The Fall Of White City (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 1)

by N. S. Wikarski

  From the corner a voice interrupted, “Are there to be no other ladies, Miss LeClair?” It was Superintendent Flint.

  Mrs. Templar laughed airily. “Really, sir, how ungallant a sentiment. Not content with the scintillating presence of Miss LeClair and myself, you long for other female companionship? I hardly know what to think.”

  The Superintendent blushed to his sparse hair roots when he realized his faux pas.

  Evangeline allowed him to squirm and stammer for a sufficient interval before relieving his distress. “This was primarily intended to be a business gathering, and I have provided as many members of the fair sex as propriety demands. But, as it happens, there will be another lady to indulge your need for feminine variety. Since I fear she’s been detained, we may as well all go into the dining room. We can discuss the reason for this assembly after a full meal.”

  When the party had regrouped in the dining room, Evangeline directed their seating. “Jonathan, you’re at the opposite end of the table, with Mr. Sidley on your right. The seat on your left is to remain vacant. It will be for the lady. Freddie, you’re at my right with Superintendent Flint next to you. On my left will be Mr. Mason with Mrs. Templar next to him. There, I think that covers everyone.” Evangeline looked around with satisfaction at her guests and at the table covered with a brilliant profusion of orchids, lilies, Limoges, and Baccarat.

  She rang a silver bell that had been placed next to her plate. A white-gloved attendant entered the room.

  “Briggs, you may serve the first course now.”

  “Yes, miss. Very good.” The servant disappeared toward the kitchen.

  The party indulged in idle conversation as one course followed another. Even Superintendent Flint lost his grumpiness after a very good lobster bisque and some escalloped oysters. The only event that marred the perfection of the dinner was Briggs’s clumsiness when pouring the wine. He was in the process of refilling Jonathan’s glass when he tipped the bottle at an unfortunate angle, staining the table cloth and nearly hitting the banker’s coat sleeve in the process. Blackthorne glared at the man in annoyance at the prospect of his most expensive suit being ruined.

  “Clumsy fool!” he muttered.

  Rather than rebuking the servant, Evangeline smiled inexplicably. “Very good, Briggs.” She appraised Blackthorne’s person. “Well, it appears no harm has befallen you, Jonathan. So sorry. Please do have some more stewed terrapin.”

  After this episode, the dinner proceeded without a ripple. They had just begun with the boned quail in jelly when a knock was heard on the dining room door. Jack poked his head in. “Sorry, Miss Engie, but there’s a gentleman at the door who insists he has to see you on some urgent business. Says it can’t wait. I tried to make him go away, but he wouldn’t.”

  “Why not invite him in here, Jack? We can always make a place for him.” The caretaker nodded and disappeared. A rumble of speculative conversation began around the table. Jonathan stared at Evangeline quizzically, looking for some clue regarding the unknown visitor. The lady merely shrugged and said, “Qui sait?” before taking another forkful of quail.

  Jack opened the dining room door again and scratched his head in puzzlement. “Excuse me, Miss Engie, but the gentleman wants me to announce him as Mr. Sidley. Don’t we already have one of those here tonight?”

  Blackthorne looked at the Sidley who was seated next to him. Jonathan was obviously mystified by the turn events had taken, but he was exhibiting no signs of alarm. Sidley, on the other hand, had begun to loosen his collar and complain of the stuffiness in the room.

  Evangeline watched in amusement. “I believe, Jack, our new visitor is a Mr. Sidley lately arrived from Dodgeville, Iowa. Freddie, perhaps you’d like to do the honors?”

  Freddie dabbed his mouth with his napkin and stood up importantly. A blond man walked into the room, hat in hand. He was in his late thirties, and sported a thin moustache on which he used a sparing amount of wax. Freddie announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Mr. Jeremiah Sidley, a banker I met a while back in Iowa. I believe he’s here tonight to renew an old acquaintance.”

  Mr. Jeremiah Sidley looked around at a half-dozen pair of eyes staring back at him inquisitively. He remained sheepish until his gaze settled on the gentleman to Blackthorne’s right. Then his expression changed to that of the wrathful prophet who was his namesake. Without so much as a hello, he pointed a finger and said, “That’s him. Glasses or no glasses, I’d recognize that lying, thieving swindler anywhere, anytime! It’s Jacob Kingston, all right!”

