Rags to Rubies

by Annalisa Russo

  He tapped a rhythm on the arm of the sofa. Communication with Sallie, though not productive, was twice daily. The jewelry shop had reopened but nothing seemed amiss. Perhaps Hollister had simply taken a few days off in Grace’s absence. All leads had a dead end.

  He leaned his head back against the chair. Would he ever be able to untangle this mystery? Why would anyone want Grace dead? Who could possibly have anything to gain by it? She didn’t have great wealth or property, but after the Dussalt party, there was no question she’d been the target. Somehow The Peacock Club and the jewels figured in, but how? And why? There had to be a motive.

  Jared sighed and catalogued his thoughts as a man approached. “Hello, Smith.” Jared rose and extended his hand to the older man. “Did you get my bank draft?”

  “Of course, and the sapphires were a steal at five thousand dollars. They’re worth twice that,” Smith said, opening the velvet box. “Amazing how you always seem to be in the right place at the right time.”

  Jared glanced into the box and held Smith’s steely eyes for a moment. “Find a buyer,” he said in a flat voice.

  Smith frowned. “But why? I heard the enthusiasm in your voice when I told you about the necklace. Figured there would soon be a happy woman somewhere.”

  Jared knew Smith would make a lucrative profit in the resale of the necklace, but so would he. “Do it.”

  “Anything you say,” Smith responded with a smile as he snapped the lid shut.

  ****

  “I wish I had some information, Jare. We tailed Hollister. He goes from home to work and back again. No debt to speak of. No record. No relatives. Lives alone.”

  “Find out where he went for a few days, Sallie, and run the rest of the employees at the club. I know the club is the link.” Jared tapped the black receiver with his forefinger. “And the working stiff from The Peacock Club, the one spending more money than usual?” Jared wondered why that seemingly insignificant piece of information had nagged at him.

  “Nothing unusual. I checked him out myself yesterday.”

  “What did he look like,” Jared asked wondering why it should matter.

  “Brown hair, brown eyes, muscular build.”

  “Real unusual, huh?” Jared said. And then as an after thought he asked, “What was he wearing?”

  “Blue shirt with a red and white label above the pocket.”

  Jared sat upright. “Did you get close enough to read the label, Sallie?”

  “Sure. Metropolitan Insured Courier Service. Mean anything to you?”

  ****

  Will was sitting up in the iron bed with a rakish grin on his face when Jared entered the hospital room. An attractive young woman with dark bobbed hair peeking out from her crisp white nurse’s cap tended to his bandages, obviously the latest victim of Will’s charm.

  ”I see some things never change,” Jared murmured, extending a hand to his friend as the pretty nurse left.

  “Ouch! Jare, you rotter, that truly hurt. I’m an injured man in need of tender loving care,” Will quipped.

  “How are you, Will? I take it you’re going to live?”

  “Don’t look so disappointed, sport.” Will sobered and gestured toward a wooden folding chair near the iron bed. “I’m glad you’re here. I want to talk to you.” He seemed to be choosing his words. “I thought about what you said to me. It’s hard for me to admit, but I’m a lousy husband...was a lousy husband. Agnes is the best thing that ever happened to me. I do truly love her, but you were right. I wasn’t treating her that way.” Will’s hooded eyes reflected the enormous guilt he carried.

  “A brush with death has cathartic results, Will.”

  “It’s not only that. I’ve always known that Agnes takes care of the kids and me. She’s the glue that makes us a family. And besides, she’s beautiful and kind and smart and fun to be with. I guess I couldn’t believe she could want me. Really want me.”

  “Yeah, I wondered about that myself.”

  “Thanks, pal.”

  Cutting to the chase, Jared asked, “Don’t go maudlin on me, Will. Just tell me what you’re going to do about it.”

  “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to her. I swear.”

  “What was that, dear?” Agnes asked as she swept in the door looking radiant in a soft green-and-cream knit with a matching cloche hat. She planted a kiss on her husband’s upturned face.

  Turning to Jared, she briefly embraced him and asked, “Have you figured out what happened yet?”

