I pulled my coat up over my shoulders and slid out of the booth. Now that Mr. De Lora was gone, I didn’t think I should push my luck by asking any more questions this evening. If he found out, it would likely annoy him. I would just have to wait until tomorrow.
I made my way out of De Lora’s and into the cool night air. The cold, silent street, when contrasted with the noisy, smoky atmosphere from which I just exited, was startling, even a bit disorienting, and I stood still for a moment, wondering how I was going to find my way back to the Aldens’ home. I pulled my fur tightly around me, both tired and exhilarated by the progress I had made in forming a relationship with Leon De Lora.
It was then my attention was caught by a sharp cry from the alleyway between De Lora’s and the apparently vacant building next door. I looked around, wondering if I should try to locate some help, but the street was empty. A soft thud and a muffled groan from the same direction were enough to convince me the matter bore looking into.
I moved to the edge of the building and peered into the alleyway. It was very dark, but the moon was shining into the space enough for me to make out three figures standing there. I couldn’t see their features distinctly, but I was fairly certain that two of them were Mr. De Lora and the gentleman who had come to fetch him from my table. The latter gentleman was holding a third gentleman against the wall by his throat. I barely stifled a gasp as I realized some violence was being done to the man.
“I’m not going to give you a second warning,” Mr. De Lora said in a calm voice. “You stay away from here. If I find out you’ve come back, you won’t get off so easy.”
He turned then and his employee released the man, who slumped to the ground. The two gentlemen, if such a term was applicable in this situation, turned without a backward glance and disappeared farther into the alley. A moment later I heard the sound of a door closing somewhere toward the back.
I slipped back to the front of the building, trying to decide what I should do next. It was very possible the man was badly injured and needed help. Should I phone for the police? It was then I realized ruefully that the officers that patrolled this particular neighborhood were likely the same ones who were, even now, enjoying mugs of beer in the basement of this establishment. Thankfully, I was saved from this conundrum when the man stumbled out of the alley and, without a glance in my direction, walked stiffly down the street.
I stared after him, wondering just what I had gotten myself into.
* * *
IT WAS LATE when I reached the house. I slipped inside, glad no one had locked the door in my absence, and made my way across the dark foyer, feeling my way up the stairs with a hand on the banister. The air was cool and still, and all was silent save for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer and the brush of my skirts against the steps as I ascended.
I slipped into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me. When I turned back toward the room, I started.
Milo was sitting in one of the chairs, still in his evening attire, smoking a cigarette.
It had not even occurred to me that Milo might be back from his outing with Tom. I had expected it to last until dawn, as his gambling forays often did, and had assumed that I would have plenty of time to get back into the Aldens’ home without Milo having known I was gone. This unexpected development was disconcerting.
I felt very much like a naughty child who had been caught doing something they oughtn’t, but I did my best to hide it. “Oh, hello, Milo.”
“Hello.”
I came into the room and tossed my fur across the back of a vacant chair.
“You’re still dressed,” I said nonchalantly, as I moved toward the dressing table to remove my jewelry. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I didn’t undress as I was wondering if I might have to comb the city looking for you.”
I turned to look at him, feeling a bit guilty, though I knew it was ridiculous as he had left me wondering about his whereabouts countless times over the years.
“I didn’t think you would be back so early,” I said lamely.
“I’ve been back for over an hour.”
“Oh.” It didn’t seem at all fair that he was always catching me doing underhanded things when I could never catch him at anything.
“We didn’t stay out very long, as Mr. Smith said he had lost enough money for one evening.”
I sighed. “Do you suppose he’s getting himself into debt?”
“As to that, I couldn’t say. He hadn’t the finesse of a long-term gambler and didn’t extend beyond whatever limit he had set for himself, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t done it before. He was disappointed with his losses, but no one likes to lose. I do hate to change the subject, darling, but do you mind terribly if I ask where you’ve been?” He asked the question in a perfectly casual way, as though my answer made little difference one way or the other. Perhaps it did. I had the sinking suspicion he already knew where I had been.
I hesitated. I had little doubt that this conversation was going to lead to an argument, and I was very tired. Then again, I supposed we might just as well have it out now as later. “You’re going to be angry with me,” I said at last.
“Oh, I have no doubt.”
“I went to De Lora’s tonight.”
He swore beneath his breath, but I pushed ahead.
“I wanted to see what it was like, to see if I could find out anything about Mr. Palmer’s involvement there. I was very careful not to do anything dangerous. After all, a great many society people go there every evening.”
“So that’s why you didn’t protest when I went last night, so you could go alone tonight, putting yourself in danger without anyone knowing what you were up to.”
I started to tell him that Winnelda had known to inform him if I had disappeared, but I thought better of it. There was no sense dragging her into this.
“I wasn’t in danger,” I protested.
This was a conversation we had again and again, Milo wanting me to stay safely at home while he did the things he considered unsafe. While I appreciated his attempts to protect me, I didn’t see why I should be prevented from doing things just because I was a woman. I was smart and capable, and I didn’t think I should be excluded from taking small risks just because I had not been born a man.
