A Gilded Grave (21 page)

“Excepting my father,” Joe said, suddenly serious. “And Dee’s father. And perhaps Woodruff, but that remains to be proven.”

Grandmère raised a dismissive hand. “Francis has always been a fool. The only intelligent thing he ever did was to marry Nell Peabody and join forces with George Randolph and your father to create R and W, though I suspect she had a hand in that as well. It was her money to be sure.

“He’s already gone through his own fortune, and he’ll go through Nell’s, too, if she doesn’t watch out. If he hasn’t already.” Gran sighed, a weary sound. “But women invariably choose to look the other way. Even someone as savvy as Nell Woodruff.”

She pointed a finger at Joe. “But that’s her choice. As far as the business goes, Joe, if he’s playing fast and loose with the company’s money, he’ll have to be stopped. Sooner rather than later.”

“That’s the other thing,” Deanna said, feeling a bit more courageous. “After he left, Charles looked through a ledger and whatever he saw in it upset him terribly.”

“You didn’t get a look at it?” Joe asked, but Deanna knew he was just being facetious. She wished she could hand it over.

“No. He locked it in Mr. Woodruff’s desk.”

“Dee, you have to stop doing these mad escapades.”

Deanna jumped up. “They’re not escapades. Elspeth and I have found out more than you and Will both.”

“She’s got you there,” Will said from where he was lounging in an overstuffed chair.

“Father and I will take care of it,” Joe said.

“How? And what about my father? You don’t think he’s cheating the company do you? How could you?”

Joe stood. “I don’t think that. But someone is monkeying with the company’s funds. There are rumors of R and W stock floating round. If they get into Havemeyer’s hands, we’re in big trouble.”

“Stop yelling at me!”

“I’m not yelling!”

They realized at the same moment that they’d both stood and had been arguing over Gran Gwen’s head.

“Oh, I am sorry, Gran Gwen.” Deanna sat down abruptly.

Joe sat more slowly.

Gran Gwen waved the air. “Don’t mind me. I love a good squabble.”

“I think this is more than a squabble. Joe practically accused Papa of being a thief.”

“I did not.”

“Children, enough. Joe has said he doesn’t think that. But remember what that delightful character in Mr. Conan Doyle’s novels says.”

Everyone looked at her.

“Well, I forget exactly what he says, but it’s something about looking at all the possibilities, even if they don’t seem possible, until you come to the right one.”

Deanna forgot for a minute what they were talking about. “You read Sherlock Holmes?”

Gran Gwen put on a prim expression. “I read a lot of things.”

“Excuse me, ladies,” Will said. “But could we get back to our own situation?”

“Sorry,” Gran Gwen said.

“So what happened after Charles returned the ledger to the desk?” Will asked.

“Well, I don’t quite know.”

Will waited.

“I was tired, and emotionally . . . wrung. And he stayed so long. I was up in the balcony and I couldn’t get out until he left. I—I . . . fell asleep.”

“You what?”

“Shut up, Joe.”

“Yes,” said Gran Gwen. “Do shut up.”

“Anything else?” Will’s mouth was twitching, and Deanna thought if he laughed at her, she would just get up and leave. She didn’t need to be laughed at when she was trying to help, and besides she really wasn’t looking forward to telling them about the other thing she’d witnessed that night. But it might be important, though Deanna didn’t know how or why. Still . . .

“Is that all?”

“Not exactly.”

Across from her, Joe groaned and hid his face in his hand. Which was just as well. She didn’t want to see his expression when . . . She cast an anxious look at Gran Gwen.

“It’s all right, dear. You just tell them what you know.”

Deanna took a breath. “When I woke up, it was late, and Charles was gone, so I climbed down and went to bed.”

Will closed his notebook and started to put it back in his breast pocket.

Deanna rushed ahead. “I was almost up the stairs when the front door opened. The Manchesters had been out to dine at the Stanhopes—”

“The Stanhopes again,” Joe mumbled.

“Shh,” Gran Gwen said.

“So I hurried up the stairs hoping I could get to my room before they came up. I didn’t want them to think I was spying on them.”

“Oh no, not that,” Joe said with a laugh.

“Joseph, if you can’t mind your manners, you’ll be sent from the room.”

“I beg your pardon, Grandmère. And yours, Deanna.”

Deanna didn’t think he looked sorry.

“And did you make it to your room?” Will asked.

