by Kate Parker
Lord Kaldaire wearily nodded.
I was ready to cheer. Then I realized the truth about his wound would include the “burglars” tossing things about in his study and suddenly, the truth didn’t look so appealing. They were family and they’d saved my life. Somehow, I’d have to negate some of that truth.
“Excuse me, Inspector, but who repeatedly broke into my shop and attacked first Noah, and then Jane, and finally me? I’ll be happy to swear out a complaint against whichever one of them targeted my home.” I stared hard at Lord Kaldaire.
“I don’t hang around shops waiting to attack young women,” Lord Kaldaire sneered.
“Then you’ll be happy to testify that Mr. Denby was the one who attacked us?” I said.
“Don’t be ridiculous. He must have had one of his henchmen attack you, trying to scare you off. Denby doesn’t bother with trifling matters himself.”
“And you knew about it.” I swung around and faced Russell. “Inspector, I want him charged with being a party to the attacks on me and my family.”
“We’ll see, Miss Gates,” Russell said and signaled to the bobby at the door to usher all four of us women from the room. As we went to the morning room, the elder Lady Kaldaire called for tea.
“Gracious,” Lady Linchester said. “It’s so exciting in the city, Roberta. No wonder you prefer to live here.”
“What will happen to my husband?” Cecily asked her sister-in-law while lowering herself gracefully into a chair.
“We have a very good solicitor. I’m sure he can put a word in the right ears. Laurence will have to testify, but I’m sure Denby will hang. He won’t bother Laurence again.”
“And will that nonsense about the DMLR railway have to come out?”
“Yes. But not officially. Only in rumors among our circle of friends.” The elder Lady Kaldaire’s tone was dry.
“Oh, dear heavens, no,” Cecily cried out. “Please don’t tell anyone. He’ll be shunned for cheating our friends, and the children and I will suffer. I’ve only just come to London and already I’ll be forced to return to the miserable countryside to avoid society’s snubs. Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Oh, it’ll be forgotten. In a generation or two,” Lady Linchester said in a stern voice. “Think of the misery Lady Taylor went through for years, and her late husband had done nothing wrong.”
“Except start an ill-fated investment,” Lady Kaldaire said. “If anyone asks me, I’ll say you two went back to the country for your health. But if anyone asks, I won’t deny that Laurence cheated his friends. Now, you’d better instruct your maid to start packing.”
Cecily gave each of us a wild-eyed look before dashing from the room.
“I do believe Laurence will pay for his foolishness for the rest of his life,” Roberta, Lady Kaldaire, said. Then as the tea arrived, she began to pour with a smile on her face. “Denby will be hanged for two murders, Laurence will be persecuted by Cecily for eternity, and Horace has been avenged. I feel quite proud of us.”
Lady Linchester began to list people she needed to write to about her adventures in town. No doubt she’d describe the current Lord Kaldaire selling stock to three different friends as well as his role in two deaths. Lady Kaldaire suggested a few more names.
I drank my tea in a hurry. As far as I was concerned, I’d carried out my mission for Lady Kaldaire. “If you don’t need anything else, I should get back to my shop.”
She smiled at me. “Thank you, Emily, for everything. You’ve been a great success. I shall tell all my friends about you.”
That was the last thing I needed. “Only that I design wonderful hats.” I hoped I never had to do any more detecting. Or put my cousins at risk again.
“Of course, Emily. What else could I possibly say?” Lady Kaldaire spoke in such an innocent tone that I knew I was in trouble. I just had no idea where the danger was coming from, or when.
But as I returned to my shop, I realized we had no idea why Denby would have killed Pruitt if he knew Lord Wyatt hadn’t agreed to pay for the murder. Did he have another motive? Or had Lord Wyatt agreed and both men were keeping quiet?
* * *
When I opened the shop the next morning, Inspector Russell was waiting for me. “Is your assistant here?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. I’m worried about you, Emily.”
“I worry for you, James. You’re a policeman.”
“Denby is a dangerous man. Crossing him has led to several deaths. He stabbed one constable and broke the arm of another when we went to arrest him yesterday. You shouldn’t have confronted him on your own.”
I focused on the one thing I thought was important. “He tried to escape?”
“Yes. Fortunately, he was unsuccessful.”
“Are the policemen all right?” It could have been Inspector James Russell. I didn’t want him injured. Ever.
“Yes. Both are recovering. Denby is now in chains awaiting trial. We finally have him for one murder as well as blackmail, thanks in part to you and Lord Kaldaire.”
I had to smile at getting his acknowledgement. His was the only one that mattered.
“Before he learned about the murder charge, he fingered one of his henchmen for the attacks here. A local thug with a long scar on his left cheek.” He grinned. “Fortunately, there’s no honor among thieves. The thug is telling us everything he knows about Denby and how he was paid to attack you and the hat shop to warn you away from Kaldaire House.”
“I feel safer now that the man with the scar is locked up, but what about the death of Mr. Pruitt? Will Mr. Denby be charged with that murder, too?”
“It’s probable Denby did it, but without the note, we have no motive. We have no witnesses. Lord Wyatt was shocked when we spoke to him.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows, not believing in Lord Wyatt’s “shock.” “Why would Mr. Denby kill Mr. Pruitt if not for money?”
“Wyatt admits he was blindingly angry because he thought Pruitt was going to elope with his daughter, or run off and ruin her. He was shouting in rage in the lobby of the club because a member had overheard his daughter and Pruitt planning a rendezvous and had chosen that moment to tell him. He doesn’t remember Denby standing there. Once he cooled down, he went home and told his wife and they made plans to keep her inside and in their sight at the time of this arranged meeting.”
