Beyond the Pale

by Sabrina Flynn

  “Katherine,” he said, closing the door with a click.

  A large, black hat perched on her Gibson Girl-styled hair. She had golden brown hair, green eyes, and ivory skin. Her pigeon silhouette was in high fashion: bosom pushed out, back arched—molded by the popular corsets that forced the body into that shape. Her fur-trimmed dress wasn’t store-bought, nor was anything on her person, including a large diamond brooch.

  “What on earth are you doing here, Lotario? I hardly recognized you.”

  Lotario gave a flippant gesture. “I like to dabble here and there. Gentleman detectives are all the rage in London.”

  “I see.” She put a hand to her breast. “I find this oddly reassuring. And you must be Mrs. Riot.”

  “Miss Amsel will do.”

  Katherine looked at the twins. They were dressed differently enough that their resemblance was not quite so striking. Lotario had his platform boots on as well (he did like to be tall) so they seemed more brother and sister than near-identical twins. The two didn’t like people to know how much alike they were in appearance.

  Lotario stepped forward to take her hands. “What has happened, Katherine?” he asked.

  Katherine gave a weak smile, then looked to Isobel. “Your brother knows… knew my Donny—” She lost her composure then, and Isobel quickly shoved the woman into a chair before she could faint.

  Isobel glanced at her twin in question. But all the blood had drained from his face. She shoved him into a chair, too. “What do you mean, knew?” Lotario whispered.

  “You haven’t heard?”

  Lotario had a white-knuckled grip on the armrests.

  “Of course you haven’t. I don’t think the Fuzzy Bunch knows yet.” Katherine met Lotario’s gaze. “Donny is dead.”

  “How?”

  Isobel could feel the single word tearing from her heart as if her twin’s shock were her own.

  “I was told he died in bed, at home. His father found him Wednesday morning.”

  Isobel glanced at Lotario. His face was austere, but his hands trembled. “I’m getting half a story here, Miss Hayes. What was Donny’s name? And what was he to you?”

  “Oh,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “I thought the entire city knew.”

  “I’ve been… occupied.”

  “Donny and I were engaged to be married. I was to be Dominic Noble’s wife.”

  Isobel arched a brow. Something was very wrong here. But after the inspector’s warning about secrecy, she was careful not to give anything away. “And Inspector Coleman recommended me to you?” Isobel asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You say Dominic died at home?” Isobel knew very well he had not, but she wasn’t sure how much Miss Hayes knew, nor why the deceased’s fiancée was being kept in the dark. “If so, why do you require my services?”

  Katherine glanced at Lotario. “This mustn’t leave the room. I don’t want rumors circulating at the clubs.”

  “It won’t,” Lotario assured.

  “You were one of his dearest friends. I… Something isn’t right about the circumstance of his death. The family’s physician claims his heart gave out. But his father won’t let me see his body, and has dismissed the police. I went to the Detective Inspector myself and he directed me to you.”

  Ah, Isobel thought. The Noble family was one of the richest and most powerful families in San Francisco, which meant they had the Chief of Police in their pocket. That also meant Inspector Coleman’s hands were tied and he was not happy about it.

  “I want to know the truth, Miss Amsel,” she implored. “I think… I think his father may have killed him.”

  Isobel found herself in a precarious situation. On one hand, she’d sworn discretion to Inspector Coleman. On the other hand, he’d sent Katherine to her.

  Was he also sending a message?

  She glanced at her twin. His face was pale, his lips a tight line. He was silent, which wasn’t like him at all. Dominic Noble meant something to him. But what? Until she got the full story, she decided to tread carefully.

  She wasn’t about to tell Miss Hayes that her fiancée had been found in a brothel, naked and with a handkerchief stuffed down his throat. Not yet, at any rate.

  “Why do you suspect his father?” Isobel asked.

  “The family didn’t know of Donny’s death until an inspector called at their home asking to speak with Ian Noble. I found out from Helen, his youngest sister, that Dominic hadn’t come home that night. He was never in his bed at all. Why else would Ian Noble lie to me about where his son died?”

