I looked into the front room where the furniture had been pushed against the walls and the rugs rolled back. The dancing was deteriorating from the orderly foxtrot and waltz to a stumbling series of steps that had no name. A few couples were revolving in unsteady circles, seeming to prop each other up more than anything. I’d never danced like this and didn’t want to start now.
“I can’t believe he’s here,” Will’s sharp voice caught me off guard.
“Who?” I asked, blinking around the room.
“Karl Dennis.”
My mouth dropped and I followed Will’s discreet pointing to where a couple danced. It was my first look at the potential murderer and I analyzed him critically. Karl had his mother’s coloring and still managed to favor his sister. The soppy look on his face as he mooned over his dance partner was most certainly reminiscent of the way Paula looked at Will.
“Who’s he dancing with?” I stood on tiptoes, trying to see the girl’s face.
“I’m not sure,” Will’s head bobbed about. The couple turned finally and he recognized her. “That’s Florence Reid. Her father owns the cobbler shop in town.”
Miss Reid’s dress was not fashionable. It had the look of a gown that had been remade from another dress. Perhaps it had been her mother’s or was even a hand-me-down from a cousin. It was pretty enough and clearly her best, but the girls on the veranda would have known right away that it wasn’t new and would have turned up their noses at her.
The way the girl gazed up into Karl’s eyes with pure awe told me, from all the way across the room, that she was as enamored of him as he was of her. As Will led me back to the veranda, I wondered briefly if Miss Reid’s affection would survive learning that he might be a murderer. How would the poor girl bear learning that he had an affair with Flora Dobson? I hoped again that we would learn that such a thing had never happened.
We only remained at the party for another hour or so. The group was growing more rambunctious and the last thing I wanted was for the police to arrive. Having no experience with such a situation previously, I could only wonder if my father would be very upset to learn I’d been at such an event. Still, I didn’t want to risk it and was ready to leave when Will suggested it.
I went to bed that night with my mind on Karl Dennis rather than anything else I’d seen or heard that evening. It seemed unlikely that Karl had been in any sort of a relationship with Flora based on the way he was looking at Miss Reid. Unless he had moved on very quickly, he had clearly been wooing the cobbler’s daughter for some time. Was it possible that he’d had some sort of fling with Flora? Had she come to his house and found work in order to blackmail him? It all seemed unlikely, though I knew that stranger things had happened.
The next day passed quietly for me. Father was gone before I awoke. I passed the morning by going over the menu with our cook, helping the housekeeper to decide which of the family linens were worth repairing, and catching up on my correspondence. I took a long walk in the afternoon once I knew that I would have no visitors. Nellie helped me to dress for supper and, while I couldn’t have done it well without her, I still wished for a trained maid who could do the job more efficiently.
To my surprise, and secret delight, Father and Cal came into the house as I was descending the stairs. We settled ourselves around the table and Cal knocked me off my feet with his news.
“The coroner’s report came back on Flora Dobson,” he began.
Father didn’t look up as he cut his meat. “Did it turn up anything interesting?”
“She was expecting a child,” Cal said. His eyes flickered to mine.
I sat back, stunned.
“Really? How interesting,” Father’s hand froze, his fork partway to his mouth. “That changes things, doesn’t it?”
“We arrested Karl Dennis today,” Cal admitted.
“Good, good,” Father nodded.
“Why would you arrest Karl?” I spluttered. “She hadn’t been working at the Dennis’ long enough for Karl to have fathered her child.”
Father raised an eyebrow at my outburst. I never would have dreamed of speaking about such matters in the presence of two men, but there it was.
“Cal learned that the reference the girl gave was false,” Father speculated. “She might have been living in town for some time before she came to work for the Dennises. She might have had a relationship with the Dennis lad before she worked for them.”
“Of course, it’s possible, but is there evidence that such a relationship actually occurred?” I pointed my knife at Cal.
