City of Secrets

by Victoria Thompson

  “And did you ask her about the house?”

  “Yes. I had to tell her what my business was, so she didn’t accuse me of trying to break in, and she told me nobody’s lived in the house for months.”

  “Did you tell her who you were looking for? Maybe I gave you the wrong address.”

  “I told her I was looking for Mrs. Endicott Knight, and she said there wasn’t no such person, as far as she knew. She said Mr. Endicott Knight’s mother was long dead, and Mr. Knight himself had moved out almost a year ago.”

  Gideon resisted an urge to smack himself in the head, because Alfred would think him crazy, but suddenly, everything made sense. “Alfred, see if you can connect me with Mrs. DeForrest Jenks. I’m guessing the telephone is listed in her late husband’s name.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “DRUGGED?” ELIZABETH ECHOED, MANAGING TO SOUND SUITABLY horrified, even though she’d suspected something of the kind. “What makes you think Mrs. Honesdale drugged you?”

  “I think I told you that I couldn’t remember much from that time, and I seemed to see everything through a fog. I’d never felt like that before, and I haven’t felt like that since, just for that one period.”

  “But you said yourself, you were grieving for Mr. Jenks. I think a lot of widows probably don’t remember much of what happened after their husbands died, especially in your case, when it was sudden and he was so young.”

  “That was part of it, I’m sure, but . . . I didn’t mention this before, because I hadn’t realized the significance of it, but whenever I became the least bit upset, Daisy would make me a cup of tea. She said it was chamomile, but it had a funny aftertaste, and after I drank it, I always felt strange and lethargic. Ordinary chamomile tea doesn’t make me feel like that.”

  What could Daisy Honesdale have used? A few drops of laudanum, perhaps, or some other opiate would have that effect, especially on someone who didn’t use it regularly. Many women did, of course. Laudanum didn’t cure female complaints, but it did make them easier to bear. The new narcotics law had made obtaining the drug more difficult, but most doctors would prescribe it if asked. “That’s a very serious accusation,” Elizabeth said gently, thinking how outraged Mrs. Bates and Gideon would be to hear Mrs. Honesdale accused of such a thing.

  “And one not very likely to be believed,” Priscilla said with more than a trace of bitterness. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “Oh, I believe you,” Elizabeth assured her.

  “You do?”

  “Of course. It makes perfect sense. Why else would you have married a man you hardly knew while you were still mourning the love of your life?”

  “Did I tell you I hardly remember the ceremony? I felt like I dreamed it. Daisy was holding my arm and she would squeeze it and whisper the vows to me when it was time to say them. I didn’t want to do it, but I just couldn’t find the words to refuse. It was the most horrible feeling in the world.”

  “Yes, feeling helpless really is the most horrible feeling in the world. I wish we could go back and change what happened, but we can’t, especially now that Mr. Knight is dead.”

  “And thanks to him I’m a penniless widow living in a house that doesn’t belong to me at the mercy of a man I’ve never met. What is going to become of us, Elizabeth? How will I take care of my girls?”

  Priscilla’s eyes had filled with tears, and she pulled a black-bordered handkerchief from her sleeve and began to weep into it. Before Elizabeth could even begin to think of something to say that might offer comfort, a telephone rang shrilly from the hallway just outside the parlor. By the sound of her footsteps, the maid fairly ran to answer it, and after a few moments, she tapped on the parlor door and stuck her head into the room.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Knight, but Mr. Gideon Bates would like to speak to you on the telephone.”

  * * *

  • • •

  THE MAID SHOWED GIDEON INTO THE PARLOR AND ANNOUNCED him. Mrs. Knight rose to greet him and so did another lady, whom Gideon was surprised to see was Elizabeth.

  “I was visiting Priscilla when you telephoned, and she asked me to stay,” Elizabeth explained when he’d greeted them both.

  “I see,” he said, although he didn’t.

  “I already told her that Matthew Honesdale owns her mortgage,” she added, “if that’s why you’ve come.”

  She should have told him she was going to do that, but no harm done, he supposed. “That is why I’ve come, but I’ve also discovered something else of interest.”

  Priscilla quickly invited him to sit down, and when they were all settled and Gideon had declined her offer of refreshment, he said, “Mrs. Knight, did your late husband own any other homes?”

  “Mr. Knight, you mean?” He nodded. “He had inherited his parents’ home, but he sold it after we married.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “I . . .” She glanced at Elizabeth as if for assistance.

  “Priscilla was just telling me that she doesn’t clearly remember everything that happened during the time after Mr. Jenks died and she married Mr. Knight,” Elizabeth said.

  “That’s perfectly understandable,” he said as kindly as he could. Priscilla had obviously been crying before he arrived, and he didn’t want to set her off again.

  “What do you remember him telling you about his house?” Elizabeth asked her.

  “We . . . I was concerned that he would expect us—the girls and me—to move into his family’s home. I simply couldn’t bear the thought of any more upheaval in our lives, but Mr. Knight assured me we could remain here, and . . . I don’t remember exactly what he said, but whatever it was, I got the impression he was going to sell that house.”