  “No, Agnes. I wish I knew. A few things are beginning to surface but nothing conclusive as yet.” Jared explained the current theories, then rose from his chair. “I’ll let you know as soon as I know something solid.” He kissed Agnes briefly and turned to his friend.

  “Will.” Jared nodded in approval as he shook his friend’s hand, and to his surprise Will pulled him into a bear hug.

  ****

  “Just drive for a while, Henry. Not in traffic. Take it down the coast,” Jared instructed Henry Cobb. Dark clouds swirled overhead, and a light rain began to pelt the vehicle.

  She makes us a family, Will had said. Sure, Will and Agnes had two children. Two reasons to stay together and work things out.

  Jared reached into a compartment and withdrew a bottle. Lifting it to his lips, he drank deeply, letting the liquid warm his insides on the way down.

  He wouldn’t go back to Ravenhall just yet. Grace’s quiet compliance made him uncomfortable. Not because she tried to make him feel guilty. Just the opposite. She treated him with innate grace and dignity, smiling and conversing whenever they came together, but he could hear the pain in her voice, see it in her eyes as she turned them away.

  The rain slashed against the window and ran sideways into tiny rivers. He’d never been able to stand seeing a woman hurt, so he’d always been careful not to make promises to any of the women he let into his life.

  Even to her. Especially to her.

  Never once had the sexual encounters he’d experienced touched him. Though he was considerate of his bed partners, he met only their physical needs. And they met his.

  He knew how to be alone and was accustomed to it, and he was no longer a child fearful of being tossed out into the street.

  Grace had mentioned again last night that she would prefer to return home, but in the light of Sallie’s report today, she was safer with him in New York. If she stayed within Ravenhall. He cringed every time he thought of how close she had come to a bullet in the back.

  So he would stay away, because he couldn’t trust himself to be around her and not touch her. She was so damn beautiful, so incredibly soft and feminine. No matter how hard he fought it, he found himself reliving every moment of the night they had spent together. Hell, he spent most waking moments thinking about it. But any man with a healthy sex drive would be drawn to her. Would want her.

  He’d been furious when he thought she’d left the party with Adam. It shouldn’t have mattered, yet the mere thought of anyone touching her, anyone but him, set his blood boiling. The flash of raw possessiveness unnerved him. He hadn’t expected to have this appalling response. He’d expected to enjoy the pleasure of her body and be able to detach, compartmentalize.

  Earlier today, a fleeting expression of irritability had passed over her face when he informed her it would be a few more days before they could leave. Maybe she was sick of him? He wouldn’t blame her.

  Jared took another deep swallow of the liquor. It would be best if he separated himself from her as much as possible. Things between them were already too complicated. As long as she was within the walls of Ravenhall, she was safe. He could trust his staff and Donagon to watch over her.

  After forming the plan, he felt much better.

  “Take me to Texas Guinan’s, Henry.”

  Maybe a night of cards and female entertainment would ease his conscience. Or at least numb it. He glanced at his wristwatch. Six o’clock. If he hurried, he could still get stinking drunk by m
idnight.

  ****

  He’d achieved his objective perfectly, he thought, as he stumbled into Ravenhall at four a.m. Donagon’s door was ajar as Jared strode past it.

  “Yo,” Donagon said from somewhere behind him.

  “I won’t be needing you, Donagon. Go back to sleep,” Jared slurred as he started up the stairs.

  “Hold on, boyo...”

  “Not now, Donagon.”

  “Now.”

  “I said not now, Donagon,” Jared growled, pulling himself up the stairs by the handrail. “Whatever it is...it can wait. Until morning. Good. Night.”

  Jared ignored the disgust in Donagon’s voice as the man muttered, “Kneewalkin’ drunk...no good to anyone anyhow.”

  ****

  Sleep hadn’t come easily in spite of the large quantities of liquor Jared had so deftly consumed. Female companionship had been readily available last night, if not downright entertaining. If it hadn’t been for the late hour and the liquor, he might have taken advantage of it, he told himself. One long-limbed, curvaceous blonde had been especially inviting. Then why had his dreams been full of small, vaporous, auburn-haired nymphs with deep sapphire eyes and crooked smiles?

