“Wait outside while I speak with Madam Heidi and the others.”
“That isn’t what we agreed to.”
“They’ll be more willing to talk if I go in alone. Please don’t argue. I won’t be long and should I need you, I promise you’ll hear me.”
He reluctantly agreed, and I went inside. This time, a woman who identified herself as the Blue Moon’s maid-of-all-work met me at the bottom of the stairs. With a huff and a shrug she brought me upstairs to the parlor and bade me wait while she inquired whether Madam Heidi was receiving or no.
“You again, eh?” Madam Heidi appeared in the doorway but didn’t linger to scrutinize me as she had upon our first meeting. Her hair fell loose down her back and over her shoulders today, and with her head partially down a spiraling lock fell forward to hide her face from me. She walked past me to a window overlooking the wharf and the harbor. “What is it this time, Miss Cross?”
“Won’t you please sit with me, Miss Perry, so we might talk?” I found I couldn’t bring myself to address her by her working title, Madam Heidi, to her face, even though I’d come to think of her by that name. The woman herself had told me to call her that, yet the appellation seemed to stick in my throat as perhaps too blatant a reminder of what went on here.
“Go ahead and talk, Miss Cross.”
I shifted on the sofa to face her without craning my neck. “Miss Perry, I believe you are well aware of the events that take place on and around this wharf. Is that a fair assumption?”
She hesitated. “Go on.”
Since she hadn’t denied it, I assumed my guess to be correct. “I believe there may be connections between several recent occurrences. The burglaries on Thames Street, the fire at Ellsworth Cigars, and Lilah’s death. And I believe the connection has something to do with this wharf.”
“I don’t know anything about Lilah’s death, Miss Cross.”
The sun coming through the window gilded her outlines, lending her the fanciful appearance of an angel in a medieval painting. I wished she would turn around. I didn’t like speaking to her back. “Have you seen any suspicious comings or goings in recent days or weeks?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She swept the lock of hair away from her face.
“Men who shouldn’t ordinarily have business on the wharf, and who weren’t here to conduct business with your girls. Especially wealthy gentlemen. Have you or any of the girls overheard any odd conversations? Seen exchanges of money?”
“This is a wharf, Miss Cross. There are always all manner of men about and money exchanging hands.”
My exasperation building, I suppressed a sigh. “What about fear, Miss Perry? Are people—shopkeepers in particular—becoming wary of a growing situation along Thames Street?”
“What kind of situation?” The beginnings of boredom entered her voice, and I suspected my time here would soon be cut short.
“Specifically, Miss Perry, have you heard of demands being made, along with threats if people don’t comply?”
“No, I have not.” Yet as she spoke, her back stiffened. She tossed her head in an attempt, I believed, to distract my attention away from her reaction to my question, but I hadn’t imagined it.
I rose from the sofa and went to the window. As I faced her, I turned her toward me with a firm hand on her shoulder. “Miss Perry—”
I broke off, staring. Shock and dismay held me immobile for several long moments. A black-and-purple bruise surrounded her left eye, nearly sealing it shut, and a weal stood out red against her cheek. She had tried, unsuccessfully, to conceal her injuries with a thick dusting of powder, which caked in the creases of her swollen flesh.
“Whoever it is,” I said, reaching my fingertips toward but not quite touching her bruises, “has been here. Has threatened you to keep silent. Miss Perry, I am so sorry this happened to you. I can help you if you’ll trust me.”
“Trust you?” She pulled away, taking a backward step. “What I trust, Miss Cross, is that you will ask troublesome questions until someone else gets hurt. Go away. Go back to wherever you came from—to those Vanderbilts of yours. You’re not one of us. You can have no inkling what it’s like to survive on little but your wits.”
“That isn’t true. I assure you I am not a Vanderbilt. I rely on myself and am proud to do so.” Her skeptical glare silenced me, and I saw my claim for what it was: all but a lie. Yes, I made my own way in the world as much as was possible, but I also had the security of knowing my Vanderbilt relatives would never allow me to be thrown out of my house and into the street. They would never suffer me to resort to such desperate means as those to be found at the Blue Moon. And surely if anyone ever laid their hands on me in such a way, my cousins would stop at nothing to see that that person paid dearly for his efforts.
