City of Secrets

by Victoria Thompson

  “No harder than usual. My mother has been keeping me busy, though.” By continuing to invite Elizabeth to their home, but he didn’t say that.

  “She spends a lot of time with Elizabeth, doesn’t she?”

  Did he sound bitter? Jealous? No, just curious. “Yes, she does. I think she enjoys having a protégée.”

  “Anna used to fill that role, but lately, she’s been occupying her time with literary salons.”

  “You sound like you disapprove.”

  David frowned and was saved from having to reply by the arrival of the waiter with their drinks.

  When the waiter had gone, David said, “She wants to go to college.”

  Since when? “Anna? Really?”

  “She thinks she’ll have to make her own way in the world, and she wants to have a profession.”

  Had Anna told her family of her intention to remain single? “That seems very sensible of her.”

  “Sensible? She’s barely twenty. She’ll probably be married before the year is out.”

  So she hadn’t told them, and it certainly wasn’t his place to explain Anna’s reasons to her family. “Not with all the eligible young men being sent to Europe.”

  “I suppose that might slow her down a bit, but the war won’t last much longer once our boys get over there.”

  They could only hope. “What kind of profession does Anna want to train for?”

  “Teaching, I think. Or maybe social work. She changes her mind daily.”

  “Maybe you should let her go. She’s a smart girl. She’d be a good teacher.”

  “My sister will never have to earn her own living.”

  Gideon raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Have you suddenly come into a fortune and didn’t bother to mention it to me?”

  David looked suitably humbled. “Of course not, but you can’t think I’d make her get a job, even if she never marries. I’ll always take care of her.”

  “Maybe she wants to do something worthwhile with her life.”

  “You sound like a suffragist.”

  “And Anna is one.”

  David sighed. “Maybe you’re right. It can’t hurt, can it?”

  “No, it can’t.” Gideon decided to change the subject. “I’ve been thinking about poor Jenks lately.”

  “Jenks?” David echoed with a wince. “Poor devil. And to think it could have been any one of us.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Don’t you? That concrete beast could have fallen at any time.”

  “Maybe so, but how often have you stood outside the club in that particular spot?”

  David opened his mouth to reply and then closed it with a snap. “What are you getting at?”

  “Answer my question first.”

  David rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever stood outside the club in that particular spot or in any other particular spot, come to think of it.”

  “We all thought he must have been waiting for a cab, but that isn’t where you’d stand if you were watching for one, is it?”

  “No, it isn’t, now that you say it. The driver would never see you so close to the building in the dark. You’d have to stand out by the curb.”

  “And if he’d been standing by the curb, the gargoyle wouldn’t have hit him. So why was he standing where he was standing?”

  “You might as well ask why the gargoyle fell when he was standing there. It was just a horrible coincidence.”

  “Were you here that night?”

  David nodded. “I left before it happened, though.”

  “Everyone left before it happened, from what they said. Did you speak to Jenks that night?”

  “Just to say hello.”

  “How did he seem?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t pay any attention. If I’d known what was going to happen, I might have, I guess, but I didn’t.”

  “Did you notice him drinking more than usual?”

  “I don’t pay attention to how much people drink, but he shouldn’t have been overindulging. Honesdale was with him, after all.”

  Every one of Gideon’s nerves sprang to life. “Honesdale? Peter Honesdale?”

  “Do we know any other Honesdale?”

  Gideon did, of course. “I’d forgotten he’s a member.”

  “He hardly ever comes,” David said, finishing his drink and signaling for another. “Ministers have all sorts of responsibilities in the evenings, I’m told.”

  “Was anyone else with Jenks?”

  “Not that I saw, but I wasn’t here all evening. And what does it matter? Tom told everyone Jenks was the last to leave.”

  “And that he was drunk,” Gideon added thoughtfully. Maybe Tom was the one he should be questioning.

  “Yes, it was a sad business, but there’s nothing to be done except take down the other gargoyles, which we already did. Say, I’ve been wondering . . .”

  “Wondering what?” Gideon asked when David hesitated.

  David glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention. No one was. Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “General Sterling sent me a bank draft.”

  “General Sterling?” Gideon echoed in amazement, since General Sterling did not really exist. He was just someone Elizabeth’s father had pretended to be so they could cheat a very evil man out of his fortune. David didn’t know that, though. “Are you sure it was he?”

  “I assume so. It was for the same amount as my commission would have been on the, uh, transaction. I was wondering if you’d received your payment as well.”

  “You were supposed to pay my fee,” Gideon reminded him with just a trace of sarcasm and David had the grace to flush.

  “Oh yes, right you are. I’d forgotten. I’ll take care of that at once.”

  “But you got paid. How interesting.” More than interesting. Did Elizabeth know? Or perhaps a better question was, did General Sterling know?

  “I thought Sterling would go to jail for his part in the scheme, and surely, he didn’t see any profit after the government confiscated the, uh . . .” He glanced around again. “. . . merchandise.”

  “I suppose you should just be grateful and not ask too many questions.” Which was as close as Gideon wanted to come to explaining anything.

