Finally, she was done and I almost ran down the stairs. I was in no state for breakfast, but Harrison convinced me to sit and eat some toast.
It seemed an age later when I was finally free to walk as fast as propriety allowed towards the Finney’s home. I knew that it was far too early for visitors. Fortunately, I wasn’t interested in speaking with the ladies of the house. The servants had the information I needed and they had been up for hours.
I made my way to the kitchen door where I knocked and went in, not bothering to wait for the call to enter. It was entirely likely that the servants were too busy with morning preparations to stop to answer the door.
“Good morning,” I said to the short, round woman who stopped in her tracks at the sight of me. From her lack of uniform and the large ring of keys at her belt, I knew her to be the housekeeper, Mrs. Weed. “My name is Rose Lunceford and I’ve been engaged by Mrs. Finney to investigate the items that she believes are missing in the house. I hope this isn’t a terribly inopportune time to speak with you.”
Mrs. Weed checked the watch hanging from a ribbon on her blouse. “I can give you a quarter of an hour, if that will suffice.”
“That should be wonderful,” I beamed with relief. If I had to wait even one more hour to start finding answers, I feared I would wear a hole in the rug from pacing.
Mrs. Weed led me to the small, dimly lit room that was sure to be her sitting room and office. She had a small desk and moved behind it with practiced ease, motioning for me to take the chair opposite her. The room was clean and spare. In short, it was everything a good housekeeper’s sitting room should be.
The housekeeper herself sat and looked at me with the competent deference she’d developed over a lifetime of servitude. I was immediately aware that this woman was in complete control of her domain and that she could handle anything that I might throw at her. It put me at ease immediately.
Suddenly, though, I wasn’t certain where to begin. In houses where a dowager lived with her daughter or daughter-in-law, there were often divided loyalties among the staff. Some remained in favor of the older woman and some preferred the younger. Since Lillian Finney was on the suspect list and I didn’t know whose camp Mrs. Weed would be in, I felt the urge to tread carefully.
“My partner, Mr. Edwards, and I were here two days ago and Mrs. Finney showed us some places where items have gone missing in the parlor. However, Mrs. Lillian Finney explained that these items had been given as gifts a long time past.” I paused, not sure how to proceed.
Mrs. Weed nodded with understanding. “Have you seen Mrs. Finney when she’s having one of her turns?”
“I have,” I said with a sympathetic smile. “Yesterday when we were here, she was very confused. Do you think it’s possible that she has given things away and forgotten?”
“I’ve been here for the past fifteen years,” Mrs. Weed explained matter-of-factly. “When I first started, the mistress was never confused. It’s been coming on slowly these past seven or eight years. Her confusion has only been this bad for the last year or so.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said politely.
“That’s kind of you to say,” Mrs. Weed sighed and she lost a little of her careful mask of servitude. Underneath it was a genuine caring for her employer that touched me. “She was always a very exact woman. Don’t get me wrong, she was a kind mistress, but if something wasn’t in place, she made sure that I knew about it. Everything had to be done on time and in a particular way. She grew up in England before coming here as a young lady, you see. I believe her family had a grand house.”
I nodded and refocused her. “Do you mean to say that she’d know if something in the house was misplaced or missing?”
“Oh, yes. There was a maid who dusted the books and would read them when she thought no one was looking. She switched two just before Christmas without realizing it and Mrs. Finney was in such a state about it!” Mrs. Weed chuckled. “She might be confused, but she moved into this house sixty years ago and I believe she knows where every pin belongs.”
“If she told you something was missing, you’d believe her, then?” My excitement was rising. This was the confirmation I needed to continue investigating.
Mrs. Weed considered this briefly before nodding slowly. “I would believe her. If she says it’s not where it ought to be, then something is out of place.”
“Her daughter-in-law had reason to believe that the items had been given away or sold.” It was a sticky point that needed resolving and I watched the housekeeper closely to analyze her reaction.
The older woman raised an eyebrow and, for the briefest of moments, the corner of her mouth curled with distaste. “Mrs. Lillian spends a good deal of time telling her mother-in-law what to do. When Mrs. Finney is confused, she just goes along with whatever Mrs. Lillian says. If she’s in her right mind, though, she tries to stand up for herself.”
I thought back to the way that Lillian had spoken gently with her mother-in-law and humored her wishes. Had that all been for our benefit? “How do the two get along when Mrs. Finney is lucid?”
“Well, things have changed in the last year,” Mrs. Weed hedged. She watched me for a long moment with shrewd eyes before leaning forward and saying, “Mrs. Finney has never been too pleased that her son married Mrs. Lillian. They’ve never been on good terms and there was such a row when Frank said they were moving back in here. Of course, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say that you learned that from me.”
“Mum’s the word,” I promised. “Thank you for speaking with me. I’m sure you have much to do this morning. I’ll see myself back out the way I came, shall I?”
Mrs. Weed thanked me and offered her further assistance in the matter should I need it. I got to my feet and made my way back to the kitchen. I was almost out the door when a tall, thin girl in a maid’s day dress, cap, and apron stopped me.
