Blackmailed, page 13
Virginia smiled at him and slipped her arm through his. She led him up the wide staircase to a long hallway with guests milling in and out of a large room.
“How does Clement afford this kind of home on the salary your board pays him?”
“I never thought of that. He couldn’t possibly. I know how much he makes.”
“Maybe family money?”
“Maybe,” she said. “Although I’ve never heard him talk about his relatives, and I’ve never heard the Clement name mentioned in society circles.”
Phillip guided Virginia into the room guests were allowed in, another one filled with art and artifacts. There was a man standing near the window, watching the guests as they moved around the room.
Virginia nodded in the man’s direction while looking at a painting on the wall. “Do you recognize that man?”
“No. Never saw him before.”
Phillip was scanning the room when Virginia tightened her grip on his arm. “You did say a small painting by Copley. A woman and a dog, correct?”
He nodded and focused where she was looking. “That’s it. That’s the painting I saw.”
“Good Lord,” Virginia said. “I didn’t particularly want to believe that Clement was anything more than unpleasant and overly sure of his appeal to women.”
Phillip glanced around the room. “I wonder if we will find the necklace or the wooden box as well.”
They walked slowly around the perimeter of the room, examining the items on display, but it was not until they went to a large glass-covered table in the middle of the room that they saw what they’d been looking for.
“There’s the necklace and earbobs,” Phillip whispered.
Virginia read the card beside the jewels. “Belonged to a French aristocrat who handed them to a random person before her beheading.”
“Good Lord,” Phillip said.
“The value of these would be nearly impossible to estimate. The gems alone would be worth a fortune, let alone the history.”
“If Colfax stole these, how did he get them out of this case—unless he broke the case in a nighttime theft?”
“Colfax would have been invited here, I think, and somehow got them out from under the glass. If it was a theft, you would think it would have been reported or talked about at least. I heard nothing about a theft from him.”
“Unless Clement didn’t want the police poking into his business,” Phillip said and looked around the room. “Especially if some of his treasures were stolen in the first place.”
“You think he’s a thief as well?”
“How would he ever pay for these things unless he is very, very rich? Or if he didn’t pay for them at all or bought them from someone like Irene Littleman.”
They walked out of the room and down the stairs, Virginia greeting people as they went, introducing him to more people than he’d ever remember. He smiled and shook hands and nodded at the ladies. A few of the women looked him up and down as if he were a hanging side of beef at Savitsky’s Butcher Shop.
Virginia led him to a buffet where Clement was standing. “Oh, Horatio! Another lovely fundraiser, and it looks as though the pledge book is filling up. All because of your generosity.”
Clement smiled at Virginia and glared at Phillip. “Why don’t you fill a plate, Mr. Brown?” he said with an exaggerated emphasis on his name. “I’ll keep our Virginia company.”
For only having met the man an hour ago, Phillip would have liked nothing more than to wipe the smug smile from Clement’s face with his fist. But he gave the man a tight-lipped nod instead and turned to a table laden with food, although he did not move far from Virginia’s side. He glanced around the room and saw the man from Dolly’s shop attack had been replaced by another whom Phillip did not recognize.
“Your display room on the second floor is miraculous. Probably the most prestigious collection, certainly in Baltimore, and maybe on the whole East Coast,” Virginia said.
Clement replied with gushing thanks while congratulating himself on his exemplary taste and uncanny ability to spot a true heirloom. It was enough to make Phillip sick.
“I know I’d hardly be able to sleep at night, knowing all these beautiful valuables were in my home! How courageous you are, Horatio,” Virginia said.
“Well, I do employ watchmen and have safes where the most valuable of my collection is stored unless I’m entertaining.”
Phillip reached for a pastry that enabled him to see Virginia as she laid her hand on Clement’s arm and looked up at him. “But you must worry.”
He laid a hand over hers. “I do worry, but I’ve had some experience with danger and am not afraid to defend my property.”
Virginia fluttered her lashes. “Of course you’re not. How silly of me.”
Phillip filled a plate for Virginia and came back to her side. Clement looked at him with disgust.
“Did you get your fill, Mr. Brown?”
“I stopped at twenty-two of those big shrimp. Wanted to leave a few for your other guests.”
Clement’s eyes widened, and he glanced away. “I see someone wishing to speak to me. It was a pleasure talking to you, Virginia. Brown,” he said with a stiff nod.
Chapter 14
Virginia received a letter from Aunt Essie, and she hurried to her room to read it in privacy. Although much of it was Essie’s concern that Virginia hadn’t married Phillip Brown yet, it also addressed the specific question she’d asked her aunt when she’d sent it.
I’m not the one who would know or remember any scandals in Mrs. Everly’s youth or even her married life. She was several years older than me at the girls’ school we attended, and I thought from the first time I met her that she was a snob and an unpleasant girl who would grow into a mean and foolish adult.
You must talk to Gladys Lowenfelt. Do you remember her? She was a friend of your mother’s and from the same neighborhood as her. Gladys married Mr. Lowenfelt, who was a family friend of the Everlys. The Everlys were part of the Baltimore social scene even then. Gladys was often paired up with Florence Everly on committees and such, not that she was ever happy about it, but she didn’t think there was a way to distance herself from Florence without causing gossip. I still correspond with Gladys now and again. I’ll mention that you’ll be calling on her in the future.
