A Gilded Grave (8 page)

“Chief wants this solved. He’s getting guff from the swells. So I expect he’ll be happy to find the culprit living down here.”

“Did he send you to do that?” Will asked.

“Something like.”

“I don’t believe it.”

Crum laughed. “Maybe he don’t like cops that look the other way.”

Will smiled slowly, an expression so filled with intimidation that Joe was taken aback.

“Is that right? That may be. But I
know
he don’t like cops who use brute force when it isn’t necessary and are on the take.”

“One day, Hennessey.”

“Name it.”

The sergeant lifted his chin to the men, who pushed a docile Orrin through the door. They were met with jeers and angry shouts from the crowd that had formed outside.

The sergeant turned on his heel and strode into the street. The crowd quieted until he passed, then became even more vocal.

“Can’t you stop him?” Joe asked.

“Not here,” Will said. “Jurisdiction is a sticky wicket. Some officers are more territorial than others.”

“And no one wants Bellevue Avenue.”

“Not even me,” Will said ruefully. “I got it by default.”

“They tie your hands?”

“Not totally. We have to turn a blind eye now and again. But it’s the same in every city in the world. The rich get away with murder.”

“And this time?”

“Joe, you know I’ll do whatever it takes to find the real culprit.”

“Even if it costs your job?”

“Even if it costs my job.”

Joe nodded, clasped his friend on the arm. “Thanks.”

“I’m not doing it for you. Now, let me get down to headquarters and make sure nothing bad happens to that boy.”

Joe walked Will to the street, watched him stride off down the brick pavement until he rounded the corner, then shut the door. He had a lot of things to do.

The first order of business was to talk to his grandmother.
Then he would draw a draft on his bank and get Orrin out of jail if he could.

He quickly changed clothes, making himself presentable . . . enough. Then he closed down the machines and locked the warehouse. He pulled his bicycle away from the wall, clipped his trouser leg so that it wouldn’t pick up grease, and maneuvered the machine through the door.

The crowd had begun to disperse. But a few stragglers remained, and one called out, “You gonna get that boy out of jail, Ballard?”

“I’m going to try.”

“Just make sure you do.”

It sounded like a threat, but that’s what happened with desperate people. They turned on whoever was nearest.

Joe threw his leg across the bicycle and pushed off from the cobblestones. Lifting his hand to the crowd, he peddled away.

I
t wasn’t easy to convince Cassie to drop Deanna off at Bonheur, the Ballard family’s seaside cottage. She and Madeline had a hundred questions. When Deanna said she’d remembered she was supposed to visit Gran Gwen that afternoon, Cassie frowned at her. “You didn’t say anything about it this morning.”

“I forgot until just a few minutes ago.”

“But you’re dressed in your tennis frock,” Madeline noted.

“Oh, Gran Gwen won’t mind,” Deanna said with a lightheartedness she didn’t feel, and hoped that the drive to the southern point of land where Bonheur sat alone would pass quickly.

“She’s a great character, Maddie,” Cassie said. “You met her last night briefly. She’s Joe Ballard’s grandmother.”

“That handsome man who disappeared before I could claim him for a waltz?”

Cassie glanced at Deanna. “Yes. But we don’t like him anymore.”

“No? Why on earth not? I’m surprised one of you hasn’t snatched him up yet. Or is he undesirable?”

He wasn’t, though he might well be soon if Deanna didn’t squelch the gossip.

“He, um . . .” Cassie hesitated.

“It’s quite okay to tell her,” Deanna said, a little more sharply than she’d intended. “Our families were in the process of arranging a marriage between us. A merger of businesses. Like a couple of barrels of sugar. Neither of us was ready for marriage or willing to be pawns of the sugar industry.”

Madeline raised both eyebrows.

“Sorry if I shock you.”

“On the contrary.” Madeline smiled. “I think you were very courageous to cry off. But aren’t you afraid that it will sour your chances of making a good match?” She placed her finger on her dimpled cheek, the one that corresponded to her brother’s dimple. “Or do you already have someone else in mind?”

“No, of course I haven’t.”

Beside her, Cassie giggled.

Madeline leaned forward across the space between them. “Oh, do tell.”

Fortunately, they turned into the drive of Bonheur, and Deanna busied herself with straightening her skirts and patting her hair. As if anybody at Bonheur cared a whit about hairs out of place.

“Oh my. Look at that. It’s so . . . mysterious,” Madeline said, looking up at the three-storied, stick-and-shingle “cottage” that dominated the point of land. The first floor was constructed of stone, like a castle fortress; the upper stories were covered with various patterns of weathered gray shingles that undulated in the sun like the waves on the sea behind it. “And
spectacular.” Madeline stared at the façade. “It looks like it’s sitting at the end of the world.”

