Beret considered the words as she looked out at the water. A dog or a muskrat or maybe a large rat was swimming along with the current. She had never swum and thought it might be nice to be carried along in the water’s flow like that, although she would prefer a cleaner stream. She considered what Mick had said as she watched the animal fight the current, then reach the shore—it was a dog, and it shook the water off its coat and ran off.
“I think your latter assumption is more likely,” Beret said at last. “Lillie did attract men. You know that yourself. And if Lillie could gain the affections of someone like Mr. Summers, then who’s to say that Jonas wouldn’t have loved her or at least wanted her. He knew what went on in the carriage—and in the house. I interviewed William, and he admitted that when my aunt and uncle were away, Lillie went into the parlor with men and locked the door.” Beret bit her lip. “It pains me to have to admit this.”
“You’re sure one of the men was Mr. Summers?”
“I can’t imagine that William would lie. And Nellie the maid all but confirmed it. No, I have no doubt.”
Mick turned away and stared across the river toward the mountains, whose peaks were still white with snow. A breeze seemed to sweep down from them. Clouds drifted in front of the sun, and Beret shivered, drawing her jacket close to her. The wind blew dead leaves across her, and when she looked down, she saw a snakeskin and wondered if its owner was nearby. She was cold now, and she wished they had gone for tea, although the weed-choked riverbank seemed somehow more intimate.
The detective turned back to her and studied Beret’s face, and then he took her hand and said, “I have something to show you. I was not sure I would do it. In fact, I was not so pleased to see you today, because I knew your presence meant I had to make a decision about it. By rights, it should go in with the other evidence we collected, but I think there is no reason for it now.” Mick added, a touch of acid in his voice, “Besides, I suspect it would disappear if a certain party found out we had it.”
Mick reached into his pocket and withdrew a book. It was small and cheap, a book of poems, the sort of sentimental trash that young girls read—the sort of poetry Lillie liked. Beret knew at once that it must be her sister’s. She reached for it, but Mick held tight to it and did not give it up.
“It’s Lillie’s,” Beret said.
“Yes, I’ll grant you that. Elsie gave it to me. She came in with it yesterday and said she thought you might want it. Her price was high—ten dollars. I got her down to six and paid her myself.”
“Then I shall reimburse you.” Beret thought it odd the detective was withholding the book against the transaction. She would not have paid such a usurious price for the cheap volume, which she would only put into the fire, but she could not allow Mick to be out the money because he had done her what he thought was a kindness. She reached again for the book, but Mick did not give it up.
“It’s not the book that matters. It’s of little importance, I suspect. But Elsie found something of value inside. She said she likes to read and had borrowed it from Lillie’s room the morning your sister was killed—stole it more likely, although she may have intended to return it if she didn’t like the poems. She claims she didn’t open the book until yesterday and then came straightaway to me with it.” He extracted a piece of paper from the book, then handed it to Beret, who took it but didn’t look at it. She held out her hand for the paper, and the detective gave it to her.
The paper was cream-colored, heavy, and expensive, like a woman’s writing paper. The message inside was written in pencil, and it was undated. Beret studied the handwriting for a moment, because it was crude and hard to make out, and then she read the message.
My Dearest Darling Lillie
Forgive me for not calling on you last night. My wife demanded my presence, and I thought it best not to aggravate her. So much is at stake. She is beginning to see reason, and in time, I believe she will release me. Meanwhile, I have found a house for you—and the little one. Until I can kiss your sweet lips, I hold you in my heart and dream of the great happiness that will be ours.
Your Papa
Beret read the note twice, then set it down on the rock beside her and wrinkled her mouth in distaste. “Well, he’s no poet, that’s certain. It’s a mawkish note. I would have expected better from Mr. Summers. Perhaps all old men in love lose their wits. What do you make of it?”
“It seems your sister was telling the truth when she claimed a married man was pursuing her—a wealthy one if it was indeed Evan Summers.”
