Murder at the Breakers (23 page)

The blows stopped, bringing all too temporary relief, for in the next instant her hands clamped my throat and squeezed. Gasping, I clawed at her wrists, a futile effort as Adelaide was far stronger than me. Her golden curls fell wildly into my face and her weight pinned me to the ground, immobilizing me . . . though not quite all of me.

Instinctively I thrust my arms outward and groped through the grass, hoping against hope to find the fallen pistol. Adelaide’s shrieks reverberated in my ears. My breath rattled and scraped in my throat. My senses swarmed dizzily; a dull blackness began to envelop my vision. My body growing numb and my mind fading into oblivion, I used the last of my strength to stretch my hands out farther still. . . .

The fingers of my right hand closed around smooth, cylindrical metal, warmed slightly by the sun. I tightened my fist, raised my hand high, and brought the butt of the weapon crashing down on the back of her head.

“Emma!”

The cry drifted across the lawn, so faint surely I’d imagined it. Adelaide’s body crumpled and she slumped heavily on top of me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see past the tangles of her hair. My throat seized against my efforts to drag air into my lungs. I tried pushing Adelaide off me, frantic to be free, feeling as though I was entombed in a fragrant, silken grave.

“Emma!” the shout came again, this time closer, convincing me it wasn’t wishful thinking. I tried to call out, but I couldn’t seem to open my throat. Instead, I lay gasping, wheezing, my throat searing with ragged pain.

I heard them before I saw them, a rumbling procession barreling across the lawn. Then all at once Adelaide’s weight came off me as she was hauled away by two officers in dark blue uniforms. The next thing I knew, I was sitting up, still gasping for breath, but little by little the air reached my lungs. Someone I couldn’t see supported me from behind.

As I coughed and sputtered, Adelaide groaned, then seemed to spring back to life with startling speed. Bolting upright from her prone position on the grass, she first looked about her. The two policemen each gripped an upper arm, one on either side of her. She tugged and kicked and screamed, and I vaguely wondered how she found the energy. I certainly couldn’t form a word around the arduous task of drawing breaths in and out, and trying to gain control over my trembling limbs.

She fought on, though, even tried to come to her feet. She almost made it, but stumbled and sank back to the grass. The officers didn’t relax their hold on her until a third policeman snapped a handcuff on one of her wrists. She tugged for freedom even as they wrestled her hands behind her and secured the other wrist.

They eased their hold slightly, and only then did the furor drain from her limbs and torso. As I looked on she seemed to sag into the ground, the furious sparks fading from her eyes.

“It was her,” she said weakly. She raised her chin in my direction. Tears streamed from the eyes I’d once admired. “It was Emma. She did it. She did it all. . . .”

Her accusation made no impact on me other than to rouse a wave of pity. Nor did it faze the officers, except to make them roll their eyes at her ridiculous claim. With a hand at each elbow they raised her to her feet. I attempted to stand up, too, but my knees refused to cooperate.

Those hands that had been supporting me, that I’d all but forgotten about, moved away from my shoulders and then strong arms encircled me from behind. A familiar voice rumbled quietly in my ear. He’d been speaking all along, but I only now became aware of the words. “Emma, Emma, my God . . . did she hurt you? Are you injured, sweetheart? Can you speak?”

I turned my face until warm lips met my cheek. “I’m all right . . . I think.”

“You were so brave.” Something between a laugh and a sob caught in Derrick’s throat. “And here I was thinking I needed to come rescue you.”

My stomach flipped pleasantly at those words. “How did you know I’d be here?”

I shuddered against his chest and his arms tightened around me. “I’m not even sure why I decided to check in on you from town, but when I called your house, Mrs. O’Neal told me where you’d gone. And I thought . . .” Releasing me, he scrambled around to face me, his hands once more gripping my shoulders, no longer quite so gently. “What were you thinking? Have you learned nothing in all of this?” His voice boomed in my ears, making me flinch. “How could you be so reckless?”

On any other day I’d have scowled and told him he wasn’t my keeper, that he had no right to speak to me like that and I could take care of myself. And I
had
taken care of myself, hadn’t I? But I’d stumbled over two dead bodies that day, had almost been thrown from a cliff, shot, and strangled, not to mention learning I’d been betrayed by not one, but two old friends. I’d more than reached the limits of my fortitude. Tears filled my eyes. Derrick’s face blurred.

