Murder of the Mysterious Maid Read online

  “It’s only natural,” I replied pertly. The two men opened their mouths to argue and I hurried on. “You had me sit with the two ladies last evening right after a dead girl was found in their home. It’s only natural for them to need to talk about what had happened. I’m new in town and Paula Dennis was friendly to me. It’s only natural for me to visit my only female friend in town. While I was there, it was only natural for the subject of the murder to come up. If a maid came into the room, we would, naturally, ask her questions.”

  “I don’t know if I like my daughter being so comfortable with the idea of criminal behavior.” Father took a bite to punctuate his point.

  I didn’t even try to hide my rolling eyes.

  “It isn’t the sort of thing that young ladies ought to concern themselves with,” Cal agreed. “It’s a police matter and could be dangerous.”

  Mouth in a tight line, I looked between the two of them and felt anger bubbling over. Despite my ability to find information the police hadn’t thought to look for, they were still dismissing me based on my sex. “That’s absurd,” I said in a measured voice. “I might be a woman with good breeding, but I’m not ignorant. I care about more than fashions and gossip.”

  “There, there, dear,” Father broke in before I could go on. He patted my hand. “I dare say you’ve inherited intelligence and curiosity from your parents. You’re right, it’s only natural for you to be interested in the case.”

  It wasn’t the apologetic appreciation I’d been looking for, but it was a step in the right direction.

  “I wouldn’t want my daughter putting herself in danger,” Cal said, shaking his head.

  “No, no, of course not,” Father conceded. “Do be careful, Rose?” He turned back to Cal, excluding me from the conversation. “Now, have we made any progress on those burglaries?”

  “Each one was committed when the family was out and the servants otherwise occupied. The burglars must have been watching the houses carefully.” Cal’s voice had resurrected its confidence and was shutting me out completely.

  Their conversation continued without me, never venturing back to Flora’s murder.

  A lesser woman would have slumped in defeat. I, however, grew more determined to knock Calvin Lloyd down a peg. As the two of them prattled on, my anger and annoyance cooled to a determined simmer. Wouldn’t they be surprised when I presented them with the very killer they’d been looking for?

  Tomorrow I would telephone Will and we would make a plan for what to do next.

  ***

  Unlike Cal, Will was full of enthusiasm for my continued interest in the case. He was so excited, in fact, that he took off the entire next day from work so that we could be free to pursue any leads that came to mind. Of course, he would have gladly taken time away from work if it so much as rained, so I tried to keep from letting myself grow too self-important.

  As we sat on the back veranda formulating our plan, I looked Will over with a critical eye. I was reminded forcibly of a wiggly puppy. He couldn’t seem to keep still despite his propensity to flop himself into whatever seat he took. His fingers tapped, his leg jiggled, or his shoulders twitched wherever he was. I still couldn’t make up my mind as to whether or not he was handsome, though, I could understand why Paula Dennis had found him so interesting.

  However, I wasn’t attracted to him particularly. His refusal to take responsibility was a perfect foil for my too-serious tendencies. Together we brought out the best in each other. Yet, I couldn’t imagine having to deal with so much impishness on a daily basis. Will had a lot of growing up to do before he was ready to take a wife. This was reassuring to me since his marriage would be sure to change our friendship forever. A single woman could not be friends with a married man without raising eyebrows.

  “What’s next?” he asked, bouncing in his seat.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “There’s so much we don’t know.”

  “Who killed Flora Dobson, for instance,” he quipped.

  I gave him an indulgent grin. “We don’t know much about her. Where did she come from? What did she do before coming to Brinkman? Is she married? What is her family like?”

  “I think we should start with her history. Once we know why she came here, we’ll be able to start figuring out why someone would want her dead.” Will’s legs jiggled with repressed energy.

  “The only thing we know about Flora from before her time at the Dennis’ is that she worked for someone Mrs. Dennis knew. I believe she said that the recommendation came from a friend.” I tried to recall our first conversation.

  “Then we need to find the name of that friend.” Will popped up. “We could write to this former employer to find out if they knew anything more about Flora. We might even take the train and visit. That way, we could ask all the questions we want.”

  “We’ll have to go back to see Paula,” I said, watching for his reaction.

  “Oh, the sacrifices I make in the pursuit of justice.” He threw an arm over his eyes.

  I laughed as we headed inside to gather my things. Hat and gloves in place, we were soon striding down the walk in what was becoming a familiar way. The walk between our house and the Dennises was less than a mile and in this fine weather, it was an easy trip. I hoped that Paula would be as happy to see us today as she was the previous day. Bringing Will along seemed like it couldn’t hurt, particularly if Paula was a bit sweet on him.

  Sure enough, she smiled warmly at me but almost glowed in Will’s direction when we were led into the morning room by Annie.

  “How good of you to visit,” Paula purred. “Are you still investigating?” She motioned for us to sit. “Do you have time for tea?”

  “Yes, please,” Will nodded agreeably.

  I hid a smile. His reluctance to be snared in Paula Dennis’ marriage trap did not mean that he would pass up refreshments. I had to admit, Paula knew her prey well. In Will’s case, the best way to his heart was most definitely through his stomach.

