Jesse poked his head into the room, making me wonder if he had been listening in and waiting for us to reach a conclusion before interrupting. “It’s time.”
Derrick calmly walked out of the kitchen before I could say good-bye to him; before I could convey any message, even the silent one pressing against my heart. But when Jesse also turned to leave, I stopped him.
“Let your men take Derrick in. We have important business elsewhere.”
“You realize this only makes him look guiltier.” Jesse held my hand and helped me down into the U.S. Life-Saving Service boat, a small, two-sailed steamer.
I nodded. “I believe that’s why he didn’t say good-bye when your men took him away. If his sister gave birth to Virgil Monroe’s child, Derrick would certainly have a motive to commit murder.”
“Not once, but all three times, Emma. The first out of revenge, the other two to silence the people who knew his sister’s secret.”
“You don’t need to elaborate. I’m well aware of the implications. He’s innocent.” I turned my head to look out over the water as we pushed away from Long Wharf.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“If it were me, would you have this kind of faith in my innocence?”
My answer came without hesitation. “Of course I would. Some things you can know without a shred of evidence.”
We cleared the other boats moored along the wharf. “The more truth that comes to light,” I said, “the closer we come to finding the real killer. Or killers.”
Jesse frowned. “Plural?”
“I don’t know . . . I’m still not convinced Virgil is dead. With everything that’s happened, he has the most motive to have killed Naomi.” I shivered. “He probably would have killed me, too, if Brady and Marianne hadn’t come running. It’s possible he didn’t realize they were with me.”
“You’re talking as if it’s a foregone conclusion that Virgil Monroe is responsible for all of this.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “In a way, alive or dead, he is responsible.”
Suddenly I no longer had Jesse’s attention. He had shifted on his seat across from me. Face raised, he inhaled. “Do you smell smoke?”
I sniffed the air. “No.”
Jesse glanced at the pilot, who shook his head.
“It’s probably coming from one of the dockside taverns,” I suggested. “Someone is always burning something in those kitchens.”
Jesse only narrowed his eyes and continued to scent the air. “You must be right. I don’t smell it now.”
We were well out into the harbor by now, away from the many vessels crowded together along the wharves. Lavinia’s Sun rose up in front of us, three decks tall above the waterline and crowned by three masts and a rotund stack that released the steam when they relied on coal to power the ship. Except for lights shining behind the lower portholes, a dark stillness claimed the vessel.
“I think you should wait here.” Jesse carefully came to his feet as the pilot pulled alongside the hull.
“And how do you think Mrs. Andrews and her daughter will react to a man boarding their ship unannounced, and in the dark no less? From the looks of things, they’ve already retired for the night.”
He paused, making a wry face. “All right. But at the first sign of danger I want you to make your way back here.”
“What danger? Judith Kingsley’s temper is volatile, true, but even at her worst she didn’t threaten me with bodily harm. And when I explain to her why we’ve come, she’ll very likely—” I broke off, inhaling. I couldn’t be certain, but a sharpness in the air stung my nose. “Jesse, about that smoke you thought you smelled . . . I’m not sure, but . . .”
He handed me to my feet, and the two of us stood side by side, our heads raised. “Could also be a burnt pot roast down in the galley, or a loaf of bread.”
I nodded. The pilot lifted a reflective lantern from the deck of the boat. “We can’t take any chances. I’m going to signal the station to be at the ready.”
Jesse and I climbed the starboard steps to the mezzanine deck. Polished, flawless teak gleamed in the moonlight. At first all seemed secure, but then the thinnest of wisps curled about our noses. I muffled a sneeze in my hand.
“Emma, go back down to the boat.”
“It could still be something burning in the galley. But to be safe we need to warn everyone on board.”
Jesse nodded and leaned down over the side to attract the pilot’s attention. “Sound the alarm. Better safe than sorry.”
A second later a sharp clanging rose from the water.
“If there is a fire it’s most likely below,” Jesse said to me, raising his voice above the clamor. Already we heard shouts from the lower decks. “I’ll go down and help people out. You look for Mrs. Andrews and Mrs. Kingsley, and any servants who might be on the upper decks.”
