“Yes. Andrews apparently killed the guard and was waiting for Davis to show up to move the drugs. He hadn’t counted on us.”
I looked at Milo’s profile as he effortlessly navigated the streets crowded with cars driving on the wrong side of the road. He looked exhilarated, as though he had never had a more enjoyable time than the day he had spent playing cards with gangsters at gunpoint.
I wondered how the news of the baby would add to this, but I decided that now was not the moment to tell him.
We arrived at De Lora’s, and I realized that, despite the all-inclusive atmosphere of the establishment, I was going to draw attention clad only in my slip and Milo’s jacket.
“I need something to wear,” I said.
As if on cue, I saw Mr. De Lora approaching the car just then with something in his hand. He opened the door and tossed it in to me. It was a dress of dark orange silk.
“The best I could do on short notice,” he said, and I didn’t ask where it had come from.
Milo got out of the car and the two gentlemen stepped away while I pulled the dress over my head. Winnelda would be absolutely appalled if she could see me now, dressing hurriedly in the front seat of an automobile. I decided it would probably be best if she never found out.
Now nominally attired, I exited the car and Mr. De Lora led us wordlessly into the alley on the side of the building where I had witnessed the altercation on a previous visit to De Lora’s. There was a door set into it, made of solid steel, I noted with interest.
He unlocked it and slid it open, and it revealed a staircase, leading down into dimness. Mr. De Lora went first and I followed, Milo behind me. At the bottom of the stairs we found ourselves in the corridor that led to Mr. De Lora’s office.
He led us inside, and nodded toward one of the chairs I had occupied—was it only yesterday?—when I had interviewed him for my imaginary article.
“Wait for us here, Amory,” he said.
I felt the tug of annoyance at his commanding manner, but I decided to let this pass for the moment. I knew Milo would side with Mr. De Lora, and I was much too tired for arguments.
I took a seat, and Mr. De Lora led Milo to one of the bookcases along the wall. He reached out to push something and the bookcase opened inward, revealing another corridor.
They went through without comment, and I heard a door open and close inside and then nothing.
I sat there a moment, still reeling from all the revelations that had unfolded today.
I still couldn’t believe that Detective Andrews had been a part of all of this. I wondered about Detective Bailey. Was he a part of it, too?
It was all so maddening and made even worse by the fact that I was being excluded from whatever they were discussing now.
Though I knew I probably should not, I rose from my chair and moved to where the section of the bookcase still stood open.
I stepped into the little space beyond and found that it led to a door only a few feet away. That was the room into which Milo and Mr. De Lora had disappeared.
I heard voices from the other side of the door. I wondered what they were doing there.
I leaned closer, pushing my ear against the door. Unfortunately, the wood was too thick, and I couldn’t make out what the voices were saying.
Eavesdropping would clearly do me no good; I would have to be more direct. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Milo…” I stopped, startled by the tableau before me.
Milo and Mr. De Lora stood over a man who was tied to a chair.
He looked vaguely familiar, and I frowned, trying to place him. Suddenly it came to me. This was the same man Mr. Alden had thrown bodily from his house. He worked for Frankie Earl and had been there trying to intimidate Mr. Alden into making a deal. No wonder Mr. Alden had been enraged. And no wonder he had looked so stricken when he’d arrived home to find the police at his doorstep. No doubt he was afraid that they had taken out their vengeance on him by harming Tabitha.
The man was doing his best to maintain a surly expression, but I was certain that there was a hint of uneasiness in his eyes. I couldn’t say I blamed him. Leon De Lora was not known for being merciful, but, even being aware of his reputation, I was rather taken aback by the cold, expressionless look on his face. Even Milo looked like he’d do harm to the man without a second thought.
Milo glanced at me. “Amory, I think you’d better leave us.”
I frowned. “What’s going on?”
Milo didn’t look at me as he answered. “Mr. Davis is being uncooperative.”
“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” the man spat out.
“Yes, well, that was your mistake,” Milo replied.
“You’re going to pay for this,” he sneered. “You’re all dead. The broad, too. Though we might keep her around awhile since she’s a looker.”
I assumed this unpleasantness was aimed at me, though the language was a bit difficult to interpret.
“Threaten the lady again,” Mr. De Lora said, “and you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
“You think I’m scared of you, De Lora?” the man said, though I could clearly see the unease in his eyes.
“It’s not De Lora you need to worry about,” Milo said. “Threaten my wife again, and I’ll kill you myself.” There was none of his usual pleasant humor in the words.
The man scowled but said nothing further.
“Now, if you’d be so kind as to tell us the whereabouts of Detective Andrews,” Milo went on.
This was a side of Milo I hadn’t seen before. He was normally so blithely at ease, his effortless charm infusing everything he did. But there was a grimness about him now that I didn’t recognize.
“I’m going to need you to tell us the truth. Fast,” Mr. De Lora said, his voice hard. Even though the words were not directed at me, I felt the impact behind them, the threat implicit in the phrase.
The man seemed to realize it, too, for I saw his face tighten. “I don’t … I don’t know anything.”