I suspected that he was too good of a detective to act in haste. Surely he had more than simple speculation to go on. Still, I truly doubted that Karl was the killer and I needed Cal to prove it to me.
He looked almost apologetic as he said, “We found a love letter to the girl in Karl’s room. It was dated the day before the murder. The letter made it quite clear that they had been in a relationship for some time. It referenced times that they had met secretly before and their plans for the future.”
I couldn’t believe it. After watching him with Miss Reid, I wouldn’t have imagined that he could have loved another woman. Was it all a ploy? Could Karl Dennis be some sort of playboy who wooed women for his own pleasure and dropped them when he grew tired of them? I had to admit that I knew very little about him. It was possible.
Knowing how upset Paula was sure to be, I visited her first thing the next day.
“Oh, Rose, it’s terrible!” She threw herself into my arms.
I was immediately glad that my father’s profession hadn’t made Paula blame me for her brother’s arrest. I was coming to consider her a good friend. We settled onto the immaculate furniture and Paula pulled her wrinkled handkerchief from her sleeve.
“The police are saying that Karl knew Flora from before she came to work here. They think that there was some sort of relationship between them.”
“You doubt that?” I probed gently. It was difficult to know if Paula’s belief in her brother’s innocence was due to loyalty or some real knowledge.
She shook her head adamantly. “Karl wasn’t a man about town. I doubt he’s ever had a girl of his own. He’s too serious. He’d rather be working in the office with Father than with a girl.”
My hope sank. Clearly, Paula didn’t know her brother as well as she thought. I’d seen him with Miss Reid and knew for a fact that he had a girl. “The police found a love letter to Flora in Karl’s things. Your housekeeper told me that he had taken to writing letters frequently when he arrived home from work.”
“It’s so unlike him,” Paula shivered. “I’m afraid that I’m wrong about him, Rose. What if he’s not at all the sort of brother I believe him to be? I can’t fathom that he is a killer, but he had secrets none of us knew. It’s awful!”
A knock at the door drew our attention and we watched as the butler went to open it. He entered the room sedately and announced that a Miss Florence Reid had arrived. From the look on Paula’s face, I saw instantly that she had no idea who Miss Reid was.
“She’s a friend of your brother’s,” I said gently.
“How do you know that?” Paula asked, clearly amazed that I knew something about her brother that she didn’t.
I explained about the party at Hugh Tierney’s the previous evening and that I had seen Karl and Miss Reid dancing. There was no more time to talk because Miss Reid entered the room. We introduced ourselves and shook hands. Paula had the presence of mind to insist we all sit, but then she sat in stunned silence, waiting for Miss Reid to explain her appearance.
“I learned this morning that Karl… Mr. Dennis, that is… had been arrested for the murder of your maid. I had to come and find out of if it was true.”
Miss Reid was clearly very distressed. Her eyes were red and her hat pinned on carelessly. She was the very picture of flustered concern and my heart went out to her.
“Yes, he was arrested for the murder of Flora Dobson,” I explained calmly.
“He didn
’t do it,” Miss Reid cried. “I know he didn’t do it!”
I exchanged a look with Paula. “How do you know that?” I pressed.
“He had no reason to kill her.” The girl was wringing her hands in distress. “Karl is the gentlest soul. He wouldn’t kill a fly!”
“How do you know my brother?” Paula asked imperiously, reminding me momentarily of her mother.
Miss Reid colored and her mouth worked as though she was debating whether or not to let out a great secret. “We met when he came to my father’s shop to have a pair of shoes fixed. We began to talk and he came back again and again.”
“When did you first meet?” I interjected.
“It was this past fall,” Miss Reid said, her face lighting at the memory. “We knew our families wouldn’t approve of our friendship, so we met in secret whenever we could and wrote each other letters almost every day. There was a place in the wall behind our shop where there’s a loose brick. Karl would put his letter there on the way to work in the morning and I would leave one for him to find on his way home in the evening.”
