Sheffield’s words came back to Phil. He must have had an accomplice.
Perry had lost the company funds, because someone had taken advantage of his näiveté. Promised a sure thing? Not Sheffield. He’d been trying to save the company. Were Perry and Thomas both caught up in the fraudulent stock manipulation?
The newcomer was now screaming at Thomas. His anger had attracted the attention of others and a knot of men surrounded the two men. The excitement of the crowd turned ominous, the balloon launch forgotten by all but the two pilots preparing for the ascension.
Godfrey gestured to several guards, who hurried toward the altercation that was rapidly degenerating into a brawl, as the balloon swelled behind the crowd. The man pushed Thomas, who staggered back.
Suddenly Thomas screamed out, “To hell with you! Leave me alone! I didn’t do anything.”
His voice was strident, almost hysterical. Phil had heard him scream like that once before—the day he’d been chastising his daughters for spending so much money. Elva had jumped and dropped a glass vase, then behaved strangely afterward. Not because she’d broken something but because she’d recognized the voice. The same voice raised in anger that she’d heard arguing with Perry before he was killed.
It had to be that. Until that moment in the foyer when Thomas had yelled at the girls, she might not have been certain who that voice had belonged to. And after that … She knew who had killed Perry. That was why she’d been acting so nervous.
Oh Elva, why hadn’t you confided in someone? Because they were family? Because she was afraid they would side with their own over the word of a servant?
She’d tried to get money from Vincent so that she could flee. And when that didn’t work she’d left a message for him wrapped around the murder weapon, because he of all of them might understand. But understand what? How could a torn piece of ticker tape point to a murderer?
Elva would never be able to tell them now. Or could she? Phil thought back. She had to be missing something. Finding the letter opener. The ticker tape wrapped around the handle. The ticker tape in Perry’s wastepaper basket. The ticker tape with Vincent’s initials. The ticker tape falling out of Thomas’s sleeve as he hurried to leave with Max.
Columbia Copper Company. CCC. He and Perry must have fought that night, and Thomas had killed him. He’d been in the deal all along.
Of course. Today, with one angry confrontation from a man Thomas had cheated, it all fell into place.
She needed to find John Atkins. Who she found was Daisy, and she remembered the day she’d met her in the Plaza running from the journalists. She was supposed to meet Perry and another man. Not Sheffield, and certainly not Godfrey—she wouldn’t have forgotten Godfrey’s name.
They hadn’t met, but they were supposed to have at the Plaza’s tearoom with Perry, the day after Perry was killed. Not Sheffield, but Thomas Jeffrey.
Godfrey was striding toward the group. “Gentlemen!” he commanded.
Thomas saw him and began backing away from the crowd. Past his wife and children, who were staring in disbelief. His head swiveled but there was nowhere to go. The crowd stood between him and the automobiles. The ocean lapped at the far side of the field.
Phil raced to Godfrey. “I think he killed Perry and Elva!”
The second balloon began to rise, but no one was paying attention.
Thomas turned toward the field, and Phil knew in that instant what he was going to do. It was his only chance.
The balloon began its ascent, the basket skimming along inches above the grasses. Thomas ran faster; he was several feet away when the basket lifted off the ground. He threw himself at it and held on as the balloon rose into the air.
The crowd became silent. All eyes watching the spectacle of Thomas hanging onto the side of the basket.
Phil lifted her field glasses, trained them on the balloon.
The pilots were pulling Thomas into the basket.
Godfrey’s men had reached the balloon and were attempting to drag it down, to no avail. The two pilots couldn’t help. They were standing upright, their hands in the air. Thomas held a pistol. Aimed at them.
As if he felt Phil watching him, he turned, fired. A report rang out and a clump of sod exploded at Phil’s feet.
Someone screamed.
“He’ll blow them to smithereens!”
The crowd shrank back with a collective gasp. Except for Phil, who started forward.
Her arm was grabbed. “Stay put,” Atkins ordered.
