Murder of the Mysterious Maid Page 2

  I blinked at him, taken aback. “Perhaps not, but it is only natural for someone who has had a shock to wish to discuss it.”

  The detective’s brow furrowed. “We’ll handle things from here, Miss Lunceford. You don’t need to worry yourself about a mad murderer on the loose.”

  Bristling at his condescending tone, I mustered all my sarcasm and shot back, “What a relief. Father, shall we go? We’re already very late.”

  “Yes, of course,” Father blustered. He shook Calvin’s hand and I gave him the slightest of nods before turning on my heel and making my way to the carriage.

  All the way to the Charles’ house, I fumed silently. What a lot of nerve Calvin Lloyd had! The first time he’d ever spoken to me and he’d scolded me as though I was a naughty child. I couldn’t think why I’d imagined him handsome.

  Chapter Two

  Only more than a decade of training allowed me to smile and greet each of the guests at the dinner party politely. My ruffled feathers weren’t soon to be soothed, but I had no intention of starting off my time in Brinkman with a social faux pas. I was very aware of my father’s social standing. He was still only in trade, even though he was high ranking. Nothing less than my mother’s pedigree and money had bought his way into the upper echelon of society.

  This started me off at a disadvantage. People would be watching to see whether or not I could handle myself as my mother would have or if my father’s low birth had influenced my behavior more. Fortunately, I was more than ready to meet the challenge. My grandmother had instilled impeccable manners in me and I was fresh from the rigorous expectations of the McKinley Seminary for Young Ladies.

  So, I squared my shoulders, put on just the right smile - friendly, but a tiny bit superior—and waltzed through the precise dance of introductions without missing a step. It was a small party with only a dozen guests, but the Charleses were carefully maintaining all the rules of etiquette and good taste. In fact, I felt they were trying a little too hard. My grandmother would have turned up her nose once she saw the overly elaborate flower arrangements and too-ornate place cards. I was inclined to appreciate the effort and to try and make the night a success. I understood the challenges of having to prove yourself better than Grandmother ever did.

  Mrs. Charles, a breathless wispy woman, introduced me to a tall, lanky young man by the name of Fitzwilliam Edwards who was to be my dinner companion. He bowed and then offered me an arm to escort me into the dining room.

  “Are we to be formal?” He asked me with a jaunty wink. “Or can you just call me Will and I’ll call you Rose?”

  While it was an impertinent question, Mr. Edwards gave the impression of one who functioned easily, even naturally, in society yet chose to throw off the restrictions of the rules. I’d seen this before in young men and typically found it disingenuous and unappealing. However, something about this young man’s demeanor made it friendly and endearing.

  “All right then, Will,” I said as I took his arm. “Have you lived here long?”

  He sighed dramatically as he steered me around the other guests. “Only my entire life. My ancestors were some of the founding members of Brinkman. They made their fortunes in shipping and business in Chicago and then sought the quiet life here away from it all, but close enough to visit civilization whenever things got too quiet.”

  I nodded and smiled. The jacket sleeve under my hand showed wear and the cuff bore careful darning. Any fortune the Edwards ancestors might have made was dwindling. It was odd how a family who had once been wealthy were more welcome in good society than a family who had only recently amassed a great fortune. From the waves and friendly greetings, Will was well liked and his family was solidly embraced by these people despite the shaky nature of their finances.

  “Where were you before coming here?” He asked me.

  “I lived with my grandparents in St. Louis since I was five years old,” I explained as Will pulled out my chair and settled me into it. “I’ve been at finishing school for the past six years.”

  “Finishing school? Goodness, that sounds dreadful,” he winced as he slouched next to me. “My parents sent me to a school for a few years, but I was kicked out twice before they gave up on that horrible idea.”

  And because he was so casual, I had no qualms about asking, “What did you do to get expelled twice?”

  A rather long story about a snake who was forced into a shoe, a desk drawer, and then a water jug ensued. Will had a delightful, self-deprecating way of telling his tale and I found myself laughing into my handkerchief several times. I then shared a story about mischief that was caused at the school I’d attended as the first course was served. By the time the final course was brought out, the two of us were fast friends.

  I was forced to endure almost an hour of polite conversation about people I didn’t know with the ladies while the gentlemen retreated to the study. Just as I was about to nod off, the door to the parlor opened and the men returned. I didn’t want to make a beeline for Will in case he wasn’t as eager to continue our conversation as I was. I was, therefore, quite pleased when he found his way to my side.

  “Was it dreadful?” He asked conspiratorially.

  I attempted tact and demurred, “I learned a great deal about the trouble the daylilies are having with this wet weather.” But Will caught my raised eyebrow and the glint in my eye and grinned back at me.

  “Riveting stuff, that. I had to endure a discussion of the war in Cuba which has been over for a decade. I could hardly reign in my enthusiasm.”

  I snickered behind my hand. “I suppose you’ve known all these people for most of your life.”

  Will’s eyes roamed the room. “They’ve all known each other forever. You’d think they’d grow tired of throwing these dull parties and stay home. I’ve heard the same stories a dozen times.”