  The accountant had pulled out a handkerchief and begun to mop his brow. “I d... don’t know what you m... mean. Is the fellow m... mad? My name is J... Jacob Sidley.”

  The visitor thundered in reply, “Your name is Jacob Kingston and you robbed me and my bank of one-hundred-thousand dollars! Deny it, if you can! I’ll testify in court that it’s what you did. You can lie about it, but I’ve got proof.”

  Blackthorne had begun nervously tapping on the table. He was becoming unsettled by the confrontation and tried to interpose. “Surely, Engie, this isn’t the time for accusations such as this. It’s a matter for the police.”

  “For once, I quite agree with you, Jonathan. It is a matter for the police. That’s why I invited Superintendent Flint. And there are several more accusations to be heard before this dinner ends.”

  “I hardly think this falls within the jurisdiction of the Chicago Police Department,” Flint said.

  “Perhaps not,” the lady relented, “but I should think that embezzlement from a Chicago brokerage firm would.”

  Blackthorne gasped at Evangeline’s words. It appeared as if Sidley had stopped breathing altogether.

  “I also think a murder committed in a Chicago hotel would fall within your jurisdiction, wouldn’t you?” she asked the superintendent pointedly.

  Bill Mason rubbed his hands together with glee. “Oh boy, do I smell a story here!”

  Mrs. Templar was drinking in every word. She fixed her eyes on the superintendent as if silently daring him to answer in the negative.

  Instead, Flint agreed. “Well, yes, I suppose both those crimes would be handled by my force. But these are serious charges, Miss LeClair. You’d better be able to substantiate what you’re suggesting.”

  “Oh, I intend to.” Evangeline rose from the table and whispered for Jack to take Mr. Jeremiah Sidley to a guest room where he could calm down in private. She then walked over to the end of the table where Sidley and Blackthorne were seated. Placing her hands on the back of the banker’s chair, she directed her comments over his head to the superintendent.

  “Sir, I have serious reason to believe that these two were involved in an embezzlement scheme at Dresden And Company. They worked there together for over two years, but strangely enough the two of them seem to have developed amnesia with regard to their former association. Perhaps they had reason to forget so sordid a shared past. I’m convinced Mr. Sidley actually embezzled the funds while Mr. Blackthorne covered up the crime in order to blackmail Mr. Sidley.”

  “That’s absurd.” Blackthorne’s voice was chill with contempt.

  Sidley shook his head violently and seemed to be mouthing the word “no,” but no sound emerged.

  Flint’s response was characteristically patronizing. “Well, that makes no sense, Miss LeClair. We all know Mr. Blackthorne comes from a wealthy and distinguished family. He wouldn’t need to blackmail anyone for money.”

  Evangeline smiled thinly. “One may blackmail for a variety of reasons other than money, Superintendent. In this case, I believe that what Mr. Blackthorne required was an accomplice in seducing innocent girls.”

  Evangeline couldn’t see Blackthorne’s face when she said the words, but she could feel the physical shock wave that traveled through his body as she held onto the back of his chair.

  “What!” the superintendent gasped. The others were equally shocked, but said nothing. Everyone looked tensely at the two seated at
the end of the table.

  Blackthorne’s voice, dangerously low and controlled, broke the silence. “I hope, my dear, you have a great deal of proof to back up an accusation like that.”

  Evangeline returned to her own chair. “What I have found are an enormous number of coincidences. Such a number that they defy the laws of probability. Odd bits of information that, taken together, present a most damning case against you both.” She looked at the two men with contempt. “Regrettably, rape and abandonment are not capital offenses. However, it gives me great satisfaction to point out that one of you committed another crime, which is... murder!” She quickly rang the little silver bell again.