So, this was the recipient of the mysterious love letters. The housekeeper had noticed Karl writing and now we knew why. How had he written one to Flora Dobson, then? It was a mistake that I couldn’t understand. Did he have two girls on a string? Both Flora Dobson and….
I gasped and stood up.
“What is it?” Paula cried.
My eyelids fluttered as I ran over my theory. Yes, yes, it was possible. “I thought of something just now that might help. Of course, I could be wrong. Don’t get your hopes up.” I held up my hands to slow their excitement. “I must go to the police station right away and try to see if I’m right. I’ll come back as soon as I know anything.”
I rushed to the door, pinning my hat into place as I strode down the walkway. It took all my grandmother’s training to keep from running all the way to the station. If only I’d been a little girl again and free from my restrictive corset, I would have flown as fast as my feet could have carried me.
As it was, I burst through the door, ignored Floyd at the desk, and burst into my father’s office. I must have looked wild as I stood there, chest heaving and eyes too bright.
“Why, Rose, what are you doing here?” A hyena might have just come into the room, so completely taken aback was Father at my sudden appearance.
“I must see the letter that Karl Dennis wrote. I think I know for whom it was meant, but I must see it to be sure.” I was panting and gasping and sure that if Father refused my request I would fly across the desk and force him bodily to get it for me.
Thankfully, Cal appeared at that moment and quickly brought the letter from evidence. He handed it to me, his expression full of anticipation.
I grabbed it and my eyes found the salutation. I cried out in joy. “Ah ha! I thought so! This proves that Karl wasn’t writing to Flora Dobson!”
“Whatever are you talking about?” Father got up from his desk and came around to where I stood.
“This letter begins, ‘Dear Florrie.’ It’s only natural that you assumed it was for Flora Dobson, but I know for a fact that Karl had been writing love letters to a Miss Florence Reid since last year. The Florrie he’s talking to is Miss Reid.” I looked between the two, desperate for them to understand. “It isn’t Flora, it’s Florence!”
Cal caught on first. His eyes grew wide. “How do you know this?”
“I was visiting with Paula Dennis this morning and Miss Reid arrived. She told us that she’s been exchanging letters with Karl for months. I saw her at a get together a few nights ago. She was dancing with Karl Dennis and the two had eyes only for each other. Miss Reid told me that they had been writing letters secretly because they feared their parents’ displeasure. If you bring her in, I’m sure she would be willing to tell you the same thing,” I nodded vigorously, hoping that this explanation would make sense and spur them into action.
Father rubbed at his chin. “Why didn’t Karl tell us so when we found the letter?”
“Karl must have feared for her reputation,” I guessed. “They’d been meeting at parties without chaperons and exchanging letters. Perhaps he worried that his own parents would force them apart. Paula had no idea that her brother had any interest in any particular girl.”
Cal scratched at the back of his neck. “If they felt the need for so much secrecy, he might risk his own reputation to spare hers.”
I almost sank into the chair with relief. “Exactly.”
Father’s eyebrows were raised and he nodded slowly. “Good thinking, Rose. Cal, go and interview this girl and ask Karl about her. If their stories agree, we’ll let him go.”
“Nice work, Rose,” Cal said with a grin as he hurried out the door.
I returned to the Dennis’ house to give my report to Paula and Miss Reid. I doubt that my feet touched the ground the entire way.
Chapter Eleven
Paula and Miss Reid were so happy to hear the news that they both burst into tears. Paula threw herself into my arms, thanking me effusively. No sooner had she disentangled herself than Miss Reid took a turn hugging me. I couldn’t keep from laughing with delight. It felt wonderful to know that I had made a difference and truly helped someone in need. It didn’t matter that the police were likely to have unraveled the mystery at some point. I’d been the first to spot the truth and I was very pleased with myself.
