Fallen Women (12 page)

“But she had money, didn’t she?”

“That’s the terrible thing I did.” Beret glanced down at her hands, too ashamed to look the detective in the eye. “You see, I talked with our guardian. I confided what had happened, told him Lillie was at fault. He’s a priggish man, unctuous even, and he was always anxious to please me. I have thought he might even have hoped I’d marry him after Teddy was gone. Perhaps that’s why he was so anxious to do my bidding. I told him Lillie should be cut off until she saw the error of her ways and apologized, and that’s exactly what he did. He found some reason or other to justify it, a morals clause that was in the will as a matter of course. Lillie didn’t know she should protest. Uncle John—Judge Stanton, that is—would have told her what action to take, but I suppose Lillie never discussed it with him. It was abominable of me to have done what I did.”

“But understandable,” Mick said.

Beret looked at him, surprised again at the sympathetic words coming from a policeman. She sipped at the brandy. “It wasn’t quite as bad as you think. I didn’t mean for her to be cut off forever. I wanted to teach her a lesson. I thought she’d return, be contrite, beg me for forgiveness.”

“Grovel, you mean.”

Beret thought that over. Had she been so reprehensible? She nodded. “Yes, I suppose that’s it.” She looked into her cup at the tea. “I missed her so. I didn’t miss Teddy so much, but I missed Lillie. She was the one I’d loved most. I loved her, and I hated her at the same time. Can you understand that?”

The question was rhetorical this time, but nonetheless, the detective answered, “Yes.”

“Really?”

Mick shrugged. “So the two of them came to Denver.”

“That’s the odd thing. Lillie came by herself. Teddy stayed in New York, thinking I’d take him back. He sent me flowers and jewelry. All very expensive.” She gave a laugh. “I know, because the bills came to me.”

“Did you consider taking him back?”

The question was forward, but Beret saw no reason not to answer it. She had told him everything else. “Not once. My love for him died when I opened that bedroom door. My parents had been wrong about him; he was far worse than Father had imagined. Teddy was greedy and selfish, and he was ugly inside. He took pleasure in my humiliation. Do you know what he did when I discovered him in bed with my sister?” Beret thrust her chin forward, her eyes limpid, a look of utter desolation on her face. “He laughed.”

“Miss Osmundsen…”

“No. I’ll tell you all of it. He told me I was old, dried up, an embarrassment to him with my plain clothes and mugwump life. He said he and his friends laughed at me, that he’d married me only for the money. Of course, he took it all back later on when he realized he had nothing on which to live. But it was too late. I’d seen him for what he was. I had a very good lawyer. Teddy didn’t get a penny. Of course, Lillie…” Here Beret’s voice faltered. “As I said, I arranged for her to be cut off, too, and I suppose I’ll go to hell for it.”

“Perhaps you’ve already been there,” Mick said so softly that Beret barely heard him.

“No, but Lillie has.”

Mick asked if she wanted more brandy, but she declined. They were silent for a long time, until Mick asked, “So they came out here?”

“Lillie did. As I said, Teddy stayed in New York until he realized I wasn’t going to take him back. Then he disappeared. I had no idea he’d followed Lillie to Denver. I knew that she was with Aunt and Uncle, of course. My aunt wrote me when Lillie arrived. She knew the two of us had had a falling-out, and she told me we ought to make amends, that we were family and could not let a misunderstanding, no matter how serious, come between us. Family is very important to her, because my aunt and uncle have no one but Lillie and me—that is, me now. But after a while, she stopped mentioning Lillie in her letters, so I supposed she’d figured out what had happened. Or maybe Lillie told her, probably not all of it, but enough so that they knew. They hadn’t liked Teddy, either. I’m sure they blamed him.”

“But he came here eventually.”

“Evidently.”

“And do you think that was when she moved into Miss Hettie’s?”

Beret shook her head. “I don’t know. Of course, Teddy knew where she was. He surely was the dark-complexioned man seen talking to Lillie. And it seems my sister gave Teddy money. He must have made her think she was responsible for my divorcing him. I hate him for that. But whether he introduced her to Miss Hettie, I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Miss Hettie.”

“
We’ll
have to ask,” Mick corrected her.

“Yes, of course.”

“You won’t go there by yourself, will you?”

Beret smiled for the first time since they had entered the restaurant. “Not this time of day, Officer McCauley.” The tea and brandy had warmed her, and she unbuttoned her jacket.

