Shrouded In Thought (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 2) (21 page)

Evangeline ignored the young man’s misery. “I think the next step would best be performed by me.”

“Do tell,” Freddie drawled. “You mean you’re actually prepared to get your gloves dirty?” He tried pounding his arm against the granite facade of the bank in the hope that he could shake the plaster away from his skin enough to alleviate the itching.

“Stop that, Freddie. You look ridiculous!” Evangeline took her friend by the arm and started to lead him up the street. Standing too long in front of the bank with a man beating his arm against the wall might draw attention. The lady regarded the young man coolly. “The next bit of detecting requires a feminine touch.”

Freddie sensed a veiled insult. “Why? Don’t you think I can handle it?”

“I’m sure you could, if you put your mind to it.” Evangeline smiled sweetly. “I just thought that the idea of flirting with Roland might be distasteful to you.”

At the mental image of making up to Roland, Freddie lost all impulse to scratch. He grimaced in distaste. “You actually think you’ll get him to admit anything?”

Evangeline shrugged noncommittally. “My money is still on Roland as the killer. I don’t know that he’ll blurt out a confession, but being a ladies’ man, his greatest weakness is that he likes to cut a dashing figure in front of an admiring female.”

“Bear in mind that you’ll be flirting with a murderer, Engie.” A note of worry crept into the young man’s voice.

“He may be a murderer, Freddie, but I’d be willing to bet he wouldn’t try to strangle me in broad daylight with witnesses around. And I certainly don’t intend to lead him to a secluded rendezvous.”

“Well, I suppose it’s worth a try. What do you expect him to say anyway?”

“I’m not sure. Some hint, some clue that he drops unawares. All I have to do is get him to start talking.”

With a shudder, Freddie thought back to the infamous dinner party, when he was closeted with Bayne and Roland over cigars and brandy. “Get him to talk, by all means, just don’t ask him to sing!”

Chapter 19—Chanson De Roland

“Mr. Waxman, are you in?” a young man standing in the open doorway inquired.

“Hmmm? What’s that, Perkins?” The old tycoon with the white muttonchop whiskers looked up from his paperwork.

“I asked if you were in, sir. There’s a lady who wishes to speak to you.”

“A lady?” Waxman asked absent-mindedly. “Is it my wife?”

“No, sir.” The secretary stepped forward and handed his employer a calling card. “The lady wished me to give you this.”

Waxman adjusted his spectacles to read the card. “Miss Evangeline LeClair. But I don’t recall... Oh, wait a minute. Yes, I do. Send her in, Perkins. Send her in.”

“At once, Mr. Waxman.”

The door closed briefly and then reopened to admit the lady herself. A confection in pink silk with a frilled parasol, she stepped forward into the paper-cluttered inner sanctum of the man of affairs. She held out a dainty gloved hand in greeting. “So good of you to see me without prior notice, Mr. Waxman.”

“Yes, Miss LeClair, to be sure, to be sure. Very pleased to see you again!” The old man walked around his desk and solicitously helped her to a chair, afraid to tax so rare and delicate a creature with the effort of seating herself.

When he saw her comfortably settled, he resumed his place. “But seeing you again, Miss LeClair, puts me in mind of a far happier occasion before tragedy struck.”

Evangeline sighed. “Then you’ve heard the news about Mrs. Allworthy?”

“Couldn’t help but hear about it. Poisoned, eh?”

“Yes.” Evangeline averted her eyes.

“I heard they arrested that medium.” Waxman shook his head in puzzlement. “Just can’t make sense of it. Miss Serafina seemed a nice enough young woman when we met. Soft-spoken and ladylike. Well, I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover. It’s a sad day for all of us when you can’t even trust your houseguests not to do you in unawares! I tried to call Martin to offer my condolences, but his office said he’s still up in Shore Cliff.”

“Yes, I imagine he’ll be staying there until the funeral arrangements are made. Did you send Roland back up to join him?”

“The very minute I heard the news.” Waxman hoped Evangeline wouldn’t infer that his haste in offering to dispatch Roland was prompted more by self-interest than by friendly concern.

“So he’s gone to be with his uncle?”

Waxman shook his head. “Martin wouldn’t hear of it. Said the boy was better off here, minding the store so to speak.” The businessman tried mightily to suppress a note of regret in his voice.

“Well, that’s good to know...”

“Miss?” Waxman looked at her uncomprehendingly.

“Oh, nothing.” Evangeline struck off in a new conversational direction. “Just listen to me, wasting your valuable time and not telling you the purpose of my visit. You see, I’m in a quandary, Mr. Waxman, and I hoped that you might be able to help me.”

