Shrouded In Thought (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 2) (32 page)

Chapter 30—The Tide In Men’s Affairs

“Where to, Miss Engie?” Jack asked before closing the cab door.

“To Hyperion, and tell him to hurry!”

Jack shouted her instructions to the driver and the cab took off with a jolt.

“Hyperion?” Freddie asked in surprise. “You really think Martin will go there.”

“I’m not sure, but something Serafina said keeps sticking with me.”

“Oh, here we go again. More spectral evidence!”

Evangeline tapped her foot impatiently. “Do you have a better straw to grasp at?”

“Well, not at the moment, no.” The young man cleared his throat self-consciously. “But what could she possibly have told you that would make you think he’d go there?”

Evangeline furrowed her brow with the effort of recalling the exact details. “I remember her telling me about a dream she had. She saw us standing in the middle of an island. The water around the island ran in a circle. Something like a moat around a castle.”

“I suppose there might be a connection,” Freddie grudgingly admitted. “The Hyperion factory is on the banks of the river.”

“No, it isn’t that. It’s the way the water ran round and round in a circle. I distinctly remember her words. She said, ‘Where it started, it also ended.’”

“The water?”

“Perhaps the water, but she might also have been referring to this dismal chain of events without realizing, quite literally, how apt her choice of words happened to be.”

Freddie reasoned aloud. “Yes, I see. Nora drowned in the river right beside the factory. It’s plausible that her death set this chain of events, as you call it, in motion.”

“Precisely, and if that was the episode that began Martin’s descent, then he will choose to finish things where they began.”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Freddie turned to face Evangeline as the carriage bounced along. “But why do you think he would kill himself at all? He could run away, start a new life. Take a new name.”

Evangeline smiled bitterly. “I thought so too at first. Serafina insisted I was wrong, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that starting over was the one thing Martin would never do. His family name mattered more than anything else to him. To lose that name would be the same as losing his life.”

She stopped and pondered for a moment before continuing. “Besides, if his letter is to be believed, then he hopes to prove to me that he is innocent of murder. ‘The tongues of dying men’ as he put it. He is actually trying to redeem his reputation by killing himself.”

The cab rattled along at a breakneck pace. The two occupants of the carriage could feel the vehicle slope upward on an incline and then begin to descend.

Evangeline glanced out the window. “We’re crossing the
North Avenue
bridge. It’s so dark. I can barely see anything. I hope all this clatter doesn’t alarm him, if he’s out there at all.” She shifted to the opposite side of the carriage and tapped on the roof to get the driver’s attention. “Stop here!” she commanded. He reined in the horse abruptly and the two passengers alighted. They were still a block away from the factory.

“Perhaps, if he’s out there, we can approach without attracting his notice.” Evangeline’s tone became urgent. “Hurry, Freddie! He only had a twenty-minute headstart on us, and he may have been travelling on foot.” Without waiting for her companion, who was still engaged in paying the driver, Evangeline hastily crossed the street and ducked into the shadows looming across the front entrance of the factory. She inched her way along the wall of the building until she reached the corner that fronted the river.

Freddie ran to catch up with her. “Do you see anybody out there?” he asked breathlessly.

“Shhhhhh! Keep your voice down.”

“Engie, maybe we’d better go and find Mr. Sparrow.” Freddie peered anxiously through the gloom. All he could see were ripples dancing off the river, reflecting the moon and the gas street lamps along the bridge.

“No, Freddie. If we go off looking for him, we might startle Martin. Give him a chance to run or to...” She trailed off, gathering her thoughts. “Our best vantage point is along the building down this way. Do you remember how to get to the place where the guard rail was cracked? The place where Nora drowned.”

Freddie thought a moment. “Yes, I suppose I could find it again. It’s pretty hard to see anything, but I remember it was directly in line with the loading dock. You see.” He pointed about fifty feet down the wall of the building. “Down there.” Putting a finger to his lips, he motioned for Evangeline to follow him.

They had gone no more than ten feet when a dark shape sprang off the loading dock and began running toward the river. Freddie could barely register what was happening but he could feel Evangeline’s fingers digging into his arm.

“Martin, no!” she shouted. “Don’t—”

Before she could finish the sentence, the dark shape had pressed a revolver to its temple and fired.

Freddie and Evangeline broke into a run and came upon the body of Martin Allworthy, slumped halfway over the guard rail suspended above the river. His hands now hung uselessly over the other side of the railing: the gun had fallen from his hand onto the embankment. This time the railing did not give way but held him suspended above the river like a grotesque marionette whose strings had just been cut.

“What was that noise? Who’s out here?” A voice echoed from the other corner of the building.