“But he killed Perry and Elva. I’m sure of it.”
Godfrey hurried up to them.
“Where is it going?” Atkins asked.
“No telling now. It always depended on wind currents but with him giving the orders, there’s no telling.”
Phil looked up at the sky. The first balloon was a mere dot, traveling north over the Sound, but Thomas’s seemed to be veering southwest.
“I have a unit standing by near Foggy Acres,” Atkins said.
“Lieutenant Carlton, take the detective sergeant to the radio room. You do have communications?”
Atkins nodded and the two men hurried away.
“This is ridiculous,” Phil said. “He’s getting away. We’ll have to follow it.” She ran toward the Packard. She wasn’t surprised to see Preswick and Lily waiting there for her.
Preswick started them up and they shot down the road. As she drove away, Phil heard other engines start up behind her.
“How are we going to catch it?” Lily yelled. “It doesn’t have to stay on the roads.”
“We’ll just keep it in sight and leave the rest to Godfrey and his men.”
They came to a fork in the road. “Which way?” Phil yelled.
“To your right, my lady.” Preswick pointed to the sky.
Phil swung the Packard into the turn. They all toppled to the side until she straightened up again.
When she looked again, the balloon had disappeared.
Phil kept driving; there was little else she could do at this point, except give up, and that she refused to do.
“There it is,” cried Lily.
Phil saw the top of the balloon rise above the trees, before it disappeared again.
She turned again. Onto a familiar road. “We need reinforcements.” She accelerated and barreled down the highway with Preswick and Lily clinging to the sides of the car and Phil clinging to the steering wheel.
The road curved slightly to the right and Phil recognized the drive to Holly Farm up ahead. She pressed on the brake and made the turn to the farmhouse in a cloud of dust.
She didn’t slow down at the house but drove straight to the stable. Several men came out of the paddock.
The balloon was in their sights, seemed to be going right over their heads. She’d hoped it would land on the track as it had the other time that had upset Bobby so much. Indeed, he was coming out of the office at a run.
But the balloon lifted again and floated toward the woods.
Phil slammed on the brakes, and the Packard screeched to a stop. “Bobby, the balloon! A killer is escaping.”
Bobby’s mouth opened as he looked up at the sky and scratched his head, then looked back at Phil. “He’s in that contraption?”
“Yes.”
“Want me to shoot it down?”
“No! It will explode and there are two pilots with him.”
“Huh.” Bobby raised his arm. “Well, fellas, what’re you waiting for. Get those work nags out and go after ’em. Not the thoroughbreds. Mrs. Reynolds’ll have my head if they get hurt. Jaime, take the truck.”
“Come on, your lady, I’ll show you how to drive over rough ground.” Bobby jumped into the back of the Packard. “Follow that track around to the back. Ground’s hard there.”
Seconds later four jockeys were galloping toward the woods.
Phil and her passengers bounced along a rutted farm track that led into the woods.
“Steady,” Bobby yelled. “Straight, straight
, it’s gonna curve to the right.”
Phil gripped the steering wheel, willing the Packard not to veer from the narrow passage. Silently apologized to Bev each time a branch scraped along the sides. At last they drove out of the trees into a small field where two of the jockeys had stopped and were looking at the sky.
Phil slowed the Packard.
Another jockey returned to the field. “Lost it, Bobby. Sorry.”
They were all searching the sky but there was no balloon in sight.
“Where’d it go?” Bobby asked.
“Musta crashed somewhere. You want us to spread out and look for it?”
“I think it went down over there.” One of the jockeys pointed to the left.
“No, I saw it go in that direction,” said another, and broke into a string of Spanish.
“What do you want us to do?”
“Heck, it could be anywhere,” Bobby said. “And I can’t use the other horses, they wouldn’t know what to do if they ain’t on a track.”
“Of course not,” said Phil.
“They could go on foot, but—”
A sound of an engine overhead stopped his speech. They all looked up.
“Holy cow,” Bobby said. “What the heck is that?”