  Isobel knew precisely why the man would lie—to keep the family out of a scandal. “Did Dominic quarrel with his father?”

  Katherine leveled a cool gaze on her. “You don’t know Ian Noble.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “He’s a brute of a man. Always bellowing, always angry, and always finding fault in others. Especially his son.”

  “So Dominic and his father didn’t get along?”

  “Not at all. Dominic couldn’t stand the man.”

  “Did Ian Noble approve of your marriage?”

  Katherine’s shoulders sagged. “Yes,” she said faintly. “But only because I come with a great deal of money.”

  “What does your family do?”

  “My father is from old money, but he also deals in antiquities. It’s a hobby of his.”

  “Perhaps Dominic was in his room at the Palace?” Lotario suggested.

  Katherine shook her head. “I asked at the Palace. He wasn’t there, and I know they’d tell me.”

  “Did Dominic seem different to you before his death?”

  Both Katherine and Lotario flinched at the word death.

  “He seemed… distracted.”

  “About what?”

  “He mentioned a fight with his father. An argument.”

  “Over what?”

  “I don’t know. He wouldn’t say. I got the sense it was a… private matter between gentlemen.”

  Isobel shot to her feet. Lotario’s involvement was distracting her. “I must warn you, Miss Hayes, you may not like what I uncover.”

  “At least it will be the truth.”

  “The truth can be painful.”

  Katherine stood, gathering her things. “I’m already in pain, Miss Amsel. Will you take my case?”

  Isobel hesitated, glancing at her twin, who had risen as Miss Hayes stood. He was as stiff as a stone statue. “I’ll contact you tomorrow.”

  “Money is no matter. I know I’m not imagining things. Something is wrong here,” Katherine said, gripping Lotario’s arm. “Surely you agree? Donny was as fit as a fiddle. How could his heart possibly ‘give out’?”

  “We’ll do everything in our power,” Lotario said, squeezing her hand. “I swear.”

  As soon as Miss Hayes left, Lotario headed for his office, where she found him pouring a shot of whiskey. He glanced at her, downed it, and poured another as she closed the door.

  “The murdered man at the Nymphia… it was Dominic, wasn’t it?”

  “How did you know?”

  He shuddered. “You didn’t ask near enough questions for an interview, Bel. I could tell you already knew more than she did.” He turned his back on her to brace against a sideboard, downing another shot.

  Isobel poured herself a whiskey. “Were you two close?”

  “Tell me what you found.”

  “It’s not pretty, Ari.”

  Lotario’s eyes burned with tears. “The truth never is.”

  There was more here than just friendship. But she loved Lotario, so she didn’t hold back. She gave him facts. Cold. Hard. Cruel.

  By the time she was finished, he was sitting in his chair in a daze, a whiskey bottle cradled in his arm. “You can’t investigate this,” he whispered.

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “Because Dominic loved his family. He wouldn’t want to cause a scandal. This will taint his sisters’ reputations.”

  “And le
t a murderer escape?” she asked in shock.

  “There’s more at stake.”

  “Tell me.”

  Lotario focused on her. “Dominic was a close friend of mine.”

  There was no mistaking the way he said ‘close.’ But she said it out loud, anyway. “A lover?”

  “A client first, but then… yes. It’s complicated. He meant a great deal to me. He was a good man.”

  Isobel perched on the edge of the desk. This revelation raised even more questions. “Why would he be in a cow-yard like the Nymphia?”

  “I don’t know,” Lotario admitted. “But if you look into this… you could expose more than his killer.”

  “Meaning?” she asked.

  Lotario started gathering his things. “Meaning the deeper you dig, the more people you risk exposing.”

  He gave her a pointed look. Her investigation into Duncan August earlier that year had endangered Lucie de Winter, one of her twin’s personas.

  “I’ll be discreet, Ari.”

  “It won’t bring Dom back.”

  “You don’t care about justice?”