Freddie instantly recognized the tone. “Mr. Sparrow, we’re over here, by the river. Come quickly and bring a lantern! Mr. Allworthy has shot himself.”

“Oh, my Lord!” The watchman hobbled as quickly as he could to the place were his employer’s body hung suspended.

As he shone the lantern full in Allworthy’s face, the trio could clearly see the gunshot wound to the temple surrounded by a charred circle of powder. A small trickle of blood had begun to ooze from the bullet hole. Freddie touched Allworthy’s neck, trying to find a pulse.

He looked at the other two and shook his head. “It’s too late. There’s nothing we can do. He’s dead.”

“Oh my Lord!” Sparrow repeated. He was too shocked by the sight to move.

Evangeline took the night watchman’s arm. “Mr. Sparrow, you’ll have to call the police.”

The watchman mumbled to himself, repeating the words a few times until they began to make sense. “Mr. Allworthy’s dead... Mr. Allworthy’s shot himself. I have to call... to call...”

“The police!” Evangeline insisted. “You’ll have to call them now, Mr. Sparrow.”

“Yes... yes... I’ll...”

“Sparrow, are you out here? What was that noise? It sounded like a gunshot.” Another voice came around the corner of the building. A shadow loomed up and came into the lantern glow.

“Oh, Mr. Tinker, it’s—”

Evangeline cut in. “Mr. Allworthy’s shot himself.”

“What?” the newcomer cried in disbelief.

“Well, you can see for yourself.” Freddie stepped out of the way and let the man inspect the grisly scene.

“Mr. Tinker is the... uh... the... uh... general manager.” Sparrow managed to stammer an introduction. “Mr. Tinker, this is Mr. Simpson and Miss LeClair. They were... uh... friends of Mr... Mr. Allworthy.”

A man as round as a barrel stepped forward to inspect the remains. “Oh this is terrible! Terrible!” He found himself unable to look away from the spectacle. “Sparrow, call the police at once!”

The authoritative tone of voice seemed to snap the night watchman out of his paralysis. “Right away, sir.” He came to attention and scurried back to the factory.

Tinker stood shaking his head and staring at the remains of Allworthy. “Shouldn’t we... uh...” He made a move toward the corpse.

Freddie intervened. “It would be better if we left everything just as it is until the police get here.”

“But it seems so... so... unseemly to leave him hanging there that way.”

Evangeline concurred with Freddie. “I really think it’s best. The police will need to collect evidence, and our interference will only make matters worse.”

Tinker took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow despite the chilly night air. Apparently, he couldn’t believe the scene before him. “You’re sure he shot himself?”

“Quite sure,” Evangeline replied. “The gun fell out of his hand. You can see it just on the other side of the railing.”

Tinker craned his neck over the other side. Since Sparrow had taken the lantern with him, the only clue to the existence of the gun was the shiny reflection of metal against the moonlight. The manager sighed. “I suppose he took it all to heart and blamed himself. He shouldn’t have blamed himself though. If anybody’s to blame, it’s me.”

The two detectives found their attention riveted to the portly man.

“What was that again?” Freddie asked cautiously.

The manager glanced from one to the other, evidently not sure how much information he ought to reveal.

“You were friends of Mr. Allworthy’s?”

“We knew him far better than most people did.” Evangeline’s reply was smooth as glass. Freddie looked at her askance. “Please tell us what you mean.”

“Well, it’s just that I think he blamed himself for what happened to Nora Johnson awhile back. Why else would he choose this particular spot to do away with himself?” He looked at the couple standing before him in mute appeal.

Freddie and Evangeline looked at each other and then back at Tinker. “Maybe you can tell us,” Freddie prompted.

Tinker looked troubled. “Mr. Allworthy was a very particular man, and he took his responsibilities very seriously. Everything that touched the factory became a personal reflection on him, you see.
 
Everything good and...” The manager paused. “Everything bad.”

“But it seems a bit extreme to commit suicide because somebody drowned at his factory,” Evangeline objected.

“Yes, yes, I suppose so, and if anybody should have taken her death personally, it’s me. He couldn’t have known.”

“Known what?” Evangeline asked in amazement.

Freddie was trying mightily to forestall an urge to take out his notebook and attempt to write in the dark. He sensed something significant was about to emerge.

“Well, it’s just that the railing was faulty.”

“What!” The couple cried in unison.

Surprised by the vehemence of their response, Tinker backed away a few paces. In a mild tone, he repeated, “The railing was old, and the wood was cracked in places. It needed to be repaired.”

“And Mr. Allworthy didn’t know that?”

