Betting on Death Read online

  Our newest client thanked us primly before ringing for the butler who showed us out the door briskly.

  On the street once again, I turned to my partner. “What do you think, Will?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the wind. “There’s a good chance she’s imagining things. The fact that she doesn’t know how much silver is missing could mean that nothing is wrong. Still, a painting is missing. If we learn that she gave those items away as wedding presents ten years ago, I’m going to be disappointed.”

  “True, but we will be paid to investigate it. The coffers of L&E Investigations will not be disappointed at all.”

  “Hooray for capitalism, then,” Will smirked at me. “Are you expecting company for supper tonight?”

  I tried to act nonchalant even as I felt myself blush. “I never know when Mr. Lloyd will grace us with his presence. He is never issued a formal invitation, and so he cannot give a formal response. Father would know better than I if we will have to suffer the man’s presence.”

  “Suffer, of course,” Will said with an entirely obnoxious know-it-all grin. “You simply hate being in the presence of the handsome detective, Calvin Lloyd.”

  The trouble with having a friend who knew me so well was that my attempts at a ruse were wasted.

  “Paula Dennis looked well today,” I countered and enjoyed watching the smirk slide from Will’s face.

  Chapter Two

  I must stop and make myself quite clear on the matter of Calvin Lloyd. If you are familiar with my first experience with detective work, then you will know our shaky history. It is true that he is extremely handsome and is very intelligent. I will admit that he and I have had a number of friendly interactions over the past few months. However, this does not excuse the fact that Calvin Lloyd is arrogant and condescending. Sadly, he is my father’s protégé, and as such, comes to eat at our table at least twice a week.

  Cal does not approve of my work as an investigator because it is too dangerous. It matters little to him that Father believes it to be a good idea, nor that I successfully solved the murder of Flora Dobson. Never mind that Will and I were able to find many clues that the police did not.

  I will be quite frank here, though I would never confess it elsewhere. When I first see Calvin Lloyd, my stomach leaps, my cheeks flush and my heart begins to gallop. No matter how many times I remind myself of how he had the audacity to tell me not to form a romantic attachment to him, I cannot stop thrilling at the sight of him. There are even times when just the mention of his name begins all these ridiculous symptoms of my foolishness.

  And so, it was with both relief and disappointment that I learned that Cal would not be joining us for supper that evening. Harrison, our butler, informed me that Father would be late as well.

  “Goodness, it must be something quite serious to keep Father from his supper,” I said with raised eyebrows.

  “I believe a body has been found,” Harrison replied with his usual stoicism. It never failed to amaze me that he was able to show so little emotion regardless of what was happening in the world around him. Was this a trait of all butlers? Or was it learned over time?

  On the other hand, I clutched at my heart. “Was someone murdered? Or was the death accidental?” I asked automatically. There must be some sort of unusual circumstances to warrant Father’s involvement. The chief of police did not visit the site of those poor souls who’d died of pneumonia or old age.

  “I believe it was a murder, Miss Lunceford, but your father did not have all the facts when he left.”

  “Thank you, Harrison,” I replied, curiosity swirling around me.

  The middle-aged man bowed and left the room with great dignity, in stark contrast to the topic of our conversation.

  Since I knew so little, it did no good to speculate on what Father and Cal might be doing, no matter how sorely I was tempted. I ate supper alone and then went to the parlor to read. Despite my eagerness to learn the particulars of the case, I was able to immerse myself in my book. Only when the clock struck the hour did I look up, wonder at their lateness, and then force my attention back to the volume in my hands.

  It was after eight o’clock when the sounds of the carriage announced their arrival. I could hear two male voices and made certain to look as though I was completely uninterested in their presence since one of those men was sure to be Calvin Lloyd.

  The door opened and they entered the foyer. Harrison materialized and dealt with hats, coats and Father’s walking stick. I always marveled at how much Father must have changed since his marriage to Mother. He’d been a lowly detective then and Mother had been a lady of society. Now he thought nothing of using a gold-tipped stick or handing things to his butler. After years of living with my mother’s parents who still bemoaned her choice of husband even ten years after her death, I was occasionally surprised at how debonair my father had become.

  “Good evening, Rose,” he said and came in to kiss my cheek.

  “Good evening, Father,” I replied, ignoring Cal completely. I wasn’t soon to forget his protestations about my opening a detecting agency. “You must be hungry. Shall I ring for some supper?”

  “No need. Harrison is having Cook prepare something now.” He settled into his favorite chair with a groan of pleasure.

  Calvin Lloyd took a seat without being invited. He carefully avoided catching my eye and I gave him the same courtesy. I’m ashamed to admit that I did admire him out of the corner of my eye. Even after a long day of police work, he still managed to look very handsome. I don’t know if I was more put out that he looked so attractive or that I’d noticed.

  Let me pause here to describe him for you. It’s good practice for a rising private investigator, naturally. Cal is a few inches short of six feet and is moderately built. He is neither too slim nor too wide. As he is very active for work, he strikes me as being well muscled and athletic. He has dark blonde hair, warm brown eyes and a full mustache which he keeps trimmed and which makes him look extremely dashing. His face is serious and thoughtful except for when he is being condescending, in which case his face becomes obnoxious and all-knowing.