“Do you think your husband, your
former
husband, killed your sister?”

Beret considered that for a long time. “I’ve wondered that since the girl from Miss Hettie’s told us she’d seen Lillie with Teddy. I never would have thought he was capable of such a thing, although I would like him to be the one. Perhaps he is. It seems obvious, doesn’t it?”

“Unless he was in a poker game.”

Beret gave Mick a disdainful look. “Do you believe that?”

“I’ll check it out.”

“Yes, of course.” She ran her tongue over her teeth. “He has a temper, but at heart, he’s a weak man. I don’t think he has”—Beret considered her words carefully—“the
gumption
to kill anybody. And if Lillie was giving him money, why would he murder his meal ticket?”

“Maybe she refused to support him anymore.”

Beret nodded. “That could be.”

“And maybe he discovered she was pregnant. Dr. Death … that is, the coroner, thinks she was four or five months along. Has your husband been here that long?”

“That would have happened after she left New York, since she had been gone a year.” Beret thought back. “Teddy was in New York four months ago. I remember that because it was All Saints’ Eve, when so much mischief is done. He came by the house, asking me to change my mind. And I saw him in December, on the street near the mission. He was with a woman, a prostitute, it appeared, and he turned a corner thinking I wouldn’t see him, I suppose, but I did. I don’t know if he was in New York all that time. He could have come to Denver, then gone back East.”

“Or maybe someone else was the father of your sister’s child.”

“The legendary rich man who is going to leave his wife?” Beret almost laughed. She picked up her cup and sipped, but the tea was cold, and she set it down. Immediately, the waiter appeared with a fresh cup and poured hot tea into it. “It seems that if she had been at Miss Hettie’s for only three months or so that she was pregnant before she turned out. It happened when she was living with my aunt and uncle. That means it couldn’t have been a john, so it must have been Teddy—unless she met someone after she came to Denver, one of the Summers men perhaps.” Beret pondered that. “Do
you
think Edward killed Lillie?”

Mick looked down at his hands. “I don’t know. It’s not unheard of, a mac murdering a working girl.”

Beret winced at the words.

“But what was his motive? There’s only one person I can think of with a real motive to want Lillie dead.”

“Who?” Beret frowned.

Mick stared at her a long time. “You.”

“Me?” Beret’s hand holding the teacup shook, and she looked up, startled.

“You’ve just told me you hated her, that she ruined your marriage.”

“But I was in New York at the time. You know that.”

“I do, but you could have hired someone. It wouldn’t be unusual with your mission work to come across a man who would be more than happy to kill your sister for a railroad ticket and a few dollars. And as you’ve said, you have more than a few dollars.”

Beret was horrified. “Surely you don’t believe that. I wanted to humiliate her, not kill her. I may have wanted things on my terms, but I never hoped she would die.”

Mick held his hands in front of him, the fingers pressed together. “Does it make sense? Yes. Do I believe it? No. I think whoever killed your sister knew her. The murder was too vicious, too personal. A hired killer would have stabbed her once, maybe twice, but not eight times.”

“But you haven’t dismissed the idea of my culpability entirely.”

“No.”

“And what can I do to convince you of my innocence?”

“I suppose you could help me find the killer.”

Beret smiled a little. “Then you accept my help?”

“I have no choice, do I?”

“No, you don’t.” Beret stared at Mick until he looked away. “Do you think we should talk to Joseph Summers next?”

“I do, but not until another time. You’ve had enough for one day.” He looked around for the waiter but instead caught the eye of the woman he had nodded to earlier. She and her companion were on their way out of the restaurant, but she stopped when she saw Mick looking at her, and when the man accompanying her paused to greet someone, the woman walked to the table. “Why, hello, Mick. I’d have come to give you my regards earlier, but you were so engaged in conversation, I’d thought you might be interviewing a murder suspect.” She laughed at the absurdity of what she’d said and turned to Beret. “He has such a ghastly occupation, don’t you agree?”

“Why, I do agree,” Beret said, amused.

Mick had stood when the woman approached the table, and now he said, “Caro, may I present Miss Osmundsen of New York. Miss Osmundsen, this is Mrs. Decker.”

Caroline stared hard at Beret, and said, “You are Lillie’s sister, then. I did not know she had one. I am so sorry. You must forgive my insensitivity at making such a crude joke. Lillie was a lovely girl.”

