In truth, I could have made my way around the room to a spot where I might be more visible and more obviously available. I was tired, but I wasn’t so tired that I didn’t want to dance at all. If you’d been there, you wouldn’t have missed the way that my eyes strayed to where Cal sat, far too engaged in my father’s conversations to notice me.
“Cal, ask my daughter to dance,” Father barked, lurching me out of my disappointment. “I don’t want her to be a wallflower.”
My face colored. Having Cal ask me to dance of his own volition would have been delightful. Having him do it because my father pointed out my inadequacies was humiliating.
Dutifully, Cal got to his feet and held out a hand to me. I gritted my teeth and put my hand in his. He led me to the edge of the floor and then placed a hand at my waist and twirled me off into the fray. For a full minute, my face was too red for me to bear meeting his eyes.
Finally, he noticed my quiet. “What’s wrong, Miss Lunceford? Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine,” I snapped.
Cal’s head bobbed backwards, trying to escape the bite in my voice.
I pursed my lips, trying to swallow my anger and confessed, “I’m embarrassed that Father made you dance with me when you so obviously weren’t interested.” I cringed at the sharpness that was still in my words.
“I don’t like dancing with another fellow’s girl,” he answered calmly.
I blinked up at him, completely at sea. “What do you mean? Whose girl am I?”
“Will Edwards’, of course,” Cal said it as though I was simple for not knowing it.
I laughed a bit rudely. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Will and I are nothing more than good friends.” I hid my conflicting feelings about the man I’d considered a dear friend only a few days before.
Cal raised an eyebrow skeptically.
“We are,” I insisted, annoyance rising yet again as an attempt to cover my concern. “Why do you think otherwise?”
“He didn’t like you and I were talking when we were at the station. He was eager to get you away from me.” Cal’s superior look made me even angrier.
“I don’t think of Will romantically,” I spluttered. “He’d make a terrible husband, for one thing. Besides, he’s not the sort of man I’d ever think of marrying.” And, he might be a thief.
“Don’t set your sights on me,” Cal announced plainly. “I won’t ever marry again. You’ll just be wasting your time on a fellow like me.”
I’m sure my eyes were the size of dinner plates as all thoughts of Will evaporated. My mouth fell open and I stared at him in a mix of horror and shock. Had Cal been reading my thoughts? Did he know how often I admired him? And, what nerve he had to assume that I’d be interested in him! Never mind that I was, it was so humiliating that he might have noticed!
“It isn’t that you’re not a nice enough girl, Miss Lunceford, but I lost my wife when I was young. I won’t ever marry again.” He said it so plainly that there was no room for argument, even if I could have thought of one.
“I don’t know why you think you need to say such a thing to me. I’ve never given you any reason to imagine I might be interested in forming some sort of attachment to you. You work with my father, for goodness’ sake.” It was a pathetic thing to say, but my brain was scrambling to find purchase and failing completely.
“You haven’t given me a reason.” Was it my imagination, or were Cal’s ears turning pink? “Since we spend so much time together, I wanted to be clear. It would be unfortunate for you to develop romantic ideas about me.”
I snorted, my ego wounded and my most secret hopes crushed. “Don’t worry yourself on that score, Mr. Lloyd. I will do everything in my power to prevent the remotest of romantic ideas about you to grow.” My voice dripped with sarcasm and I’m sure that Cal felt each drop keenly.
“Don’t be sore,” he said, his face screwed up irritably. “I wanted to make sure we understood each other, that’s all. I meant no insult.”
The song was coming to an end, none too soon. The damage was done and any amiability that had developed between us was left battered and far behind. I was too attracted to Cal and now I had learned that he did not return the feeling. No doubt he saw me as a little girl, the daughter of a colleague. All my attempts to impress him with my powers of investigation reared up and slapped me across the face. Though we’d already said enough, I had to put in a final barb.
“Don’t worry, I’m not insulted.” What a liar I was! “I only pity the woman who does fancy herself in love with you. What a great disappointment you’ll be to her.”
I pulled myself from his arms and turned to the musicians, clapping as though I’d enjoyed their playing. In reality, it was now the song I hated most in all the world. Another young man asked me to dance and I gladly took his arm, whirling off into the next dance. It took all my willpower not to look back to see if Cal had watched me leave him.
The rest of the evening was spent moving from dance partner to dance partner. I made every attempt to laugh and chatter, flirt and tease. I put aside my bruised heart. Like an actress in a play, I pretended to be a dazzling socialite, the belle of the ball. If Cal was watching and regretting his words, so be it. He wouldn’t know how terribly I regretted mine.
It wasn’t until I was undressed, un-coiffed, and in bed that I gave in and had a good cry. I had to bury all my silly dreams about Cal Lloyd. Even though I’d hardly even dared to give them much play time, they’d blossomed. Now I had to rip them up and throw them onto the fire until they were nothing but crumbling ashes.
Chapter Thirteen
Will couldn’t sit still. I was hesitant to be alone with him anymore. That, in addition to his need for constant motion, was making me jumpy. When he sat, his leg jiggled. When he stood, he had to pace, stopping to touch every knickknack on the mantle or side table he passed. No topic of conversation kept his interest for long. I omitted the details of my dance with Cal, in part because it was still raw and painful, and in part because I didn’t like what he’d said about me and Will.
