by Kate Parker
THE KILLING AT KALDAIRE HOUSE
KATE PARKER
JDP Press
A dying man. The painting within her reach. What’s a thief to do?
Talented London milliner Emily Gates creates amazing hats for Society ladies, but to collect from those who don’t pay her bill, she burglarizes their homes. She needs every penny to send her deaf brother to school. Late one night, she sneaks in to find Lord Kaldaire badly injured in his study. Unwilling to abandon him, she calls for help.
When Kaldaire dies without revealing who attacked him, his widow agrees to keep Emily’s secrets – if Emily will help find her husband’s killer. A bigger danger is a Scotland Yard inspector who threatens to arrest Emily—unless she spies on her father’s family of swindlers and conmen. Worst of all are the attacks from an unknown assailant. What will Emily face first, jail or death?
This cozy mystery is set in the era of My Fair Lady and Mary Poppins, of early automobiles and aeroplanes, and of King Edward VII and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. If you enjoyed the Victorian Bookshop Mysteries, you’ll like Emily Gates and the collection of aristocrats and thieves in her world as they step into the 20th century.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual occurrences or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Historical events and personages are fictionalized.
The Killing at Kaldaire House
copyright ©2018 by Kate Parker
All rights reserved. With the exception of brief quotes used in critical articles or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
ISBN: 978-0-9976637-0-9 [e-book]
ISBN: 978-0-9976637-1-6 [print]
Published by JDP Press
Cover design by Kim Killion of The Killion Group, Inc.
Digital Formatting by Author E.M.S.
Table of Contents
THE KILLING AT KALDAIRE HOUSE
About the Book
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Also by Kate Parker
Author’s Notes
About the Author
Dedication
To Ken, in exchange for your practical advice early in my career, I’m giving you a family that will make you smile.
To Corey, Adrienne, and Jen, for turning out normal despite your mother’s fascination with murder. Your Dad and I are blessed.
Chapter One
London in the reign of King Edward VII
If I hadn’t been desperate, I wouldn’t have been creeping around the ground floor of Kaldaire House late at night. My heart pounded harder when I saw a light on in the room I planned to burgle, leaving me with two unpalatable choices—leave without the Lady in Blue or risk being captured. Curiosity, always lurking on my shoulder, pushed me forward. Respectability, and my longing for it, held me back.
I tiptoed up to the doorway, luckily avoiding any squeaking boards, and opened the door ever so slightly. The light, after all the darkness in the house, made me blink. All I could see was a sliver of the room. Dark, well-polished paneling, a red Oriental carpet just inside the entrance, and a corner of a messy desk. Lord Kaldaire had people to clean up after him. Why would he keep his desk in such disarray?
Chancing my luck, I pushed the door open a little further. Now I could see that papers had slid off the desktop and a book lay on the edge of the carpet. I couldn’t believe Lady Kaldaire would allow this in her otherwise well-ordered house.
When I’d been here in the daylight I’d found my route to the study and the painting. It had taken me less than half a minute to find my way in complete silence to Lord Kaldaire’s study. But now I was wasting precious time lingering outside the door, raising my chances of being caught.
Getting caught would mean my ruin. The end of everything. My business. My reputation. My dreams.
I should have crept out the way I came. Instead, I nudged the door a little more and rubbed my nose to keep from sneezing at the smell of pipe tobacco.
Wait. Lord Kaldaire didn’t smoke a pipe. He was a cigar man.
Looking to the right, I could see a thin plume of smoke rising from an ashtray, but there was no pipe there. He must have had a guest earlier and left a single light on when he showed the man out.
I straightened. That would mean someone, his lordship or a servant, was coming back.
I needed to move fast. Matthew’s future depended on my taking the Lady in Blue hostage. Supposedly, the risqué painting of his great-grandmother was the careless Lord Kaldaire’s favorite possession. How else, after numerous dunning notices and personal pleas, would I convince him to pay the huge millinery bill Lady Kaldaire had run up?
I slipped into the room and glanced around. No one else was there. I let out a sigh unimpeded by a corset and was reminded once more of why I preferred to do my housebreaking, or bill collection, in boys’ clothes.
One would think in 1905, with King Edward replacing his mother on the throne and motorized carriages running wild on London streets, times were modern enough I could wear trousers and forgo a corset. But I couldn’t. Some things still caused a scandal.
And although ten years my junior, at fourteen Matthew was nearly as tall as I was. For tonight’s efforts, I was forced to wear his clothes.
As I made my way to the far side of the room, I kept my distance from the desk for fear of triggering a landslide of papers. The entire house seemed to hold its breath with me as I maneuvered toward my target. The painting was hung in a recess, invisible from the door but not from Lord Kaldaire’s chair.
