She didn’t regret that their engagement ended, but she never had wished him harm. “I still can’t believe Jason is dead.”
His mouth tightened. “It is unfortunate. The police will discover who did it however. He is important enough for them to care.”
“Do you think they wouldn’t care otherwise?”
“Of course not. Haven’t you been reading the latest editions of the Chicago Courier-Times? That rag hasn’t missed announcing a single death around here. I’m beginning to think their star reporter, Benson Gage, must live in one of the tenements down the street.”
“I have read Gage’s reports, if you can call them that. His stories and comments are so sensational, I’ve often considered them to be exaggerated.”
“They weren’t, well, not all that much. However, whether they were sensationalized or not, it didn’t matter. Nothing was ever investigated.”
“Nothing?”
“Lydia, surely even you realize that no one pays too much attention to what happens to the poor or downtrodden. Especially not the majority of the men and women living on Camp Creek Alley.”
His tone had changed. Became rougher and, she thought, threaded with a bit of disappointment. “Were you born here, Sebastian?”
“That, Miss Bancroft, is none of your concern.”
She heard the resolve in his voice, and she supposed she couldn’t blame him. Everyone needed something that was just their own. Who was she to say his secrets weren’t worth guarding?
Besides, they had more important problems than his past or the specifics of their relationship. “Sebastian, what if the police don’t discover who murdered Jason?” Before he could reply, a new, terrible thought entered her mind. “I can hardly believe they think you or I did it, even if Jason did owe you money and he did call off our engagement. But if they learn Jason manhandled me at the Hartman, they’ll consider that a motive too—for both of us.”
“Lydia, we did not harm Avondale. Remember, you were asleep and I was in here with you working. Even if either of us did do something nefarious, they couldn’t investigate. After all, we are each other’s alibi.”
“But what if the police don’t believe us?”
“They will. You are a woman of worth. Of course they would never think anything like that of you. I am sure they are merely observing protocol.”
She knew he was trying to ease her troubled mind. Unfortunately, he was failing miserably. “What if we are sent to prison?”
“That is not going to happen.”
“You sound so sure.”
“I will allow nothing to happen to you, Lydia.” As he gathered his next words, he stared hard at her. The intensity in his gaze both slightly alarming and a little endearing too. In that moment, Lydia knew she did trust him. Probably more than anyone else in her life.
“If you believe in nothing else I say, please believe that,” he added.
“I’ll try.” After all, what else could she do?
“Try harder.” He snapped his fingers. “Now, go to the basin and splash some water on your face. It is time we went downstairs. I need to see what is happening.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. She wouldn’t have thought she could summon her usual tart tongue, but she did.
As she hoped, her quip eased the fine lines of tension around his mouth and eyes. “Watch yerself, Miss Bancroft,” he retorted in a voice that sounded as if he had been living his whole life on the streets. “If you aren’t careful, you’re going to turn into quite the tartar.”
“Ah, but that was my intention. I’ve decided to live the rest of my life as a tartar. All will fear me and give me a wide berth.” She lifted her chin in what she hoped was a haughty way. “Perhaps I’ll move to one of the lighthouses dotting the Great Lakes. I’ll spend my days watching the ships sail around.”
“If you did that, I would lose my librarian, Miss Bancroft,” he said gently. “And we both know I would never allow that to happen.”
She grinned. “I suppose not.”
After she saw to her ablutions in the beautiful bathing room, she walked by his side down the stairwell.
Now that there was no music drifting upward, no raucous, ribald talk, no laughter, the Silver Grotto seemed far less full of flair.
The farther down they went, the greater her apprehension grew. She wasn’t sure what her relationship with Sebastian was. It wasn’t like they actually knew each other all that well. Beyond their recent acquaintance, she wasn’t sure if their tenuous friendship could survive a situation like they were in.
What was even more surprising was how much she already had come to appreciate his presence in her life. She would surely miss him if this tragedy parted their ways.
“Chin up, Lydia,” he murmured. “Come, take my arm. We’ll get through these next few minutes together.”
She curved her hand around his elbow with relief. She needed his sturdy presence in her life.
They reached the first landing. He paused. “Are you still well?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“All right then.” They continued downward.
However, she couldn’t hold back her gasp when she saw the scene below. At least forty men—and a couple of women—from all walks of life were standing around the area. Some looked irritated, others tired, others angry and on the verge of losing their tempers.
No fewer than six uniformed police officers were scattered around the perimeter. They seemed to be both guarding the exits and doing their best to calm the crowd.
Off to one side stood a nervous-looking Bridget and Mr. Hunt. Bridget was staring off into the distance, the expression of shock and dismay on her face mirroring how Lydia felt inside. In contrast, Mr. Hunt was looking intently at Sebastian.
Lydia didn’t know either man well enough to determine if Mr. Hunt looked worried about himself, concerned for his employer, or was merely attempting to learn what Mr. Marks wanted him to do next.
Finally, Lydia allowed herself to look directly into the center of the room. Lieutenant Howard and Captain Ryan were standing close together, having a conversation with a rather worn-looking man in a white coat.
And directly at their feet was a body. Shiny black shoes were sticking out from underneath what looked to be a white tablecloth.
