A Charm of Powerful Trouble (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 4) (27 page)

BOOK: A Charm of Powerful Trouble (A Harry Reese Mystery Book 4)
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“Not without good cause. If she were given a true jury of her peers—twelve women—she’d never be convicted.”

Then she pulled a wallet out of her bag.

“Whose is that?”

“Ainslie’s. I took it from him while we were in the closet together.”

“Things must have gotten intimate.”

“That was your doing,” she reminded me. “Look, he had seventy dollars.” She deftly slipped it into her own wallet. “And a pawn ticket.”

“That will be for Aunt Nell’s bracelet.”

“He pawned her bracelet?”

“Yes, to free her from the memory of the husband who’d given it to her.”

“What a snake.”

“Reptilian, certainly. And not as bright as I might have thought.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He seems unaware that Charlie is his son. Do you think Nell will tell him?”

“Oh, yes. In time.”

It was past eleven when we got to Bowery Bay. There was a full moon, and out on the bay colored lanterns hanging from moored boats reflected across the water.

Lou was doing a brisk business in crickets, the ladies netting him five dollars each. And the farmers had tables of food laid out, most prominently the moon cakes prepared by Xiang-Mei—the only Chinese woman present.

About midnight the fireworks started. The show went on for a good hour or two. Then Bowery Bay reverted to its usual nocturnal tranquility.

27

We rose pretty late the next morning and were greeted first thing by the parrot, which now had the capacity to vex in three languages.

A little later Xiang-Mei emerged from the kitchen bearing warmed-over dumplings and unsold moon cakes.

“Crickets more
liked
than my cakes!” she announced with mock chagrin.

Then Nell and Ainslie appeared, followed soon after by the happy couple, whose patois had degenerated into a cloyingly precious amalgam of patter and petting.


Mon
petit
chouCHOU
,” Carlotta squealed as she nestled Thibaut in between her “tétons.”


Ma féesante!
” he mumbled back.

“Does it have to go on while we’re eating?” Ainslie asked.

Nell, though looking a little nauseated herself, shushed him.

Then the parrot chimed in, “
Ne mords pas si fort, Har-ree!

“Oh!
Silly
bird! You
forget
your Chinese!”

There was a good bit more of the same, but the taste I’ve given you should provide sufficient explanation for why we so readily abandoned our guests. I handed Emmie her jacket and we discreetly made our way out of the apartment. Outside, we encountered Mrs. Harwood, one of our neighbors. She was pacing back and forth in front of the building trying to soothe her baby.

“I don’t understand,” she told us. “All of a sudden she’s become troublesome. Doctor says it’s too early for teething.”

“Did it begin about a fortnight ago?” Emmie asked.

“Yes, and all at once.”

“I suspect it’s ephemeral and will have run its course by next week.”

“Oh, I hope you’re right.”

It was a cool, overcast day, so we hopped on a car to Coney Island and took a quiet walk along the shore.

Emmie was being uncharacteristically introspective.

“Well, you got just what you wanted, Emmie. A real murder.”

“Yes, but I was sure I had solved it as well. Of course, it was hardly fair. You keeping Mike Scanlan a secret until the very end like that.”

“Whereas you tell me everything?”

“Everything you need to know, certainly.”

“Well, cheer up. If it hadn’t been for your setting the whole thing up, three happy couples would never have gotten together. Carlotta would never have met Thibaut, Lou would never have been thrown into Xiang-Mei’s clutches, and Aunt Nell would never have been reunited with Ainslie.”

“Yes, but it’s hardly the same, is it? I mean it’s just not nearly as exhilarating as solving a murder.”

“Well, if they follow the course of most marriages, there’s a good chance one of the three will end in a homicide.”

“What a horrible thing to say, Harry.”

“I’m offering nine to two it’s Ainslie who’s first to go.”

“I’d buy the bullet if it wouldn’t upset Aunt Nell so. She’s very attached to him. But your arithmetic is off.”

“How so?”

“I deserve credit for bringing Elizabeth and Tibbitts together, as well. If I hadn’t engineered your job in Washington, they never would have encountered each other there and become reacquainted.”

“Are you sure that should be credited as a success? Their marriage seems to be in a precarious state. She may not have gone to Bangkok, but she is on her way to Europe.”

“Oh, she’ll be back,” Emmie assured me.

“You think Tibbitts has mastered the art of taming her?”

“That’s not very likely. But I think Elizabeth derives some satisfaction from an adversarial relationship.”

“Even when she doesn’t always come out on top?”

“Especially then.”

 

Kitty Graham’s next alumnae letter alluded to Mrs. Rhodes’ predicament:

 

Lena (Spire) Rhodes
(’99) will be spending the autumn season on a nearby island resort, recuperating from a recent encounter with the Molly Maguires. Erin go bragh.

 

It also contained the piece on Emmie and me that Elizabeth had mentioned:

 

Emmie (McGinnis) Reese (’99) and her husband, Harrison, have taken it upon themselves to resurrect the old Brooklyn branch of the Oneida Community and are looking for converts. They assure us that their sect will remain true to the guiding principles on which the original community was founded. Ergo, applicants need be of a forthcoming disposition and possess an appropriate appetite for the good work to be done. Semper Libidinosae.

 

That elicited a good deal of correspondence from Emmie’s fellow alumnae, their spouses, their friends and relatives, and even their servants. Most of them were merely playing it for fun, but more than a few were in earnest. Including a comely parlor maid who helpfully included a photo. I still have it tucked away.

The next week, Carlotta and Thibaut left us for the road, and in the months to come their act became a staple of the second-tier vaudeville houses. With her baby’s colic having cleared up just as Emmie had predicted, Mrs. Harwood began regularly consulting her for pediatric advice.

Meanwhile, Ainslie and Aunt Nell began touring with Mme. Sahlumie, scalping rich mothers and widows. It seemed out of character for Nell, but perhaps it was her life in Buffalo that had never fit right.

Xiang-Mei sent us regular briefings from the farm, where the Corinthians and Chinese lived in harmony for some time. Then, gradually, the girls married, and the old folks went to their maker, leaving her and Lou alone with their growing broods of children and crickets.

Emmie’s interest in murder seemed to wane in the months that followed. She now devoted almost all her time to literary pursuits. But not until that summer did she share the fruit of her efforts with me. It would be unfair for me to reveal more about that here, but rest assured, the tit for tat with Elizabeth is still running hot.

 

 

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The End

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

 

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Humbug on the Hudson.

 

 

If you’ve enjoyed this book, I hope you’ll take a look at
the others in the series:

 

The Harry Reese Mysteries

A Charm of Powerful Trouble

Kalorama Shakedown

Crossings

Always a Cold Deck

 

 

Emmie Reese Mystery Short Stories

Psi no more…

Hidden Booty

The Birth of M.E. Meegs

 

              For more information on the books—including a glossary, list of characters, maps and chronology—please visit my Web site at: 
StreetCarMysteries.com

 

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