Once around the desk, I froze. Lord Kaldaire lay facedown on the floor behind his leather chair, spilling blood on the blue patterned carpet. The back of his head had been smashed in with the equally bloody, ornate marble bust of Sophocles on the floor next to him.
I stood there for a moment, blinking in shock and trying not to gag on the metallic smell of blood. All the colors around me started to swirl together. I bent over, breathing hard through my mouth with my hands propped on my knees.
I’d only met him a few times, but I couldn’t help thinking, Poor old sod.
I had two choices. Thinking he was dead and not wanting to hang, I moved toward the recess where the Lady in Blue hung, planning to grab it and go. Maybe I could sell the painting to recoup at least some of what Lady Kaldaire owed.
But then Lord Kaldaire groaned.
He was alive. I gave up the idea of running away with the painting. Feeling a weight settle on my shoulders, I walked over and pulled on the bell rope.
It took a half-dozen pulls and two minutes before a sleepy-eyed servant, his hair standing on end, walked in. He stared at me and the paper-strewn desk in confusion as I gestured him over. I realized that was a mistake as the man
looked down and gagged.
I shoved him back toward the doorway. “Get a doctor and the police. There’s been an attack on your master.”
He stumbled away, shouting.
The household quickly came awake in confusion, with running footsteps and groggy voices. Then I heard the clear tones of Lady Kaldaire and knew her husband would be in capable hands.
Relieved, I headed toward the door.
And came face-to-face with Lady Kaldaire.
She walked into the room, her hair in a long gray-and-brown braid, her face slack with sleep, and the rest of her wrapped in a thick housecoat of pink wool. “Emily? What is happening and why are you here?”
I doubted this would end well for me, but I knew honesty was the best policy with Lady Kaldaire. “I came tonight hoping to borrow the Lady in Blue to convince your husband to pay your bills. Instead, I found your husband attacked.”
Her eyebrows went skyward as she strode forward. She gave a small gasp as she rounded the desk and saw her husband for the first time. “Is he alive?”
“He groaned. I sent the first man to answer the bell to get a doctor and the police.”
“Oh, Emily. Don’t be so squeamish.” She bent down and felt his wrist, keeping her housecoat out of the blood. “Poor man. He’s still alive. Gregson!”
An older man hurried into the room.
“Has someone gone to fetch the doctor?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Get him in here as soon as he comes. And where are the police?”
“Here, my lady. Another’s gone for reinforcements.”
The bobby, a young, blond-haired man, took off his helmet as he moved hesitantly into the room and gave her a quick bow. “Sir,” he said to me as he glanced my way before heading toward Lady Kaldaire. “What’s happened?”
I gestured to him to come over to us, not wanting my voice to give away my gender. His eyes grew big as he looked down and saw the injured man. “Have you called for a doctor?” he said, swallowing hard.
“Yes,” Lady Kaldaire said.
“Who found him like this?”
Blast. I couldn’t avoid speaking. “I did.”
He gave me a startled look and then gazed at me from head to toe. “Why are you dressed like that, miss?”
“It’s a long story,” Lady Kaldaire said.
I gave her a grateful smile. I wasn’t sure if the police would arrest me solely for wearing trousers, but my clothing might lead them to consider me a violent thief. If they found out who I was, they’d lock me up and throw away the key.
The bobby pulled out his notebook and pencil as the doctor entered the room carrying his bag. He called for hot water, linen bandaging, and two strong footmen before throwing us out.
Lady Kaldaire called for tea and led the way to her morning room while the bobby remained outside the study door. A maid lit a single light, bright in an otherwise dark, sleepy world. The glare made me squint at all the yellow on the walls and sofa cushions.
Once the lady was settled, she looked up at me and said, “Do you mean that Horace hasn’t been paying you for my hats?”
Under the circumstances, I decided not to wait for an invitation to sit. I shifted to a more comfortable stance. “No, my lady.”
“For how long?”
“Eight months.”
“Good heavens. It’s not that we don’t have the money. Or that I don’t. And what is this about the Lady in Blue?”
I took a deep breath. “I planned to hold her hostage until he paid me what I’m owed.”
“That won’t work with me. I can’t stand that painting.”
“He’s the one who is supposed to pay me. He kept putting me off. I’m afraid I got impatient.” I stood with my hands clasped in front of me, unwilling to go into my reasons.
“And so you hit him.”
I looked at her, horrified, shaking my head as my eyes widened. “No! I found him on the floor like you saw him. And before you ask, I didn’t run into anyone in your house or in your gardens.”
“For some reason, I believe you.” She stared at me, her face hard. “You’d better not be lying to me.”
