily say ‘a dozen radishes.’ I’ve learned a cheery ‘Good day’ to the doorman or perhaps greeting a well-known, elderly member of the club as if we’d known each other for ages establishes my bona fides.”

  “What if the well-known man asks your name or says he doesn’t know you?”

  “I tell him, ‘Herman Pettigreen. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me, old boy, after all these years?’ I only do this with the elderly, because they are more likely to believe they’re slipping and have truly forgotten me.”

  “What if Herman Pettigreen is spotted at more than one club?”

  “One old man looks like every other old man. And I use a different name at every club I frequent.”

  “How many—?”

  “Only the ones that produce usable information for our line of work. And I make sure never to run up a bar tab. Perhaps a cup of tea, but nothing more.”

  I leaned back in my chair, amazed at what I’d heard. I’d never guessed it was so easy to get into places that claimed to be exclusive. “What did you discover about Denby and Pruitt?”

  “Shortly before Lord Kaldaire was murdered, there was an almighty commotion about a lost note. Apparently, a note was meant for Lord Wyatt, but the man behind the desk mixed up two notes and gave Lord Wyatt’s message to Lord Kaldaire.” Grandpapa’s expression was grim. “The note was from Jonathan Denby.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “So Denby left a note at the Imperial Club for Lord Wyatt, but Lord Kaldaire received it by mistake. If they were planning something illegal or morally questionable, Lord Kaldaire now knew about it. He would expect Lord Wyatt, if not Denby, to do the right thing.” I looked at Grandpapa and slowly shook my head. This had the makings of a disaster.

  “If the right thing was not what they wanted to do, I can picture either of them wanting to clobber Kaldaire for interfering. At the very least, they’d attempt to get the note back before he could take it to the authorities,” my grandfather said.

  “Which they must have, since the safe was open when Prince Maximilian arrived, and the letter he wanted was still inside. Someone opened that safe for another reason.”

  “Do any of them have that skill?”

  I looked at Grandpapa, hoping he had the answer. “I don’t know.”

  “Both the previous and the current Lord Kaldaire would know the combination.” He raised his eyebrows as he stared at me.

  “But the new Lord Kaldaire wasn’t in town.”

  “But…” He glanced up and then clambered to his feet as the door creaked open. “Oh, good. Harry, Sarah. I think it’s time, Harry, that you and your daughter have an honest talk.” His tone said he expected us to comply.

  I rose. “I don’t think there’s anything to say.”

  “Emmy, love, you need to hear me out.” There was a begging tone in my father’s voice. Not what I expected to hear.

  “No.” I tried to push my way out of the room, but my grandfather stopped me. I was surprised at how strong he was.

  My father moved to stand directly in front of me. With a hand under my chin to make certain I had to look him in the face, he said, “I couldn’t come when your mother was dying. And afterward, you wanted nothing to do with me.”

  I stopped struggling against my grandfather’s grip and said, “Why couldn’t you come?”

  “I was in hiding. I’d done a job with some acquaintances outside the family. They killed a guard, but not before someone saw us. The coppers were searching for me for murder. Noah found me, tore into me good for hiding instead of being at Elise’s bedside where I belonged. He was right. I begged him never to tell you what I’d done. Who wants his daughter to know he worked outside the family with blokes who would kill a man? Who wants his daughter to know he was too afraid of the noose to come out of hiding to comfort his dying wife?”

  I struck out, fury in m
y eyes and in my fists. “Instead, you let me believe all these years that you were a heartless, evil, selfish, rotten—”

  My grandfather gripped my shoulders. “He was none of these things. Stupid, perhaps, but not evil.”

  “And so I lost both my parents.” My grief overwhelmed me and I began to sob. Tears rushed down my cheeks.

  It was some moments before I realized I was in my father’s embrace. He was murmuring how very sorry he was and how much he missed Matthew and me.

  “Why aren’t you still in hiding? Murder charges don’t go away,” I asked, swiping at my wet cheeks.

  “The coppers caught the men with the gun during another robbery and hanged them. Satisfied, they closed the case.” He studied my face. “Now may not be the best time, but I want you to meet Sarah. She’s wanted to meet you for ages.”

  I pulled back, looking into my father’s face. The clincher was when Grandmother came in carrying a little boy. He had the face of the woman who stepped next to my father. “You got married and had a child and didn’t tell me?”

  “It’s been six years. You didn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “So now it’s my fault?” My voice was close to a scream. And to think I’d almost forgiven him for keeping one secret when he’d sprung two others on me.

  “No one thinks it’s your fault, pet,” my grandfather said.

  “You could have written me a letter if you didn’t want to see me in person,” I told him.

  “You would have screamed the house down. Just like your mother,” my grandmother said.

  “Aggie,” Grandpapa said in a warning tone.

  “How would I know that you’d read it?” my father said.

  “You could have tried. You could have tried telling me the truth for a change.” I took two steps away from him and turned toward his wife. “Sarah, is it? How do you put up with his arrogance? With his concealing the truth?”

  “He hasn’t kept any secrets from me since I hit him with a frying pan. At the time it contained his breakfast.” And then she smiled at me.