Murder on Marble Row (26 page)

“What about Bertie and Tad?” he asked, still shocked. “And Lilly?”

“You can provide for your brother and sister as you see fit, and your stepmother will get an income of five hundred dollars a year.”

“Five hundred dollars?”
Sarah echoed in amazement.

“She'll never be able to support herself on that, even if she lived here in the house with me!” Creighton said, equally surprised. “Why would he do a thing like that?”

“He must have been very angry with her,” Sarah guessed. “And with Tad, too.” She was asking a silent question, but Frank wasn't going to answer it.

“And with Bertie,” Creighton added, still trying to make sense of it. “What on earth could
she
have done?”

“I think your father was trying to protect her from fortune hunters,” Frank said, hoping to find out if Creighton knew Alberta and Reed were lovers.

“She was never bothered by fortune hunters when he was alive,” Creighton said. “Why should he worry about it after he's dead?”

Frank looked at Sarah, silently warning her not to tell, but she didn't need a warning. She simply sat staring up at Creighton with a slightly puzzled look on her face, as if she didn't have any idea.

When no one responded, Creighton said, “Well, I don't care if she does want to marry a fortune hunter. If he makes her happy, she can have all the money she wants. In fact, she can have the whole estate. I don't want a cursed penny of it.”

Frank had never expected to hear a man say anything so foolish in his entire life, but before he could think of a response, Sarah beat him to it.

“Don't be so hasty, Creighton,” she said reasonably. “What about all the people who work for your father's business? This would be your chance to introduce better working conditions and higher salaries, everything you believe in. You can't change the world all at once, but you could start with one company. If you were able to make money while treating your workers well, others might want to learn from you.”

Sarah Brandt never ceased to amaze him. Frank had been disarmed by her logic many times, and it was nice to know he wasn't her only victim.

Creighton was staring at her, uncertain whether her argument supported anarchist philosophy or not, but Frank wasn't going to give him time to decide. “Do you know why your father would have cut your brother and stepmother out of his will?”

Creighton looked uncomfortable, and he finally decided to sit down. “Father was a very difficult man to please,” he hedged, not meeting Frank's eye.

“Did your brother have a hard time pleasing him?” Frank pressed.

Plainly, he didn't want to answer. “Tad was the youngest child. He's a bit spoiled, and of course he's still very young.”

“Which means he didn't like to work,” Frank guessed. “Is that why his desk is in the basement with the other junior clerks?”

“Father wanted him to learn the business the way he had, especially after I . . . left.”

“How did Tad feel about that?”

“He didn't have a head for it. He hated working with numbers and sitting at a desk all day. What young man wouldn't?”

“Lots of them,” Frank said, thinking of how lucky he would've felt for a job like that, where he could earn a decent wage honestly and work in a clean, safe office. But for jobs like that, no Irish need apply.

“Not Tad,” Creighton said wearily. “He was the son of a millionaire, and he didn't see why he had to work. I guess he still doesn't.”

“He probably expected to inherit a sizable amount of money when your father died,” Frank said mildly.

“I suppose,” Creighton said, and then the implication of that statement dawned on him. “He couldn't have done a thing like this,” he insisted. “In the first place, he isn't clever enough.”

“What do you mean?” Frank asked.

“The killer planned this carefully. Then he made the bomb and set it up. That would've taken a lot of time.”

“Your brother could have gone into the building anytime he wanted and stayed as long as he liked. No one would've questioned him.”

“But he'd have to know how to make a bomb and how to wire it. He'd have to study the process and have patience and take great care in building it. Tad couldn't do that. It's not in his nature. He can't even play chess because it takes too long!”

“Your father must've always known what Tad was like. That wouldn't be enough for him to suddenly change his will. Could your brother have done something in particular to make your father angry?”

“I suppose so,” Creighton said grudgingly. “I hadn't seen them for months, though.”

“How did Tad feel about your stepmother?”

Creighton saw no purpose to this question. “He liked her well enough, I suppose.”

“Could his feelings have been deeper than that?”

Creighton stiffened. Now he saw the purpose. “That's ridiculous!”

“Is it? You said yourself Tad is a young man. Mrs. Van Dyke is a young woman and very attractive.”

“He's obviously very fond of Lilly,” Sarah offered, “and she encourages him, I'm afraid. I think she enjoys the attention.”

Creighton didn't like this one bit. He looked as if he'd like to bolt, but good breeding kept him in his seat.

Frank pushed him a little harder. “He wouldn't be the first young man to do something stupid for love.”

“Killing your father is more than just stupid, Detective,” Creighton said stiffly.

“If your anarchists friends didn't do it, someone else did,” Frank reminded him. “Most of the people who could've wanted him dead are relatives.”

“Do you think
Bertie
could've killed him?” he asked, angry now. “I can just see her carrying a bomb to Father's office and wiring it to explode. Or maybe Lilly. She could've gone down there one evening when Father thought she was at a concert or a play and planted the bomb.”

“Either one of them could've gotten a man to do it for them,” Frank said provocatively.

“Oh, yes,” Creighton agreed bitterly. “Bertie is a well-known seductress. I can think of any number of men who would've gladly sacrificed themselves just for a touch of her hand.”

“Well, there's at least one,” Frank said.

Creighton didn't believe him. “No man has called on her in years!”

“That's because your father wouldn't let him.”

“Who is it?” he challenged. Plainly he didn't believe Frank knew.

“Lewis Reed.”

“Reed?” he echoed in surprise, and then his head snapped up, and he looked in the direction of the back parlor, where Sarah had told him Alberta and Reed were. “She and
Lewis
?” he asked incredulously.

“Your father forbade them to see each other,” Sarah said. “He genuinely loves her, Creighton, but your father would've ruined Mr. Reed before he'd let him marry Alberta.”