“So he claims to have no reason to have Pruitt killed. Did Denby tell you why he thought Lord Wyatt would pay him?”
“Denby’s telling us nothing.” He smiled ruefully before his smile slipped off his face. “And you crossed Denby at Kaldaire House on your own, with no one protecting you. I don’t know why he stabbed Kaldaire instead of you—”
“My family protected me.” The truth just slid out, and I could have kicked myself as soon as it did. I saw the expression in Russell’s eyes change.
Then he blinked. “What?”
I turned on him. “The Gates family, those criminals you’re constantly trying to catch, saved my life. I don’t expect you to stop chasing them, but they’re not bad people.”
All expression vanished from his face and from his lovely gray eyes. “Why were they there?”
“I asked them to come. Lady Kaldaire asked me to bring a hat for Cecily and then go into the study and open the window for a later entry.”
“So your family could get in.”
“No. Lady Kaldaire and me. We were going to search the study for clues. Find the note from Mr. Denby. Anything that would tell us who killed Lord Kaldaire. I asked my family to come because I wanted professional help with our search.”
“And instead they came in and rescued you.”
“Yes.”
We stared into each other’s eyes for ages as I watched James’s darken and warm. He began to lean toward me when the shop bell rang.
“Mornin’. Ooops.” Jane bit her lip to fight a smile and busied herself in a far corner.
“Lady Cramer has an appointment in fi
ve minutes. The last time she was here, she was dithering over a black and yellow deep crown with roses around the brim. Start there. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I headed into the shop storeroom. “Inspector?”
He followed me in and shut the door. Leaning on it, he said, “How are you going to feel if I have to arrest your relatives? Or if they’re taken in by one of a hundred other officers?”
“You, or they, would be doing your job. I won’t help my family, but I won’t help you either.” I shook my head. “Not that they’d ever admit anything to me.”
He studied the bare wooden floor. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Not when a lord is courting you.”
His words made me blink. “Who?”
“Lord George Whitaker. The man with the motor carriage. He gave you a ride home from Kaldaire House the other night.”
“You were watching me?” I didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.
“One of the lads was assigned to watch the house. He mentioned it.”
“He and his mother gave me a ride. He’s not courting me. I don’t have the right pedigree.”
He crossed his arms. “I know when a man is courting a girl. I heard about your friendship when I was sent to Rolling Badger to investigate another matter and ended up working the burglary at The Willows. Lord George Whitaker couldn’t stop singing your praises. Everyone else said he was potty over you.”
“They also would have noticed because I’m not suitable. Lord George is not my type. He hasn’t a brain in his head. And I know when a man is being silly, James Russell.” I heard the bell ring faintly over the shop door. “I have a customer and you must have work. If there’s nothing else?”
He grinned and lowered his arms. “I was hoping for another invitation to dinner with you and Matthew. Now that we don’t have to discuss police business.”
I had to smile at his forwardness. “Tell me what night, and I’ll tell Mrs. McCauley to make extra.”
“I’m off Thursday evening.”
“I’ll expect you at seven.”
“I look forward to it.”
“So do I.”
Then we stared into each other’s eyes for a long time, followed by a magical kiss that left me breathless. By the time he slipped out into the alley, promising to see me at seven on Thursday night, my face was quite heated and my lips felt swollen.
Thank goodness there was a mirror in the workshop. I straightened my hairdo and adjusted my clothes before I wiped the smile off my face and walked back into the shop. “Lady Cramer…”
If you would like to hear the latest news from Kate Parker, sign up for my email newsletter on http://www.KateParkerbooks.com
Also by Kate Parker
The Victorian Bookshop Mysteries
The Vanishing Thief
The Counterfeit Lady
The Royal Assassin
The Conspiring Woman
The Detecting Duchess
The Deadly Series
Deadly Scandal
Deadly Wedding
Deadly Fashion
The Milliner Mysteries
The Killing at Kaldaire House
Author’s Notes
I remember watching My Fair Lady as a child. I don’t remember where I saw it, or much about the plot, but I remember the hats, the parasols, and the gowns. That show hooked me on Edwardian fashions. Combined with watching Mary Poppins, and I was in love with the simple innocence of the time.
The historian in me says wait! Not so fast. There was plenty about the era that was dirty, brutish, and cruel. But I choose in my books to try to capture the nostalgia and the essence of a gentler age. Just as murder, real murder, is horrifying, I choose to write cozy mysteries. I welcome the reader in to enjoy the era and the puzzle of the mystery. Step into my sleuth’s fashionable shoes, don’t trip on the long skirts, and come along for a ride in an antique car.
About the Author
Kate Parker grew up reading her mother’s collection of mystery books and her father’s library of history and biography books. Now she can’t write a story that isn’t set in the past with a few decent corpses littered about. It took her years to convince her husband she hadn’t poisoned dinner; that funny taste is because she can’t cook. Now she can read books on poisons and other lethal means at the dinner table and he doesn’t blink.
Their children have grown up to be surprisingly normal, but two of them are developing their own love of literary mayhem, so the term “normal” may have to be revised.
Living in a nineteenth century town has further inspired Kate’s love of history. But as much as she loves stately architecture and vintage clothing, she has also developed an appreciation of central heating and air conditioning. She’s discovered life in coastal Carolina requires her to wear shorts and T-shirts while drinking hot tea and it takes a great deal of imagination to picture cool, misty weather when it’s 90 degrees out and sunny.
Follow Kate and her deadly examination of history at www.KateParkerbooks.com and www.Facebook.com/Author.Kate.Parker/