Murder at the Breakers (21 page)

“Or,” Derrick put in, “Jack somehow found out about the murder weapon, retrieved it from the playhouse, and confronted the killer here with it. Someone who knew he owned this house, who maybe wouldn’t have thought twice about being invited here.”

Both men regarded me, their silence all but shouting the words that went unsaid.

“Neily,” I whispered. “But if he thought nothing of being invited here, why would he have brought a gun?”

“For all we know, Emma, Neily might have taken to bringing a gun with him everywhere these days.” Derrick shrugged apologetically. “Maybe he’s feeling penned in and desperate.”

I realized Jesse had turned away to speak to two other officers. Upon hearing my cousin’s name mentioned, I grasped Jesse’s forearm. “Wait one minute. What about Theodore Mason? He had a motive to kill Alvin Goddard, who accused him of stealing from The Breakers. And he should have been here with Jack. Someone needs to find him.”

Jesse agreed. “We need to find both your cousin Neily and Mr. Mason. Right now. Neither one can be overlooked as a suspect. In the meantime, I want you both out of this.” His face became stern. “Understand, Emma? No more investigating. You leave this to me and my men.”

I nodded, and Derrick said, “I’ll see she gets home.”

“I can’t go home yet,” I objected. When Jesse’s expression became exasperated, I quickly said, “I have to see Brady, tell him what happened. He deserves to know, Jesse. Jack Parsons has been as much a part of his life as mine. And my parents . . . I’ll need to wire them the news. . . .”

“I don’t believe it, Em. Not Neily and not Mason.”

I reached through the cell bars to take my brother’s hand. “I don’t want to believe it either, but don’t you see what this means? You’ll be exonerated.”

“Maybe . . . maybe not.”

“But once they have the real murderer—”

Brady shook his head. “That’s just it. Mason? Neily? Come on, Em. You know as well as I do that neither is capable of harming a fly. This will be just one more distraction to keep the police busy while the real murderer gets away. Maybe he’s already away. Might have left the island right after killing Jack on one of those fancy steamers the Four Hundred are so enamored of. No, Em, Jack’s death won’t help me at all. It only makes everything that much grimmer. . . .”

“It’s not like you to give up hope, Brady.” My voice trembled. Tears burned my eyes.

“Well, I didn’t so much give it up as run out of it, along with my luck.” He smiled bleakly, a gesture that had become so familiar I’d all but forgotten how brightly his genuine smile could shine. “And you have to admit, I’ve had more than my fair share of that. More than I deserve.”

I left the jail feeling so defeated I could hardly gather two words to say to Derrick as he walked me to my buggy. All I managed was a shaky, “Thank you,” before expecting to go our separate ways.

“I’ll follow you home.” He gestured to his own rented carriage parked behind my own.

“Oh, no. You’ve done enough. I’ll be fine.”

“I think not. Until this investigation ends with the guilty party behind bars, you’re not safe. I said I’m following you, and follow you I will.”

I couldn’t help a smile, albeit a weak one. “Thank you, Derrick. Thank you for believing me when I say my brother is innocent.”

“Yes, well, you seem to have a good nose when it comes to people. If you trust that he didn’t do it, that’s good enough for me.”

He smiled down at me, and for an instant I thought—half hoped—he might kiss me again. But the moment stretched too long, and I saw my own self-consciousness reflected in his eyes. He stepped back, offered me an arm, and helped me up into my buggy. As good as his word, he followed me all the way home, up the drive, and through the front door. But if I’d thought we might share a private moment before he left, I was greatly mistaken.

At a speed of which I hadn’t believed her capable, Nanny waddled out from the kitchen. “Well? What happened?” She stopped, drawing her bulk up straighter, a hand pressed to her bosom. Behind her half-moon spectacles, her eyes went wide. “Good heavens, Emma, is that blood?”

“H
ere, Nanny, have another sip of tea.” Leaning beside her chair in the morning room, where Katie had set out refreshments for the three of us, I lifted Nanny’s cup and tried to press it into her hands. Derrick sat to her right, letting his tea grow cold while patiently answering all of her questions, sometimes three and four times. Despite all my assurances to the contrary, Nanny continued to fret.

