“That’s a shame. Perhaps she destroyed the letters.”
“I suppose that’s a possibility, but I feel better for having looked at least. Now, we’ve taken enough of your time, so we’ll be on our way.”
He nodded. “Let me see you out and find a cab.”
As it happened, a cab was rolling down the street out front as we left the theater. Gilliam hailed it, and we waited for it to approach.
“May I assist you with your coat?” I felt it slide from my arm into his hands and snatched it back.
“No, thank you. I’m fine. A rather warm evening.” I willed myself not to shiver as I gave the driver my direction and allowed Gilliam to hand us into the cab. The door had barely closed behind us before we were off.
Hetty blew out a breath. “My word, I’ve never been so nervous.”
“You played your part well, I must say.”
She rewarded me with a beaming smile.
“Do be careful around that man, though. He has more charm than the average Englishman. Perhaps from living in France. In fact, you might want to send a note tomorrow morning to cancel.”
“Are you suspicious of him?”
“He was surprisingly willing to allow us to investigate. Willing enough to make me wonder if he expects us to make a hash of it and make things more difficult for the police. And he does have an insurance policy on her life.”
Hetty shook her head. “That’s not so very unusual among business partners, but you make a good point.”
I dug into my pocket and removed the letters. Far too dark to read them now, but at least I could put on my coat. I shimmied around, hunting for my other sleeve, until Hetty assisted me.
“I thought you were too warm?”
“That was for Mr. Gilliam’s sake. If he’d taken hold of my coat, he’d have felt the account book.”
“When did you become so cunning? I don’t know whether to be shocked or proud.”
* * *
It was very late when the cab dropped us off at my door, so I was surprised to find George waiting in my drawing room, sipping a glass of whiskey and reading the Times. Hetty claimed exhaustion and retired to her room, leaving the two of us alone for the first time in what felt like days but was actually just early this afternoon. Given all that had happened since then, I doubted this would be a romantic interlude.
I joined him on the sofa and turned to drop a kiss on his lips. “Bradmore’s done a bunk,” he said, his words more growling than conversational.
Yes. Well, romance would have to wait. “Are you sure? Were his rooms cleared out, or was he just not at home?”
“It turns out he has not been at home for weeks. Someone else lives there now and has no idea where Bradmore might have taken himself off to.”
“Yet he said Miss Teskey abandoned him.”
George raised his brows.
“He claimed he kept up a correspondence with her until she ceased to write. When he traveled to her former home, she’d moved on, and he couldn’t find her. It sounds as though he did the same thing. Did you look anywhere else for him?”
“I looked everywhere else for him.” He placed his glass on the table and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “As my search turned up nothing, I stopped at the Home Office, hoping to call in a favor—to no avail. Apparently, Bradmore did not inform his superiors of his change of residence. When I explained my problem, my contact offered to put me in touch with a gentleman who keeps a close eye on the Russians.”
I frowned. “What purpose would that serve?”
“Probably none. He ought to be able to tell me about Irena’s relationship with the Romanov family, though.” He shrugged. “I suppose there’s a remote possibility one of them might be tired of her antics or of supporting her. And at the moment, I’ll take all the information I can get. I put the meeting off for a couple of days, thinking Bradmore will turn up on his own before that.”
“Did you consider that he might be at his uncle’s estate in Hampshire?”
“I did, and toward finding out, I paid a visit to Lady Esther.”
“You poor dear.” Lady Esther was Bradmore’s aunt, and one of the most peevish women I’ve ever tried to avoid. “Did she know where he was?”
“No, but she gave me an interesting piece of news.” He tipped his head to look me in the eye. “Bradmore is not just hoping to marry. She believes he has already proposed marriage to—I’ll quote her here—a prominent young woman in society.”
“He really needed that divorce.” I shook my head. “This isn’t looking very good for him.”
“Yes, that’s my opinion, as well, but looking at the situation from Delaney’s perspective, it doesn’t look any better for either of us.”
“How so?”
“He only has our word that Bradmore was ever here, let alone that he was married to Irena.”
I gave the matter some thought. “He has our word and that of the servants, who will state that not only was Bradmore here, but he also called on Miss Teskey just before she ended up dead in my garden. Since the man has now vanished, that should be enough to make Delaney suspicious.”
“But until he finds Bradmore, it’s not enough to remove us from suspicion.” He picked up his glass and took another sip. “And speaking of suspicion, where did you and your aunt Hetty get off to? I thought you intended to stay home and sort through Irena’s belongings.”
“We did.” I gave his shoulder a nudge. “Your plan to keep us occupied and out of your way worked.” I told him about the key and the calling card I found in Miss Teskey’s coat pocket that had led us to the Hanover.
His face grew more concerned as my story unfolded. “You mistook my point. It was not to keep you out of my way but to keep you out of trouble. Gad, Frances, what if the murderer was one of the theater crew? And in you waltz, on your own, asking a lot of intrusive questions.”
“First of all, I wasn’t waltzing.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, and you should know I’m not so foolish as to go there alone. I took Aunt Hetty with me.”
He raised his brows. “I gathered that much since you returned together, but I don’t count her as protection.”