  Cal has a tragic past. His young wife died in childbirth along with their expected baby. Perhaps this is the cause of his seriousness and caution. I know it’s why he told me that he wasn’t interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with anyone. I drift between understanding this and balking that he would say such a thing to me at all. To the world, I think about how offended I am that he would presume I might be considering such a relationship with him. Inwardly, I fear that I was being too obvious in my admiration of him.

  “What can you tell me about the case?” I leaned forward eagerly, ignoring Cal’s frown.

  Father chuckled at my interest. “I had a feeling you’d want all the details. There are some things I can’t share with you, my dear, but I’ll tell you what I can. I know I can count on your discretion.”

  I nodded earnestly.

  “A man by the name of Hugh Meriwether was found dead in his home. Meriwether is - or I should say, was - a bookie. Do you know what a bookie is?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

  I didn’t know my father well enough to know whether or not he would be disappointed or impressed that I possessed this knowledge. Either way, it wasn’t in me to hide any learning I’d gained. “Yes, a bookie collects bets and then pays out winnings or collects losings on those bets.”

  “That’s right,” Father said slowly and cocked a thick eyebrow at me. “Rose, I sometimes wonder at the education you received in that finishing school. You know a great deal more than a young lady should.”

  It wasn’t said with a reproving tone, as it would have been if Cal had said the same thing. Therefore, I shrugged and said, “I’m very well read. Please continue with the details of this crime.”

  My father’s mouth tipped up on one side. “Very well. Meriwether was certainly murdered. He was found in his front room, sprawled on the floo
r, with a broken statue lying next to him.”

  I pictured it in my mind. “What a messy scene that must have been,” I murmured.

  Father cleared his throat and Cal jumped in. “Oddly enough, there wasn’t much blood.”

  For the first time, I let myself look his way. He was leaning forward as though unable to relax. The expression on his face spoke of his dislike of my involvement and his simultaneous inability to stay out of the conversation.

  I would never suggest that he wasn’t a good policeman. Cal was very good at his job and had a great passion for solving crimes. It was one more thing that I both liked about him and found very annoying at times. Why was he allowed to be passionate about detective work and so disapprove of me doing the same thing?

  “There wasn’t much blood?” I mused. “That is strange indeed. Head wounds typically bleed a great deal.” I caught Father’s speculative eye and I smiled. “I once read an article about treating head wounds. I believe it had been written for nurses. Still, I found it very informative.”

  I avoided Cal’s eye and focused on Father’s amusement. At least one of the men in this room found my intelligence endearing. “Will you have an autopsy performed?”

  “Of course,” Cal waved that off.

  I frowned at his tone. Autopsies weren’t always conducted since they were time consuming and costly. In fact, if a man was hit over the head, it was entirely possible that the police force might decide the death was obvious and refuse an autopsy. I’d read a lot and listened to my father talk about these matters. Cal’s condescension was not appreciated.

  “It’s highly likely that this murder was due to the victim’s line of work, don’t you agree, Cal?” Father turned his attention to business and I listened in gladly.

  “Gambling is extremely dangerous,” the young detective nodded. “I believe that Meriwether was the sort of man who had allowed it to be absorbed into all areas of his life. If he was seeing a woman, she would most likely be a gambling moll. All his associates are sure to be in the same line of work. Other than chance encounters, the vast majority of his interactions with people would be through his work as a bookie.”

  “Gambling has become more problematic over the past ten years. I remember when I started out on the force and we didn’t have more than a handful of bookies in the town who promoted low-level gambling.” Father sighed.

  Again, Cal nodded eagerly. His enthusiasm for anything Father said was grating on my nerves. “The changing laws all over the country are making for a great deal of difficulty. There’s been a boom in gambling rings everywhere, from what I can gather.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t help that Brinkman is so close to Chicago,” I chipped in and then ignored Cal’s disapproving expression. “Such a big city allows for all kinds of sporting events.”

  “That’s certainly true,” Father agreed.

  It was at that moment that Harrison arrived to announce that a late supper was ready in the dining room for the men. They arose and led the way with me trailing behind. I was eager to learn more about this case; my curiosity was humming with excitement. Even though I was sure to have little to do with it, my investigative mind had pounced on the mystery and was reluctant to let it go.

  Once the men were settled with full plates and glasses, they quickly returned to the conversation they’d been having in the parlor.

  “The real trouble, of course, is the enforcers,” Cal said before taking the bite waiting on his fork.

  “Enforcers?” I asked, interest piqued. “What are enforcers?”

  Father chuckled. “I’m glad to know you don’t know everything about the criminal world.”

  I blushed faintly and ignored Cal’s frown.

  “Enforcers are the men who work for bookies. Their job is to make sure that people pay what they owe.” Father explained.

  I bit my lip and considered that. “What happens to people who can’t pay?”