Before I could get out a word, his hands left my shoulders, this time to cup my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Emma. Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to sound so angry. It’s just . . . you’re so damned headstrong.”

His fingers grazed the swelling left by Adelaide’s knuckles. His brows drawn in a scowl, he pressed my good cheek to his shoulder. I sighed and leaned a moment against him as I gathered what I could of my composure. Finally, I lifted my head, frowning. “How did you know Adelaide would be a danger to me?”

“The coroner found a clue the police had overlooked earlier.” He rocked back on his heels a little and reached into his pocket. In his palm lay a shiny brass button. “See the
A
embossed on the surface? What the police suspect is that after Adelaide shot Jack at close range, he stumbled into her. They must have struggled before the wound overcame him, and he managed to tear it from her carriage jacket and hide it away in his coat pocket before he died. We brought it to compare with the buttons on the jacket she’s wearing now.”

“You mean Jack deliberately left a clue behind?”

“Looks like it.” The officers had begun half walking, half dragging Adelaide toward the house. Derrick called to them. “Did you check her jacket?”

They came to a halt, one of the examining the front of her fashionable, peplum jacket, now stained, dusty, and hanging askew from her shoulders. He nodded back at us with a grim expression. “Missing,” he confirmed.

They continued toward the house as another dark-clad figure rushed past them in Derrick’s and my direction. In another moment I recognized Jesse. When he reached us he practically skidded to a halt on the grass and fell into a crouch. “Emma. Why on earth are you here?”

“Jesse, please,” I began.

Derrick spoke over me. “Don’t. You’ll just feel like a cad for scolding her. Take my word for it.”

Jesse’s hand came up to gently touch my cheek. “That’s going to hurt. Are you all right otherwise?”

“As right as I can be at the moment.” I shook my head and tugged at my collar. “I don’t think she did any permanent damage. Oh, but what about Mr. Halstock?”

“Alive, conscious now, but dazed.” Jesse shielded his eyes from the sun as he glanced back up at the house. “My men have him resting inside now. I sent one of them for a doctor.”

“Jesse, Adelaide admitted she’s been poisoning him,” I said. “Trying to kill him so she could inherit his millions.”

Neither Jesse nor Derrick looked at all surprised. “He doesn’t have quite so many millions these days, apparently,” Derrick said. “That’s the only reason he’s still alive. He’d have been dead weeks ago, except that Cornelius initiated the buyout of the New Haven-Hartford Providence line. She was trying to halt the sale and salvage what was left of her husband’s fortune by selling off the stock while it was still worth something. Only then would she have killed him.”

“How do you know all that?” My question came out sounding like an accusation.

“Halstock’s sister, Suzanne Rockport, suspected Adelaide was mixed up in her husband’s finances and in this railroad deal in particular. She didn’t realize Adelaide was poisoning the man, but she feared Adelaide would take advantage of Rupert’s illness to either manipulate him or have him declared incompetent. That’s why she asked me to investigate.”

Something about his explanation niggled, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was that didn’t sit quite right. My thoughts tossed in logic-blurring chaos. I shook out my skirts and began to shift my feet underneath me. “Help me up.”

Both men made a grab for the hand I extended; Derrick clasped it first. Jesse moved out of the way as he rose, but not without a little slant of his eyebrow aimed at Derrick.

I swayed and Derrick’s arm slid around my waist.

“I’m all right,” I insisted. “Just give me a minute.”

“I could carry you,” he offered.

“Don’t you dare,” I retorted, but with a smile to soften the admonishment.

Jesse smirked and flanked my other side. “Emma, I guess it’s high time to head back to the station and set Brady free.”

My heart did a little dance. “Goodness, in all this turmoil I’d nearly forgotten the reason I became involved in the first place. Can we go right now? Derrick, will you come, too? Brady will want to thank you once I tell him everything you did to help.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude. Besides, in all honesty, my help was for you, Emma.” He averted his face in a rare show of modesty. “Although I’m glad everything worked out for your brother.”

“Don’t be silly,” I said with a laugh in my voice. “Brady will want to meet you. Once he hears all you’ve done, he’ll be your friend for life. And while that prospect does have its hazards, as Jesse and I can both attest, Brady’s a good soul and I do so want you both to meet.”