  “Justice?” he asked with a twist of his lips. “The same justice system that sends men like me to prison for loving someone? We live in the shadows, Bel. And if we’re truly lucky, we die there.”

  Isobel reached for her twin, but he pulled away. “Can you ask Tim to take over for me? I need to… I need to be alone.”

  Isobel didn’t want to leave Lotario alone, but cornering her twin would only aggravate him. She tried to put herself in his place as she exited the office. It seemed no one wanted Dominic Noble’s murder investigated save for his fiancée. Did Katherine know of her soon-to-be husband’s other life?

  Had Dominic’s father known?

  The horror on Dominic Noble’s face. The blood under his nails. The handkerchief forced down his throat with a carpenter’s pencil. It kept flashing behind her eyes, gnawing at her.

  How could she ignore a silent plea from the dead?

  Isobel stopped in the room of desks. Where were she and Riot supposed to work?

  “Your office isn’t finished yet,” Matthew said, standing up. “You’ll have your own to share with Mr. Riot, or so Mr. Amsel says.”

  “Oh.”

  Matthew drifted closer. “Is Mr. Riot all right? The 17th Station isn’t known for its… progressiveness.”

  “Inspector Coleman bullied his own guards in there,” she confided.

  Matthew blew out a breath that puffed up his cheeks. “No small feat.”

  Garrett had an ear cocked their way as he lounged at his desk, so Isobel moved off to the side. “Does it put Coleman in danger?”

  “There’s just as many bullies inside as out.” Police politics had made Matthew so angry that he left the force. “I can ask around to some of my old friends. See if they’ve heard anything.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “What else can I do?”

  “Do you know where Monty lived?”

  Matthew shook his head. “I think he moved around from one hotel to the next. He didn’t like me much.”

  “Nor me.”

  “I’m not sorry he’s gone.”

  “No…”

  Matthew leaned in and lowered his voice. “Did Mr. Riot shoot him?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking that?”

  Matthew made a face that said seems like something he’d do.

  Good God, even Riot’s friends thought him guilty. Small wonder Inspector Geary had hauled him in as a suspect.

  She caught Tim’s eye, who was conversing with Miss Off. The old man came over, and Miss Off took that as invitation to follow.

  “New case?” Tim asked.

  “Something like that. Can you take over interviewing?”

  “What happened to Lotario?”

  “He’s not feeling well.”

  Miss Off snorted.

  “What are you gonna do?” Tim asked.

  “I’m taking Matt to the morgue.”

  “You are?” Matthew asked.

  “If you can spare the time,” she said.

  Matthew eyed her suspiciously.

  “Of course he can spare it,” Tim said. “You need a bodyguard.”

  “Them bodies explodes,” Miss Off said with a little cackle.

  Matthew turned green.

  “It will build character,” Tim agreed.

  Isobel didn’t need a bodyguard; she just didn’t feel like being alone with Mr. Sims. Not because the body hauler was threatening, but it helped to have a buffer. Sims tended to talk. A lot. And he had no concept of personal space.

  Matthew grabbed his hat and coat, and they started to leave the office. But someone caught her eye in the waiting room of hopeful detectives—a tall, striking youth between hay and grass stood slouched in the corner. His cap was pulled low and his fine hands were thrust in his pockets.

  For as tall as Grimm White was, he could make himself near to invisible.

  The sight of him stopped her, and Matthew nearly ran her over. Perhaps there was a way to keep her twin from drinking himself into oblivion. For a few hours, at any rate.

  “Mr. White,” Isobel said. At her sharp call, the young man looked up. Not in surprise, but resignation. Of course he had noticed her. Very little escaped Grimm. “Won’t you come in?”

  “Hey! I was next.” A red-faced fellow sprang from his spot on the wall.

  “Then it won’t harm you to wait a little longer,” Isobel replied.

  “You don’t get to decide who’s next. I got here first, and I’m not waiting for no negro.”

  Isobel turned to Daisy Reed, who was eyeing Grimm with interest. “Miss Reed, would you inform this gentleman that his application has been rejected, and kindly have him leave my agency.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Riot.”

