City of Schemes

by Victoria Thompson

  “He’ll tell the newspapers,” Anna said. “He’ll publicly humiliate you.”

  “And Gideon, too, of course,” Elizabeth said, furious now. How ironic that she was now being blackmailed when she and Gideon had so recently foiled a blackmail scheme. Blackmail was such a perfect crime. The victim couldn’t possibly report it to the police because doing so would produce the exact effect that paying the blackmail was supposed to stop.

  But perhaps it wasn’t as bad as she thought. She didn’t have Thornton’s money, at least not all of it, but she did have a tidy sum saved up. As much as it galled her to do it, paying off Thornton might be the easiest way to be rid of him. “How much does he want?”

  Gideon actually winced. “Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

  The nerve of that man!

  “Could he really have lost that much?” Anna asked with what appeared to be admiration.

  Elizabeth had never known the exact total, since she hadn’t been involved in every aspect. “It’s possible,” she admitted. And she didn’t have nearly that much saved up, so paying him off wasn’t really an option.

  “The army was supposedly going to pay him three-quarters of a million dollars in the end,” Gideon said. “I guess we should be thankful he didn’t demand that much.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t thankful about any of this. “When does he expect to be paid?”

  Gideon sighed wearily. “He gave me a month.”

  “What are you going to do?” Anna asked.

  “I’m going to consult with the Old Man,” Elizabeth said.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Gideon asked uneasily.

  Elizabeth smiled sweetly. “If I have to run a con to get the money, it’s a very good idea.”

  Now Gideon was furious. “You aren’t going to do that. We’ll go to the police and—”

  “Nonsense,” Elizabeth said. “The police can’t help us, and going to them will only ensure that the whole story is reported in every newspaper in the city.”

  “But you can’t con someone else out of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” he argued.

  She could, of course, but she said, “Probably not, which is why I need to discuss this with the Old Man.”

  “Rosemary Westerly has a lot to answer for,” Anna said darkly.

  “She couldn’t have known that she’d be putting Elizabeth in such a dangerous situation,” Gideon said, trying to be fair as usual.

  She did love him for that, but it could also be annoying, because she had no desire to be fair to Rosemary. “You’re right, she was simply trying to manage our affairs for us, which is also inexcusable but usually not fatal.”

  “At least Thornton didn’t threaten your life,” Gideon was quick to assure her.

  “Of course not. He won’t get his money if he murders me,” Elizabeth pointed out, making him wince again.

  “But surely you don’t intend to pay him,” Anna said.

  “Heavens no.” Elizabeth thought Gideon looked surprised, but he shouldn’t have been. “Paying a blackmailer just encourages him to keep asking for more and more.”

  “What else can you do, though?” Anna asked.

  Elizabeth smiled with a confidence she did not feel. “Don’t worry. We’ll think of something.” Before anyone could challenge her, she turned to Anna. “I’ve been trying to figure out how Rosemary got on such friendly terms with a bunch of gossip columnists. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Heavens no! No one even wants to speak to those people for fear of having their words twisted and reported in the Sunday edition.”

  “But Rosemary said she knows them very well because they come to all the events she attends.”

  Anna frowned. “That’s true, at least the part about them coming to everything. Hostesses make sure they’re invited, and they report on who attended and what everyone wore and if anyone behaved inappropriately.”

  “But you’re not friendly with them?”

  “Not at all! And neither is anyone I know. Reporters are viewed more like spies than anything else.”

  “And yet Rosemary Westerly claims she knows all of them well, and she certainly is on good enough terms with them to send them information about our engagement and expect it to show up in their columns.”

  Anna turned to Gideon, who raised his hands defensively. “Don’t look at me. I don’t read the society pages.”

  Elizabeth gave Anna as much time as she needed to consider the situation. At last Anna said, “I’ve always suspected that some people in society give bits of gossip to those columns. It’s a perfect way to embarrass or get revenge on an enemy, and how else would these columnists know some of the things they report? I mean, people don’t have love affairs in the middle of a ball where reporters can see them, do they?”

  “No, and reporters aren’t likely to witness what goes on in the privacy of a hotel room or wherever an affair does take place,” Elizabeth said. “But Rosemary wasn’t trying to get revenge on Gideon and me or even to embarrass us, so why did she report our engagement?”

  “Because she’s a meddling harpy,” Gideon said with uncharacteristic vehemence.

  “Goodness, Gideon,” Elizabeth said in feigned amazement.

  “Well, she is. If it wasn’t for her, Thornton would never have even known you were still alive.”

  “You are so right, and I hope you remember that later when she has reason to regret her decision.”

  “What does that mean?” Gideon asked with a touch of alarm.

  “Not a thing. Anna, I have a theory about Rosemary and why she’s so friendly with the gossip columnists.”

  “Do tell,” Anna said with great interest.

  “I suspect that Rosemary may have a past indiscretion that she does not want reported, and so she passes along whatever gossip she hears to keep the columnists from reporting her own.”

  “That is a very interesting theory,” Anna said.

  “But even if it’s true, what difference would it make to us?” Gideon asked.