“Do you have any doubt?”
“I hardly think Joey would sign a note ‘Your Papa.’ And he has no wife. What do you intend to do with the letter? It’s a pity we’re not into blackmail. This would bring a pretty penny. It’s your decision.”
“Blackmail?”
“No, the disposal of the letter. Elsie sold it to me, and no one else but you knows of it. I think if the chief and others were aware that Mr. Summers wrote it, they could cause a great deal of mischief. And if it was made public, it could do Evan Summers considerable harm. That would serve him right, of course, but I wouldn’t like to blacken Caro. By rights, it is yours.”
Beret thought that over. “I don’t know. If Mr. Summers had been the one to ruin Lillie or if we thought he had killed her, then we might be tempted to use the letter to embarrass him. But should we expose a man just because he is unhappily married and was infatuated with my sister?”
“But he was the father of her baby.”
Beret stood and took a few steps toward the river so that she was standing on the bank, looking down at the flow, which reminded her of dirty dishwater. “Do we really know that? Did Lillie herself know who fathered her baby? I suspect Mr. Summers was one of several who could have been responsible.” Beret picked up the note and ran her fingers along the crease. “It is not easy to talk this way about a sister I loved more than anyone in the world.” She stared out at the river, watching as two boys in a boat rowed themselves from one shore to the other. “Are you saying the letter is mine to keep?”
“I am.”
Beret placed it inside the book and put the book into her purse. “I think I shall destroy it in time, but not quite yet.” She removed some coins and held them out. “And here is your six dollars, unless, of course, the price has gone up.”
Mick looked startled and then grinned when he realized Beret was joking. “I’d rather you be in my debt. In fact, I’ll extract payment by insisting you go to a music performance at the Tabor Opera House on Sunday.”
Beret blushed. She was not used to flirting and was uncertain how to reply.
“Forgive me. I’ve embarrassed you. That was crude.”
“Not at all, Detective McCauley. You have no wife, I assume.”
He grinned again and shook his head.
“Then I should be pleased to accept.” Very pleased, Beret thought. This was an unexpected turn of events. She liked the detective more than any man she had met since Teddy left, and now she realized she liked him a great deal, indeed. She might stay on at the Stanton house even after the murder was solved, just because of him.
“There is one more thing. Would you call me Mick?”
“Mick.”
“And may I call you Beret?”
“I should like that ever so much better than Miss Osmundsen,” she said, liking the way he pronounced her first name.
As they parted, she knew the Sunday concert would be the most pleasant event she had attended since arriving in Denver, perhaps since Teddy had left the New York house. She looked forward to it, not just to the music but to being with Mick. The murders were behind them. Of course they were.
Chapter 18
In fact, Beret saw the detective before Sunday, because he was one of the guests Caroline Decker invited to her dinner party. The affair turned out to be more elaborate than Beret had expected, not an intimate supper at all but a gathering of some two dozen of Denver’s social elite.
She
had brought only a few clothes with her from New York and thought she might wear a suit, but her aunt insisted the dressmaker could ready one of Lillie’s frocks in time, and that it would be more presentable. The gown was one of the simpler ones. Even so, the blue silk with its insets of lace and low neckline was much too elaborate for Beret’s taste. And she feared that Caroline would recognize it as one of Lillie’s. But it couldn’t be helped. Beret either had to wear the gown or one of her day dresses, and so she donned the blue silk.
She turned down her aunt’s offer of diamonds, however, for she cared little about such adornment. But she did borrow Varina’s pearl earrings, which she wore with her own strand of pearls, an anniversary gift from Teddy. After the divorce, Beret had gone through the jewelry Teddy had given her and thought to dispose of it. But then she realized that Teddy had paid for it with her money—and that she liked the pieces very much. So she told herself it was as if she had purchased the jewelry herself, and she kept it. Teddy had had excellent taste and had bought her presents that complemented her severe style of dress. As she took out the pearls, she considered wearing one of the diamond brooches that Lillie had secreted away in a drawer, but she didn’t know where they had come from, and she would not want to wear something her sister had received from a lover—especially a lover who might be at Caro’s party.