“Well . . .” His arm retreated from around my waist as we reached the rear gardens and the view of the half-dozen or so policemen milling about, taking notes and examining the crime scene. Any attention they might have paid us, however, was diverted by the arrival of the coroner’s wagon, which just now jostled over the lawn around the corner of the house. One of the officers climbed the steps to the kitchen door, and I looked away, realizing they were about to remove the body of Rupert’s valet from the mudroom. Of Adelaide I saw no sign.

I reached for Derrick’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Oh, just say you’ll come and let’s be off. I can’t wait to see Brady’s face when he learns this nightmare is over.”

I
waited alone for Brady in the police chief’s office; the man was kind enough to once again vacate as he had done the day of Aunt Alice’s unprecedented visit. This time his eye twinkled as he congratulated me on the turn of events. In fact, quite a few smiles had greeted me as I’d entered the building. Only Officer Dobbs sported his usual surly expression, now mixed with obvious disappointment that my brother wouldn’t be hanged after all.

Humph.
Knowing well enough this probably wouldn’t be Brady’s last run-in with the law, I resisted shooting his nemesis any triumphant looks.

I could barely keep from bouncing up and down in my excitement to see Brady. Jesse had agreed to tell him only that I was here to see him; I would get to break the news of his release to him myself. Still, I wished Derrick hadn’t insisted on waiting in the lobby. He repeated his reluctance to intrude on the reunion of our little family, but he was as responsible for Brady’s being exonerated as I was, not to mention having saved my life on more than one occasion. He certainly deserved to share in this happy moment.

The door opened quietly and Brady stepped into the room. “Em? What’s going on?” Furrows gathered on his brow as his gaze swept the office. “Is Aunt Alice here?”

“It’s just me this time, Brady.” I hurried the few feet to him and threw my arms around him. “Oh, Brady . . .”

Before I could get any coherent words out, I dissolved into tears. Brady just stood there supporting my limp weight against him while I dampened his shirtfront. He patted my back and rested his chin on my hair.

“It’s all right, Em. I knew it was a long shot. Hey, I’ve had a pretty good run all in all, so no regrets. Just tell Mother—”

I picked my head up. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m done for, right? They’re taking me to Providence for the trial, and then—”

“No, no! It’s over, Brady! You’re free. We did it. We did it!”

“We did?” His hands found my shoulders and he set me at arm’s length.

I could hardly contain my peals of laughter. Anyone on the other side of the door must have been certain I’d lost my mind. Brady surely was, judging by his baffled expression. “It was Adelaide. She killed Alvin Goddard . . . and Jack and . . .”

“My God . . .”

My mirth abruptly ceased. “Oh, Brady . . . I can hardly believe it, either. I have so much to tell you. Sit down.”

We pulled two chairs close and sat facing each other, our shoulders huddled, hands gripped tight, as I plotted out Adelaide’s trail of mayhem. The murders, the attempts on my life. When I finally stopped talking a thick silence fell over us. Brady’s face had gone sickly pale. His hands trembled in mine.

Finally, his colorless lips parted. “I don’t want you ever taking risks like that again, Em. Nothing is worth all that. Not even me.”

I sat back a little and shook my head. “If you weren’t looking so ghastly, I’d smack you right in the head for that comment. As it is, you
are
worth it, Brady. You’re my brother—”

“Half brother,” he corrected me with the faintest beginnings of a grin.

“Brother,” I insisted. “You and I hail from the same hardy old Newport stock. We stick together.”

He nodded, made a fist, and tapped it gently against my chin. “Even so. Next time—”

“Are you planning a next time?”

“God, no! The only thing I’m planning is some decent food and a good long sleep in my own bed.” He wagged his eyebrows and cocked his head. “And to start searching for new employment.”

“Maybe not. I’ll speak with Uncle Cornelius—”

“There’s no way he’ll take me back.”

“Aunt Alice might be able to sway him.”

“Not after what I did. Forget it, Em.”

“Well, there are more Vanderbilts where they came from.” I thought for a moment. “You know, Alva Vanderbilt might need a secretary or a steward to help her run Marble House. She’d probably hire you just to stick a thorn in Aunt Alice’s side.”

It was true. Alva Vanderbilt was married to, yet soon to be divorced from, Uncle Cornelius’s brother, William. She and Aunt Alice had always maintained a fierce rivalry. Why, if it hadn’t been for Alva building Marble House, Aunt Alice would never have had The Breakers rebuilt on such a monumental scale. With resentments already running high, the divorce proceedings had relegated Alva to the position of persona non grata among the rest of the family.