Frank waited to see if she'd mention the baby, but she didn't. Probably, she was respecting Alberta's secret. He wouldn't have been so honorable if it meant shocking Creighton into a revelation, but he'd let it go for now.

“Reed could've built a bomb, and he had access to the building,” Frank pointed out.

“But Lewis was injured in the blast,” Creighton said. “If he was the killer, surely he wouldn't have put himself in danger.”

“We think it went off by accident, long before the killer intended for it to,” Frank said.

Creighton was shaking his head. “I can't . . . This is too horrible to even contemplate. Don't you suspect anyone outside of our family?” he added desperately.

“How about Allen Snowberger?”

Creighton eagerly grasped at this. “You'd asked me about him before. He and my father were arguing or something. But that wasn't unusual. They never got along.”

“Until the day your father died,” Frank reminded him. “Mr. Van Dyke was taking him a bottle of expensive French brandy.”

“You told me that before, and it still doesn't make any sense. Why would he do a thing like that?”

“No one seems to know.”

“Didn't you ask Snowberger?”

“He doesn't know either, or so he says.”

Creighton was still considering the situation when the parlor door opened and Lilly Van Dyke stormed in.

“Creighton, how dare you show your face here!” She turned to Frank. “I hope you're going to lock him up this time. None of us are safe with him running around loose!”

“I don't have any reason to arrest him, Mrs. Van Dyke,” Frank said as respectfully as he could when he really wanted to toss her back out the door.

“What do you mean, no reason? He killed Gregory!”

“Creighton!” Alberta cried from the doorway and rushed to her brother. He rose and caught her hands in his as she reached out to him. “I'm so glad you're safe.”

“
Safe?
Why wouldn't he be safe?” Lilly demanded shrilly. “No one wants
him
dead! He's the golden goose for all those foreign revolutionaries!”

Creighton and Alberta ignored her.

“Is Katya all right?” Alberta asked.

“Fine,” he said. “I saw her this morning, just before I came here. She's worried, but I told her not to be.”

“I can't imagine why you'd say a thing like that,” Lilly snapped. She turned to Frank again. “If you aren't going to arrest him, I'm going to have to call Commissioner Roosevelt and insist that he send someone who will.”

“If that's what you think is best, Mrs. Van Dyke, go right ahead,” Frank said, figuring she was bluffing. Teddy wasn't going to take orders from someone polite society frowned on.

Lilly Van Dyke wasn't used to being dismissed, and she stared at him, open-mouthed for a moment before she remembered herself.

Taking advantage of her temporary silence, Frank said, “I was just explaining the terms of your husband's new will to Mr. Van Dyke.”

This caught her attention. “I
knew
my husband was making a new will,” she said, contradicting what she'd told Frank a few days ago. “He said he needed to make some changes in light of recent events,” she added, giving Creighton a meaningful look.

Creighton released Alberta's hands and met Lilly's gaze unflinchingly. “I think you'll be surprised, Lilly.”

“Surprised that he left you nothing?” she scoffed.

“No, surprised that he left me everything.”

Shocked and unbelieving, she turned to Frank for confirmation.

“That's right, Mrs. Van Dyke,” he said, watching her carefully for her reaction.

She still didn't comprehend. “You mean after he provided for me,” she said. “I'm his wife!”

“Of course Father provided for you, Lilly,” Creighton said, not bothering to hide his satisfaction. “He left you an annual income of five hundred dollars a year.”

She needed a moment for this to register. “I must have misunderstood you,” she said, trying to smile, trying to make her charm work.

“You didn't misunderstand,” Creighton said, taking a perverse pleasure in explaining. “He left you a pittance. If you're very careful not to offend me, I may allow you to continue to live here, so you won't have the expense of room and board someplace else. That will leave your entire income to use on clothes and whatever else you think you need.”

They both knew the “pittance” wouldn't pay for even one custom-made evening gown. Lilly stared at Creighton as if she'd never seen him before.
“No!”
she shrieked. “You're lying! He was going to disinherit you! He knew you'd just give it to those foreigners! He wouldn't have left you a penny!”

She lunged at Creighton, hands clenched into claws, but Creighton caught her wrists before she could attack him. She screamed in frustration as she struggled to get her nails into his face.

Creighton wrestled her down into the chair where he'd been sitting. By then she was sobbing hysterically.

“Bertie?” Reed called from the doorway. “Are you all right?” His face was pale, and he held one hand to his wounded head, but his eyes were bright with concern.

“Lewis,” Alberta said, hurrying to his side. “You shouldn't be up. Come and sit down.” She took his arm and Sarah jumped up to help. The two women escorted him safely to the sofa and sat down on either side of him. “What's wrong with Mrs. Van Dyke?” he was asking when Tad Van Dyke appeared in the doorway.

“What's going on in here? Lilly, what's wrong?” He glanced around at everyone else in the room. “What have you done to her?” he demanded of Creighton.

He didn't wait for an answer, but went immediately to Lilly's side.

Frank rubbed a hand over his face. Now if Gregory Van Dyke would just return from the grave, this scene would be a
perfect
disaster.

“Lilly, what is it?” Tad was asking her, his voice soft, his touch caressing as he knelt beside her chair and handed her his handkerchief. “There now, don't cry. I'll take care of everything.”

That made her cry even harder as she buried her face in his handkerchief. Frank noted that Creighton was watching them closely and frowning. He'd be remembering what Frank had said about them being lovers and trying to see some evidence to prove him wrong.

“You can't do much to take care of this, Tad,” Creighton informed him. “Lilly's crying because Father left his entire estate to me.”

Tad's head jerked up, and he stared at his brother in patent disbelief. “He just made a new will,” he said. “He was going to cut you out completely!”