A Proposal to Die For (15 page)

Jake frowned. ‘I suppose that by “they” you mean the people who hired you to play Norwhich's niece?'

She nodded. ‘I thought they would agree that I had better leave now that Mr Norwhich is dead. They cannot touch me back in America. I would not even go back to New York City. I would try another city – easy enough if they gave me some money. But he yelled at me that it was even more pertinent now that I played the part and did it well. He was out of his mind.'

‘He?' Jake queried. He leaned closer and touched her hand.

Alkmene cringed at the move, but supposed it was part of his game to win the girl's trust. As a reporter he probably had few qualms about applying tactics to get information. Play the nice, concerned semi-friend. All tricks of the trade…

Evelyn looked up at Jake, her lips wobbling. Her mascara was a little smudged, as if she had blinked back tears during her story. ‘If I tell you, he will be so mad at me.'

‘I already know too much. I could go to the papers anyway and…'

‘You told me you would not.' Evelyn tried to snatch back her hand from under his grasp, but Jake tightened it.

Her face went pale, either with shock or pain from the pressure applied.

Jake said, ‘I owe you nothing, but I do owe my friend a great deal. Now tell me who the man is – the man who put you up to all of this.'

Evelyn swallowed audibly. Then she said in a whisper, ‘Mr Pemboldt. Silas Norwhich's lawyer.'

Chapter Fourteen

‘Can you imagine that?' Alkmene burst when they had left the perplexed ex-heiress at her breakfast table with her half smoked cigarette. ‘Pemboldt, Norwhich's own lawyer, hired the girl to play his niece, while he knew, outright
knew
, she was not the right heiress. Why on earth would he do that? How can he benefit? Aw…'

She froze on the pavement, and Jake grabbed her arm, looking down. ‘Broke your heel?' he asked cynically.

‘No, I forgot to ask who proposed to her behind the screen. If that was Pemboldt, he was after Norwhich's fortune all the time. But the fellow I heard talking sounded younger, a bit arrogant, you know, not a stick of a lawyer…'

‘I won't even bother to ask what on earth you are referring to,' Jake said with a snort. ‘I just want to see that fancy Mr Pemboldt and let him explain it all. It's perfectly legal, he told her, and that being a lawyer…' He shook his head.

‘She also didn't say who the major was,' Alkmene continued out loud. She could just slap herself for having forgotten to ask all these important questions. But after the name Pemboldt had been uttered, her mind had whirred with reasons why, motives, alibis, the whole lot, and she had forgotten all about the proposal behind the screen and the major mentioned in that conversation.

Now she understood better why the police at times followed up on fake clues, pursuing one angle, while not seeing other elements that were right under their noses. There were so many elements to a case, and the picture kept shifting like a kaleidoscope.

‘Say…' She hurried after Jake, who had resumed walking again to Pemboldt's offices off Brook Street. ‘If you ever eloped, where would you go?'

‘Why would I elope?' Jake asked with a frown. ‘I don't have to ask for anybody's permission to marry.'

‘Just for the sake of analysis. If you eloped, took a girl on the run to marry her without her family's permission, where would you go?'

Jake waved a hand. ‘I don't know. I'd take the Orient Express probably and decide on the way what stop I'd get off at. Plenty of possibilities, each with its own advantages.'

Alkmene smiled to herself. See. Gretna Green was for amateurs.

Jake glanced at her. ‘You would not elope with some cad of a lord, would you? Nah, you would not have to. Your father would love the cad of a lord and agree to the marriage on a whim.'

Before Alkmene could protest he pushed on, ‘We can't expect this shrewd lawyer Pemboldt to cave as easily as dear Evelyn has. She believed that I already knew a lot about her and the whole impersonation scheme, but Pemboldt is smarter than that, and if he has blood on his hands, he will be desperate to deny it all.'

‘Well, you can't always have it easy,' Alkmene said, a little vicious because of his ‘dear Evelyn'. ‘Perhaps you should go with her to America. Not for a career in journalism in New York City, but to try
your luck on the stage. You play “understanding” with real flair.'

Jake hitched a brow at her. ‘Jealous?'

‘Of course not. You just manipulated her for your own gain. One moment you were luring her with sugar water, the next you about twisted her wrist.'