I started to move away, but he caught my wrist. “Please be careful. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.” With that he pulled me into a hug. It lasted only an instant before he released me and started down the nearest set of steps.
I stood for a moment longer, dazed by the lingering phantasm of Jesse’s regard. Then another acrid wisp jarred me from my thoughts and set me in motion. I tried to remember what little layout of the ship I’d observed on my first visit here. Were the staterooms on this level, as they were on Uncle William’s yacht? With no hints in the form of lighted windows to guide me, I chose the closest door, opened it, and discovered a library within. Empty, but for the books lining the shelves.
I moved on, finally reaching the aft saloon, where I had met Judith when I came to deliver Derrick’s message to her. The room lay dark and still, despite the disquieting memory of Judith’s violent tirade.
Judith’s violent tirade.
As I made my way around the stern, a new thought took hold. If Derrick had motive to commit murder, didn’t Judith as well? Perhaps even more so. Virgil had taken her child away from her. I wondered, could she have persuaded Wyatt to carry out her revenge on Robbie’s father—there was little love lost between the brothers—and then killed him, and Naomi, to protect her secret?
If she witnessed Naomi talking to me, then she would know where to find Robbie.
Icy fingers clutched my heart. Thank goodness I’d called Nanny to warn her of possible danger, and that Jesse had sent an officer out to protect the house.
I continued past the aft saloon, which stretched around to the port side, and shook my head at the jumble of theories I’d concocted. Daphne and Lawrence as Robbie’s parents. Virgil, still alive. Now Judith, a murderess. In truth I knew only two facts. That Virgil had hired Naomi and paid her to take Robbie away from his mother. All else was conjecture.
Finally, I came to another door. I tried turning the knob, but it moved only slightly before clicking to a stop. Locked, which meant someone must be inside. From around the ship the bell continued clanging. Below me, on the lower decks, came the sounds of voices, tramping feet, and fists knocking on doors. I heard no indication of rising panic, merely an ordered procession as the staff and crew prepared to disembark if the need arose. Perhaps they were assisting Jesse in the search for fire. From this side of the ship I could no longer see the shore, but search beams skimmed the waves out beyond both stem and stern. Other U.S. Life-Saving Service vessels must be arriving. And a good thing, too. The smell of smoke was stronger here, and I thought I detected sooty tendrils rising out over the water from somewhere below me.
I pounded on the door. “Open up! There’s an emergency! You must leave the ship!”
The door opened immediately, and Mrs. Andrews stood in a dressing gown buttoned to her chin. “What on earth is all that clanking about? Is there a fire?” Her beautiful features were taut with alarm, but then alarm melted into anger. “Miss Cross, is it? Is this your idea of a joke?”
“Mrs. Andrews, you must come at once. There may indeed be a fire on board.”
“Where is my ship’s captain? M
y lady’s maid? Why haven’t they come to assist me?” She pressed her hands over her ears. “Make them silence that infernal bell. Oh, if you don’t go away at once I’ll scream for help.”
“Scream all you want, but you must come with me now.” With the greatest difficulty I tamped down my growing impatience. “Mrs. Andrews, can you conceive of a single reason why I would have rowed out to this yacht at what by now must be near the middle of the night merely to vex you?”
After a hesitation she stepped out onto the deck and sniffed the air. “Good heavens, you aren’t lying! Where is it coming from?”
“I don’t know. Please, Mrs. Andrews, you must come with me. There are boats waiting to take you away from here.”
“I need to dress first. I’ll ring for my maid. . . .”
I bit back a roar of frustration. “Mrs. Andrews, with any luck your maid has already left the ship.”
“Without me?”
“Detective Whyte of the Newport Police would have insisted she, and all the other staff, leave at once. As you must do.”
To forestall any further argument, I put aside all pretense of deference and seized her wrist. “We are going. Now.”
