City of Secrets

by Victoria Thompson

  For some reason, her heart started thudding against her ribs in an alarming manner. “For what?”

  “For having the arrogance to judge you.”

  She had to put a hand on her chest to keep her heart from leaping right out. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. And I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know I was sorry for it, sorrier than you will ever know.”

  “I don’t think I want you to be quite that sorry.”

  He smiled at that. “Why not?”

  “Because . . . you’re the most honest person I know, too. That’s one of the things I lo . . . I like most about you.”

  “And one of the things I like most about you is that you aren’t completely honest.”

  “Really?” She could not have been more shocked.

  “Really.” His smile nearly melted her heart, and she wished so fervently that things could be different that she could hardly get her breath. “And don’t worry, I won’t bother you anymore. I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I hope we can still be friends.”

  She didn’t want to merely be friends with him, but she nodded because that was so much better than never seeing him again. “That would be . . . fine.”

  “Good,” he said and motioned for her to precede him into the parlor, where several small groups of people were apparently enjoying whatever topics they were so enthusiastically discussing.

  Gideon stopped to greet Miss Adams, although Elizabeth noticed he didn’t sit down but rather moved on to another group. Elizabeth didn’t stop at all, instead going straight through to the butler’s pantry, where she could have a moment alone to compose herself.

  What was Gideon really sorry for, and did he really mean it when he said he liked her dishonesty? And what did that actually mean? And what difference could it possibly make?

  * * *

  • • •

  THE DAY AFTER THEY HAD PUT THE MONEY IN THE SAFE-deposit box, Daisy was making a list of all the furnishings she wanted to order for the house, when someone pounded on her front door with an insistence that alarmed her. She didn’t wait for the maid to come but hurried to answer it herself.

  The assistant pimp, Ross, stood on her doorstep looking impatient.

  “What do you want?” she demanded.

  “I need some money.”

  “Money? For what?”

  “A delivery. There’s a delivery at the house, and you need to pay for it.”

  “A delivery of what?”

  “I don’t know. Furniture, I think. Beds or something.” His smile had become a leer.

  “I didn’t order anything yet.”

  “Franklin did. He ordered them before he even met you. I telephoned to tell him it arrived, and he said to get the money from you and we’d reimburse you from the box when he’s back in town.”

  This was outrageous. “How dare he do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know, and it’s none of my business. My business is that there’s a truckload of brass beds that needs to be unloaded and paid for, so if you give me the key to the house and the cash, I’ll take care of it.”

  “I’m not giving you anything. How do I even know what you’re telling me is the truth?”

  Ross shrugged, unconcerned. “Come and see for yourself, then. But you better bring the key and the money.”

  That was exactly what she would do. “How much is it?”

  “Ten thousand dollars.”

  “Ten thousand! That’s absurd!”

  “Oh, well, I guess it is.” He patted his pockets and managed to come up with a packet of papers that proved to be a bill of lading. “It’s really just $9,876.32. See for yourself.”

  She looked at the papers and saw the merchandise listed was indeed brass beds and feather mattresses at prices she never would have paid. “I’m not going to pay this!”

  Ross shrugged again. “So I should tell Franklin the deal is off, then?”

  “No, of course the deal is not off!”

  “Then you’ll give me the key and the cash?”

  “No, but I’ll go myself. Wait here.” She left him standing on the front stoop.

  She punished Ross by taking her time changing into something more presentable and retrieving what was almost the last of the blackmail moneys. She’d invested some of the early money in jewelry, and paying Matthew for the mortgage had taken much more than it should have, since he’d sensed their desperation and demanded almost twice what he’d originally paid. But she’d get it all back and much, much more when they opened the house. In the meantime, she’d give Franklin a tongue-lashing he’d never forget for this inconvenience.

  Ross had left a cab waiting, which he’d neglected to mention, and she was expected to pay that as well. At least he hadn’t lied about the delivery. A truck full of wooden crates stood at the curb outside Knight’s old house, and three deliverymen piled out of it when the cab pulled up.

  She unlocked the door for them and watched as they brought in crate after crate. Because they still needed to divide the bedrooms upstairs, she had them jam the crates into the downstairs rooms in between the furniture that was already there. When they were finished, she paid them, carefully counting out the bills while the workmen stood patiently by. As they left, Ross snatched up the small stack of twenties remaining from the ten thousand she had brought.

  “I need to tip them,” he explained cheerfully, and followed the men out. Only after the truck had rumbled off and the house became completely still did she realize Ross had also left.

  What had she expected? That an assistant pimp would wait around to see her safely home? Muttering curses down on both him and Franklin, she locked up the house and went out to find a cab.

  * * *

  • • •

  SOMETIMES GIDEON HATED BEING RIGHT. HE’D TOLD HIS MOTHER that simply apologizing to Elizabeth would not be enough, and it hadn’t been. What had he expected, though? That she’d fall into his arms when he said he was sorry? Well, he’d hoped, even though he’d had no reason to and even though he’d already predicted it wouldn’t solve anything. And now he had the cold satisfaction of being right.