Lydia started shaking as she realized that, of course, she was staring at the remains of Jason Avondale.
“Looks like they brought him inside,” Sebastian muttered under his breath. “Makes sense; it’s well below freezing.”
His casual observation didn’t make her feel any better.
Immediately Sebastian placed an arm around her waist and took her arm with his other hand. His position essentially enveloped her, and though it might have been awkward for him, she’d never felt more safe.
He refused to let her stop. “Lydia, I know you’re distressed. I know this is unpleasant. But I need you to press on. I cannot get you home until the officers finish here. And for that they need our cooperation.”
“Yes, Sebastian.”
“Thank you,” he said right as they came to a stop.
Before Sebastian could say a word, voices began calling out to him.
“Marks, I need to be getting home. When are you going to release us?”
“Marks, leave your ladylove alone and fix this. Whatever is keeping me here?”
“Marks, do something!”
As the crowd’s voices seemed to intensify, Sebastian dropped his hands from her side and raised a hand to the crowd. “Silence,” he said.
Immediately everyone in the room did as he bid.
Lydia was amazed. He hadn’t yelled. He hadn’t even repeated himself. But everyone took his word to be the voice of authority.
“Gentlemen, I beg your pardon, but I imagine even you all will agree that there are some things more important than our petty desires. Death is one of them.” Glaring at Captain Ryan, he added, “I’m sure these officers will take your statements and send you on your way as quickly as possible.”
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Captain Ryan walked toward them, nodded to Sebastian, then ascended the first flight of stairs, stopping on the landing so everyone could see him. “Mr. Marks is correct. We are doing our best to take names and statements. Matter of fact, my officers have told me they are finished. Therefore, with the exception of Mr. Marks, Mr. Hunt, Miss Bancroft, and Miss O’Connell, all of you may leave.”
Seconds later, the heavy front doors opened and the crowd exited.
A woman approached Mr. Marks. “Excuse me, sir. What would you be needin’ us to do?”
“You head on home as well, Gretchen.” Raising his voice, he said, “All of my employees may leave. Stay home until further notice.”
After a few wary looks at him, more people left. Soon, only a handful of uniformed officers, Lieutenant Howard, Captain Ryan, Mr. Hunt and Bridget, the medical examiner, Mr. Marks and herself—and the body of Jason Avondale—were left in the room. Lydia averted her eyes when the medical examiner looked as if he were about to begin preparing Jason’s body for transport.
Mr. Hunt and Bridget approached. “Sir, would you be wanting me to escort Miss Bancroft home now?” Bridget asked.
“I’m afraid I will have to answer that one, miss,” Captain Ryan said. He inhaled. “We’ll be needin’ the four of you to stay for more questioning.”
“Why is that?” Mr. Marks asked.
“As far as we can surmise from our preliminary inquiries, especially after talking at length with Mr. Galvin, each of you had a reason to possibly wish Mr. Avondale dead. And because the medical examiner here said he died from multiple stab wounds, some shallow enough to have been delivered by a woman, all of you are suspects.”
“No!” Lydia said in a panic. “No! I was asleep.”
“We will still need to talk with you privately, Miss Bancroft,” Lieutenant Howard said.
“But this isn’t right.” She turned to Sebastian. “Sebastian, can’t we try to explain to them what we were doing?”
“I’m afraid we need to follow their orders, dear. Don’t worry.”
“But—”
“I’ll be okay, Miss Bancroft,” Bridget said. “You will be too.”
Lydia felt a cold chill trickle up her spine as she glanced from Sebastian to Bridget to Vincent Hunt.
What she saw on their faces made her wonder if Captain Ryan had been completely correct. Each of the three other people’s faces was devoid of emotion. Carefully blank.
And not a one of them attempted to deny Captain Ryan’s accusations. Not a single one.
For the first time since she’d woken from her faint, she was truly afraid. It seemed that as much as she’d thought she trusted Sebastian, Bridget, and Mr. Hunt, she really didn’t know them at all. She’d never thought to ask about their pasts or their reasons for working in such a disreputable part of the city.
That had been a very big mistake.
CHAPTER 20
After all the customers and the majority of his employees left, leaving only their small group standing around a dead body on the marble entryway, Sebastian Marks realized he hadn’t felt so helpless in a very long time.
It was as if the Lord written about in the Bible was offering retribution for every mistake and misdeed he’d ever committed. And he had done more things to be ashamed of than most people did in a lifetime.
The only thing keeping him on his feet was the verse he’d memorized from Psalm 86. In the day of my trouble I will call upon thee: for thou wilt answer me.
Perhaps God was attempting to answer his calls right now.
He could only hope.
“Mr. Marks,” Captain Ryan began, “we can either interview the four of you down at the station or in separate rooms here. The choice is up to you.”
“I’m surprised you can offer such a choice with a straight face.”
The captain’s expression hardened. “I know where you grew up, Marks, and it weren’t too far from me. You’d best think again before you go about putting on airs.”
“I would think of doing nothing of the kind.” After glancing at Lydia and his two employees, he turned back to Sean Ryan. “I cannot speak for the others in this instance, though it is my preference, of course, that we all remain here.”