“As it turned out, she wasn’t my best choice. She let slip a considerable amount of information. When Delaney interviews them, he’s bound to learn I was there.” I gave him a sheepish smile, which did nothing to improve his humor. “But mistakes aside, I did learn a few things.”
“Such as?”
“There are two people at the theater who had a reason to want her out of the way.” I told him about the actress Sally Cooper, who, if not for Miss Teskey, would be playing the leading roles, and about the owner, who would be selling far more tickets. “Mr. Gilliam has an insurance policy on her life,” I added.
“Really? I wonder if that’s normal for partnerships?”
“Aunt Hetty thought it wasn’t uncommon, but with Miss Teskey dead, he no longer has to deal with a troublesome partner, yet he’ll still have the money she provided.”
“The best of everything. I wonder how Irena came by the money to buy herself a partnership.”
“Her father, I assume.”
“You suppose he gave her that much?”
“That much and more. I found her account book. She’s very wealthy, which puts Bradmore in a suspicious light. As her husband, I’d say her wealth gives him a good motive for murder. He would inherit, wouldn’t he? I mean assuming he got away with her murder.”
“Under most circumstances, the husband would inherit, yes.” His mood seemed to have brightened with this news. “I’m still not sure Bradmore’s our man, but you’ve also brought two new suspects to light, and managed to come home unharmed. That’s a good night’s work, my dear.”
“Why, thank you, but there’s more.”
He chuckled. “Must you always outdo me?”
I fluttered my eyelashes. “I do try. But to continue, I found the threatening letters Miss
Teskey spoke of.”
“Indeed? What do they say?”
“Let me get them.” Hetty and I had let ourselves into the house, and I’d left my coat on the entry table. I retrieved it and pulled my cache from the pocket. My hand froze in place when I glanced up to see George beside me, staring in horror.
“Frances, why did you take these things? What were you thinking?”
“I know I should have left them, but time was short, and I had to make a quick decision. Before you scold me, you may as well review them.” I handed him the account book.
He tutted as he examined the pages. “This does make Bradmore look like a profiteer.”
“He admitted he expected Alexei to keep her in funds, but look at these.” I pushed my coat aside and spread the letters on the entry table. The first was not particularly threatening.
You are not safe in London. Go back to France.
The second was a bit more explicit.
Leave London immediately. What you seek here is not worth your life!
Both were written on expensive vellum, in black ink, with a firm, upright hand.
“Do they tell you anything?” I asked.
“Not much. It’s quality paper, but any of our suspects could have purchased it. The handwriting tells me only that they weren’t written by either of us.” He squinted. “It almost looks like Fiona’s hand.”
I swatted at his arm. “Stop joking. They really offer no clues?”
“There’s value in knowing they exist and weren’t some figment of Irena’s imagination. Otherwise, all they tell me is the person was literate and could get straight to the point. I’m surprised you didn’t just read them and put them back.”
“I barely had time to do more than find them while we were in her office. I didn’t want Mr. Gilliam to know, in case he was the one who wrote them.” I bit my lip. “Also, I’d agreed to leave anything I found for the police.”
“Which is exactly what you should have done. Delaney will surely go to the theater tomorrow, looking for the very evidence you’ve taken. As we’re under suspicion ourselves, he’s not likely to appreciate that.”
I sighed. “Yes, I see now it was a bad idea, but I had to act quickly, and once the manager returned to the room, there was no changing my mind. I’d hoped I could just hand them off to Delaney.”
“We don’t want Delaney to know you ever had these in your possession. He’ll be angry enough to learn you were there at all. We can’t let him know you also walked off with evidence.” He released a dramatic sigh and shook his head. “There’s only one thing to do. Take everything back tonight.” He flashed me a grin. “Fancy another visit to the theater?”
* * *
The Hanover Theater was shrouded in darkness when we returned a little over an hour later. George’s driver let us off at the corner, and we made our way to the back of the building and the stage door. Jack was instructed to circle around the neighborhood and return for us in twenty minutes. Not a great deal of time, especially if George kept fumbling in the dark, as he was now.
“Got it.” He turned the handle on the door and pushed it wide before ushering me inside.
“Goodness, you impress me to no end. I never thought you’d be able to pick that lock in the dark.”
“It’s all a matter of feel,” he whispered as he moved in front of me. Once the door was closed again, I noticed a light coming from the end of the hallway, where it turned left just past the actresses’ dressing room. Eventually, the hallway led to the stage, but I didn’t know what was just around the corner.
“Her office is the first door on the left, but it looks like someone may be here.” I pointed toward the light.
“It could be that someone’s simply left a light burning. I’ve heard they do that in theaters. Regardless, let’s try to get in and out without giving ourselves away.”
I nodded, and we crept forward, careful of any squeaky floorboards, until we reached Miss Teskey’s office. I’d neglected to lock the door when Hetty and I had left. At the time, I hadn’t thought it mattered, since we had all the important material. Now I was grateful I wouldn’t need to fit the key in the lock in the dim light.
We crept inside. The distant light in the hallway made the interior of the office seem even darker. George leaned in close. “I’ll keep watch at the door while you return everything to its proper place. Can you see well enough?”
