Scandal on Rincon Hill (41 page)

“For one thing, the senator is demanding an investigation into other articles that parasite has written, claiming that Foldger makes a habit of printing rumors without first proving their veracity. Which answers your question as to why the city's more reputable newspapers hesitated to pick up your story.”

“Good heavens,” was all I could think to say. “That was a piece of good fortune.”

“Even more fortunate,” Samuel continued with a broad smile, “is that Madam Valentine publicly denied Foldger's assertion that you'd ever visited her establishment.”

“Bravo for Matilda Abernathy,” I exclaimed, wishing the woman were within my reach right now so I might kiss her out of gratitude. “Fanny said she was known for her discretion.”

“And you can count your lucky stars that she is,” said Papa, joining us as we talked in the back parlor. “Not that you deserve it, my girl, but it seems you've dodged yet another bullet.”

“I went to the parlor house to see my client, Brielle Bouchard, Papa,” I explained. “She and her baby have been staying there since Gerald Knight forced her to leave the house on Pacific Avenue.”

“I gathered as much.” Papa regarded me from beneath somewhat shaggy, salt-and-pepper eyebrows. “Regardless of the reason you went there, Sarah, you should have considered the consequences if you were seen. You were lucky this time. In the future, you may have to pay a much higher price for such indiscretion.”

After Papa left us to return to his duties as host, Samuel let out a long sigh. “I wish he would as easily let me off the hook.”

I studied his face. “Have you decided what you're going to do yet?”

He shook his head. “No, but I did sign up to take the bar exams in February. I can always change my mind.”

“Samuel, you're just postponing the inevitable. Why don't you simply tell Papa how you really feel?”

He gave a little shudder. “I will when the time is right. Sometime after the holidays I'll make my decision.”

I sighed. “You have to do what you think best. I just don't see that putting it off is going to make it any easier.”

He smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “You're such a fighter, little sister. Why wasn't I blessed with some of your courage?”

Just then I caught Mama's meaningful glance from the hallway, and I left my brother to resume circulating among our guests. Every
time I spied Pierce, he seemed to be surrounded by a gaggle of silly young women, all of them looking up at him as if he were some kind of Greek god come down to earth for them to worship. I found it disgusting!

I noticed a goodly number of women were also drawn to Robert, but instead of taking the attention gracefully as did Pierce, he seemed to find it highly unsettling. His craggy face retained a permanent flush, and he regarded the women much as a sailor might view a school of hungry sharks. Finally taking pity on him, I came to his rescue and led him to a quiet spot off the dining room where he might eat his dinner in peace.

As far as I could tell, everyone seemed to be having a good time. After all our hard work the house truly did look festive. The tree twinkled merrily with dozens of small lit candles, and our mostly handmade decorations added just the right touch. As usual, Cook had outdone herself with the food. Although I'd had little opportunity to do more than try a bit of this and that on my way past the buffet tables.

Several times I spied Eddie passing through the rooms, bearing trays of drinks and other refreshments. His thin face was screwed into such a look of fierce concentration, that it was all I could do not to laugh. Poor Eddie, as a footman the boy was truly a fish out of water. His livery was so large, I feared his trousers might slide down his narrow hips at any moment and onto his ankles. More than once I tried to straighten his tie, which refused to remain in place, but from the way he squirmed you would have thought I was trying to strangle him.

I noticed that Melody ate very little and did almost no socializing, although several young men attempted to engage her in conversation. As ever, David hardly left her side, but his attempts to make her laugh and eat more dinner mostly failed.

Her father and stepmother appeared to be enjoying the evening enormously. Earlier, I saw that Mrs. Tremaine seemed to have caught the fancy of two young gentlemen, who were entertaining her with stories of their recent trip to France. She was basking in
the attention, laughing at their jokes and batting her eyes coyly when they paid her a compliment.

From the bits of conversation I caught in passing, Mr. Tremaine spent time discussing the current state of men's retail with a group of like-minded gentlemen. Throughout the evening, I noticed the Major wandering from one group to another, although he seemed to keep a close eye on Melody and David. His distracted expression puzzled me. I received the impression that something was bothering him, but could not think of a subtle way to inquire what it was.

