by Jen Turano
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Daphne began, “I’d appreciate stopping off at Herman’s house first because Sheldon is staying there. I’d like to tell him as soon as possible about the news regarding my editor wanting to acquire his book. I well remember how anxious I was before I got a contract.” She smiled. “I know if I go to the boardinghouse first, I’ll get distracted with catching everyone up on what happened in Boston.”
“How long do you think it’ll take to tell Sheldon the good news?” Cooper asked as Herman instructed the driver to take them to his house and the carriage rumbled into motion.
“I wouldn’t think it would take more than an hour,” Daphne said. “But there’s no need for you and Eunice to wait for us.”
“There most certainly is, considering I’m in charge of keeping Herman alive,” Cooper shot back.
“True, but since no one had any advance notice that you and Herman were returning to the city today, I doubt anyone’s going to be able to plan an attack in the next hour.”
Herman sat forward. “Daphne has a point. Go to the boardinghouse, Cooper. As you know, I’m always armed, and I’m perfectly capable of defending myself for an hour. I hate to see you delay your reunion with Ann simply because Daphne and I want to share some good news with my cousin.”
“You’ll only be an hour, and then you’ll come to the boardinghouse?” Cooper pressed.
As Herman nodded, talk turned to the suspects in his case, although there wasn’t much to talk about, given that there’d been no new attacks on his life lately. Before he knew it, the carriage was pulling to a stop in front of his house. After helping Daphne out, and after assuring Cooper once again that they’d meet him at the boardinghouse within the hour, he took hold of Daphne’s arm.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something, Daphne, but I wanted to wait until we were alone because it could be a sensitive topic,” he said as they walked to his front steps. “Why did you bring an entire trunk filled with your mother’s romance novels back to New York with you?”
She smiled. “That’s not a question I was expecting you to ask, but speaking of questions, I have one to ask you, as well. What did you mean when you told Cooper you need to talk to me before you can answer his questions? I didn’t catch the rest because Eunice needed help procuring a carriage.”
“You were eavesdropping on my conversation with Cooper?”
“I’m a writer. You’re a writer. Does that question even need to be asked?”
He grinned. “An excellent point. And to answer your question, there are many things I need to talk to you about, one of those being the reason behind the romance novels.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I was hoping there was something a little more . . . substantial you wanted to talk to me about other than romance novels.”
“Oh, there is, but now I’m curious about the romance novels because it seems to me you’re trying to avoid the issue.” He caught her eye. “As a writer, you must know that once my curiosity is roused, I’ll be hard-pressed to talk to you about anything else until my curiosity is satisfied in regard to the romance novels.”
“Is it odd that I actually understand that type of reasoning?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. “And because I well understand that you’ll be hard-pressed to concentrate on anything else but romance novels until I explain, I’ll tell you. I brought them back with me to read because I’ve had an idea that might help me improve my story, but”—she quickly added—“they’re for research purposes only, in case you were about to ask that next.”
“I wasn’t, but now I have a few more things to add to that list of matters I want to discuss with you.”
Walking with her up the steps and trying to conceal a grin over the look of exasperation she’d settled on him, Herman paused in front of the door, his grin fading when that door remained staunchly closed. “That’s odd. I’d have thought Perkins heard the carriage. He prides himself on always knowing when I’m arriving.”
“Did you send a telegram letting him know you were returning from Boston today?”
“No.”
“Then I’m sure he’s merely counting the silverware or attending to his other duties, unless . . .” Her voice trailed off. “You don’t think something concerning happened while you were gone, do you?”
Herman thought about that for a brief second before he shrugged the idea aside. “We’re probably being paranoid.” With that, he stepped forward and turned the doorknob, frowning when he discovered that the door was locked. “Or maybe we’re not being paranoid.”
Daphne pulled a pin from her hair. “Lucky for us, Gabriella showed me the basics of picking a lock. It shouldn’t take me more than”—she winced—“an hour or two to get into your house.”
He laughed before he nodded to a potted plant on the porch. “No need to try your hand at picking the lock. I keep a spare key hidden under that.”
“You’re a mystery writer, Herman. Surely you know that keys shouldn’t be hidden in such a conspicuous place. You’re lucky you haven’t been murdered in your bed by now.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “I have to wonder, though, if whoever was sneaking around your secret passageways knew about your spare key. That would have made it remarkably easy to access your house.”
“A valid point, and know that I’ll find a better place to stash the key. But for now, how about you stay out here while I go investigate, just in case there is something concerning afoot?”
“You’re clearly forgetting that I’m an inquiry agent, so I won’t be dithering on the porch.” She fumbled with her bag, dropping a book, two handkerchiefs, a few pencils, and a spare pair of spectacles to the ground before she pulled out the derringer she’d once leveled on poor Andrew. “I’m ready.”
“Forgive me for asking this, but do you actually know how to shoot a pistol?”
“I’ve learned how to fire a pistol, so yes, although my aim isn’t great. Cooper suggested that if I’m threatened, I should get as close to that threat as possible to at least have a chance of hitting them.” She slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and nodded. “Lead the way.”
