Queen of Hearts

by Rhys Bowen

  Outside my window I saw people assembling on deck. I went to look and there in the distance was the New York skyline. I left Queenie to finish the packing and went out to join the others at the railing.

  “There she is,” I heard someone say. And there ahead of us, against a sky still streaked with dawn light, was the Statue of Liberty. What an inspiring sight with her lamp glowing. I could understand why immigrants had watched her and wept. Beyond were the skyscrapers of the New York skyline. I had no idea that buildings could be so tall. We sailed closer and closer until we docked right under the shadow of those buildings. As I looked down at the dock I saw that it was swarming with policemen. Golly, I thought. Did they always search this thoroughly after a robbery? Or was it possible there was something to my suggestion that someone had done away with the real Princess Promila? Had the splash I had heard, the hair I had seen floating out, really been a person after all? A person who had been murdered first and thus not tried to struggle when she hit the water? And a person with brown skin would not have been easily identifiable as such among black waves. I felt sick just thinking about it.

  Gangways were laid down, and all those blue uniforms came aboard. We were instructed to proceed to the first class lounge where there was a lot of complaining about being kept waiting and officious customs officials wanting to poke their noses into baggage. When our turn came, Mummy and I were given the most perfunctory of checks before we were allowed ashore. I kept expecting to be taken aside for questioning but nobody said anything or stopped me as I left the Berengaria. I wondered if I should say something about my suspicions and maybe have them give the princess an extra grilling, but I realized that was up to the captain and Darcy. They must know what they were doing.

  I looked back at the ship, hoping for a final glimpse of Darcy but he was nowhere to be seen, probably at a good vantage point, watching the passengers disembark. I wished I knew what his plans were now. It would have been reassuring to know he’d also be in New York. I wondered if there were things he hadn’t told me about this assignment. I never knew with him.

  On the dock we were swept into the hustle and bustle and soon were riding in a taxicab to the Plaza Hotel, where Stella and Cy and Juan would also be staying. Queenie, Mummy’s maid, Claudette, and the luggage followed in a second cab. The drive was quite alarming along those narrow streets between towering buildings. I had never imagined that buildings could be so tall. It was hot and sultry and unsavory smells wafted in through the taxicab windows. Every street corner seemed to have shabby-looking men standing on it. We were aware that there was a great depression in London, but here it felt much worse. Then we moved to a cleaner, smarter part of the city, pulled up in front of the Plaza Hotel and suddenly it was as if a fairy had waved a magic wand and transported us to another world.

  “Ah yes,” Mummy said as doormen rushed to open our taxicab doors and help us out. “This is more like it. For one awful moment I thought we’d have to skip New York and head straight for the train station. But I think this will do nicely for a few days.”

  Our rooms were lovely, overlooking Central Park and the whole hotel felt fresh and clean as if it had been repainted just for us. What’s more, it was cool—which was welcome after the oppressing heat of the city. That evening Cy hired a horse-drawn cab and we went for a drive in Central Park where the breeze off the lake made it bearable to be outside. I found that I couldn’t help thinking about all those poor people lining up for bread or sitting out on their steps with looks of hopelessness on their faces. I had grown up shut away from the real world. Now I was becoming all too aware of what life was like for so many people. If ever I had money and a position, I’d try to do something about it, I decided.

  We dined with Mr. Goldman, Stella and Juan, who were taking an aeroplane to Los Angeles in the morning. This gave me one last chance to help Darcy and play my part as a detective. I brought the missing jewels casually into the conversation with what I hoped was girlish enthusiasm.

  “I wonder if those jewels will ever be found, don’t you?” I said. “In a way it was rather exciting to know there was a jewel thief on the ship.”

  “Not if you were the one who had the jewels stolen,” Mummy said. “Then it would have been decidedly tiresome.”

  “Oh God, yes. Dealing with insurance companies is a nightmare,” Stella added. “But what about that bracelet you lost last night. Was that stolen, do you think? Did you report it?”

