The Case of the Troubled Tycoon: A Gilded Age Historical Cozy Mystery (Shipwreck Point Mysteries Book 5)

by Elise M Stone

  “Good afternoon, Titus,” the assistant district attorney said. As always, his naturally curly brown hair was winning its daily battle with pomade. Titus thought the man would be better off leaving it to its natural style.

  “Good afternoon, Garner. How is Phoebe these days?” he inquired politely, although he didn’t have much interest in Garner’s wife’s health.

  “Fine, fine. I assume Elisabeth is well?” Garner responded.

  “Fit as always,” Titus said. “If we all rode a bicycle the length of the Point each day, we’d probably be better off.”

  “Indeed,” Garner said.

  “Since we’re all here, shall we get started?” the judge asked.

  The two lawyers nodded their agreement and sat in the chairs in front of the judge’s desk, while the judge went behind it to sit in his place. “I thought it would be a good idea to settle the ground rules for Wednesday’s hearing.”

  Titus flinched as the words echoed in his brain, although he’d expected something like this. To be honest, he’d imagined it would be sooner. He hoped the other two hadn’t noticed his shock.

  One side of the judge’s mouth quirked up, by which Titus had to assume he had. If he had any doubts, they were scoured from his mind when the judge added, “Yes, Mr. Strong, that’s right. The preliminary hearing will start Wednesday at nine o’clock. The police have filed all their reports, and Dr. Wood has completed the autopsy, so there seems to be no reason for delay. Unless you might have cause to request one?”

  Certainly, he didn’t have a legal reason to postpone the hearing. Representing his client didn’t include tracking down the murderer, although it was a powerful defense for proving his innocence. “No, Your Honor.”

  “Good. I’ve heard that the former occupant of this chair gave a lot of leeway in his proceedings. That’s something that’s going to change. In my courtroom, we will follow the law exactly.”

  He turned toward the prosecutor. “As regards this hearing, Mr. Garner will present the reasons Mr. Muir should be bound over for trial through legally acceptable witnesses.” The judge then turned toward Titus, his features stern, allowing no argument. “You, as defense council, may cross-examine those witnesses to verify their qualifications and the truth of their testimony as regards your client.

  “You may only call witnesses who have incontrovertible proof that your client could not possibly have committed the crime.” Crane took a deep breath. “This is a court of law, not a vaudeville show. There will be no theatrics, no skirting of procedure, no surprises. Am I clear, Mr. Strong?”

  “Crystal, Your Honor.” There was no reason to object to the rules. They were all valid, and for the first time since he’d begun defending the accused in Whitby, Titus didn’t have any surprise witnesses—yet. He wasn’t certain he ever would have one during the course of this case.

  The judge sat back, a satisfied smile on his face. “Any questions, gentlemen?”

  “No, Your Honor,” they chorused.

  “Good. I’ll see you at nine o’clock on Wednesday then.”

  Dismissed, the two attorneys rose from their chairs and headed toward the door. They made the journey to the courthouse steps in silence. Once outside, Garner gave him a wry grin. “He’s a little different than we’re used to, isn’t he?”

  “A little, and quite a contrast to Derek Harmon,” he said, naming the last man who had briefly been called judge in Whitby. “It seems as if Ranson Payne is taking no chances this time.”

  “It does, indeed. I think he’s tired of our legal procedures being ridiculed in professional circles in Boston. That didn’t happen until you got here, of course. I mean no disrespect, Strong. I know you practiced law in Boston the same way. But the number of murders here has focused attention on Shipwreck Point unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.”

  “I’m not responsible for that.”

  “I didn’t mean to say you were. It’s a coincidence, I’m sure.” There was a moment of awkward silence between them. “Well, I’m certain we both have plenty to do before Wednesday morning.”

  “I’m sure we do. Goodbye, then, Edgar,” Titus said and left to go back to his office. He was sure Garner was thoroughly prepared to make his case. He, on the other hand, had no idea what he was going to do next week, other than use his wits to respond to whatever argument the district attorney was going to present.