“That isn’t true,” Milo said calmly.
“It is true. I don’t know nothing. I’ve got nothing to tell you.”
Mr. De Lora reached casually into his jacket to pull out the gun. He held it easily in his hand, glancing down at it. “If you don’t know anything, then you’ll be of no use to us.”
I felt suddenly as though I had wandered onto the set of a gangster film and didn’t know my lines. Surely Mr. De Lora didn’t mean to shoot this man. Surely Milo wouldn’t let him.
“Milo…” I began uncertainly.
“Amory, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said, his eyes still on the man before him.
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if he meant it. What possible reason could there be for him to send me out?
“I … you can’t harm him,” I whispered.
“Go,” he said, his eyes flickering to mine. I could read nothing in them. They were that same blank blue that I had seen there before when he hadn’t wanted me to know what he was thinking.
I stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do, and then I turned and left the room, closing the door behind me. I would have to trust that Milo knew what he was doing, trust that he would not truly harm the man. They were just scaring him to get information. I had to believe that.
I went back into Mr. De Lora’s study, and found that I suddenly felt very shaky.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Ames?”
I looked to see Esther Hayes standing there. Her usually unreadable face was filled with concern, and I let out a breath, glad to share this burden with someone.
“Mr. De Lora and my husband have a man in there,” I said. “They’re asking him questions.”
“Leon will take care of things,” she said.
“I … I’m rather afraid he means to kill that man.”
If this shocked her, she gave no sign of it.
“He might not be a good man, but he will do what’s best for the people he cares about.” There was so
mething in the words that made me realize something that I should have realized long ago.
“You’re in love with him,” I said before I could think better of it.
“I’ve been in love with him for a long time,” she said softly. “Of course, I’m not sure anything can be done about it. For one thing, you know how society would look on a relationship between us.”
Although I wanted to reassure her, I knew that it would never be easy for them.
“Mr. De Lora is not the kind of man who cares about what society thinks,” I told her.
She looked at me. “I know he doesn’t. He’s told me that before, but…” Her voice broke. “He still loves his dead wife, too. He doesn’t talk about her, but I know he thinks about her often. I’m not sure he will ever love anyone as he loves her.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to this. I knew the power that the memory of love could have over someone, and how difficult it could be to compete with.
“He wants to take me to Paris,” she said at last. “He’s going to open another nightclub there. He thinks that we could be happy together. There would be less talk in a city like Paris, and maybe a change of scenery would help him forget.”
“If you love each other, then perhaps you should go and be happy,” I said.
“Perhaps.”
I wasn’t sure what her future with Leon De Lora would mean. In addition to the struggles they would face as a couple of different races, there was the matter of Mr. De Lora’s past. Though he was not responsible for Grant Palmer’s death, I had seen firsthand the ruthlessness in him. War and the death of his wife had made him hard, and that hardness had become deep rooted. There was much that he would have to face—that they would have to face together—if they were ever to find lasting happiness.
He wasn’t a good man, but perhaps a good woman could make him a better one.
There was movement behind the bookcase then, and Mr. De Lora and Milo came out.
I looked quickly to my husband, who offered me an indulgent smile. “He’s still alive.”
I let out a breath. “That was a bit alarming.”
“It was effective,” he said, his features once again relaxed, no hint of that cold intensity that had marred his handsome features a few moments ago. He had been playing a part, I realized. It had been very convincing.
Mr. De Lora gave me an easy smile, as though he hadn’t been waving a gun in a man’s face five minutes before. “Your husband may look like a society snob, but he knows how to handle himself when the chips are down.”
“Yes,” I said, glancing at Milo. “He can be relied upon when it comes down to it.”
“I think we know where we can find Andrews,” Mr. De Lora said, and something about the way he said it made me uneasy.
“De Lora will have his driver take you back to the Aldens’ house,” Milo told me. “You should be safe there.”
“No,” I said.
“Amory, surely you realize you can’t go with us,” Milo said with a sigh.
“I’m not going, and I don’t want you to go either,” I said, a bit surprised at myself. I had always tried to be the understanding wife, the wife who didn’t ask too many questions or make demands upon my husband. But this was different. I didn’t want Milo to go out, chasing danger and perhaps getting himself involved in another murder, however he and Mr. De Lora might couch it in terms of justice.
“Amory…” he began, but I shook my head, cutting him off.
“We’ve had this conversation again and again,” I said. “You never think of the consequences for anyone but yourself.” I was angry now, the pain and horror of those hours I had lived thinking he might be dead squeezing my chest until I felt breathless. “You aren’t alone in the world anymore, Milo, able to do whatever strikes your fancy. There are people depending on you. I need you … Our child needs you.”
He looked up, comprehension flashing across his eyes.
So there it was. I hadn’t meant for it to come out this way, in the middle of an argument, in front of two people we didn’t know well at all. I had meant to tell him in a tender moment, had imagined the way that we would look lovingly at each other. Nowhere in my imagining of this moment had I thought that I would be standing in a speakeasy as he was prepared to leave with a gangster to do heaven knows what.
“Amory?”
