Butterfly Palace (19 page)
His eyes clouded. “That’s a rather far-fetched accusation. Your father had no enemies I’m aware of. Perhaps someone else was the target and your father and Mr. Hawkins were unfortunate victims as well.”
She decided to gamble it all. She nodded and leaned forward. “There were rumors of a counterfeiting operation going on in Larson.”
He blinked but betrayed no emotion. “Counterfeiting? I heard no such rumors. That’s really quite outlandish.”
She wanted to believe him. “I thought so too.”
“I am intrigued by such accusations, however. I’m going to look into it. When could we meet again to discuss my findings? I’m quite unwilling to lose touch with you now that I know you’re here in the city.”
“I’m off on Wednesday afternoon.”
“Let’s meet here for lunch in a week. I’ll see what I can find out about the fire. Perhaps I can dig up whatever evidence they have.”
What if he went to the police and heard Drew was here too? This might not have been a good idea.
T
he basement of the old building smelled moldy, and Drew sneezed as he made his way into the bowels of the counterfeiting operation. The sharp tang of ink was a familiar smell, and he could hear the clatter of the presses. He ducked under the floor joists and stepped into a large space. The low ceiling made it feel smaller than it was, and it was packed with presses. Several men were working the presses, and they briefly nodded before getting back to work. He wasn’t sure what kind of game Ballard was playing. Ian didn’t seem to know either.
Vesters swept his arm out to encompass the room. “This is my little operation.”
“It doesn’t look so little.” Drew wagered there was more than a quarter of a million dollars in counterfeit money stacked around the space. “First off, you need more space. We could easily double the number of presses.”
Vesters opened his mouth, but Drew held up his hand. “I know you haven’t had distribution outlets for more cash, but let me remind you I have the resources.”
Vesters smiled. “Excellent. I have a building in mind. It’s an abandoned barn, two levels and out in the middle of nowhere.”
Drew calculated how long it would take to get his associates
in here. He needed a stack of money for proof too. Stepping to a nearby table, he picked up a couple of bills. “Can I start with this?” He shook his head, answering his own question. “This is too wet.”
“This way.” Vesters beckoned him toward a doorway on the far side of the basement. Through the door was an office with a desk and a large wooden filing cabinet. One of the men yelled for Vesters. “I’ll be right back.” He shut the door behind him.
Drew put his ear against the door, but it was too thick to be able to hear more than muffled voices. He turned back to stare around the small room.
Stacks of money were bound together and lined the walls. More money lay on the desk. Drew pocketed a couple of bills quickly. His glance fell on a stack of papers. Vesters was still talking to one of the workers so Drew pulled the top paper toward him. It was a document about distribution of the counterfeit money. He memorized it and moved it back into place. When he did, another paper dislodged and floated to the floor. When he picked it up, the first sentence of the second paragraph leaped out at him.
Marshall will be shot as he leaves the party. Have an alibi ready.
“What are you doing?” Vesters snarled from the doorway with a gun in his hand. He stepped to the desk and snatched the note from Drew’s hand.
Drew shrugged. “I happened to see it, that’s all. But you don’t have to worry about me giving anything away. I want to see him brought down myself.”
Vesters frowned. “I don’t believe you.”
Drew leaned forward. “Believe this. It’s his fault my father is dead, and I mean to have revenge. We’ll see who kills him first.”
Vesters stared at him as if trying to see what made him tick.
“You are staying at Marshall’s, and now you’re telling me you want him dead? Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe.” The gun in his hand never wavered.
“From the outside you seemed to be his friend as well. No one will suspect either of us when he turns up assassinated.”
Keeping the gun level, Vesters shook his head. “I either trust you or kill you, Hawkes. I haven’t quite decided which one yet.”
Drew picked up a stack of bills. “I’ll take this money and prove myself. When you have fifty thousand dollars in your account, maybe then you’ll trust me.”