  Jared pulled back his bedroom’s heavy draperies to check the weather. Very early morning, he deduced from the grey mist clinging to the windowpane as the sun began to emerge from the dark skies. He scrubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. He’d avoided Grace all day and night yesterday.

  He would check on her briefly, and if she didn’t need him for anything pressing, he’d plead personal business this morning. He headed to the bathroom, wondering whether it was that he couldn’t bear the sight of her or that he couldn’t trust himself to behave around her.

  Shortly, Jared descended the staircase and caught sight of Donagon rounding the corner.

  “Donagon. Please ask Grace to meet me in the library when she awakens.”

  “Sorry, boyo.”

  Whirling around, Jared glared at his manservant. “What did you say?”

  “I said, no, sir, I canna do that.”

  “Explain yourself,” Jared growled, his patience waning with the pounding over his eyes.

  His butler returned the glare. “The lass and her aunt left early yesterday mornin’, sir.”

  “Continue,” Jared said through clenched teeth.

  “Took the train back to Chicago, they did. The lass asked me to fetch her a ride. What was I supposed to do, with ’er all hell-bent on leavin’ and you out gallivanting with Henry all damn day an’ night and comin’ home drunk as a boiled owl...”

  Jared cut him off with a foul expletive directed more at himself than at Donagon.

  She would be home by now. Blast the woman! Why was she so damned independent? Hell, he didn’t blame her. It wasn’t as if he’d given her much reason to come to him.

  He had to get to Chicago as quickly as possible. Didn’t Will know someone in the burgeoning commercial air travel business?

  He scowled at Donagon. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault.”

  “Sure and you’ve got the right of it. Sir.”

  Jared turned, only to bump into the grim faces of Henry and Mary Francis and wonder how Grace, in one week, had managed to garner the support of his staff against him. He heaved a sigh. Obviously he was being blamed collectively for running Grace and Zia Bruna off into certain danger.

  “Get Will on the line, Mary Francis,” he said curtly. “I’m going to pack a few things.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Grace hastened along a familiar route through the predominantly Irish neighborhood on the southwest side of Chicago’s loop. She hugged a woolen scarf tightly about her neck and braved the harsh wind blowing in from the lake. The stiff breeze held a hint of snow in its wake.

  It seemed just yesterday her life had been ordinary, predictable, and now she was trying to outrun a murderer, had lost her virginity, and had fallen head over heels in love with a virtual stranger. Or so he had become since relieving her of that esteemed state.

  Tomorrow she would take the trolley to work, but today she needed the long walk to clear her mind and try to achieve a semblance of normality in her life. She actually laughed aloud at the thought. Funny how the thought of a psychopath breathing down her neck didn’t disturb her as much as the memory of her recent fall from grace with the notable Jared Dunstan de Warre III.

  So she’d lost her virginity to him. It wasn’t as if she were planning to do much with it anyway, but she had told Jared about the pain Adam’s betrayal had caused, and that made what happened between them so devastating. Even someone who was just a friend would not have toyed with her emotions when her life was being threatened.

  Maybe, she reasoned, he did have a slim excuse for his behavior. Denied a family of his own, he’d never learned how to show affection or even to feel its warmth. Out of necessity, he had learned only to count on himself. He functioned in the normal world by not really being a part of it.

  She turned onto Wabash Avenue and walked the last few blocks to the shop.

  Today she had her own neck to save, so Jared’s emotional quirks weren’t her problem. After much thought, she’d decided the only option was to flush out her attacker, to go about her normal routine until he sought her out again.

  Even if she went to the police, they would wait until he showed himself. Zia Bruna adamantly disagreed with her about leaving Ravenhall, where she was relatively safe, but Grace didn’t feel she had a choice. She needed to take back control of her own destiny. Strangely, doing so had quelled some of the mind-numbing terror she’d been experiencing.