  “A lot of difference if I could find out what it is,” Elizabeth said. “It might even give Logan a reason to break their engagement.”

  Gideon sighed. “And what if the ensuing scandal just made Logan feel a greater obligation to protect Rosemary by marrying her?”

  Elizabeth sighed, too. May heaven protect her from honorable men.

  * * *

  —

  Later that evening, after the regular guests—including her brother, Jake—had arrived and Anna was engaged in a very serious discussion with two of her college classmates on one of the finer points of philosophy and Gideon was politely listening to a professor expound on his theory about mankind’s propensity for war, Jake approached Elizabeth. She’d sought out the quiet of the kitchen, where she could think about the situation with Thornton.

  Her half brother would never inquire about her well-being, but he did look oddly concerned. “Anna told me Thornton showed up at Gideon’s office today.”

  “Did she tell you how much money he wants to keep quiet?”

  “He’s a greedy son of a gun all right. What are you going to do?”

  “Well, I’m not going to try to raise that much money.”

  “That’s too bad, because I was going to offer to help you,” he said with a grin.

  “The last time you helped me with Thornton, we both ended up running for our lives,” she reminded him.

  His grin vanished. “I’d do better this time.”

  She felt a stab of pity for him, but Jake wouldn’t want her pity. “I know, but that’s not the answer. You can’t go near him, and we’ve got to beat him once and for all this time.”

  “Just let me know how I can help. I’ve got a score to settle with him, too, don’t forget.”

  She hadn’t forgotten. She considered Jake for a l
ong moment. “Did Anna tell you how he found out that I’m still alive?”

  “Yeah, something about your engagement being in the newspaper.”

  “Yes, someone found out about our engagement and sent the news to all the gossip columnists when she found out I wasn’t going to put in a formal announcement.”

  “Who would do a thing like that?”

  “Do you remember the story we told you about Gideon’s friend who fell in love with a French girl?”

  “Yeah,” he said uncertainly.

  “Well, it was the woman that fellow is engaged to who decided to announce our engagement.”

  Jake let out a low whistle. “No wonder Anna said she was a drip.”

  “Exactly. So now I’m more determined than ever to save him from her so he can marry his French girl. Oh, by the way, I’ve discovered that somebody is also trying to run the Spanish Prisoner on Logan.”

  “Logan? Is that the guy who’s in love with the French girl?”

  “Yes. The French girl is supposedly the Spanish Prisoner.” She briefly explained the situation.

  Jake got a dreamy look in his eyes. “I’ve never run the Spanish Prisoner before.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Neither have I.”

  * * *

  —

  The next afternoon, Gideon was in his office when Smith announced, “Your next client is here, Mr. Bates. His name is Sergeant Phillip Kellogg.”

  Gideon wasn’t sure which part of this was most surprising: that Kellogg had presented himself at Gideon’s office or that he apparently had an appointment. “Was this visit scheduled?”

  Smith straightened importantly. “Sergeant Kellogg came this morning, but I convinced him that he would be much better served if he returned at a more convenient time.”

  “I see.” Gideon really did see. Kellogg had bent to Smith’s will, which was very interesting. “Please show the good sergeant in.”

  Sergeant Phillip Kellogg was a man of medium height and compact build who carried himself with the erect posture of a military man. He was also still wearing his uniform, and Gideon remembered that Logan had called him a career army man. Perhaps he had not actually been discharged.

  “Sergeant Kellogg, pleased to meet you.”

  For all his military bearing, he stepped forward hesitantly to shake Gideon’s offered hand. He was a rather ordinary looking man, not someone who would make an impression if you just met him once. His dark eyes darted around, taking in every detail of the room before he sat down in one of the client chairs at Gideon’s invitation. Even then he did not relax.

  “What can I do for you, Sergeant Kellogg?” Gideon asked, still smiling in an effort to put the man at ease.

  “I . . . My captain, Mr. Carstens, he said you knew the situation with Miss Fortier.”

  “The French lady, yes. He explained it all to me.”

  Kellogg glanced around again, as if looking for an escape, but he made no move to leave. Finally, his gaze settled on Gideon once more. “She needs to get out of France. You don’t know how bad things are there. Or maybe you do. Were you in the army?”

  “No,” Gideon said with honest regret. “I was on the train, ready to head to training camp, when the Armistice came. I understand that you are career army.”

  “What?” he said in surprise. “Oh no. Who told you I was?”

  “Mr. Carstens.”

  Kellogg smiled at that, a quick quirk of his mouth that vanished almost instantly. “I was in the army years before the war. I joined up when I was a kid, but it wasn’t for me. Too many rules, I thought back then. I got out when my enlistment was over.”

  “I suppose they were glad to get you this time, though,” Gideon guessed.

  Kellogg’s strange smile flickered again. “Yeah, that’s why they made me a sergeant. I already knew how to march and follow orders, but those boys they sent to France . . .” He shook his head at the memory. “They’d trained carrying sticks, most of them, because we didn’t have enough rifles. Never even loaded a gun before. Babies, all of them.”

  “Even Logan, I suppose,” Gideon said.