  As if they had been waiting for the signal, Evangeline’s two servants entered the room. She acknowledged their presence and then addressed the group. “As my guests this evening, you have all made the informal acquaintance of these two worthy fellows. You’ll recall that one opened the door for you, and the other waited at table. What you may not know is that neither one is regularly employed by me. One is a reception clerk at the Templar House, while the other is a porter there. They have come here tonight with the blessing of Mrs. Templar to see if they could identify anyone in connection with a murder that occurred at their hotel over a month ago.”

  “Oh yes, that German seamstress who was killed there,” Superintendent Flint said offhandedly.

  “Her name,” Evangeline corrected, “was Elsa Bauer and she was a student of mine.”

  “That was q... quite a sh... shocking business,” Sidley chimed in nervously. “But the police apprehended the killer, didn’t they?”

  “They apprehended a suspect. There were a few other equally suspicious characters they overlooked. In their haste to solve the case, they may even have planted evidence in order to justify the arrest.”

  A howl of protest rose from the superintendent. Blackthorne grumbled at the absurdity of the accusation. Sidley made a superhuman effort to keep breathing. Bill Mason and Freddie traded significant looks, while Mrs. Templar serenely fanned herself.

  “But do not despair, Superintendent,” Evangeline continued. “Freddie and I have done your work for you, so your department will have no need to falsify evidence in order to gain a conviction. Lo and behold, we’ve uncovered eyewitnesses who can point you in the right direction.”

  She wheeled about and addressed the two servants. “Humphrey, you said you saw a man who asked for Elsa Bauer’s room number shortly before the murder occurred. Is he in the room this evening?”

  Humphrey sprang forward. “Yes, miss. No question, it’s the man near the other end of the table. I clicked my heels as a signal to you that he was the man when I announced him earlier.”

  “Do you mean Mr. Kingston, or rather Mr. Sidley as he likes to be called now?—just so there’ll be no doubt.”

  “Yes, Mr. Sidley. He wasn’t wearing glasses when I saw him at the hotel, though.”

  “Quite. I have ascertained to my own satisfaction that Mr. Sidley doesn’t really need his spectacles. But at any rate, you’re sure it’s the same man?”

  Humphrey nodded energetically. Sidley looked at Blackthorne in a panic, his eyes imploring some sort of escape plan. Blackthorne merely gazed back at him coolly, promising nothing.

  Evangeline continued. “There was also a witness who saw a man loitering about in the hall outside Elsa Bauer’s room. A far more suspicious place to be seen, wouldn’t you agree?” She asked the question of the assembled group. All, with the exception of the two suspects, nodded in assent.

  “Briggs.” She addressed the other servant. “Perhaps you’d be good enough to point out the man you saw there.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the porter answered readily. “It’s the one I spilled wine over on purpose.”

  “Mr. Blackthorne? This man?” She walked over to the banker’s chair and placed her hand on his shoulder. He flinched at the contact, but made no further movement.

  “That’s him, sure enough. I got a good look at him,” the porter added. “I’d just popped out of the stairwell, but I saw him clear enough. He seemed like he was in a trance. Just walking back and forth outside the door for a few minutes. And when he knocked, the lady opened the door and told him to come in because she was expecting him.”

  The tension in the room was at the breaking point. Everyone nearly jumped out of their chairs when Jack quietly opened the door to the dining room and said, “The lady has arrived.” Turning to Evangeline, he asked significantly, “Shall I show her in?”

  “Yes, please do, Jack. And stand by, will you?”

  The caretaker nodded. He stepped aside and announced, “Miss Rosa Grandinetti.”

  At the sound of the name, Sidley sprang from his chair in terror and backed away from the table.

  The girl entered the room, shy and a bit disoriented. It would have been hard to tell her profession judging from the respectable manner in which she was dressed for the occasion. She turned first to Evangeline. “Miss Engie? Who are all these people?”

  “Friends, Rosa. Mostly, that is.”

  “You said he would be here.” She searched around for a face she recognized. Barely glancing at Freddie, her gaze rested on Sidley. “Mr. Sidley, is it really you?”

  Sidley backed even farther against the wall. “Rosa, I... I’m sorry, I never meant for this to happen... It wasn’t my idea, you see. I wasn’t really to blame.”

  She said nothing more, like a dreamer who doesn’t question the absurd presence of the figures who populate her sleep. She continued to cast her eyes vaguely around the room until she finally saw the face she’d been looking for.