I did not know what it was to be a woman such as those who worked for Madam Heidi, nor did I know the path Heidi Perry had trodden to reach her present circumstances. To claim otherwise made a mockery of their struggles. Yet I could not leave without some form of answer.
“Please tell me this much. Have you been threatened?”
She thrust her face close to mine. “Do you think this is a lover’s touch?”
“What demands were made? Did this individual want money? Your silence on some matter? What?”
Her lips compressed. She turned back toward the window.
“The truth will come out, you know,” I murmured.
“Then let it. It shan’t come from my lips.”
I grasped her wrist, expecting to be shaken off. Madam Heidi merely stiffened again. “Don’t you realize that by remaining silent, you’re allowing this person to go on hurting not only you, but others as well?”
Her face snapped back toward me. “Don’t you realize that by keeping silent, I’m staying alive?”
I released her. “For how much longer? A man is dead, or had you forgotten? The manager of Ellsworth Cigars, Miss Perry. He died in a fire that in all likelihood was no accident. My guess is he refused whatever demands were made, and his life became forfeit as a message to every other business owner along Lower Thames Street.”
“He was not the owner of the shop.”
“No, but he might as well have been. He had been in the Ellsworth family’s employ for nearly a decade. The day-today running of the business was left to him. I very much doubt he consulted with the Ellsworths on anything more than the monthly profits.” Even as I made the claim, I resolved to speak with Dominic Ellsworth as soon as possible. The man might still be distraught over the fate of his business, his building, and his manager, but he would surely wish to aid in apprehending the person responsible.
“Madam Heidi,” I said, forgetting my aversion to using her professional name, “who did this to you? I promise you can trust me to be discreet.” I inched closer to her and moved my hand to her shoulder, hoping to inspire confidence through physical, and gentle, contact. “Was it Anthony Dobbs?”
She blinked and darted a glance at me before gazing back out the window. “Tony Dobbs? He wouldn’t dare.”
I followed her gaze to the wharf below us. Anthony Dobbs and several other men labored with shovels unloading coal from a steamer ferry onto the wheeled bins that ran on tracks into the warehouse, where it would await pickup by the many drays that would disperse the deliveries throughout the city. It was heavy, filthy work that left the men as covered in coal dust as a miner.
“And Anthony Dobbs has never demanded money from you for any reason?”
She gave a laugh. “Oh, he’s asked. Even demanded it back when he worked for the cops. But he’s never gotten a cent from me.”
“What about Stanford Whittaker?” I asked on a sudden hunch based on what I knew of the man. With all of his money, robbery seemed out of his realm of interest, but violence? Even against women? Not difficult to envision.
Stanford Whittaker might not have needed the money, but what about his friend, Harry Lehr? Mr. Lehr was always notoriously short of funds.
<
br /> “Mr. Whittaker didn’t do this,” she replied, her voice flat as if she answered by rote. “Nor anyone else you’re going to ask me about.”
“How do you know whom I’m going to ask you about?”
“Miss Cross, it’s time for you to—”
Ordering me from the house would have to wait, for another voice from the doorway spoke over hers. “I’m back, Madam Heidi. Would you let—Em, what are you doing here?”
I spun about to face my half brother, standing in the doorway. “I might ask you the very same thing, Brady Gale.” A blush of combined anger and chagrin suffused my face, and I plunked my hands on my hips. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Yes, well, this time it’s true.” In gentlemanly fashion, he removed his boater and held it in both hands before his chest. “I’m here with Hannah.”
“What?” My mouth dropped open and then snapped shut. A vein lashed in my temple. “Of all the dastardly, contemptible stunts you’ve ever pulled—”
“Good grief, Em. Hannah is here as a nurse, and I accompanied her to make sure she was safe on the docks. This isn’t our only stop for the day.”