‘It got us what we wanted, didn't it?' Jake pointed ahead. ‘The offices of our scheming family lawyer. What are we going to say?'

‘I will announce myself as Lady Alkmene and ask for some legal advice on a delicate matter. It's amazing how much space people suddenly have in their schedule when you can produce a title. Then once we are in there, he is all yours.'

Jake rolled his eyes at her, but he let her go in ahead of him and announce herself at the desk with the clerks. They were immediately taken into a neat waiting room where a grandfather clock ticked away the minutes and a poster on the wall reminded them that a will prevented family strife.

Alkmene sat down and nodded at it. ‘That is one thing my father doesn't have to worry about. Family strife after he is gone. There is just me.'

She glanced at Jake. ‘Same thing for you, I suppose.'

Jake sat upright, staring in the distance, probably rehearsing his part. She wanted to probe what his plan was, but the door had already opened and the senior clerk took them to see Mr Pemboldt.

Upon entry Alkmene realized two things. No way was Mr Pemboldt Evelyn Steinbeck's suitor. No young woman would cast a second look at the short man with wrinkled face, rimmed spectacles and almost no hair.

And how on earth had he travelled to America to find her and take her out here? He didn't even look able to get up from behind that desk and greet them. He swayed a little as he stood, and the hand he extended was shaking.

He had to be eighty!

Jake seemed to be taken aback by the wiry figure as well. He seated himself and cleared his throat. ‘I uh…'

‘We have heard that you are a very good lawyer,' Alkmene cut across him. A somewhat gentle touch was needed here. If Jake twisted this old man's arm, they might have another corpse on their hands! ‘Mr Silas Norwhich was so happy with your services.'

Pemboldt shifted his weight. His expression was inscrutable, but then as a lawyer he had probably trained himself to show no emotion whatsoever.

He said stiffly, ‘I have served his family all my life. His father before him and then he. It was an honour to do so.'

Jake leaned his elbows on his knees. ‘Yes, family… That meant a lot to Mr Norwhich. You found his niece for him. The long-lost relative he had been looking for.'

Pemboldt blinked a moment. He reminded Alkmene of the reptiles in the London Zoo, patiently waiting on their branches, looking sluggish and harmless, until they suddenly moved with lightning speed to snatch their prey. If he had set up the entire impersonation scheme, he was more dangerous than he looked.

The old man said, ‘He was very happy when we found her for him.'

‘Just so he could have an heir?' Alkmene asked.

Pemboldt smiled. ‘It was much more to him, Lady Alkmene. His money wasn't his concern foremost, but…doing what was right.'

‘Do you believe he died, knowing he had done it?' Jake asked. ‘The right thing, I mean.'

Pemboldt looked pained. He leaned back, considering his answer before he spoke. ‘I am not sure. He died suddenly and…in a shocking way. It is very painful for me to discuss, because of my office's long service to his family. I trust you will understand this. I would like to hear, Lady Alkmene, how I may serve you. I heard it was a delicate matter?'

Alkmene smiled. ‘It is very simple, Mr Pemboldt. Mr Norwhich told my father how happy he was that you had tracked down his niece and reunited them. Apropos, I believe you did not travel to America yourself to find her?'

‘No, a very promising young lawyer from my firm did. Fitzroy Walker.'

Alkmene shocked upright. FW… The one who had given the golden locket to Evelyn Steinbeck? The man who had also proposed to her?

Pemboldt said, ‘My gout doesn't permit me to make long journeys any more. I prefer to stay here and see that the business continues to run properly. My staff is excellently equipped to handle the interests of our clients.'

‘I did hear…' Alkmene said slowly, as if she was reluctant to share a bit of gossip, ‘that the man in question, this Mr Walker, your employee, was pursuing the young lady's affections. I do find this a little…unconventional, considering the way in which they met and the official capacity he had towards her.'

Mr Pemboldt reddened. ‘They have spent time together in America and during the journey back here and that might have put the idea in the young man's head, but I assure you the young lady has reminded him of his place and their relationship has never been…anything worth mentioning.'

Alkmene was certain Mr Walker didn't hold this view.