  “Jonathan?” she began tentatively. She took a step forward. Blackthorne regarded her apprehensively.

  “Do I know you?” His face, which had registered nothing more than contempt through the entire meal, took on a haunted expression.

  “Jonathan, please! They said you’d forgiven me. Don’t do this now! My heart will break instead of the china rose if you turn me away again.”

  Blackthorne looked tensely at the assembled party. “Really, I don’t know her. She’s clearly mistaken me for someone else.”

  Evangeline came to stand behind Rosa, putting her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Never mind what he says, Rosa. Do you know this man?”

  “Yes, of course I do.”

  “What’s his name then?”

  “Why, it’s Jonathan. Jonathan DeVille.”

  “That’s what he told you his name was?”

  Rosa turned to look at her in surprise. “Why, of course. How else should I know his name if he didn’t tell me what it was?”

  “Rosa, did he make any promises to you of a personal nature?”

  “He said he loved me. He told me he wanted to marry me.” Her voice grew increasingly troubled. “Then he said I betrayed him, but I can’t remember how. So he told me he didn’t care for me any more and he took all the love back.” She whispered to herself, “All the love I’d ever had in the world, and he took it back again.”

  At this, Rosa began to sob. She fell to her knees in a knot of misery at Jonathan’s feet. Blackthorne turned his head away.

  Evangeline knelt down beside her to whisper, “Everything will be all right. I promise you.” She motioned for the two servants to assist in getting Rosa on her feet again. “Please take her into the kitchen. Delphine is there. She’ll know what to do.”

  The girl wept as she was being led from the room. “How can you be this cruel, Jonathan? I have thought of no one but you for two years. Two years! Haven’t I paid enough?”

  A deathlike silence settled over the room after she left. In amazement, Bill Mason asked, “Who was that?”

  “One of their former victims, who had the misfortune to live,” replied Evangeline. “She can tell you a great deal about their method of operation in these matters, as can a certain boarding-house owner named Mrs. Hatch.”

  The mention of the name was apparently the equivalent of the proverbial straw because
Sidley finally lost control. With nary a pause or a stutter he shouted at Blackthorne, “I won’t take the blame for this!”

  “Jacob, sit down and be quiet!” Blackthorne ordered authoritatively.

  Sidley was too near hysteria to comply. “You said no one would ever connect us! Well, you were wrong! God knows I’ve gone outside the law at your bidding, but murder was never part of our bargain. All I did was find out for you what room she was in. I didn’t kill her. You did! I know you did! And now you want me to be quiet so you can pin the blame on me! I won’t hang for you, Jonathan!”

  Without warning, Sidley attempted to bolt from the room. Jack, who had apparently been ready for just such an eventuality, pulled a revolver out of his coat pocket and pointed it directly at Sidley’s chest. The latter froze in his tracks.

  “Really, Mr. Sidley, enough of this nonsense. Do sit down.” Evangeline folded her napkin neatly at the side of her plate. “Jack is quite a good marksman, and I think he would be most irritated at the person responsible for leaving bloodstains on the carpet.”

  Sidley cowered back down into his chair.

  Blackthorne’s composure had begun to crack. “This is all wild accusation! A case of mistaken identity. You can’t prove I was in that hotel room at all!”

  “You’re quite wrong.” Evangeline walked over to his chair and reached into his coat pocket. She casually drew out his handkerchief. “A handkerchief matching this one in every detail was found clutched in Elsa Bauer’s hand. A few days ago, I contacted your tailor. He says the pattern is a design of your own. Quite as distinctive as a signature, wouldn’t you say?”

  At these words, Blackthorne’s composure shattered altogether. “What! But that can’t be! I never gave Elsa—” He stopped short.

  “What an unfortunate choice of words, Jonathan. Not at all what one would expect from an innocent man. Better to have said, ‘I never knew her, I never met her, I was never there,’ rather than what you were about to say: ‘I never gave Elsa a handkerchief.’” Evangeline paused for effect. “Oh, but there’s more proof you were there that night—and quite a bit more damning than a handkerchief.”