Murder on Black Friday

by P. B. Ryan

  Nell said, “Your brother and Becky Bassett were engaged?”

  Looking up, she said, “Well, it wasn’t finalized yet, but... I assumed you knew. She didn’t mention it when you were talking to her this morning?”

  “No,” Nell said. Nor had Miriam or Dr. Tanner, although it may have been what was on Tanner’s mind when he said, regarding Miriam’s determination to excise the memory of Philip Munro from their lives, “It seemed to trouble her that he had anything to do with the family, but especially that he was...” That he was engaged to Becky—that was undoubtedly what Tanner had started to say before he cut himself off.

  Nell looked at Will, who gave her a wry shrug.

  “Philip told me they couldn’t make it official until they secured her father’s approval,” Catherine said. “But I just assumed Rebecca or the sister would have told you about it this morning, since, well...what would be the point of keeping it under wraps now? Philip is...he’s gone.” Her fist tightened around the pendant. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing can come of it now.”

  More bewildered than ever, Nell said, “Had they sought Mr. Bassett’s approval?”

  “Oh, yes, Philip was a gentleman—he did the proper thing. He asked Mr. Bassett for his permission, only to be summarily rebuffed.”

  “Really?” Nell had a hard time picturing docile old Noah Bassett having the backbone to refuse anything to a man like Philip Munro.

  “I can’t imagine why that should surprise you,” Catherine said, a little frostily. “Men like Mr. Bassett liked to use my brother for his business acumen—and Philip, being of a generous nature, always obliged—but they never really accepted him as one of them. That was why he convinced Rebecca to keep their courtship a secret. Philip was a very astute man. He knew Mr. Bassett would never allow the likes of him to call on his precious daughter.”

  “Was it just generosity that prompted Mr. Munro to help these men, or did he charge them for his services?” Will asked.

  Rather archly Catherine said, “Philip was brilliant at what he did—literally brilliant, a born genius with investments. Why shouldn’t he have retained a modest commission for his time and expertise?”

  “No reason at all,” Will said.

  “It’s not as if they’d ever approached him out of simple friendship, any of them,” Catherine said. “They didn’t invite him to dinner in their homes, never asked him along on their shooting parties, or onto their yachts, or into their private clubs. They came to him for one reason, to make money. Absurd, of course, that they should have viewed Philip as a gutter-blood just because he’d actually earned his fortune, through his own wits and hard work, instead of having it dumped in his lap. However, the fact remained that he had money, but no bloodlines. He once told me a man needed both to be a true success in this city. My goal, now that he’s gone, is to make him that kind of success posthumously. I’m going to establish a charitable trust, administered by myself, of course, to do good works in Philip’s name—the Philip James Munro Foundation. Generations from now, he’ll be remembered and revered, long after men like Noah Bassett are gone and forgotten.”

  “What happened after Mr. Bassett refused to grant permission for the marriage? Nell asked. “It must have cast a chill on his dealings with your brother.”

  With a bitter little huff of laughter, Catherine said, “Oh, Mr. Bassett was quick to tell Philip, right after refusing permission, that he trusted their business relationship would continue as before. It was like telling him to his face that he wasn’t good enough for his daughter, but he’d appreciate it Philip would keep making money for him. The gall! Philip was outraged at the insult, I can tell you, utterly livid. He kept it inside until he was alone with me, of course. I was the only one he could ever really unburden himself to.”

  Nell said, “I must say, Miss Munro, I find such blatant snobbishness a bit out of character for a man like Noah Bassett.”

  “Well, he was egged on by the sister, that Miriam. Philip said she had a conniption when she found out he planned to marry Rebecca. She’d been begging Rebecca all along to call it off with him, and now that they were actually engaged, she was quite beside herself. She eviscerated Philip’s character—right in front of him. Mr. Bassett was there, too, and of course he got an earful, which just gave him that much more ammunition with which to turn Philip down.”

  “This was a week ago?” Will asked.

