I was about to place the packet in his waiting hand, but I paused. “You said, ‘I can have it tested.’ Surely you meant, ‘We’ll have it tested’?” I wanted some assurance that he wouldn’t leave me out of the loop.
“Certainly,” he said. “Scout’s honor.”
Once again, I placed my trust in Redvers’ hands, giving over the wrapped packet without further question.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Millie came back through the bar before we retired for the evening. She waved a hand at me to indicate she had seen us, but stopped for a drink before heading our way. Her shoulders were stooped with exhaustion, and worry still creased her round face.
“How’s Lillian doing, Aunt Millie?”
Millie heaved a sigh. “She’s sleeping now, but a little color seems to have returned to her face. We’ll know more in the morning. Dr. Williams thinks she’ll be just fine.” She took a long belt of her drink, drawing fortification from the straight whiskey in her glass.
I touched her arm. “This must be terrible for you. I know how close you’ve grown to her.”
Redvers nodded his sympathy.
Millie drew herself up a bit, pulling herself from my touch. “She’ll pull through. She’s made of stern stuff.” She seemed to want to say something more, then changed her mind. “I’ll head back there in a few minutes. Marie wanted to take her turn keeping watch.”
I nodded. I doubted either of them would sleep in their own beds that night.
“I nearly forgot, Jane. Do you have a dress for the costume party Friday night?”
Millie’s complete change of direction stunned me. I stared dumbly at her for a moment, not fully understanding the question.
“Costume party?”
“Yes, a costume party,” Millie said impatiently. “There aren’t masks and such like we would have at home, but we dress in clothing like the native Egyptians wear. They actually wear some beautifully embroidered pieces.” She paused for a moment. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure why they call it a “costume” party. But it hardly matters. A party is a party.”
Clearing my throat, I searched the cupboards of my mind, poking around misplaced thoughts, but came up with an absolute blank regarding costumes and parties.
“I . . . I just don’t recall hearing about it, Aunt Millie.”
Millie sighed. “Jane, what will we do with you?”
I assumed the question was rhetorical.
“Providing Lillian continues to improve, I’ll take you to find an outfit myself.”
I was surprised Millie was so enthusiastic about a costume party, but then she turned to Redvers.
“And you’ll escort our Jane, won’t you, Mr. Redvers?” Millie flashed him a smile that was supposed to be winning, but looked an awful lot like a shark bearing down on its lunch.
I should have known she had an ulterior motive. I rolled my eyes, which Millie missed since she was busy pinning Redvers to the spot.
He cleared his throat and shot me an amused look. “It would be my pleasure, of course.”
I was secretly pleased that he had agreed, even though my aunt had basically strong-armed him into it. But I didn’t think it was an appropriate time to attend a party—what with a murder looming over us, and Lillian so unwell.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea . . .”
Redvers continued as though I hadn’t spoken. “I believe some of the local dress suppliers come directly to the hotel.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and he shrugged. He was not helping me make my case.
Millie beamed up at Redvers. “Excellent suggestion. That’s even better—we won’t have to leave Lillian here alone. I’ll make the arrangements for everything, Jane.” Millie turned to me, and her smile dropped. “And now I will head back to Lillian. I don’t want her to wake up and think I’ve abandoned her.” She downed the rest of her drink, handed me her empty glass, and bustled away.
Redvers cut his eyes to me. I sighed.
“I do apologize. Don’t you wish to attend?” He didn’t sound at all sorry, and I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Not particularly.” The prospect of dancing made me shudder. I wondered if there was a way for me to avoid the whole spectacle. Perhaps I could twist an ankle. I brightened at the thought. Turning to Redvers, I saw that he was thoughtfully gazing where my aunt had disappeared.
“What are you thinking?”
Dark brown eyes met mine. “Your aunt . . .” He trailed off.
I knew exactly what he was referring to. “I know.” I frowned. “Millie is so attached to Lillian, who is a virtual stranger, as far as I know. I haven’t been able to learn any more about it. I’ve never seen her like this.”