“If either of you had gotten to the house earlier than you did . . . you might have walked in on a murder . . . Oh, God, Emma, you might have been killed!” The last word dissolved into a hiccupping sob.

I rubbed a hand soothingly up and down her broad back. “We didn’t, Nanny. We’re both perfectly fine.”

It was as if she didn’t hear a word I said. “Oh, I should never have let you become involved. I shouldn’t have helped you. We both should have left well enough alone.”

“Well, I’m out of it now.” Straightening, I set her tea back down and resumed my seat to her left. I covered her softly wrinkled hand with my own. “The police have narrowed it down to two suspects and they’ll be questioning both to see if either has an alibi. I won’t have any more to do with it.”

“Neily or Teddy . . .” Nanny dashed her knuckles beneath her eye and shook her head. “I can’t believe either could possibly be guilty.

Derrick lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Based on everything I’ve learned since coming to Newport, my money’s on Theodore Mason as the guilty party.”

“Under the circumstances, I agree,” I said. “Neily could never hurt anyone, not for any reason. I believe he’ll have a solid alibi. But still, the idea of Mr. Mason—”

As I spoke, the service door swung inward and Katie shouldered her way through carrying a tray of toast and biscuits. She froze, gaping, framed by the doorway; her astonished gaze traveled to each of us around the table in turn.

“Wh-what is that you’re sayin’, miss?”

“We’re discussing Alvin Goddard’s murder, Katie,” I said calmly, knowing it took little to upset the girl.

“And Jack Parsons,” Nanny added with a heavy sigh. “Poor Mr. Parsons. Your father will be crushed when he hears, Emma.”

I wondered, not very nicely, whether Jack’s death would manage to elicit the response from my parents that Brady’s arrest hadn’t. No sooner had the thought formed, however, when I tried to push it out of my mind. Now was not the time for resentment or recriminations. Any further thoughts I might have had on the subject were abruptly cut off when Katie all but slammed the tray onto the table, sending the biscuits bouncing and a few crumbs flying.

“But what about Mr. Mason?” she cried, ruddy color climbing from her neck to her hairline.

I ignored the mess she’d made of the table and met her eyes, fever bright against her blush. “I’m sorry to tell you that Mr. Mason is the foremost suspect now, Katie.”

She began shaking her head, slowly at first, then quicker, adamant. “No, he can’t have. He can’t.”

Her obvious distress sent me to my feet. “None of us want to believe it, Katie, but Mr. Mason was the last person to be with Jack Parsons, and now he’s gone missing. And he had a motive. Alvin Goddard accused him of theft, leading to his being fired from his position at The Breakers.”

“No, no! He didn’t do it! He didn’t. Please, Miss Emma, you’ve got to believe me. You have to tell the police! You have to . . . he’s an innocent man . . .”

Tear ran down her cheeks. I exchanged a glance with Derrick, who looked mystified. Circling the table to her, I set a hand on her shoulder, pulled out a chair, and pressed her down into it. She slumped forward, her face falling into her hands

What could she possibly know about Alvin Goddard’s murder? My hand still on her shoulder, I sat in the chair beside hers and spoke close to her ear. “Katie, listen to me. We need you to explain. How do you know Mr. Mason is innocent?”

“I can’t say . . . I can’t . . .”

“You have to, Katie. If he’s innocent, you have to help him. You can’t let him be accused of a crime he didn’t commit.”

Her head slowly came up and she turned toward me. Her palms were wet, her cheeks flaming and tearstained. “I know where Mr. Mason was when Mr. Goddard died.”

“Well, where?” This came from Nanny, and I glared an admonishment across the table for her to hold her tongue and let me handle things.

“Don’t be afraid, Katie. You’re among friends here.” I felt her trembling beneath my hand; her shivers traveled up my arm and tugged at my heart. Katie herself had been through a horrendous ordeal only that spring, including losing her own employment at The Breakers for something that wasn’t her fault. Trusting her employer couldn’t be easy, even now. “You have nothing to be afraid of,” I said quietly, as one might soothe a frightened child. “Didn’t I help you when you needed it? Haven’t you found a good home here with me?”

Her tears only fell harder. “Oh, that’s just it, Miss Emma. Once you know the truth, you’ll cast me out . . . and I’ve nowhere else to go!” That last ended on a wail, so loud Nanny and Derrick flinched. I, however, held steady.