  I gave a little laugh. “Oh no. It was silly of me. I just mislaid it and found it again later in my cabin.”

  I watched her face and didn’t detect even a flicker of wariness. Of course someone who could cross a ledge to reach a window would have nerves of steel, wouldn’t they? But as I looked at that flawless face with her long dark hair spilling over her shoulders I found the whole notion absurd. Surely she couldn’t be our gentleman burglar in spite of the coincidences? As a film star and Cy Goldman’s mistress, what could she possibly need with other women’s jewels?

  “Well, I think I’ll make it an early night, if we’re to catch a plane in the morning,” Stella said as we finished our coffee. “We’ll see you in Hollywood then, Claire, darling.” She gave my mother a kiss a few inches from her cheek. “You should consider flying, like us. I don’t know why you’re taking the train. So tedious and dusty and full of horrid little people.”

  “Not for me, thank you,” Mummy said. “Far too many crashes on planes, even if the train does take longer.” She stood up and looked around the room with satisfaction as Cy blew us both a kiss and followed Stella from the room. “Well, this is nice, isn’t it? A few days to shop and play by ourselves.”

  On the way out of the dining room we bumped into Sir Digby and Lady Porter.

  “We meet again, Miss Daniels,” Sir Digby said. “How very pleasant.”

  “What a surprise to find you staying here, Sir Digby,” Mummy replied, her voice displaying no enthusiasm.

  “We decided to see New York for a few days before we go up to Boston,” Lady Porter said, “and we were told this is the place to stay. Horribly expensive though. And I don’t think we’ll be staying long. I haven’t liked what I’ve seen so far. So dirty and noisy, isn’t it?”

  “Lady Porter is a country girl at heart,” Sir Digby said. “She doesn’t like big cities, although we’ve heard that Boston is supposed to be relatively civilized.”

  “Are those Hollywood people also staying here?” Lady Porter asked.

  “They are taking an aeroplane flight in the morning,” I said.

  “Heavens. How adventurous.” Lady Porter snorted. “Dangerous things, aeroplanes. But what about Princess Promila? I understood she was supposed to be staying here. I expect she likes to eat in her room. Not terribly sociable, was she?”

  So Princess Promila was also here? I waited until Mummy was busy with her various face creams and went down to the front desk.

  “Princess Promila?” The clerk looked through his register. “She did have a reservation but she canceled it at the last minute.”

  Of course that made me wonder whether they had discovered that the princess on board was really an impostor and had been apprehended on leaving the ship. It was so frustrating not to know. And now Stella Brightwell would be out of my reach. I was just dwelling on that very thought when the elevator opened and Stella herself came out. She glanced around quickly then crossed the foyer.

  I only hesitated for a second, then followed her. She was walking fast and with purpose. The streets were still full of people on this warm evening and I tried to keep her in sight without giving away my presence. She crossed a major boulevard and then turned north, along the side of the park. This was very different from the New York I had seen earlier today. We passed grand mansions with long sleek automobiles waiting at the curb. The sounds of jazz music and laughter floated from an open window. Stella kept walking fast and then turned in to a side street
.

  My heart was racing with excitement. She had claimed she was going to bed early and here she was, slipping out without Cy. I realized I might be on the verge of solving a crime. If only I knew where Darcy was. This street was a quiet backwater, lined with trees planted at intervals along the curb, and Stella’s high heels echoed from the tall buildings. I tried to move quietly, dodging from tree to tree so that she didn’t know I was following her. Then I became aware of something. Light footsteps behind me that paused when I paused. Someone was following me.