  Kellogg’s head jerked up at that, as if he thought Gideon were trying to trick him somehow. “Captain Carstens did his best.”

  “I’m sure he did, but he mentioned how much he relied on you. He called you his good right hand.”

  “He did?” Kellogg seemed pleased by that. “Well, I guess he knew he could depend on me.”

  “I’m sure he did. The men who were in France don’t talk about the things that happened there, or at least not the ones I’ve encountered, but I know you saw some terrible fighting.”

  Kellogg’s ordinary face darkened at the memories. “We lost a lot of good men over there.”

  Gideon let that comment lie in respectful silence for a long moment. That gave Kellogg time to remember why he was really there.

  “Anyway, about Miss Fortier,” he said abruptly. “The captain said there was a problem with the money.”

  Gideon gave Kellogg his most professional apologetic smile. “I’m sure you’ll forgive me, Sergeant, but I’m not allowed to discuss my clients’ private business with other people.”

  “But I’m not other people. Didn’t he tell you? She asked me to help her. Me, not him.”

  “Yes, he did explain that, but I must admit, I’m still a bit confused. Why wouldn’t Miss Fortier write to the captain herself?”

  “Well, you see . . .” He shifted uneasily in his chair. “Didn’t the captain explain? He’s already engaged to another lady.”

  “I did know that, yes.”

  “And he didn’t give Miss Fortier his address.”

  “Then how did she know yours, Sergeant? You weren’t involved with her, too, were you?”

  “Me? No, why would you think that?” He seemed outraged at the very thought.

  “It just seemed odd to me that she would contact you about such a sensitive matter in the first place, but also that she happened to know exactly how to contact you.”

  “How should I know? Maybe the army gave her my address. There’s a lot of mademoiselles over there trying to find their doughboys because the boys left them with a little surprise, if you know what I mean.”

  “Is that Miss Fortier’s reason for contacting you?”

  “What? No! I never had nothing to do with her. Not that way, at least.”

  “Then you did know her.”

  “Of course. The captain was staying in her house. Well, her father’s house. We all knew who she was. Her father was the mayor after all.”

  “I see. So that’s probably how she knew you as well.”

  “What do you mean?” He seemed very confused now.

  “I mean if the captain was staying in her father’s house and you were his right hand—”

  “I was his first sergeant.”

  “So she would have met you.”

  “She would have seen me around, sure.”

  Gideon nodded sagely. “So naturally when she wanted to contact Captain Carstens, she wrote to you.”

  “I don’t know if it was natural or not, but that’s what she did.”

  “And you can read French?”

  He shifted in his seat again. “My parents were French.”

  “Really? They emigrated from France?” Gideon asked with interest. Although many thousands of immigrants had settled in New York City through the years, not many were French.

  “French Canadian,” he admitted reluctantly. “They live up north, in New York near the Canadian border, with a lot of other French Canadians.”

  “I guess that explains how you speak French. I suppose you spoke French to the people you met in France.”

  He winced a little at that. Perhaps his French wasn’t as good as he made it out to be. “I could talk to them, yes.”


  “And that would explain why Miss Fortier would feel comfortable writing to you, knowing you could read her letter.”

  Plainly, he hadn’t given this much thought. “I suppose, but what does it matter? The fact is that she wrote to me and asked me to find the captain. She wants to come to America, and he owes her.”

  “Does he?” Gideon asked with interest.

  Kellogg seemed a little taken aback. “Well, yes, he does.”

  “Why?”

  “Because . . . Well, because he led her on. He had no business doing that when he was already engaged, did he?”

  “I thought he’d been completely honest with her. Her letter clearly says she doesn’t expect him to break his engagement and marry her.”

  “I . . . Uh, yes, but . . . She still fell in love with him.”

  “I agree that’s unfortunate, but things like that happen all the time without obligating the man in question to pay the woman an enormous sum of money.”

  “Are you saying he’s not going to help her?” Kellogg demanded, suddenly angry. Or was he simply alarmed? It was difficult to tell.

  “I’m afraid I can’t speak for Mr. Carstens. Did he indicate to you that he intends to help her?”

  Now Kellogg was thoroughly annoyed with Gideon. “He told me he was going to do what she asked, but that he had to get the money from something he trusted and that would take some time.”

  “He may have said he needed to get the money from a trust,” Gideon suggested.

  “Yeah, that’s it. That’s what he said. So what’s taking so long?”

  “Perhaps Mr. Carstens didn’t explain himself clearly,” Gideon said patiently. “A trust is a financial instrument that allows a third party, a trustee if you will, to hold assets on behalf of a beneficiary.”

  “I don’t know what any of that means,” Kellogg admitted grudgingly.

  “Then let me explain it this way. Suppose I’m wealthy and I have a son who is still young. I don’t want to leave him my fortune outright because he might squander it, so I leave it to him in a trust. I name a trustee, who is literally a person whom I trust, to manage the money and take care of my son. I can also make rules about when my son can take money out of the trust and why and how much, and I can designate how much authority the trustee has over distributing the money. I can set it up in any number of ways, but the purpose is to provide money to support my son while not allowing him to spend all the money on riotous living.”