  “We were wondering about where Flora was before coming here,” I explained once Annie had been sent to the kitchen. “Would it be possible for us to see her letter of recommendation?”

  “Certainly. I’m sure it’s in Mother’s desk.” Paula went to a decidedly feminine table and rummaged through the accumulation of papers. It took only a moment before she straightened, holding an envelope in her hand. “Here it is.”

  “Who’s it from?” Will asked.

  “Mrs. John Shannon in Chicago.” Paula strode over and handed me the letter.

  I read it quickly. It was the typical sort of thing that women wrote dozens of times over their tenure as lady of the house. It simply stated that Flora Dobson had worked for the Shannons for several months and there were no complaints against her.

  “How well does your mother know Mrs. Shannon?” I asked having reached the end of the letter.

  Paula considered. “Not very well. I believe that they became acquainted when the Shannons were in Brinkman visiting a cousin or a business associate.” She laughed. “I don’t recall exactly. They were here briefly and made the usual round of dinners and garden parties.”

  “Your mother called Mrs. Shannon a friend,” I pointed out.

  Shaking her head, Paula said, “I don’t think Mother meant it. She promotes people to her inner circle of friendship whenever it suits her conversation. If they’ve exchanged more than a handful of letters since they met, I’d be very much surprised.”

  The tea arrived and we were soon busy with finger sandwiches, small cakes, and steaming cups.

  “I’ll write to Mrs. Shannon right away,” I promised. “Perhaps we’ll hear back from her in a few weeks.”

  Will put down the sandwich he’d been about to devour and said, “I know a faster way.”

  “You do?” Paula snatched up the opportunity to engage Will in conversation. “What do you propose?” I wondered if her use of the word was intentional.

  Will grimaced and said, “I have a friend who i
s a telephone operator. If we go to see her, she’ll help put us in contact with the Shannons.”

  “What if they don’t have a telephone? Not everyone does,” I asked.

  “Then you can write your letter. We won’t be any worse off and maybe we’ll catch a break.”

  Paula was slightly wounded when she quietly asked, “Who’s your friend at the telephone company?”

  “Her name’s Nancy. She’s quite obliging. I have no doubt she’ll agree to help us.”

  I couldn’t tell if he had missed the effect his words had on Paula. She wilted a bit at the mention of a female friend. Had Will been clever to mention another girl or had he been oblivious? Having a female friend didn’t mean that he was no longer a potential husband. After all, I was his friend and my presence didn’t appear to have any dampening effect on Paula’s marital hopes. Was she, even now, picturing him as a ladies’ man who flitted from girl to girl?

  Thinking it would be wise, I changed the subject and we discussed the weather, our families’ health, and the recent burglaries. The talk was light and easy. Soon the tray bore only crumbs and we made our excuses.

  “Shall we go to the telephone office right away?” Will asked once we were walking down the drive.

  “By all means,” I agreed, surveying him from out of the corner of my eye. “That was very subtle of you, back there.”

  “Why, Miss Lunceford, I have no idea what you mean,” he protested, tossing me a cheeky wink.

  Chapter Six

  “How do you know this Nancy?” I couldn’t help prodding. “I doubt she runs in your usual social circle.”

  “That shows how little you know of me,” Will lifted his nose in mock snootiness. “I am a man who travels in many and varied social circles. I am as comfortable with the elite as with the peasants. I’ll have you know that my acquaintance with Nancy began at a friendship dance put on by the local church. We danced many dances together and held hands as I walked her home.”

  “How very shocking,” I teased. “Will you be announcing your engagement soon?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, all silliness draining away. “Things are different with girls who aren’t debutantes. Their reputations aren’t ruined by dancing with the same guy half a dozen times or letting a boy walk her home. It’s one of the reasons why I like going to those dances.”

  “No rules?” I clarified.

  “Fewer rules, at least. I can have a good time and enjoy a girl’s company without it meaning that we have to be married. No one has to watch us or speculate about what it means when we hold hands.”

  “You seem to know all the rules when it comes to girls like Paula Dennis,” I challenged him.

  He shrugged. “I know the rules, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them. Don’t you ever get tired of everyone watching you all the time? They act as though the littlest thing is important when really it’s just a little thing. I have to be so careful to keep girls like Paula Dennis from thinking I have intentions to marry them.”

  “You don’t seem to be particularly careful with me,” I pointed out.

  “You don’t want to marry me,” he answered honestly. “You aren’t looking for any hint that I might propose. Your father would hate it if I asked for your hand. Though, now that I think about it, that might be a very enjoyable reason to do that very thing.”

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “I’m not going to marry a girl like Nancy. She’s just one of those girls I pass an evening with.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Does she know that?”

  “She can’t possibly expect anything more from me. We’re from such different worlds.” He shrugged.

  “That might not have sunk in to her. It’s possible that she expects rather a lot of you.”

  Will shrugged again and I felt my annoyance growing. He was acting very callous about a girl he’d spent an evening with. Getting her hopes up like that seemed almost cruel. Despite what he thought, even poor girls wanted to marry well and I had a feeling that a charming fellow like Will would draw the attention of many young women.

