“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Devoss, and Gideon will, too. If you are worried for my safety, imagine how he feels. Believe me, he won’t allow me to put myself in any danger.” Or at least not if he knows about it.
“These are serious matters, Miss Miles. Entire countries will rise and fall during our lifetimes, and we must be vigilant.”
“I promise to be vigilant, Mr. Devoss.” She would be, too. Her very life depended upon it.
* * *
—
Oscar Thornton was lingering over his lunch in the hotel dining room, wondering how he was going to fill the long afternoon ahead of him, when a bellman entered the room carrying a silver tray. The bellman glanced around and then headed straight for Thornton’s table.
Thornton frowned. He could already see the envelope that lay on the tray. He tipped the bellman a nickel and checked the return address. It was stationery from a hotel in Brownsville, Texas, which was just across the border from Matamoros. Vane must have written to him from there, but why had he written a letter instead of sending a telegram?
He’d already heard from Vane by telegram a few days ago that he’d arrived safely in Brownsville, so surely this was a message letting him know that Vane and Berta were on their way to New York. Maybe he was just saving money, since their voyage would take much longer than a letter would to arrive.
He tore open the envelope and read the scrawled handwriting twice before muttering a curse. Vane had written a letter because he couldn’t explain the situation in a ten-word telegram. He also couldn’t risk putting information in a message others would see, because the news was not good.
Vane had found a boat he could buy, but hiring a crew who wouldn’t ask questions had been far more expensive than he had expected. Also, he’d had to bribe far more people than he had planned to get the proper papers for Berta’s departure. He needed five thousand more to get her safely away, but after that, the boat would sail directly to New York and they would arrive in less than two weeks after Vane received the additional money.
Thornton wanted to curse out loud, but they frowned on that in hotels like this, and he didn’t want to get thrown out. The other thing that kept him from cursing—aloud, at least—was Vane’s report that Berta had shown him her stash of securities, and they were worth almost eight hundred thousand dollars, not five as Vane had originally estimated. That meant his share would be almost two hundred thousand, plus he would get back all the money he’d advanced Vane. As annoying as this was, five thousand more was a small investment compared to what he would make on this deal. Who knew rescuing refugees could be so profitable? Maybe he should put an ad in the newspapers offering assistance.
At least he now had something to do this afternoon. He strolled down to his bank where the president welcomed him into his office. “I thought I’d see you sooner than this, Mr. Thornton,” Diller said, shaking his hand and motioning for him to be seated. “Or at least see Mr. Vane and his cousin. But perhaps they decided to use another bank.”
“I’m sure Vane will bring his cousin here, but she hasn’t arrived in New York yet.”
Diller frowned as he sank back down into his own chair. “She hasn’t? I thought Vane said . . . But maybe he didn’t say where she was. Do you know?”
“No, he didn’t tell me, either,” Thornton lied. Saying Berta was in Mexico would sound suspicious. “Someplace in the South, I think.”
“It’s odd she didn’t come directly to New York when she fled Europe. Where did you say she was from?”
“I didn’t say, and I’m not really sure.”
“Her name sounds German, doesn’t it?” Diller mused.
“I’m sure a lot of rich Germans escaped with their fortunes,” Thornton said. “Who can blame them?”
“Who indeed?” Diller agreed with forced cheer. “But you didn’t come here to discuss Mr. Vane’s business, I’m sure. What can I do for you?”
“I need five thousand dollars in cash.”
“I trust you are going to make good use of it,” Diller said a little uneasily.
“Of course I am, and I assure you that when I make my profits, I will bring them right back here to invest.”
But Diller didn’t seem reassured. “Forgive my curiosity, but does this withdrawal have anything to do with Mr. Vane and his cousin?”
“Is that any of your business, Mr. Diller?”
“Certainly not, but . . . How well do you know Mr. Vane?”
“Pretty well. We’ve done business before.”
“Successfully?” Diller asked, still frowning.
Not successfully, Thornton remembered bitterly, but that hadn’t been Vane’s fault. “I trust him, if that’s what you mean.”
This news seemed to placate Diller, at least a little. “I’m glad. One hears stories, and I’d be remiss not to warn my customers.”
“I’m not an easy man to fool, Mr. Diller,” Thornton said. Once burned, twice shy, after all.
“And then there’s the issue of another large cash withdrawal catching the interest of the government.”
“Why would the government care what I do with my own money?” Thornton scoffed.
“Well, not the government itself, but the American Protective League. They get suspicious if someone withdraws a large sum of money.”
“How would they even know?”
Mr. Diller shrugged apologetically. “They have sp— I mean agents everywhere. I’m sure several of our tellers are members of the League, although they tend to keep that affiliation a secret.”
“But I thought the League disbanded after the war. Why would they still be looking for German supporters?”
“I don’t know, but they are still active in New York. Or someone is, at least. All those men who were so vigilant during the war haven’t stopped looking for foreign agents. They may question you about your withdrawal.”