“No, he had asked me to make an inspection of the exterior of the factory just a week before Nora died. But, you see, I had a family emergency. I had just completed my inspection and written some notes that needed to be typed up when I had to board a train and get to
Memphis
. I was gone for two weeks and didn’t hear about the accident until I returned.” The manager rubbed his forehead distractedly. “But the worst part about it was the report.”

“Yes?” Evangeline prompted.

“You see Nora was a good typist, and she prepared all the reports for the company. I had just dropped my notes on her desk and had to leave to catch my train.”

“Did she know what was in the report?” Freddie’s hand was itching to scribble in his notebook.

Tinker shook his head sadly. “No, I’m sure she didn’t. It was just another piece of paper to her. When I got back from my trip, I discovered she’d already drowned in the river and no one had stepped in to do her job. I went to her desk and shuffled through the stack of papers.” He sighed. “I found my notes at the bottom of the pile. If only she’d read it, then maybe...”

“Did you tell Mr. Allworthy about the defective railing afterward?”

Tinker sighed even more ponderously. “I tried more than once, but could never work up the courage to tell him that Nora was dead because of negligence.”

“So he never knew about the faulty railing at all?” Evangeline asked.

Tinker shook his head. “I’m sure of it. He never knew.”

Freddie looked at his friend. She was staring off into space, tapping her chin thoughtfully. He could tell the wheels had begun to turn again but her considered response to this new fact was only a simple “Hmmm.”

The little group stood in silence a few moments longer. Their stillness interrupted only by the choppy river current lapping against the retaining wall. Freddie was about to make a suggestion that they should all return to the factory when he heard a familiar voice emerge from around the corner of the factory.

“Hello, is there anybody still out here?”

“Hello again, Sergeant O’Rourke,” Freddie called out. “It’s Simpson with the Gazette. Welcome back.”

The sergeant drew nearer, lantern in hand, to study the remains. He groaned in disgust before turning to Freddie. “This call makes four. Just between you and me, if there’s a fifth I’ll be putting in for a transfer!”

Chapter 31—In The Wake Of Disaster

It was a fair morning in July, two days after Martin Allworthy’s suicide. The birds sang and the flowers bloomed as Freddie and Evangeline walked into the funeral parlor where Euphemia Allworthy’s body was being waked.

“Why didn’t they just hold the funeral in Shore Cliff,” Freddie grumbled. “It would have been more convenient.”

“For whom?” Evangeline asked, under her breath. “All Euphemia’s friends and family are in
Chicago
. Not to mention that her burial plot was already purchased in
Gracehill
Cemetery
.”

“And what about Martin?”

Evangeline kept her voice to a whisper. “It was the general view that the less attention given to that matter, the better. He’s being buried later privately.”

The couple walked into the room where Euphemia’s casket lay. At least fifty people had preceded them to pay their respects and were waiting for the funeral procession to the cemetery to form. Evangeline searched for a familiar face and saw Euphemia’s cousin in the front row. She advanced to offer her condolences.

“Very sorry to see you again under such sad circumstances, Bessie.”

Cousin Bessie looked up mournfully and pressed Evangeline’s hand. “Thank you for coming, and for everything you did to try and make sense of this terrible tragedy.”

Freddie walked up silently behind Evangeline. At the sight of him, Bessie’s lugubrious expression changed to a smile. “Oh, hello, Mr. Simpson, so good of you to come.” She held out her hand.

Freddie took it awkwardly, surprised at the warm greeting.

“And here, right beside me, is my dear child Minerva. Who is also very grateful, I’m sure, that you have come to pay your respects.”

Freddie’s confusion increased as he noticed a blush begin to suffuse Minerva’s face. She smiled sheepishly, but the young man interpreted the smile as a grimace of pain. “Are you all right?” he asked the girl with some concern. “You look as if you’re about to be sick.”

Evangeline, rapidly preempting the social encounter about to unfold, grabbed Freddie by the arm and steered him toward the coffin. “Perhaps we ought to say our last farewell to the deceased.”

Freddie, with a backward look in Minerva’s direction, complied. “What a strange girl,” he said under his breath to Evangeline.

“You really have no idea!” she countered as the two came to stand before Euphemia’s coffin. Evangeline was struck by the composed look on Euphemia’s face. She looked very much at peace. Not at all as she must have appeared just prior to her death. Evangeline said a brief prayer on Euphemia’s behalf to the universal deity she favored. She glanced briefly at Freddie who appeared to be praying as well. No doubt to some Presbyterian Jehovah with a full white beard and lightning bolts, she thought to herself.

