City of Secrets

by Victoria Thompson

  “I haven’t,” Peter insisted.

  “Everyone but you, then. In any case, all I need is her address.”

  “I’m sure Gideon knows it.”

  Not while I have a gun in my hand, Peter! “And so does his mother, I’m sure, but they’re likely to wonder why we need it. I was thinking I would check the city directory first.”

  * * *

  • • •

  THE OLD MAN HAD SENT ELIZABETH WORD YESTERDAY THAT things were going as planned. Hopefully, Matthew Honesdale had successfully sold the mortgage to Daisy and Peter, so he’d gotten his money back as well. Maybe by the weekend, she’d be able to tell Priscilla the good news.

  Cybil and Zelda had left for Hunter College, where they taught, and Elizabeth was looking over the newspaper when someone rang the doorbell. Even though it was unlikely Gideon would be calling on her on a weekday morning—or quite frankly, any time at all—she couldn’t help the little skitter of excitement she felt at the possibility. But she was sorely disappointed when she opened the door.

  “Mrs. Honesdale,” she said warily, glancing around to see if anyone was with her. “What a surprise.” How had Daisy found her?

  This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all.

  “Hello, Miss Miles,” Daisy said, forcing her way inside by the simple method of walking forward until Elizabeth had to back up or be knocked over.

  “Did we have an engagement?” Elizabeth asked, knowing full well they had not.

  “In a manner of speaking. I need your company on an errand I must run.”

  “What sort of errand?”

  “It’s nothing, really. Nothing for you to be concerned about, at least.”

  “Then why do you need my company?”

  “For insurance.”

  Elizabeth had a very bad feeling about this. Daisy seemed calm enough, but her eyes had a determined cast that made Elizabeth’s skin crawl. She obviously knew or at least suspected that something had gone wrong. But why would she come here? “Insurance against what?”

  “Against disaster. Let me tell you what we are going to do. You are going to put on a coat and hat, and we are going to get into the cab I have waiting. You will sit quietly and say nothing at all in the cab. We will drive to a business called the Safe Deposit Company. When we get to the Safe Deposit Company, we will meet my husband and Gideon Bates.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help her reaction. Everything was crystal clear now. Daisy wanted Gideon to open that cursed box, and he wouldn’t do it. Of course he wouldn’t do it. He had given his word. And Daisy thought she could force him by threatening Elizabeth.

  But Elizabeth shouldn’t know any of this, so she had to pretend complete ignorance. “Why would we do all that?”

  “Because . . . Well, you don’t need to know all the details, but we need Mr. Bates to open a certain safe-deposit box for us, but he has refused to do that, so we wanted to give him an incentive, as it were.”

  Elizabeth feigned confusion. “Do you think he’s more likely to do it if I ask him to?”

  Daisy smiled, an expression that chilled Elizabeth’s blood. “I think he’s more likely to do it if I have a gun pointed at you.” With that she slipped her hand out of her coat pocket to show Elizabeth exactly what she meant.

  “Oh dear” was all Elizabeth could think to say.

  “Yes, oh dear. Now get your coat on, Miss Miles. We have work to do.”

  * * *

  • • •

  THIS TIME, SMITH WAS OBVIOUSLY AT THE END OF HIS PATIENCE. Never in the history of Devoss and Van Aken had he received so many visitors without appointments. He could hardly force himself to say the words. “The Reverend Mr. Peter Honesdale,” he announced without even moving his lips.

  Gideon sighed and prepared himself for another hysterical rant, but this time Peter appeared perfectly calm and perhaps also a bit gleeful, if the sparkle in his eyes was any indication.

  “What can I do for you today, Peter?”

  He waited until Smith had closed the door behind him. “You can go with me to the Safe Deposit Company and open the damn box.”

  “We went through this yesterday, and I thought I made myself clear. I can’t ethically open the box unless Franklin is present as well.”