“You knew her?” Beret asked.

“Through Judge and Mrs. Stanton, of course. I called on them after her death. Not many did, I’m afraid. But I always cared for Lillie. She was such fun, so lively. We all adored her.”

Beret was touched and liked the woman immediately, thinking her kind to have overlooked the last months of Lillie’s life and her grisly death to extend condolences to the Stantons. She was not surprised others, not knowing what to say, had shunned her aunt and was grateful to the woman that she hadn’t smirked or exchanged glances with the detective when she realized who Beret was. “Thank you. I know my aunt and uncle were crushed at my sister’s death. As was I.”

“Are you staying in Denver long?”

“I’m not certain.”

“Well, I hope so. We hope to take you up, don’t we, Mick? We’ll try to occupy your mind with something besides your sorrow.” She touched her gloved hand to Beret’s shoulder, then turned to Mick. “We’ve missed you.”

He bowed his head slightly to acknowledge her words. “I’ve been busy.”

“Well, I hope you solve this dreadful murder.” She nodded at Mick, then turned to Beret and said, “Miss Osmundsen,” and joined her companion, leaving behind the scent of perfume. Mrs. Decker whispered something to the man with her, and he turned and waved at Mick.

“Decker.” Mick nodded in acknowledgment.

“She’s very gracious. I like her,” Beret said. “Who are they?”

“Decker is a banker, rather stuffy, with a small fortune of his own. He invests his money—hers, too—and I’m sure he’s good at it. Her father’s a very successful mining investor.” He paused. “His name is Evan Summers. Caro’s brother is Joey.”

Beret’s head shot up, and she looked for the woman, but Caroline was gone.

“Mrs. Decker is Joey Summers’s sister,” Mick repeated.

A look of disgust came across Beret’s face. “She seemed like such a nice woman.”

“She is, not at all like her father and brother.”

“How do you know her?”

“We grew up together.”

“You mean just as you grew up with the bartender at the Arcade?”

Before Mick could answer, the waiter set a check on the table near Mick. He picked it up, but Beret said, “That is my expense, Detective.”

“Not at all,” Mick said.

“Please. Charpiot’s is a very expensive restaurant. I do not mean to insult you, but I know what a detective is paid, and I don’t want you to have to eat beans for the next week to make up for your kindness to me.”

Mick took out a gold coin and set it on top of the check. “You cannot keep picking up the restaurant checks, Miss Osmundsen. I believe I should clear up a misunderstanding. I do not live on a detective’s salary. My father might have been an Irish immigrant, but he was a very successful one. He owns hardware stores in Denver and Leadville. My parents move in the same circle as your aunt and uncle. I can well afford to pick up the tab for tea and brandy at Charpiot’s. In fact,” he added with a sly smile, “I could even afford to buy you dinner here.”

“So, you are wealthy. Then why do you work as a policeman?”

“Why do you work in a mission?”

Beret mulled that over as she rose. “To be of service. I am of that group of people who believe that with wealth comes responsibility.” Then something occurred to her. “Your wealth puts you among the smart set of Denver’s young people. You must know Joey Summers personally?”

“I do.”

Beret took her inquiry one step further. “And my sister, did you know her?”

“I met her.” He paused a moment, then taking Beret’s elbow, steered her toward the door. “But I did not recognize her body when I first saw it. She was covered in blood, and to tell you the truth, I didn’t know she lived at Miss Hettie’s. I didn’t know who she was until we went through her trunk and came across your aunt and uncle’s names.”

Beret thought about that as she pulled on her gloves, straightening them over the backs of her hands. She asked suddenly, “Most men who met Lillie fell in love with her. Were you one of them?”

Mick studied her for a long time, before he said, “No.”

“Are you now?”

“Miss Osmundsen, your sister is dead.”

Chapter 8

No more snow had fallen while the two were in the restaurant, but the wind had picked up, and Beret shivered as she left the overheated building. The day was ugly. Denver, too, was ugly, she thought, raw and unrefined, too new yet to have much style. Clouds hung over the city, holding down the smoke that came from the coal- and wood-burning stoves and turned the air dingy. The wind blew dried leaves along the streets. A newspaper swirled overhead and swooped down on Beret, attaching itself to her back like an angry bat, and she flailed about trying to remove it, but the paper held fast.