Beside me, Madam Heidi stood nodding her consensus with Brady’s claims. “She comes every few weeks to check on the girls, make sure they’re fit. She’s upstairs now.”
“Oh . . . I . . . You didn’t tell me anyone else was here,” I said to Madam Heidi.
“You didn’t ask.”
I turned back to Brady. “I’m sorry. I should have known better.”
“Yes, you should have.” He crossed the room to me and grasped my shoulders. He grinned. “Although for the life of me, I don’t know why. Now, why are you here?”
“I’m here because it’s occurred to me that recent events might not be random. Lilah Buford’s death. The burglaries. The fire at Ellsworth Cigars.” I gestured at Madam Heidi. “Didn’t you notice her left eye?”
“I didn’t come all the way upstairs earlier.” Brady gently turned Madam Heidi’s chin with his fingertips. He let out an oath. “What kind of devil did that to you? Who was it?”
“Let me go. It doesn’t matter. This sort of thing comes with my line of work.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Brady turned to me. “Em, we’ve got to make her tell us.”
“I’ve tried, Brady.”
“Then we’ll call Jesse in.”
Madam Heidi lurched away and then rounded on us. “Jesse? Do you mean that policeman?”
Brady nodded. “Detective, yes.”
“Out! Both of you.” She strode from the room and to the foot of the stairs that led to the third floor. “Miss Hanson, time for you to be going. Now, Miss Hanson.” She whirled to face us again. “You’ll wait for her downstairs. And don’t come back. If you send that detective, I’ll have my girls tell him I’m not here.”
“All right, we’ll go.” I held out my hands as if that could magically calm the woman. With a look at Brady, I led the way past her to the staircase and down to the tavern. She hovered above us on the second-floor landing and watched us until we disappeared from her view, into the pub room.
Brady rolled his eyes and then raised a hand to his nose as the pub’s odors surrounded us. “I think it’s best if we wait outside for Hannah.”
“Let’s. Derrick will be waiting to hear what happened. I suppose you saw him on your way inside.”
Brady shook his head as he reached for the latch and opened the outer door. “Not a sign of him. And I don’t see him now, either.”
A burst of panic propelled me outside and, after glancing up and down the alley, around the corner of the building. I knew Derrick to be a man who could take care of himself, but once he had been caught off guard, injured, and left in a garden shed where he might have died.
I didn’t stop until I found myself on the wharf proper, surrounded by workers. At first few of them noticed me. Anthony Dobbs and his fellow coal workers continued with their shoveling. Across the way from them, another group unloaded a shipment of firewood from a barge. Several others stood outside the dry goods store haggling over prices. I searched for Derrick among them. Little by little, activity ceased. Chatter ebbed until the only sounds were the cawing of gulls and the slap of water against the pilings and boat hulls. Faces turned in my direction. Shovel in hand, Anthony Dobbs began making his way toward me.
“Can’t stay away, eh, Miss Cross? If you aren’t careful, people will begin to talk.” He didn’t stop until he stood nearly toe-to-toe with me. “What brings your meddling self back so soon?”
“I . . .” I cast my glance quickly around me, once more searching for Derrick. “I’m looking for someone.”
“Who? Me?” Sniggering meanly, he set the tip of his shovel on the ground and leaned on its handle.
The image of Madam Heidi’s blackened eye formed in my mind, along with the possibility that her assailant presently stood before me, her denial notwithstanding. Experience, or rather Brady’s experiences with the man, had revealed his violent streak clearly enough.
“No, Mr. Dobbs, not you. Never you.” I met his gaze without blinking. “Not if I can help it.” Abhorrence radiated back and forth between us. I believed mine to be justified; I didn’t understand where his originated, for his disregard for my family began long before our encounters of two summers ago. He was simply mean-spirited, loathsome. Again the image of Madam Heidi’s bruised face flashed behind my eyes. I pushed out a breath. “Did you hit her?”
He scoffed. “Who?”
“If you must ask that, the accusation can’t be a foreign one to you.” For some reason, I lowered my voice. “Heidi Perry. Did you strike her?”
