The Killing at Kaldaire House

by Kate Parker

  We weren’t laying siege to a castle, we were planning a break-in. I very much doubted Lady Kaldaire would ever develop the right outlook for burglary, but she was generous and she treated everyone as they deserved to be treated. She lacked aristocratic snobbery. That was more than enough to make me appreciate her.

  I headed home in the twilight, the pound notes for the hats buried deep in my purse. I needed every penny for Matthew, so I was particularly wary when I heard someone following me as I walked down the alley to check on the workshop.

  As the footsteps closed in on me, I grabbed the lid on the ashcan and swung around, clipping my assailant on the ear.

  “Ow, Emmy, that’s not nice.” Petey Gates stood before me, holding the side of his head and looking more surprised than angry. His grimy derby was on the ground.

  “You idiot. You should know better than to sneak up on a lady.”

  “You? A lady? Well, la-dee-da. I thought you was family.” He bent over to pick up his hat, displaying no fear of me.

  “Family doesn’t hide stolen goods on one another’s property without a warning. So what happened? You didn’t warn me and the police took your haul from two jobs. It’s your own fault.”

  “Three jobs.” He sounded miserable. Once more, I was reminded he was not the brightest of Grandfather’s descendants.

  “Petey, why are you here?”

  “Grandfather said I needed to apologize to you about using your factory without permission.” He looked down and dragged the toe of his right boot along the paving stones. A sure sign he was mouthing the words without thinking about them.

  “I forgive you, Petey, but don’t ever do that again. You could have had us both locked up, and I can’t afford it.”

  “I don’t want to go inside neither.”

  The fabric of my patience had already been worn thin, and now Petey seemed determined to tear a hole in it. “What are you doing with your life? Nothing, while I’m running a business and trying to provide an education for Matthew.”

  “Why would you try to educate Matt? He’s deaf.” I could hear the laughter in his tone.

  Furious, I said, “There are lots of things he’ll be able to do if he gets an education. Besides, he’s family. Don’t talk about him like that. Go on. You said your piece. Now go.”

  “Gran said you’d be mean to me.” Petey slunk off, looking as if I’d given him a thrashing. A sure way to win Gran’s sympathy. Nobody messed with her grandsons. Not even me, her only granddaughter.

  “Interesting family you have there.”

  The man’s voice set all my nerves on edge and robbed me of breath. I’d thought I was alone. I gasped as I twirled, the ashcan lid in my hand ready to swing again. I had to protect the money in my purse.

  Chapter Seven

  Inspector Russell took a step back, his arms up to block my blow.

  How had both Petey and I missed seeing or hearing Inspector Russell?

  I prepared an argumentative tone since my body was going limp in relief. And tingly. Odd how he caused a funny response every time I saw him, far beyond the anger and fear from being startled. “He was only here because I spoke to Grandfather. And that wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t insisted that I do so.”

  “Miss Gates, we had two murders in the vicinity of where you were the other night. If you’re not our murderer—”

  “I’m not.” I snapped out the words.

  “Then you might have witnessed something. If the murderer thinks that, you could be the next victim.” He sounded somber and weary.

  I shivered despite my intention not to show any emotion. That was the unsavory side effect of investigating a murder. The murderer would try to stop the investigation. Lady Kaldaire should be hearing this lecture, not me. “You should be home by your fireside eating dinner, not spending your off-duty hours hanging around here.”

  He gave me a rogue’s smile. “But the most interesting things happen here. With the best-dressed lady in town.”

  My cheeks felt so hot they must have flamed at his compliment. “There’s nothing here to interest you now. Go home, Inspector.”

  He held up a hand to stop me before I walked away. “I didn’t follow my instincts once and people died. I don’t want to make the same mistake again. Especially not with you.”

  I felt warmth inside me. People rarely worried about my well-being. “I have to go in and warm up what our neighbor left us tonight for our dinner. I won’t go out again.” I spoke quietly.

  His voice was even softer when he said, “At least you have Matthew and Noah and Annie to share it with.”

  I doubt he meant for me to hear it, but I heard his words and the sound of emptiness inside them. “You don’t have anyone?”

  “If I did, do you think I’d be hanging around your alley?” He sounded both amused and hurt.

  I spoke before I thought. “Would you care to join us? Mrs. McCauley always leaves us more than enough.”

  “No, I can’t just drop in to dinner…”

  My hands went to my hips. “With the grandchildren of crazy-like-a-fox Zachariah Gates?”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say that, Miss Gates.”

  I fought down the pout that sprang up every time I remembered my criminal relatives. “You didn’t have to.”

  His face went hard and expressionless. “Because you said it for me. I thought there was more to you than that.” He tipped his bowler to me and sauntered off.

  He was playing with me, and I didn’t like it. After I was certain Petey hadn’t been in the workshop again, I stomped upstairs to find Noah, Matthew, and Annie waiting. I quickly changed into a work dress, plain muslin with marks and stains from cooking and hatmaking, and went into the kitchen. “It’s roast chicken, bread, and vegetables,” I called out to Noah as I worked. “It’ll be hot in a few minutes.”

  “Good. We’re hungry.”