“Everything I’ve told you is the truth, my lady.” I just hadn’t told her everything.
Her tea came in. For the next few minutes, the only sounds in the room were clinks of silver and china. I’d have loved to have been offered a cup. Now that the shock had worn off, I kept blinking to keep my eyes open.
Elsewhere in the house, I could hear heavy footsteps and men’s voices. “How did you plan to steal the painting? You can’t just walk down the street with it,” she asked.
“I have a boy waiting with a horse cart around the corner.” Dear Lord. Matthew. How could I get a note to him to tell him to go home? As long as the police didn’t find him, he’d be safe.
“Well, you’ve certainly been thorough in your plans to collect on your bill. Are you always this ruthless?”
“I have to be, my lady. No one waits on a tradesman’s bills as long as they do those of the aristocracy. I have need of my money.”
“I’m sure you do. Horace used to be so reliable. What has happened?”
I decided there was no answer for that.
“And you, Emily, dressed up like a boy.” She shook her head. “Why did you ring for the servants? Why not just run?”
“Because he was hurt, my lady. All I wanted was my money from him. I couldn’t leave him injured, unaided and alone.” He was a human being, never mind that he was an aristocrat.
She considered my words for a moment, staring hard at me. When I stared back, unshrinking, she said, “For that you should be rewarded. Bring me your bill in the morning, and I will write you a bank draft myself.”
“Thank you.”
“You understand I’ll back up whatever ridiculous story you tell the police as long as you remain completely honest with me.” After a pause, she added, “And aid me in a little investigation of my own.”
Her last words struck me full in the face, making me jump. What did she have in mind? “What little—? How would I—?”
“Oh, you’ll manage very well, or I shall have to go to the police with the truth about your uninvited presence here tonight.”
Blast.
There was a loud knock on the door before a footman admitted a bobby, followed by a man in a baggy brown suit with a matching vest. His collar looked tired and his trouser legs were mud-splattered. As he came close to me, the light caught the look of fatigue in his gray eyes.
He barely glanced at me before facing the seated woman. “Lady Kaldaire, I’m Detective Inspector Russell. What can you tell me about events here this evening?”
“Has my husband regained consciousness?” she demanded.
He shook his head.
Lady Kaldaire sat still for a moment, I guessed to pull her thoughts together. I needed to do the same, but when I did I pictured the back of Lord Kaldaire’s skull and had to breathe deeply.
“My husband said he had no plans for the evening. I retired early and was awakened by a commotion. My maid said my husband was injured and to come downstairs.”
“And you?” he asked, turning those gray eyes on me. They no longer appeared weary. They were sharp, intelligent, cunning.
“I’m Emily Gates. Lady Kaldaire’s milliner.”
“Do you always make house calls in the middle of the night, dressed as a boy? As a boy in all-dark clothing?”
As soon as he said those words, I knew the copper guessed why I was here, and I was in trouble.
Before I could make a mess of things, Lady Kaldaire spoke up. “She had an appointment with my husband. She came in to find things as you saw them and roused the household.”
“And the nature of this appointment?”
“Is none of your business,” I told him in my most scandalized tone. I’d learned a lot from my clients.
He grinned at me. “Decline to answer, do you?” What he thought Lord Kaldaire and I had planned was
clear in his expression.
I glared at him. I hadn’t needed my clients to teach me how to scowl at an insulting man.
“Perhaps you could remove that ridiculously large cap and let me see you properly.” He’d gentled his voice, but I could hear the steel in it. He expected to be obeyed.
I pulled out the hatpin and removed the shapeless black cap. Unfortunately, my reddish curls came loose and tumbled onto my shoulders and down my back. I must have been a disheveled sight with my hair wantonly loose and wearing men’s clothes. My cheeks felt like they would burst into flame.
He stared at me for a moment in surprise before he held out his hand. I gave him my hat and hatpin. Then he looked down and with almost a laugh said, “Thank goodness. No blood.”
“Why would there be?” Lady Kaldaire asked.
“No reason. Just another puzzle in a night full of them.” His eyes and voice, so expressive before, shut away all emotion. “Perhaps you can tell me what you found when you came in.”
I quickly pulled all my hairpins free, set them down, and began to put up my hair. I could only hope a modest hair style would lend me the dignity my outfit didn’t. “I noticed at once the desk was a mess. Papers scattered everywhere and fallen onto the floor.”
“When I walked around the desk, I found Lord Kaldaire,” I said with a swallow, “as the bobby and the doctor saw him. When he groaned, I used the bell to summon help. I don’t know the name of the servant who answered my call, but I sent him for a doctor and the police.”