  “I suppose you’re right. I never saw anything in the newspapers about it, so I imagine the army kept everything quiet.”

  That would have been easy, since the army knew nothing about it.

  The waiter brought David a fresh drink and Gideon refused a second one. He needed to talk to Tom, and he wanted to be sober when he did.

  * * *

  • • •

  “OH, MR. BATES, I DIDN’T REALIZE YOU WERE STILL HERE,” TOM said later. He’d obviously come into the card room with the intention of tidying up.

  “I hope I haven’t kept you later than usual.”

  “Oh no, sir, and don’t let me hurry you off.”

  “Actually, I was waiting to talk to you.”

  “Me, sir? I hope you haven’t found the service unsatisfactory.”

  “Not at all. I’ve just been thinking about poor DeForrest Jenks, and I realized I didn’t know exactly how his accident happened.”

  Tom shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. “There wasn’t much to it, sir. I mean, except for him dying, which was a tragedy, sure enough. He was waiting outside for a cab and the cursed gargoyle fell off the side of the building.”

  “Did you have any reason to suspect it might be loose?”

  “Not at all, sir, and a lot of people asked us that. We inspected all the others, too, after it happened, and they were still bolted on tight as you please. Of course, the board had them removed just the same. They said nobody would come near the building again until we did.”

&
nbsp; “Did you see Mr. Jenks out that night?”

  He frowned, uncomfortable with this question as he had not been with the others. “I . . . Not exactly, sir.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Tom glanced over his shoulder, as if afraid someone might be lurking there, listening. “I saw him when I came around to check the rooms just after midnight. He was right over there.” He indicated the chair in which David had been sitting. “He was asleep, and I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I just left him. I figured he’d wake up before long, and if he didn’t, I’d give him a shake when I was finished with my work.”

  “And did you have to wake him?”

  “No, sir. I made sure to make some loud noises when I was cleaning up the other rooms, to give him a chance, you know, and when I came back here, he was gone.”

  “You’re sure? He left on his own, then?”

  “He must have. Like I said, he was the last one here. The cook and the waiters had gone. We were the only two here.”

  “Did you see him outside when you left?”

  “I always go out the back, after I’ve locked all the doors, so I wouldn’t have seen him.”

  “And I suppose the gargoyle fell after you’d left.”

  “Oh yes. They said it was after one o’clock. Some people in the area heard it fall, but they didn’t know where the noise came from and it was dark, so nobody found him until the beat cop came by an hour or more later. It was a terrible thing, sir.”

  “Yes, it was. When they removed the other gargoyles, did you supervise them, Tom?”

  “Me? Oh no, sir. Mr. Knight did that.”

  Gideon’s nerves began to tingle again. “Mr. Knight? You mean Endicott Knight?”

  “Yes, sir. He was the club president then, so it was his responsibility.”

  “I see. Do you know the name of the company who removed them?”

  “No, sir, but I’m sure I can find out for you.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Tom. Thank you for your help.” He slipped Tom a generous tip and waved away his gratitude.

  “Oh, one more thing,” Gideon said when they had moved to the foyer and Tom had helped him into his overcoat and opened the front door for him. “Do you remember if Mr. Jenks had been drinking heavily that night?”

  “A lot of people asked me that, too, but I really couldn’t say. I don’t serve the drinks, you see. He had seven or eight drinks charged to his bill that night, but he could’ve been treating his friends. Our members do that, and Mr. Jenks wasn’t one to overindulge.”

  “Did you ask the waiters?”

  “They just keep count of how many drinks to charge to each member. They don’t keep track of who drinks them, though.”

  “I don’t suppose they do. Thanks again for your help, Tom.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “OH, ELIZABETH,” PRISCILLA SAID WHEN THE MAID ANNOUNCED her. “I’m afraid I’m going to go insane sitting in this house day after day.”

  Mrs. Ordway would probably think Elizabeth was visiting the widow too often, but Priscilla obviously thought she’d done the right thing on this wintry morning. “I would have come sooner, but I wanted to have something to tell you first.”

  “And do you?” Priscilla asked hopefully.

  “I’m not sure how important it is, but yes, I do.”

  Priscilla asked her maid to bring them tea, and they sat by the fire so Elizabeth could warm herself.

  Elizabeth had thought long and hard about how much to tell Priscilla. There was no need to tell her all the gruesome details about Endicott Knight, or at least not yet. Still, Priscilla might have known more than she realized about Knight’s activities, and Elizabeth was determined to find out if she did. “We haven’t made much progress in discovering who was blackmailing Mr. Knight, but Gideon Bates did learn who owns the mortgage on your house.”

  Priscilla frowned. “Isn’t it the bank?”

  “No, it’s an individual. He said a friend asked him to help out Mr. Knight by taking the mortgage.”

  “Is it someone I know? Someone from church, perhaps? Maybe we could convince them to allow us to stay, at least for a while.”

  “The man who owns your mortgage is Matthew Honesdale.”