“Yes,” I said with a nod, “I do believe Alva might be willing to help us out, Brady. But, come on. Not only can you walk out of here a free man, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

I flung the office door wide, grasped his hand, and practically hauled him out behind me. In the entrance to the lobby, however, I pulled up short and Brady collided softly with my back. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The man who helped me uncover the truth, of course. Derrick Anderson.”

“Oh, you mean
Andrews.
” Brady came up beside me and viewed the empty lobby. “I saw him through the doorway as they brought me in from the cells. He was more or less hovering by the street door. I waved, but he didn’t seem to see me. Anyway, looks like he’s gone now.”

I turned to him in surprise. “You know Derrick Anderson?”

“It’s
Andrews,
and sure, we’ve met. He’s all right. So how’d
you
meet him, Em?” He smiled a bit devilishly.

Whatever innuendo that look conveyed was lost on me as I processed what I’d just learned. “Andrews . . . ? Not Anderson? Are you sure, Brady? Quite sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Remember when I went with Uncle Cornelius to that regatta in Boston two summers ago? Derrick Andrews was there.” Brady grinned at the memory. “Hell of a sailor. And he can toss down a good bourbon with the best of ’em. Man after my own heart, that Andrews is.”

“He lied about his name . . . and what else?” I murmured. Then, louder and angrily, “Does he even work for the Providence
Sun
?”

“Work for them? Oh, Em, that’s rich. Derrick is Lionel Andrews’s son and heir. He’ll
own
the
Sun
someday.”

And then it hit me. Just a little while ago, when Derrick explained his involvement in this mess, he’s said Suzanne Rockport had
asked
him to investigate Adelaide. Not hired him—
asked
him. As in one friend asking a favor of another.

He
knew
Mrs. Rockport, was probably a family friend. Because Derrick Anderson—no, Andrews—hailed from the same societal stratosphere. Was probably even one of the Four Hundred.

“That’s why he left. He knew you’d give him away and end his little charade.”

Brady just gave me a puzzled look.

Oh, what wouldn’t I tell that man when I saw him again. I straightened my spine. “Let’s ask Jesse for a ride to your place, Brady. You’ll gather a few things and come home with me to Gull Manor. I’m sure Nanny will love to cook for you.”

“Now that’s the best offer I’ve had in the longest time,” he replied with a burst of his former enthusiasm. “And no doubt the dear old peach’ll brew me a spot of tea with a wee splash of brandy.

“Now who could that be?” Nanny muttered as the telephone jangled yet again. It had been ringing all morning for the same reason: friends calling to congratulate Brady on his release.

Never mind that many of those friends not only hadn’t visited him in jail, but had remained silent rather than stand up for Brady’s innocence. Luckily for them my brother had a forgiving nature and a short memory.

“I’ll get it,” he said quite needlessly, as neither Nanny nor I had made a move to rise from our chairs in the front parlor. Quickly he crossed into the hall and ducked under the staircase.

Jesse, sitting on Aunt Sadie’s favorite overstuffed, camelback sofa across from me, grinned. “It’s good to see him out and his old self again.” His smile vanished and he shook his head. “I wish I could have brought you better news today, though.”

He had come to tell us of Adelaide’s fate. Nanny hadn’t stopped scowling since he arrived. “Convalescent home, bah! There should be a trial, after which she should spend the rest of her miserable days in a dark, dank cell where she belongs. Where our Brady would have ended up—or worse—if Emma hadn’t cracked the case.”

“ ‘Cracked the case’?” I couldn’t help smirking at her. “Nanny, have you been reading Sherlock Holmes again?”

She shrugged, but the twinkle in her eye spoke of guilty pleasures.

“I agree with you, Mrs. O’Neal,” Jesse put in, “and this is officially off the record. But her husband and his sister apparently offered a hefty . . . shall we say . . . donation . . . to just the right political campaign to have the affair neatly tied up as quickly and quietly as possible. Adelaide has been declared incompetent due to a nervous condition and bundled away to an isolated asylum on the Maine coast. They’re calling it a convalescent home, but trust me, Mrs. Halstock won’t be strolling any gardens or soaking in any hot springs anytime soon.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess.” I lifted the teapot from the low table in front of me. “More tea?”