  “Can you ethically open the box to keep Miss Elizabeth Miles from being shot?” he asked.

  Gideon had been sorely mistaken. The glitter in his eyes wasn’t glee. It was madness. “What are you talking about?”

  “My wife has gone to fetch Miss Miles and will bring her to the Safe Deposit Company. I will bring you there as well. If Miss Miles’s safety is of concern to you, you will open the box. If you do that and allow us to reclaim what is ours, we will release you and Miss Miles, no harm done.”

  He surely must be out of his mind, although the threat sounded very real. Horror turned his blood to ice. “And if I refuse?”

  “Then Daisy will shoot her.”

  Gideon could hardly think as he relived the moment when he’d actually seen Elizabeth being shot once before. “Your wife has a gun?”

  “A pistol. Yes. She’s had it for years. For protection, you understand. She was a widow with no one to take care of her.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that she would shoot Miss Miles if I refuse to open the box?”

  “Are you willing to doubt me at the risk to Miss Miles’s life?”

  That, of course, was the really important issue here, and Gideon had a really important answer. “No, I am not.”

  “Good. Then get the key and let’s go. The ladies will be waiting.”

  If time had been dragging before, it had stopped completely now. The ride to the Safe Deposit Company took forever in the afternoon traffic, and Gideon was nearly paralyzed with fear during the entire trip. The office probably closed at three, just like a bank, and they would barely make it in time.

  Indeed, when they rushed in, the clock on the wall said 2:58. Gideon would have bet his heart couldn’t beat any harder, but it did when he saw Daisy and Elizabeth were already there. Daisy looked strangely calm, and Elizabeth was pale, but no one had shot her, so he could at least take a breath again. She smiled when she saw him, although it looked a little stiff. Gideon instantly noted the way Daisy kept her right hand in her pocket and held Elizabeth slightly in front of her. Judging from the careful way Elizabeth moved, Daisy really did have a pistol.

  “We’re so glad you could make it, Mr. Bates,” Elizabeth said with just a trace of sarcasm.

  At least she hadn’t lost her sense of humor. “You must have known nothing would keep me away.”

  “Ah, just as I suspected,” Daisy said with satisfaction. “Gideon will do whatever it takes to protect you, Miss Miles. Let’s just get this over with, shall we? Did you bring the key, Gideon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Peter, tell Carstairs we’re ready to go to the vault. I already told him we were just waiting for you to arrive.”

  Peter did as he was told.

  “Won’t Carstairs be suspicious, since Franklin isn’t here?” Gideon tried while Peter was gone, wondering if there was any way to protect Elizabeth and keep them away from the money, too.

  “Carstairs knows nothing about our little agreement with you, and Peter and I have every right to open the box. I told him we’re signing some papers and you two will be our witnesses.”

  Before Gideon could think of anything else, Peter had returned with Carstairs.

  “We’re almost ready to close for the day,” Carstairs said, torn between pleasing his customers and knowing his employees wouldn’t be happy.

  “And we really appreciate your bending the rules for us. This won’t take long,” Peter assured him.

  If Carstairs noticed the tension between his visitors, he didn’t let on. He led them back the way they had gone before and left them a
lone in the vault.

  When he had gone, Daisy said, “Open it.”

  “I’m sorry, Gideon,” Elizabeth said, and to his amazement, her eyes filled with tears.

  “It’s all right. Nothing is more important to me than you are.”

  “Really? Nothing?”

  “Nothing at all,” he assured her, knowing for certain now that it was true.

  “Stop this nonsense and open the box,” Daisy cried.

  Not wanting to antagonize a woman holding a gun on his beloved, Gideon pulled the key out of his pocket and went to the box that bore the number 406.

  It should have been easy. Just put the key in, turn it and pull the box out. Except . . .

  “It doesn’t fit.”

  “What?” Peter said, hurrying over to see.

  Gideon tried again. “The key. It doesn’t fit in the lock.”