  Grace slipped her hand into her pocket and fingered the small firearm. She wouldn’t be caught defenseless. The twenty-five caliber derringer would do little other than buy her some time, but she felt comfortable with it. In spite of the bravado she’d so smugly described to Jared, she realized the need for caution. She would be ready this time.

  Ready as she would ever be.

  Turning the key in the lock at D. L. Hollister and Co., Grace wondered why the windows in the shop were dark in the gray morning mist. Entering, she called out Leo’s name without receiving an answer. She raised the roller shades in the front windows and turned on the electric lights.

  When she’d spoken to Leo after arriving from New York late the night before, he seemed relieved that she’d returned from her trip and would be returning to work in the morning, but it looked like she had reached the shop before he did.

  She began the morning routine of opening the old vault to retrieve the shop’s more valuable pieces and put them back in the window display cases. The six-inch-thick portal groaned open; the familiar musty odor assaulted her senses. She pushed in the top button on the light switch.

  Squinting in the bright light, she stared blankly into the vault. Every gem, every valuable piece of jewelry was gone! The shelves were completely empty.

  We’ve been robbed! she thought, as her mind reeled, trying to make sense of it. The vault’s lock wasn’t damaged and, to her knowledge, other than herself no one but Leo Hollister and her father had ever known the combination.

  Behind her the wooden floor creaked. Grace whirled about to find herself looking down the sleek, shiny barrel of a pistol. Sucking in her breath sharply, she looked from the gun to the face of the man who held it and realized in an instant that, in spite of the long years of association, she had never really known her employer.

  Leo Hollister’s thin lips curled in a sinister smile. His grim visage hinted at a controlled rage just below the surface. Grace looked into glazed eyes that held a glimmer of what could only be called madness.

  Her breath came in short gasps. “I don’t understand,” she said, looking from the gun to his contorted face, her tightened voice a whisper. “How could it be you?” she asked, wondering if he would have a lucid answer. “Why, Leo?”

  “It’s all very simple, my dear,” Leo Hollister began in a voice nightmarishly chilling. “Com
e with me quietly, and maybe I’ll enlighten you.” He jerked the gun barrel toward a side door and waited while she closed the vault and moved toward the door.

  In the narrow alley behind the shop, a nondescript Model-T Ford sat parked with the motor running. Hollister opened the vehicle’s back door, shoved Grace in, and followed to sit beside her.

  Securing her hands with rope, he settled into the seat with a satisfied look on his face. “Get down,” he ordered roughly and shoved her to the floor, pushing her head down. “Let’s go,” he said to the driver who turned to look over the seat.

  “What you gonna do with her?” the man asked as he revved the motor.

  The man in the driver’s seat looked vaguely familiar, although all she had seen of his face above the high seat were his narrow, deep-set eyes.

  “She’s none of your concern,” Hollister spat at the man. “Just drive!”

  “You never said nothing ’bout doin’ no dame.”

  “I’ll take care of the woman. If you want your cut, just do as I say and drive.” The malice in Hollister’s voice unnerved Grace. Her mind raced in a desperate attempt to reason out what was happening to her.

  The automobile jerked ahead, the tires spinning on the dewy pavement. As the driver sped along back streets and alleys, Grace forced herself to think logically. She still couldn’t fathom why Leo would harm her. She’d known him all her life, and while he’d never been affectionate toward her, she’d assumed he had a reclusive nature. After all, he had been her mother’s friend, and Papa’s, too. What could this possibly be about? Nothing seemed real, yet the gun he held on her seemed to shine with malevolence.

  When he finally spoke again, her fear became palpable.

  “You look just like her, you know.” His flat tone was chilling in its apathy.

  Grace’s voice stuck in her throat. The possibility that he was deranged became reality. She tried to suck air into her constricted lungs.

  “She should have been mine,” he murmured, his blunt fingers brushing lightly at the wisps of hair that framed her forehead.

  Grace tightened against the floor. His glazed eyes narrowed. Leo was undiminished with age, broad-shouldered and well muscled. She’d often wondered how he could perform the delicate and precise work of cutting precious stones with his beefy fingers. She would never be able to overpower him. She needed to get to the gun in her pocket.