“How long ago did this happen?” I inquired.
“A few years back. Two or three, I believe.” Will eyed me carefully. “Why do you ask?”
I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “He and my father have a lot in common. They both lost young wives. I wonder if Father sees himself in Mr. Lloyd.”
“Your father never remarried. I wonder if his protege shares that ambition?” He elbowed me in jest.
The smile I shot him wobbled. A very secret part of me hoped very much that Cal Lloyd did not want to live out his remaining years as a widower.
Chapter Nine
Over the next few days, I lectured myself sternly on the topic of Mr. Calvin Lloyd. I pointed out his flaws. I reminded myself that I had no desire to marry a policeman like my father who was undependable and distracted by work. I tried to convince myself that Cal surely had no romantic interest in me. My lectures were well thought out and argued beautifully. In fact, they were so good that I behaved as though I had never noticed just how attractive Cal was. My heart, however, was not so easy to persuade. It swooned every time the detective entered the room. My face colored no matter how uninterested I acted. In short, I was in a hopeless muddle where that man was concerned.
It didn’t help to have Will teasing me no matter how often I insisted that I wasn’t interested in Cal. I wanted to believe that he was only ribbing me because he enjoyed it and not because I was giving off subtle signs of my unavoidable attraction to the man. My only defense was to make pointed comments about Paula Dennis’ interest in him. Thankfully, that topic was usually enough to silence Will.
On the following Monday afternoon, I was walking to the Dennis’ house for afternoon tea and replaying the latest comments from Will. He’d gone on and on about the hovel Cal and I could live in if we were married. This was enormously funny to Will and I grew annoyed at his jests. My friend seemed to have forgotten both the fortune I stood to inherit as well as the deteriorating state of his own home. I was growing more tempted by the second to cut him down to size by pointing out his own lack of funds, though I knew such a comment would damage our friendship irreparably.
“You could sleep in one of the cells in the prison if you had to. It wouldn’t be very private, but you wouldn’t have to spend much on housekeeping.” he threw back his head and roared.
I pursed my lips and waited for him to calm down. Will was a good friend except when he got in these moods. He seemed almost determined to push me away with his thoughtlessness. I was learning that when his wit grew acerbic, it was best for me to leave him alone and return after he’d sweetened considerably.
“I must go and dress. I’m having tea with Miss Dennis. Would you like to come along? I’m sure she’d be thrilled to see you.” I batted my eyes at him.
He sobered instantly, as I knew he would. Nothing silenced Will as thoroughly as the topic of Paula Dennis and her obvious adoration of him. He made a hasty good bye and an almost-as-hasty retreat.
I was especially grateful for the invitation for tea as I watched him go, feeling as though I’d been rescued from Will. Paula was still the only person who asked me to call, even after my being in town several weeks. I was always glad to visit her, though her mother sometimes joined us, putting a damper on the afternoon. Today, though, I would be glad to see Mrs. Dennis if it put a stop to Will’s cruel jokes.
It was with great relief that I learned that Mrs. Dennis had a headache and would not be joining us. Paula and I settled at a table in her family’s back garden. The table was well shaded by a leafy maple and we had a lovely view of the gardens and back of the house.
As with everything at the Dennis’ house, the tea and gardens showed a great deal of effort. The flowers and shrubs were perfectly shaped and weeded. The tea was elaborate and included more varieties of cakes and sandwiches than two girls could possibly want. Even Paula herself was too dressy for an afternoon at home. It was clear that Mrs. Dennis was a stickler for details and expected only the very best of her household staff. I wondered absently how this had affected Flora.
My heart went out to Paula who was trying so hard to be a gracious hostess when it was clear that she was terribly upset. Her smiles flashed bright but disappeared almost instantly. She asked thoughtful questions, but then struggled to keep her attention on my answers.
Finally, I took pity on her. “What’s wrong, Paula? I can tell you have something troubling on your mind.”
“The police were here, asking more questions,” she smiled shakily. “It upsets Mother.”
“Why does it upset her so?” I pressed.
Paula played with the edge of her napkin as she made up her mind whether or not to trust me. Finally she sighed and looked away, her eyes filling with tears. “The police asked us if we thought it was possible that either Karl or Father had been involved with Flora in some sort of inappropriate way.”
I nodded, understanding blooming. Of course, I’d speculated the exact same question, but now, facing Paula, I felt just how infuriating and humiliating such questions would be. If someone had accused my father of fraternizing with the help, I would have been mortified.
My hostess wiped her eyes and said, “Why would they ask such a thing? Surely, there’s no evidence that either of them had such a relationship with a housemaid.” Paula’s expression was one of utter confusion. “Mother has had a headache ever since and hasn’t been down to supper in two days. I’m afraid that the police’s questions have done something to her. Do you think it’s because they discovered something?”
The tears spilled over her cheeks again and I put my hand on hers. “Calm down. The police have to ask questions like that. They’re trying to find a motive for killing Flora.”
“I don’t think that being in a relationship with her would be a reason to kill her,” Paula sniffled, “even if there was such a relationship.”
“If she was with child, the father might want her dead,” I said gently.
