The Last Serenade (Sybil Ingram Victorian Mysteries Book 2)

by Amanda DeWees

  He was a very young officer, and that may have been why he was easily intimidated. Then again, Roderick was at his most forbidding. The patrolman fell back, and I took Roderick’s arm. We set out with Kenton and Helaine for the theater.

  Even though we entered by the stage door, far from the auditorium, as soon as we entered we could hear that the atmosphere was one of scarcely contained chaos. Julia and the other actors who remained on the stage were attempting to sing one of the most popular songs from the melodrama, aided by the orchestra, but the audience’s rumble of impatience and frustration almost drowned them out. Kenton directed us to take Helaine to his office while he addressed the audience.

  Helaine was walking like a tired old woman as we led her up the stairs and into the manager’s office. I settled her in a chair and wrapped my mantle around her shoulders, for despite her heavy brocade costume she had begun to shiver. I thought about how much heavier that gown would have become when wet and how irrevocably it would have dragged her down to her death, and shivered myself.

  Roderick looked around for Kenton’s brandy and poured her a glass. When I encouraged her to drink, she took a sip, but from her blank stare I knew that the moment I stopped speaking she forgot I was in the world.

  Conversation in these circumstances seemed futile, so we sat in silence until the manager joined us.

  “That was a bit ugly,” he said. “The audience was highly displeased to learn that the performance is over for tonight, but I told them to leave their names with the ushers and I shall see that they get tickets to another performance.” His brisk manner changed as he bent over Helaine. “How are you, my dear?” he asked gently.

  The face she turned up to him was anguished. “I murdered a man,” she whispered, and began to weep. “Kenton, what shall I do?”

  From his expression I had the feeling that he had suspected this, but knowing it for certain was a blow to his heart. “There, there,” he said. “We’ll think of something.”

  Her hands were shaking so hard I feared she would spill the brandy. Gently I took the glass from her and set it on Kenton’s desk. When I knelt by her chair and took her trembling hands in mine, they were icy cold.

  “Is there anyone we can summon to be with you, Madame Thiers?” Roderick asked, and she shook her head.

  “There is no one,” she said through her tears.

  The remaining three of us exchanged anxious looks. What ought we to do?

  “Pardonnez-moi,” said a new voice. “I hope I am not interrupting.” Inspector Girard had arrived.

  I had no idea what to tell him. As broken as Helaine seemed, I could hardly turn her over to be clapped in irons and led off to jail. But what, then, was the right course? We needed her testimony in order to free Roderick. I gazed at Roderick in an agony of indecision, and his face mirrored the silent struggle I was undergoing.

  It was Kenton who finally replied. “If you are here because of the incident on the bridge, we have nothing to say on the subject.”

  But the detective shook his head. “I am here because of a matter I need to discuss with you, Monsieur Ivey... well, with all of you, in fact.” He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket and presented it with a bow to Helaine, who took it in some surprise. “I am sorry if I am intruding, madame.”

  She hid her face in the handkerchief but shook her head, which he seemed to take as permission to continue.

  “It is an ugly business I must disclose,” the detective said. I had been so absorbed in all that had been going on that only now did I realize how uncomfortable he seemed. For the first time in our brief but memorable acquaintance, he actually looked nervous. Under my gaze he shifted his weight and coughed.

  “To be blunt about it,” he said, the words rushing together, “I have discovered that a corrupt employee in my division has for years been selling evidence to Danton Fournier, who then used it to extort money from a great many unfortunate people. Naturally I have dismissed the officer in question, and my department is setting about repairing the damage that has been done.”

  “How do we come into the matter?” Roderick asked.

  “You were all named in Fournier’s records as potential or actual targets of his blackmail. Monsieur Ivey, this letter addressed to you was found among the many documents Fournier had illicitly obtained. I apologize for the delay in delivering it to you.”

  His voice was so bland that it came as a shock to realize that the piece of paper he was holding out to the manager was so crucial. Kenton’s hand was not quite steady as he reached out to take it from the detective, and he sat down heavily in a chair.

  “Matthew’s note,” he said softly.

  So it had been among Fournier’s documents after all, and Julia had either not found it or, which struck me as more likely, had not been bothered to look for it at all.

  Kenton had not opened it. “But, inspector—you do not need this?”

  The detective shook his head. “I can only apologize for what has happened, Monsieur Ivey. I hope—that is, the department hopes—well, it would be greatly appreciated if—”

  The ghost of a smile touched the older man’s lips. “I do not believe I shall be pressing charges or reporting the matter to your superiors, inspector.”

  “Ah, très bon! Thank you.” Then, as his gaze turned once more to Helaine, his manner grew more serious. “Madame Thiers,” he said, “a document relating to your husband was also found, and I regret to say that it cannot be dismissed from evidence.”

  She raised her head, and the sight of her ravaged face with its streaked makeup made the detective start.

  “If it suggests that I had reason to kill Monsieur Fournier,” she said dully, “it must not be dismissed. For that is exactly what happened.”

  This was something he had not expected. He was still trying to form a response when she continued.