  “Last Saturday,” Catherine said. “A week ago today.”

  “And did Mr. Munro sever his business relationship with Mr. Bassett after that?”

  Raising her gaze to the ceiling, Catherine said, “No, he did not, to my utter disgust. He told me he thought there was still a chance to get Mr. Bassett to change his mind. In fact, he’d told him as much, told all three of them. He said he wasn’t the type of man to throw up his hands without bringing out every weapon in his arsenal, that sooner or later Mr. Bassett would not only allow the marriage, but give it his blessing.”

  “Your brother seems to have been a man who knew how to get what he wanted,” Nell said. “Why didn’t he just marry her without her father’s permission?”

  “Rebecca wouldn’t hear of it—absolutely refused to go against her father’s wishes—thank God. I hoped and prayed the little goose would stick to her guns and that Philip would eventually tire of the melodrama and move on.”

  “Because Mr. Munro and Becky had only known each other since May?” Nell asked. “Was that the sole reason you objected to the marriage?”

  “I objected because there was simply no need for it.” Catherine’s voice remained as soft as ever, but her eyes shone like silver half-dollars in the dim light. “Why on earth should someone like Philip have had to tether himself to a wife, especially a callow little girl like Rebecca Bassett? A man like that, with his lust for life, his magnetic appeal... Of course he attracted females—how could he not?—but he was never the type to settle down into dreary domesticity, and why should he have had to? He had me for companionship. We’ve always shared a special affection, he and I, a very deep bond.”

  “I’m sure you were quite close,” Nell said carefully, “but a gentleman does sometimes entertain a desire for a more...shall we say, corporeal form of female attention.”

  Will looked down, rubbing his mouth to hide his grin.

  Straightening her back, Catherine said, “There was always...a certain kind of female willing to provide that sort of attention. God knows Philip didn’t need to bind himself in matrimony to secure it.”

  Will cleared his throat, schooled his expression. “Then why did he ask Miss Bassett to marry him?”

  “Were they very much in love?” Nell asked.

  “In love?” With a hectic little gust of laughter, Catherine said, “It was never about love. Good Lord—a mopstick like Rebecca Bassett? I mean, you’ve met her. You’ve got to admit, she’s a bit weak in the upper story. Philip felt nothing of the kind for her. He told me he’d never so much as kissed her. He said it was because he was trying to court her properly, like a gentleman, but I know it was really because he felt nothing for her. She’s absurd. A joke. What on earth could she bring to a union with someone like Philip except for, well, being blond and buxom, which always held a certain base appeal for him. I’m sure he found her quite satisfactory in that respect, but she’s terribly inane, and also terribly young, you know, terribly young, much too young to be considering marriage.”

  It had been a remarkable show of emotion, considering the languid equanimity that Catherine had displayed until now.

  Will said, “Why did she consider it, then, do you suppose?”

  “For his wealth, of course.” She seemed calmer, but still a bit tense. “You’ve been inside that house. Their impecuniosity is all too evident. They’ve nothing left but their name. It’s all they’ve got to trade on anymore. You asked why Philip proposed to her. It was, I believe—although he never told me in so many words—an attempt to graduate from new money to old through matrimony. Phil
ip was famous for his unorthodox business arrangements, which was essentially what this was. As in any transaction, both parties must achieve some sort of benefit for it to work. In this case, Rebecca would get rich, and Philip would get to marry into one of the oldest and most respected families in Boston—even if that respectability isn’t quite as...credible as it once was.”

  “Why do you say that?” Nell asked.

  “Well, they’re hardly as virtuous and upstanding as they’d like to make out, are they? I don’t mean the father, necessarily. I barely knew him. But the daughters... I daresay they were a cruel disappointment to him.” Catherine shook her head. “You already know what I think of Rebecca. As for Miriam, well, you must admit there’s something sly and secretive about her. I always worried about Philip whenever she sneaked upstairs for one of her little visits.”

  “Visits?” Nell said.