Varina wore black again, with her diamonds, and the judge was clad in formal attire, and together they looked every bit a senator and his wife, whatever that meant, Beret thought. She admired her aunt’s poise. A lesser woman would have crumpled under the shame of a niece who had been murdered in a brothel and a coachman who had turned out to be a prurient killer. But Varina possessed an iron will—enough fortitude, if necessary, for both her and her husband.
The judge himself drove them to the Decker house, which was a jumble of rusticated sandstone. Beret had passed it earlier on one of her walks, and not knowing who lived there, she’d considered it overblown and pretentious with its towers and porches and too many stained-glass windows. Now, she was not much more impressed with the interior. The entrance was a rotundalike room with a massive staircase and a chandelier big enough for a railroad depot. A stained-glass window depicting some medieval scene dominated the landing. Oversized chairs, heavily carved, stood in front of dark linen-fold paneling that was higher than her uncle’s head. The effect was of a baronial hall, not a gracious home. It was designed to be intimidating, not welcoming.
Heraldic crests were painted on a frieze near the ceiling, and as she studied them, Beret made out words written next to them. “Shakespeare,” Mick McCauley whispered, coming up to her. “Decker fancies himself a bit of a scholar. The complete works of the bard are in the library, although don’t look too closely. The pages haven’t been cut.”
“Why, Detective … Mick. What a delightful surprise. I did not know you’d be here.”
“I’d have mentioned it if I’d known you were coming.”
“After you introduced me to Mrs. Decker, she was kind enough to send my aunt an invitation. I met her a second time—at a dreadful tea.” Beret smiled as if she’d said something naughty. “She is delightful and told me to call her Caro.”
“We’re all first names here, at least we younger ones are. I saw Caro and her husband welcome you, but have you met my aunt and uncle?” Without waiting for an answer, Mick steered Beret to a formidable-looking couple and said, “Aunt, Uncle, I have the honor of presenting to you Miss Beret Osmundsen, Judge and Mrs. Stanton’s niece from New York City. Beret, Mr. and Mrs. Summers.”
Your aunt and uncle, Beret wanted to exclaim, but instead, she bowed her head slightly as she told the couple she was pleased to meet them, hoping the gesture would hide her discomfort. She recovered and said to Mick, “Then you are Caro’s cousin. How fortunate you are. I did not know.” She turned to the Summerses. “Your daughter has been very kind to a stranger.”
“No stranger if you are John and Varina’s niece,” Mrs. Summers said, giving a tight smile, and Beret felt a little sorry for her. Judging from the note Mick had found in the poetry book, Beret thought Mrs. Summers must have been aware of the liaison between her husband and Lillie, and if she knew the object of her husband’s affections, she could hardly be expected to welcome Beret with much warmth. Summers himself stared at Beret so hard that she felt uncomfortable. He was a tall man with powerful shoulders, white hair, and pale blue eyes. Perhaps he’d seen Lillie in that very dress and was aware of its complicated snaps and hooks and buttons.
“Everyone has been so kind,” Beret continued, not knowing what else to say. “I believe I am the beneficiary of the affection felt for my aunt and uncle.”
Someone greeted the older couple, and they turned away without replying.
“Did she know about Lillie?” Beret whispered to Mick.
He shrugged. “According to the note, it seems likely. You mustn’t conclude anything from their manner. They’re stiff-necked with everyone.” Then he added in a low voice, “Pity you didn’t bring the note with you. It would liven up the party.”
Despite herself, Beret laughed, and she was happy Mick was there. “Why didn’t you tell me the Summerses were your relations?”
“Our mothers are sisters, although Ma doesn’t put on airs like my aunt. I keep my family to myself. It doesn’t sit well with my fellow officers that my father has money. They assume I was promoted to detective because of my connections.”