He interrupted this inner tirade. “Did you learn anything?”
I looked up at him, surprised, even a bit confused, by the question. “What?”
“Did you learn anything? At De Lora’s.”
“You’re not going to read me a lecture first?” I asked.
“I obviously can’t stop you,” he said. “You’re going to do just as you please, so I might as well just resign myself.”
I was glad that he was taking this realization so well.
I moved to take a seat in the chair across from him. “I had a long talk with Leon De Lora.”
His eyes met mine.
“You just waltzed up to Leon De Lora and introduced yourself.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m to do with you.”
It seemed I had not escaped the lecture after all.
“You needn’t do anything with me,” I replied tersely. “I’m not incompetent, and there’s no reason you need treat me as though I am.”
“I know you’re perfectly competent,” he replied mildly, apparently unwilling to be drawn into an argument on the topic. “But you’re my wife, and I think I’ve a right to be concerned for your safety.”
I let out a breath. “I appreciate your concern, but I was perfectly safe.”
“You agreed to let me go there alone.”
“And you did,” I pointed out. “When you didn’t learn anything, I decided to try my hand at it.”
He gave a sigh and motioned for me to continue.
“I told him that I had recently moved to New York from Maine and was trying to find work as a reporter and asked if he would answer a few
questions.”
“So you invented a reason for being blatantly inquisitive. I suppose that’s one way to go about things. And how did you explain your accent?”
“I used an American accent.”
His brows rose. “You’re becoming more and more incorrigible with each passing day, my love.”
I had the vague suspicion this was not a compliment, so I went on. “He was very pleasant and gave me information on a new nightclub he intends to open. It didn’t exactly lead to any information about Mr. Palmer’s death, but…”
I broke off, feeling instinctively that now was not the time to mention that Mr. De Lora was expecting me for another visit tomorrow night. I expected Milo to prod me on, but it seemed he had focused on the beginning of my sentence rather than the end of it.
“Very pleasant, was he?” His eyes moved over me. “I suppose that dress didn’t hurt anything.”
I shrugged, the strap slipping off my shoulder as if in answer to his remark. “He didn’t seem to take any particular notice of my dress.”
It was not entirely true, perhaps. I had seen his eyes run over me once or twice in an appraising sort of way, but there had been nothing untoward in his manner. In fact, I had been treated much worse by gentlemen of my own social circle.
He stubbed out his cigarette and rose from his chair. “You can convince me of a lot of things, darling, but you’re not going to convince me that a man like Leon De Lora took no notice of your … physical attributes.”
I made a show of considering this. “He did say I had pretty ears.”
“Ears?” Milo repeated. His eyes swept over me. “You were wearing that, and it was your ears he noticed? I would have expected De Lora to have a bit more finesse.”
“He has a certain sort of rugged appeal,” I mused.
“I don’t mean to appear overly inquisitive, darling, but are you intent on seducing Leon De Lora?”
I frowned at him. “Of course not.”
“Does he know that?”
“I didn’t make any improper advances to him, if that’s what you mean,” I replied, vaguely irritated. It was true that Mr. De Lora had been a bit flirtatious, but that was in his nature. There had been nothing to indicate that he was interested in me beyond my role as a reporter, and I certainly hadn’t given him the impression that I was receptive to such a thing.
“Yes, but I was wondering what you plan to do when he decides he wants to do more than give you information.”
“That’s not going to happen. I’ve made it perfectly clear I was only interested in writing an article.”
Milo sighed. “I cannot believe it’s possible for you to have been married to me for six years and still retain that breathtaking naïveté.”
“I’m not as innocent as you think,” I retorted.
His brows rose. “Oh? Do tell.”
“I only mean that I am perfectly capable of divining the nefarious intentions of gentlemen, and I can tell you that Leon De Lora isn’t thinking of me in those terms. He’s handsome and charming, yes, but I know how to deal with men like that.”
“I see I shall have to put all thoughts of him from your mind,” he said, taking my hands and pulling me to my feet, his arms sliding around me.
“And how do you intend to do that?” I asked with a laugh, suddenly much less tired than I had been.
“With my own ode to your earlobes, perhaps?” he leaned to murmur, his lips against my ear.
Within a few moments, Leon De Lora was the furthest thing from my mind.
15
IT WAS AT breakfast the next morning that Mr. Alden broached the subject of a visit to the center of his shipping operations.
“Perhaps we might take that visit to the warehouse today, Ames?”
I looked up from my plate. This was the first I’d heard of any visit to the warehouse. I glanced at Milo, but he wasn’t looking in my direction.
“I’d enjoy that,” Milo replied. He took a sip of coffee, and I had the distinct impression he was avoiding my gaze deliberately, as though to ward off my curiosity. He ought to have known better.
“Things have been so hectic as of late that I haven’t had much thought about them,” Mr. Alden continued, “but I suppose I really ought to make sure that everything is going well. My warehouse manager hasn’t telephoned me, but he’s the sort of man not to worry until things get out of hand. Besides, it’ll be a good time for you to get the lay of the land.”