  “I committed the murder,” she said unsteadily, and it was clear that it was taking the greatest effort of will to keep her voice from breaking into a sob. “I learned that Monsieur Fournier was the informer who had caused my husband’s arrest and execution on a false charge, and when fate delivered the man up to me at a time when a weapon was ready to hand, I took the opportunity for revenge.” Exhausted by the effort it took to speak this much, she slumped sideways in her chair.

  “C’est impossible!” The inspector’s consternation was almost comical. He seized the corner of Kenton’s desk as if he needed the support. Glancing from each of us to the next as if hoping one of us would wink and reveal that we were joking, he asked almost plaintively, “Is this true?”

  “You must understand that Madame Thiers was under a tremendous strain,” I said. It was the truth, as far as it went, and I was still unsure how much her own will had guided her when she became a killer. “She had not recovered from her husband’s death.”

  “She can scarcely be said to have been in her right mind,” Kenton added.

  Roderick raised his eyebrows at me, and I knew he was wondering if we should bring up the trap door incident. For now, though, it seemed too much to add to this fraught situation.

  The inspector had to moisten his lips with his tongue a few times before he spoke again. Had the circumstances been less serious I would have taken some satisfaction in his discomfiture after the worry he had caused me.

  “You find me in a delicate position, madame,” he said at last to Helaine. “Arresting a distinguished actress of—forgive me—a certain age, and for the crime of murder, no less, is likely to bring a degree of ridicule and even hostility down upon my department.” He rubbed his chin as he thought. “May I ask if there have been any other such incidents?”

  Again Roderick looked a question at me. I shook my head, both at him and at the detective’s question.

  “I have a proposal,” Kenton said suddenly. He knelt by Helaine’s chair and took her hand in his. “Helaine, would you consent to be placed in my custody? I would take all responsibility for your future actions, and if you felt yo
ur mind sinking under the weight of such a burden again, you could confide in me and look to me for help. Would that be agreeable to you?”

  She reached out for his hands with the eagerness of a drowning man seizing a rescuer’s offered rope. “It would save my very soul,” she whispered.

  “There, inspector,” Kenton said. “Instead of arresting Madame Thiers, which would cause your department such embarrassment—and a public outcry, no doubt—you can assign her to my custody. Any form of violence is completely uncharacteristic of her, so it is pointless to lock her away in prison.”

  That made Helaine draw away and bury her face in her hands in shame. “You were right, Kenton. I have not been myself. You may think me mad, but I have felt as if my husband has been haunting me, as though I have been carrying around the weight of his anguish at having died for nothing. It has become so hard to think...” She groped for the detective’s handkerchief and applied it to her eyes. “I still bear the blame for what I did to that man, of course. And for what I almost did to you, Sybil. I hope you can forgive me, ma chère.”

  “What’s that?” the inspector asked sharply.

  “Nothing that need concern you,” I told him.

  Roderick’s expression was guarded. “The important thing is that Sybil was unhurt,” he said quietly, and I knew that he would not soon forget, even if he forgave, Helaine’s attempt to silence me.

  The inspector cleared his throat. “Monsieur Ivey, your offer is very altruistic. But how can you be so certain Madame Thiers will not harm anyone else?”

  His response showed no hesitancy. “I feel certain that with work to occupy her and with companionship to stave off loneliness, she will no longer be dangerously preoccupied with her husband’s death.” To Helaine he said, “I know what it is like to lose one’s soulmate, my dear, so I think I have an understanding of the kind of torment you have undergone.” Turning to the inspector once more, he said, “Believe me, the best thing for Madame Thiers now is to throw herself back into life and the work that she loves.”

  Her face shone with a tentative hope. “I should like that, if you will help me.”

  He squeezed her hand, and his smile was very tender. “It would be my honor, madame,” he said.

  It was clear from the inspector’s face, however, that he was not yet convinced. “Madame Thiers, your friend has testified most movingly that you are not a threat to anyone. But are you yourself as certain that you will do no further violence?”

  “I am,” she said eagerly.

  He gnawed his lip as he looked at her. “How am I to know I can believe you, madame?”

  A look of distress passed like a cloud over her face. “I... I can only swear on all that is holy to me, on the grave of the great Racine himself, that my madness has passed.”

  I reached for the hand Kenton was not holding and clasped it for a moment. No longer did I feel the emanation of crushing despair that had hovered around her from the time we first met. If her husband had been haunting her, he seemed to have vanished. With her mind free from that oppression, I suspected Helaine would no longer experience dangerous impulses.

  “I think it is a sound plan,” I said. “Inspector, you may believe me or not as you choose, but I feel that Helaine is no longer haunted by her husband’s influence. Her will is her own again.”

  Even as I spoke I doubted that my words meant much to the detective. Perhaps nothing that any of us had said weighed as much with him as the sight of Madame Helaine Thiers, beloved veteran of the French stage, a vision of dignity in distress. If he were to put her in the dock for killing a notorious blackmailer and informer, he might lose his position and become even more of a laughingstock than the newspapers already made of him. He might even be shunned and vilified as much as any Prussian sympathizer among his countrymen.

