Larcenous Lady

by Joan Smith

  “Excellent!” Belami exclaimed. “Just as I thought.”

  Réal felt a twinge of annoyance that his marvelous news should have been foreseen. “Some of the clothing of Miss Sutton, they are chez Monsieur Pilgrim. This also I checked, not using the passepartout, but speaking with his valet.” This was a task invented by Réal himself. He slid a sharp glance to Belami, hoping to read astonished gratification on his face but finding only a pensive look.

  “Mrs. Pilgrim will leave them behind. She’ll have no further use for them.”

  “Only the one blue dress is all the trousseau she has brang to him. What else she wears was still with her mother. Many of these items are gone away,” he pointed out.

  Belami considered this a moment. “Perhaps she plans to be Miss Sutton again, or Miss Somebody Else. Did you go over the Suttons’ apartment closely?”

  “With the fine-tooth comb. This I find under the table,” he said, and produced his coup de grâce. It was a wrinkled receipt from Cerboni to Mrs. Sutton for a diamond necklace, priced at nine thousand guineas, paid for in English gold coins. Réal stood with bated breath, expecting to see his master break into shouts of delight.

  Belami just glanced at it. “Nine thousand, eh? That must be all the counterfeit money they had. I wondered at Elvira bothering to haggle the man down. Well done, Réal,” he added, but it wasn’t said in the proper tone. Réal had failed to astound, and dissatisfaction coiled like a snake in his breast.

  “Now what jobs I am to do?” he asked, hoping to pull victory from the ashes yet.

  Belami touched his finger to chin while he conjectured what had to be done. “Elvira’s wearing the diamond necklace. I begin to see all my planning and arranging of second disguises was unnecessary. Carlotta can’t demand the necklace till Elvira’s leaving, or we’d notice it was missing. What we do, Réal, is circulate, keeping an eye on Elvira and Contessa Ginnasi. When Elvira starts making noises about leaving, we can’t lose sight of them. The exchange won’t take a minute.”

  “This is true.” Réal nodded, but he saw no way to distinguish himself in the business. “I shall keep my eyes very much busy,” he decided, and stationed himself at the door, arms crossed, to guard the suspects.

  The dance finished and Lucy went to sit with her mother and Elvira. Within thirty seconds, Deirdre strolled along beside them. Belami caught her eye, and she joined him. He hastily explained his deductions. “It may happen sooner than you think,” she said. “Pronto’s been nagging Elvira to go home. She mentioned a moment ago that she has a headache, but she just wanted to lie down for a half hour. The conte offered to send for a headache powder. She said she’d wait a moment. I noticed she kept glancing toward Carlotta.”

  “Then they’re getting ready for the swap. We should soon see Carlotta speak to a couple of gentlemen in black dominoes—she’s brought in some police. They’ll be kept beyond range of her voice, but close enough that she can call for help if needed. Trust me.”

  They scanned the floor for Carlotta. She looked around and spoke to one man wearing a black domino. The man walked away rather quickly and spoke to another. Carlotta watched them, then strolled nonchalantly toward the conte, who was sitting with the duchess and all the Suttons. She smiled and chatted a moment with her husband, then turned to Elvira. Elvira touched her hand to her head. Carlotta said something, then Elvira rose and left the room.

  Carlotta remained, chatting to her conte. “She’s not going!” Deirdre exclaimed.

  “Patience, my dear. They don’t want to make it obvious.” A guest came along and asked Carlotta for the next dance. She rose, and they began walking to the floor. “You must be wrong, Dick,” Deirdre said.

  Just as the sets were beginning to form, Carlotta spoke to her partner and walked away, out the door after Elvira.

  “I knew it,” Dick said softly. The tight knot in his stomach eased to satisfaction.

  Deirdre felt as though a herd of wild horses had invaded her insides. She looked toward Dick, a frightened shadow in her eyes. He smiled with infinite satisfaction. “This is it!” he said softly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  By the time Belami and Deirdre got to the doorway, Carlotta and Elvira had disappeared, but Réal stood bristling with eagerness. ‘

  “Which way did they go?” Belami demanded.

  Réal pointed down the hall, to the left. “They went in at the third door.”

  “The music room,” Deirdre said.