For some reason his mood made me think of the dinner party the Tremaines had held just two weeks ago, the night Nigel Logan was killed. I glanced around at our guests. Was the murderer here? I wondered with a little shiver. Were we unknowingly playing host to a monster who had viciously murdered three people in the past two weeks?

I wished I knew who had been at the Tremaines' dinner. A number of tonight's guests belonged to our church; in all likelihood they had been invited to celebrate their rector's twenty-fifth ordination anniversary. Could one of them have been so provoked by Nigel Logan's defense of Charles Darwin's evolution theory that they had bludgeoned two men to death? If so, how did Patrick O'Hara fit into that picture? He was Roman Catholic. The chances of him being acquainted with members of our church—except those who might frequent the ice cream parlor—were slim.

And what if the police were right after all, and O'Hara's murder had nothing to do with Logan's and Hume's deaths? I was still convinced that my two young clients were innocent of wrongdoing, but what if the first two victims had been killed by thieves, or other hoodlums?

I was still going around in circles and getting nowhere, when Pierce came over and took me aside.

“I'd like you to do me a favor and ask Melody to sing,” he said quietly. “All evening she's been drifting about as if she just lost her best friend. I thought performing might cheer her up. And David, as well. He's hardly left her since they arrived.”

I looked at him curiously. “Of course, I'll be happy to ask her. But why do I have the feeling there's more to this request than meets the eye? You've got a peculiar look on your face.”

I followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at Melody as she sat in a chair to one side of the parlor. Her brother was standing stiffly behind her. Both of them appeared uncomfortable and out of place.

“Let's just say there's more than one way to skin a cat.”

I looked at him, confused. “That's a strange thing to say. Whatever do you mean?”

Instead of explaining, he gave me one of his enigmatic smiles, then went to talk to some men gathered in front of the fireplace. What was going on? I wondered. Why was he suddenly so eager to have Melody sing?

The impromptu performance was soon arranged, although Melody did not appear overly enthusiastic about the request. Marco was called out from the kitchen to help Samuel position the piano so that it could be better seen by everyone, and they provided chairs so that most of the ladies could sit. When all was ready, Mama announced that we were in for a wonderful treat; young Melody Tremaine had agreed to entertain us with one or two songs.

I felt a movement from behind, and turned to find that Robert had joined me. A moment later, Pierce appeared to stand to my other side. Robert nodded to him, but thankfully held his tongue. Pierce gave my hand a little squeeze as Melody walked to the piano, gracefully arranged her skirt, then took a seat on the bench.

When she was settled, and without saying a word to her audience concerning what she planned to sing, Melody began to play. As before, she became immediately engrossed in her music, and I again had the impression that she had escaped to a place exclusively her own. The few conversations still going on in the room quickly stilled as she began to sing the first measures of a popular song.

Looking around at the rapt faces watching the girl, I was overcome by a sudden sense of sadness. She was so exquisite and so talented, I could not help but bemoan the fact that, because of her
father's stubborn lack of understanding, her music would be lost to the world. Couldn't he hear the magic her agile fingers coaxed from the piano, and the glorious voice that issued from her slender throat? How could he deny the girl the life she was surely meant to follow?

Melody had just begun a second song when I heard the front door open and the murmur of Edis's voice. Pierce instantly left my side and moved into the foyer.

When I turned to see who had arrived so late in the evening, my mouth fell open in shock.

Very quietly, Pierce was directing two men into the front parlor. The first gentleman was a stranger to me, but I recognized the second man all too well.

It was Gerald Knight!

I
stopped Pierce before he could follow the latecomers inside. “What is Gerald Knight doing here?” I demanded. “He is the last person I would invite into this house.”

“I didn't invite him, Sarah,” Pierce answered softly. “He came with Kreling.”

“Kreling?” I repeated. “You mean the man with him is Joseph Kreling? The owner of the Tivoli Opera House?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought he was out of town.”