  It was quite possible that similar scenarios were playing out in his mind, for he said, “If you are prepared to take full responsibility, Monsieur Ivey, I think we have a bargain. And, er, you will say nothing of the little, shall we say, hiccup that resulted in your letter going temporarily astray?”

  The manager gave him the requested assurance. Looking at how solicitously he regarded Helaine, I had a feeling that the new arrangement would benefit him as well as her. Having someone to care for, especially when that someone was a valued and honored friend and colleague, would make him feel needed—and everyone, in my opinion, needed to feel that sometimes.

  Then Roderick asked, “Inspector, will the Sûreté be content without an arrest for the murder of Fournier?”

  The detective gave a grim, tight little smile. “My superiors have made it known that they wish me to cease my investigations into theatrical circles and question Fournier’s known confederates and other denizens of the underworld. If an arrest is made, I suspect the guilty party will be found to be a violent criminal well known to the Sûreté from prior misconduct.” He let that sink in for a moment, then added, “Of course, the discovery of so many illegally obtained documents among Fournier’s belongings means that following up the dozens—or perhaps hundreds—of new lines of inquiry will result in so many suspects that we could be busy interviewing them for months... or until my superiors declare that it is time to move on to more urgent cases.”

  Roderick gave a decisive nod that seemed to close the discussion.

  “Then it’s time Sybil and I were going,” he said briskly. “Inspector, may I assume that my fiancée and I are no longer under suspicion and may leave the city if we wish?”

  The detective bowed. “That is indeed the case, monsieur. I wish the two of you safe travels—bon voyage.”

  So elated were we to be free that we did not even stay to bid farewell before leaving the office. We tarried at the theater only long enough to retrieve Roderick’s violin before setting out for our hotel. Exhausted after the events of the day, I was relieved when he and I were alone together in a fiacre and could talk over all that had happened.

  “I hoped so much that it would not be Helaine,” I said. “Even Clarette could not sense her guilt. Her grief for her husband truly seemed to overwhelm everything else in her thoughts. But now that is gone. Perhaps his spirit is avenged... or maybe he released her when he saw that he had almost driven her to do away with herself.”

  “I’m glad for her sake—and the sake of the citizens of Paris,” Roderick said. “But despite that, if she had succeeded in maiming or killing you by unfastening that trap, you had best believe I would be clamoring for her arrest and the stiffest sentence possible.”

  I sighed and let my head rest against his shoulder. The gentle motion of the carriage and the rhythmic clop of the horse’s hooves was soothing. For the first time in too long, no urgent fears and questions were hanging over us. Except for one question.

  “Roderick,” I said, “have you changed your mind about getting married? You can tell me, you know.”

  There was the slightest of pauses. “Have I been acting as if I’ve changed my mind?”

  It was a genuine inquiry, not an evasion. “I’m not certain,” I said frankly. “You go on mysterious errands that take you away from me, you start to avoid the topic, but you seem to like me as well as ever.”

  “I do like you as well as ever, sweet Sybil.” The husky caress of his voice was very tender. “But when the inspector told me I was the primary suspect, it gave me a very different idea of what our future might hold. I thought I might have to release you from our engagement so that you would not be married to an infamous murderer.”

  “Roderick!” I cried reproachfully, sitting up so that I could look into his eyes. “You do not make a decision that affects the both of us without discussing it with me first.”

  That made him laugh. “You are entirely right, my darling. And I promise I wasn’t going to do something as blackguardly as sending you a letter from jail. I would have consulted you, believe me.”

  “I should hope so.”

  “But then I had another idea. Knowing you as I do, I thou
ght you might have a different wish if I remained in danger of being arrested.” He took my left hand in his and touched my glove where the engagement ring lay beneath. “I thought you might wish to marry beforehand.”

  This made no sense. “You said that it takes an age to be married in France, that it wasn’t practical.”

  “And so it isn’t—for most people.” His smile was roguish. “But for a celebrated foreign couple with a great deal of money, it can be possible to hasten the process. Especially if one throws oneself on the mercy of the American and British ambassadors and is able to recruit their assistance. I didn’t want to tell you until I was certain I could bring it off.”

  A beautiful hope filled me. “You don’t mean...”

  “I do mean, sweetheart. This very week, if you wish it.”

  “Oh, I do,” I said fervently. “I do.”

  Before the week was out I saw an announcement in the newspaper that Le Château Fantastique would reopen after a few days’ hiatus. The cast now featured Marianne as the female lead, but Helaine was still listed as playing her mother.

  “So Julia must have left the cast—whether of her own volition or not,” I commented to Roderick over our midday meal. “I wonder what her next move will be.”

  I did not have to wonder for long. Before we had finished our soup there came a rapid knock on the sitting-room door, and when Mrs. Vise answered Julia herself came sweeping in.

  She was dressed in a dashing traveling ensemble of bottle green moiré, the crowning feature of which was a tilt bonnet trimmed with an ornament of crow feathers, which flashed iridescent green in the light.

  “Here you are,” she said gaily, beaming so that her dimples showed as she glided up to the table. “I could not leave without saying goodbye to the two of you, especially when I heard the news. So you are marrying at last, mon brave! I never thought I should see the day.” She pinched Roderick’s cheek rather harder than accorded with affection.