“Sebastian?” Lydia whispered.
His heart hammered in his chest as he fought to remain unaffected by her fear. “Miss Bancroft, the choice is up to you. You will have more privacy here, but you might feel better at the station.”
“Where will you be?”
“I will be wherever you would like me to be,” he replied, realizing that he meant that in so many ways.
“I think I’ll stay here then. With you.”
Captain Ryan stared at Lydia for a moment before turning to Bridget and Vincent. “What are your preferences?”
“I’ll stay here, sir,” Bridget said.
Hunt nodded. “I will as well.”
“Now that that is settled, please come with me, Miss Bancroft,” said Lieutenant Howard.
Sebastian stepped forward. “Where are you taking her?”
“To one of the private rooms downstairs.”
“I would like to be near her.”
Howard glared. “I will only remind you of this once, sir. This is police business. You are no longer in charge.”
The idea of giving over his authority in his own club chafed him something awful. Only knowing that Lydia had absolutely nothing to do with club business or Avondale’s dealings and his murder allowed him to nod. “I understand.”
“Miss Bancroft, may we begin now?” Howard asked. “The sooner we get started, the sooner you may go home.”
With a swirl of her skirts, Lydia slowly followed the lieutenant down the short flight of stairs. In short order, two uniformed officers escorted Vincent and Bridget to two separate rooms on the second floor.
Only then did Captain Ryan speak. “Where would you like to do this? Here or in your office?”
“It makes no difference to me. As your lieutenant pointed out, I am not in control.”
“Let’s go to your office then.”
Sebastian followed him up, unconsciously straining to hear conversations from Bridget or Hunt. But of course no sound filtered through. His building was nothing if not well built.
When they entered his office, Sebastian motioned to the chairs. “Care for a cigar, Captain?”
“Thank you, no.”
He sat down. “Very well. Now, how may I help you?”
“Tell me about your relationship with Lydia Bancroft.”
“Surely that isn’t any of your concern.”
“Don’t be naïve,” he retorted sharply. “Everything in your life is now my concern.” Pulling out a small notebook, he said, “Now, please answer my question. What is the exact nature of your relationship with Lydia Bancroft?”
“I am Miss Bancroft’s friend.”
“Nothing more?”
“Of course not.”
“Oh? Somehow, out of thin air, a bluestocking librarian and the owner of one of the city’s most notorious gambling institutions have struck up a new friendship?” Sarcasm laced every word. “Forgive me, but the two of you seem like an odd pairing.”
“You are right. We are. However, I believe you also know what it’s like to befriend a woman who is far better than you.”
Ryan shifted. “Touché,” he murmured.
“Sounds as if I’m not the only person in this room intent on bettering himself.”
“This is true.” Ryan’s eyes glittered. “However, you are the only person in this room who is suspected of murder.”
Seeing that he was not about to gain the upper hand anytime soon, Sebastian relented. “I have spent most of the past year visiting Miss Bancroft’s lending library in the afternoons.”
“Because?”
“Because I like to read, Captain. I am also fond of libraries. Like you, I did not have a great many books in my home growing up.”
Ryan raised his eyebrows. “If you
had a real house, you had more than I did.”
“I had the floor next to wherever my mother was plying her trade.”
“Difficult.”
It had been worse than that. “I learned to use my fists at a young age. Eventually, I learned that the smarter a man was, the better his life was. And that is how I discovered the library.”
The policeman’s expression was far more somber now. “Which brings us full circle.”
Sebastian had no desire to continue down this road of bad memories, but he was willing to do whatever it took to walk out of his club—and to ensure Lydia did as well.
“You are right. I started visiting the library again for the books, and then because I admired Miss Bancroft. I thought she was pretty. I liked the way she always had her nose in a book. I liked the way she constantly adjusted her glasses and genuinely was delighted when new patrons asked for library cards. I liked the way she seemed to forget that a real world existed beyond her library’s walls.”
“She meant something to you.”
“I didn’t know her. Rather, I was intrigued by her.”
“And then?”
“And then one day I saw Avondale mistreat her in the lobby of my hotel.”
“You are referring to the Hartman.” Ryan looked up from his leather-bound notebook. “Your home.”
“It is where I keep my clothes and sleep.” He’d never had a home.
“So, that afternoon when you witnessed this mistreatment . . . What did you see Avondale do?”
Sebastian noticed that the captain had not yet written a single word. He wondered if the man already knew the answers to the questions he was asking or if he merely had an excellent memory. “They were arguing. When she did not comply with his wishes, he grabbed her wrist. Bruised her.”
“What were they arguing about?”
“Me.”
“Because?”
“Because though we’d never spoken to each other, she recognized me.”
“So Avondale was jealous of your relationship?”
“We had no relationship at that time.” He hesitated, debated whether to mention the debts, but then decided to be completely honest. “If I were to guess, I would say that Avondale disliked running into me more because he owed the Silver Grotto money than because of my having any association with his fiancée.” Actually, Sebastian had known that had been the reason Avondale had looked so nervous. Sebastian had been happy to cultivate that nervousness too.
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