  The fellow was left fuming and grasping for some sort of argument, but then Matthew crossed his arms and put on his policeman face. He did have his uses.

  Isobel led Grimm to a room where Tim and Miss Off were set to conduct the next interview. She motioned them all to follow, then pushed open the door to her twin’s office. He was putting on a hat.

  Lotario glanced her way, his eyes tired.

  “I have one more interview for you,” she said.

  “I’m not in the mood—” He cut off when he saw Grimm slouching behind her.

  “I think you’ll want to interview this gentleman.”

  Grimm entered, followed by Tim and Miss Off.

  “Ten minutes with her and you’re lookin’ near to death’s door,” Miss Off muttered.

  Lotario ignored the woman and set his hat on the desk. “Grimm, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “I’ve come to interview for the detective position, sir,” Grimm said.

  Tim leaned against a wall, crossing his arms.

  “Does your mother know you’re here?” Isobel asked.

  Grimm had removed his cap, and now held it in his hands. He shook his head. At least he was honest.

  “I’m not sure we should cross your mother, Grimm,” she said.

  Miss Lily had given permission after a fashion. For occasional work (as long as it wasn’t dangerous) and driving the carriage. But that was limited.

  The young man took a deep breath. She thought that would be the end of it, but he surprised them all. “I’m my own man, or trying to be.” Grimm’s voice was unused, forgotten, but it was firm.

  Tim slapped his hands together and gave a little whoop. “You’re hired, boy.”

  Grimm dipped his head. “I don’t want special consideration, Mr. Tim. I just want a chance like everyone else.”

  “You’ll have it,” Lotario said.

  “What’s she so ‘fraid of? His ma keen on shootin’?” Miss Off asked.

  “His mother is a friend of mine,” Isobel explained. “It feels like I’m going behind her back.” Why was she explaining anything to Miss Off?

  “Nothin’ worse than a boy shackled to h
is ma’s apron.”

  Tim nodded in agreement. “Let’s see how he does. No harm in that, is there?”

  That was just it. Isobel didn’t know if there was harm in it, or not. What she did know was that the White family was hiding something. But as she’d hoped, Lotario had perked up with interest. He was as curious as she.

  “Miss Lily will probably ban you from the kitchen, Tim,” Isobel said.

  “I’m the one hiring,” Lotario said. “I’ll take responsibility.” He gestured to Miss Off, who resumed her Aphrodite pose. “What can you tell me about this woman?”

  Grimm studied the woman in silence. He wasn’t rushed, he wasn’t fidgety or dismissive. He just watched her. Even Miss Off took note of his stillness and grew self-conscious under his scrutiny.

  “Is he daft in the head?” Miss Off finally asked.

  “Aren’t we all?” Tim asked around the stem of his pipe.

  Miss Off thrust her chin at Isobel. “Her maybe; not me.” Then she cooed at the rat on her shoulder, making kissy noises.

  Grimm finally nodded to Lotario, who waited for an answer. When none came, Lotario pushed forward pen and paper. “Would you prefer to write your answer?”

  Grimm sat, took up the pen, and began scratching out his observations. When he finished, he slid the paper over, replaced the pen, and left without a word.

  Isobel had spent enough time in the young man’s presence to know he was easily spooked when he was the focus of attention.

  “He’s a strange one,” Miss Off noted.

  Lotario picked up the piece of paper, and Isobel leaned over his shoulder to read.

  “What’d he say ‘bout me?” Miss Off demanded.

  Grimm’s assessment generally described Miss Off: height, weight, hair and eye color, estimated age, skin color, and notable birthmarks. All accurate as far as she knew. But it was his summary that caught her eye.

  She’s lived a hard life. More intelligent than she seems. Her frivolity is an act to hide pain. Former drinker.

  Cause: grief, maybe; to forget, possibly. Pretends to be addled as a defense. Has a pet rat that she dotes on.

  Conclusion: Lost a child or husband. Possibly a former prostitute. A kindhearted woman who shouldn’t be dismissed based on outward appearance.’