A Proposal to Die For (14 page)

Alkmene glanced at Jake. That person would have to make the journey twice. Expensive, not to say extravagant. Why had Norwhich not simply written to his niece and arranged for the crossing? Evelyn wasn't a child who couldn't be left alone on a boat.

She asked, ‘Anyone I might know?'

Evelyn flushed a little. ‘I do not think we move in the same circles.'

Suddenly her American accent was less thick and her tone just a little vicious.

Alkmene felt Jake's shoe press down onto the tip of her own. She moved the toe up against his sole to signal she had caught the change too. She kept smiling at the bereaved heiress. ‘So nice to meet you here. I had no idea you were staying in a hotel. At the party you mentioned – '

‘My uncle died.' Evelyn sounded curt. ‘As it happened in that house, I had no intention of staying there any longer than necessary. I am staying here, at his expense, I mean, of the estate, until it is all settled. Then I will go back home.'

‘Oh, you inherit? I think I heard he had a son.'

Alkmene had just intended to make conversation, but the word ‘son' caused a real explosion in the heiress's composure. She jumped to her feet and yelled, ‘That is a mean accusation. Nothing of it is true, you hear.'

The waiter, who was just approaching with their coffee, struggled not to drop the silver tray.

Jake said coldly, ‘So you are aware of the talk going round that you are not the heir to his fortune and you even know it?'

Evelyn Steinbeck stared at him with wide eyes as if he was an adder appearing from under her table. She gestured at the waiter. ‘I want these people removed from here. They are bothering me, threatening me.'

Her voice grew into a frantic wail. ‘Help, I want the police.'

Alkmene looked at Jake. Perhaps it was better if they left before this woman turned it all into a big scene. Her father would certainly not appreciate talk among his friends about the police removing his daughter from a decent establishment.

‘I want the police,' Evelyn Steinbeck snapped to the waiter, who stepped back, nodded and vanished, with their coffee, apparently to look for an officer in the street.

Alkmene cleared her throat. ‘I think we could uh…'

Jake leaned back in his chair as if he was just discussing the weather here. ‘You want the police, fine with me.' He studied the heiress with cold eyes. ‘I bet they will be very interested in that gold locket with the initials FW under your pillow in the room upstairs.'

Evelyn Steinbeck's black-rimmed eyes grew huge. She spluttered, ‘How do you know…'

Jake crossed his legs over one another and studied his fingernails. ‘I know much more and I can't wait to tell it all. Not just to the police, you know, but in a nice exposé in the papers. Certain elements always tickle the public fancy. Beautiful woman…' he cast her a look ‘…tragic death, fortune at stake.'

‘Mistaken identity,' Alkmene added.

Her heart was pounding, but she understood what Jake was doing here. They had to bluff their way out of it, force Evelyn Steinbeck into a confession. Once the police had appeared to ask them to leave, there would certainly not be a second chance to get at her.

Evelyn Steinbeck stared, her mouth opening and shutting.

‘Personally,' Jake said, ‘I would rather write about something more serious than wills and lost heirs, you know, but the public just can't get enough of it. And as my editor does want to sell newspapers, I have no choice but to oblige him. If I want to keep my job that is.'

‘How much?' Evelyn hissed.

‘Excuse me?'

‘How much to shut up about it? I am sure I can pay you more than your lousy editor can. I can even get you a job in New York City. Would you not like to go there? Have a different life?'

Evelyn tried a coquettish smile. ‘Pay is better there, in whatever job you'd take, but I can assure you that newspapers are looking for smart reporters.'

She couldn't quite keep the venom out of the word smart, but still it was an enticing offer.

Alkmene held her breath. Perhaps it had always been Jake's big dream to cross the Atlantic and make it in America. She would certainly love to see New York City herself some time.

Jake leaned over, his palms flat on the table. ‘I would take you up on your offer, if it were up to me to decide. But I took up this business on behalf of a friend and I can't back out. Word of honour.'