One of the jockeys made the sign of the cross.
“It’s an aeroplane,” Phil said. “Lily, get my field glasses.” She realized they were still around her neck. She lifted them to get a closer look.
“Where did it come from?” Bobby twisted around to follow its motion.
The aeroplane dove and lifted then tilted and turned to come back the way it had come, but instead of passing overhead, it turned again, until it was flying in a circle one, two, three times.
“What is it up to?”
“He’s showing us to the balloon,” Phil shouted.
“Don’t know if the auto will make it,” Bobby said. “You know how to ride?”
“Bobby, I’m a countess.”
“Rico, give the lady countess here your horse.”
Rico slid from the saddle. “It’s not side, lady.”
“Not a problem,” Phil said. “Give me a leg up, Bobby.”
Bobby laced his fingers and braced himself. “Turn your heads, boys.” And he hoisted Phil into the saddle.
“Follow that aeroplane.” Thank heavens for split skirts, Phil thought as they galloped away.
They found the balloon crashed at the edge of a hillock dangling in the trees. The two pilots were standing next to the balloon trying to untangle the moorings from the basket.
“We confiscated his weapon,” one of them called. “He’s over there by that tree.” He went back to assessing the damage.
Thomas lay on the ground, holding his shoulder and trying ineffectually to get up and away.
The jockeys slid off the horses and grabbed the desperate man. Phil stayed put. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her.
Overhead the aeroplane came back for a final pass.
Phil lifted her field glasses as the plane dipped and Godfrey Bennington saluted her before lifting the nose and flying off into the sky.
28
“Now what do we do?” Phil wondered aloud to Bobby as they watched the jockeys tie Thomas’s wrists and ankles and carry him back to the field where they’d left the Packard. Once there they decided that Bobby would drive the Packard back to the farm, and they tossed Thomas in the backseat, where he fell over to his side like a trussed turkey.
“I’ll just ride back to the farm,” Phil told Bobby. She wasn’t sure she wouldn’t fall off the horse trying to dismount and end up on her derriere in the dirt. This riding astride would take some getting used to.
But back at the farm she managed a respectable dismount and didn’t feel too bad in the scheme of things. She and Bobby stood in the yard looking over their captive.
“He didn’t actually confess to murder; so far he’s just guilty of stealing a government balloon.”
“I could give him some motivation to talk,” Bobby said, flexing his chubby fingers.
“Thank you, but I don’t think the detective sergeant would agree.”
“Naw, he wouldn’t, and where is he by the by? Shouldn’t he be doing some arresting?”
“I imagine he’s on his way. Shouldn’t be long now.”
And indeed only another few minutes passed before a cavalcade of vehicles drove up the Holly Farm drive.
Godfrey’s Daimler led the way. And Phil wondered at the alacrity at which he’d flown back to the balloon field, and then driven to Holly Farm. Flying was definitely the way to travel, except for the terrible accident that Orville Wright had suffered a few years before.
That aside, she wouldn’t mind trying out the controls of an aeroplane someday.
Godfrey stopped at the paddock, and John Atkins brought the Panhard et Levassor to stop beside the Daimler.
Daisy, Harry, and Morris all piled out of Godfrey’s car and hurried toward Bobby and Phil.
“Lord, what a day,” Daisy said. “I haven’t had this much excitement in years. And I must say your inspector certainly has a dashing car.”
“It belongs to the department,” Phil said. She watched as Atkins left his car, not even slowing down for a thank-you as he made his way directly to the Packard and Thomas Jeffrey. He leaned over the prisoner and seemed to be talking to him, though Phil couldn’t hear what was said.
Obviously she needed to be closer.
“Excuse me, Daisy.” Phil strode over to where Atkins was hopefully wringing a confession from Jeffery. But he’d stood and was talking to one of the jockeys.
Phil came up beside him. “What did he say?”
Atkins glanced at her. “That he wanted his lawyer.”
“Did he confess to murder?”
“I didn’t ask him.”