“I’m bored,” he finally drawled, throwing himself down on the settee. “Is there nothing interesting to do? I thought being the daughter of the chief of police would mean that you had a steady stream of dangerous activities for us to partake in.”
I bristled, but calmed when I saw that he was teasing.
“Are there really no new developments in the Flora Dobson case? Are we at a dead end?”
“Really, Will, we aren’t at a dead end because we aren’t investigating. What the police are up to, I can’t begin to guess.” The disdain in my voice for the police was positively poisonous.
Will sat up quickly. “But your father is the chief and the head detective comes to dinner here three times a week. You must know something.”
He wasn’t going to let it go. Was this a subtle hint that I might know more about the burglaries than I let on? “They are trying to find out what happened to her in the past. If we knew where she worked before or where she stayed, we might be able to find someone else who would want her dead. But the police don’t even know if she was married or not.”
“Have they searched her room at the Dennises?” Will snapped his fingers at me. “I’ll bet there’s a clue there.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course the police searched her room. It would have been one of the very first things that they did when they began the investigation.”
Will sagged. “We could go back and interview the maids again. Maybe one of them knows something she doesn’t even realize she knows.”
Feeling crotchety and a little mean I said, “You’re eager to get back to Miss Dennis’ house.”
“Ha ha,” Will said dryly. “What I’m eager for is some sort of excitement. There’s nothing else to do around here, Rose. It won’t hurt for us to go and ask. Please,” he wheedled.
I chewed my lip and examined him from under lowered lashes. The question of whether or not Will
was involved with the burglaries was driving me mad.
“Will, can I ask you something?” I hedged, calculating the danger of confronting him outright.
“Sure, you can ask me anything you like.” His voice was airy.
I licked my lips. “I was thinking about the burglaries the other day and I noticed something odd.” I watched him carefully, gauging his reaction.
His eyes held anticipation and nothing more.
“I was thinking about the sort of person who would be capable of breaking in to so many homes when the houses were empty. It would take someone who was very close to the families or else…” I paused. My heart was pounding and my palms sweating. “Or else, the thief could be someone who grew up here and knows everything about the town.”
He nodded as though this argument made sense. Suddenly, he sat up straight and pointed a finger at me. “Are you suggesting that I might be one of the gang of thieves? Are you really saying that, Rose?”
I blinked my eyes rapidly and stammered, “I don’t know. It makes sense.”
“No it doesn’t,” he cried.
“Just hear me out,” I pleaded. “The thieves know the habits and schedules of all the wealthy families in town. They know how to get in and out quietly without being seen. They know which valuables to take and which are worthless.”
He frowned and bitterness stole over him. “The thief would need the money, too. Don’t deny it. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I don’t want it to be you. I’ve been trying not to think about it, Will, but I can’t. I have to know for certain that you’re not in the gang.” I was pacing now and stood before him, arms wrapped around myself.
“Have you told Cal of your suspicions?” His voice was hollow and the fear in my stomach grew sharper.
“No, of course not.” Our recent argument put more venom in my words than they deserved.
“And you have no real evidence.” He chuckled morosely. “I don’t know what I can say that will convince you I’m not involved.”
I shrugged feeling miserable. “Maybe if you have an alibi for the times the burglaries happened.” But, even as I said it, I knew it wouldn’t be enough. If he was the brains behind the operation, Will could have sent the others to do the jobs while he made sure he was busy elsewhere.
And, from the look on his face, he spotted this problem, too. “I’m not a thief. I’m a rogue and a troublemaker, but I don’t steal. I give you my word, I’m not the thief.”
I searched his eyes for the merest hint of falsehood and saw nothing but earnestness. I wanted to believe him so badly. What if I stopped fretting about it and took him at his word only to learn that I’d been fooled? It would be so humiliating.
That thought stopped me short. Did I really care more for what other people thought of me than being friends with Will? He was a bit of an idiot at times and didn’t know when to stop teasing me, but we enjoyed each other’s company tremendously.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I’d never seen anything in Will’s behavior to support the idea that he was part of the gang. He was my friend. Perhaps I was being a fool, but I opened my eyes and nodded at him.
“All right. I believe you.” I stuck out my hand and, after the tiniest pause, Will shook it.
“Let’s go to the Dennises,” he urged.
It was a very quiet Saturday afternoon. The weather was growing hotter by the day, which meant that walks at this hour were most unpleasant. The garden was miserable, even in the shade. No one in her right mind would agree to go for a walk. Yet, both of us were eager to leave the uncomfortable scene behind us.
“All right, let me get my hat.”
Which was how we found ourselves walking to the Dennis’ house. Our conversation wasn’t as easy as it usually was. The words felt forced and we were more polite than we usually were. Still, I felt better than I had in a long time and hoped that we’d be able to get back to our usual friendly banter soon.
Paula was quite surprised to see us when we were shown into the parlor. “How lovely! Shall I order tea?”