  “You stay here and don’t let anyone else join us,” Belami said, and began hastening toward the door. He saw a pair of black dominoes loitering at the other end of the hall.

  Réal stood like a pointer dog, rigidly alert, staring after his master. He didn’t see Pronto coming from the ballroom. Deirdre saw him and was filled with apprehension.

  “Bonsoiro, Deirdre,” he said. “We didn’t have our dance yet. Afraid I’ll have to disappoint you tonight. I’m taking Elvira home to—heh, heh. Bit of a headache actually. No offense, m’dear. She said to meet her here in half an hour.”

  “She’s—she’s upstairs,” Deirdre lied quickly. “She’s only been gone a moment, Pronto. You’re early.”

  “This ain’t the time to be late. Hope the headache powder works. I’ll just go and get the other ladies’ wraps. The Suttons have decided to come home with us.”

  Deirdre scrambled in her mind to detain him a moment.

  “How will you get home? You dismissed your boat, I think?”

  “No problem. Carlotta offered the use of hers. Stands to reason she won’t need it. She’s already home. ‘Scuso-moi. I’d best get those wraps.”

  “There’s no hurry,” Deirdre said. “The other ladies aren’t here yet. I haven’t had an opportunity to congratulate you, Pronto.”

  “Course you have. Wished me happy a dozen times.”

  “I mean on your costume,” she invented. “So clever. Where did you get it?”

  “Off the bed. Cut a hole in the sheet, you see, and just slid it over my head. Got the wig and beard at the costume shop where Elvira got her outfit. Now I really must—”

  Deirdre reached for his arm to detain him. As she glanced down the hall, she saw Dick stood at the doorway, listening. The two policemen were watching him closely, but their orders were apparently not to move unless the contessa called them.

  “You haven’t complimented me on my outfit,” she said, smiling to distract him.

  “Very nice. Very nice. And now I—”

  “It’s a shepherdess costume,” she said, turning him from the doorway by a gentle pressure on his arm. “I’m the one who should be carrying the crook. Did King Solomon use a crook?”

  “Ain’t a crook. It’s a staff. All old gaffers use ‘em. Charney does. Solomon did, I daresay.”

  Her delaying devices began to wear thin. “It’s a very nice staff,” she said.

  Pronto shook his head sadly. “I know I used to roll my eyes at you when you and Dick was on the outs, Deirdre, but it’s too late for us now. You must remember I’m a married man now. Elvira’s waiting for me. She’d have my head on a pole if she caught me flirting with you.”

  “She’s not waiting for you. She’s lying down with a headache. Half an hour, she said.”

  “In sickness and in health. You heard the vows. A husband’s place is by his wife’s side. Just let go of my arm.” He firmly removed her fingers and began walking down the hall. Deirdre looked helplessly, then began to follow him.

  “She’s upstairs,” she said.

  “I’m going to say good night to Dick. See him down the hall there.”

  While this was going forth, Belami stood with his ear to the door, listening. The door was not on the catch. He could see a line of light coming from the room and hear quite well.

  “Here’s the money,” Elvira said. “Where are the dies?”

  “I’ll examine the money first,” Carlotta answered. “I wouldn’t want any of your homemade efforts, Mrs. Pilgrim.”

  “It’s
legitimate Italian paper money,” Elvira said.

  “So I see, but it’s not very much money, is it?”

  “It’s worth a thousand pounds, the price agreed on.”

  “That was several days ago. I’ve been offered more than twice that amount since then. Lord Belami was exceedingly eager to get hold of this evidence. The penalty for counterfeiting is harsh in England. Hanging, I believe,” she taunted.

  “It’s all I have.”

  “I’m not difficult to deal with. I’ll take legal tender. Say—your new necklace?”

  Belami heard a sharp intake of breath from Elvira. He pushed the door open a small crack, fearing Carlotta might find her life threatened. But Elvira was just looking, with a cold, angry face, as Carlotta spoke on. “It’s that or I turn you over to the police, Mrs. Pilgrim. Right here, in public, at my ball. I always take the precaution of having a few policemen attend to protect my guests’ jewelry. The men are within shouting distance. Come now, my dear, don’t sulk. You’ll have your dies back and can make up a new batch of money.”