“That won’t happen, not if you tell the truth. Now, Katie, I want you to take a deep breath and simply tell me what you know. For Mr. Mason’s sake.” And yet even as I coaxed her, my stomach tightened around a growing dread. Exonerating Mr. Mason might very well transfer the guilt to Neily. But the truth, whatever it was, needed to come out. “Where was Theodore Mason when Alvin Goddard died?”

“Here,” she whispered, so low it might have been a hiss of steam from the teapot. But the tea had surely turned tepid by now.

“What did you say?” Nanny frowned in puzzlement. She and Theodore Mason were old friends, but if he visited that night, she obviously knew nothing about it.

Katie raised her hands to wipe at both cheeks. “Mr. Mason came here that night . . . to see me.” She flicked a glance at Nanny. “Mrs. O’Neal was already in bed. . . .”

“But why did Teddy come here?” Nanny demanded.

I waited, suddenly unable to speak, to move. Instinctively, I sensed a piece of the mystery, an elusive piece I never could have envisioned, about to fall into place.

“He came because he figured out”—she drew in a deep breath, the air trembling through her lips—“it was me.”

I snapped back as if she’d struck me across the face. “You? You . . . murdered . . .”

“No, miss! I don’t know who killed Mr. Goddard . . . but I do know who stole the figurines from Mrs. Vanderbilt’s parlor.” Her fingers clenched into fists in her lap. And then the gates broke to release the torrent. “It was me, miss. Not Mr. Mason. Oh, he never stole a thing. He couldn’t, he’s an honorable man. I did it. I stole them because I knew I’d lose my job. Once my condition showed, I’d be sacked without a reference. No one would believe it wasn’t my fault, and I’d be out on the street with nowhere to go, no one to help me . . . I’d need money for a place to stay, to feed my child . . . I didn’t think anyone would notice those tiny figurines missing—that house is so filled with riches.”

She turned her face toward me. “And then you took me in, miss, and I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell anyone. I wanted to return the figurines, I swear I did, but I didn’t know how without gettin’ caught. I didn’t want to go to jail, I didn’t . . .” Her sobs overcame her and she wept into her hands, her shoulders shaking violently.

“Where are the figurines?” I removed my hand from her shoulder. She raised her eyes toward the ceiling and I realized Aunt Alice’s missing bronze pieces were hidden away in Katie’s attic bedroom. “How did Mr. Mason discover that you had them?”

“He said it started as a hunch.” Her gaze drifted around the room while she avoided eye contact with each of us. “He’d suspected, and one day he met Lucy in town.”

Lucy was another young housemaid in the Vanderbilt’s employ. She and Katie had shared a room in the servants’ quarters.

“He asked Lucy a bunch of questions about who had access to Mrs. Vanderbilt’s parlor once the decorators were done. You see, only she was supposed to have been cleanin’ in there. I was a kitchen maid, and I wasn’t allowed to be in the family’s private rooms on the second floor. But Lucy, I suppose fearin’ she might be held to blame for the missing figurines, admitted to havin’ me help her on a few occasions. The family was away at the time, so we didn’t think anyone would mind. But Lucy, she didn’t know . . .”

When she hesitated, staring down at her hands again, I prompted, “Lucy didn’t know what, Katie?”

“She didn’t know then I was in the family way. She didn’t know I’d be losin’ my job soon. She left me alone in the parlor and I pocketed some of the figurines, and moved others into their place so maybe no one would notice.”

Silence filled the room. I gazed across at Nanny, whose features had pulled into a tight scowl.

“You let Teddy take the blame,” she began, but I held up a hand to shush her.

“Please, Nanny. Now isn’t the time for recriminations. It isn’t easy for Katie to come clean, but she’s doing it for Mr. Mason despite the potential risk to her own future.”

“But why would Teddy keep her secret? He lost his job because of her.”

Nanny’s question sent our attention back to the quietly weeping Katie. With an effort, she pulled herself up straighter. “Mr. Mason took pity on me when I told him why I did what I did. And he knows I send money home to my family in Killarney every month. Mr. Parsons had already given him a new job, he said, and he had no desire to go back and work for the Vanderbilts after the way they accused him. He felt betrayed, don’t you see. So he said he’d keep my secret if he could.”