  “Have you seen to the horse?”

  “Yes. Matthew took care of him while I locked up the workshop. Jane locked up the shop.”

  I didn’t have anything more to ask while I readied dinner and set it on the table. Noah and Matthew came out and devoured the food as if they hadn’t been fed in the past week, and I thought scrawny Annie might have eaten her weight in food. I nibbled, trying to puzzle out my surprise visit from the Scotland Yard inspector.

  It didn’t make sense. Petey waiting for me I could understand. Grandfather wouldn’t have been happy if anyone in the family didn’t do as he said. Had Inspector Russell followed him? Or did he believe I knew something more than I’d told him?

  I wished I’d seen more, so I could tell him who killed Lord Kaldaire. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about who might be following me around London besides Inspector Russell.

  He could follow me all he wanted.

  Noah finally tired of the silence and asked why I was so quiet.

  While I brought in more tea, I told him about Lady Kaldaire’s “request” for me to sketch the interior of her new home and Petey’s apology.

  Noah poured a cup, took a sip, and then said, “I know you’re not concerned about anything Petey says, because he’s probably forgotten it already. But designing an interior? Do you have enough time to run the shop, design hats, and take on this commission for Lady Kaldaire?”

  “She only wants me to do some sketches for her, not take on the project. She’ll have someone else do the work. One of my other customers is getting very nosy about why I was at Kaldaire House. Lady Kaldaire dreamed this up so I had a reason to be there. So no one else finds out about the Gates gang.”

  He looked at me over the rim of his cup. “I understand why you’re going along with this. Your mother was just as secretive about her connection with the Gateses.”

  “It won’t take me away from the shop for long, or often. And she is going to pay me for the sketches. Money for Matthew’s schooling.”

  At least, I hoped she would.

  “I don’t like this, Emily. Sh
e just has to snap her fingers, and you come running. We’ll get the money another way if we have to.” He scowled at me. “What happened over there the other night?”

  “I told a lie to the police, and she backed me up. I owe her.”

  “She owns you. I would have thought your grandfather would have taught you better than that.” Noah leaned back in his chair and lit his pipe, scowling at me the entire time.

  “I like her. I can’t explain it. She’s not our class, but she’s not like the rest of my customers. She has a zest for life. She appears to be following all of the upper class’s customs, but then you realize she’s only going so far to meet their expectations. Far enough to get along, but she’s not behaving the way society thinks or expects of a lady.” I put more sugar in my tea. I needed it.

  “Well, she has you doing what she wants.”

  “So far, Noah, it’s what I want, too.” I wondered how long that would last.

  We fell silent, staring at each other. Matthew watched us for a while, no doubt aware of the tension between us, and then walked away to read a book.

  Our apprentice Annie, who had entered our lives when we found her sharing a stall with our horse in the dead of winter, apparently alone in the world, was always afraid of disagreements. She had long since left the table. I suspected she’d already disappeared into some dark corner.

  “I think we frightened Annie,” I said.

  “She is terribly timid,” Noah replied. “How old do you think she is? She was only working at a six-year-old level at the local school when we enrolled her.”

  During the school term, she could only work as our apprentice after school and on weekends. I wanted her to get an education, but at that rate, she wouldn’t pay us back or learn any part of the trade for several years. “She says nine, and I think I believe her. Have you had any better luck finding out where she came from or what happened to her before she moved into the stable?”

  “I’ve learned nothing from the people in the area of the stables,” Noah said, rising from the table and taking his cup and saucer into the kitchen.

  “No one in our neighborhood seems to know anything about her, either. And Annie won’t tell me a thing.” I did want to know. Why did Annie cling to me whenever I asked her about her past?

  Chapter Eight

  Over the next few days, Lord Kaldaire’s funeral was attended by the great and the good men of London and covered by all the newspapers. Also mentioned was that the new Lord and Lady Kaldaire had taken up residence in Kaldaire House.

  Except for a glance at the newspapers and an occasional sick feeling in my stomach when I pictured poor Lord Kaldaire collapsed on the floor, I pushed all thoughts of the Kaldaires from my mind. I had plenty to do in my shop.

  After dinner one night, I was working hard on designing newly ordered hats. A tap on the shop door didn’t catch my attention, but Noah, who’d been working with me, heard it and answered the door. He returned within moments with a note that had my name on the outside.

  Tearing it open, I wasn’t surprised to find the message was from Lady Kaldaire and she wanted my assistance immediately. Then she said to make sure the new Lord and Lady Kaldaire had left for the opera before I showed myself. I should come in by the French doors in the breakfast room.

  She was enjoying this too much. “I have to go out for a while.”

  “Lady Kaldaire?” Noah asked.

  I nodded.

  “Emily, do you think this is wise?”

  “It’s the best of a large selection of bad choices.” I gave him what I hoped passed for a smile. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t wait up.”

  “Of course I’m going to wait up. I should go with you.”

  “Better you don’t.” I finished the task I was working on and went to my room to change. Matthew glanced up from the book he was reading with a puzzled expression. I waved and he returned to the story. I looked in on Annie and found her in bed curled up in a ball. The same way she had slept in the straw meant for the horse when we found her in the cold.