“Barely.” I was grateful for the spare furnishings. There was nothing between me and the desk, which I found when I cracked my knee against its edge. I let out a slow hiss as I moved around the side, keeping my hand on top. It was the work of a moment to slide the center drawer open, stuff the letters in the back, and place the account book on top. I closed the drawer and tiptoed back to George.
“Don’t you want to look around?” I whispered.
“I trust you’ve already found anything of value.”
My heart swelled at this vote of confidence.
“We don’t have much time left, and I’d like to spend it in Gilliam’s office. You didn’t have a chance to search it, did you?” he added.
“No, but do we dare? His office is that way.” I nodded toward the lit end of the hallway.
“I haven’t heard a peep from down the hall since we arrived,” he said. “I don’t believe anyone else is here.” He felt for my hand and closed his fingers around it. “Come on. It’s too much to resist.”
Holding my breath, I followed him two more doors down the hallway. I stopped when we reached Gilliam’s open door. Lights left burning. Doors left open. Gilliam’s security was rather lax, in my estimation. We were closer to the light source, but it was still dark as pitch inside.
“I’ll need a light to search properly. Let me find the lamp first, then be ready to close the door, so I can turn it on.” He bumped into a guest chair on his way to the desk, then almost knocked the lamp over before settling it back on the desk and turning up the gas. I swung the door against the jamb, allowing just a fragment of light to escape into the hall.
I stepped over to the desk, where he leafed through a stack of papers. Miss Teskey’s name jumped out at me from the print. “This must be the insurance policy he mentioned.” I stopped his hand from pushing it aside.
His lip quirked upward as he scanned the document. “He will be the beneficiary of a tidy sum. If she was his financial partner, having insurance on her life doesn’t seem like an outrageous act, but now that she’s dead, he does look suspicious. Particularly since this is dated just a few weeks ago.”
“Their partnership was only a few months older than that. Hetty didn’t think the insurance policy was unusual, but it does mean he benefits from her death.” An idea struck me. “Look for something with his handwriting on it, not just his signature. We could compare it with the threatening letters.”
The drawer squeaked when he pulled it open. As we cringed at the noise, the office door swung open.
“Here! What are you doing?”
A charwoman stood in the doorway, holding a mop aloft, ready to strike. There was something about housekeepers and cleaning women that made them ever ready for battle. It did not do to cross one when she was poised to attack. I would never understand why our military regiments weren’t staffed with them.
“Terribly sorry to disturb you.” George’s voice was calm and smooth. “Had we known you were still at work, we’d have let you know we were here.” He raised his brows and looked as innocent as a child. “I do hope we didn’t alarm you.”
She gave him a smile and tucked blond curls back into her cap. Lowering the mop to her side, she dripped dirty water onto the floor. I released my breath, grateful she hadn’t decided to use it as a weapon. “Not usually anyone around by this time, even me. I got a late start, but what’s kept you here so long? It’s gone past one.”
Heavens, she thought we were actors.
George tipped his head in my direction. “Frannie here wanted to learn some new lines. The leading role might be op
en.” He frowned. “Did you hear Irena Teskey died?”
With a gasp, she set the mophead on the floor and leaned against the handle. “No! She was a young thing. Wot happened?”
Her ease and willingness to gossip with two strangers who had absolutely no business being in the owner’s office well after hours took me aback. Somehow, after a single look at us, she had managed to suss out that we were not here to steal anything or do her any harm. Amazing.
George drew a finger across his throat, and her eyes widened. “Murdered?” She leaned forward eagerly, then froze. “Not here, was it?”
“No, not here. They don’t know who did it, though. Can you think of anyone here who’d want to kill her?”
She waved a hand at him and laughed. “You know I don’t mix with your lot. Only see you when I’m here early. Otherwise, it’s just Miss Irena and Mr. Gilliam.” She narrowed her eyes and gave us a knowing nod. “But I don’t think you players had much use for her. Look at you.” She tipped her chin in my direction. “I bet she’s not cold in her grave, and here you are, learning her lines.”
I sputtered some inanities.
“Oh, I know how it is, dearie. Dog eat dog and all that. Not saying you killed her, mind.”
“Thank you for that.”
“But if you want the lead, you’ll have to fight that Sally for it.”
“Sally wanted the role, did she?” George said.
“As if you didn’t know it.”
He cocked a brow. “I’m just surprised you know.”
“Like I said, you players are usually gone when I get here, but a few times that Sally’s been here, right in this office, with Miss Irena and Mr. Gilliam. The three of ’em fighting like cats in an alley, I’m sure, wot with the shrieking and shouting. No love lost there.”
“Well, Sally had better watch her step.” He shot me a glance. “And we had better watch the time. Are you ready to leave?”
“Indeed. It’s far later than I thought. We should be off.”
The charwoman took me in with a head-to-toe glance. Her lips ticked upward. “Well, la-di-da,” she said. “You might have a chance at that part, after all. Your posh talk is a lot better than Sally’s.”
A Fiancée's Guide to First Wives and Murder Page 12