“I’m not sure learning you need to be close to a target is a great vote of confidence.”
“True, but if I miss, I’m sure the surprise of being shot at will at least slow a culprit down.”
“An interesting theory,” Herman said before he retrieved the house key and slid it into the lock a moment later. “You’ll at least need to follow me, and whatever you do, don’t shoot poor Perkins if it turns out he merely locked the door because he has been in the silver room.”
“I’m not going to shoot your butler. That would certainly give Charles Bonner additional fodder to share with the press about me.”
Feeling the most peculiar urge to laugh, Herman unlocked the door and moved silently into the entranceway. He stopped a moment later to take a look around, Daphne barreling into him before she stumbled backward.
“Good heavens, Herman, have a care,” she whispered. “I could have shot you. These derringers are known to be temperamental, and I fear I shoved it right into your back.”
He held out his hand. “I think it’s for the best if you let me handle the weapon.”
“But you have a pistol of your own on your person. I’ll just tuck mine away.”
“Or you can just give it to me, and I’ll see after it until the nerves I’m now feeling from having you jab a pistol in my back dissipate.”
She blew out a breath. “An excellent point, and one I have nothing of worth to argue against since I really could have just shot you.”
Taking the pistol from her, he tucked it into his pocket, then took her hand and headed down the hallway, trepidation settling over him when he saw not a single member of his staff.
“Where is everyone?” Daphne whispered.
“I have no idea.” He tightened his grip on her hand and headed for the library, hoping that Sheldon would be there and that there was a perfectly reasonable
explanation for why his house was devoid of staff. He reached the library door, which was not fully closed, and gave it a push.
His gaze immediately settled on Sheldon, who was tied to a chair, blood dripping from a gash on his head, and who had what appeared to be a handkerchief stuffed in his mouth. Sheldon’s eyes widened when he caught sight of Herman and he began trying to speak, his words too muffled to make out.
Releasing Daphne’s hand, Herman strode to his cousin’s side, snatching up a letter opener from his desk, which he immediately used to cut Sheldon’s bonds.
Daphne joined him a second later, fumbling with the handkerchief before she pulled it away from Sheldon’s face, earning a sigh of relief from Sheldon in the process.
“Thank the good Lord the two of you are here, but it’s not safe.”
“Clearly,” Herman said, giving the rope a final slash. “What happened?”
“I was ambushed. But they’re still here.”
“Who’s still here?” Daphne whispered.
“No idea. They’re wearing pillowcases over their heads, with small slits cut out for the eyes.”
Daphne frowned. “Not professionals, then.”
Herman strode to his desk, pulled out a drawer, opened a secret compartment, and withdrew a pistol. He handed it to Sheldon, then returned Daphne’s pistol to her, even though doing so could be a recipe for disaster. He withdrew his own pistol from his pocket.
“Where are they?” he asked Sheldon.
“In the passageways. But Herman, there’s more. They have your grandmother.”
CHAPTER
Twenty-Seven
Daphne kept a tight grip on the derringer as she followed Herman down a narrow passageway, Sheldon bringing up the rear.
Who was holding Mildred at the moment, or why they’d decided to take her with them, was anyone’s guess, but the fact that two people had broken into a house that was manned with a full staff . . .
She stopped walking, Sheldon stumbling into her before he regained his balance, steadied her as well, and released a snort. “Have a care, Daphne. It’s close quarters as it is.”
“Forgive me, Sheldon. I’ve just had a thought.”
“What thought?”
“It’s a curious thought, but I’m fairly confident I’m right about my conclusion.”
“You do realize that’s not really an answer, don’t you?” Sheldon whispered.
“Too right it’s not, but I’m still puzzling the matter out.”
“Could you puzzle and walk at the same time?” Herman asked, turning around, which caused the light from the candle he was holding to cast shadows on the wall. “If you’ve forgotten, someone has taken my grandmother.”
“Which is concerning, but Sheldon said the people who absconded with her disappeared into the passageways, so we know she’s probably still in the house. We’ll be better equipped to rescue her if we know whom we’re dealing with.” She closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds, then opened them as pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “Yes, I do believe I’ve figured this out. And even though I was adamant about this with Charles, in this particular instance, it is the butler. We’re looking for Perkins.”
Herman’s brows drew together. “How do you figure that?”
“Because there’s no staff in your house. Sheldon hasn’t said a word about any staff suffering the same fate he did. That means someone gave the entire staff the day off. It had to have been Perkins, unless your housekeeper is the one who is responsible for staffing.”
“No, that job falls to Perkins.”
“Well, there you have it. It’s Perkins, and honestly, you have no idea how much that annoys me because Charles was right. The butler has done it.”
“We don’t know for certain it’s Perkins.”
“It is, although I have no idea who the second person might be, unless it is your housekeeper and they’re colluding together.”
“I can’t see my housekeeper, who attends church services three times a week, assists at several missions in the city, and has to be at least seventy, participating in any shady shenanigans.”