Jake sat half turned away from them and the conversation, looking at a cabinet with gleaming trophies along the wall. ‘I see you have been in the army, Mr Pemboldt. India, I think?'

Pemboldt smiled; he suddenly seemed to grow. ‘Yes. Several campaigns. Lovely country. Great climate, nice people. Excellent polo fields.'

Alkmene asked, ‘Your rank was major?'

Pemboldt nodded. ‘How do you know?'

‘I once heard Ms Steinbeck refer to you as the major.'

Pemboldt flushed again. ‘That is a most irritating habit of Mr Walker's. He started to refer to me that way, and the entire staff followed his example. I assure you I try to discourage it, but you know how young people are these days. It is not what it used to be any more.'

Alkmene nodded polite agreement, but her mind raced. So the major, being Pemboldt, might not have given the money if Walker married Ms Steinbeck. That all fitted together. They were on the right track here. The question was, how much had Pemboldt known of what Walker was doing?

When he had just denied that the personal relationship between Walker and Ms Steinbeck was anything serious, had he been lying to cover up an illicit affair?

Or did he really believe it was over, while Walker had kept on pursuing Ms Steinbeck without his employer's knowledge?

Jake said, ‘I suppose your time in India taught you about subterfuge? I mean, you must have been
cunning to survive out there.'

Pemboldt seemed to relax again as if this topic of conversation was safe. ‘I guess you could put it that way. I always tried to find a solution for the problem at hand, yes. The best answer to a tricky situation.'

‘And finding a fake heir for Silas Norwhich was the best you could do?' Jake's tone had not changed; it was still pleasantly conversational, as if he was simply continuing the theme of India.

But the old man paled under his words and was staring at him in shock.

Jake continued, ‘Ms Steinbeck is no more related to Mr Norwhich than I am, or Lady Alkmene here. She was only…shall I say,
cast
, to play the part. I am sure that was the best you could do, Mr Pemboldt, but I admit that I am hard pressed to fit your “solution” with your proclaimed loyalty to the family you served for so many years.'

Pemboldt kept staring. His lips began to tremble. He reached for the bell on his desk to ring for one of the clerks, probably to see them out.

But then he pulled his hand back again, his fingers shaking.

He breathed deep, then pushed both of his hands to his face. ‘If only he had not died that night. Then it would have worked perfectly.'

Jake cast a glance at Alkmene. She signalled him to give it a moment and wait if the old man went on of his own accord.

Pemboldt pulled his hands down and looked at them. ‘What do you want with this? Make a scene? Ruin my firm? Ruin the young lady also? I can assure you that Evelyn Steinbeck is innocent of any form of bad intent. She had no idea what she was getting into when she agreed to be part of this.'

Alkmene shook her head. ‘We are not here to hurt anyone. We are only interested in finding Mr Norwhich's killer.'

Pemboldt bit his lip. ‘So you do not believe that he fell and struck his head either.'

Jake shook his head. ‘He was murdered. We want to find out by whom and what for. If you really served his family well, Mr Pemboldt, and have a sense of honour, you will help us now.'

Pemboldt stared at his trembling hands. Then he said, ‘Yes, I must. But you must promise me this. If nothing of it need come out in order to catch the killer, you will keep everything I am now about to tell you to yourself. No need to slander a dead man.'

Jake nodded. ‘I agree. I give you my word. The matter will remain entirely between the three of us, unless details of it are vital in unmasking the killer and bringing him to justice.'

Pemboldt nodded. ‘Very well then. The thing is this…' He took a moment to focus. ‘Mr Norwhich was obsessed with the idea he had an heir somewhere in the world. He himself never had any children, but he had had a younger brother, a rather wild young man, who caused no end of trouble to the family. One summer he was staying in Cunningham…'

Alkmene perked up and looked pointedly at Jake.

Pemboldt didn't seem to notice, staring into the distance as he reminisced, ‘A little town in Dartmoor. There he fell in love with a local girl. Now he was known to fall in love at whim, profess undying affection for the girl and then fall in love with another. So his family didn't take his letters home very seriously. Unfortunately, as things go in life, this time it was different. He had really fallen in love and he secretly married the girl. She was pregnant when he left her to go see his family in London, promising to be back again soon and buy them a little house with a rose garden.'