  Elizabeth turned to him. “Why are you so interested in that house?”

  “You remember when Mr. Honesdale showed me the mortgage documents?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “I made note of the address and jotted it down. Today, I decided I should tell Mrs. Knight that we’d learned who owned the mortgage, but I couldn’t find a telephone number for Knight. I sent our office boy with a message, asking Mrs. Knight to set a time when I could call on her, and he discovered the house was empty.”

  “But the house isn’t empty,” Mrs. Knight said.

  “This house isn’t, but Knight’s old house is. You see, that’s the address that was on the mortgage documents. Mr. Honesdale has a mortgage on that house, not this one.”

  “How strange,” Priscilla said. “If he needed funds, why didn’t he just sell that house?”

  “I’m not sure we’ll ever know for certain,” Gideon said, “but perhaps he didn’t want to lose his family home, so a mortgage seemed a good compromise.”

  “Who owns the mortgage on this house then?” Mrs. Knight asked.

  “Did someone actually tell you this house is mortgaged?”

  Mrs. Knight frowned. “I’m trying to remember. I was speaking with Mr. Renfroe. He was from the bank, and he called on me after Endicott died to warn me about my precarious financial situation.”

  “Do bankers normally do that?” Elizabeth asked him.

  “Not in my experience, but—”

  “Mr. Renfroe is an old family friend,” Priscilla said. “He said he was concerned because Endicott had withdrawn all of my funds from his bank, and he wanted me to be aware of that. He seemed to be hoping Endicott had simply moved them to a different bank, but that is obviously not the case.”

  “And Mr. Renfroe told you about the mortgage?”

  “He said Endicott had mortgaged the house. I guess I just assumed it was this one, since I thought he’d sold the other one.”

  “I’ll speak with Mr. Renfroe myself and find out for sure,” Gideon said.

  “That would be such a relief if we can at least remain in our home,” Mrs. Knight s
aid.

  Gideon didn’t remind her that she wouldn’t be able to maintain the house without any income, or that he might yet discover another mortgage. Let her enjoy this sense of relief for a few days at least.

  “Mr. Bates,” Elizabeth said, being artificially formal for Priscilla’s benefit. “Did you say this other house is empty? No one lives there?”

  “That seems to be the case. Alfred said no one answered the door, and the place looked deserted.”

  “Is it possible . . . ? You and I were wondering where that photograph might have been taken.”

  “What photograph?” Mrs. Knight asked.

  Gideon winced. Surely, she wasn’t going to choose this moment to tell Mrs. Knight about that horrible picture.

  “Priscilla, we found a photograph of Mr. Knight and his . . . mistress.”

  Mistress? Gideon had to give her credit for discretion.

  “Oh,” Mrs. Knight said, nonplussed. “Is she . . . someone I would know?”

  “Not at all, but the photograph seems to have been taken in someone’s home, and we were wondering where that might have been.”

  “I . . . Do you think it was taken here?” she asked, horrified.

  “No, but we were just . . .”

  Gideon held his breath. How would she explain their interest in the photograph?

  “Since the photograph was used to blackmail him, we were wondering where Mr. Knight might have met with this woman. That might give us a clue as to who the blackmailer was.”

  “Could it have been her home?”

  “We don’t think so.”

  Gideon silently begged Priscilla not to ask how they could be sure. “There was a painting hanging on the wall, one of those hunting scenes that a man might hang in his study,” he said quickly.

  “I know the kind you mean. We don’t have anything like that here. DeForrest abhorred hunting.”

  “Would Mr. Knight have had a painting like that in his house?” Elizabeth asked.

  Mrs. Knight’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. “Oh, I see. You think he could have been meeting this woman in the other house.”

  “It’s possible.” And that would be another reason he hadn’t sold it, but Gideon wasn’t going to mention that to her.

  “Have you ever been to that house?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No, never. And how disappointing if the photograph was taken in his own house, because that won’t help you find the blackmailer.”

  Gideon would reserve judgment on that, and in the meantime . . . “Would you by any chance have the keys to that house?”

  “Not that I know of, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to go through Endicott’s belongings yet. Surely, he must have had them.”

  “I didn’t find them, either,” Elizabeth said, “but I didn’t go through his personal belongings, just his desk.”

  “Would you mind if I looked?” Gideon asked.

  “Not at all,” Mrs. Knight said with relief.

  * * *

  • • •

  “SHALL WE GO STRAIGHT OVER TO KNIGHT’S HOUSE?” ELIZABETH asked when she and Gideon had left Priscilla after Gideon had located Endicott Knight’s keys.

  “No, because you aren’t ever going inside Knight’s house,” Gideon said.

  Elizabeth gave him her most outraged look. “Why not?”

  “Because heaven knows what we might find there. You saw that photograph.”

  Unfortunately, she had, but, “Surely, you don’t think those things are still going on there.”

  “No, but we don’t know what might have been left behind. Besides, if Knight has been bringing women like that to his house, I don’t want you to be seen going inside.”

  Elizabeth hated to lose an argument, but he had a point. “Are you going, then?”