“That’s because of the cliffs,” Deanna told her. “They drop straight down into the sea.”

“Does anyone ever fall off?”

“No,” Deanna said, knowing they were all thinking of poor Daisy. “Though the boys used to jump off them into the water. There are stairs down to a private beach. And also a marina, so Mr. Ballard can sail his yacht straight home instead of having to dock it in the town marina.”

“Wealthy,” Madeline said.

“Very,” agreed Cassie. “Old money. Bonheur is
really
old. It’s been in their family for several generations.”

“Old money,” Madeline echoed.

“But not all prim and proper,” Cassie assured her. “Oh mercy. Gwen Ballard has a scandalous past. She still keeps tongues wagging, and she must be in her seventies if she’s a day.”

“But she’s still invited to the best houses?”

Deanna started to say that Bonheur
was
the best house. But she held her tongue.

“Oh, good Lord, yes,” Cassie said.

“The Ballards must be a powerful family.”

“I guess so,” Cassie said.

“Are they, Deanna?”

“They’re a well-respected family.”

Madeline smiled at Deanna. “They sound fascinating. You must introduce me one day. To the grandmother and to her handsome grandson. I love adventurous people.”

The carriage came to a stop. The coachman let down the steps just as the front door opened and Gran Gwen came out
to greet them. A small woman, she managed to exude magnificence in a maroon tea gown and a sleeveless gold caftan that floated around her in the sea breeze.

“And eccentric, I see. No butler?”

“Of course she has a butler,” Deanna said, gathering her skirts to exit quickly. She didn’t want to take the chance of having Cassie and Madeline join them for tea. “Thank you, Cassie. Fingers crossed that I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Maddie and I are counting on it.”

“Yes, do come,” Maddie added. “I’m so looking forward to it.”

Deanna smiled and hurried up the porch steps to Gran Gwen.

As soon as they were inside, she let her smile slide.

“My goodness. Come out to the conservatory and tell me what has brought you here in such a hurry. You’re probably swimming in tea already, but I’m not.”

“Did you call my mama?”

“Yes, and all is well.” Gran Gwen chuckled. “I told Dickerson I ran into you at the Casino and begged you to come to tea. A little white lie, but your mother was pleased. She may have set her sights on Lord David for you, but she hasn’t totally given up on my grandson yet.”

“Thank you. I didn’t know what to tell her, and it’s so very important that I talk to you.”

They walked down the long wainscoted corridor toward the back of the house. Bonheur was decorated in dark wood and richly colored fabrics and always made Deanna feel safe. Just walking down the hall did much to assuage her agitation.

“Unfortunately, Laurette is away at a rally and won’t be back for another week or so. Or did you mean to speak to me alone?”

Deanna nodded, relieved beyond words. “You.” It would be hard enough to tell Gran Gwen. Having to tell Laurette Ballard what was being said about her son . . . she didn’t think she could do it.

“I’m glad you came, regardless of this important thing you must tell me. I wanted to make sure you were recovered from last night—the ball and the death of that poor child. And . . . I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Joseph.”

“That’s why I’ve come.” Though now that she was here, Deanna couldn’t imagine what she was going to say. Gran Gwen had to be warned about what was being said about Joe. He might not care, but Deanna refused to let his mother and Gran Gwen be ostracized for his indiscretion—if it were even true.

They continued past the back parlor, through the morning room, and out to the conservatory, where they were enveloped by sunshine and the sea. In the distance, waves sparkled like so many diamonds. Tropical flowers flowed from hanging baskets and odd-looking palm trees spouted into the air from rattan tubs.

No matter how many times Deanna came here, stepping into the conservatory was always a surprise, and her smile returned, if only fleetingly.

Gran Gwen led her toward two cushioned wicker chairs that sat behind a small glass table. Almost immediately, a maid entered and placed a tea tray on the table.

Gran Gwen poured out tea, added milk and two lumps of sugar, and handed Deanna the cup. “Now tell me.”

Deanna’s mouth twisted.
Do not cry. Do not cry.
She was embarrassed and heartsick. And suddenly, she didn’t know where to start.

“Are you in trouble, my dear?”

“Not me.”

“Oh.” Gwen sat back a little in her chair. Sipped her tea. “Maybe you should just start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

So Deanna did. How Will had come that morning to ask her questions. How her mother wanted to take Adelaide to consult the doctor and bring Deanna along. How Elspeth was afraid that Lord David’s servant had put a curse on Daisy, and how they were all afraid the police might blame Orrin for her death. About going to the Casino, about the tennis match and tea.

All too soon, Deanna reached the part she dreaded most.

“I was coming down the corridor and these men—they—”

“Were they rude to you?” Gwen prompted.