  “Honesdale? Don’t you mean Peter Honesdale? And that would be so kind of him, to help Endicott that way. But how would he have the funds to mortgage our house?”

  “No, not Peter. It’s definitely Matthew. It seems he’s Reverend Honesdale’s cousin.”

  “His cousin? Oh, I see. Reverend Honesdale must have asked his cousin to help Endicott.”

  “Did you know Reverend Honesdale had a cousin?”

  Priscilla considered the question. “I believe there was some talk about it. Reverend Honesdale’s parents took in an orphaned relative and raised him, I believe.”

  Elizabeth nodded. Ah yes, the typical poor relation who can never express enough gratitude to his benefactors and is therefore always considered unworthy of their generosity. That would explain Matthew Honesdale’s magnificent rebellion against his religious upbringing. “This Matthew may well be that child, then. At any rate, he holds the mortgage, and he has assured Mr. Bates that he has no intention of calling in the mortgage at this time.”

  “That’s a great relief, although I suppose it’s only a temporary one. I can’t expect him to be patient forever.”

  “No, but at least we have some time to figure out what happened.”

  “This Matthew Honesdale must be a wealthy man if he can afford to mortgage properties,” Priscilla said thoughtfully. “I suppose he isn’t a minister.”

  “No, he isn’t,” was all Elizabeth could safely say. She decided to change the subject. “Mrs. Bates and I visited Mrs. Honesdale yesterday.”

  “That’s . . . nice,” Priscilla said, obviously uncertain how she should react to this information.

  “I know you’re angry with her,” Elizabeth hastily explained, “so I wanted to get to know her a little better to see what I thought of her myself.”

  “I’m not angry exactly, but I do feel that she abused our friendship.”

  “I think you have every right to feel that way. May I ask you something in confidence? I don’t want you to think I’m a gossip or snobbish or anything like that, but have you ever noticed Mrs. Honesdale isn’t exactly . . . ? I mean, she seems to lack some of the social skills one expects of a lady in her position.”

  “Oh, Elizabeth, how diplomatic you are. If you mean, do I think she’s new money, then yes, I have noticed that.”

  “Actually, I don’t think she’s new money at all, unless marrying Reverend Honesdale made her so. She actually admitted to me that she operated a boardinghouse to support herself before she married.”

  “She did?” Priscilla was clearly flabbergasted. “I can’t imagine she would say so even if it were true.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t imagine it, either, now that she’d seen Priscilla’s reaction. “Why not?”

  “Because she’s much too proud to admit to having humble beginnings.”

  Unless, of course, her beginnings were even more humble than operating a boardinghouse. “Did she ever tell you where she’s from?”

  “Somewhere in Maryland, I believe. She was always very vague. I thought she might go with us to Washington City to protest since she’s from that area.”

  “But she’s an Anti.” The women who opposed the movement called themselves Antis.

  “Yes. I had no idea until I suggested she go with us and she expressed her feelings on the subject. Then, of course, Endicott died and I couldn’t go myself.”

  “Priscilla, you said you thought Mrs. Honesdale had abused your friendship. What did you mean exactly?”

  “I mean she used her influence to pressure me into marrying Mr. Knight when I had no intention o
f doing so.”

  “Do you think that was her intent? To pressure you, I mean, or could she have just been encouraging you because she thought you were a penniless widow and needed a rich husband?”

  Priscilla met her gaze with resolution. “I believe I told you before that my memories of that time aren’t really clear. I was so upset by DeForrest’s death that I could hardly think straight, and I blamed my distraction on my grief. But since your last visit, I’ve been going over and over that time in my mind, and I can’t believe that grief alone would have made me so malleable.”

  “I’m sure Mrs. Honesdale can be very persuasive.”

  “True, but surely my grief would have made me less likely to remarry in haste. Even now, the thought of giving myself to another man is abhorrent. No, I can only come up with one explanation for why I was so helpless to resist Daisy’s efforts to marry me off to Endicott. I think she must have drugged me.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “MR. BATES?”

  Gideon looked up from the documents he’d been studying to find Alfred standing in his office doorway. “Yes?”

  “I think I know why you couldn’t find a telephone number for Mr. Knight’s house, sir.”

  Alfred was still clutching the note Gideon had charged him with delivering to Priscilla Knight because Endicott Knight did not appear to have been on the telephone exchange. “And why is that, Alfred?”

  “Because nobody lives in his house.”

  Gideon needed a minute to fully comprehend this information, and even then he was sure he’d misunderstood. “Do you mean no one was home when you knocked on the door?”

  “No, sir, although that was what I thought at first. But a house like that usually has a maid, at least, and she’d answer the door even if nobody was home, wouldn’t she?”

  “Usually, yes.” And Priscilla and her children would probably be there, too.

  “So I went around to the back door and tried again, but nobody answered there, either. That was when I noticed all the curtains were closed up tight and there wasn’t any smoke coming from the chimneys and the backyard was all covered with dried-up weeds. Then the maid from next door called out to ask me what I thought I was doing. I guess she saw me at the back door and decided I was up to no good.”