  Before I could point this out, Will spoke up. “My family’s fortune is gone. Father has a good business, but it won’t do anything to restore us to our former glory.” His face twisted with resentment at this. “My mother has told me again and again that I must marry a girl with a good dowry. If I don’t, the old families in town will eventually cease to tolerate us and we’ll be little more than middle-class has-beens.”

  My heart went out to him even as a nasty little voice in my head wondered if this was why he was spending time with me. My grandparents were very wealthy and, as I was their only living heir, I stood to inherit everything upon their deaths. There was no doubt that they would provide a generous dowry when I married. My future inheritance would certainly be enough to restore Will’s family to their former glory. Did he know that? Was that why he chose to spend so much time with me?

  “Paula Dennis seems keen on you,” I pointed out, pushing these gloomy thoughts away.

  “Most young ladies are keen on any single gentleman who crosses their paths.” He frowned. “It’s all part of this ridiculous game we’re all forced to play.”

  “What game is that?”

  “The game of marrying as well as you can. It’s almost as though we’re all evaluated and put in some strange order of desirability. Your score rises if you have an old family or if you’re wealthy. It drops if your money is new or spent by people who died before you were born. Then we all have to try and catch a spouse with the highest score possible.” He pulled a tall weed up and used it to swipe at the tall grass in the empty lot we were passing.

  “It does seem like a game at times,” I conceded. “You don’t have to play it, though. Some people marry partners they love. My mother married my father and he was just a policeman.”

  “Your mother was wealthy and had a good name. It didn’t hurt her reputation too badly. I, on the other hand, have very few points. I’ll have to marry the wealthiest girl who’ll have me, never mind if I like her or not.” The bitterness in his voice tugged at my heart.

  “I’m sorry, Will,” I touched his arm.

  He looked away for a long moment. When he turned back, the mischievous smile was back in place. “That’s why I’m determined to have as much fun as possible before I’m forced to marry some boring society girl.”

  We reached the telephone company soon after and I was relieved of the task of trying to cheer him up. His smile couldn’t fool me. I knew that he hated the idea of being forced into a marriage he didn’t want. It wasn’t unusual, though. The lower classes were allowed to marry whom they wished, but the upper echelons required their children to marry well. It was like a very refined sort of horse breeding. Will was right, it did feel like a game sometimes.

  I wondered how Father would feel when it came time for me to marry. Would he remember his forbidden love for my mother and allow me to marry where my heart chose? Or would he bow to the mandates of the people he now called friends and expect me to marry someone with a good name?

  I will admit this here, dear reader, though it is the only place I will confess it. As I thought of my parents’ romance, the face the flashed in my mind was Cal Lloyd. You can imagine my humiliation at the thought? Marrying Calvin Lloyd? What could be wrong with me? Was I little more than one of those foolish girls who allowed a handsome face to cloud her judgment? He was condescending and unlikeable. There was no one on the entire planet who was less likely to be the love of my life than Cal. Still, the thought had appeared of its own volition and I must confess it.

  “Is Nancy here?” Will asked the girl at the front desk. “We need to speak with her.”

  “She’s working,” the girl snapped, glaring at us over the top of her spectacles. “You’ll have to wait until her shift is over.”

  I stepped forward. “Excuse me, but my father is the chief of police and we need to speak with Nancy on a police matter.” I used all my high
-society authority and hoped that my slight fib wouldn’t be caught.

  The girl took in my tailored jacket, spotless white gloves, and elegant hat, and pointed the way toward the switchboard.

  “Good work,” Will whispered in my ear as we walked. “Fast thinking.”

  I lifted my chin haughtily. “I pretended to be my grandmother. No one refuses any request she makes.”

  We exchanged a smile.

  I’d never seen a telephone operator’s workplace before. It was fascinating. Two young women sat primly in front of large wooden switchboards. As calls came in, they made connections. I couldn’t understand how they knew where to put each plug, but the girls worked almost without looking at what their hands were doing.

  Will stepped up and tapped a dark-haired woman on the shoulder. She turned around in surprise and her face lit up.

  “Will, what are you doing here?” Her eyes slid to me and her enthusiasm dimmed noticeably.

  “We need your help, Nancy. This is my friend, Rose Lunceford. Her father is the chief of police and we’re looking into a recent murder. We need to contact a woman in Chicago, but we don’t know her telephone number. I knew you were just the person to ask.”

  A bit of her sparkle returned. “Of course I can help. If she has a telephone, I can find her. What’s her name?”

  Will wrote down her married name and passed it over. With a sly glance at him, Nancy turned back to her switchboard and got to work. I was amazed at the confident way she navigated the system. In under five minutes, she was turning to us and covering the mouthpiece she spoke into.

  “Which of you would like to speak with her?”

  “You do it,” Will pushed me forward. “You know more about this than I do.”

  Which is how I came to sit in Nancy’s seat, speaking with a woman I’d never met. I explained to Mrs. Shannon who I was and what I was calling about.