“We’d like to speak with the maid who shared a room with Flora,” I said quickly. “Will thinks that she might know something about where Flora came from before. She might not realize she knows it or that it’s important.”
“How clever,” Paula batted her eyelashes at Will. “I’ll ask Harrison to take you, and Mr. Edwards and I will wait here.”
Will’s smile looked slightly pained and I had to hide a smile. It had been his idea after all. He had no one to blame but himself. The look he gave me was very grateful and I understood how he was feeling.
Gloria was dusting and wasn’t too happy to have to stop. Still, she knew better than to complain in front of a guest of the family.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said quickly. “We were wondering if you might know something about where Flora lived or worked before coming here. I know she wasn’t very friendly. Might you have seen something or heard something that might give us a clue as to where she lived before?”
The girl fiddled with the feather duster as she considered this. “She never said anything. I couldn’t figure out if she was from Chicago or somewhere else. She never told us why she came to Brinkman of all places.”
My hopes sagged. “Did the police search your room?” I knew the answer, but couldn’t think of anything else to ask.
Gloria nodded. “They took her things away, but I don’t think they learned anything.”
“Would you show it to me? I doubt I’ll find a clue the police missed, but I’ll feel better if I try.”
She agreed grudgingly. I followed her down the hall to the servants’ stairs and we climbed to the third floor. The air up here was close and stuffy and a good ten degrees hotter than downstairs. The hall was narrow and the carpet and wallpaper worn, though spotlessly clean. There were three bedrooms and Gloria led me to the one farthest down the hall.
“I got this one because I came last. Annie and Mary have worked here for almost a year, so they got the better room. I’ve only been here three months.” She explained with a shrug.
The room was small with two narrow beds, an old wardrobe, and a rickety desk. There weren’t many hiding places. I pulled the bed out from the wall and examined the cracks in the floor. Gloria helped me lift the mattress. The wardrobe had no room for a hidden compartment and the desk’s single drawer held only three pencils and plenty of dust.
I was defeated. This visit had produced no new clues. My hand rubbed at the back of my neck and my eyes swept the room one last time. On the table between the beds was a candle in a brass holder and a book of matches with a pretty cover. I lifted the book of matches without really thinking about it. The black script on a red background announced that they were from the Grand Hotel in Chicago.
My brow furrowed and my heartbeat sped up. Had Gloria been to this hotel? It seemed highly unlikely. Anyone might have given them to her, but I hoped that they were the clue we so desperately needed.
“Where did you get these?” I asked. “They’re pretty.”
“They’re from a fancy hotel in the city,” Gloria said with pride.
“Yes, but who gave them to you? Did you go yourself?”
“No, I’ve never been to Chicago,” she laughed. “Can you imagine the Grand Hotel letting a girl like me in to stay? They probably charge more money than I make in a month for just one night’s stay.”
I wanted to grab her and shake her until she told me what I wanted to know. “Gloria, who gave them to you?” I repeated slowly.
“They were Flora’s,” she said flippantly. “We used the last of my matches and she had this book in her bag. I thought they were quite fancy and asked where she got them, but she wouldn’t say. I don’t think she ever stayed there.”
Nor did I, but she might have worked there. It wasn’t a strong lead. There was every chance that it would produce nothing. Still, it was the first tie we had to link Flora Dobson anywhere. I thanked
Gloria for her help and hurried back downstairs, bursting with the news.
“Shouldn’t you tell the police?” Paula asked demurely as she poured tea into our china cups.
Will and I exchanged a look. I knew that he didn’t want to go to the police because he wanted an adventure. There was no doubt in my mind that he would suggest we go to the Grand Hotel ourselves to investigate. This time, I was inclined to agree with him, though my motives were quite different. It was a shaky link at best and I doubted that the police would bother with it. Besides, speaking with Cal Lloyd was the last thing I wanted to do.
“It’s possible they won’t think it’s worth their time,” I kept my voice steady as I blew on my steaming cup. I didn’t want my tiff with Cal to affect my neutral tone.
“It’s got to turn something up. It’s got to.” Will beamed at us and bit into a sandwich with gusto.
After talking it over, we decided to go to Chicago the next day. We could take the early train, spend the day asking questions, and return before supper. The ride was no more than an hour in each direction even with a number of stops at other small towns. People from Brinkman took such day trips frequently and so it was simple to convince Father that we were going to do some shopping. He insisted we attend church first, which delayed our departure a bit, but we were able to leave directly after the service.
I was very glad to be traveling with Will who knew Chicago well. His family had visited the Windy City more times than he could count. Not only did he know exactly how to get to the Grand Hotel, he knew which mode of transportation would be best. St. Louis was a big city with more than half a million souls. Chicago had more than four times that population and spread out all along the shores of Lake Michigan. We’d hardly stepped off the train before I felt completely out of my element.
Will hailed us a hansom cab and we settled ourselves in for the ride. I was glad to have a good view as we rode along, gaping at everything along the way. The train station had been in a more industrial part of town. The warehouses changed to apartment buildings and then into townhouses. When the buildings became department stores and elegant restaurants, I knew we were getting close to our destination.
Murder of the Mysterious Maid Page 11