  “You daren’t call the police,” Elvira said. “I’ll tell them you stole my dies.”

  “Are you sure you want to publicly claim possession of counterfeiting equipment? And who do you think the police will protect? A counterfeiter, a foreigner in the country, or the Contessa Ginnasi—and Lord Belami and the Duchess of Charney?”

  Belami couldn’t see much—just a line of Carlotta’s back behind the organ screen. He heard a rustle, then a short shriek. He saw Carlotta move violently and pushed open the door. Elvira had one hand on Carlotta’s shoulder, the other hand was raised, as if to strike her. Something glittered in Elvira’s raised hand. In an instant he saw it was a small dagger and realized that swooshing sound had been caused by Elvira’s pulling the dagger from the folds of her gown.

  There was a sudden convergence of people at the open doorway. The Italian police heard the scream and came running. Pronto heard it and pelted forward, Deirdre fast behind him. Réal wasn’t about to be left out of such excitement and elbowed them all aside, as he couldn’t see over their shoulders. He had a prime view of his master performing an act as heinous as murder. Belami raised his closed fist and lashed out to strike a crushing blow on the jaw of a very beautiful lady, who was the bride of his best friend. Elvira went reeling against the organ.

  “Sacrebleu. Il est complètement fou!” Réal gasped.

  Pronto stared, speechless. He felt he had fallen into a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening. Dick punching a lady—his lady! Even as he watched, Dick leaned over her inert form and began pulling her from the floor, looking as though he meant to land her another facer. Pronto raised his staff and brought it down with all his force on Belami’s skull. A ringing, hollow sound filled the room and Belami fell on top of Elvira. Pronto knew perfectly well he’d killed his best friend. He was surprised to hear Dick’s head was hollow. He was sure it would be full of brains. He was relieved to remember it was all just a nightmare.

  Deirdre screamed like a banshee. She couldn’t believe Dick had struck a lady either, but of greater horror was that Pronto had possibly rendered Dick a moonling for life. She wrenched the staff from Pronto but hadn’t the strength to lift it. Her arms had turned to string—limp, useless. Carlotta surveyed the debacle and emitted a low, gurgling laugh.

  She took the two policemen by the arms and pushed them out the door, speaking in Italian. “This is a purely domestic squabble. I shan’t be requiring your services at the moment. Do go and have a glass of wine. No, on second thought, go and keep an eye on the English ladies, Mrs. Sutton and her daughter. Don’t let them leave.” Then she closed the door.

  Réal observed the scene and saw a way to polish his tarnished reputation. Monsieur Pilgrim had spoken of using the contessa’s gondola, but the master thought otherwise. There might be an enemy gondola at the landing, ready to carry the miscreants off. If this was the case, Nick, the vaurien, had not discovered it. He went hurrying off to the dock.

  Belami was the first to recover. He shook his head and stared up into the petrified face of Pronto Pilgrim. A pair of blue eyes stared back at him, full of outraged accusation. “Pronto, it’s not what you think,” he said.

  “I ain’t blind. I know what I saw. You’ll be hearing from my second, sir.” He elbowed Belami aside and lifted Elvira’s head tenderly into his arms. “Wine—somebody bring wine,” he ordered. No one moved.

  “That’s Claude Jalbert,” Belami said, pointing at the body in Pronto’s arms.

  Pronto shook his head and looked at Deirdre. “I’ve addled his brains with that blow.”

  Deirdre looked uncertainly from Elvira to Dick. Was Dick deranged? She went and studied Elvira’s still face. In repose, and lying down, the jaw assumed a larger proportion than before. The nose appeared more masculine from this position.

  “It’s true,” Dick assured them all.

  It was Carlotta who kept her head. “That should be easy enough to verify,” she said, and bent over Elvira’s inert form to begin unfastening the bosom of her gown. Pronto pushed her aside roughly. His hands were stroking Elvira’s black hair. He slid a look to where Carlotta had loosened the gown and noticed something amiss. Elvira’s lovely bosoms had gone awry. One had fallen down under her armpit, the other had moved to the middle of her chest. “Egad! There’s something havey-cavey going on here.”