Waxman’s chivalrous instincts came to the fore. “Yes. I’d be happy to help, if I can. What is the nature of the problem?”

Evangeline looked as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “Excess capital, sir, that’s what’s the problem.”

“Well, well. In all my life, I’ve never heard it described as a problem before.” The tycoon’s interest was piqued.

Evangeline laughed airily. “Oh, but it is, Mr. Waxman. It is! You see, I have unfortunately inherited sacks and sacks of money and have no idea what to do with it all.” She looked utterly helpless and appealing. “I really do need some guidance to invest it wisely.”

Waxman gestured toward the windows behind his desk, which looked out on the bustling activity of
State Street
. “Perhaps some real estate?”

Evangeline flashed a winning smile. “Why, sir, you are a quick study! That’s exactly the reason I’m here. I’m interested in acquiring some additional property in the city that I might rent out, and I hoped your firm could assist me. I thought
Lincoln Park
might be an up and coming area. You do have a few buildings there, don’t you?”

“Only too glad, Miss LeClair, only too glad to help.” The old man leaped at the opportunity. “I’m sure I can arrange to have one of the fellows take you around this afternoon and show you a few places.” He rose and was about to go to the front office in search of a salesman when Evangeline stopped him.

“Here’s an idea!” she cried. “I wonder if it would be possible for Roland to show me the properties you have for sale?”

The businessman froze in mid-stride. He turned incredulously to look at his visitor. He adjusted his spectacles to get a better look at her face since he couldn’t quite believe his ears. “I’m sorry, but I thought I heard you say Roland.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Evangeline smiled serenely. “Is he available?”

Waxman scratched his head in perplexity. He stammered, “Are... are you sure? Roland? You do mean Roland Allworthy?”

The lady nodded her head.

Waxman’s bafflement was of such magnitude that it temporarily deprived him of the power of speech. When he did speak, all he could manage was a plaintive “But why?”

Evangeline laughed. “Oh, surely, Mr. Waxman, it’s no mystery. I know Roland. I’ve met him on more than one occasion. Overwhelmed as I am when confronted by matters of business, I’d just feel more comfortable in the company of a person I already know.”

Waxman stood immobilized a moment longer, impaled on the horns of a dilemma. He wanted to show his properties to their best advantage, which, as a matter of course, meant sans Roland, but he did not want to offend a potential customer. He heaved an immense sigh and walked out the door, feeling a fat commission slipping through his fingers as he did so. “I’ll just see if I can scare him up, Miss LeClair,” he said half-heartedly.

“Oh, that would be lovely,” the lady enthused.

***

Later that afternoon, after looking at several townhouses which she rejected as being too big, too small, too dark, too light, too noisy, too quiet, too cheap or too expensive, Evangeline had exhausted Roland’s inventory and his lackadaisical interest in making a sale. She finally had him where she wanted him.

“Why don’t we just take a stroll in the park?” she suggested. “ I think I’m too done in to make a decision just now anyway.”

The young man’s bored demeanor immediately transformed itself into a smile of genuine pleasure. He offered his arm to escort Evangeline away from the raucous commercial streets. “At your service, Miss LeClair, to the ends of the earth, if necessary.”

Smiling invitingly, the lady took the proffered arm, and the couple strolled toward the
Lincoln Park
Zoological Garden
. “Oh, aren’t the flowers lovely.” She pointed to the rows of summer blooms that lined the walks. The conservatory, which housed a collection of exotic plants, stood to their left. Evangeline led in that direction with Roland, enthusiastically, in tow.

As they stepped into the humid, tropical air of the conservatory’s fernery, Evangeline pretended to notice for the first time the black armband that Roland wore over his coat sleeve as a grim reminder of his aunt’s death. It seemed entirely out of keeping with the rest of the apparel he had chosen—a light linen suit and a straw boater. The suit was expensive and carefully tailored. The shirt was raw silk and the sleeves studded with gold cufflinks. Evangeline speculated that if Roland had shown the same meticulous devotion to matters of business that he displayed in matters sartorial, he would be have been a millionaire in no time.

Indicating the armband, she said quietly, “I’m sorry about your aunt. Mr. Waxman said that Martin didn’t want you with him up in Shore Cliff.”

“Uncle didn’t seem to feel the need to have me nearby to console him in his time of sorrow.” There was a slight hint of sardonic humor in the youth’s voice. “He said he wanted me to keep an eye on the townhouse while he’s away. That’s just fine with me.”

“Aren’t you sorry your aunt is dead?” Evangeline deliberately kept her tone of voice casual.