  “Well, I haven’t heard any of them. What’s all the juiciest gossip?” It wasn’t like me to be so daring, but something about Will freed me to loosen my usual restraints.

  “I suppose you mean who is having affairs and who stole from the church funds. I’m afraid what I can tell you is nowhere near as interesting as what I heard about the murder at the Dennis’ tonight.”

  “Who told you about that?” I was surprised. My father gave off the impression of being as closed as a fortress.

  “Oh, servants talk.” Will waved off my concern airily. “Someone over there told the butcher’s boy who passed on the word to the cook at the next house and so on. If you want to know the real story about anything, go to the help.”

  It was good advice and it made me curious about what the Dennis’ servants might know. “I wondered if my father had said something.”

  “Old Stonewall Lunceford? Not likely,” scoffed Will. “He’s as tight lipped as ever. I don’t suppose one becomes the chief of police by spilling secrets.”

  “That may be, but it just so happens that I was at the Dennis’ tonight and the Miss and Mrs. Dennis told me some very interesting facts I have yet to pass on to the police chief.” I lifted my eyebrows at Will and smiled smugly. There was something about my new friend that made me want to throw off the rules as he did so easily.

  “You naughty girl,” he cooed. “Do tell.”

  I considered whether or not it would be wise to discuss what I’d learned with my new acquaintance. He certainly had an air of being nonthreatening, but I didn’t really know him. After years at a girls’ school, I’d learned many painful lessons about sharing secrets with people who didn’t handle them with care. What I knew about the Dennises was hardly a deep, dark secret, though. If Will told someone what I revealed, it wouldn’t be particularly devastating. The police were bound to figure it out anyway and it could serve as a test to help me to know if my new friend was trustworthy or not.

  “A maid, Flora Dobson, was stabbed to death in the laundry room tonight,” I began.

  “That’s hardly a secret,” he prodded.

  “True, but my father would h
ave preferred I not know even that much.”

  “Poor dear. Luckily, you’re more resourceful than that.”

  I grinned. “You’re quite apt, Will Edwards. You’re also right. Flora Dobson had only worked at the Dennis’ house for a few days when she was killed and she wasn’t especially well liked by the other girls.”

  “Interesting,” he mused, swirling the dregs of his drink in his glass absentmindedly. “There are so many possibilities, the mind boggles; rivalry between maids, an illicit affair, hiding from a cruel husband.”

  “I doubt it’s a rivalry since she had arrived so recently,” I pointed out.

  “They could know each other from years past. Servants don’t stay for long at any one house. Most only stay a year or two at most before they search for greener pastures.”

  He was right. Servants who worked their way to senior positions stayed where they were for longer since they were in a position of authority, but the lower servants felt little loyalty to the families for which they worked. It was certainly in the realm of possibility that Flora Dobson had worked with someone in the Dennis house previously.

  “A rivalry is possible,” Will continued, “but not as intriguing as if she was having an affair with someone.”

  “With whom would she have an affair? She’d only been there a few days,” I challenged him, enjoying this game immensely.

  “It could be someone at the last house where she worked.” He snapped his fingers. “That could be the reason why she left! What if the mistress caught her with her son or her husband or the stable master? She’d throw her out on her ear without giving her a character.”

  Again, I knew that this happened all the time. Grandmother always tutted about the loose morals of the lower class when we heard whispers of these sorts of trysts. I thought this was entirely overlooking the loose morals of the upper classmen and the refusal of their wives to acknowledge what was happening. Besides, I’d heard rumors of society men who forced their attention on their servants who were then thrown out as though they’d done something wrong.

  I drummed my fingers on the window ledge Will’s elbow was leaning upon. “Mrs. Dennis said she got a good reference about Flora from a friend. Would she have written it if she knew Flora was involved with someone in her household?”

  Will’s face crumpled and I held back a giggle. He was taking this so seriously. I’d stymied him momentarily, but he was back with a retort in no time.

  “Perhaps the mistress didn’t know about it. Perhaps Flora found she was in the family way and left of her own accord.”

  My cheeks burned at this talk. It wasn’t the least bit proper to discuss such things with a young man. Even though we were only speculating in a sort of game, my grandmother would have been shocked to hear it. I’d had little enough casual contact with young men to know how to handle such crudeness.

  “What was your other idea?” I tried to change the subject. “Hiding from someone?”

  “Oh yes,” Will took the bait and veered off to a new topic, “from a cruel husband.”

  “That’s certainly a possibility,” I mused. “The Dennises would know nothing of it and she’d try to keep her distance from the other maids for fear of spilling her secret.”

  “We’ve solved the case,” Will announced, laughter coloring the edge of his words. “We should go to the police immediately and tell them the good news.”

  “Yes, of course. All they’ll need to do is to find the evidence to prove our theory.”

  “Oh, that’s all. They should be thanking us for doing their work for them,” Will joked.

  I smiled at him. It was such a refreshing change to have a man take me seriously when discussing such serious matters. I was still angry at Father and Calvin Lloyd for treating me like a silly schoolgirl. Even though Will and I were making light of the situation, he never once made me feel foolish or suggested I should leave such things to the men.