“He can’t keep it any longer, Katie,” I said firmly. “If he says he was here that night, the police will want to know why.”

“Oh, please, miss, don’t send me to jail. . . .” The plea came as a whisper that stabbed clean through to my heart. If there was one thing I understood about Katie, it was that she came to this country after a childhood defined by the kind of poverty the poorest American could scarcely imagine.

“I have no intention of sending you to jail,” I told her. “We’ll return Aunt Alice’s figurines, of course, but Uncle Cornelius won’t press charges once I’ve had a chance to speak with him. But that’s for later. Right now we need to get this information to Jesse before he and his men arrest the wrong man.” I looked up. “That’s if they haven’t already.”

Derrick was already on his feet. “I’ll go. There’s no reason for you to go traipsing back into town. You have enough to take care of here.”

I had started to rise, but his words sent me back into my chair. “Thank you, Derrick.” Across the table, our gazes locked. “But there’s still a murderer out there. Please be careful.”

“I will. And you’re very welcome,” he said, his quiet sincerity resonating deeply inside me.

“Are you sure you two will be all right for a little while, Nanny?” I asked about a half an hour later. She and I stood in the front hallway as I readied myself for a short trip to Bellevue Avenue.

Nanny gave a confident nod. “I have no doubt the girl will sleep the rest of the afternoon. That confession of hers took a lot out of her.” Her lips pursed in a show of disapproval.

“Don’t be so hard on Katie. Put yourself in her place. All alone in a strange country, her family so far away. What was she to do?” It occurred to me that I’d never told Nanny what I’d found out from Reggie. “Her pregnancy . . . oh, Nanny, it wasn’t her fault at all.”

Her expression remained unyielding. “Did she tell you that?”

“No, Reggie did. It was one of his school friends who visited last spring. He forced her, Nanny.”

Her arms, until now crossed in front of her, dropped to her sides. Her mouth lost its severity. “She never said anything. . . .”

“No, why would she? The woman is always blamed no matter what.”

“Damn,” she whispered. And then louder, “Damn. That changes everything. It’s still not right letting Teddy take the blame for the theft, but . . . I guess I understand now.”

“And you’ll be nice to her if she wakes up and I’m not here?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be nice.” But her frown returned. She raised a hand and pressed it to my cheek. “Are you sure you want to go out alone? As you said to Mr. Anderson—”

“Yes, I know a murderer is still at large, but I’m not going far and it’s still broad daylight.”

“Well, all right.” Her hand moved to pat my hair, then adjust the ribbon of my hat. “And you don’t think you’ll need moral support while you talk to her?”

My gaze dropped to the floor and I shook my head. “No, this is something I need to do alone. Friend to friend. I want Adelaide to hear it from me before the rumors start flying.”

“And what if her husband is around to overhear?”

“Highly doubtful. But if he is, I’ll suggest Adelaide and I take a walk in their garden.”

I was halfway through the door when the telephone jangled. Nanny shuffled to the alcove to answer it and I waited, hoping it might be news from Jesse or Derrick.

“Yes, she’s here,” Nanny said loudly into the mouthpiece, at the same time waving a frantic hand at me. I hurried back inside. She practically shoved the ear trumpet into my hand when I reached her. “It’s Mr. Anderson.”

“Derrick?” I, too, practically shouted across the wire. “Have you found Mr. Mason?”

“Emma, listen to me,” he said briskly, ignoring my question. “Theodore Mason wasn’t the last person to be with Jack Parsons. Rupert Halstock was.”

“What? But that’s impossible. He’s too ill.”

“Is he? Mason didn’t think much of it at the time, but as he left the Point to run his own errands, he plainly saw old Halstock’s carriage pull up at Jack’s house. I questioned Mason myself after the police finished with him. I fancy myself a pretty good judge of people and I really didn’t get the sense that he was lying. Besides, why would he, now that Katie supplied him with an alibi?”

“Then that means—”

“We’re not sure what it means yet. They’re looking for Halstock now. Apparently he’s not at home yet. Jesse sent out a couple of officers to check, and they found his wife there but not the old man.”

“Oh, God, Derrick. Did they tell her what was happening? What happened to Jack?”