Roland shrugged. “I’m sorry it was Miss Serafina who did her in. I heard she was arrested. Much too pretty to be a murderer.” He shook his head with regret. “Then again, auntie was all right, and it’s too bad that she’s the one who’s the dearly departed. It’s uncle I don’t much care for. He’s always going on about the family honor until I feel as if my head is going to explode. He’s a crashing bore.” Roland yawned languidly, no doubt remembering his last lecture from Martin on the subject. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Let’s talk about you.” Roland roguishly tilted his head to get a better look under Evangeline’s hat brim.

As she returned his gaze, Evangeline noticed an unruly lock of hair had escaped the confines of his boater and flopped over his right eyebrow. He looked all of eighteen. Summoning up whatever faint enthusiasm she could muster, Evangeline smiled. “And what could you possibly want to know about me?”

“What’s a lovely lady like you doing unattached? You know you could have your pick of any fellow in this city.”

“That’s very flattering, Roland, but just because I might have my pick, doesn’t mean I’m in any hurry to make a choice.”

“So much the better for me.” The youth smiled in self-satisfaction. “I’m still in the running.”

Evangeline decided not to set him straight on the matter of just how far out of the running he actually was. Instead, she maintained a tactful silence as they wandered through the ferns and palms and examined the celebrated fiddle-leaf rubber tree. Eventually, they found themselves at the entrance to the summer flower exhibit. The blooms were dazzling—a living rainbow of color. Red roses, shocking pink geraniums, and yellow marigolds all clamored greedily for the attention of the eye.

As they stepped through the door of the exhibit room,
 
Roland paused and, without warning, snapped a sprig from a crimson hibiscus plant. Smiling jauntily, he handed it to Evangeline. “Allow me to present this as a tribute to your beauty.”

The lady looked at him reproachfully. “It hardly seems fitting to ruin one form of beauty to honor another, Roland.” She took the flower and placed the broken blossom back gently in the pot where it came from. “Besides, the gift wasn’t in your power to bestow, was it?”

Unfazed by the rebuke, Roland shrugged. “I guess I’ll just have to find some other way to catch your fancy.”

Evangeline’s gaze swept appraisingly over her companion. “Serafina was certainly right about you. You like the ladies, don’t you?”

Roland threw back his head and laughed. “Like isn’t the right word, Miss LeClair.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Or may I call you Engie, the way Freddie does?”

Evangeline bit back the retort she would have preferred to make and responded evenly. “Of course you may call me Engie, if you like.”

Encouraged, Roland stepped closer and folded her arm under his to escort her forward. “Oh, I do like...” He squeezed her hand ever so slightly. “...Engie.”

Evangeline, incensed at his audacity, decided it was time to go in for the kill. “Did you also like Nora Johnson?”

Her words caught the youth off-guard. He stopped dead in his tracks, at a loss. “Nora? My God, I haven’t thought about her in weeks. Poor Nora.”

Evangeline simply stared at him. “You didn’t answer my question.”

For the first time, Roland seemed flustered. He looked at the ground. “Sure, I liked Nora just fine. Liked her so much, I think that’s why uncle fired me.”

“What?” Evangeline was taken by surprise. They resumed their walk through the flower exhibit. An artificial waterfall trickled somewhere in the distance. The scent of lilies hung heavily in the air.

“I told you how he was forever harping on about the family honor.” The youth rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I got a proper lecture about, how did he put it, ’forming an attachment beneath my station in life.’ Yes, those were his words. The pompous windbag!” Roland muttered the last sentence under his breath. “Well, I wasn’t about to give up the game just because uncle didn’t like my choice of lady friends, so I kept on seeing her until...”

“Until he fired you?”

The youth grinned ruefully. “That’s about the size of it, though he’d never admit that’s what he did or why he did it. He just found me a job with Waxman because he said he thought I could utilize my talents better elsewhere!”

“Did you continue to see Nora after you left Hyperion?”

At her question, Roland’s jaw became set. When he turned to stare directly at her, Evangeline thought she saw a dangerous challenge in his eyes. “Let me tell you something, Engie. I don’t like having my fun spoiled by anyone, especially not by him! I decide when it’s over, and it’s never over until I say so!” His eyes bored into her face with a ferocity that shocked Evangeline. The intensity lasted only a moment and then Roland caught himself. He shrugged and attempted a casual smile. “Besides, I couldn’t resist the urge to tweak the old goat’s whiskers!”

“What do you mean?”

Roland chuckled, apparently quite pleased with himself. “I mean that I kept on seeing her on the sly after I got my walking papers. She liked it at first, but then she started acting cold toward me. She said it would be better if we didn’t see each other anymore. She told me that just a few days before she had her... accident.”