“As I’ll ever be, sir, though facing such villains is making me a little bit squeamish. But your men will be here. I trust them to keep me safe.”
“Ah, well, on that front, we will only have two guests. The American, David Manning, and possibly Matthew Clifford.”
“I don’t believe I’ve met David Manning, but I certainly know the baron’s brother. He was always such an unpleasant man, but are the others not coming? Is there any point to this charade if Mountbatten won’t be here?”
“This will come as a shock, Kendrick, so prepare yourself. They’re dead, or almost dead. Mountbatten from a heart attack, his wife choked on a fish bone at a dinner party last night, and Roger Witherspoon is so sick he cannot leave his bed.”
“Good heavens. Does this mean you no longer need my testimony?”
“I want it on the record for Constance. Her name must be cleared completely.”
“Yes, we definitely want that,” Kendrick said vehemently, “but such alarming deaths, and so close together.”
“It’s all rather disturbing,” Frank muttered, recalling the conversation about the second curse of the Statue of Kharute. “Regardless, let’s just run through what you’ll be doing.”
“I’d be very happy to do that, Detective. I’ll welcome the guests, and when they’re settled, I shall announce it was I who found the statue, and have been keeping it hidden away until such time as I felt it was safe—no, not safe—until I felt enough time had passed.”
“That’s right. Enough time had passed.”
“The statue will be there,” Kendrick continued, pointing to a round table set up in front of six chairs in a semi-circle. “I will lift the statue out of a bag, then one of your men will take over as the auctioneer.”
“Exactly.”
“Detective, may I inquire... why can’t you just arrest them when they arrive? Surely that would be enough to show they’re guilty of attempting to purchase stolen property?”
“I’m hoping to elicit conversation about how they stole it, and their roles in the attack on the Cliffords. A few of us will be acting as bidders too, and we’ll be doing our best to get them talking.”
“Ah, I see. Perhaps I could contribute in that regard.”
“Thank you, Kendrick, but it’s probably best you leave that to us. We have what we call a patter. We lead the suspect along in the hopes they will reveal something. Remember, part of your job is to keep your eyes on them, and if you have any reason for concern... what do you do?”
“Rub my nose, Detective.”
“That will tell me you’ve seen something that might be a problem.”
“And you want me here at 7:30 p.m. Thirty minutes before they’re due to arrive.”
“In case they show up early, and one of them very well could.”
“Indeed, Detective. I can well imagine it. How fortuitous my employers are on a grand tour while all of this is happening. It almost feels as if it’s meant to be.”
“Perhaps it is, Kendrick, and I’m optimistic the Cliffords’ daughter will soon be free to live her life and put this terrible business behind her.”
* * *
As Malcolm and Connie settled into the carriage to head home, Connie looped her arm around his and leaned against his shoulder.
“Hackworth—dead—it’s incredible,” she murmured. “How did the police know where to contact Mary?”
“He would have given all his information when he was arrested. Frank will probably know the details of what happened. I’ll find out tonight.”
“Do you still think curses are poppycock?”
“I admit, these strange events do give me pause. What was it about those with pure hearts?”
“If you hold the statue and you have a loving, pure heart, it will bless you with great happiness and a long, prosperous life,” Connie recited. “Or words close to that.”
“Hackworth took it home the night they stole it and Mary picked it up,” Malcolm muttered.
“She did? Oh, I see what you mean. Her life has just dramatically changed.”
“How did you meet her?”
“That had been such a terrible day. I had no idea where I was, it was pouring with rain, and I literally ran into her as she was leaving a haberdashery store. She took one look at me and insisted I go home with her.”
“What a goodhearted soul she is, but Connie, why didn’t you mention Mary had a son?”
“I almost did.”
“Surely you didn’t think it would matter to me.”
“No, but he’s such an impressive little chap I wanted you to meet him without any preconceived notions. I knew when you did, you’d want to help him just as the Earl of Brookshire helped you. You’re not upset with me, are you?”
“How could I be upset with you? Your generosity of spirit is worthy of...”
“What?”
Placing his hands on either side of her head, he kissed her gently, then forcefully, finally pulling back to stare at her.
“Connie, Connie, my amazing, beautiful, clever Connie. Rest assured I’ll make sure you are sufficiently rewarded.”
“Letting me come to the auction tonight would work,” she murmured, a twinkle in her eye.
“You are also relentless.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I’ll think about it, but don’t get your hopes up.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
At the Clifford house, Frank was about to slip into the garden and indulge in a cigarette when his second-in-command arrived with a letter. The moment Frank laid eyes on it, he knew who it was from.
“It’s marked urgent, sir,” his sergeant declared. “I thought I should bring it over personally.”
“You did the right thing, Sergeant. Wait there, please.”
Taking the envelope into the adjacent room to ensure his privacy, Frank ripped open the flap and read the note.
“Damn and blast,” he muttered under his breath, then pivoting on his feet, he marched back to his sergeant.
“Is something wrong, sir?”
“Nothing I can tell you about, but you did the right thing bringing it to me,” he said with a heavy frown, then lowering his voice, he added, “You know what’s happening here tonight, Sergeant Dixon.”