  I glanced back but saw nobody. And yet I had been in danger often enough in my life to sense a prickle on the back of my neck now. Had Stella worried that I was poking my nose into her business and was I being lured right now into a dark and deserted corner? Was it her accomplice who was following me? I hesitated, trying to decide if I should give up and go back to the safety of the Plaza when Stella turned a corner yet again and came to a halt outside a grand-looking apartment building. She glanced around and I leaped back behind a tree just in time. I watched her studying the row of names in the box beside the front door, then she stood looking up at the windows, frowning.

  Was this another place she planned to rob? Was she casing the joint, as they would say? Then a doorman appeared. She exchanged a few words with him, nodded, then turned away, walking back quickly in my direction. I flattened myself against the tree trunk as she hurried past me. As soon as she had passed I went to follow, then let out a little shriek of fear as a dark shape stepped out from a stairwell, blocking my path.

  “And just what do you think you are doing, wandering around New York alone at night?” said a very familiar voice with a slight Irish tinge to it.

  Darcy’s eyes were shining in the light of the streetlamp.

  “Are you going to make a habit of scaring me out of my wits?” I demanded. “I thought someone was following me.”

  “I was supposed to be following Stella,” he said. “You got in the way. And terrible shadowing, by the way.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I said. “I thought I was rather good.”

  “If that was a real criminal type you were trying to follow, you’d be lying dead by now.”

  He was smiling down at me.

  “Well, I sensed that you were following me. So the same goes for you. I was rather worried that it might be Stella’s accomplice, luring me to a dark street because I’d chatted about the jewel thief.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I wanted to see if I got a reaction from her.”

  “One day you’ll push your luck too far, my lady. I asked you to keep an eye on her, that’s all.”

  “I was. I was following her. And now we have to find out what she wanted with that building and why she didn’t go in. Do you think she had some kind of assignation there or was trying to drop off the jewels?”

  Darcy shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s simpler than that. She was keeping an eye on Mr. Goldman.”

  “He’s in this building? Why?”

  “Because his wife lives here. I think Stella wanted to make sure he was only visiting his wife when he sneaked out, and not another woman.”

  “Oh, no. How funny.”

  Darcy put an arm around my shoulder. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your hotel.”

  “This is a nice surprise,” I said as we walked with his arm around me. “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

  “I expect I’ll keep turning up like a bad penny,” he said.

  “So the jewels were not found on anyone leaving the ship?” I asked. “Do you still suspect Stella?”

  “They weren’t found. And yes, Stella is still a suspect. That’s why I’ve been observing her.”

  “What about Princess Promila? She was supposed to stay at the Plaza and then canceled at the last minute. Isn’t that fishy?”

  “I understand that she has gone to Newport, Rhode Island, to stay with the Astors,” Darcy said. “That should be easy enough to verify.”

  “So you think she is the real thing?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  We crossed Fifth Avenue.

  “It’s a lovely night,” Darcy said. He took my hand and led me into the park. We passed other couples, sitting on benches, or walking arm in arm. When we came to a deserted bench we sat. Darcy took me into his arms and kissed me. The kisses were long and delicious and left me breathless. After a while I sat with my head against his shoulder. I wished the moment could go on forever. Then I remembered that I had crept out without telling my mother where I was going. She’d probably be worried.

  “I really should go back,” I said. “I left without telling Mummy.”

  “Do you really think your mother would notice you were gone?” Darcy laughed.

  “Probably not. But I should get back just in case.” I stood up and pulled him to his feet.

  Our shoes crunched on the gravel path as we made our way back to the lights of the city. His hand was warm in mine. “Do you think you might be following Stella out to California?” I asked. “She’s taking an aeroplane in the morning.”

  “Who knows?” Darcy said. “I’m waiting for a wire from London to see what they want to do next. And to see where the ruby might turn up.”

  “I wish you were coming with me.” I looked up at him, taking in the familiar details of his face.

  He paused. “I’d better not be seen at the Plaza. Just in case. So I’ll say good-bye here, Georgie. Take care of yourself and don’t do anything silly, promise?”

  “I might say the same for you,” I said. “You know I worry about you.”