“A friend of mine has vouched for you.” He stared at Drew for a long moment, then put the gun atop the desk. “Okay.” He picked up a satchel and began to stuff it with stacks of money. “You’ve got one month.”
“And then what?”
“Then we execute our plan for election night.”
Election night. It made perfect sense. “And then the governor will appoint someone to take his place. You?”
Vesters shrugged. “Everyone will be focused on finding out who killed him, and my appointment will skate under the radar.”
“Isn’t that a little risky? Lots of people around. I want him dead, but I don’t want to hang for it.”
“We have a foolproof plan.”
“
We?
Who else is in on this? You’re smart and I know you would have thought this out, but I’m not so sure about your partner, whoever he is.”
“All in good time.” Vesters zipped shut the satchel and shoved it across the desk to Drew.
Lily was used to a large group at the dinner table, but when she carried in the soup, the flickering candlelight showed only the Marshalls, Belle, Mr. Lambreth, and Mr. Vesters. Belle sat next to her beau, and he leaned on one arm as he talked with her. Their close conversation made Lily uncomfortable.
Biting her lip, she set down her burden and went back to the kitchen. Cook was pulling individual pies from the oven. The delicious aroma of cinnamon and apples made Lily’s mouth water. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The day had been much too busy.
Lily wiped her hands on her apron. “What next?”
Mrs. O’Reilly took a pie from Cook and set it on the sideboard to cool. “I really must hire a new kitchen maid. We’re so shorthanded, but no one seems to want to work in the kitchen. The city is terrified of that killer. I would even settle for someone to help only with dinner.”
“I’d take someone like that too,” Cook said. “I can’t continue to do this by myself.”
“We’ve all pitched in to help.”
“Of course, Mrs. O’Reilly.” The cook bent over the oven to retrieve another pie.
Lily looked toward the door. “I sent a note to the young woman I mentioned, Jane White. She should be here anytime.”
“Is she a hard worker?” Cook dusted her hands on her apron. “I won’t have any slacker around my kitchen. And can she cook too?”
“It would be good if she could start at once,” Mrs. O’Reilly said. “We could use the help with tomorrow’s dinner party.”
“I believe she would be a hard worker.” Lily turned toward a timid knock at the back door. “That is likely Jane now.” She smiled reassuringly at Jane through the glass in the door before she opened it. “I was just talking about you. Come in.”
Dressed in a demure gray dress with her hair scraped back, Jane
stepped into the kitchen. Her gaze darted to Mrs. O’Reilly, then veered back to Lily as if to take strength from her.
Lily took her arm and pulled her toward the housekeeper. “Mrs. O’Reilly, this is Jane White.”
She looked Jane over. “What experience have you had?”
Jane clenched her hands in front of her. “I was the assistant cook for the Karrs.”
“I know of them. It pleases me you can actually cook. So I can assume you know how to make delicacies such as duck and puddings?”
Jane brightened. “Yes, ma’am. Cook was ill quite often with the rheumatism, and I cooked about eighty percent of the time.”
“Quite good. Can you provide references?”
Jane’s smile vanished. “I—I don’t think so.”
“You were let go? Why?”
Jane hung her head. “I had a baby.”
Mrs. O’Reilly gasped and dropped onto a chair. “I see.”
Lily curled her fingers into her palms. “Please give her a chance, Mrs. O’Reilly.”
“I’m a good worker, ma’am. Let me prove it to you.” Jane’s voice was hoarse. “I can start tonight.”
“How old is your child, and who will care for it?”
“She’s six months. I’ve found a young girl in the neighborhood who has agreed to care for her while I’m at work. My brother will help some too.”
“Is she weaned? She’s very young to be left alone.”
Lily took hope at the housekeeper’s caring words. “If she did some of the cooking, you could attend to running the household. Finding a good cook’s assistant has been very difficult.”
“I know that better than you, Lily.” Mrs. O’Reilly continued to stare at Jane. “Well, answer the question.”