Her eyes darted around the kitchen as though afraid that someone might order her back to work. “Excuse me, miss, but I overheard what you were saying with Mrs. Weed.”
“Did you?” I asked, surprised.
She shrugged. “I was ironing some of the wash next door. The walls are terribly thin down here.”
“I see,” I said and waited for her to continue.
“I wanted to tell you that I’ve overheard Mrs. Lillian being very unkind to Mrs. Finney on a few occasions. She’ll call her cruel names or take away her food if she’s having one of her bad turns. I think I heard her slap her once.” The maid was almost whispering and I had to strain to hear her.
“Have you told anyone about this?” I whispered back.
“Oh, no, miss,” she replied with wide eyes. “I don’t want to lose my place here. Please tell me you won’t say a word about it to Mrs. Weed?”
“What’s your name?”
“Doris, miss.”
“Doris, I won’t promise to stay quiet if Mrs. Finney is being abused. However, since there’s no proof and only your word, I’ll look for further evidence before I say something. And should I get that evidence, I’ll do my best to leave your name out of it.”
She looked a bit reassured, though she was still antsy. Her fingers twisted the cleaning cloth in her hands and she bit her lip.
“Is there something else?” I prompted.
“I’m sure that I saw Mrs. Lillian put the green cat statue into her handbag one day when she thought no one was looking.” The poor girl looked as though she was about to faint from fear of revealing her secret.
“Thank you for telling me, Doris. Please let me know if you think of anything else that you think is important.” I reached in my reticule and handed her one of my cards. Then I fairly flew out the door. I had so much to tell Will that I was at Maple House before I even noticed my feet touching the ground.
Chapter Six
Will whistled when I finished telling him all that I’d learned. “It looks like we have a case to investigate after all,” he said thoughtfully. He stretched out i
n his seat, long legs in front, crossed at the ankle, and lanky arms folded up behind his head.
“It does, doesn’t it?” I poured myself a cup of tea and added two lumps of sugar. I was feeling a bit smug at the moment. We finally had a case that we could sink our teeth into. And, if it hadn’t been for my persistence, we wouldn’t have known it.
“At this point in time,” Will said, the wheels in his head turning as he spoke, “we can assume that things have gone missing at the Finney’s home. The number one suspect is Lillian Finney.”
I raised an eyebrow and sipped my tea. “It certainly looks that way. Doris saw her taking the jade statue.”
“Do you think anyone would take a maid’s word over one of the residents of the house?” Will asked, voicing a worry that had been niggling in my mind as well.
“Possibly not,” I admitted. “We certainly need more proof.”
“It would have to be the sort of proof that would convince the police that they needed to arrest her.”
“Why do you say that?” I wondered, completely at sea.
Will sat up and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Mrs. Finney might not be in the frame of mind to know what’s happening. Unless we can get the police involved, Lillian will just go on stealing when she thinks her mother-in-law isn’t lucid. Even if we go to Mrs. Finney with proof, she might not remember what had happened the previous day. We’ve never met Lillian’s husband, so it’s impossible to tell whether or not he’d be concerned about his wife’s behavior.”
My eyelids blinked rapidly as my brain whirred. I considered that. “That’s a fair point. Anything less than an arrest won’t provide the sort of results we need. Good thinking, Will.”
My mind buzzed around that thought all the way home and through supper with Father. We certainly had our work cut out for us. It would be easy to fail. People were often unwilling to take the word of a maid over that of a wealthier person. On top of that, we had to deal with a client who wasn’t always able to remember her own name, let alone the crime she had asked us to investigate. Will was right; it would take concrete evidence if we were to stop someone like Lillian from stealing from her mother-in-law.
By the time the last course was served, I knew that I was determined to help Mrs. Finney stop the thefts from her home even if she wasn’t able to understand what was happening. I hated that someone was trying to take advantage of her fragile state. I was filled with a righteous indignation that fueled my determination.
I might have gone on mulling over my case long into the night if Cal hadn’t arrived just as we were finishing supper. He sank gratefully into a chair and Harrison bustled in to serve him from the remains of our meal.
“Another long day?” Father prompted.
Cal nodded wearily before taking a long drink from his glass. Sated, he set the cup back down and began to debrief us. “We’ve investigated disgruntled clients, rival bookies, bigger gangsters and local enforcers. No one is willing to tell us much. It seems as though police involvement is deterring progress more than helping it.”
My fingers fidgeted with the napkin in my lap. Something in me was unable to resist offering advice to this man, regardless of the way he felt about me. “Surely there must be law-abiding citizens with whom he interacted. Did Meriwether live in a boardinghouse or did he own his home?”
The young detective looked too tired to argue or even scowl at me. “He rented a house in a respectable neighborhood, but he lived alone. We’ve canvassed the neighbors and no one reports seeing anything odd. The house backs onto an alley, which we believe is how the killer came and went without raising suspicion.”
“Where did he conduct his business, then? It sounds as though he didn’t use his home.” I knew my interference grated on Cal, but the innate need to do something helpful pushed me to ignore his displeasure.