“He was, but when the Tremaines refused to allow Melody to audition again I sent him a telegram saying this might be his only opportunity to hear the girl sing. He cut his trip short and returned to San Francisco this afternoon.”

“What makes you think that having Kreling listen to Melody tonight will change her parents' minds about her pursuing a musical career?”

“I reasoned that if they saw her perform in front of an audience, they might realize how talented she is. And if Joe liked her, which I was sure he would, I hoped they might be swayed by the opinion of a professional.”

“What is it, Sarah?” Robert had come up behind me. “Is Godfrey bothering you?”

“No, Robert,” I answered, giving him a pointed look to behave. “It appears that we have an uninvited guest. Pierce and I are trying to decide what to do about it.”

Robert studied the people in the parlor. “Who is the intruder?”

“Do you see those men who just came in? The taller of the two is Gerald Knight, Brielle Bouchard's ex-lover.”

“What? You mean the cad who threw the poor girl out onto the street when he found out she was carrying his child?” Robert's face screwed up in fury. “Come, Godfrey, let's show the blackguard what it feels like to be tossed out like so much rubbish!”

“Robert, wait! And please lower your voice.” I grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back from the parlor door. “Mama will have my head if we create a scene. She has planned this party for weeks. We have to think this through calmly.”

“Why?” Robert persisted, but in a slightly lower volume. His large hands hung clenched at his sides, as if itching to wring the newspaperman's neck. “If your mother knew who this man was and what he has done, she'd be the first person to throw him out on his ear.”

“Well, I'm not going to tell her. And neither are you.” I thought about our options. Robert was right, we had to get Gerald Knight out of this house. But without creating a commotion. “For now, all we can do is to keep a close eye on Knight. Under no circumstances is he to be left alone with Melody.”

Before either man could voice an opinion, or an objection, to this plan, Samuel came out of the parlor to join us in the hallway. He looked disturbed, and not a little confused. “I must be seeing things. Are you aware of who just walked into this house? I had no idea Gerald Knight had been invited tonight.”

“He wasn't,” I replied, moving even farther away from the parlor door, so there would be less chance of our being overheard. “Pierce asked Joseph Kreling here tonight so that he could hear Melody sing.
Evidently, Knight somehow found out about it and invited himself along.”

“Because of his fascination with the girl,” Samuel said, obviously remembering what I had told him about Knight's attraction to Melody at the Tivoli.

“We're trying to think of some way to uninvite him,” Robert said, his expression still resembling a thundercloud.

“Perhaps when Melody is finished performing, we might try to escort Knight out without creating a fuss,” I offered, although with little real hope.

Samuel looked skeptical. “You don't know that man, if you think he's going to leave quietly, Sarah. Gerald Knight is used to getting what he wants.” He glanced back into the parlor, where Melody was holding her audience mesmerized. Except for her glorious voice filling the room, you could have heard a pin drop. “And judging from the way he's ogling the girl, I'd say you were right about his wanting Melody Tremaine. I seriously doubt that he's going to go just because you ask him to.”

“Then what do you suggest?” asked Robert. “I'll be more than happy to see him out the door, whether he cares to leave or not.”

“Robert, please,” I said. “That won't solve anything.”

My eyes went back to Melody and I noticed moisture glistening in her lovely eyes. The song she was currently performing was a ballad about two star-crossed lovers, but I did not think that was what had brought her close to tears. I suspected the mere act of singing in front of such an appreciative audience served to underscore her disappointment at being denied her lifelong dream. I prayed I would be proven wrong, but I seriously doubted that Joseph Kreling would be able to change the Tremaines' minds.

Her brother David was standing to the side of the piano, watching his sister sing in the same adoring way he had the night of Faith's birthday dinner. I also noticed that he kept massaging his temple, much as he had done last weekend when we had sought shelter from the storm and enjoyed our impromptu lunch. I wondered if he was
suffering another attack of the sick headaches he was evidently prone to. The poor boy. How sad if he were forced to endure one tonight.