  Chapter 6

  Will sat forward. “Miss Bassett used to visit your brother?”

  Catherine sat back, idly stroking the pendant. “Quite frequently, over the past several months—clandestine little visits at night.”

  “Were they...engaged in an illicit relationship?” Nell asked.

  Catherine said, “My brother never spoke to me about the women in his life. He had too much respect for me, and of course, a true gentleman is ever prudent about these things.”

  Perhaps, Nell thought, Philip Munro actually had been a gentleman in certain respects, while remaining a self-serving cad in others. Some men—women, as well—had the ability to cordon off areas of their life like that. But even if he hadn’t confided in Catherine about his romantic affairs, she clearly had some of it sorted out—or thought she did.

  “That said,” Catherine continued, “Philip was far too much of a gentleman to have conducted a liaison of that nature with the sister of his fiancée. A love match it may not have been, but there are some lines one doesn’t cross.”

  Will said, “Why did Miriam pay him all these visits, then?”

  “I couldn’t say for certain, of course, but given her virulent opposition to the marriage, perhaps she was trying to talk him into breaking the engagement.”

  “Do you suppose she thought your brother and Becky had feelings for each other?” Nell asked.

  “Oh, good heavens, no. Miriam had known my brother for some twenty years—they used to run in the same circle. She had to know he wasn’t the kind of man to lose his heart to some vacuous little blonde. Any fool could see he was just marrying her to raise his estimation in the eyes of Boston society.”

  “Were his financial reversals yesterday very severe?” Nell asked. “That’s the sort of thing that might prompt a man to take his life.” If the gold crash had ruined Philip Munro as it had so many others, he would have been left devoid of both bloodlines and the money by which to purchase those bloodlines—a true failure by his standards.

  “Philip did not take his life,” Catherine said firmly.

  “How do you know that?” Will asked.

  “Suicide is an act of desperation and weakness,” she said. “My brother was constitutionally incapable of such an act. He was a man of backbone and vigor, a champion in everything he took on. The idea of knuckling under, to anything or anyone, was utterly repellent to him. You can’t imagine how it pains me to think of his memory being sullied by the presumption that he died by his own hand simply because he was found on our front steps. You must have doubts yourself as to the cause of death, or you wouldn’t be here, making these inquiries.”

  “We do have doubts,” Will said, “but as part of an objective investigation, we need to consider the possibility that your brother might have had reason to kill himself. That’s why we need to know whether he lost very much in the gold collapse yesterday.”

  “Philip considered his financial dealings to be personal and private,” Catherine said. “He never discussed them with anyone but me, ever, and of course I treated them as confidential matters. But given the situation, and the need to clear up this ugly suicide rumor, I suppose it would do no harm to tell you that Philip suffered no reversals at all yesterday.”

  “He lost nothing?” Will asked.

  “Not a fip. I should know. I was his secretary. I was privy to all his business transactions.”

  “Are you sure?” Nell asked.

  After a slight hesitation, Catherine said, “As of noon yesterday, he was entirely solvent.” Her mouth curved in a slight smile. “My brother always liked to leave himself what he called an ‘escape plan’ for any transaction he entered into. That is as much as I’m willing to tell you. Suffice it to say the gold crash did not adversely affect him.”

  “Any thoughts, then,” Nell asked, “as to why and how he died?”

  Catherine said, “My feeling—and it’s a very strong feeling—is that it must have had something to do with those Bassett women.”

  “Are you saying you think they were capable of harming your brother in some way?” Nell asked.

  “Rebecca Bassett is a manipulative little gold digger under that nitwit façade, and as for Miriam, I honestly do think she’s unbalanced. All those visits to my brother, her fixation on ending his engagement to Rebecca... To tell you the truth, she always frightened me a little. Now, she frightens me a great deal.”

  “How do you think he ended up on those steps?” Will asked.

  “He didn’t jump. Other than that, I’m at a loss.”

  “Perhaps we can be of some help in sorting it out,” Nell said. “Would you mind our going up to his office and taking a look around?”