‘Oh, what is a word given compared to money and fame and a new life?' Evelyn Steinbeck batted her long lashes. ‘Your friend will certainly not follow you to America to seek revenge for breaking your word.'

‘That is an interesting term,' Jake said, ‘for that was the only thing I did not mention yet which people absolutely gobble up in newspaper stories.
Revenge
.'

Evelyn paled. She uttered a most unladylike curse. ‘What do you want from me?'

The waiter came back in, two policemen in tow. He gestured at their table, looking mortified that the other guests were witnessing this.

Jake said to Evelyn, ‘Your call, lady.'

The policemen halted at their table. ‘These people are bothering you? You want to bring charges against them? We can take them down to the station for questioning and…'

‘It was all a misunderstanding,' Evelyn Steinbeck said.

The oldest policeman blinked. ‘Excuse me, but the waiter ran onto the street to fetch us. He made it sound like murder was being committed here.'

‘Murder…' Jake repeated in a soft, seductive tone.

Alkmene suppressed a smile.

Evelyn Steinbeck snapped at the policemen, ‘It was all a misunderstanding, I tell you. Now scoot.' And to the waiter, ‘Will you never again embarrass me that way? Or I will complain to the director and you will never ever work in a fashionable hotel again.'The policeman still wanted to argue, but the mortified waiter grabbed his arm and begged him to leave. With a tomato-red head, he led the way out of the breakfast room, followed by curious glances from the other guests. Several coffee cups were suspended in mid-air as the holder speculated about the cause of this early morning commotion.

Jake focused on Evelyn Steinbeck. ‘You did the right thing. Now that we understand each other…'

Evelyn looked around her. She seemed to consider her options, quickly. Then she said, ‘Not here. Up in my room where we can talk more freely.'

Alkmene was about to rise, if only to get away from the uncomfortable stares of the other breakfasters, but Jake's voice made her freeze.

‘No.' Jake leaned over to Evelyn Steinbeck. ‘If we go up with you, you will accuse us of having broken in, having assaulted you. You will make up a whole story of what we did and there will be no witnesses to prove you wrong. No, my dear lady. We will sit right here in full view of fifty people and
discuss the matter. No tricks.'

Alkmene had not even considered the potential risks of stepping out with the heiress. Jake's experience became more valuable by the moment.

Evelyn laughed, deep in her throat. ‘You think you can call the shots?'

Jake shrugged. ‘Either you give me a very good reason why I should keep this story to myself, or you can read it in the afternoon paper. Your choice.'

Evelyn took a deep breath and then leaned back. ‘All right. But I have your word that you will not print any of what I am about to tell you?'

Jake lifted a shoulder and dropped it again. ‘I already know enough to go to print without you. I need not have come here.'

‘That is why I asked how much you wanted. Why come here, but to get money from me, more than an article can give you? I have access to funds. I can give you more than you ever dreamed of.'

Evelyn Steinbeck sounded like she was about to launch into a second round of negotiating.

Alkmene held her breath a moment. Anybody had his price, right, or so they said.

But Jake shook his head. ‘I am not after money. I want the truth for a friend.'

‘You are working for him?' She held his gaze. ‘It is all his fault the old man is dead now. If he had not shown up at the theatre like he did, it would have worked out fine.'

‘But it has not,' Jake said. ‘The old man is dead, and I want your side of the story. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You could be blamed for it all. If you want to save your own skin, you had better talk to me now.'

Chapter Thirteen

Evelyn Steinbeck took a deep shuddering breath. ‘Talking about being in the wrong place at the wrong time…' She laughed softly. ‘That was the whole thing. They assured me there would be no risk to this job. No risk!'

She leaned back and twisted the narrow gold band on her finger. ‘I am really Evelyn Steinbeck and I really am an actress from New York City. The Broadway bit is overdone. I have never been in a big show. I used to perform in small theatres in those plays where you never know if they are going to earn out and you get paid, or they have to close after a few nights and you are left with little for your trouble.'

Alkmene was sure Evelyn was only saying this to gain sympathy and hoped Jake was not falling for it. His expression didn't betray anything as he listened, his posture perfectly relaxed.