  CHAPTER 28

  Elisabeth caught the trolley out to the Point on her Saturday half-day off carrying her easel and paints. She’d enjoyed painting last week so much, she wanted to make a habit of it. If she painted regularly, she just might improve her skills enough to think of hanging one of her works in the law office.

  If she were honest with herself, she also hoped she would repeat an encounter with the young lovers. While she assumed they were together, it was always possible they’d run off separately and arranged another meeting at the end of Shipwreck Point this weekend.

  She got down from the trolley in front of the lighthouse and trekked to the west side where she’d have a good perspective of Boston Harbor. Quickly setting up her easel, she soon fell into the rhythm of putting brushstrokes on the heavy watercolor paper, laying in the background and the gentle waves of the bight. She nibbled on her lip as she concentrated on her task. Much to her delight, a two-masted yacht with sails fore and aft hove into view, making its lazy way across the water. Now, if she could only paint it over the pale wash of her background before it disappeared.

  She almost bit through her lip when a familiar voice said, “That’s very good, Elisabeth.”

  “Alain!” she said delightedly to the artist who had once been her teacher. She glanced at her picture before asking, “Do you really think so?”

  “I do. It might be time for you to move on to oils.”

  The whole idea frightened her. It was one thing to dabble in watercolors and quite a different thing to work in oil paints. “Would you be willing to guide me?”

  “Of course. I see we both like to come here on a sunny afternoon. We might make that more formal, with the agreement that we would critique one another.”

  She raised a hand to her throat and felt the rapid pulse of her heart at the thought. “Oh, I don’t think I’d be able to critique your work.”

  “Of course you could. You have a good eye, which is all that’s required to assess the success or failure of a work of art.”

  “If you believe my opinion would be worthwhile, I’d be happy to meet you each week and paint together. Perhaps on Sundays? I can’t count on having a half day off every Saturday. Mr. Strong might need me at the law office in the future.” She could only hope that were true. “Are you selling many of your paintings these days?”

  She was glad to see him beam. He’d struggled so in the past to do that, largely because of a dishonest gallery owner.

  “Fortunately, I am. Pike is much easier to work with than Walter Baumann ever was. And the notoriety resulting from the murder has brought many new customers to the Whitby Gallery.”

  “I’m so pleased to hear that,” she said with genuine warmth. Then she saw him grimace.

  “It’s not all good,” he admitted. “Warren Chapman had commissioned a painting of his house here in Whitby. I did several sketches to work from, particularly during the days leading up to the Garden Club Tour. When I met with him to show him my ideas for the composition, I asked for a deposit in order to proceed.”

  Elisabeth knew what was coming before DeGarmo said the words.

  “He begged off, saying he wasn’t able to pay me at the moment because of a temporary setback, but I should continue working on the canvas, anyway.” His voice got louder the longer he spoke, and when he’d finished he was shouting, his features pressed into a scowl. “I’m not as foolish as all that, and so I told him that until I received payment for my time spent in making the sketches, I wouldn’t do a single thing more. Now, of course, I’ll never be paid for what I’ve completed, much less the final composition
I was to have done.”

  She could imagine how that conversation had gone. Alain DeGarmo had a quick temper, and she was sure he’d been outraged at Warren Chapman. But certainly a lost commission wasn’t a reason to commit murder, not even for the short-tempered artist.

  She’d never imagined the wealthy stock speculator as being in financial difficulty. It would be interesting to know why. “Did Mr. Chapman give any specifics about his financial setback?”

  “I don’t pretend to know what he was talking about, but he said something about a short sale of some copper stock.”

  Elisabeth felt the same as the artist. She had no idea what a short sale was, but perhaps Titus did. Whatever it was, it had led to circumstances that Chapman hadn’t anticipated.