  “You must have brought the wrong one,” Peter said, snatching it from him to try it himself.

  “How could I bring the wrong one? I only had one key. Look at the tag. Do the numbers match?”

  Peter had tried the key himself, also without success. He looked at the tag and compared the numbers. “It’s the same number, but it won’t go in the lock.”

  “Do I have to do everything?” Daisy asked, and forgetting Elizabeth completely, she pulled her empty hand out of her pocket and snatched the key from Peter. But she had no more success than the men had. “It’s the wrong key!”

  “How could it be?” Gideon asked. “You saw Franklin give it to me.”

  “Ross gave it to you. He was the one who locked the box, too,” Daisy remembered.

  “Whoever it was, it has to be the same key.”

  “Get Carstairs,” Daisy told Peter, putting her hand back in her pocket. “And you two, don’t get any ideas. Just keep your mouths shut.”

  Gideon turned to Elizabeth, hating the fact that she was here because of him. “Does she really have a pistol?”

  “Oh yes. It’s lovely, too. Pearl handle. Very feminine.”

  Daisy sighed in frustration and pulled her hand out of her pocket again, only this time she held a pistol. Pearl handle. Very feminine. She wasn’t quite sure where to point it, though. Gideon was closer, but Elizabeth was the one he cared about.

  “This is very irregular.” Carstairs’s outrage echoed in the hallway, and Daisy automatically turned toward the sound.

  “Get down!” Gideon shouted and lunged for Daisy.

  He grabbed her wrist with both hands and jerked her arm up. She screamed, but he threw his weight against her and she fell—they both fell—as the gun exploded. She thrashed and kicked, but he wrestled the pistol out of her hand just as Carstairs and Peter burst through the vault door.

  “What on earth is going on here?” Carstairs demanded.

  “That man attacked me!” Daisy cried from where she lay, holding her wrist as if he’d injured her.

  Gideon bounded to his feet, pistol in hand. “Elizabeth!” he called frantically.

  She was gone—but no, she was on the floor, where she’d dropped on his command. Dear heaven, had she been hit? His heart stopped dead in his chest.

  “Elizabeth, are you hurt?”

  He was beside her now, and she was trying to sit up. “I don’t think so, except for a terrible ringing in my ears.”

  Gideon realized his hearing was a bit distorted as well. The vault’s walls had magnified the gunshot.

  His heart had started to beat again, and he helped her to her feet.

  Peter had rushed to Daisy. “What did he do to you?”

  “He tried to attack me!”

  “Was that why you pulled out your pistol and tried to shoot us?” Elizabeth asked with an angry smile.

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on here?” Carstairs asked again, obviously at the end of his patience and eying the pistol Gideon held with deep distress. “And if you’re thinking of robbing us, you should know that everything of value is locked securely away and only the owners of the property have a key.”

  “No one is going to rob anyone,” Gideon said. At least not today. He flipped open the cylinder and removed the bullets. Then he put the bullets into one pocket and the pistol into another. When he looked up again, he was gratified to see Elizabeth had been suitably impressed by his gallantry.

  Daisy and Peter, however, were not. “What did you do with the real key?” Daisy demanded.

  “Nothing. This is the key Ross gave me on Monday. Mr. Carstairs, this key does not open Reverend and Mrs. Honesdale’s box.” He picked it up from where it had fallen to the floor in the excitement and handed it to Carstairs.

  “Nonsense. The key works perfectly.” He checked the number on the hanging disk, then went to box 406 and tried to unlock it. He tried far longer than Gideon and Peter and Daisy had, but he still had just as little success. “That’s impossible.”

  “You must have given us the wrong key,” Peter insisted.

  “I certainly did not. And the key worked perfectly when Mr. Franklin used it on Monday.”

  “We know. We were here,” Gideon said.

  “No, I mean when he returned later.”

  “What do you mean, when he returned later?” Daisy asked warily.

  “He came back shortly after all of you left. He said there was a document he’d forgotten to put in the box.”