  He decided he needed to refill his drink and went in search of someone to help. I stood and considered how grateful I was to find a friend at the Charles’ party. We were the only two young people and we’d hit it off. When Father mentioned the supper party, I’d wondered if there would be anyone within a decade of my age. I’d sat through quite enough such events at my grandparents’ house in St. Louis. Will’s company was a delightful surprise.

  I watched him from across the room, trying to decide whether or not I found him attractive. He was tall and thin, though his shoulders were broad enough, I supposed. With the sort of curling hair that women would have died for and men found extremely tiresome. His thick curls were mouse brown and his eyes were a forgetful blue gray. There was an aura of youthfulness about him that made it difficult to think serious romantic thoughts about him. Perhaps it was his ears that stuck out just a bit too much or his too-thin face. I had a feeling that he was a few years away from reaching his fullest potential and, again, this made him seem young. Well, it seemed we were well matched in that respect, I thought.

  “I had an idea,” Will said as soon as he returned to my side, his glass now sparkling with an amber liquid.

  “Should I worry?” I teased him.

  He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Probably. I think you should investigate the murder on your own.”

  My own eyebrows lifted. “Why on earth do you think that?”

  “Think about it, Rose,” Will hunched over intently as he worked to make his point. “The policemen might go and ask the maids what they know, but if a woman speaks with them, it would be something else entirely. They might be more comfortable with you. They might start talking and say something important that they don’t even know is important. Some little detail that only we know matters.”

  “My father wouldn’t like me to get involved,” I shrugged uncomfortably. As much as I wanted to be daring in order to impress Will, I was reluctant to actually do something to earn my father’s ire. “He was surprised that I knew anything about the case at all even after he’d had me sit with two members of the household for almost twenty minutes.”

  “If you can find something helpful, he’ll be glad you got involved no matter what he might say to the contrary.”

  I struggled with this idea. I was certainly curious enough to try and find out more about the crime, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do something I was so sure my father wouldn’t like.

  “Where’s the harm?” Will goaded. “If you ask a few questions and don’t learn anything new, you can always quit. They’re sure to chalk it up to you being nosy.”

  I pursed my lips and thought it over. Father had never told me directly to stay out of it. He didn’t order me to leave the police work to him and his men. Paula had asked me to visit, so I had an invitation to return and it would only be natural to ask questions about what had happened. It might even be rude if I didn’t bring it up. There was always the chance that she would welcome my help and make it easy for me to speak with her servants.

  The idea that swayed me most firmly, though, was the thought of Calvin Lloyd. It would be so wonderfully satisfying to learn something that would help Father that Cal missed. The two of them would have to admit that, even though I was a lady, I could understand and stomach knowing about the crimes they investigated. Oh, how I would relish telling Father what I’d learned, knowing his own top detective had let him down!

  “I’ll do it,” I said with a firm nod.

  Will rocked back on his heels and gave me a crooked smile. “Excellent. Make sure you fill me in on whatever you find out. I’d offer to come along, but Father’s found me a job at his office and I can’t always get away. I’ll need something to keep my mind occupied while I do that dull work. You’ll keep me out of the nut house, Rose.”

  We passed the rest of the evening flitting between a variety of topics of conversation. Mr. Charles joined us for a while before drifting off to speak with my father. We were mostly left alone and I found that I far preferred it that way. Will Edwards was one of the rare people who was a
s comfortable to be around as if we’d known each other for years. By the time Father and I climbed into our carriage, Will promised to visit just as soon as he could. He’d already promised to escort me to a get-together the following week, describing with great detail all of the other young people who were sure to be in attendance.

  “You certainly hit it off with the young Edwards lad,” Father pointed out needlessly as the carriage rumbled down the drive.

  “Yes, I certainly did,” I said with satisfaction. I’d made my first friend in Brinkman.

  Chapter Three

  “Cal will be joining us for supper,” Father announced, out of the blue, the next morning.

  I’d been reading the local newspaper, the Brinkman Register, and had almost forgotten his presence. I looked up at my father, eyes wide, completely at sea. “Who?”

  “You met him last night at the Dennis’. Detective Lloyd.”

  Despite my intention to keep a placid face, my lip curled slightly at the reminder of the man who’d been so demeaning to me.

  The move wasn’t lost on my father who harrumphed and said, “Rose, you need to understand that Cal is, well, I guess you’d say he’s my protege. He comes here for supper at least three times a week.”

  That was not the news I was hoping to hear first thing in the morning. This time I was able to stifle my groan, though it was a near thing. Having to spend hours every week in the presence of Calvin Lloyd was not the sort of news I’d hoped to hear.

  “He’s an excellent detective,” Father continued, trying to change my opinion of the man. “I think he’ll make an outstanding police chief one day.”

  If the criteria for police chief was disregarding young women who were clever enough to understand their cases, then Father had found the perfect man to mentor. Both of them seemed to think that my interest in Flora’s death was an anomaly. Living in a house with a policeman who had interesting cases but was completely unwilling to tell me about them was unacceptable. I was accustomed to being ignored by my father. However, we now shared a home once again and I was determined to change his mind about my ability to understand his work.