Cal paused to swallow the bite he’d just taken and patted at his trim mustache before answering. “Meriwether worked from a pub downtown, the Ale House. Unfortunately, the bartender and serving girls refuse to say much. I have a feeling that they are being paid to not notice who comes in to visit with the bookies.”
“Will none of the nearby businessmen or shopkeepers tell you what they’ve seen?” I was beginning to understand Father’s frustrations with the case. Someone must have seen something. It was infuriating that no one was willing to speak.
“It’s far too dangerous for any of them to speak of what they might see or hear.” Cal shrugged. “We don’t have much to go on.”
Father harrumphed. “I’m tempted to be glad that the parasite is gone and simply close the case. Of course, I’d appreciate if you didn’t share that sentiment outside of this room.”
“There hasn’t been any retribution. If no feud arises, it’s difficult to see anything but the good consequences that have come from this crime,” Cal agreed. “Though I hate when a murderer goes free.”
Father grunted and nodded wearily.
We moved to the parlor soon after and enjoyed some quiet conversation until Father remembered a report that he’d promised Cal. Once he scurried off, Cal and I found ourselves alone and not certain of how to speak to each other.
Any time I saw the man, all I could think of was his firm declaration that I was to form no romantic attachment to him. The anger that he would be so presumptuous and the embarrassment that I’d done something to make him feel this was necessary warred with all the disapproval he’d shown over my starting a detecting agency. I must be completely honest; added into all that was my attraction to and respect for Cal as well. I could ignore all this when Father was in the room, but on the occasions that we found ourselves alone together, I could hardly sit still for all the tension between us.
I was trying to wrack my brain for a neutral topic when Cal sighed. “Can we call a truce, Rose?”
“A truce?” I asked not sure what to think of the idea. Did Cal regret the strain that existed between us as much as I did? Until that moment, I hadn’t realized that might be true.
He leaned forward in his wingback chair. “I admit that I don’t like the idea of you putting yourself in danger.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to protest and hurried on. “However, there’s not much I can do about it since your father has given his approval. I’d like to go back to being friends.”
Friends. That would be a huge improvement over the uncomfortable relationship we now had. Considering how much time we spent together due to Father being his mentor, friendship would make sense.
Yet, it was so far from where my heart of hearts wanted us to be. Could I truly be no more than Cal’s friend? Could my heart be content with friendship when it yearned for so much more? I assured myself that the voice whispering that I was setting myself up for heartache was nonsense.
I lifted my chin, choosing haughtiness to disguise my true feelings. “I’m willing to be friends, but you must stop giving me disapproving looks every time I mention one of my investigations.”
Cal smoothed his mustache as he thought this over. “I’ll do my best. You’ll have to forgive me if I forget and let one slip by, though.”
I had to admit that this would be far preferable to our current situation. “All right, I accept your conditions. Truce.”
He held out a hand and, with a wry grin, said, “Truce.”
I have to admit that the feel of my hand in his was very nice indeed. It was so nice that I recovered my hand as quickly as possible without being rude rather than risk revealing my churning emotions. Flashes of holding his hand passed in front of my mind’s eye and I cleared my throat uncomfortably.
“Are you working on a case now?” Cal asked, sitting back in his chair.
I analyzed him carefully for any sign that he was being anything less than genuine. Seeing no offending smirk or eye roll, I shared with him the details of our investigation, ending with our plans to return to the house tomorrow and test a few of the silver pieces.
I was very pleased to see Cal’s eyebrows lift. “
That’s terribly clever of you,” he said.
Though I thrilled at his praise, I humbly gave credit where it was due. “If it weren’t for Harrison, we’d have closed the case by now.”
“Yet you persisted even when there were no clues. Clearly you’ve inherited your father’s talent for investigating. What will you do after you’ve tested the silverware?”
“If we find that some of the pieces have been replaced, the next step would be to discover where they are being made. Someone must have made a mold of the originals and have created the forgeries.” It felt wonderful to be speaking so calmly with Cal once again. Despite my determination to act calmly and logically, my heart soared. “Of course, if the pieces turn out to be the originals, then that particular investigation will have come to a close.”
“You will still have the jade cat to track,” Cal pointed out. “As well as the painting and the other items that have gone missing.”
“Yes, there is that. Perhaps they’ve been sold to a pawnbroker or auction house. Since Lillian put it into her bag, it’s unlikely that she was simply moving it around the house. And if she was giving it as a gift, she would have wrapped it in paper first.”
“It’s possible that she took the statue under her husband’s orders,” Cal mused.
I looked up at Cal sharply. “What do you mean?”
His eyes grew pensive. “The house does belong to Melvin Finney. Even though it’s still in his mother’s name, he’s certain to be the one to inherit. Should he decide to sell off a few knickknacks before he legally takes possession, no one would fault him. You say that Mrs. Finney’s memory is bad. It isn’t outside the realm of possibility that he asked for her permission on one of her foggy days and she doesn’t remember giving it. You might have a difficult time proving that any crime took place at all.”
Betting on Death Page 5