“And were you?”
Mick looked startled, then laughed. “I’d say it made it harder. I had to prove myself to be one of the boys. That’s why I slip into the brogue sometimes, me darlin’. My father’s never given up the accent.”
“And will I have the pleasure of meeting him?”
“Not tonight.”
She turned serious then and asked Mick if it were proper that he had interviewed his own uncle and cousin as suspects in a murder investigation.
“I suppose it’s for that very reason I didn’t tell you who they were. But who else could talk to them? The chief plays poker with Uncle Evan every week, and my uncle would intimidate the other officers. I think myself to be the only one to stand up to him.” He leaned in close and added in a low voice, “You see, I despise the old man as a hypocrite and a philanderer. It’d be no skin off my nose to arrest him.”
Beret smiled at the thought of exposing the aging adulterer at the party, and Mick asked, “What are you thinking?”
“That I despise him, too.”
“Enough to expose him?”
“No, although it would serve him right, I would not take that course. It would be awkward for my aunt and uncle. Would you?”
Mick shook his head. “It would hurt too many others. Caro, for instance.”
At that, Caroline Decker approached them, confiding, “Now that you have been taken up by the most disreputable of our guests—my cousin Michael—I shall rescue you and introduce you to someone more worthy of you. Come.” She turned to her cousin. “Although I can understand it, you must avoid the temptation to monopolize her, Mick.”
As the two women walked away, Caro confided, “I shouldn’t admit it to you—Mick would give me a drubbing—but he inquired whether you were coming, then begged an invitation.”
Beret, pleased, felt her cheeks redden but didn’t reply. She had liked bantering with Mick and wished Caroline hadn’t taken her away. She hoped that he would be seated next to her at dinner. She looked around at the number of guests and said she’d thought this was to have been a small dinner.
Caro patted her hand and admitted she had deceived Beret as well as the Stantons. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come, nor your aunt and uncle, and I do love them. They need to get about after the tragedy you all have suffered. Appearances matter, you know, especially in politics. Perhaps I should say even in politics, because some of the most villainous of men are appointed to office. Now who would you like to meet?”
Beret was about to leave the introductions up to Caroline, but
then she said, “Your brother. Mick has told me he was a friend of my sister’s.”
Caro stopped and studied Beret a moment, her smile giving way. “Surely he told you, rather, that Joey was in love with Lillie, that he visited her at that place on Holladay Street,” she said frankly. Before Beret could reply, Caro added, “Oh yes, I know all about that. It might even have been Joey who took her there. He does not always exercise the best judgment.”
Beret decided to be as honest as Caro. “That’s exactly why I want to meet him, because he was an intimate of Lillie’s. When she lived with me, she was an innocent girl…” Beret’s voice trailed off, because she knew what she had said was not true.
“She was no innocent, Beret. Any of us here can tell you that. She was wanton, and she was a schemer. That’s not to say I didn’t like her. I did. She was funny and fresh in a society that has gotten dull. I was delighted when she came. We all were. But she did not learn her ways from my brother or anyone else in Denver. I wonder you never saw her for what she was.” Caro sighed. “But then, who among us clearly sees the ones we love?” She took a step forward. “I ask you to forgive me for being cruel. Let’s speak of it no more. My brother is on the porch if you still want to meet him.”
Caro led Beret through French doors to what was more a long narrow balcony than a porch, with a tile floor and a railing of iron tracery. She made the introductions and left Beret alone with Joey.
“I am Lillie’s sister,” Beret said bluntly.
“I know that. She talked of you.”
“And with little affection, I suspect.”
“Yes, although she admired you once. But she felt you had been unfair. She told me the circumstances of her leaving, and I have to agree you did not treat her well.”
“You know only what Lillie told you.”
“Then what do you say?”
“I say it is none of your business.” She paused to gain control of her temper. “We have not got off to a good start.”
Fallen Women Page 23