* * *
Having no idea what Aunt Essie had said to Mrs. Lowenfelt in her letter, she thought it best to visit the woman sooner rather than later and arranged a meeting. When she arrived, she climbed down from the carriage with Mr. Turnbull’s help, Colleen following her.
“I think it best if you speak to the housekeeper rather than sit with me and Mrs. Lowenfelt. I’m afraid she might be less forthcoming with others in the room,” Virginia said as they climbed the steps.
“I’ll find a place to wait,” Colleen said.
The butler opened the door and escorted Virginia into a pleasant sunlit room. There was not a chair arm, table, or hassock that did not have books, magazines, or knitting resting on them. An older woman rose from her seat near a blazing fire. She was tall and thin and stood straight, her gray hair twisted into a knot on top of her head.
“Little Virginia Wiest! Dear Lord, you are the image of your mother. Just as beautiful,” she said as she came forward, leaning heavily on a cane.
“Mrs. Lowenfelt. How kind of you to say so. I am always so flattered to hear myself compared to Mother.”
“You should be flattered, dear. Your mother was as lovely as she was kind. Now come sit. I’ve got tea and cakes ordered for your arrival,” she said and turned as the door opened behind her. “And here they are. Put them there, Wilma. I’ve cleared some space for the tray.”
Mrs. Lowenfelt seated herself near the tray and turned in her seat to pour.
“Allow me, ma’am,” Virginia said. “I’m happy to pour for the both of us.”
“Thank you, dear. My hands aren’t as steady as they used to be.”
Virginia poured the tea and set it and a small plate of cakes beside each of them.
“Now you must tell me what answers you are searching for. Your Aunt Essie was very mysterious, and I’ve been ruminating on what you might ask me since I received her letter.”
“No mystery. None at all,” Virginia said and sat her teacup on the table. She hesitated a moment. “I don’t want to embarrass anyone or make anyone uncomfortable.”
“If you’re concerned I’ll share whatever it is you tell me, let me assure you I rarely leave this house and have few visitors. But more than that, if you ask me something in confidence, it will stay confidential.”
Virginia breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mrs. Lowenfelt. That is most reassuring.”
“Of course. Now what can I help you with?”
“Aunt Essie said you were acquainted with Mrs. Everly. Mrs. Florence Everly.”
Mrs. Lowenfelt rolled her eyes. “Yes, I was acquainted. We were often thrown together in social functions and in charity or church work we were both involved with in our younger days. Her husband, Theodore, and my husband were good friends since their childhood and spent much time in each other’s company.”
“You don’t sound as though you enjoyed the connection all that much.”
“She wasn’t so bad when I first met her, other being a dreadful snob, but it got so much worse as her husband moved up in the Baltimore Gas Works. He was a very important man there, and Florence never let anyone forget it.”
“I don’t think she has changed much over the years,” Virginia said.
Mrs. Lowenfelt barked a laugh. “I imagine so. She isn’t a person I kept in touch with once my husband passed away.”
“I cannot tell you much without breaking a confidence, but I am trying to find out if Mrs. Everly did something scandalous in her youth or early in her marriage. It’s hard to imagine her stepping a toe out of line today, but sometimes people change.”
“It wasn’t her that did something. It was her husband. Theodore,” she said with a raised brow. “It was quite the on-dit.”
“Oh,” Virginia said. “Can you tell me any of the details?”
“My husband told me the whole of it when it happened in the strictest confidence, but then he is gone now, and so is Theodore.”
“If you’d rather not . . .” Virginia said, hoping against hope she would hear all. And she did.
* * *
Phillip found Timothy Sweitzinger at Red’s Tavern, sitting by himself and nursing a brew.
“What has you so long in the face?” Phillip asked.
Timothy looked away and shrugged. Not his normal back talk when Phillip teased him. “Nothing,” he said finally.
“My God, man. You’re pouting like a baby. What’s the matter? The station?”
Timothy shook his head. “Work is fine. Let it be.”
“Fine. What do you know about a man named Horatio Clement? Lives on Calvert Street. Works for the Benevolent Society for Orphans.”
“Nothing. Never heard of him.”
“I’m reasonably certain he’s your man for the Cornelius Colfax killing.”
Timothy perked up. “What?”
“Keep your voice down. I said I’m as certain as I can be that he killed Colfax himself or had him killed.”
“How do you know?”
“I observed some items in the deceased Mr. Colfax’s possession two weeks ago. Those items were on display in at the Clement residence this past Thursday.”
Timothy rubbed his face. Phillip could tell he was sorting through what he had said and not said. “And you believe the items were originally in Clement’s possession. Stolen and then reappeared.”
“Stolen directly by Colfax, but I’ve been thinking it was just as possible that Colfax interrupted a transaction between Clement and one of the fences in town.”
“And made off with the merchandise.”
“Seems unlikely as I imagine both parties would have guards with them. For their own safety and that of the merchandise.”
