by Emily Queen
Already too late to stop the swinging arm, Max jumped in front and took the blow on his upraised forearm. There was a sickening crunch as the bone broke under the force.
With a triumphant grin, the hired muscle raised the club a third time and made to swing.
Thunder rolled through the room as a gunshot rang out. Bits of ceiling rained down over Wadsworth who calmly lowered the pistol and aimed it carefully at the ringleader.
“That will be quite enough.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Friday morning’s paper was received with far more fanfare than the delivery boy had ever seen. Four people waited on the front stoop of Number 8 Park Road and practically snatched it out of his hands. He meandered off down the street, shaking his head, wondering why adults so often displayed the oddest behavior.
“Ah-ha!” Rosemary exclaimed when she was through scanning the headline. For once, and for good reason, Nathan Grint had done the job he was supposed to do and reported the truth.
“Chief Inspector Crowley gets the ax,” she read aloud. “London police Chief inspector Benjamin Crowley was fired Thursday afternoon when he couldn’t discount the claim that he had been taking bribes from several underground gambling establishments. His position will be filled by Inspector Maximilian Whittington, who was injured during a dust-up Wednesday night at an illegal betting house. Chief Inspector Crowley is also accused of slander against London dentist Martin Redberry, who was recently involved in the murder investigation of one Claude Segal—a crime for which he was acquitted—in addition to several acts of conspiracy and fraud. The case against Crowley is under investigation by the CID.”
“It seems Vera may have been incorrect when she accused you of contributing only lightly to this investigation,” Rosemary said to Frederick, her twinkling eyes sliding to the woman in question.
“He has his moments,” was all Vera would say on the subject, but Frederick grinned from ear-to-ear. The two hadn’t made eye contact since their encounter at the betting house, and both Rosemary and Desmond suspected they were in for an interesting holiday given the circumstances.
When Max arrived, he found the foursome, plus Martin and Abigail, ensconced in the dining room, enjoying a long brunch. He did a double take when he noticed that Wadsworth occupied the seat at the head of the table, an unprecedented grin on his wrinkled face.
“I see you’ve dispensed with formality this morning, Rosemary,” he said, showing himself to the table.
“Max!” she cried and rose to help him to a seat, taking care not to bump the cast that covered his injured arm. “Are you all right?” she looked into his eyes with such concern for his wellbeing that he had a hard time responding.
“I’m just fine, Rose. Couldn’t be better, actually. It seems things have worked out better than I could have imagined. I have the lot of you to thank for that. Unofficially, of course, considering my new position.” Max positively beamed with pride. “I get to stay in London, and we’ve successfully eradicated the top offender on the force.”
Rosemary couldn’t deny that the idea of Max remaining in London had been a large portion of her motivation for exposing the betting house and the officers who didn’t bother to abide by the law themselves. She felt as though nothing could shake her spirits now, and looked around the table at her friends, feeling grateful and at peace.
***
“You invited him to Cyprus?” Vera asked incredulously when she and Rose were alone that evening, watching Anna finish up the last of the packing. The poor girl had performed the task several times by this point and had waved away the offers of assistance that Vera and Rose extended. It seemed she was feeling grateful now that her tooth had ceased throbbing and her face had shrunk back to its normal shape.
“Yes, Vera, I invited him. The poor man has a broken arm because of me. He’s been given a few weeks of leave, so why not take advantage of it? Not that it matters; he declined. His mother arrives today for a short visit before she relocates permanently, and he’s busy overseeing the work being done on her flat. It’s all for the best.”
Vera raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”
“Miss,” Anna interrupted, wringing her hands and appearing very much like a sad puppy dog, “I can’t seem to find your sapphire pendant. I’ve looked just everywhere for it, and it’s nowhere to be found.”
Rosemary felt her heart drop into her shoes. If she lost that necklace, she would never be able to forgive herself.
“It’s always best to think back to the last time you had it,” Vera commented lazily. “Things always turn up, and usually in the most unexpected places.”
“That’s because you leave your things lying around,” Rosemary said, a bit more harshly than she usually spoke to her best friend. “I’m sorry, but that necklace is priceless to me.”
“I’m sorry, Rose, really. What can we do?”
“I know I had it on the night we went to the theater—oh, my goodness, I know what happened,” Rosemary exclaimed, plopping back down on the bed. “It fell out of my handbag when that director man ran into me. There’s no way someone hasn’t found it and claimed it by now.” Tears sprang to her eyes and threatened to ruin her makeup.
Vera immediately switched into problem-solving mode. “We’ll go back and check. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
“You’re not even allowed back in the building, remember?” Rose said, defeated.