  CHAPTER 29

  As Elisabeth exited the small white church, she paused on the top step and searched the surrounding Whitby Green for Titus Strong. He’d promised to meet her so he could pass out business cards at the annual rummage sale, and she’d thought he would be here by now. But she saw no sign of her employer.

  Annie, who had come to church with her, exclaimed, “Oooh! How pretty!”

  The gentlemen of the congregation had set up tables and booths on the grass the day before and the ladies had arrived early to put out their wares this morning. The colored balloons hung from the booth stanchions bounced in the breeze while signs in bright shades of paint announced the contents of each. Ladies in their Sunday best and gentlemen in freshly pressed suits and starched white shirts were already gathering around one that said Pies and another that read Lemonade. A particularly long table displayed household goods.

  “It is, isn’t it,” Elisabeth agreed as she continued her search. “Do you see Mr. Strong anywhere?”

  Annie did her own quick perusal of the event, then shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

  “We’d better get out of everyone’s way, then.” She led the way down to the grass, wondering if Titus had found out something related to the case he needed to investigate. Or if he’d stayed away on purpose. He didn’t relish publicizing his law practice, which was why she said she’d meet him here. She wasn’t fond of drumming up business like a common traveling salesman herself, but if it meant keeping her job, she was willing to do it. “I suppose we could take a look at what’s here while we wait for him.”

  She proceeded to the household goods booth, thinking she might pick up another washtub to replace the one with the dent in its side they’d been making do with. Annie loyally followed, but Elisabeth noticed her eyes drifting to the Ladies table as they passed.

  Distracted by Annie’s fascination with the ladies items, she almost ran into a pretty yellow parasol with three rows of ruffles circling the edge as the woman who held it backed away from the table. Dodging just in time, she instead was caught by the woman’s elbow as she turned toward the center of the park.

  “Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry.” Susanna Baumann’s eyes lifted to Elisabeth’s face as she apologized. “Elisabeth. So nice to see you here.” Susanna flicked a glance toward the used pots and pans, gently worn dish towels, and other assorted items as she nibbled her lower lip. Elisabeth knew she and her mother had been left in poor financial straits when her father had passed, but she hadn’t thought they were so destitute as to buy used goods. Apparently Susanna didn’t want to admit they were, because she quickly said, “I wanted to make sure the dishes I donated were positioned in a premier place. I’m sure they’ll bring a good price.”

  Playing along, she said, “I’m certain any of your former possessions will be sought after by many buyers.” Changing the subject, she commented, “That’s an exquisite parasol. Is it new?”

  Susanna responded with a gratified grin. “Yes, it is. I bought it at the Holmes sale last week. It was just too beautiful to pass up.” And then, as if to emphasize the difference in their status, she said, “You might want to look at the ladies table and see if you can find a parasol. You’ll ruin your complexion if you keep going about without one.”

  Elisabeth touched the edge of the wide brim of her boater. “I don’t spend as many hours outside now as I used to. My hat is fine for that.” She caught the silhouette of a familiar figure emerging from the throng around the lemonade table out of the corner of her eye. “I see Mr. Strong has arrived. If you’ll excuse me, I promised to meet him here.”

  Susanna gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Of course.”

  Elisabeth felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She’d meant to convey that their meeting was a matter of business, not personal pleasure. To attempt to explain that now would only make matters worse. She quickly headed across the grass in Strong’s direction, Annie trailing behind like a proper lady’s maid.

  All thoughts of embarrassment flew from her mind as she saw Titus’s face light up when his eyes found hers. Both of them quickened their steps as they rushed to meet one another.

  When she reached him, she said, “I was afraid you’d forgotten.”

  His mouth fell open as he gave her an incredulous stare. “I wouldn’t forget you, Elisabeth.”

  She was flustered at his response, but quickly hid her insecurity before telling him, “I’d forgive you if you did. You’ve got a lot on your mind right now. In fact, if you’d prefer to prepare your case this afternoon, you could leave your business cards with me, and I’ll hand them out at the tables.”