As Evangeline turned away from the casket, her attention was caught by a couple advancing up the aisle in their direction. It was Serafina, accompanied by Theophilus Creech. The latter gave more the impression of gliding up the aisle rather than walking. Freddie had just turned away from the coffin when he was confronted by the wraithlike manifestation of Mr. Creech standing directly in front of him. He gave an involuntary yip of fright when he saw the small egg-shaped man who seemed to have emerged out of nowhere.

“Hello, Mr. Simpson.” Theophilus shook hands with great civility and only a slightly amused smile. “I hope you’ve been well since our last meeting.”

“Y... y... yes.” Freddie managed to stammer a reply. “Very well, thank you.”

Evangeline noticed several pairs of eyes in the crowd narrow as Serafina walked up to the next of kin. A rumbling whisper had gone up in the background as gossips told their neighbors of the medium’s involvement in the demise of the dearly departed. To her credit, Bessie stood up to greet Serafina cordially, thereby silencing any speculation about how to treat the medium in future.

Serafina took Bessie’s hands in both her own. “I am most sorry for your loss, madame.”

“No, my dear. It is I who should be sorry for the disgraceful way you have been treated by certain members of the Allworthy family.” She made the statement loudly enough to be heard in the back row.

Theophilus took Serafina’s arm and escorted her to the casket to say her farewells. Evangeline nodded briefly in greeting and made way for the couple. She and Freddie took seats at the back of the funeral parlor and shortly after they were seated, a minister entered to begin prayers for the deceased. After the brief service, everyone in the room queued up to return to their carriages for the trip to the cemetery.

Blinking in the sunlight as she emerged from the building, Evangeline scanned the line of waiting carriages for Jack. She finally located him sitting patiently in the barouche, halfway down the block in the place assigned by the funeral director. He had taken the precaution of putting the top down since the day promised to be a warm one. The couple walked up to their vehicle, and Freddie helped his friend climb in. They waited what seemed an eternity for the procession to start moving.

“Did you notice that strange girl, Engie?” Freddie seemed bemused.

“What strange girl, Freddie?”

“The ugly one.”

To this comment, Evangeline made an eloquent rebuke of silence.

Freddie caught himself. “Oh sorry. Minerva, I mean. She kept turning around and batting her eyes at me all through prayers.”

“Maybe she had a cinder in her eye.” Evangeline attempted to maintain a tone of innocence.

“Cinder, nothing. She was making eyes at me. Look, there she is. She’s just coming out of the funeral home. And look what she’s doing now. She’s staring right at me and smiling! Why on earth do you suppose she’d do a thing like that?”

Evangeline knew full well the reason for Minerva’s enthusiasm, but she didn’t wish to apprise Freddie of the fact that he was going to be the main course at her next dinner party. “Freddie, you fancy every woman under the age of sixty is in love with you.”

“I certainly do not!”

“Well, whatever the case, you appear to be saved.” Evangeline gestured toward the lead carriage, where she could see Roland helping his cousin-by-marriage into the vehicle and kissing her hand as he took a seat beside her. Minerva recoiled nervously at his touch.

“Roland!” Freddie spat out the word. “Where did he come from? I didn’t see him inside.”

“I saw him arrive just as prayers ended. Today you can regard him as prayers answered. He’s bound to keep Minerva’s attentions all to himself, now that she promises to be worth a great fortune.”

“If that’s the case, I pity him.” Freddie’s voice held a note of heartfelt sincerity.

With a jolt the carriage began moving. Since speed was not a desirable goal in most processions, and in funeral processions in particular, the couple could anticipate a lengthy ride before arriving at the cemetery, a mere eight blocks away.

“Freddie, I’ve been thinking...”

“About what, old girl?”

“I had it all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Martin didn’t actually kill anyone.” She sighed.

Freddie laughed. “Don’t tell me you believed his farewell note.”

“It wasn’t the note that convinced me. It was all the little details that could be interpreted quite differently in light of what Martin said about himself. He said I gave him too much credit for courage in the follow-through. What if, all along, his principle crime was that he failed to follow through?”

“I’d say three dead bodies, four counting himself, is a pretty impressive record for somebody who never followed through.”

Evangeline barely heard him. She continued to think aloud. “All along I was searching for a remorseless villain when I should have been searching for a coward instead.”

Freddie glanced at the trees along the sidewalk as the carriage inched past them at a snail’s pace. “Well, I’ve got nothing but time on my hands. A captive audience, so to speak. Enlighten me!”

