Phil looked from Sheffield to Godfrey. Something was going on here that she didn’t understand. Something bigger than Perry impregnating his daughter and her subsequent death. More than revenge.
“Mr. Sheffield, you can’t stay in hiding. The police are looking for you.” Phil paused. He had a wild look about him. He had no intention of talking to the police.
She swallowed. “What exactly is going on here?”
The two men looked at each other as if trying to decide telepathically what to do with her. She took the opportunity to slide her hand into her pocket and grasp the pistol’s stock.
Both men turned toward her, but not before the pistol was aimed at a point somewhere between them.
Sheffield reared back in his chair. Godfrey just stared at her, not the pistol. After a moment he shook his head. “I knew you must be more than Gwen’s concerned friend. But you didn’t come up on any lists. What exactly do you want?”
To stay alive? “I am a concerned friend. A man was murdered in Gwen’s home. A man who I’m told was expected to marry Agnes. You men will go on about business and whatever else you do. But Gwen is stuck having to face society while she attempts to save her daughter’s future. Women must stick together in these times.”
Heavens, she’d sounded just as vehement as Daisy when she was spouting her socialist ideas. And for the first time, Phil understood a little of how she must feel.
“Perhaps you were trying to save Agnes from the same fate as Rachel and decided to take the matter into your own hands.”
Sheffield’s mouth dropped open. “Who told you about Rachel? Not my wife.”
“What are you talking about?” Godfrey asked.
“Not your wife, but Mrs. Kidmore-Young.”
Godfrey turned on Sheffield. “What the hell is she talking about, Isaac?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Sheffield choked out the words. “It’s nothing to do with that. I didn’t kill him. We did argue that night. That was all.
“I had discovered what he’d done—” His head swiveled toward Phil. “Not what he’d done to my daughter, but what he’d done to the company. I swear he was alive when I left.”
The company. “Fauks Copper, Coal and Steel?” asked Phil.
“Yes. I didn’t kill him. I would never do that to his family.”
“I believe you, Isaac. I think, if Lady Dunbridge will put down her weapon, we might apprise her of the situation.”
Now here was a dilemma. Should Phil take chances with her own survival to get information? Mr. You’re-on-Your-Own might be out there ready to come to the rescue, but he might just as well be on his way to God knew where.
But the fact that he’d been here at all meant something serious besides murder was going on.
She lowered the pistol, but didn’t let go of it. “All right. Tell me what this is all about.”
“Please sit down,” Godfrey said.
She hesitated.
“So that I can.”
She sat. Godfrey pulled up a chair from the corner and sat down. It gave Phil a second to quickly look around. It was more than one room, though they appeared to be in a combination sitting room and kitchen. It was comfortably furnished, though only one lamp sat in the middle of the table to light their conversation. And as far as she could see, there was only one door.
“Go ahead,” she prodded Sheffield.
He ran his hand down his face. “As you probably know, the banking crisis was narrowly avoided, thanks to J.P. Morgan.”
“Yes,” she said a little impatiently. “I understand that he was instrumental in getting banks and others to put up funds to keep things from failing.”
“Yes, but not soon enough to save the Knickerbocker bank or many smaller trust companies.”
“Fauks?” she asked.
“No. We would have been fine. We were on solid financial ground.” He glanced at Godfrey.
“I had just returned from D.C.” He blinked several times. “Anyway, while I was out of town … in … talks.” Sheffield continued, “Perry managed to hijack a major portion of the company’s ready cash. When I learned about it, I confronted him at Agnes’s party. He was in a panic. He—”
“Mr. Sheffield,” Phil interjected. “Will you please just tell me what happened, and tell me the truth. Obviously there is something you and Mr. Bennington want to keep from me. I’d like to know what is going on. Gwen is very upset, and that is not good for her health. So the sooner we can put this all behind us, the better for everyone.
“I surmise Perry stole the funds and I’m guessing that you haven’t been able to retrieve them?”
Sheffield hung his head. Shook it twice. “He’d heard that the government was about to award a big contract for steel to supply the War Department’s new aeroplane program. He wanted to show everyone what a big shot he was.
“He used the company’s money to invest in a short-sale scheme. He thought he could buy enough of a competitor’s stock to make it big on his own. He used Fauks company money, convinced his friends and associates to invest in a ‘sure thing.’
“But the stock tanked before he could sell out and he’d lost everything.
“It’s gone, truly gone, and I don’t know how many other people he took with him.”
He shuddered. “And the worst thing was that while he was looting the company, I was in talks for one of those contracts.”
Phil looked at Godfrey.
He returned what for him was a shrug. “Now we have both been burned by that arrogant little … Well, never mind.”
And Daisy had come to New York to sell her Mexican mines to Perry and invest in his “scheme.” She was one of the fortunate ones as it turned out. Daisy and Harry Cleeves.
But how many others had not been so lucky?
“He had to have had insider knowledge of the contract,” Godfrey said. “We kept it under wraps to prevent a feeding frenzy of little companies that really couldn’t come up to scratch. As it is, with two of the most promising companies headed to bankruptcy, we’ll have to start the search over. A major setback, as the department and the Wright brothers are in negotiations for building the planes. We need to have a supplier in place to be able to start production. You can see the ramifications if all this was to become public.”