He hesitated, his eyes narrowing a fraction. “No. It wasn’t me.”
“I don’t believe you.” I started to turn away but he caught my arm.
“One of these days, Miss Cross, you’re going to walk into a situation you can’t control. And you’re going to get hurt. Very hurt.”
“Release me at once and don’t you dare threaten me.”
“Let her go, Dobbs.” Brady was suddenly there. I hadn’t heard his approach, hadn’t seen him coming. He seized Anthony Dobbs’s wrist and spoke through gritted teeth. “Let my sister go or I swear, I’ll break your arm.”
Dobbs’s fingers relaxed a fraction and I whisked my arm away from him, cradling it with my other hand. Brady had yet to let go, and his knuckles stood out bone white, his hand locked so fiercely around Dobbs’s wrist that I believed, in that moment, he had the ability to make good on his threat.
But then, I didn’t doubt Anthony Dobbs possessed the same ability.
I darted a glance around at the others surrounding us. Some faces were familiar, other not. I remembered what Derrick had said, that not all dockworkers were Newporters, and we could not count on help from that quarter. “Brady, let’s go.”
He started to move, but without warning Dobbs swung his shovel and struck Brady square in the gut. The flat of the head caught him rather than the edge, or the implement might have sliced into him. As it was, Brady doubled over, his hat tumbling to the ground, and Dobbs prepared to swing again. I cried out, even made a grab to stay his arm. His workmate, the man who had defused our encounter in the alley that first day, hurried over to us.
“Let it go, Tony. It isn’t worth it. You told me this lady is a friend of your old partner’s. Do you really think you can win this round?”
Dobbs stood frozen, a debate clearly being waged in his mind. Then he slowly lowered his makeshift weapon. “A pity you didn’t hang two summers ago, Gale. Would have been good riddance.”
Brady scooped up his boater and straightened with a groan. He exchanged a chilling glare with Dobbs. “We’ll see who hangs.”
“Let’s go.” I grabbed Brady’s forearm and tugged him along. As we circled the Blue Moon back to the alley, I looked up to see Madam Heidi still at the window, staring down on us. Sh
e spotted me and our gazes met. As if I were a complete stranger, she turned away and disappeared into the room.
Chapter 12
We reunited with Derrick and Hannah in the alley. “Where were you?” I demanded in lieu of a more civil greeting.
“I was upstairs, with the girls,” Hannah replied, looking baffled. “Where were the two of you?”
“No, Hannah, I’m sorry.” I gestured at Derrick none too gently. “Where were you? You said you’d wait for me. You have no idea what almost just happened. Brady might have been killed.” I very nearly shouted the charge. Fear of what almost happened to Brady and what might have happened to Derrick ruled my actions.
“Em, it’s all right,” Brady murmured, but he continued to hold an arm against his stomach. “It was better Derrick wasn’t there, or it might have become a brawl.”
“What brawl?” Derrick surveyed Brady. “What happened to you?”
“Anthony Dobbs struck him in the stomach with a shovel, that’s what happened.” I drew a sharp breath. At my words, Hannah gasped and moved to Brady’s side, ready to catch him should he fall over. “Would you mind telling us what happened to you? Why did you suddenly disappear?”
“I didn’t disappear. I happened to notice Dominic Ellsworth driving by in his cabriolet. I assumed he was going to his building down the way so I followed him. I thought you’d be inside longer, and I didn’t want to lose the opportunity.” Derrick’s explanation drained the wind from my sails, for I couldn’t but admit I would have done the same.
“Oh,” I said feebly. “In that case . . . I’m sorry. I’d thought . . .”
Derrick showed me a wounded look. “You thought I abandoned you?”
“Of course not. I thought something had happened to you. That’s why I went around to the main wharf.”
“And that’s where she met up with Anthony Dobbs wielding a shovel,” Brady put in. Speaking cost him a visible effort, and Hannah wrapped an arm around his waist when he doubled over again. “Sorry. I’m fine. Just hurts a bit.”
Murder at Chateau sur Mer Page 17