Deanna looked at him gratefully. He always was more serious than the other two. More sympathetic. More understanding.

“Deanna?” he prompted.

“No. They were coming up the stairs, but I knew I couldn’t get down the hall before they reached the landing, and they might see me running away, so I slipped behind a cabinet in the hallway.” She glanced at Gran Gwen, who nodded to her. The small gesture gave Deanna the courage to blurt out the rest.

“When they got to the landing, they stopped and she—he—they—kissed. But not like a sister and brother kiss. Like lovers kiss. Then his hand . . .”

“That’s quite enough, Dee,” said Gran Gwen. “And very succinctly told. I believe we all get the idea.”

Will was staring at Deanna like she’d sprouted horns. Joe was staring at her, too. He wasn’t laughing now. But she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Are you sure it was not brother-sister affection?” Will said cautiously.

“Bob never kissed me that way. And I don’t think brothers and sisters kiss that way in Barbados, either.”

“And then what happened?”

Deanna thought back. She’d been so shocked, she hadn’t been paying attention. “She pushed him away and said they had to be careful, but that it would only be a little while longer.”

Joe sprang to his feet. “Until what?” He faced Deanna.

“That’s all she said. Then they went down the hall to their rooms, and I went back to mine.”

Joe began to pace the room. Stopped and addressed Deanna. “Are you sure of what you saw?”

Deanna nodded.

“Not that their relationship has anything to do with the sugar industry,” Gran Gwen said.

“Maybe not,” Joe said. “Regardless, the man’s not even interested in sugar. From the little he’s said to me, I doubt if he knows the difference between a condenser and a centrifuge.”

“Perhaps, my dear, he’s one of those effete Britishers who’d rather ride to hounds or sit back with his sherry and let the overseer take care of the business. He does have an impeccable lineage.”

Joe snorted. “Lineage doesn’t run businesses.”

Will cleared his throat. “I know you’re all worried about the company, but I don’t see how disappearing money from R and W, or even the antics of the Manchesters, can possibly have anything to do with the murder of two maids.”

“The murders are my fault,” Deanna said.

“W
hat?” Both men and Gran Gwen stared at Deanna.

“Well, not Daisy, but I’m responsible for the second one, Claire.”

“How do you figure that?” Joe asked.

“Just let her talk,” Will said. He turned to a new page in his notebook.

There were so many things starting to add up in her mind, but how to present them so that they made sense and didn’t have the boys—men—rolling on the floor laughing at her?

“Let her tell it in her own way with no interruptions.” Gran Gwen gave Joe an intent look.

His mouth tightened as if he were holding his argument in.

“Go ahead, Dee.”

Deanna nodded.

“To begin with, Elspeth was worried about Orrin, so when Mama had to take Adelaide to Boston, and we went to stay with the Woodruffs, we . . . Well, Elspeth asked if she could
take Daisy’s things back to her family, and Mrs. Oates, the housekeeper, said that she might. So we—”

“We?” asked Will.

“With a murderer loose, I didn’t want Elspeth to go alone.”

Will nodded. Joe just looked horrified. Deanna was afraid to look at Gran Gwen. She had no idea what that lady might be thinking of her.

“We gathered up Daisy’s clothes and found her books under the mattress.”

Will nodded. “I remember seeing them.”

“We always loaned Daisy our dime novels when we finished them.” Deanna cast an apologetic look at the other three, who looked slightly scandalized. “Well, they’re more interesting than the young ladies’ magazines.”

This time it was Gran Gwen who laughed.

“But we found one with the cover stripped off. You didn’t take it, did you Will?”

Will shook his head.

“Oh, come on,” Joe said. “Those books are so cheap most of the covers do come off.”

“I know that, but Daisy was always very careful to return them in good condition. We didn’t know what to make of it, until . . .” Deanna stood.

Surprised, the two men hastily stood also.

They all watched as she pulled back her jacket and reached behind her waist.

“What on earth . . . ?” said Joe.

She pulled the magazine gingerly from her waistband and held it out. “There.”

Will lifted the book from her hand and studied it. “Dr. Pritchard, the poisoner? I remember the case. Scottish doctor
who poisoned his wife. It was a sensation in its time, but that was years ago,” he pointed out.

“I know, but they’re still writing stories about him. And, more importantly, look in the background.” She pointed to the image. “Look at the maid in the door, witnessing the poisoner.”