  “The enforcers take payment by breaking bones or burning down houses,” Cal said bleakly. “Of course, it’s difficult for the police to convict these sorts of crimes since most people are unwilling to admit that they are involved in illegal gambling rings. We have a long list of enforcers and damage we’re sure they’ve done, but no complaining witnesses.”

  Empathy rose in me. I knew that Cal was a man who believed in justice and the rightness of the police force. Knowing who was hurting people and being unable to act would chafe him just as much as it chafed me. Enforcers deserved to pay for their crimes and bookies should not be allowed to take money from people who couldn’t afford it.

  “Where will you begin investigating? Is it possible that one of Meriwether’s enforcers is to blame?” I asked.

  Cal considered this as he finished his bite and took a swig from his glass. “It’s possible. If Meriwether took a girl from one of the enforcers or if he didn’t pay what was due, one of them might have turned on him.”

  “What if a rival bookie paid an enforcer to do the job?”

  “It’s an idea,” Cal said slowly. “However, there are many potentially angry clients that we need to consider first. We haven’t had any bookie rivalries turn violent in a long time and never have we had one produce a murder. I think we’ll start by seeing who owes Meriwether a great deal of money and can’t pay.”

  Father put down his glass. “I agree. A disgruntled client is very likely the murderer. When money and honor get involved, many men are willing to take drastic measures.”

  The conversation moved on to other things and I excused myself to read in the parlor. My mind returned to the murder, though, and I had to admit that I was glad I didn’t have such a big case to tackle. Finding Meriwether’s clients would be difficult enough, never mind interviewing each and every one. If that provided no good leads, then the police would start on other bookies and people he knew from his personal life. There might be as many as a hundred suspects to consider. Though I wasn’t jealous of the amount of work they had ahead of them, I did hope an intriguing case of my own would soon present itself.

  Chapter Three

  I awoke the next morning determined to do my very best work. If I could make our agency successful by sheer will, I’d be darned if I didn’t make it happen. Father had a challenging case ahead of him and I wanted more than anything to delve into its equal. I was determined to be the best investigator I could be. I was just as much determined to prove to a certain handsome detective that I didn’t deserve his disapproval.

  But, as my maid June styled my auburn hair into a simple yet elegant style, I put a great deal of effort into pretending that my enthusiasm for my work had nothing to do with one Calvin Lloyd. I selected my dove gray walking suit with ivory lace wrap.

  “You look ready to take on the world, Miss Rose,” June said as she handed me my gloves.

  “Thank you, June,” I gave her a confident smile in the mirror. “In this dress, I feel quite professional.”

  It was very important to me that I appear competent and mature. I was no more than five feet tall and didn’t weigh much. There was very little womanliness in my stature. My capable demeanor and polished manners were my best weapons to ward off the dismissal of those who thought me too young.

  I ate a quick breakfast alone. Father had gone in to the station earlier than ever I’d seen. The sky was gray but didn’t seem to be threatening us with rain. Still, I took an umbrella from the hall stand once I’d pinned my hat in place. Then I strode out the door and made my way to the Edwards’ residence.

  “Good morning, Will,” I sang once I marched into the library, cheeks reddened from the walk.

  My partner was sitting in a chair with the newspaper in hand, elbows on his knees. He looked up and regarded me slowly. “You look ambitious today.”

  I laughed cheerily. “I want today to be the day in which we find the case that will make our names known throughout Brinkman.”

  Will yawned and reached for his coffee cup. He held it up to me and said, “I wish you al
l the best with that endeavor.”

  Ignoring his lack of enthusiasm, I laid my umbrella and hat down on a side table and perched primly on the edge of the settee.

  “Is there anything interesting in the paper today?”

  “There was a body found on Hamlet Street last evening,” he spoke from behind the wall of newspaper. “Looks like your favorite detective is on the case.” Will peaked around the edge, a teasing twinkle in his eye.

  I resisted the urge to say something scathing in reply. Will and I had a complicated relationship. We had become friends almost the instant we met. We liked each other and enjoyed each other’s company. I trusted Will and knew that he felt the same about me. We were both similar in many ways and different in others, but in such a way that we were able to work together well.

  Will had also made it plain that he considered me an eligible candidate for marriage whenever he got around to finding a bride. I had no romantic feelings of any kind for him and wasn’t sure that he had any for me. In fact, in my opinion, ours was the sort of relationship that I imagined a brother and sister might enjoy. The rest of the world, however, seemed sure that we would one day wed. It appeared that neither of us was sure that they were wrong.

  As far as husbands went, I’m sure I could do worse than Fitzwilliam Edwards. However, the romantic part of my heart yearned for something more than a good friend and an amiable match. I longed to admire and adore my husband and have those regards reciprocated. For now, Will and I settled for teasing each other about Cal and Paula Dennis. It was easier than trying to guess what the future had in store for us.

  I pursed my lips and answered, “Yes, Father visited the site and brought Mr. Lloyd home for supper. They gave me a few details of the case, though they don’t know much yet.”

  Will had nothing to say to this and read on in silence for a minute longer before folding the paper and laying it aside.

  “There were no new inquiries while I was gone?” I tried not to sound desperate.