Jesse set his cup down and pushed to his feet. “Thanks, but I’ve got to be getting back.”

I walked him to the front door; Brady’s hearty voice echoed at our backs from the alcove as he continued his jabbering over the line. Jesse waved a salute to him and Brady saluted back.

Jesse turned to me in the open doorway. “I should yell at you, you know. I told you to keep out of it and look what almost happened.”

“I hear a bit of hesitancy, though,” I teased.

He pursed his lips ruefully. “The truth is, you’d have made a fine detective, Emma. Just . . . just don’t make a habit out of it.”

He looked about to say something else, and his expression made some instinct inside me clench. His thought went unspoken, however. An open rig, its top down, rumbled up the drive. Even from the distance I could make out the wide-shouldered figure of Derrick Anderson—make that Andrews—perched behind a dapple gray hack.

“I’ll see you soon, Emma,” Jesse said, and made his way stiffly to his own buggy.

As Derrick climbed down I considered shutting the door and locking it. This man had lied to me for no good reason that I could see, except possibly to make a fool of me, to have something to snigger about behind my back. I’d been nothing but honest with him, and the betrayal stung. Probably always would.

He approached with his bowler in his hands, head slightly bowed. Perhaps his conscience niggled, or perhaps he correctly read the less-than-welcoming expression on my face. “Good morning, Emma.”

“Mr. Andrews.”

“Ah, yes.”

I drew up rigidly. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

Brady’s voice had gone quiet in the ensuing moments, but now the telephone jingled again. Derrick gazed past me into the house, then looked off to his left. “Will you walk with me?”

I glared at him for a full five or six seconds. “All right.”

Our steps crunching on the drive, we circled the house in silence and headed toward the spit of land that jutted out into the ocean. Once there he turned to face me and reached for my hand, but I grasped it primly at my waist with my other.

“I don’t appreciate being lied to,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Emma. But surely you can understand my need for discretion. I couldn’t exactly arrive in Newport as Derrick Andrews, investigating a man at the request of a family friend. Mrs. Rockport was trying to protect her brother while at the same time avoiding a scandal—”

“No,” I said.

“No?”

“No. Oh, I’ll concede the validity of your argument up to a point, but are you forgetting that you confided in me about your reasons for being in Newport the night I was attacked on the Point?
That
was the time to tell me the truth—the whole truth of who you are. And yet you continued to lie. Why is that?”

He started to crush his bowler between his hands, then stilled them. “Because I’d begun to like you,” he murmured.

“And that’s a reason to deceive me? Why, you ki—” I broke off just before blurting the word
kissed.
And maybe that was the reason his deception appalled me as much as it did. The man had kissed me, toyed with my emotions, while playing me false. I compressed my lips and stared at the rocky ground between us.”

“It was stupid of me. But, Emma, the more I learned about you, the more I realized Derrick Andrews was not a man you’d ever think twice about. At least not in the way I’d come to think about you. Derrick Andrews is too rich, too much a part of society, too much like your Vanderbilt relatives. Why, one look at you and a man can see you don’t want to be a society matron like your aunt. You’re too independent, too headstrong. Too daring and full of adventure.”

I held his gaze and said nothing, challenging him with my silence to change my mind about him; good heavens, hoping in spite of myself he
could
change my mind.

“But Derrick Anderson, investigative reporter, is like you, Emma,” he went on after a moment. A plea for understanding turned his deep voice husky. “He works for a living, and he’s as adventurous and daring as you are. He can find pleasure in small moments, in experiences that have nothing to do with capital gains.” He stepped closer, making my peninsula suddenly feel far too small for the two of us. “He’s like you.
I’m
like you, Emma. I swear it.”

The sea breezes and briny spray shut out the world around us. Like rocks that are slowly broken down by the tides, I felt my anger ebbing, breaking apart, scattering. He spoke the truth. He had been listening to me all those times we’d spent together—listening well. Getting to know me, and to like me for who I was. The power of that swayed any resolve I’d made to stand strong against him.

My pride, however, held like the strongest mortar. My Vanderbilt heritage again, I suppose, a legacy I could never quite escape.

“I suppose I should forgive you after everything you’ve done. It wouldn’t be very sporting of me to hold a grudge, would it?” I smiled good-naturedly and held my right hand out vertically, an offer to shake hands and reconcile. “We can, of course, be friends.”