“Yes,” I said softly. “I’m going to have a baby.”
My eyes were on his face as I said the words, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
I let out a shaky breath, and with it some of my anger. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you, but I suppose now is as good a time as any. Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“I’m afraid you’ve rendered me speechless,” he said.
“In a good or bad way?” I asked uncertainly.
“Good, of course.” He walked to me and caught my hands in his. “I’m delighted.”
“Truly?” I looked up into his eyes, and this time the answer in them was clear enough.
“Truly,” he said, bringing one of my hands to his lips and kissing it.
“I guess that means you’d better take her home,” Mr. De Lora said.
Milo nodded, still looking at me.
“In times of crisis, it’s important to remember what really matters,” Mr. De Lora said thoughtfully. I turned to look at him, but his eyes had gone to Esther Hayes.
She was looking at him, too, and I could see that some sort of unspoken communication was happening between them.
Then he turned back to Milo and me. “That’s quite a woman you’ve got there, Ames. Take good care of her. I need you to be able to focus when we start up the nightclub.”
Milo smiled. “I intend to.”
We all left the office and went back into the corridor, to the set of stairs that led up to the steel door in the alleyway.
“My driver will get you home,” Mr. De Lora said to Milo. “I’ll send word when everything’s resolved.”
Milo nodded.
Mr. De Lora looked at me, that half smile tugging at his mouth. “I guess I’ll see you in London, Rosie,” he said.
“If you do, I think you’d better call me Mrs. Ames,” I replied with a laugh.
He winked at me. Then he went over and put an arm around Miss Hayes, and the two of them walked back toward his office together.
* * *
MR. DE LORA’S driver took us back to the Aldens’ house, so there wasn’t an opportunity to discuss my pregnancy on the way. Though Milo had seemed genuinely glad to hear the news, I wondered what he was thinking. I wanted to be able to talk about it with him, to let the tensions of the past week give way to the happiness of expectancy for the future.
But there were still the unresolved elements of the case. Would Mr. De Lora find Detective Andrews? If so, what did he mean to do when he did?
I was still so uncertain as to how things might end.
It was nearly dawn when we alighted the car in front of the Aldens’ house. The street was quiet, save for the chirping of the birds as they began their morning songs.
Milo took my arm and led me into the house. I had expected the silence of a sleeping household, but there were voices coming from the drawing room.
I looked at Milo, a slight frown on my face. Perhaps my absence had been noted and someone had raised the alarm.
Well, it would be best to set everyone’s mind at ease.
We moved toward the sitting room and walked inside. Tabitha, Tom, and Mr. Alden were there, as was Rudy Elliot. Only Jemma Petrie was missing.
Then I stopped, drawing back in surprise when I saw Detective Andrews standing there before the fireplace.
28
HE LOOKED AS surprised to see me as I was to see him. No doubt he had thought my body lay in a heap of ashes inside Mr. Alden’s warehouse.
It had never occurred to me that he might be brazen enough to return to the Alden home, but perhaps he had come here in some mock official capacity.
>
“Oh, Amory!” Tabitha said, leaping from her chair and rushing to me. She threw her arms around me, much as I had done when I first saw Milo. “I was afraid something terrible had happened to you. The warehouse has burned down.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, looking over her shoulder at Detective Andrews. He had recovered from his surprise, and his face was now a mask. Whatever else he was, he was good at hiding his feelings.
“Never mind about the warehouse,” Mr. Alden said. “Insurance will cover that. I’m just glad you’re all right. Tabitha had some strange notion that you might have been there.”
“I don’t know why,” she said. “I just kept feeling that something was wrong, and when you weren’t in your room I was sure that something awful had happened to you.”
“Well, I’m perfectly fine,” I said.
“I called everyone to see if they’d heard from you or Milo, and Tom and Rudy came right over. We were all so concerned. I called Jemma, too, but she’s still very sick. I’m going to go look in on her, now that I know you’re all right.” I could tell at once that she didn’t suspect the true nature of Jemma’s illness any more than I had, but now was certainly not the time to discuss it.
“Thank you. I’m sorry we gave you such a fright,” I said, my eyes darting back to Detective Andrews.
I could feel the tension in Milo beside me. It was uncharacteristic of him, but I suspected he was having a difficult time not throttling Detective Andrews. After all, the man had attempted to murder me.
“Mrs. Ames, I wonder if I could have a word with you for a moment,” Detective Andrews said suddenly.
“No, you may not,” Milo replied, and there was steel beneath the words.
The two of them looked at each other, and I tensed, very much afraid there was going to be an eruption of violence. If that was the case, we would be at a disadvantage. Detective Andrews had a gun, after all.
“There’s nothing to fear,” he said with a smile that chilled me. “There’s just a small matter I’d like to discuss with you.”
“I said no,” Milo told him.
But, for a moment, I considered it. Perhaps I could convince him I would not give away his secret, get him to leave so I could call for the legitimate authorities. My mind whirled as I tried to come up with some sort of plan, a way we might get out of this without any further loss of life, but then a voice in the doorway drew my attention.
A Dangerous Engagement Page 28