That could be a problem, but then how would they know what he had used the money for? He would simply lie and say he invested it in a business deal with Vane. Vane would back him up. “They are free to ask me anything they like. I’m certainly not going to be funding any German spy rings.”
Diller smiled. “That wouldn’t be likely to earn you much of a profit, either. I’m sorry if you feel I was overstepping, but I try to protect my customers whenever I can.”
“You may have customers who need protection, but I’m not one of them. Now do you have the cash on hand or will I need to come back for it?”
* * *
—
Gideon stood up when Smith escorted Elizabeth into his office. He had been as surprised as Smith to learn Elizabeth had an appointment with Devoss, so he had instructed Smith to waylay her before she could leave and bring her to see him.
“What a pleasant surprise to see you in the office today,” he said with a smile that felt only slightly strained.
Elizabeth, of course, apparently felt no guilt at all about her surreptitious appointment. “I’m glad to see you, too, darling.”
Smith saw her seated and offered her refreshment, which she declined. They both waited until Smith had withdrawn. Gideon then gave her a long moment to speak, and when she didn’t, he felt compelled to say, “I understand you had an appointment with Mr. Devoss this morning.”
“Yes.” She seemed more amused than anything. “I hope you aren’t thinking I’m giving him my business instead of you.”
“Then I can assume you didn’t ask him to draw up your will.”
“Do you think I should?” She sounded genuinely concerned.
“Everyone should have a last will and testament, particularly someone who has a lot of money,” he felt compelled to say. He knew perfectly well that Elizabeth had more money than he liked to think about.
“Then I should have asked Mr. Devoss about it, I suppose. I assume you can’t do it, since you’ll
be my beneficiary.”
He was trying hard not to grind his teeth. “No, I can’t do it for you.”
“I wish I’d thought of that. It would have made Mr. Devoss much less suspicious.”
“What does he have to be suspicious about?” Gideon asked in alarm.
“Well, perhaps not suspicious exactly. He’s just worried that I’m putting myself in danger by investigating a bunch of German spies.”
Now he was more than alarmed. “And are you?”
“Probably. Why else would I need Mr. Devoss?”
“Elizabeth, you can’t investigate German spies. The war is over.”
“You’re right, of course, as Mr. Devoss pointed out to me. Apparently, we’re more concerned with Bolsheviks now.”
“And you aren’t going to investigate Bolsheviks, either.”
“No, I’m not. Not real ones at least.”
Gideon opened his mouth to reply but then closed it with a snap when her meaning sank in. “You’re running a con.” It wasn’t a question.
“Not me. I’m completely reformed now.”
“But the earl . . .”
“Nothing to do with me.”
He gave her a skeptical look.
“I’m just observing, as are you.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “Is this about Thornton, then?”
“Nothing to do with me, either. The Old Man is taking care of Thornton.”
“Then why are you discussing German spies with Devoss?”
“Just exploring some possibilities. Did you know that the government disbanded the League when the war ended?”
“I may have read it somewhere.”
“But they didn’t disband it in New York City. We are, apparently, a special case.”
“Special how?”
“We have a lot of immigrants who, Mr. Devoss assures me, want to cause a revolution here like the one in Russia.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I’m sure the czar thought it was ridiculous, too, and look what happened in Russia.”
He couldn’t argue with that, either. “All right, so you’re investigating imaginary Bolsheviks now?”
“Oh no, I’m stuck with Germans, or rather the Old Man is, but luckily the League thinks the Germans are financing the Bolsheviks.”
“Why does the Old Man need to be stuck with anybody?” Gideon asked, thoroughly confused.
“Because, darling, we must rid ourselves of Thornton once and for all. If he . . .”
To his horror, Elizabeth’s voice caught, and he realized she was suddenly on the verge of tears. He jumped up and hurried around his desk, taking her hand in his. “What is it, darling? What’s wrong?”
She had lifted her free hand to her lips and pressed her fist there, as if she could hold back her emotions with it. After a moment, she lowered her fist and looked up at him with shining eyes and a wavering smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
Still holding her hand, Gideon pulled the other client chair closer and sat down beside her. “Darling, I know this must be difficult for you. Thornton wanted to kill you and Jake just a year ago.”
“Yes, and he probably still longs for revenge, even if we pay him the blackmail he asked for. That is why we’ve been trying to figure out how to ruin his credibility, so even if he does decide to tell people the truth about me, no one will believe him.”
She looked so stricken, Gideon thought his heart would break. “What if I told you it wouldn’t matter to me even if everyone believed him?”
“I do love you so very much, my darling, and I appreciate your devotion, but yours isn’t the opinion that matters.”
“Whose opinion could possibly matter more than mine?” he challenged, feeling very virtuous.
“Everyone’s, I’m afraid. What happens when we are snubbed by all your friends? What happens when your clients no longer trust you because you’re married to a woman who steals for a living?”