She did. What she couldn’t quite imagine was aeroplanes in the hands of the War Department. War with aeroplanes? Phil didn’t want to contemplate what they would do to fighting nations.
Phil dragged her mind back to the man sitting across from her. “So you confronted him.”
“Yes. He was in a panic. I told him not to show his face at the company until I returned. I left the party and went straight to Pittsburgh to evaluate the situation there. He’d forged my signature on a financial transfer document, though I’m sure he must have had someone working with him, an accomplice, perhaps in the Pittsburgh office. It would be complicated to not raise a red flag with that kind of transaction. I have people on it, but I need more time to try to save the company.
“And I need time to find out who leaked the information to him about the contract.
“The fool,” Sheffield cried. “Fauks Copper, Coal and Steel is cleaned out. We’ll go under as soon as word gets out and there’s a run on the company. It won’t be long. Word has already hit the wires. It’s just a matter of time.”
The wires. The news had already hit. The ticker tape machine in Luther’s office. The scrap of ticker tape in Perry’s wastepaper basket. The piece that had fallen to the floor when Thomas had put on his overcoat just the night before.
“Unless we can figure out something to squelch the sell-off,” Godfrey added.
“I’m afraid it may be too late.” Isaac seemed to age in front of them, a totally broken man. He too had lost in Perry’s reckless dealings. And where would that leave his poor wife?
Godfrey pushed his chair back from the table. “So now you know what Isaac and I were discussing when we heard your knock at the door.”
&nbs
p; Her knock? She hadn’t made a sound. And then it dawned on her.
That weasel. He’d wanted them to find her.
* * *
Over the course of the next few minutes, Godfrey and Sheffield convinced Phil to give them twenty-four hours to staunch the bloodletting, with the promise that Sheffield would then turn himself in to the police. He swore again he hadn’t committed the murder.
And having heard his story she might have been sympathetic if he had.
Perry Fauks had betrayed his company’s, his family’s, and his investors’ trusts. Had lost everything for a wild speculation. And if what Phil had learned about Perry’s relationship with Sheffield’s daughter was true, Sheffield would have every right to feel the need for revenge.
But he also seemed like an honest man who cared about his family and his business. When Godfrey swore he would vouch for him, she acquiesced. There was little else she could do. She was in the middle of a debilitating fog at the home of a very secretive man and without her allies, who were either up at the house, back in Manhattan, or who knew where.
“All right. Twenty-four hours. Then we, the three of us, must tell Detective Sergeant Atkins. He’s not a stupid man. He’ll understand the more subtle aspects of your situation and he will be able to use the information you have to catch the real killer.”
* * *
Phil and Godfrey returned to the house some time later. They didn’t speak; it took all their concentration to find their way back through the fog.
At last Phil saw lights from the mansion and realized the fog had gotten thinner.
Inside was ablaze with light, and they hastened toward the warmth. The front door opened and Tillis hurried them in.
Phil saw immediately that something was wrong.
“What is it, Tillis?” Godfrey asked.
“Mrs. Pratt, sir. Having one of her attacks.”
Luther and Daisy were holding a slumping Gwen between them, walking her toward the back of the house.
Agnes, Harry, Newty, and the others were huddled in the doorway of the parlor looking worried.
Gwen managed to glance over her shoulder. Looked straight at Phil. Opened her mouth as if to speak.
Phil hurried toward her.
“Fine,” Gwen said.
She was not fine and Phil wondered if the weather or something else had set off her asthma.
“Must fine…” Gwen pushed feebly at Luther’s arm.
Not “fine.” Must find? Find what? “Don’t worry,” Phil told her. “You can tell me when you’re breathing better.”
Phil slipped in beside Daisy. “Has Elva gone to start the nebulizer?”
“It’s missing. They’ve looked everywhere.”
Missing? How could such an important piece of equipment be missing? Was Gwen in danger? Is that what she was trying to say?
“They sent her maid to burn some kind of powders. She’s setting it up in the morning room.”
They were nearly at the door when a frightening wail went up from inside. At first long and shrill, then ululating like some otherworldly creature.
The door rattled as if someone was trying to get out, then it flung open. The acrid smell of the inhalant filled the air. Elva staggered, grabbed the doorframe, and looked wildly around. With an ear-splitting scream, her arms flew out, her hands curving like claws, and she staggered backward into the room.
“What the hell?” Godfrey pushed around them and hurried through the door.
Phil started to follow, felt a wave of dizziness. “Get her away,” she cried. “Everyone get away from … door. Now.”
She was vaguely aware of Daisy grabbing Gwen around the waist, she and Luther dragging her back down the hall. Clever Daisy, Phil thought before the hall began to swim before her.
Godfrey had gone inside. She had to warn him. She buried her nose in the fabric of her sleeve and followed him inside.
And nearly tripped over Elva’s body.
The smell was stronger, biting at the fabric that covered her face. Her eyes filled with tears. Godfrey had taken his handkerchief to his nose. He made his way to the smoking vaporizer, turned off the burner, and swept the dish and its contents to the floor.