  “No. That’s my responsibility. You’re here to keep me from backing out.” He smiled as he acknowledged his reluctance to go through with the plan. “Shall we start at the end of the row closest to the church?”

  Before they could take a half-dozen steps, Titus’s manservant trotted up to them. He’d raced across the lawn from the direction of the townhouse, and was breathing heavily.

  “Is something wrong, Hathaway?” Titus asked.

  It was only when the man raised his hand and extended it in Titus’s direction that Elisabeth noticed he was holding something in it. He turned his palm up and opened his fingers, revealing what it was. “You forgot your business cards, sir.”

  The tips of Titus’s ears reddened as he took the cards from Hathaway. She didn’t think anyone noticed except herself, and she only because she knew to look for it. “Drat! I meant to pick those up on my way out. Thank you.”

  “Perhaps you were distracted.” Hathaway glanced in her direction.

  She ducked her head and tried to calm herself so her cheeks wouldn’t match the lawyer’s ears. When she raised her eyes, she saw that the man’s gaze had been diverted to a position beside and slightly behind her. Turning to see what Hathaway was looking at, she found Annie. The maid was gazing back at him. She’d never thought Hathaway particularly handsome, but he certainly looked a lot more appealing than most of the lads of Annie’s age and class with his carefully combed hair, clean-shaven face, and refined manner.

  She beckoned Annie to step forward. “Hathaway, I’d like you to meet my maid, Annie Cullwick. Annie, as you’ve probably surmised, this is Mr. Strong’s manservant.”

  “Gilbert Hathaway at your service, miss.” He tipped his head at the young lady, then addressed Titus. “Would you mind if I spent some time at the jumble sale this afternoon, sir?”

  “Not at all. In fact, you’re supposed to have Sunday afternoons off. What you do with your time off is up to you.”

  “Thank you, sir. Would you like to show me around, Miss Cullwick? If it’s all right with Miss Wade, that is?”

  Annie’s hands couldn’t seem to stay still as she plucked at the folds in her skirt. She looked anxiously at her mistress.

  Elisabeth suppressed the urge to laugh. The two of them were so eager to get to know one another, she wouldn’t have dared to say no, even if she was inclined to, which she wasn’t. “Of course it’s all right with me. Enjoy yourself.”

  Annie’s jittery hands came to rest at her sides. A slow smile spread over her face as she spoke directly to Titus’s manservant for the first time. “Shall we take a look at the baked goods? I
thought I might find something for supper.”

  Hathaway held out his arm for her, and the two headed off, having forgotten their employers entirely.

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?” Elisabeth asked without thinking.

  Titus looked as if he might be choking, and she immediately realized what she’d said. This time, she stood no chance of her face remaining its normal shade of ivory. “Oh, I didn’t mean that. Well, I did mean it, but not… “ She’d been about to add “not about us,” but didn’t dare bring into the open the fragile state of their relationship. “Annie and Hathaway… from the moment they laid eyes on one another, I could see the attraction.”

  The lawyer cocked his head to one side and pursed his lips while Elisabeth’s tummy quivered as she waited for his response.

  “I’m sorry. You caught me off guard for a moment.” He paused as if carefully considering what he was going to say. “I believe in fascination at first sight, but it takes a lot more than physical attraction and a coy manner to call it love. It takes time for true love to develop between two people.” Until the last, he’d kept his eyes averted from her, but as he ended that sentence, his gaze focused on her face as if he was searching for something there. “Although I must admit, from the day you first walked into my office, I knew there was something special about you.”

  “Those are deep thoughts for such a light-hearted subject,” she said and laughed to counter the gravity of his mood. He’d already disappointed her, or perhaps she’d disappointed him, and a bouquet of roses didn’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen again. “I think we’d better hand out those business cards before the crowd thins.”

  “You’re right,” he said and led the way to the first booth, which held an assortment of pastries from the bakery.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Abbott. Did the hungry hordes leave anything for the rest of us?” Titus asked.