“Why?”
“Lack of evidence so far.”
“You’re hoping for a confession? We have evidence. He brokered the deal with Columbia Copper. He and Perry must have fought—”
“‘Must have’ isn’t ‘did,’” Atkins returned, only half listening. What was he thinking about? Making a plan? What? He could be so infuriating.
“Thumbscrews?” she quipped.
“Hmm,” he said and returned to the prisoner.
She hurried after him. “We do have evidence of sorts. Maybe not evidence exactly but clues.”
She was distracted by the sound of more vehicles, then doors slamming. Luther and Gwen climbed out of one, Ruth and Effie and Maud got out of the second vehicle. A third was a gray, imposing-looking van. Godfrey motioned it forward and it stopped, blocking the drive back to the road.
Preventing a car chase? Phil wondered wryly.
Godfrey turned to Atkins. “The van will extricate the equipment from the basket. Then they will transport the prisoner to Foggy Acres for questioning. I’ll be able to accommodate your prisoner there until you can arrange to have him transported to jail.
“Don’t worry, Detective Sergeant, once the government debriefs him over this situation—he’s all yours. I suggest we all make our way back to Foggy Acres for supper. You too, Detective Sergeant. You’ll join us while you wait for a detail to arrive. I think we’ve all had quite enough of the outdoors for one day.”
Phil thought Atkins might argue, but he just clamped his teeth together and watched as two men in military uniforms untied Thomas’s ankles and escorted him to the van.
Gwen had been supporting her sister as they watched, but Ruth broke away when she saw Thomas being led to the van. She ran toward her husband.
“What’s going on?”
“Sorry, ma’am,” one of the guards said and gently set her aside.
Luther wrapped an arm around her waist. “Enough, Ruth. Come away.”
Gwen came up to support her sister’s other side. “Do as he says, Ruth. We’d all like to hear what Thomas has to say. I’m sure the detective sergeant would not deny us that opportunity.”
They al
l looked at Atkins; he had gone a shade whiter but he kept his feelings to himself.
Thomas was put in the van. The Pratts returned to the automobile. Godfrey accompanied the guards to the van.
“Could you give a girl a lift?” Daisy asked Atkins in her best dance hall girl imitation.
He tried not to smile, but Daisy wasn’t the most beautiful woman in England for nothing. And though she was probably a good ten years his senior, he couldn’t resist. “It would be my pleasure,” he said, smiling at Daisy. The look he shot Phil dared her not to comment.
* * *
They all met back at Foggy Acres. Gwen immediately sent the girls upstairs to rest and dress for dinner. They didn’t want to go. Maud and Effie were worried about their father and Agnes was worried about Vincent. Gwen held firm and waited at the bottom of the stairs until they disappeared down the hall.
The rest of them stopped in the parlor to indulge in a pre-prandial cocktail before changing for dinner. Besides, no one wanted to miss the moment when Godfrey returned with the miscreant in tow. Even Atkins, who had accepted a whiskey after cajoling from Daisy, stood at the window, looking over the others.
“What do they think he did?” Ruth wailed at regular intervals, until Phil wanted to tell her, but she held her tongue.
Phil was certain now that Thomas had been the broker of the deal that bankrupted Fauks Copper, Coal and Steel, and probably others, too. She was fairly certain he’d also killed Perry Fauks. And if he’d put his own money in the deal, there were more distasteful surprises to come.
“Why don’t I take you upstairs,” Gwen said. “Luther has something he wants to tell you.” She glanced toward her husband, who was standing in the doorway.
Phil and Daisy exchanged glances. What next?
“No. I’m going to stay here until someone tells me what this is all about.”
“I really think you should go with Luther.”
Ruth lifted her chin.
“You’re broke,” Luther said, ruthlessly. “There, now you know. Gwen wanted to spare you the humiliation of learning this in front of our friends, but you have never listened to reason. I don’t know why Gwen, good soul that she is, thought you would now.”
Tell Me No Lies Page 32