Daphne’s nose wrinkled. “She’s probably not a viable suspect, then.”
“Agreed, but Perkins being a suspect doesn’t make any sense. He knows Sheldon is staying at the house. It’s not as if he could have told Sheldon to take the day off.”
“But I did leave the house today,” Sheldon said. “In fact, I’d planned on being away all day. I needed to go to the bookshop to pick up an order of research books, and then I was going to visit with my parents afterward and stay at their house for dinner. Unfortunately, I stopped at a bakery to enjoy a cup of coffee and spilled that coffee down the front of my shirt. I returned here to change.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Daphne said. “But after you returned here, what happened?”
“I went upstairs to change, and then I went into the library to drop off those books I picked up.”
“Was anyone in the house when you returned home?”
“Well, come to think of it, I didn’t see anyone.”
“Was the front door locked?” Daphne asked.
“No.”
“Hmm,” Daphne said. “Then what happened?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I heard something behind me, but then . . . nothing. I woke up tied to that chair, with Mildred slapping me across the face to get me to come to.” He frowned. “I distinctly remember telling her to stop it, but then she slapped me again—and who knows why she did that because I was conscious. Then two people burst through the bookcase, wearing those pillowcases on their heads.”
“They burst through the bookcase?” Daphne asked. “That must have been quite the sight. Seems like a daunting feat.”
“They didn’t burst through all the books. There’s a passageway located behind the Shakespeare section. They were clutching pistols, and after they caught sight of Mildred, they grabbed hold of her and pulled her through the bookcase, shutting the concealed door after them.”
“What did they look like?”
“Two frightening people with pillowcases over their heads.”
Daphne resisted a snort. “I’m sure they were frightening, Sheldon, because who wouldn’t find people with pillowcases over their heads somewhat disturbing. However, you’re a writer and you can do better. What do you remember about them?”
Sheldon’s brow furrowed. “One was rather taller than the other.”
“That’s it?”
“If you’ve forgotten, I was knocked unconscious. I came to when a seventy-year-old woman slapped me. Can you honestly claim to be surprised that my wits are a bit scattered after all that?”
“I suppose not, but your description is hardly helpful. At least we know one of them is Perkins.”
“You think one of them is Perkins,” Herman said.
“It’s Perkins. As your butler, Perkins knows what’s readily at hand that could be used to hide their faces. Unless your house is run differently, I assume your linens are kept in a locked closet and he would have a key. Sheldon’s unexpected return also explains the front door being locked when we arrived. He wouldn’t want to be taken unaware again while he’s up to whatever it is he’s up to.”
Sheldon blinked. “That’s some amazing deductive reasoning on your part, Daphne, and does explain why your books are so captivating.”
“Thank you, Sheldon.” Daphne smiled. “That’s very nice of you to say. I have to admit that my time at the Bleecker Street Inquiry Agency has allowed me to hone my deductive reasoning abilities and—”
She stopped talking when Herman cleared his throat.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “This is probably not the time for talk of my deductive reasoning abilities.”
“Which are, as Sheldon said, impressive, but we really should see if we can locate my grandmother and, better yet, discover exactly what Perkins and his accomplice are doing.”
She blinked. “You believe me about Perkins?”
&
nbsp; “You’ve presented a compelling argument. All that’s left to do is find out if you’re right,” Herman said before he began making his way silently down the passageway again.
Daphne hurried behind him, tugging on the back of his shirt. “Where are we heading?”
“The dungeon.”
“The what?”
“It’s not a real dungeon. My mother simply named it that because the walls are stone and it’s located deep underneath the house. It’s where my parents stored many of the artifacts they procured on their adventures. Some of those artifacts are somewhat disturbing, like the ball-and-chain they found at a prison in England.” He smiled. “There’s also an elaborate coffin stored there. I believe they found that in Spain. Mother thought it would make a wonderful container for planted flowers, but the reaction from guests who came to visit wasn’t favorable, so into the dungeon the coffin went.”
“I bet that coffin was quite the conversation starter, though.”
“A lady swooned after she got her first glimpse of it, which exactly explains why it was banished to the dungeon,” Herman said, reaching a fork in the passageway and turning right. “You can only access the dungeon through the passageways, but mind your step. We’ll be heading down a steep staircase soon. The dungeon seems a likely place to start, but if my grandmother is not there, we’ll begin searching the other floors.”
“I could write an entire series of mysteries set just in this house,” Daphne said.
“I took a bit of liberty with some of the details of this house in my own book,” Sheldon whispered as they reached the staircase and began creeping down it.
“So there’s actually a dumbwaiter that has hidden doors you can only access if you’re in the dumbwaiter, something you included in chapter seven of your book, I believe?” Daphne asked.
“You had time to read my book? And better yet, remembered details about it?”
“I did, and I’ve got some wonderful news to share if we get out of this alive.”
Herman stopped walking and looked over his shoulder, the candlelight allowing Daphne to see what appeared to be a trace of amusement in his eyes. “Daphne, Sheldon, this is not the time to become distracted with talk of books.”