Deanna saw the change in his expression. “You think Daisy saw something she shouldn’t.”

Joe took the magazine from Will and perused the cover, then handed it to Gran Gwen.

“But why tear the cover off?” Gwen asked. “She didn’t want anyone to see it?”

“We wondered, too. So Elspeth went down to the servants’ hall to see what she could find out.”

She had everyone’s full attention now.

“Nobody much wanted to talk to her. But later, Elspeth brought Claire to my room, and Claire told us that Daisy had tried to sneak out the night of the party to tell Orrin something, but someone stopped her.”

Joe sighed. “That was me. So if anyone’s to blame for Daisy’s murder, it’s me.”

“Oh, piffle,” Gran Gwen said. “Neither of you is responsible for those murders. But someone else is, and they must be stopped before it happens again.”

“Let’s stick to one thing at a time,” Will said. “What did Claire tell you?”

“That when Daisy couldn’t see Orrin, she asked Claire if she would write a note to him. Daisy doesn’t read or write very well. I mean she didn’t.”
And now she would never learn
. “It isn’t fair.”

Gran Gwen reached over and patted her hand. “No, it isn’t, my dear. But we can depend on Will to catch the monster that did this.”

“None of the maids came forward when we asked them for information,” Will said.

Deanna gave him a disbelieving look. “Are you surprised? The police aren’t exactly their friends.”

Will looked chagrined. “No, we have a lot to answer for in that department. Did Claire tell you what she wrote?”

“She never got a chance to write anything. Daisy was frightened away before she could tell her.”

“You think Daisy tore off the cover as a message?”

“Yes. She couldn’t write and she didn’t have time to go back to Claire, so she put the cover in the envelope. She had an envelope when you found her.”

“Yes, but it was empty.”

“Because whoever killed her took the image.”

“Why leave the envelope behind?”

“Don’t be dense. Because it had Orrin’s name on it. And you arrested him.”

“It wasn’t just because of the envelope. He had no alibi for her time of death.”

“A lot of people didn’t,” Deanna said. “But everybody’s ready to accuse Orrin, just because they heard his name was written on an envelope.”

Will leaned forward, every muscle tense. “What frightened her away?”

“Lord David’s man. Swan. He came down the stairs and Daisy ran.”

“I think maybe I’ll go have another talk with the magician valet.”

“But he was performing at the bonfire when Claire was killed.”

Will looked at her long and hard. “Claire was killed at least
twelve hours earlier and someplace else. Her body was dumped there after she was already dead.”

“How do you know this?” Gran asked.

“Forensics is a science. It can tell us much more about a murder than hot-tempered policemen who are willing to arrest the most convenient person while the real perpetrator goes free.”

Deanna sucked in her breath. That was the most passionate speech she’d ever heard from Will. “So
that
explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“When we heard the scream, we thought it was someone in danger. But it wasn’t Claire who screamed. It was Madeline.”

Will scratched his head. “Dee, you amaze me. She certainly didn’t volunteer that information to the police.”

“She told me,” Deanna said. “She was trying to give me an explanation for why she and Charles were together in the dark on the rocks.” Deanna turned to Joe. “It’s terrible. She said they were in love and I wanted to scratch her eyes out. What do I tell Adelaide? She can’t marry Charles now.”

Will cleared his throat. “And did she say that she saw Joe kneeling over the body when she screamed?”

“Yes, but I don’t believe anything Lady Madeline says anymore. She probably just wanted to take the attention off herself. Just out walking, indeed. Charles’s vest was buttoned wrong. His valet would never let him leave the house in such a state.”

Will leaned back in his chair and raised his arms in victory. “If I had even one officer with your brain, the crime rate in Newport would be cut in half overnight.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Joe said. “You’re not staying another night in that house, Dee. You can come stay here with Grandmère, you and Elspeth.”

“Dee knows she’s always welcome,” said Gran Gwen. “Shall I send one of the footmen to collect Elspeth and your things?”

“Thank you, but we’re no closer to catching the killer,” Dee said. “We can’t stop now.”

“You can and you will,” Joe said. He was practically yelling.

Deanna stood. “May I remind you, you have no right to tell me what to do.” The barb hit the mark. Joe’s suddenly ruddy cheeks drained just as quickly.

“I’m aware of that,” he said in a subdued voice.

Will slowly shook his head. “None of the staff remembers seeing or not seeing her during the day. Either she was very unmemorable or, more likely, they decided not to cooperate.”