  For the past hour, he’d been trying to read over the last will and testament that he had prepared for a client, and he had no more idea now than he’d had an hour ago if it was correct or not. He looked up with relief when Smith knocked and stepped into his office.

  “Although he does not have an appointment, Mr. Matthew Honesdale is here to see you.”

  “Send him in,” Gideon said, unreasonably glad to hear it.

  Honesdale looked almost as pleased as Gideon felt.

  “Do you have news?” Gideon asked when Honesdale was seated.

  “I have news and more.” He reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out an envelope, which he laid on Gideon’s desk.

  Gideon looked at it curiously but made no move to pick it up. “The mortgage?”

  “I drove a hard bargain. Peter tried to pretend they were doing me a favor, but he had no idea I knew how desperate they were. I got almost twice what I had given Knight for it.”

  Gideon nodded his appreciation. “Congratulations.”

  “I kept the original amount and the interest, but . . .” He grinned sheepishly. “Maybe Uncle Nathan’s Bible lessons stuck a little. I couldn’t keep it all.” He gestured toward the envelope. “That’s the rest. Give it to the widow, will you?”

  Gideon looked at Honesdale with admiration. “I certainly will.” He took a moment to savor this small victory. “Did you have success with the police?”

  “Oh yes. They’re always happy to make an arrest that won’t interrupt their flow of income. This will make them look like they’re protecting public morals without offending anyone who is actually corrupting public morals.” />
  “That’s a sad commentary on our criminal justice system.”

  “Because our criminal justice system is very sad. But then I’ve never believed we should punish people for what they do in the privacy of the bedroom.”

  Gideon could think of a dozen reasons why someone should be punished for what happened to the women in Matthew Honesdale’s brothels, but he didn’t bother to mention them. Instead, he would somehow manage to be grateful for Matthew’s assistance and happy that he’d never have to see him again. “Thank you for your assistance in this matter. You didn’t have to do what you did, and you certainly didn’t have to be so generous to Mrs. Knight,” he added, nodding at the envelope.

  “My pleasure. This was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, and the show isn’t over yet. When can we expect the next act?”

  “I’m just waiting to hear from my associates before setting things in motion.”

  “Be sure to alert me, too. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ALL THE MONEY’S GONE?” PETER NEARLY shouted at Daisy

  Fortunately, the servants had left for the day. “I didn’t expect you to be so generous with Matthew,” she nearly shouted right back.

  “But we had to get the mortgage and he wouldn’t take any less!”

  “And I had to pay for the beds today.”

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t just go down and get the money out of the box,” Peter grumbled.

  “Because we told Gideon Bates not to open the box unless Franklin was there, too,” she said, trying hard not to scream at him. Was he really that stupid?

  “I know, but you could have at least tried.”

  “Are you serious? With Gideon Bates? We chose him because he’s intractable!”

  “Couldn’t you have used your charm or something?” Peter whined.

  “You mean seduce him? Hardly. In any case, Franklin will be back soon, and we’ll get the money then. We can certainly survive for a few days.”

  “I don’t like it. When did Franklin say he’d be back?”

  She started to reply and realized she had no answer. “I don’t think he said exactly.”

  “But he did say we could send him a message through Ross.”

  “Yes, and Ross already told him about the delivery. I’m sure—”

  “Well, I’m not sure about anything, and I won’t be until I’ve talked to Franklin.”

  That was fair enough. “Why don’t you go to the Waldorf tomorrow, darling, and have Ross send Franklin a message?”

  * * *

  • • •

  HOW LONG DID IT TAKE TO CON SOMEONE OUT OF THEIR ENTIRE fortune? Gideon realized he had no idea, and while it had only been two days since he’d seen the Honesdales put much of their fortune into the safe-deposit box, it felt like a century. He’d often thought his work a trifle dull for the most part, but now he found it impossibly tedious, as the minutes dragged by at a glacial pace. He couldn’t even muster much relief when Smith tapped on his door with what surely would be welcome interruption.

  “Although he does not have an appointment,” Smith began, but the rest of his announcement died in his throat when Peter Honesdale burst into the room, shoving Smith aside to make way.

  “Franklin has disappeared!” Peter cried.

  “Thank you, Smith. I’ll just . . . I’ll take care of Reverend Honesdale.”

  Smith discreetly and quickly took his leave while Honesdale stood there looking half-crazed.

  “Sit down, Peter, and tell me what’s wrong.”

  He sat with a thunk, dropping the hat he’d been holding to run his hands through his hair. “Franklin has disappeared,” he repeated.

  Just as Elizabeth had said he would. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean he said he was going back to Chicago—that’s where he lives, Chicago—for a few days, but that we could reach him through his man, Ross.”

  “Have you tried Ross?”