Her cries filled my ears, but I didn’t listen as I half dragged, half pulled her back around the aft saloon to the starboard side of the vessel. The bell clanged louder here, but once again I noted the air on this side seemed fresher, lighter. I no longer doubted the presence of fire, or that it originated on the port side. But how much longer would it be contained there?
Below us, staff members were swinging themselves from the lower decks onto the outer steps that led down to the water, where three Life-Saving Service cutters were slowly filling with individuals, some in their various uniforms, others in wrappers and nightshirts. Mrs. Andrews and I had nearly reached the steps when she tugged for all she was worth, surprising me with her strength and yanking free of my hold.
She backed away, her beautiful features twisted and bordering on feral. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said?”
In truth, I hadn’t.
“I’m not going anywhere without my daughter. She’s on the deck below us.” With that, she turned toward the inner staircase.
I bolted forward and headed her off. “Mrs. Andrews, please go down to the rescue boats. I’ll find your daughter.” She was shaking her head at me, so I added, “I can move faster than you.”
The staircase vibrated with footsteps, and a moment later Jesse emerged from the darkness below. “Emma, Mrs. Andrews, come. I believe we’ve almost got everyone off.”
“Did you find Mrs. Kingsley?” I asked at the same time Mrs. Andrews shouted her daughter’s name. She reached out to press a hand to the wall behind her.
“She hasn’t been found yet. I’ll keep looking.”
“Oh, my daughter . . .” Mrs. Andrews’s knees gave way beneath her and she slid down the wall to the deck.
“Jesse, take her—get her off the boat. I’ll find Judith.”
“No, Emma—”
“Please, just do it,” I shouted. “I can’t help her down the steps, I’m not strong enough to support her and we could both end up falling.” I crouched and brought my face close to the sobbing woman’s. “Mrs. Andrews, which cabin is Judith’s?”
“Judith . . .” She fell into a fit of coughing, brought on more by her agitation, I judged, than by the presence of smoke. Just as I was about to take my chances and blindly search for her daughter, she recovered. “Port side, just below mine. Hurry. Please.”
I bounded down the staircase. At the next level down I made for the stern and hurried around. Unlike the entirely open walkway of the mezzanine deck, the stern here was an enclosed, curving corridor, only open at its two ends. Smoke drifted in gauzy clouds, barely visible, yet my eyes and throat began to sting. I slowed long enough to struggle out of my carriage jacket and use it to cover my nose and mouth. Moments later I passed through a doorway and emerged to the open walkway on the port side and the relief of the harbor breeze.
Flickering radiance poured from the windows of the first cabin I came to. Instinctively I swerved to the railing, as far away from the glass as possible. In intense heat the panes would shatter. Yet I tried to peer in through gaps in the smoldering curtains. Was Judith inside? Was this her cabin? The door stood slightly ajar, the frame splintered as if it had been kicked in. Whirling smoke streamed through, pooling at my feet. Fearfully, I move closer to the door.
“Mrs. Kingsley? Are you in there?”
A scream from another cabin farther on carried on the breeze to dissipate over the water. I broke into a run.
Chapter 17
I came to the cabin directly below Mrs. Andrews’s. Another scream echoed inside. Was Judith trapped by flames? Did her room connect to the one I had passed? Before moving to the door, I peered at the windows, covered by heavy curtains. Some kind of light emanated from within. Lamplight? Or flames?
I dropped my carriage jacket and gingerly reached for the door, tapping the knob with my fingertips first to test the metal. Still cool. Holding my breath, I gripped it thoroughly, and to my great relief the door offered no resistance. I shoved inward and crossed the threshold.
Two things registered in my mind immediately. Plumes of smoke spiraled toward the ceiling, and Judith stood pressed into the far corner of the cabin, wedged in by the wall on one side and her bed on the other. Small flames, newly set by the looks of them, leaped over the bedclothes, curling the edges and sizzling against the satin. In the few seconds I watched, licks of flame spiked up the walls above the draped headboard, quickly spreading to consume costly carved woodwork. I shouted to Judith, but her gaze didn’t find me. Her sights remained riveted on a spot directly in front of her, off to my left.