Motioned her back.
He wavered in front of her, stretched and bent and writhed like some demon. Colors danced wildly inside her head, the plants seemed to waver then explode from their bases, twist and coil in the air. And on the floor at her feet, a figure melted and spread across the tiles.
And Phil’s mind said, Poison.
Then Godfrey was at her side. They bent as one, grabbed Elva by the arms and dragged her into the hall.
Godfrey kicked the door closed and took over dragging Elva away from the room. Phil swayed on her feet but managed to follow him. He didn’t stop until they were in the foyer, then he dropped his burden and threw open the front doors to outside. The fog swirled in and so did fresh air.
Phil grabbed for the door to keep from falling, her mind reeling, her body not her own. The floor looked so far away. She shrank back as a metal monster grew and reached toward her.
This is not real, someone told her. Not Godfrey, but herself. Her real self.
The door to the parlor opened.
“Stay inside,” yelled Godfrey. The door slammed. He ordered Tillis to seal off the sitting room and open the windows of all the other rooms, then to send all the servants down to the kitchen.
His voice seemed very strange. Warped, like a phonograph record left in the sun. Phil listened, mesmerized, as she clung to the door and breathed in the fresh cold air.
Her surroundings gradually settled back into Godfrey’s foyer.
The set of armor at the base of the stairs no longer tried to tear itself from its base.
“Aaaare yoou all riiiiight?” His voice still sounded as if he were down a well.
She nodded. “Yes. You?”
“Fine.”
Fine. The world righted itself. Gwen. And then she remembered Elva still lying on the marble floor at their feet.
Godfrey knelt down. Felt the woman’s wrist for a pulse, tried again at her neck. He lifted her shoulders, shook her, gently at first, then more violently. Called her name. Slapped her face. She did not rouse.
Godfrey looked up at Phil from where he knelt by the body.
The world was crystal clear now and Phil didn’t need words to know Elva was dead.
Vincent bounded up the front steps and through the open door. “Good God. What happened?” If a pale man could grow paler, Vincent did.
“Poison,” Godfrey said. “Some hallucinogen.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s dead.”
Vincent seemed to sway on his feet, or maybe it was just the residual poison in Phil’s bloodstream. “How could this happen? She didn’t take drugs, did she?”
“Not intentionally,” Godfrey said and looked at Phil. “Vincent, where have you been?”
“Out to the garage. It seems Mrs. Pratt’s nebulizer is missing. I thought it might have been left in the auto by mistake.”
“Ah,” Godfrey said, and said no more.
And Phil thought they were thinking the same thing. Was this a terrible accident? And if it wasn’t, had the intended victim been Gwen, not Elva.
Tillis returned. “The staff is all belowstairs, sir. I’ve told them to stay where they are.”
“Very good, Tillis. I’m afraid that there has been a terrible tragedy.”
“I can see that, sir. Shall I cover her?”
Godfrey nodded and the butler strode down the hallway as if producing a shroud were as ordinary as retrieving a guest’s coat from the closet. Phil doubted that her own butler would be able to maintain such sangfroid.
“Vincent, please join us in the parlor.” Godfrey offered Phil his arm and they went inside.
Gwen was lying on the couch. At a table near her head, a small case was opened showing what looked like glass ampules. Daisy cradled her shoulders as Luther held a syringe w
ith a wicked-looking needle.
Phil grasped at Godfrey’s arm.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Godfrey asked.
“I keep it locked in my valise,” Luther said. “It’s only for the most serious emergencies. It’s very powerful.” He looked at the syringe, suddenly indecisive.
Gwen scratched at his arm. “Luther, please.”
He slid the needle into her vein and pushed the plunger, releasing the medication.
Phil held her breath, watched Gwen’s breathing gradually even out. A deep breath, and Gwen said, “Thank you.”
Daisy stood and came to stand beside Phil. “I checked the ampule to see if it had been opened or cracked. It seemed safe.” She moved Phil a little away from the group and asked in a low voice, “Is the maid dead?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think it was an accident?”
Phil shook her head.
“You think they were after Gwen? Who would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know,” Phil said. “But I intend to find out.”
Gwen was breathing easier now, but Luther refused to let her sit up.
She reached out toward Phil and Daisy and they came to her side.
“Elva?”
Phil shook her head. She found it hard to speak.
“Oh.” Gwen’s mouth crumpled. “She wanted to tell me something. I was short-tempered with her. I was afraid she was going to quit because of the murder. I should have listened. I should have found out what she was afraid of. And now it’s too late.”
“Don’t upset yourself,” Luther begged. “Lady Dunbridge will take care of everything.” He cast a plaintive look toward Phil.
“Of course I will,” she said, but this new murder left her even more confused. And it felt like time was running out.
“Why did this happen?” asked Gwen.
“I don’t know.” Phil just knew she was angry. Whoever the murderer was must be stopped, unequivocally and without delay. It looked like it was up to her alone to see justice done. And Lady Dunbridge was more than happy to oblige.
22
Godfrey took Phil aside. “How are you feeling?”
Tell Me No Lies Page 25