Deanna shook her head.

“To one of the other girls?”

Deanna shook her head again.

“Tell me just like it happened. Don’t be embarrassed. We don’t allow humiliation or hurt in this household.”

“I—don’t want to say it.”

Gwen peered at her, then took Deanna’s icy hands in her sinewy ones. “Then just spit it out like a bad taste. I won’t judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Not me. I heard them laughing about something—someone—who had left the ball early.” Deanna saw a spark of understanding in Gran Gwen’s eye and faltered.

“Go on.”

“They saw him with Daisy. Outside. They said he—he’d taken off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt and—Cokey said that he was taking her up against the wall.” Deanna pulled her hands away from Gwen’s and, hot with shame and embarrassment and feeling sick, covered her face.

“Go on.” Gran Gwen’s voice was calm, sympathetic, and Deanna felt worse.

“They thought he must have gotten a taste for the lower classes living where he did and that he must have murdered Daisy. They said even if he wasn’t arrested, he would be ostracized by society and his family would be ruined.”

“They were talking about Joseph?”

Deanna took her hands from her face and looked directly at Gran Gwen. “Yes.”

“And you believed them?”

“No. I don’t think so. I mean, I know men do such things but . . . but he wouldn’t kill her. I don’t believe it. You don’t believe it?”

Gwen took a long time to answer. “I think I know my grandson well enough to say he wouldn’t kill over a thing like that.”

“But do you think . . . ?” Deanna couldn’t ask; she was afraid of the answer.

“Wasn’t Daisy his apprentice’s intended?”

Deanna nodded, praying that Gwen would say it couldn’t be true.

At last she said, “It isn’t like Joe to betray a friend. I’m sorry you had to witness that bit of poor taste. Men like to revel in the more sordid side of life. Make it larger than it really is.”

“Is that what happened? They were making it up?”

“I think they must have been. I certainly hope so.”

“I didn’t want to tell, but I thought—well, I wanted to warn you. Maybe you could do something to stop the rumors. I knew if I didn’t tell, I would be abetting them. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“Nonsense. Though, Deanna, I wouldn’t share this with others.”

“I’d never.”

“Not with your father or Cassie or anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll talk to Joe, and then I’ll see what I can do.”

“I wish I had never gone to the Casino or heard those stupid men!”

“I’m very thankful you did, though I’m chagrined at your ears being sullied with such vulgar talk. Now finish your tea and I’ll send you home. You are a very brave woman. You’re also very smart, and I hope that you and Joe will one day see your way through all of this.”

Skeptical, Deanna looked up at her.

“You don’t believe this talk, do you?” Gwen asked.

“No.” Deanna really didn’t
want
to believe the talk. “But Joe doesn’t want to marry me.”

“Joe doesn’t know his own mind. Do you?”

“I don’t want to get married and take my place in society. I want a grand passion.” She clasped her hand over her mouth.

Gran Gwen smiled and took her hand away. “My dear, you have plenty of time for grand passions. Have a sandwich, and let’s get some color back in those cheeks.”

Now that she was free from the burden of her message, Deanna was suddenly hungry. And with relief came speculation about who actually had killed Daisy. “Gran Gwen?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Elspeth is afraid that suspicion will fall on her brother Orrin, because the police always look for someone to arrest among the lower classes.”

“Unfortunately, she is correct about that. But Will Hennessey is a good man. He’ll find the real culprit if he can.”

“It might not be up to him. He has superiors he must answer to.”

Gwen nodded. “Who don’t want to offend any of the Bellevue Avenue crowd.”

“That isn’t right.”

“No, my dear. And someday it might change, though so far history has proven otherwise.”

“Then, what do we do?”

“The best we can.”

“And give women the vote?”

“Absolutely.” Gran Gwen lifted her teacup, and they finished their tea both feeling a lot better than they had when they’d began.

A few minutes later, Gwen walked Deanna out to the Ballard carriage, which was waiting at the front portico to drive Deanna home.

“Now, don’t worry. I will get to the bottom of this.”

“Thank you. And thank you for tea.”

As the carriage door opened, Deanna saw Joe cycling up the drive.

He jolted to a stop. “Dee.”

Her conversation with Gran Gwen and what she’d overheard came barreling back.

“Dee, I wanted—”

Deanna shook her head and scrambled into the carriage. The coachman closed the carriage door.

“Dee, wait. They’ve arrested Orrin for Daisy’s murder.”

For a second, the world went out of focus. Deanna’s breath stopped, then came rushing back in again. She grasped the edge of the carriage window and leaned out. “He didn’t do it, Joe.
You
know he didn’t. You have to tell them.”

“Well . . .”

“Don’t say more.” She turned away. “Drive on.”