Evangeline nodded and commenced. “First, there’s the problem of Nora’s death. I was convinced that Martin had pushed her over the guard rail in a fit of spite because the portrait was meant as a gift for Roland. But there might be another way to look at things. Perhaps Nora and Martin were on good terms. The date on picture indicates it was a gift. What if it was meant for Martin, not Roland? An attempt to reassure the uncle of her affection in spite of the nephew. We can be fairly certain that Martin never knew about the faulty railing. Neither did Nora. As fate would have it, they chose the most dangerous place possible for their tryst. They must have been leaning against the railing when it gave way and Nora fell into the river.”

“With Martin standing above, watching her splash about helplessly. That must have placed him on the horns of a dilemma,” Freddie observed.

“Exactly,” his friend concurred. “Martin had always been concerned about his reputation above all else. He couldn’t afford to be discovered with Nora under questionable circumstances. Euphemia controlled the family fortune. If she found out that he went about rescuing damsels in distress in the late hours of the evening, she might ask certain questions that would expose the true nature of his relationship with Nora.”

Freddie whistled through his teeth. “She could have divorced him and left him penniless.”

Evangeline continued. “When the critical moment arrived, I believe Martin weighed his wealth and reputation against Nora’s life and found her coming up short in the balance. He hesitated at the wrong moment. He didn’t follow through, so to speak, in saving Nora but let her drown instead. Remorse must have afflicted him almost immediately afterward because he threw away her picture. If he was already haunted by guilt at his own weakness, he certainly didn’t want to be reproached by her image or the words ‘remember me always.’”

Freddie added to the theory. “And I suppose that’s where Bayne came in. He must have been somewhere nearby. Seen it happen and followed Martin home, picking up the picture along the way.”

Evangeline inclined her head solemnly. “And since Bayne had possession of the picture and could easily say that Martin pushed Nora in, whether that was true or not, Martin had no choice but to accept his terms.”

The funeral procession came to a stop at a busy intersection until cross-traffic could be forced to a halt out of temporary respect for the dead.

Freddie groaned at the delay. “Next, I suppose Martin had to try to kill Euphemia in order to keep her from asking questions about Bayne’s presence. The fact that he was out of the house when it actually happened must be his lack of follow-through.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?” The young man stared at his friend in surprise.

“I don’t believe Euphemia was the intended victim that day.”

“Then who?”

“Bayne was.”

“Bayne! I never considered that possibility!” Freddie exclaimed.

“He had to be. The pieces of the puzzle don’t make sense any other way.”

Freddie turned sideways to face his companion. His attention completely captured for the moment.

“If Martin was planning to kill Euphemia, why on earth would he leave the house and go for a walk? It was hardly a convincing alibi, especially since he wasn’t seen by anyone along the way. More importantly, it was far too chancy to leave a poisoned glass sitting on the sideboard in the dining room hoping his wife would wander in and drink it. Serafina told me Euphemia didn’t serve cordials at teatime. It was simply an accident that Roland saw the glass sitting there and got the idea of bringing the sherry in as a gesture to appease his aunt. This made the situation even more complex after Roland poured the second glass. Martin would have had to be a better clairvoyant than Serafina to predict which glass his wife would drink from. Serafina might as easily have been the victim if the poisoned glass had been handed to her instead of Euphemia—”

Freddie cut in. “But you’re forgetting about the other possibility.”

“What might that be?”

“That Roland actually killed his aunt. He wasn’t in her good graces, after all. He was in the perfect position to know who would drink the poison since he handed the glass to Euphemia.”

Evangeline stopped to ponder the suggestion a moment. “No, I don’t think so. His motive wasn’t strong enough. He had an alibi for the night of Nora’s death. If he didn’t kill Nora, then he had nothing to fear from his aunt and no real reason to kill her.”

“Oh, I suppose not,” Freddie admitted grudgingly, “but I’d still like to see him hang for something!”

“Well, another crime perhaps.”

“Then what’s your theory about what really happened the day Euphemia died?” Freddie continued to monitor their progress. The entire procession had dragged its way across the intersection at last. Four more blocks to go.

Evangeline opened her parasol. The day was becoming increasingly warm and black was hardly the best color to wear. She continued her narrative. “I’m convinced Martin intended to poison Bayne. He invited him out to the country villa on the pretext of a friendly visit. He had already reassured Euphemia that he was going to get rid of his new vice president. Little did she suspect the measures he was prepared to take to accomplish that. He could easily have poisoned Bayne while the two sat talking in the library. Martin would have been the only witness to Bayne’s convulsions and could have rinsed out the poisoned glass before calling for help. He might have explained Bayne’s collapse as due to natural causes without any mention of poison at all. Martin could say that Bayne had been complaining of poor health. There was no medical history on Bayne that could contradict Martin’s claim. It would have been unlikely for a doctor to test for poison as a cause of death unless poison was suspected in the first place.”