Evelyn Steinbeck continued, ‘I was performing in such a small production one night when a man approached me after the show. He said I was perfect for a part he wanted me to play. I thought at first it was on the stage, in another town maybe, but he explained it was something a bit different, with a matching price attached.'

She inhaled slowly, staring into the distance as if she saw the scene again, herself and the man on that fateful night. ‘I had to travel to England as soon as possible and pretend to be niece to some rich man. It seemed he was obsessed with finding family. If I just pretended to be the family he had wanted to find, he would be happy and I would inherit his fortune. I was a little doubtful about the legality of the thing, but the man assured me that it would be fine and nobody would be hurt by it. As the rich man had no family, his fortune would have gone to the crown and like he said, the crown was rich enough. That made a lot of sense to me.'

She reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

As if on cue Jake produced a lighter and gave her fire. She smiled briefly at him.

Alkmene suppressed an impatient sigh.

Evelyn exhaled a long draught of smoke. She manipulated the cigarette in her hand. ‘The other actors weren't happy that I quit the play like that, but I didn't care. It was a condition that I had to leave at once, get on the first boat that left for England. Everything was prepared. I came here and I was produced to the old man. That was what he called it: produced. Like a rabbit from a magician's hat, you know.'

She laughed softly. ‘The old man was surprised of course, but happy. He seemed especially impressed with a likeness he saw about me, someone I made him think of. He was sentimental, called me his dear and…'

She tipped off ashes, a little wild. ‘I guess I felt sorry for him sometimes, you know, duping him and all. Pretending to be his long-lost niece that he was so fond of. But life was fine here really. I was an heiress now, and people all wanted to know me. No more auditions for bit parts, no more plays closing on me before I had had a chance to shine. No, instead I went to parties every night, drank fine champagne, had men dying to dance with me. It was kind of funny how much a little change of
environment can do for a girl.'

Alkmene wanted to know who the fellow was – the one who had asked her to marry him behind the screen, but it seemed better not to break the flow of the story now. She had to remember to ask the question later, when Evelyn was done.

Evelyn smoked without saying anything for a few minutes, then continued, ‘I was about settled into my part, doing my bit of being American… I make a big deal of my accent, you know, because people seem to like it. Truth is, I don't talk that differently from the way you do. My mother was British for real. But the accent became part of the deal. The old man adored me, showing me off and… I tried not to think about the lies. I sort of started believing I really was his niece.'

She sighed. ‘Then one night at the theatre this man came into our box. He said that of all the injustices done to his mother this was the worst of all. That he was denied and exchanged for another. Openly. Silas was very upset upon seeing him, but they stepped outside to argue further. I was backwards in my seat to follow the discussion but with the singing going on onstage it was hard to hear much.'

Her fine eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘I do think Silas agreed to something for he came back muttering: that should settle it, settle it for once and all. He was distracted all night and the days afterwards. He went to see his lawyer a few times.'

‘Mr Pemboldt?' Jake asked, and Evelyn nodded.

She said, ‘I think they argued too, for he came back from those meetings all red in the face and shouting at everybody, even me. He didn't care that I had no idea what it was all about. I tried to ask him, but he just shooed me away. He even seemed to turn colder towards me, like…he had somehow found out I was a fake. I started to get a bit worried that I would be in trouble for having impersonated someone. That I might be better off going back to the States, before I got in any deeper. Then the night came that he died. I was out to a concert, honestly. I have no idea what happened there. I only heard in the morning that he was dead. I left the house at once because I didn't want to live there any more. I felt like it was somehow my fault that…'

She wet her lips.

Looking up at Jake, she said, ‘I guess I will just go back to America and not ask for any money from his estate. After all, I never really was his niece. But the odd thing is, when I said that, they didn't want to accept it. They are dead set on continuing the act. I don't want the money any more, but they do. They even threatened me that if I told the truth to anyone, I would end up in jail.' She leaned over the table to Jake, her eyes wide. ‘Can they really put me there?'