“They’re frightened,” Gran Gwen said.

“All the more reason to help the police find the killer before he strikes again.”

“Again?” said Deanna.

“No,” said Will. “That’s just my frustration talking. I beg your pardon. Still, please be careful.”

“I will.”

“And don’t question the servants anymore.”

Deanna shook her head. She’d learned her lesson.

“Good. That’s settled,” Joe said. “I don’t have to worry about you. Because right now I’m more concerned about Woodruff’s subterfuge.”

“Well,” Deanna said, shooting him a sour look, “with Mr. Woodruff and Charles having taken Lord David to see the refineries, Mrs. Woodruff is giving a party for the young people tomorrow night. I’m sure she will invite you, Joe.” She cast an apologetic look at Will. “Though probably not you, Will.”

“I’m quite used to being left off the guest lists. But I must say,
Joe, with you
and
Deanna on the scene—and the other men out of the house—there’s no telling what you might find out.”

Joe frowned at him, then there was a sudden glint in his eye. He was making a plan, Deanna thought. But would he include her?

Gran Gwen clapped her hands. “Good. Deanna can finagle you an invitation while we’re having tea today, to which neither of you gentlemen is invited. And I’ll plan a little soiree myself for an evening later this week. See what we can ferret out.” Gran Gwen shared a smile with Deanna, then reached over to ring the bell. “It’s time for luncheon. All this sleuthing has given me an appetite.”

T
here was no talk of murder during lunch. Gran Gwen was forward-thinking, but as she pointed out, manners were manners. Will stayed for lunch, but once he left, Deanna reminded Joe of his promise to go down to the beach with her.

“Delightful idea,” Gran said. “But, my dear, you cannot go down to the beach in that dress, not if you plan to wear it to tea.” She tugged at the bell pull. Two minutes later, Carlisle appeared. “Ask Minerva to take Miss Deanna upstairs and find something of Laurette’s to wear to the beach.”

“Does she have one of those new bathing costumes?” Deanna asked.

Gran Gwen raised an eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, she does. But you won’t be wearing it when you’re on the beach with Joseph and unaccompanied by a chaperone.”

Deanna’s face fell.

“When this is all over, we’ll order you one of your very
own.” Her dark eyes twinkled. “But we’ll keep it here, and you won’t wear it to Bailey’s. Your mother would have a stroke.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ve wanted one forever. And a tennis dress, like the one I saw in the Harper’s catalogue.”

“Very well, but go upstairs now and change into a day dress if you want to get down the cliff and back before the others arrive.”

Deanna practically ran out of the room.

“Joseph,” Gran Gwen said as soon as Deanna was gone. “That girl needs some freedom before that mother of hers sucks the life out of her.”

Joe, who had just picked up a copy of the
Newport Mercury
, put it down again. “If you ask me, she manages to find plenty of freedom. Always has,” he added.

“Yes, she’s clever, but to no useful purpose.”

Joe groaned. “Oh, Grandmère, don’t say you’re going to make a free thinker and suffragette out of her.”

“Do you want a biddable ninny for a wife?”

“No. But I’m not marrying Deanna.”

His grandmother shrugged.

“It surprises me that you would want me to honor an arranged marriage.”

“Oh, piffle. How your two fathers came to make such a mess of things is beyond me. They are usually smarter men.”

“You would have tricked us more subtly?”

“Is that’s what is upsetting you?”

Joe sighed. “No. It’s just that I’m . . . selfish.”

This statement got two raised eyebrows—his grandmother at her most disapproving. “And how so? You’ve never been selfish.”

“Because I have my work.”

“And you can’t have a life also? Are the two mutually exclusive?”

“I can’t go traipsing around to balls and yacht parties with grease under my nails. Or talk about the latest winner at Saratoga when I’d rather drive one of the new motorcars.”

“Heaven forbid.”

“And I wouldn’t marry someone and leave her sitting alone in one of our cavernous houses, unlooked after and free to carry on all sorts of liaisons.”

Gwen threw back her head and roared with laughter. “Oh, my dear boy, give her a wrench and put her to work on one of your inventions.”

Joe stared at his grandmother, but before he could think of anything to say, the door opened and Dee walked in wearing a white frock with slimmer sleeves than the current fashion and with a short enough hem that he could see her feet and ankles. It took his breath away.