  “I’ll be just fine.” He brushed back a strand of hair from my cheek. Then cupped my head in his hands and kissed me again. “It won’t be too long. I promise,” he whispered. “Now off you go.”

  Mummy was lying propped against the pillows reading a magazine. She barely looked up as I came in. “Been downstairs, have you? Anything fun going on?”

  “No, rather quiet actually,” I replied. “How long do you plan to stay in New York? Cy and Stella are leaving tomorrow.”

  “I have to do a little shopping first, darling,” she said. “I’m told there will be nothing in Reno. And one has a duty to see what New York has to offer.”

  So after breakfast Mummy went off to attack the New York department stores and I went to sit by the fountain in Central Park. Suddenly I saw two familiar figures coming toward me: Algie Broxley-Foggett and with him Tubby Halliday.

  “What ho, old bean,” Algie said. “Fancy bumping into you again.”

  “Oh, you’re still here, I see. Not off to the Wild West then?”

  “I’ll get around to it when the money runs out, I suppose,” Algie said. “But Tubby here has things to do in New York and his newspaper is paying for his hotel so I took advantage of his kind offer to share a room. Where are you staying?”

  “The Plaza,” I said.

  “My, my. Hear that, Tubby, old bean? She’s staying at the Plaza. We’ll simply have to come and visit.”

  “I don’t think you’d better,” I said hurriedly. “We’re leaving any moment and I’m with my mother.”

  “Well, that’s not too friendly of you,” Algie said. “I’ve always wanted a tour of the Plaza.”

  “I thought you were heading for Hollywood,” Tubby said.

  I looked at him warily, trying to remember how much of this was common knowledge. “For a short while, I think.” I stood up. “I had better be getting back. My mother will wonder where I’ve gone to.”

  I felt them watching me as I walked away. Why was Algie so keen to see inside the Plaza? And what was Tubby doing in New York?

  Chapter 12

  ON A TRAIN TO RENO

  FRIDAY, JULY 20, 1934

  We stayed in New York for a couple of days—long enough for Mummy to shop at Bloomingdale’s and d
eclare everything a sad imitation of last year’s Paris, to go to a show and Mummy to declare it lacking the polish of the West End—and then we boarded the Lake Shore Limited, bound for Chicago and eventually the Wild West.

  The first part of the trip was delightful as we followed the Hudson River up its valley. We dined on rather a lot of unmemorable food, fell asleep to the rhythmic rocking of the train and awoke in Chicago. We had to endure rather tedious hours in the ladies’ waiting room in the station before we could board the California Zephyr and off we went again. The next section was flat and uninteresting until we crossed the Mississippi River, had dinner, and darkness fell across a huge expanse of sky. I’d never seen a world in which there was just land, unclaimed, unused land, as far as the eye could see. And the sunset—we never had sunsets like that at home—as if the sky were twice as large as in England and had been painted with a giant paintbrush in primary colors. It was magical. I decided I was going to like it here. We were served breakfast in Denver and then a day of mountains and emptiness. Once we spotted a lone horseman, but I think he was the only person we saw for hours. We fell asleep in the middle of nowhere and awoke to find the train had stopped in Reno. Then we had to summon the maids, gather up the bags and make a rather hurried departure. We watched the train pull out, leaving us on an empty platform in the middle of nowhere.

  “Where do you think the main part of the town is?” Mummy asked, looking around.

  “I think this is it,” I replied, examining the straggle of clapboard shacks, a few low brick buildings and the feeling of a true Wild West town in the middle of empty brown scrub. It was extremely hot and dusty and a mirage hung over the track. We left the maids and the luggage and set off in a taxicab to the office of a lawyer Cy had found for my mother. Electric signs flashed from unlikely cottages, advertising speedy marriage and divorce—sometimes both at the same place. We turned into what must be the high street as it had a big sign across it advertising Reno as “The Biggest Little City in the World.”