“But you don’t—”
“Mr. Devoss would regret it very much, but he would have no choice but to let you go. You know it’s true. And your poor mother wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without being laughed at and—”
“Elizabeth, stop. Not all my friends would snub me, and I’d simply find other clients and—”
“Would you? Are you sure? New York is a big city, but New York society is a small town where everyone knows everyone else. How could some of your friends support you without being snubbed themselves?”
“I think you’re making way too much of this, darling. And if it were as bad as you imagine, we’d just pick up and move out West somewhere and start over.”
“Would we?” she asked with a sad smile. “You’d leave your home and your family and everyone you’ve ever known?”
“Of course I would.”
But she shook her head. “How could I ask that of you?” Her eyes were shining again. How could he bear it if she cried?
“You wouldn’t have to ask me. I’d do it gladly.” He would, too, but he could see she didn’t believe it.
“Oh Gideon, I love you so dearly for saying that, and I know you really believe it, but how can one person sacrifice everything for another without at least some regret? And how long until that regret turned bitter and soured our love?”
He wanted to argue with her, but he could find no words. He just shook his head in silent denial.
She smiled at that. “So you see, we have to stop Thornton somehow, because if we don’t, we’ll never be able to live in this town.”
CHAPTER NINE
Bolsheviks?” the Old Man asked. He and Elizabeth were sequestered in her bedroom at Cybil’s house, hoping to finish their meeting before the guests began to arrive for the Monday evening salon. She was recounting her earlier conversation with Mr. Devoss.
“Yes, those Russian revolutionaries.”
“I know what Bolsheviks are.” All good con men kept abreast of current affairs. You never knew when something in the news might work into a con. “What makes Devoss think they’re a problem here, though?”
“Some fellow from the League decided they were and told some committee in Washington City. You know how these things happen. The country is already in a tizzy about German saboteurs, so it was an easy connection to make, I suppose.”
“And the Germans are supposedly financing the Bolsheviks,” he mused in wonder.
“Which probably isn’t true,” Elizabeth felt compelled to say.
“Not that it matters. If people believe it, then it’s true for them. It’s a pity about the League, though. They had already proven very useful.”
“I’m sure all the people they falsely accused of disloyalty are heartbroken,” Elizabeth chastened him.
“Yes, that was too bad, but I think we can make do without them. What was the name of the new group?”
“The Union League Club. They aren’t exactly a group. It’s really a men’s club. Gideon says they aren’t ordinarily a bad bunch.”
“Oh yes, Teddy Roosevelt’s club. They sponsored the Harlem Hellfighters, I believe,” the Old Man recalled, naming a unit of Black soldiers who had distinguished themselves in the war.
“And now they’re sponsoring a bunch of spy hunters,” Elizabeth said with a sigh.
“We have to keep our country safe,” the Old Man said with a smirk. “Don’t worry, I know all about them. How are things going for you?”
“Fine as far as I know, but I don’t always know, since I have to rely on what others tell me. Being retired from grifting has its disadvantages.”
“Everything I hear is good, so don’t worry.” He studied her for a long moment. He was sitting in her one comfortable chair and she was perched on the stool from her dressing table. “Are you sure you can leave all this behind, Lizzie? Won’t you
miss the excitement?”
She smiled. “I hope not, although I officially gave up the grift a year ago, and here I am, up to my neck in cons again.”
He smiled back. “I guess that proves we don’t really do it for the money.”
“No, it’s for the thrill. I’ve always known that, and oddly enough, it’s even more thrilling when you do it to help someone else than it is when you’re just doing it for yourself.”
“Is it?” he asked as if the concept were completely new to him. “I’ll have to try it sometime.”
She didn’t point out that he was currently doing just that.
* * *
—
Elizabeth wasn’t exactly sure what she hoped to learn from Carrie Decker, but the reporter probably knew a lot more about Rosemary Westerly than Elizabeth was likely to find out just from seeing Rosemary socially. New York society was, Elizabeth knew, an endless source of gossip, but she had not yet been admitted into that elite realm. Her marriage to Gideon would give her a place there, but she knew she would need years before she would really be accepted, if she ever was. And if Thornton did his worst, well . . . It just didn’t bear thinking about.
“What are we going to ask her?” Anna said, interrupting Elizabeth’s dark musings. They were in the parlor of Cybil’s house, awaiting Carrie’s arrival. Last night at the salon, Elizabeth had invited Anna for afternoon tea, and she’d been grateful that Anna’s Tuesday class schedule had allowed her to attend.
“We want to find out what she knows about Rosemary, of course, but we can’t start with that. We have to make her think we are interested in something else entirely.”
“Maybe you should be interested in winning her over so she won’t report bad things about you,” Anna said. “Like the arrangement Rosemary made.”
“Or at least like we think Rosemary has made. Anna, you’re brilliant.”
Anna ducked her head with feigned modesty. “I’ve gotten much smarter since I started college.”
City of Schemes Page 15