  “Of course.”

  “Alone?”

  “Who would I ask to go with me?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Matthew Honesdale would like to see the house.”

  “I’m thinking he may have been there before.”

  “So you’re going alone?”

  He smiled the teasing smile that always set loose a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. “Are you worried about me?”

  “Of course I’m worried about you. Matthew Honesdale might know how to act like a gentleman, but that doesn’t mean he is one, and as for his cousin . . .”

  “I know you’ve taken a dislike to Reverend and Mrs. Honesdale, but I can’t imagine they’re hiding out in Endicott Knight’s house waiting to attack intruders.”

  “Someone else might be, though. And I haven’t taken a dislike to anyone. I’m just concerned because the Honesdales seem to be much more involved in this than a minister and his wife should be.”

  To her surprise, he frowned. “I’m afraid you’re right.”

  A lady didn’t gape at people, particularly on a public street, but Elizabeth needed all her self-control to curtail the impulse. “You found out something else besides which house Matthew Honesdale has mortgaged, didn’t you?”

  “I went to my club last night and talked to some people about the night DeForrest Jenks died.”

  “Oh dear.” Elizabeth looked around for a place they could discuss this privately and saw nothing. “Should we get a cab so we can talk?”

  “I suppose so. I’ll take you home before I go to Knight’s house.”

  “You don’t have to go back to your office first?”

  “No, Devoss only works us half a day on Saturday.”

  Gideon flagged down a cab, and when they were settled and the motorcar was nudging its way through the busy streets, Elizabeth said, “Tell me.”

  “Jenks was with Reverend Honesdale the night he died.”

  Elizabeth managed not to yelp in delight. Mrs. Ordway would not approve of showing that much emotion. “At the club, you mean?”

  “Yes. Honesdale doesn’t spend much time at the club ordinarily. He’s usually busy in the evenings, I gather.”

  Could that be true? “With church work?”

  “I suppose. At any rate, David was surprised to see him that night.”

  “David? You saw him? How is he?”

  Gideon gave her a mockingly fierce glare. “I hope you’re not expressing inappropriate concern for the man you jilted.”

  “Would it be inappropriate for me to hope he isn’t suffering a fatal decline from a broken heart?”

  “It certainly would. In any case, he’s holding up just fine.”

  “I’m crushed. Did he at least ask about me?”

  “In a roundabout way, yes, but more importantly, he told me he’d received a payment from General Sterling.”

  Elizabeth tried to look more surprised than she was. “Did he?”

  “He did. He didn’t know for certain that it came from the general, but he assumed it did. He was mystified, since he thought the general was in jail for war profiteering.”

  “As well he should be,” she said as righteously as she could manage.

  “Yes, if he’d really been a general and if he’d really been profiteering.”

  “Was David grateful, at least?”

  “Immensely. He’s even going to pay me my fee, now that I reminded him of it.”

  “How responsible of him.”

  “I must admit, I’m surprised. I didn’t expect the Old Man to be so generous.”

  Elizabeth smiled sweetly. “You underestimate him.”

  “Or perhaps he isn’t the one who sent the payment.”

  “Who else could have done it?” she asked as innocently as she could. Luckily, it was an expression she executed well. “Only those involved in the con get a cut of the score.” And as the roper on that one, she’d received forty-five percent. The Old Man might cheat a little on the amount, but he always p
aid everyone. A con man who didn’t pay his partners quickly went out of business. “Now finish telling me what you found out, and I have something to tell you, too. You said Reverend Honesdale was with Mr. Jenks the night he died.”

  Gideon sighed in defeat. “Yes, and Jenks paid for seven or eight drinks that evening, but no one knows how many of those he drank himself.”

  “So he could have been quite drunk or not. Did anyone notice?”

  “Not particularly. Tom, the manager, said Jenks was the last member to leave that night.”

  “So Honesdale wasn’t still there with him?”

  “Tom didn’t see him if he was, and Jenks was dozing alone in the card room when Tom made his rounds.”

  “So that suggests he was drunk. Did Tom try to wake him?”

  “He says not, and when he came back later, Jenks was gone. Tom leaves from the back door, so he didn’t see Jenks standing out front.”

  “If Jenks woke up and walked out by himself, he couldn’t have been too drunk.”

  But Gideon didn’t agree. He didn’t say anything at all.

  “There’s more,” she guessed.

  “I also asked Tom about the gargoyle that fell. We removed all the others after Jenks was killed, but Tom confirmed that none of them were loose.”

  “Would it be unusual for just one to have come loose?”

  “Probably not, but that’s not what bothered me. What bothered me was that Endicott Knight was the president of the club then, and he oversaw removing the others.”

  “If I told you this, you’d probably say it was a coincidence,” she tried.

  “Yes, I would, but I’m starting to see too many coincidences in all of this.”

  He was right, of course, and she’d already seen them.

  “You said you had something to tell me, too,” he said.

  “Yes, I do.” And maybe this time he’d share her suspicions. “Remember Priscilla said she doesn’t recall much of what happened after Mr. Jenks died?”

  “Yes.”