  “That’s just it. They were staying at the Waldorf. That’s what he told us. We’d even left him messages there. But I went to the Waldorf this morning, and they never heard of either one of them.”

  “Maybe they just moved to a different hotel.”

  “Except they were never staying at the Waldorf at all. I made the desk clerk check. I made them go back a month. Neither of them was ever there!”

  “That’s curious. Don’t you have an address for him in Chicago?” This seemed like a logical question to ask, even though Gideon knew Franklin didn’t live in Chicago.

  “No, we don’t,” Peter said. His anger was burning out, and now he just sounded petulant.

  Gideon couldn’t help himself. “You’ll remember I warned you about this Franklin.”

  “Don’t go all righteous on me, Gideon. Don’t you think I feel enough of a fool without you rubbing it in? And there’s more.”

  “More of what?”

  “The delivery! We paid for the delivery out of our own pocket!”

  “What delivery?”

  “Uh, furniture. Franklin had furniture shipped to the house.”

  “The parsonage?” Now Gideon really was confused.

  “No, to . . . to the other house. And we had to pay for it. Ten thousand dollars! And there was nothing in the crates.”

  “What crates?”

  “The furniture crates. When I couldn’t find Franklin, I got suspicious, so I went to the house and broke some of them open, and there was nothing in them but some trash. No furniture at all!”

  “Peter, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Which was the gospel truth.

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is you have to open up the box and give us our money back.”

  Gideon had to remind himself that he wasn’t supposed to know anything about the money. “Money? You told me you were putting important documents in the box.”

  “Yes, and the documents are money. There’s a hundred thousand dollars in that box, and I want to get it out.”

  “A hundred thousand dollars? Was it your money?”

  “Half of it, yes.”

  Gideon leaned back in his chair. “Peter, you are the one who told me I was not, under any circumstances, to open the box unless you and Franklin were both present.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. Can’t you see that no longer applies? Franklin has run out on our deal.”

  “I’m not sure you can assume that. It’s only been two days. You said he went back to Chicago, and he’s hardly had time to get there, much less get back again. Maybe there’s just some misunderstanding about what hotel he was staying at. You had some sort of business agreement with him, didn’t you? Surely, he wouldn’t run out on that. And the money in the box. You said only half was yours. Was the other half his?”

  “Yes,” Peter admitted with great reluctance.

  “He’s hardly likely to leave that behind. I think you need to give him time to get back and straighten all of this out.”

  “But what about the crates and the furniture?”

  “I don’t know anything about that, but like I said, you need to give him time to answer all your questions. And in the meantime, or until I hear from Mr. Franklin himself, I can’t open the box for you.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “I TOLD YOU HE WOULDN’T DO IT,” DAISY SAID, FIGHTING THE urge to slap the stupid expression off Peter’s stupid face. “That’s why we chose him. We didn’t want Franklin bribing or threatening someone into opening the box. And now look at us.”

  “I even told him about the empty crates, and he didn’t care.”

  “You told him about the crates?” Daisy cried. “Did you tell him about the house, too, and what it was for?”

  “No! I’d never—”
<
br />   “Shut up about what you’d never do, Peter.” She slammed out of the parlor, where they’d been arguing, and marched up the stairs to their bedroom.

  Unfortunately, Peter, still whining, followed on her heels. She wanted to push him down the stairs, but she marched on resolutely, knowing it was up to her now to clean up this mess.

  “You should have looked in the crates before you paid for them,” Peter said.

  Maybe she would push him down the stairs.

  Ignoring him, she went to her dresser and pulled out the bottom drawer. There was the lovely leather case that held her lovely little pearl-handled revolver. She’d carried it in a pocket every day when she’d had her own house and people called her Mrs. Grayson and treated her with respect. She’d never actually fired it, but she’d pulled it out a time or two to subdue rowdy customers.

  “What are you doing with that?” Peter asked in alarm.

  “I’m going to convince Gideon Bates to open that box.”

  “Do you think he’ll do it just because you point a gun at him?”

  “No, but I think he’ll do it if I point a gun at Miss Elizabeth Miles.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “REMIND ME AGAIN, WHO IS ELIZABETH MILES?”

  Peter really was hopeless. Maybe she’d shoot him when this was over. “She’s the little chippie Hazel Bates has been bringing to church.”

  “Oh, right. Priscilla’s helpful friend. Why should Bates care if you point a gun at her, though?”

  “Because his mother likes her, and Bates loves his mother. I’d prefer the mother, but she’d be much harder to control, and I’ve developed a definite dislike for Miss Miles. She’s entirely too nosy for her own good, and Bates is such a gentleman, he’ll certainly want to save his mother’s protégée, so she’ll do nicely.”

  “Are you sure? Why should he even care about her?”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at her, Peter,” she explained in exasperation. “And his mother has been dragging her around to visit people so she’d be accepted into society, so Mrs. Bates has also noticed. Other people at church have noticed, too.”