  “I have my key,” I told Noah and left our building.

  Once again I entered Kaldaire House by the French doors and found my way through the dimly lit house to the study. At least this time I was properly dressed for a social call.

  When I knocked, I heard Lady Kaldaire’s voice say, “Enter.” I found her bathed in light behind the desk going through piles of papers. “They’ve been picked up but not organized,” she told me.

  I pulled up a chair and began to look through one of the piles. It quickly became apparent the late Lord Kaldaire hadn’t been paying his bills.

  “What had he been doing with the money?” I asked. “Any clue yet?”

  “That’s why you’re here. To help me find out,” her ladyship said, a pair of pince-nez glasses perched on her nose. “By the way, I like the hat. I’ve not seen that one before.”

  “Something I whipped up for clerks and shop girls to look elegant while riding the omnibus,” I replied. “Had you seen any of these letters requesting payment from,” I flipped through a stack of correspondence, “every tradesman in the area?”

  “No. Whenever I asked him about a complaint, he said he’d taken care of the problem.”

  A letter caught my attention. “Who is Edward, Viscount Taylor?”

  “A friend of Horace’s. A bit younger than he was and terribly earnest. Why?”

  “In this letter, he threatens to kill Lord Kaldaire. Over a young lady.” I looked up to see Lady Kaldaire’s eyes widen.

  “Horace wasn’t one to get seriously involved with a lady. Or any woman, for that matter. He was more passionate about his position in society and betting at his club than about any woman. Including me.”

  I gazed at her over the letter. “Then who is ‘my darling Amanda’?”

  Lady Kaldaire raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know.”

  We both searched for more correspondence from Edward, Viscount Taylor, without success. I did, however, find an unsigned letter saying: You need to desist, or the Secretary of the Club will learn of your behavior.

  The handwriting matched that of the viscount.

  “Is Viscount Taylor a member of Lord Kaldaire’s club?”

  “Yes. The Imperial. Full of upstanding gentlemen, many of them titled. Dreadfully dull.”

  “Who is the secretary?”

  “I have no idea. It would have to be someone who is both dreadfully dull and full of himself.”

  I suppressed a smile. Lady Kaldaire was becoming more outspoken by the moment. “Who would know of an Amanda in Viscount Taylor’s life?”

  After thinking for a moment, she spoke with glee. “Marjorie Whitaker. Dowager Marchioness of Linchester. She knows the Taylors well.”

  “You need to contact her as soon as possible and find out about Amanda.” I didn’t need to be involved.

  “We need to visit her together.” There was more than a hint of steel in her voice.

  “I need to do up those drawings for you and run my millinery shop. Besides, she’ll speak more freely if it’s only you.”

  “I suppose you’re right. We are old friends.” She flipped through more papers. “What was he doing with my money? Clearly it wasn’t paying the tradesmen.”

  “You said your husband liked to gamble.”

  “Not that much.”

  I thought of my darling Amanda and hesitated to bring up my next idea. “Could he have been blackmailed?”

  My words brought peals of laughter from Lady Kaldaire. After she caught her breath and dried her eyes, she said, “He would have to be in possession of a secret or a vice or a passion. My husband had none of those. He was as stuffy as they come.” She stopped for a moment and thought. “Poor Horace. That sounds so sad. As if he missed out on his life.”

  Her words silenced us both of a minute. Then I said, “Pretend you didn’t know him and search through these papers for some evidence of a reason why someone would blackmail him. Sometimes people sur
prise us. And it would explain what he did with the money.”

  I began with the stack of papers in front of me. Nothing but dunning notices. “How much more time do we have?”

  “At least an hour.”

  I started on another stack while Lady Kaldaire perused letters at her leisure. As much as I wanted to tell her to hurry up, I knew I’d be wasting my breath. The lady hadn’t had timing drummed into her by a larcenous family.

  “Interesting. Here’s a letter from Laurence asking Horace for money. Told him not to tell Cecily or me. Now there is a man who would have secrets.” She tapped the letter with one finger.

  And get himself blackmailed, I said to myself. Aloud I asked, “Is it possible someone attacked the wrong brother?”

  “Really, Emily. They don’t look alike.”

  “I thought they looked a great deal alike. Of course, I didn’t know either man well…”

  We both froze as the bell, footsteps, and voices could be heard in the front hall. “Cecily has a headache,” a male voice reached us. “Where is Roberta?”

  “I’m not certain, my lord. I believe she has retired.”

  “Good old Gregson,” Lady Kaldaire said with a smile.

  “Then why is there light coming from under the study door?”

  As footsteps approached the study door, I darted behind the draperies. In the style of well-to-do houses everywhere, the draperies were hung a foot or two into the room. The space between the window panes and the draperies allowed for air to be trapped, separating the frozen drafts of winter slipping in through the cracks in window sashes from the heated air of the room.

  “Roberta. What on earth are you doing in here?”

  “These papers were knocked onto the floor when Horace was attacked.” I heard Lady Kaldaire’s voice getting closer to me. “I was looking for a clue to the identity of his murderer.”

  “Oh, please. Leave the detecting to the police.”