“Could have been done, especially if one of Clement’s men turned,” Timothy said.
Phillip nodded. “Exactly what I thought.”
“How sure are you?”
“I’m sure of two things. First, I saw the three items in Colfax’s residence, and do not ask me how. Second, I saw two of those items displayed in Clement’s home on Calvert Street two nights ago.”
“How do you think the items got from Colfax’s residence to Clement’s?”
“They were taken from one place to the other in the dark of night.”
“And you know this for certain.”
“I do.”
Timothy nodded. “I’ll start checking. Maybe this Clement fellow filed a report with the policemen in that district.”
“Maybe.”
“Doubtful but possible is what I’m hearing,” Timothy said.
“Now tell me why you were so glum when I first got here.”
Timothy shrugged. “You don’t want to know.”
“Does this have anything to do with my sister?”
“She’s going to the dance at Minehew’s Barn with the doctor.”
Phillip took a long swallow of beer and emptied his glass. “Nothing I can do about that. But you can show up anyway and ask her to dance. Sometimes I think the only reason she says yes to Prosperi is because nobody else asked her.”
* * *
Phillip was walking home late afternoon from his shift when a carriage pulled up beside him. Mr. Turnbull tipped his hat to him as he pulled his team to a halt. Virginia Wiest opened the door from the inside.
“Mr. Brown? Can we give you a ride somewhere? Home, by chance?”
He smiled up at her and then climbed inside. “Yes. A soft carriage seat would suit me fine after today.”
“I thought it might.”
“Miss Hughes?” he asked, happy to be alone with her.
She shook her head. “I managed to escape without her or my father. I wanted to speak to you.”
He moved from his seat across from her to beside her and picked up her hand. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No. But perhaps I can help you. I wrote to my Aunt Essie and asked her about Mrs. Everly. She did not remember anything particular about her or her husband other than her being an unpleasant person.”
“It was worth a try. Thank you for asking her. But I agree wholeheartedly with her about Mrs. Everly.”
“She didn’t remember anything, but she told me I should speak to Mrs. Gladys Lowenfelt, which I did.”
“Did that lady remember anything that might be useful?”
“She did. Her husband and Mr. Everly grew up together and remained close after they were both married. Gladys was often thrown together with Mrs. Everly and never very happy about it, but she went along to keep peace between the two men.”
“That must have been miserable.”
“She hasn’t spoken to her since Gladys’s husband died, although they were not even friendly in later years. But it was when they were both only married a year or two that the scandal broke.”
“Mrs. Everly got herself into some gossip? I can hardly believe it.”
“Not Mrs. Everly. Mr. Everly. And caught red-handed, or rather, naked with their next-door neighbor, a Mrs. Stella Deflavio.”
“By Mrs. Everly?”
“By Mrs. Everly and several women from her church who had come home unexpectedly to see the decorating changes she’d made in the family bedrooms and guest rooms. Apparently, Mr. Everly was kind enough to use a guest room rather than their marital bedrooms when having an . . . intimate meeting with a woman who was not his wife.”
Phillip stared at her and slowly smiled. “I would never be cheerful at another’s troubles, but it is difficult when it is about Mrs. Everly.”
Virginia nodded. “I find myself having sympathy for Mrs. Everly. I can only imagine her humiliation, but then I think of the scene as it must have played out, and, well, it is unkind of me to repeat some of my reactions.”
“It makes me feel sorry for her, even disliking her as much as I do.”
“I feel the same. Does this information help you?”
“It does. Unfortunately, I’ll have to have a conversation with Mrs. Everly on a subject that I don’t want to talk about. Especially with her.” Phillip rubbed his forehead, unable to imagine how he would even begin a conversation with the woman about her husband’s infidelity.
“Let me do it.”
“No. She’d know I told you, and I swore to Mr. Everly that you or your father would never know about it. I can’t break a promise like that. Even though it has turned out that way.”
“Then talk to Mr. Everly about what you’ve found out. Maybe he knows who would be trying to blackmail her, or maybe he could ask her about it.”
“I can’t tell you how much I’m dreading that conversation.”
* * *
The following morning, Phillip went directly to Mr. Everly’s office, convinced that an unpleasant task should be completed as soon as possible. Fortunately, Mr. Wiest had not yet arrived.
“Good morning, Mr. Everly.”
“What is it, Brown? I’m busy.”
“I’d like to speak to you about your household away from this office,” Phillip said.
Everly jumped up from his chair. “Have you found the thief? Have you?”
“Mr. Everly, we need to speak at some length in a private setting.”
“Just tell me, Brown. Tell me who the thief is, and I’ll go home this instant and fire them. My nerves cannot take this any longer.”
“Mr. Everly. Not here . . .”
“Tell me, Brown!”
“It’s your mother, sir.”
“My mother what?”
“Your mother is the one stealing the items.”
“Good Lord! You must be insane.”
“I’m not insane. I’m certain. But it should not be discussed here.”
Everly dropped down in his chair, wiping a hand down his face as if to clear what he’d heard from his mind. He glanced up at Phillip, white-faced. “You must be mistaken,” he whispered.