I felt a pang of guilt. Millie’s preoccupation with Lillian during this trip had left me to my own devices. I was enjoying both my liberation and the benefit of steering clear of Millie’s ever-sharp tongue. Well, mostly clear of it.
I thought back to Millie’s reaction to Amon. “In fact, Millie has been acting strangely since we arrived. I’ve caught her glaring at Mr. Samara more than a handful of times. And when I ask her about him, she gets very defensive and refuses to answer my questions. I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Perhaps she fell victim to one of his . . . schemes. His specialty is preying on wealthy older women,” Redvers said. “Especially those without the burden of a husband.”
“I’ll admit, his being a fortune hunter has been on my mind. But Mr. Samara . . . scheming . . . with my aunt? That is not a picture I want to carry in my head.”
Redvers laughed, and the low timbre rumbled pleasantly through my chest.
As though we had conjured the Devil himself, Samara came into the saloon through an intricately carved wooden door, sweeping his dark eyes over the room. He acknowledged the both of us with a gracious nod, but didn’t cross the room to us. Instead, he made his way to the bar and conferred with the bartender. Zaki, standing alone near the front of the room and attentively watching the interaction, now moved to the bar and joined the others. Their small conference lasted a few minutes.
Apparently satisfied, Amon smiled and retreated back the way he had come. Zaki and the bartender continued conferring for a moment before Zaki joined the man behind the bar. They began to quickly and efficiently load a tray with a variety of drinks.
“What’s through there?” I indicated the door Amon had passed through. I hadn’t noticed it before—there were so many beautifully carved wood panels throughout the area that the door blended rather well.
“That leads to the gaming room. They do quite a bit of high-stakes gambling in there.” Redvers cocked a brow. “Thinking of trying your hand?”
“Too rich for my blood.” I did not care to hand over my money for nothing in return. “But I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that Samara gambles. It fits the picture.”
“It does indeed.”
The door opened once more, and I saw a familiar face with a distinctive cowlick pop around the corner. My eyebrows shot up as Charlie glanced around the room, missing us entirely. When his eyes landed on Zaki moving toward him with a heavily laden drink tray, his eyes lit up. With a wide smile, Charlie held the door open as Zaki passed, pulling the door shut behind them both.
“So, that’s the room where Charlie has been disappearing to every night.” I remembered that part of Charlie’s stage act involved card tricks, and I wondered if that was in part how they were financing this trip—by working the card tables. “I wonder if Deanna is with him.”
“Most likely.” Redvers rubbed his ear thoughtfully. “I hope he’s not getting himself into trouble in there.” I wasn’t sure whether Redvers meant losing what money the couple had, or winning it with Charlie’s sleight of hand. Either was equally likely to lead to trouble.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully, which was a relief. I wasn’t sure how much more excitement I could stand on my “relaxing” vacation.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
&n
bsp; The next morning, I slept late—much later than I was used to sleeping. When I finally did crack open my eyes, I considered turning over again, but the sun was well and truly up and I decided I should be also. The mirror did me no favors as I splashed water on my face, and I considered hiding in my rooms for the day, simply for the chance to rest and think. It wouldn’t hurt to put a little distance between myself and Redvers either. I was beginning to rely too heavily on his companionship.
The pounding on my door shattered any hopes for a quiet day.
I threw on a light robe and answered it. Aunt Millie stood before me, bright and perky as a sunflower, fists on ample hips.
“Jane, I can’t believe you’re not out of bed yet! I thought for sure I would see you at breakfast. The dress people will be here very shortly. You’d best get yourself ready and I’ll meet you downstairs on the terrace.”
I couldn’t do much more than nod weakly, then went back inside to wash thoroughly and dress. I couldn’t believe Millie was so . . . awake, since I assumed she was up much of the night with Lillian. If Millie was this upbeat, Lillian must be feeling much better this morning.