  Elvira opened her eyes and let off a string of curses in a guttural voice never heard to utter from her lips before. Pronto was thrown aside, where he stumbled to his feet, frowning in consternation beneath his wig, which was sliding to one side.

  Claude leaped to his feet and grabbed Pronto in front of him. The dagger was still in his hand. He pushed the point of it against Pronto’s neck. “One move and I kill this bastard,” he growled. “I’ve been wanting to long enough.”

  Deirdre felt Belami’s fingers reach surreptitiously for hers. He removed the crook from her hand, and in an instant it flashed in the air, the hook catching on Claude’s wrist and jerking it violently. The dagger fell, and before it reached the floor, Belami was on top of Claude, his fingers around his throat. She was convinced now that Elvira was Claude, but some sense of horror lingered to see Dick fighting with what still looked like a lady.

  “Someone stop him!” Carlotta shrieked. “I don’t want a murder at my ball!”

  Deirdre pulled Belami up from the floor, where Claude now lay motionless. Carlotta bent over, her back carefully angled to hide what she was up to, while she pretended to be reviving him. While the others argued amongst themselves, Carlotta carefully removed the diamonds from Claude’s neck. She put them in her reticule and pulled Claude’s shawl up around his throat to conceal the loss. In the excitement of the moment, no one was likely to notice.

  Réal was the first one to come to the door. He looked around and announced, “I have the Styger tied up. Nick, blind h’as well as stupid, let him land at the dock. He is easily fooled, that one. Styger is wearing the Italian gondolier’s hat and coat. Poof!” he said with disdain, to show his opinion of such a paltry attempt at disguise. “I ask Styger what time it is, and he say in English he don’t know. I dunk him quick into the water, hit him with the oar, and bind him up in the boat.”

  “Excellent work, Réal,” Belami complimented.

  “You want I should call the policemans now?”

  “Yes, if you please,” Carlotta said. “I want this rubbish removed from my home as quickly as possible. Tell them to take Mrs. Sutton and Miss Lucy out with them. I shall fetch some wine. I’m sure we’re all faint from excitement.”

  She took her reticule with her and tossed the diamonds into a large urn that stood in the hallway, before returning with the wine. Réal, walking silently behind her, watched this move. His heart fluttered with a nearly unbearable excitement. He called the police. One officer had taken the Sutton ladies into custody. Réal directed him to take them outside and wait. Before rejoining the gathering, Réal retrieved the diamon
ds and put them in his pocket.

  When Carlotta returned with the wine, Claude began to revive and made a gargling sound, clutching at his throat and pointing to her.

  “Shouldn’t he be bound and gagged?” Carlotta suggested. She handed Pronto the wine tray and undertook to perform the chore herself, using a scarf for the hands. But even before they were secure, she tightly tied her handkerchief around Claude’s mouth to prevent his complaining about losing the necklace.

  Pronto poured himself a stout restorative and gulped. Thank God it was only a nightmare, but Elvira looked very real, lying there on the floor with her eyes bulging in vexation, as though she were trying to tell him something. Wanting a glass of wine, very likely. No point wasting wine on a nightmare. He poured himself another glass and drank thirstily. It was beginning to be borne in on him that if this wasn’t a nightmare, he was in a bit of an embarrassing situation.

  “There’s a set of counterfeit dies here somewhere that we’ll need for evidence,” Belami said to the policemen, and began looking around for them. They had fallen to the floor. He explained briefly who the prisoners were, and that they should be kept under close guard. “I’ll go down to the station in the morning and clear up any details,” he said. “You’ll want to get in touch with Cerboni, the jeweler from the Merceria, and keep the counterfeit money he has for evidence as well. We’ll contact Hoppner, the British consul. He’ll arrange safe passage to England for the Jalberts.”

  The prisoner was led out the door. Carlotta drew a contented sigh. “I must return to my party. The conte will be wondering what has happened to me. So kind of you to confine this little tempest to a teapot, Belami. Why, it’s enough to ruin a lady’s reputation, inviting a parcel of thieves to her party.” She laughed gaily and returned to the ball.

  Pronto poured his third glass of wine and cast a woebegone eye on Belami. Dick knew his friend was about to become thoroughly disguised. It seemed the best occupation for him, till he could invent a story to cover Pronto’s shame.