  “What did he use for a key?” Gideon asked, because he’d had the key in his possession by then.

  “I assume he used the key I had issued him when he paid for the box,” Carstairs said.

  “He couldn’t have,” Peter said, rising and helping Daisy to her feet as well. “This is the key you gave us, and Bates here has had it all along. Or did you give it to Franklin?” he added to Gideon with growing outrage.

  “No, I did not give it to Franklin. This is the key I was given on Monday in front of all of you, and it’s been locked in my office ever since.”

  “Then how—”

  “He switched keys,” Daisy said.

  “Who did?” Carstairs asked, thoroughly confused now.

  “Franklin,” she said, furious now. “He kept the real key and gave Bates here a phony one.”

  “But why?” Peter wailed.

  “So he could come back and empty out the box,” Daisy said. She turned to Carstairs. “Open it.”

  “Open the box?” he repeated in confusion. “I can’t. Not without the key. The proper key, I should say.”

  “But surely, people sometimes lose their keys and you have to get into their boxes some other way,” Gideon said.

  Carstairs cleared his throat. “It does happen. Rarely, you understand.”

  “Do you have a pass key? Or duplicate keys?”

  “That would defeat the whole purpose of our institution,” Carstairs said, thoroughly insulted. “No, when someone loses their key, we have to drill the box open and then replace it with a new one.”

  “Drill it then,” Daisy said.

  “You will be charged for replacing the box,” he warned. “And there are some papers to sign . . .”

  “Drill it!”

  This would take some time, and Gideon insisted that Elizabeth go home. She argued with him, but he finally convinced her when he said, “I don’t want to have to worry about you while I’m dealing with them, too. Please, I need to know you’re safe.”

  A workman had to be summoned to open the box, and then he had to do the work, but eventually he got the box loose from its moorings and pulled it out. He set it on the table, obviously very interested to see what had been inside that was worth so much trouble, but Carstairs sent him on his way disappointed.

  “Mr. Carstairs, would you stay as another witness, please?” Gideon asked.

  Plainly, Carstairs was more than happy to do so. He was now as curious as the wo
rkman had been. After a moment and at Daisy’s urging, Peter stepped forward and flipped the lid of the box open.

  It was empty.

  * * *

  • • •

  “I DIDN’T KNOW THAT IT’S ILLEGAL TO PUT MONEY IN A SAFE-deposit box,” Peter said as the cab carried them back home. As if that was the worst thing they had learned that day.

  Daisy was too numb to even be angry with him anymore. How could they have been so stupid? She’d been so excited at the prospect of cheating Franklin, she’d completely ignored the possibility that he could be cheating her.

  At least Carstairs hadn’t called the police about anything. He could have done so over their having put cash in the box—which he never would have known if Peter hadn’t started babbling when they saw the box was empty—but especially over her shooting the gun. For some reason Bates had convinced him the gun had been a stupid accident, though. She hated pretending she hadn’t known the gun was loaded or how it worked and that she had inadvertently pulled the trigger. Carstairs hadn’t even believed it, but he’d been willing to avoid any trouble by pretending to.

  And Bates wouldn’t even give her gun back.

  “What’s going on?” Peter said, sitting up straight and peering through the windshield of the cab.

  “Looks like there’s some trouble,” the driver said, slowing because the street was blocked. “That’s quite a crowd. Do you know who lives in that house?”

  “We live in that house.”

  The driver had to let them off on the corner. Too many people had spilled off the sidewalk and into the street, and traffic had stalled.

  Daisy took Peter’s arm and they pushed their way through the crowd. No one paid them any mind until they turned up the front walk.

  “Reverend Honesdale? Are you Reverend Honesdale? Is that your wife?” someone shouted.

  A dozen voices called out a dozen questions.

  “Were you really a madam, Mrs. Honesdale?”

  “Did you really drug those girls and force them into prostitution?”