I stumbled downstairs and found my aunt waiting for me. Cheerfully. It was almost enough to send me straight back to my room.
“Jane, you look very tired today.” Millie’s powers of observation were as sharp as ever.
“How is it that you don’t?” I slumped into a chair beside her. “Do I have time for breakfast?” My mouth cracked into such a wide yawn I could barely cover it.
“Probably not a proper meal—you slept very late, Jane—but I’m sure some coffee can be arranged for you while we wait.” She popped up and went to the desk, where I assumed she bullied the young man into obtaining coffee from the breakfast room. For once, I didn’t mind her heavy-handed methods.
“That’s all arranged.”
I smiled at her gratefully. “Thank you, Aunt Millie.” I yawned again. “And how is Lillian doing?”
“Lillian is feeling much better this morning, although she and Marie will be keeping quiet in Lillian’s room today. One really can’t be too careful. I’ll check in on them when we are through here.”
By the time my coffee had arrived, the dressmaker had also arrived and set up in a parlor off the hotel lobby. We were not the only guests who would be taking advantage of her services, but Millie had convinced her to come earlier in the morning to accommodate our appointment. We greeted the young woman at the parlor entrance and she introduced herself as Nenet.
“Welcome.” Nenet’s dark eyes sparkled as she closed the door behind us. Her long black hair was thick with natural wave and she let it hang loose down her back. She was a striking woman. “I’m so pleased you were referred to my shop. I brought a great deal of inventory from my store, so I am sure we can find you both something very suitable.” The proprietary way she referred to the store led me to believe that Nenet herself was the owner. I was impressed that a woman close to my age was running her own business in this country.
“How did you get it all here?” I gazed around the room in wonder. Every surface was covered with dresses—tables and chairs had become an explosion of color and texture.
Nenet laughed. “I have many cousins and uncles, and they help load my cart. I have an arrangement with the hotel when they have events, and so my family is accustomed to moving my dresses.”
The selection was overwhelming, and for a time, I simply stood near the doorway and took it all in. Millie waded right into the confusion. Before long, she had an armful of dresses and was headed for the changing screen set up in a far corner of the room.
“I’ll just make sure one of these fits me, Jane, and then I’ll help you pick out something suitable.” Millie’s voice came from behind the ornately decorated wooden screen. It would be interesting to see what my aunt’s idea of suitable would be.
The young dressmaker touched my arm and led me farther into the room. She sized me up and silently began plucking dresses from the many piles—she obviously knew her stock and where it was located. A small miracle.
“Ah!” Millie’s voice was unmistakably pleased. “This one will be just fine.” She came out from behind the screen and I smiled. It suited her. The long blue robe was notched at the top with rich geometric embroidery in silver thread decorating the neckline and the front of the robe. The slightly bell-shaped sleeves had matching embroidery at the cuffs.
“This galabieh is a good fit for you.” Nenet nodded in approval. “There is a matching scarf for the head.”
“I will not need the head scarf.” After another trip behind the screen, Millie reemerged with the blue galabieh folded in her hands. She passed over the discarded dresses.
“Perhaps just take it with you. You might change your mind.” Nenet added the scarf to her pile.
Millie smoothed her slightly mussed hair, and it was my turn. I moved behind the screen and removed my blouse and skirt, grabbing the first of the dresses Nenet had chosen for me. The first wouldn’t fit over my hips at all, and I immediately discarded it. I had the same trouble with the second, and put that one aside as well. Picking up on the common problem with the discarded dresses, Nenet came around the screen with a different style in her hands. As I prepared to slide the new dress over my head, I heard Nenet gasp behind my back and I turned, eyes wide and shaking my head sharply.
She had seen the scars.
“Is everything okay?” Millie’s voice carried over the screen. Her view was blessedly blocked.
“Perfectly fine,” I called. “I just stubbed my toe on the corner here.” My hazel eyes locked with Nenet’s dark ones, and she nodded.