Paula dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “I can’t imagine Father having a dalliance with a maid. For one thing, Mother would skin him alive.” Her eyes grew wide. “You don’t think that Mother killed Flora, do you?”
“No, I don’t. Remember, you were playing cards with your mother when Flora was stabbed. Neither of you left the room and came back covered in blood, did you?” I tried to tease Paula out of her worry.
She shook her head with a hint of a smile on her lips. “We were together until we heard about the murder.”
“There, then you know your mother is innocent. Your housekeeper told me that she saw your father smoking his pipe in the library just a few minutes before Flora’s death. The police believe he’s innocent, too.”
The crease between Paula’s eyes relaxed a little. “I didn’t think that Father could have been involved with Flora. He just isn’t the sort of man to do that. He’s too busy with his books and newspaper and pipe to even notice whether or not the maids are pretty.”
I chuckled. “My father is the same way. His eyes are on the food coming out of the kitchen, not on the person carrying it.”
Paula laughed and dabbed at her eyes again. She filled our cups and we added sugar and lemon. Her hand froze with the lemon tongs dangling over her cup. “What about Karl? What’s his alibi?”
I almost choked on my tea. I coughed delicately and put my cup back with excessive care before finally dragging my eyes to hers. “Karl doesn’t have an alibi for the time of the murder.”
She dropped the lemon into her cup with a plunk. “Does that mean that the police suspect Karl? He can’t be the killer!”
“Why not?” I raised an eyebrow, hoping for some evidence I could give to Cal.
“He just can’t be,” Paula cried wildly. “Karl isn’t the sort of man who has affairs with housemaids and then stabs them. He enjoys balancing account books and gets lost wandering in the garden. When we were children, I would beg him to play dolls with me and he would indulge me. Does that sound like a killer to you
?”
“No,” I admitted. “It doesn’t.”
“You must help clear Karl’s name,” Paula leaned forward intently. “If the police suspect him, you must prove that he didn’t do it.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “I’ll try to uncover the truth, Paula, but I won’t mislead the police. If I learn something that incriminates Karl, I will have to tell my father.”
Paula leaned back in relief. “Trust me, there’s nothing to find. Karl isn’t a killer.”
Her confidence swayed my heart, though my head was more logical. She wouldn’t be the first sister to put mistaken confidence in her brother’s innocence. I prayed that I wouldn’t learn something incriminating about Karl.
***
My conversation with Paula followed me throughout the rest of my day. I hoped that she was right about her brother, but I didn’t know anything one way or another. Thinking of how devastated she would be if it turned out that Karl was the killer made me feel sick. The Dennis family would never be the same. Mrs. Dennis was already spending most of her time in her bedroom and the dark circles under Paula’s eyes gave testimony to her own worry.
I was, therefore, even more grateful that Will had invited me to a gathering of young people. For the first time, I wanted to get my mind off the mystery of Flora’s death. I wanted to forget about Cal Lloyd. I wanted to stop worrying about Paula. Meeting new people was always fun.
I hadn’t been to many such parties before, but the other girls at the finishing school had told me about them. They were less formal than supper parties. There would be music, dancing, and games. It was just what I needed.
Therefore, I selected a dress that was festive without being fussy. The skirt had three layers of ruffles at the hem bordered by curling braid. The braid was also at the cuffs and around the yoke. The collar was pleated in a lighter blue than the rest of the organdy gown. The dress was at least a year old and so was not at the height of fashion, though it was still very attractive. I was still learning how to navigate the social circles in Brinkman and didn’t want to turn off any of my possible new friends by making them feel bad about their own dresses.
Will arrived and we set off to the home of Hugh Tierney, the son of a local businessman. The Tierneys were old money and Hugh and Will had gone to school together. I was treated to further tales of how the pair caused mayhem in their various classes and I had a moment’s pang of concern that this party might not be what I had envisioned.
“Does Hugh often have parties?” I tried to sound nonchalant.
“Whenever his parents are visiting their family out of town, Hugh invites the gang over for a good time.” Will’s smile of anticipation filled me with dread.
My tall friend launched another wild story and I wrestled with myself. Should I feign illness and return home? I had no wish to be a part of a wild rumpus. On the other hand, I didn’t want to make Will believe that I was afraid of a good time. There might be some young people who would sip punch and carry on good conversations. Yes, a few folks might act foolishly, but that didn’t mean that everyone would, did it?
In the end, my longing to make new friends and not upset Will won out over my concerns. I even managed to put on a moderately cheerful face and I don’t believe that my friend suspected my qualms. We arrived at the Tierney’s house to find the party in full swing. The Victrola was playing the newest records and a few couples were dancing raucously in the parlor with all the furniture pushed back and the rug rolled up. The drinks were flowing freely from the dining room and I was immediately sure that there was something harder than fruit juice in the crystal punch bowl.
Will sailed through the throng, tossing friendly greetings around him like confetti. Half of the things he said sounded like a code to me, since I wasn’t in on the joke. Still, almost everything he said produced raucous laughter and I smiled weakly, feeling a complete outsider.