Jane swallowed. “No, ma’am, she isn’t weaned yet. But I’ve started feeding her a wee bit of mashed potatoes and porridge.”
Mrs. O’Reilly sighed. “I don’t hold with a mother leaving her children.” She pressed her lips together. “But I desperately need help. How far away do you live?”
“About half an hour on foot.”
“Too far.” The housekeeper sighed again. “There is one possible solution, but I will have to speak to Mrs. Marshall about it. There is a small house on the back side of the property. It’s not in very good shape, but if Mrs. Marshall is agreeable, you could stay there. It would be close enough for you to feed your baby when necessary.”
Jane’s eyes widened. “I will work hard for you. You won’t regret it.”
“It’s not done yet. I will have to tell all to Mrs. Marshall. She may decide she won’t employ you, Jane. You must be prepared for that as well.”
“Yes, ma’am. When might I hear an answer?”
“She’ll be in here in a few minutes to let me know when to serve dessert. I shall talk to her then. You may wait in the butler’s pantry in case she wishes to speak with you personally. Lily, show her where that is.”
“This way.” Lily led Jane to the small room and shut the door behind them. “There’s something we didn’t discuss, Jane, and I’m not sure what to do about it. Mr. Vesters is often here. In fact, he’s dining with the Marshalls tonight.”
Jane went white. “He’s here?” She backed away until she was against the wall. “I can’t see him!”
“There’s no real reason for you to run into him. He wouldn’t enter the kitchen. But you should know Miss Belle is entertaining him as a suitor. It’s possible she might marry him.”
“Oh, she mustn’t, Miss Lily! He’s an evil, evil man.” Jane clutched Lily’s arm. “You must warn her.”
“I’m her maid, Jane. I can’t tell her who to marry.” The panic on Jane’s face unsettled Lily. Maybe she should at least try to warn Belle. “What could I say if I warned her? Do you have any specific accusations against him?”
Jane’s hand dropped away, and she ducked her head. “Nothing anyone would believe.”
“I would believe you.”
Jane’s chin came up and she blinked. “You’re a good woman, Miss Lily. I know people think I was his mistress, but it wasn’t like that. Not exactly.” She bit her lip. “He came to see my brother, but Nathan was gone. H-He stayed the night. Mrs. Karr told him he could.” Tears shimmered on her lashes. “I was afraid Nathan would lose his job, so I–I went along with it. And with every other night he came by, even though I wanted to run there was nowhere to go.”
Poor girl. Lily couldn’t imagine being in a situation like that.
“He should at least be paying for Hannah’s support. Have you tried to get him to provide for her?”
“No, miss, I wouldn’t dare.”
Lily squared her shoulders. “Well, I would. And I’ll take the first opportunity to approach him. If he’s fearful of the truth getting to Belle, perhaps he will assume his responsibility at least.”
B
elle’s face hurt from the fake smile she’d pasted on all evening. She drew her shawl tighter against the late October chill. Listening to Stuart boast of his accomplishments should have helped her decide to accept him if he proposed, but instead, she found herself wishing she could be anywhere but beside him.
She sipped the last of her apple cider as Lily removed the remains of the small apple pie. “It was delicious.” Glancing at Lily, Belle frowned. Was that pity in her eyes? She knew her maid thought her political aspirations were unworthy, but she’d fire the girl before she let her look at her that way.
She swept her lashes down to cover her irritation. “Shall we retire to the salon, Mr. Vesters?”
“I’ve told you to call me Stuart.” He pushed back his chair, then pulled out her chair and took her hand to escort her from the dining room.
His hand was slightly sweaty, and she disliked his touch on her skin. Smiling, she managed to hide her distaste. “Would you prefer to smoke with my uncle?”
“I’d much rather talk to this lovely lady.” He squeezed her hand and smiled.
Her aunt smiled her direction and added a conspiratorial wink. Belle frowned, hoping the expression meant nothing important. But when her aunt and uncle made excuses not to join them, her pulse began to throb against her temples.