Promising to return for tea the next day, I strode down the walkway, chest thrust out, ready to take on the world. I was almost halfway home when I started to think about what this meant for the case. If Karl Dennis wasn’t the killer, who was? My good mood deflated slightly as that thought dimmed the sunlight and quieted the birds a good deal.
By the time I arrived home, I was determined to help some more. There was no way that my brain would rest until the killer was caught. I hurried upstairs and dug out some stationery from the back of my writing kit. I had to search for a sharp pencil, but once I found one, I sat at the little writing desk in my room and closed my eyes. I took in four deep breaths, clearing my mind.
“Where do I begin?” I muttered. There was just so much to think about. So much had happened over the course of two weeks.
I wrote the word “facts” at the top of the page. I listed what we knew about Flora and her death. I listed everyone in the household and where they were at the time of her death. Next to these names, I added their alibis, then thought carefully and added possible motives. Karl had no alibi, but I made a note about his writing letters to Miss Reid and his lack of motive.
Sitting back, I looked over the paper. Everyone in the house had an alibi. No one had any real reason to kill Flora, as far as I knew. Even the news that Flora was expecting didn’t change that at all. She simply hadn’t been at the Dennises long enough for that to matter. Any man could have been the father. For that matter, anyone could have come into the house through the door near the laundry room and killed her. It was the time of day when most people were resting or otherwise occupied. No one would have noticed someone lurking around.
I tapped my pencil thoughtfully on the edge of the desk. The cook had said that Flora was in the habit of going to the laundry room before supper. The girl had been there long enough to know the movement of the household. She would have known when it was safe to meet someone.
Of course, this in and of itself was not suspicious. If Flora was meeting the father of her child, it would be nothing. Some young women did continue to work until they had children. Families didn’t always like to hire married women, so the girls often kept quiet about it. That could explain why Flora had given a false reference. Perhaps she feared that the Dennises wouldn’t want her since she’d been married and knew that her last employer would tell them. I could easily picture Mrs. Dennis turning up her nose at any little thing that she deemed unseemly or that might disrupt her carefully controlled house.
But, wouldn’t Flora’s husband have made himself known after her death? He would have come
forward and claimed her body for burial. He’d lost his wife and child. He would have made himself known long ago if he truly existed. Was it possible that Flora’s husband had killed her and left town? Or had she been escaping him when she came here? It wasn’t impossible to believe that she’d fled an abusive husband. That might explain her falsified references. But who had she been meeting in the laundry room daily, then?
I turned to the next page and titled this one “theories and questions.” I jotted down questions about a possible husband for Flora. Then I wrote notes about how to find answers to these questions. It would be important to find where the man was staying. Will’s friend who was searching boardinghouses might be able to help with that. I’d almost forgotten about him and made a note to ask Will how that line of questioning was going. It was possible that he'd forgotten and never even asked his friend to help us.
Forcing my mind back to my task, I set aside the idea that Flora was married. If she was unmarried and expecting a child, there were even more reasons why she’d be killed. The father of the child might be married. He might not want to marry her. He might want her to give the child to the foundlings’ home. She might be blackmailing him. There were too many possibilities.
I looked at my list and sighed. There was no way to guess what the situation was without further evidence. My only hope was to find the father and learn the truth.
Had I missed anything? I looked over my lists and felt disheartened. We had to find the father of Flora’s baby. We had to learn more about the girl. Both jobs were crucial and neither were things I could do on my own. I would never be allowed to search the boardinghouses or roam the public houses, asking for information about Flora. I would be stuck waiting for Cal or Will to report to me what their men had learned.
I sighed. Cal was so wrapped up in the burglaries that it was a wonder he had any time to put into investigating Flora’s death. It was awful to have to wait for him to turn up anything, though I understood that the burglaries were more urgent as they were ongoing. Flora’s death was tragic, but it was a single occurrence and no one else seemed to be in immediate danger. There were half a dozen burglaries, though, and didn’t seem to be stopping.
Murder of the Mysterious Maid Page 9