  “I...don’t suppose so,” Catherine said. “You wouldn’t be...moving things around, would you? I plan to leave that room and his bedroom exactly as they were when he was alive—permanently. No changes so long as I live in this house, which, God willing, will be for the remainder of my life.”

  “We’ll be very careful,” Will said, “and we’ll be sure to tidy up before we leave.”

  “All right, then. I’ll take you up there.” Catherine made as if to rise, which was Will’s signal to pull out her chair, then Nell’s.

  As Catherine ushered them out of the room, Nell said, “We would like to bring Mr. Bassett’s private business papers back to his daughters.”

  “Yes, of course. Quite frankly, I’d rather not have any reminder of that family in this house.”

  Will said, “It would be helpful to know who came to see Mr. Munro yesterday afternoon.”

  “I couldn’t say,” Catherine said as she led them past the main staircase with its elaborately carved banisters. “I spent the morning upstairs assisting Philip with his business affairs, as I generally do, but I took to my bed around noon with a headache from the doorbell. It had been ringing all morning.”

  “You heard the doorbell on the fourth floor?” Nell asked.

  “There are two wires on the front bell pull. One leads to a bell in the kitchen, and the other to one in the office.”

  Nell said, “Then I take it Mr. Munro had a great many visitors yesterday morning, if the doorbell kept ringing.”

  “No, it was just telegrams—scads of them. Well, one or two runners with notes asking for appointments, but mostly fellows from Western Union, delivering and picking up telegrams. The ringing was incessant. It gave me a beastly sick headache. I’m prone to them, I’m afraid. My lady’s maid had to shake me awake to tell me...what had happened to Philip.”

  “You’d been asleep that entire time?” Will asked. “Three and a half hours?”

  “I’d taken a headache tonic.”

  “Who discovered Mr. Munro’s body?” Nell asked.

  “His attorney arrived for an appointment and found him on the front steps. I don’t imagine he’d been there very long, or a neighbor would surely have noticed.” Pausing in the doorway of a utilitarian stair hall lit by a skylight, Catherine said, “Philip’s visitors generally came in through the back door off the kitchen yard and went up these service stairs to his office. They’re the only stairs t
hat run from the lower level, where the kitchen is, all the way up to the attic. The main staircase terminates at the third floor.”

  “What types of visitors did he generally have?” Nell asked.

  “Oh, various sorts—the gentlemen he was partnered with in assorted ventures, friends such as your brother Harry, gentlemen he advised on business matters...”

  “Like Noah Bassett?” Will asked.

  “Mr. Bassett came occasionally, not often. I gather he was in ill health. Mostly he and Philip communicated in writing—letters delivered by messenger.”

  “What about Mr. Munro’s lady friends?” Nell asked. “Other than Miriam Bassett, I mean. Did they visit him at the house?”

  Catherine looked away for a moment, her mouth tight. “Some of them. Philip was generally in his office until eight or nine at night—he was a hard worker, often ate at his desk—and sometimes he would...entertain ladies up there.”

  “Did they come through the back door and up the service stairs, like the gentlemen?”

  Catherine nodded. “They preferred to go unnoticed by the neighbors, as you can imagine.”

  Nell said, “But they can’t very well have gone unnoticed by you, if you were working in your brother’s office when they arrived.”

  “The ladies who called on my brother mostly visited in the afternoons or evenings, so I rarely saw them. If it came to my attention that Philip was entertaining one of his female acquaintances, I merely ignored the fact and went on about my business.”

  “Did they ever arrange these...assignations in advance?” Nell asked. “As your brother’s secretary, I would assume you were privy to his appointments.”

  “That’s neither here nor there, Miss Sweeney. My brother maintained an admirable discretion in such matters. So shall I.” Except, of course, when it came to Miriam Bassett. “As to whether any gentlemen visited him yesterday afternoon, I believe there were several appointments on Philip’s calendar, and I’d be willing to show you that page, if you’d like to see it.”