A man stood within the foggy vapors that swirled like a silver cape around him. He stretched out an arm to aim an accusing finger at Judith while his lips hurled obscenities at her.
My heart pounded violently. Virgil.
In his other hand, a lighted torch emitted streams of curling black soot. The odor of kerosene warred with charring wood and fabrics. I searched for a weapon, anything to knock Virgil down and allow Judith a path to the door. He stood between me and the hearth, where I might have snatched up the long-handled shovel or tongs. Then I saw it—an old-fashioned bed warmer, ornate silver with a long ebony handle, hanging on the wall behind him. I inched toward it.
In that instant, my movement must have caught Judith’s attention. Her eyes opened wider, but somehow she had the presence of mind not to give me away. Vigil was still shouting at her, still swearing and accusing. His exact words eluded me as the flames leaped to an area rug and then a tablecloth. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Virgil’s impassioned rage keeping him distracted one more moment.
My fingers closed around the ebony and silver inlaid handle, but the object didn’t simply lift away from the wall. Whoever had hung it had seen fit to secure it snugly. I had to tug, tug again, while the growing heat and smoke began to threaten my consciousness. I heard Judith coughing, but a quick look revealed her holding a trailing sleeve over her nose and mouth. Virgil waved his torch in front of her, his laughter and curses coming in shrieks like nails on a chalkboard.
I gave another heave, putting all my strength into it. The bed warmer ripped away from the wall, taking bits of paneling with it. Splinters flew like spittle into the air. One bounced against Virgil’s shoulder. He flinched and turned to find the source of the tiny assailant. I saw his face at the same time I swung the pan of the warmer into the side of his head. His knees buckled and he fell. It was then I had my first good look at him.
No lines marred the smoothness of youthful features. It wasn’t Virgil. It was Nate.
I had not a second to ponder this revelation. Instinct guided me over the sprawled body, a wide stride that almost compromised my balance and sent me stumbling into the flaming bed. By some miracle I remained upright and kept going until I was able to grasp Judith’s outstretch
ed hand.
The contact seemed to spark her into action, for I didn’t have to coax her to move as I’d done with her mother. Hand in hand we picked our way to the door, sidestepping a burning chair, smoldering pillows . . . and Nate Monroe’s prone form. The flames crept perilously close to him, and I looked back to see the edge of his coat ignite, victim of the torch he had used to start the fire.
Judith remained my first priority. She was coughing uncontrollably, nearly doubling over, and I could discern from the way she tightened her grip that she could no longer see where we were going. I took over. As we reached the door I wrapped an arm across her shoulders and, bent at the waist, we lunged for the railing. Here, at least, there was air to breathe, though smoke poured through the doorway after us. With a shove I started us moving again, following the railing down the length of the ship. Along the way we passed another smoldering cabin. Nate must have taken no chances. He had wished to send Lavinia’s Sun to a fiery hell, and Judith with it.
“Are there port-side steps leading down?” I shouted. Even if those steps led us to the water and nothing more, I deemed the harbor safer than the burning ship and I daren’t take the time to circle back to the starboard side.
Judith nodded and pointed. “That way.”
At the same time, a cry came from below. I peered down, searching the waves. “Oh, thank heavens.”
A cutter sat far below us, directing its searchlight at the port-side steps and guiding our way. Not far from it, a small skiff bobbed, dark and lonely in the waves. Nate’s transportation here? Farther out, a fireboat—a steam tug equipped with pumps and hoses—cut a wide berth as it turned to approach Lavinia’s Sun.
A figure made his way up the steps toward us, crablike in the darkness.
“Come,” I said. “Let’s start down.”
Judith didn’t need further coaxing. We opened the gate at the railing and more nimbly than I would have expected, she swung herself onto the top step and grabbed hold of the hemp banisters on either side. She didn’t hesitate in starting down, or in gathering her voice past her raw throat and calling hoarsely to the man climbing up to meet her. He shouted a reassurance in return. He carried a blanket, no doubt dampened with seawater, over his shoulder. In the event sparks began spewing from the boat, this would prevent us from being singed.
Murder at Beechwood Page 22