“Yes, sir. A secret auction of some kind.”
“Correct. I have to leave, but you’re to stay here until I return. If anything happens and you need me urgently, I’ll be at Malcolm Mead’s home. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, sir. If it’s any help I rode in a hansom cab to get here. It’s still outside.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. I might as well make use of it. Mead’s house is only a few blocks away, but it will be quicker.”
Running out the front door, he climbed into the cab and gave the driver the address. Things had been moving along well, but glancing up at the sky and seeing dark clouds hovering, he wondered if the tide was turning.
* * *
“Connie, I want you to come upstairs with me the moment we walk in the door,” Malcolm said as the carriage rolled to a stop outside their front door.
“I hadn’t planned on doing anything else, husband dear.”
After the fervent kiss she assumed he had something naughty on his mind, but a few minutes later, when they walked into their bedroom, he sat her down in the chair by the fireplace.
“Wait there for a minute.”
“You’re being awfully mysterious,” she remarked, thinking his manner far more serious than sexy. “Should I be worried?”
“When I found the statue in the shed, I came across something else as well.”
“What is it?”
“I would have given it to you sooner,” he said, turning toward her, “but I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Malcolm, what on earth—?”
“As we were coming home, I suddenly had the feeling now is the time. Perhaps because of the auction tonight, or because of everything that happened with Mary, I don’t know, but, w
ell, I found this,” he said quietly, holding out the photograph. “It was sitting in a box. There were other bits and pieces, but this was the only thing like it in the shed.”
“Oh, my goodness. I can’t believe it. This is... this is wonderful, but... how odd.”
“What is, Connie?”
“This photograph was never in this silver frame. It used to be in a large, wooden, oval frame my father and I chose together. I wonder why he changed it, but I wouldn’t care if it had no frame at all. Malcolm, I shall treasure this forever,” she murmured, fighting the heat in her throat. “I can’t imagine how it ended up in the shed, but I don’t care about that either.”
She suddenly felt her goosebumps pop.
“Malcolm, you don’t think...” she muttered, her eyes growing wide as she looked at him.
“That he changed the frame and left it there on purpose to be found? That’s exactly what just came to me. May I see it for a moment?”
“Yes, of course.”
Taking it from her delicate hands, he turned it over and studied the back.
“My mother thought she looked pudgy, but my father and I thought she had never been more beautiful. If there was a photograph he’d use to leave something for me, it would be that one. Do you see anything?”
“The backing isn’t sealed,” Malcolm said excitedly, walking to the bed and sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Come and join me, Connie. I’m going to take it apart here so I don’t risk dropping the glass on the floor.”
Moving quickly to sit next to him, she watched him carefully remove the thin piece of wood that sat behind the photograph.
“Oh, my gosh! Malcolm. Is that a letter?”
“I believe that’s exactly what it is,” Malcolm replied, lifting up a folded piece of paper, “and I’m sure it’s meant for you.”
Taking a deep breath, she accepted the note and opened it up.
My dearest Constance.
Of all our photographs, I know this is the one you will choose to keep if you’re able. I hope and pray you will realize I changed the frame, and your clever, curious mind will send you exploring.
The Earl of Landenbury is due here shortly and I’m very concerned. I have no time to give you details, but he has stolen the Statue of Kharute from the British Museum, and he is on his way to fetch it. He must be a very desperate man to have done such a foolish thing, and desperate men can be unpredictable. I cannot, and will not, give it to him. If anything should happen to your mother and me, you will have this letter as evidence.
I hope and pray you will never read this, for it will mean my worst fears have come to pass. Constance, there is money for you, and legal papers with my lawyer, Sir David Simpson. Matthew will inherit my title and fortune, but you, my dearest, will want for nothing for the remainder of your days.
You are the brightest star in our lives, and whatever happens you must continue to shine. Do not let the likes of Mountbatten or his ilk take that away from you.
Your loving father
“Here,” she said, handing it to him as the tears spilled down her face. “My father speaks to me from his grave.”
“This is extraordinary,” Malcolm murmured, reading the letter as he put his arm around her.
“We have masses of evidence now,” she blubbered, “but none of it will bring him or my mother back to me.”
“No, it won’t, but you will be absolutely cleared, and there will be no question about the guilty parties, or at least one of them. How smart your father was to have left this.”
“Except he could have put it in a more obvious place.”
“He must have thought it safer to leave it in this picture frame where Mountbatten would never find it. Tomorrow we must visit this lawyer and find out what else your father put in place. He was certainly right about one thing. You are a shining star. You’re my shining star.”
“Malcolm, I’m overcome,” she sniffled. “I feel as if they’re still here.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I must put this somewhere safe.”
Quickly folding the letter and placing it inside the pages of a book in the drawer of the nightstand, he sat back down and wrapped her up.
“I’ll always take care of you,” he whispered. “No matter what.”
“I know. Malcolm, I love you so much.”
Closing her eyes and melting into the safety and comfort of his powerful arms, she knew he wouldn’t let her go until she was ready. When she finally let out a sigh and pulled back, he tilted up her chin with one hand, and wiped the wetness from her cheeks with the other.