“And since when did we let something like that stop us?” Vera retorted. “Get up off your rear end and stop feeling sorry for yourself. We’ll find it.”
She was right, and Rosemary knew it. “all right. But how do you propose we get inside?”
“We buy a ticket, Rose,” Vera said as if it were the most obvious solution. Which, it sort of was, once Rose thought about it.
***
The pair arrived outside the Globe Theater just before the first curtain call. Vera pulled Rosemary around the far side of the building, yanking on her arm so hard Rose thought it might come clear out of the socket.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed, shaking Vera off and glaring at her. “What’s the rush?”
Vera declined to answer, instead grabbing a scruffy-looking kid by the back of his jacket and spinning him around to face her. “Two tickets, now,” she demanded before he fully realized what was happening.
“Okay, okay. Didn’t need to manhandle me, did ya?” he whined.
“Probably not, but it was fun,” Vera retorted, exchanging money for tickets and letting the young hawker loose. “I hate to stoop this low, but we’re running out of time,” she said to Rose once he’d disappeared down the block. She mumbled something about hawkers driving up ticket prices, which Rosemary ignored.
Tickets in hand, they entered and started to make a beeline for the door Vera indicated would deposit them closest to the backstage area.
“Rose?” she would have recognized the voice even in a crowd and whirled around to face Max, who wasn’t alone. Dressed in a well-fitting suit and tie, he looked so handsome Rosemary’s throat went dry as desert sand. A hand was clasped around his good arm, and when Rosemary tore her eyes from his face, she realized with a start that Max was accompanied by a date.
“Max!” she squeaked, sliding her eyes sideways towards the woman and pasting a smile on her face. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Nor I you. Please, Rosemary, meet my mother, Ariadne Whittington. Mother, this is Rosemary Lillywhite.”
Rose would have almost preferred if Max’s companion had been an actual date; it would have been far less awkward than meeting his mother with absolutely zero advance notice.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Mrs. Whittington said, making no effort to reach for Rosemary’s hand. Never in her life had Rose felt so uncomfortable, as though she were being judged and found wanting. “I do thank you for your contribution to my new flat, although the wallpaper is a touch too feminine for my tastes.” The woman had mastered the art of wrapping a subtle dig in
side a compliment.
“She’s being difficult,” Max said, his cheeks burning pink. “She couldn’t be happier, could you mother?”
“I’m not sure you want me to answer that question, dear,” Mrs. Whittington replied. “I’d like to be shown to my seat now. The show is about to go on, and it’s abhorrently rude to enter once the lights have gone out.”
Max shot an apologetic look at Rosemary before leading his mother into the theater. “Have a lovely time in Cyprus, Rose,” he tossed over his shoulder.
All Rosemary could do was stare after them, and it took several seconds for Vera to rouse her. Once again, Rose felt herself being pulled along behind her friend. They made it to the backstage area without attracting attention, since all eyes were focused on the stage.
“Here’s where you dropped your handbag,” Vera said, taking a look around to ensure nobody was watching them before kneeling onto the floor to search for the missing necklace.
“I don’t see it anywhere,” Rosemary lamented, plopping down on her backside. A rustle of curtain and a few thumping steps later, just when Rose thought they were about to get caught, Vera’s friend Samuel came bustling into the hallway.
“Vera, dear, what are you doing here?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
After a short explanation, Samuel smiled and beckoned them over to his station. “Is this what you’re looking for?” he asked, holding up the beloved sapphire necklace.
Rosemary could hardly believe her good fortune and fastened it back around her neck, making a silent vow to send a donation to the actors guild the second she returned from holiday. “You have no idea what this means to me. Thank you,” she said graciously.
“Think nothing of it, dear, but please, you two, leave me now,” he chided. “I have to be in full makeup for my next scene.”
With a nod of understanding, Vera kissed him on the cheek, and the pair retreated back into the theater just in time to hear Jennie Bryer’s Titania bickering with Oberon. “These are the forgeries of jealousy…” she recited, berating the faerie king for his part in the destruction of the mortal world.
As Vera watched with bated breath, the words took on a whole new meaning. It had been jealousy that drove her hatred towards Jennie, and suddenly she realized she had been acting like a spoiled child.
Rosemary raised an eyebrow as she watched, but said nothing.
“Hell, she’s not so bad, is she?” Vera said, winking at Rosemary and then sashaying up the aisle with a spring in her step.
The end
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Other Books by Emily Queen
Books in the Mrs. Lillywhite Investigates series:
Book 1: The Case at Barton Manor
Book 2: The Murder Next Door
Book 3: Death on the Isle of Love