My lower back and rear were crisscrossed with long white ridges, reminders of my late husband’s unnatural relationship with pain. This particular map was created with a leather riding crop he had been particularly fond of. I was fortunate he had kept his strikes low—I was still able to wear most clothing without displaying my shame. I clearly recalled the first time he had turned the whip on me—only two months after our honeymoon. By then, I was already flinching from his fists, but the whip took matters to another level. I’d tried to run immediately after, but didn’t make it far before Grant found me and dragged me back—and my punishment had laid me up for more than a week. He promised that he would always find me, and not only would I pay, but so would anyone who dared help me. I believed him when he said he would kill me if I left—I also believed he would kill me if I stayed.
In retrospect, it was unnerving how easily he culled me from the herd and isolated me under the guise of “wanting me to himself.” Anyone who might have offered me refuge was told that I was in the countryside for my poor health. Even my beloved father believed the charming lies my husband put to paper, and any acquaintances I had before my marriage faded away once Grant started refusing contact with anyone from my life before. The money I brought into the marriage, Grant merged into the household accounts with a few well-placed signatures. He then ensured I never had access to more than a few coins—not nearly enough to make an escape with. I shivered as I recalled that my only plan had been to endure things until I could filch enough money from the household to change my name and disappear for good. Sadly, the war had been a blessing to me. Grant had signed up almost immediately—he relished the idea of making his presence known on the battlefield.
To her credit, Nenet recovered quickly and helped me with the dress she had chosen. It was a very different style than the loose robe Millie was wearing.
“This is a traditional dress for dance,” Nenet told me once I had it on.
“But I don’t dance,” I started to say, but she waved a hand and laughed.
“Do not worry. This is the dress for you. Dance or no dance. It brings out the green in your eyes.” She nodded with satisfaction.
It was a deep emerald green, with two thin shoulder straps—one across my collarbone, and another along the top of my shoulder. Gold embroidery adorned the straps, working down the bodice th
at fitted my top like a glove. The waist sleeked down my hips and the skirt had a chiffon overlay covered with small gold coins. The effect was both exotic and sensual. Nenet wrapped a gauzy green scarf with matching gold coins around my head and shooed me from behind the screen.
Mille drew in a breath. “Jane. That is simply stunning.” I glowed at the compliment—they were few and far between from my aunt. “You really must have it.” She turned to Nenet. “We’ll take it.”
“It’s too much, Aunt Millie. I really don’t need something this extravagant.”
Millie patted my shoulder. “I insist. It will be my treat.” She nodded to Nenet, who positively beamed, and I disappeared back around the screen.
Once I was wearing my own lightweight linen dress again, I brought the green dress around, and Nenet wrapped up our purchases.
“It will be a lovely souvenir, and a dress you can wear again,” Millie said.
I wasn’t sure that I would find an occasion to wear it again, but for the first time since Millie had mentioned the costume party, I found myself looking forward to the event.
“Besides . . .” Millie gave me a smug smile. “I’m sure your Mr. Redvers will love it.”
I gave a small shake of my head.
“He’s not my Mr. Redvers,” I mumbled, but she ignored me.
There would be no arguing with her on the topic of Redvers—I would never be able to convince my aunt that I was not interested in remarrying, and her not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking were a waste of everyone’s time. It didn’t help that I was spending so much time with the man. It was surely giving my aunt the wrong impression, but I didn’t think she would be keen to learn that we were trying to smoke out a murderer, either. My relationship with Redvers might be friendly, but it was still strictly business.
The business of solving a murder.
As we parted from Nenet, I let my aunt take the lead and I turned back to give Nenet another look of thanks. She smiled and nodded in return. Catching up with Millie in three long strides, I said a small prayer that disaster had been avoided—the last thing I wanted was for Millie to start asking questions about my scars. It could only lead to an unwanted conversation about her late nephew, the sadist I had been married to.
Murder at the Mena House Page 13