He stopped when he reached a laughing group of young people who flopped around on the furniture on the back veranda. It was a lovely night and light from inside the house streamed out through open windows and doors, mingling with the full moon and twinkling stars above.
“Hey, kids!” Will called. “This is my friend Rose Lunceford. She’s new to town, so don’t scare her off too soon!”
The group laughed and I made a round of introductions, shaking hands with almost a dozen boys and girls.
“I love your dress,” chirped a lively blond wearing a rose-colored georgette. “Such a pretty color.”
“Did you get it in Chicago?” asked a raven-haired girl by the name of Helen.
“No, it came from St. Louis,” I said with a friendly smile. “Where are the best places to buy dresses in Chicago? I’ve never been.”
“You haven’t?!” exclaimed the blond. “Mother takes my sisters and me up once a year. There are so many divine shops. We like Lord’s best, though.”
“Lord’s?” laughed Helen. “Dot, only old ladies go to Lord’s!”
Dot’s face grew sour for a moment. A cat fight seemed inevitable, and I searched my mind for a way to smooth things over and lighten the mood.
“Did you get the dress you’re wearing there?” I posited lightly.
“Yes,” Dot’s voice was wary.
“Well, it’s beautiful,” I smiled. I hoped I looked friendly and not desperate. “If that’s what the old ladies are wearing these days, they’re far more fashionable than the old biddies in St. Louis. You’ll have to tell me where to find Lord’s.”
My comment seemed to please both Helen and Dot and soon we were chatting about the summer events that the girls insisted I attend with them.
From there, I spoke with a small cluster of kids about the first Chronicle-Telegraph Cup series of baseball. The boys were divided between liking the Pittsburgh Miners and the Brooklyn Superbas. They discussed the likelihood of each team winning at great length until finally the girls began our own discussion of why boys were so devoted to baseball.
“It’s the greatest!” a boy named Pete declared, butting his way in. “I’ve been to West Side Grounds to watch the Cubs play a dozen times.”
The other girls and I exchanged an eye roll at this, failing to be convinced by Pete’s argument. Soon after, the group went in search of something to drink and it didn’t take long before the conversations around me grew louder and more outrageous as cup after cup of punch was swallowed.
Will found me again and leaned close, “If they get too loaded, we’ll head home, all right?”
I looked up and gave him a grateful smile, so glad that he understood how I felt. I wanted to have a good time, but drunken idiots rarely improved any situation.
“Looks like Fitzwilliam finally has a fish on the hook,” Pete called from across the veranda.
My face colored as all eyes swung to us. I read curious speculation on many faces. They all assumed that I was Will’s girl or that he was hoping I would be. Did they know about the money I stood to inherit? Worst of all, was that really what Will was doing?
The moment I looked up and saw a sheepish grin on his face, I assumed the worst. With a huff, I turned on my heel and walked back into the house.
Chapter Ten
“Rose! Rose, stop will you?”
I ignored Will as he hollered behind me. It wasn’t until he got a hand on my elbow that I slowed. The sound of the party behind us was quieter out here on the front drive than it had been inside the house. Thankfully, there were no witnesses but the moon and the crickets to hear us.
“Is that your plan?” I began without preamble, refusing to look at him. “Are you hoping to marry me for my money?”
I heard him gasp at my forwardness. Without turning, I knew he was shoving his hands into his pants pockets and rocking back on his heels. I expected his protests that he’d never entertained such a thought.
“As far as ideas go, it’s not a bad one,” he admitted. When I turned and speared him with my eyes, Will threw up his hands in defense. “Think about it,
Rose. We get along well and we like each other. That’s a lot more than many married couples can say.”
My hands found my hips and I turned to him, frowning. “Is that why you’ve been spending time with me, Will? Are you hoping that you’ll convince me to marry you? Am I nothing more than a plot to save your family from ruin?”
His eyes grew wide. “No, of course not. I spend time with you, Rose, because I like spending time with you. I swear!”
“Then why did the group back there seem to think you were interested in my money?” I pointed a finger toward the house.
“Look, I won’t pretend that your money wouldn’t help my family,” he shrugged uncomfortably. “It would be a tremendous help, in fact. Everyone knows that. I can’t help it that they know both of our financial situations. But, just because they think that’s why I spend time with you doesn’t mean that they know the truth.”
It was a fair point. I knew that people liked to talk. Few topics interested them more than matchmaking. A new girl in town who stood to inherit a great deal of money would be talked about no matter what fellow she spent time with. It was only natural that they would speculate about me and Will since we’d been all over town together. My flaring temper began to cool.
“I’m not interested in getting married any time soon,” he said placatingly. “I don’t want to settle down for a long time to come. What do you say that if we both are getting older and don’t have any better options, that we consider joining forces? Only if we’re both really desperate, of course.”
I knew he was partly serious and partly joking and I appreciated it. He wasn’t making fun of me, but still managed to laugh at the situation in general. I smiled and reflected that Will was the sort of friend I needed. My earlier anger evaporated and I took his arm, allowing him to steer me back into the party.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked, having to lean down to holler into my ear to be heard as we drew close to the house.
Murder of the Mysterious Maid Page 8