“Better?”
“Much, and you were right. This was the time for me to see that photograph and read Father’s letter. I was ready. I don’t think I would have been before now.”
“Why don’t we go downstairs and have Corbin bring us some tea and cake?”
“That’s a marvelous idea. I’ll wash my face first though, I’m sure I must look a sight.”
Rising to her feet, she moved into the bathroom and wiped her face with a cold, wet towel. Staring at her reflection, though her eyes were red-rimmed, they were clear, and she felt strong. Walking back into the bedroom, she found Malcolm had put the photograph back into the frame and placed it on the nightstand.
“Thank you,” she said gratefully as she moved across the room, then taking a breath, she looked at him with a determined glint in her eyes. “Malcolm, I must be there tonight. I know all the reasons you don’t think I should be, but I must!”
He paused, then nodded.
“Yes, I know. We’ll have our tea and cake, then I’ll walk over to the house and talk to Frank.”
They started down the hall, but as they reached the landing at the top of the stairs, they saw the detective in the foyer below speaking with Corbin.
“Malcolm, he’s here,” Connie said softly. “What a strange coincidence.”
“It seems we are surrounded by them,” Malcolm replied.
“Detective Frank Colby to see you, sir,” the butler declared as they walked down the stairs.
“Frank, I’m glad you stopped by,” Malcolm said, shaking his hand. “I need to speak with you too. Come into the drawing room. Corbin, tea and cake, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Frank, I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you look a bit unnerved,” Connie remarked as they made their way through the wide passage, “and shouldn’t you be at the house?”
“I left my sergeant in charge. I’ll be returning as soon as we’re finished.”
“It must be important for you to be here,” Malcolm said as they entered the room. “Is this about Alan Hackworth’s death?”
“How did you hear about that?” Frank asked, staring at him wide-eyed.
“We were visiting his wife and she’d received a telegram, but that’s a story for another time,” Malcolm replied. “Do you know what happened?”
“He was sharing his cell and the two men weren’t exactly getting along.”
“Ah. So it was a fight?”
“Not exactly. While he was sleeping his cellmate tied his shoelaces together, then stood back and yelled at him. Hackworth jumped up, went flying, and cracked open his skull.”
“Goodness,” Connie murmured as she and Malcolm sat down on a couch. “That’s the last thing I expected to hear.”
“Time to change the subject,” Malcolm said hastily, seeing the look on her face. “Frank, we found a letter from Connie’s father written on the night of the murder,” Malcolm said gravely. “It states Mountbatten stole the statue, and was on his way to pick it up. There’s more, but that’s the gist of it.”
“Where was this letter?”
“Hidden in a photograph Malcolm found in the shed,” Connie replied.
“What a shame it wasn’t found before now,” Frank muttered. “Does it say anything about David Manning?”
“Unfortunately not. Frank, the thing is, I know we decided Connie shouldn’t be at the auction, but I’ve ch
anged my mind. After everything she and her parents suffered, she should be there.”
Frank paused, then frowned, and was about to speak when Corbin arrived with the tea and cake.
“Please, Frank,” Connie quietly begged as Corbin set the tray on the sideboard. “I have to be there.”
“Thank you, Corbin, that will be all,” Malcolm said quickly. “We can serve ourselves.”
“Very well, sir.”
“I agree,” Frank murmured, the moment Corbin left and closed the door. “You can come to the auction.”
“I can?” Connie breathed, her eyes wide, shocked at Frank’s quick, positive response. “I’m immensely grateful. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
“We appreciate it very much, Frank,” Malcolm said, wondering why he’d given in. “So... what is it you needed to speak with us about?”
“Just that everything is set, and I think Kendrick will thoroughly enjoy his part.”
“I thought you said it was urgent.”
“Tonight is urgent,” Frank replied hastily. “I wanted to make sure there weren’t any last-minute hiccups on your end.”
“Excuse me while I pour our tea,” Connie said, rising to her feet and heading to the sideboard.
She knew he was lying.
He’d been adamant about her not being at the auction.
Now he had agreed—too easily.
Something was going on.
“Frank, where will I be tonight?” she asked innocently, returning with a cup of tea for him and one for Malcolm.
“I thought your bedroom would be a good spot. It’s out of the way and no one will see you.”
Going back to the sideboard to fetch two slices of cake, she considered his words.
I thought your bedroom would be a good spot. It’s out of the way and no one will see you.
It was as if he’d already planned it.
“That sounds right,” Malcolm agreed. “She definitely needs to remain out of sight.”
“You and Edward will be arriving from the back path, and you were going to climb over the wall, but I’ll have a word with Kendrick. It will be much easier to go through the gate of his property, then over the fence between the two houses. It’s quite a bit lower.”
“Yes, it is. It will be much easier for me too,” Connie remarked, returning with the rich chocolate sponge. “Frank, the only people who will be there are David Manning and possibly my Uncle Matthew. He’s too slow and portly to be a danger to anyone, and David is just one man. Surely I could be a little bit closer to the action.”
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