“An excellent idea.”
Tabitha sighed. “We don’t have to come, do we? The warehouse is such a dreary place, and it’s always so horribly hot inside, even at this time of year.”
“No, of course not,” Mr. Alden said. “I’m sure you and Amory have wedding details to take care of.”
I could see where this was headed. I would be packed off for another morning of shopping or some such thing while the men went off to examine the place that might very well hold clues to the motive behind Mr. Palmer’s murder.
“I hate to contradict Tabitha, but I’d love to see your warehouses,” I said to Mr. Alden.
Milo glanced at me, and Mr. Alden looked up from his coffee with an expression of surprise. “I didn’t think it would be of much interest to you, Amory, but, of course, you’d be welcome.”
“Thank you,” I replied. Now it was my turn to refuse to look in Milo’s direction lest he try to dissuade me with his eyes.
“Well, I hope you don’t mind if I beg off,” Tabitha said. “I’ll call up Tom and see if he wants to go driving. It looks like it’s going to be a lovely day.”
Breakfast finished, we went to gather our coats and hats as Mr. Alden had his car sent round.
“You don’t need to come to the warehouse, you know,” Milo told me as I pulled on my gloves.
“I want to see it for myself. I’ve been wondering about those break-ins.”
“You’d do well to stop wondering about them,” he said. “That has nothing to do with any of this.”
“You don’t know that. It might very well have something to do with Grant Palmer’s murder. If Mr. Alden is involved in some unlawful scheme that led to Mr. Palmer’s death, then we might find a clue to tell us so there.”
“Even if that’s the case, you’re certainly not to go traipsing around those warehouses asking questions. If Mr. Alden or one of his associates is the killer, it won’t be safe for you.”
What he said made sense, of course, but I didn’t like it. I felt certain that some key to this matter might be found at Mr. Alden’s warehouse. And if I could I was going to find out.
* * *
THE WAREHOUSE WAS located in an area known as the Meatpacking District, though Mr. Alden explained to us that many of the industries located there had nothing to do with the meat business. The nucleus of Alden Shipping was an impressive brick building, surrounded by a scattering of smaller, less imposing buildings, not far from the waterfront. The main building was two stories and had one wide, tall door in the front of it, big enough to drive a vehicle into, I imagined. There were windows, too, though they appeared dark as though shuttered from the inside. Outside were stacked large wooden crates that towered upward like buildings of their own. Trucks drove to and fro, smaller crates piled up in their beds. Men moved about, too, with an air of purpose, many of them pushing handcarts or pulling small trolleys loaded with odds and ends. It all gave the impression of busy industry and apparent success. I was beginning to see how Mr. Alden might have recovered from his financial difficulties, and I felt a bit guilty for my suspicions.
We alighted from the car at a smaller brick building, and Mr. Alden led us inside. A man behind one of the battered wood desks stood when we entered. He was an older gentleman, tall and thin, with nondescript features and wearing dusty coveralls, but he had the unmistakable aura of a man comfortable in his authority.
“This is my warehouse manager, Fred Brown,” Mr. Alden said by way of introduction.
“Hello,” Mr. Brown said with a nod in our dir
ection.
“How is everything, Fred?”
The two of them launched into a brief discussion about the running of the business. I listened carefully, trying to catch any discernible hints of uneasiness in either of them, but everything seemed very straightforward. At last Mr. Alden turned his attention back to us. “Ready for the tour?” he asked.
We walked back outside and were greeted with a burst of cool wind off the water. I pulled my coat tighter and took Milo’s arm, hoping to derive some warmth from him. Mr. Alden led us around the stacks of wooden crates and through a warren of wheelbarrows, hand trucks, and other assorted moving apparatus to a door in the side of the warehouse. He took a key from his pocket, inserted it into the lock, and pushed the door open.
“We keep all the doors locked, except the loading dock, which is open during the day. Cuts down on the chance of thieves getting in.”
We followed him inside. The interior of the warehouse was much the same as the outside had been. There were heaps of crates, barrels, and boxes here, too, workers moving about the room with purpose and focus. A line of tin drums sat near the open door of the loading dock, gasoline for the trucks, I imagined. Above us, a catwalk followed the walls of the building, and men moved about there, too, looking down on the industry beneath them, making notes, and occasionally calling things out to the workmen on the floor. No one seemed to take much notice of our presence as we moved farther into the cavernous space.
The temperature in the warehouse was noticeably different than it had been outside. As Tabitha had said, the interior of the building was very hot. Within a few minutes, I thought of discarding my coat, but we were moving at a good pace through the warehouse, following Mr. Alden through a maze of stacked containers, and I didn’t like to halt our progress.
Mr. Alden began to explain the workings of his enterprise as we walked. “We do a lot of shipping, but the items often come here to be stored before we have a truck or boat ready for shipping them. It takes a carefully organized system to make sure that everything is sorted correctly and loaded and delivered on time.”
A Dangerous Engagement Page 16
