Whispers in the Reading Room (24 page)

“My goodness! He must be happy too.”

“I think he is. Well, as much as any big brother can be when contemplating a little sister’s nuptials,” he shared with a wry smile. “It is sure to make family gatherings lively.”

She chuckled. “Indeed.”

They shared the first genuine smile between them, reminding Lydia that at the moment they were two people meeting someplace neither of their families would have ever imagined their being.

“Wish me well,” he said.

“Of course, sir. Um, has the interview concluded?”

“For now, I believe so.” He got to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time, Lieutenant. I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, Miss Bancroft. I do believe that is true. I think you might be fine anywhere.”

Ten minutes later, he returned. “If you will come with me?”

When they arrived at the main lobby, she scanned the area, anxious to see what had happened with Sebastian, Mr. Hunt, and Bridget.

There was no sign of Mr. Hunt or Bridget, but she spied Sebastian
immediately. He was standing against the front of the bar. His elbows were propped behind him, as if he was attempting to look rather bored. However, Lydia now knew him well enough to know his pose was a sham. His hands were fisted, and his eyes looked as if they were taking in every single detail that was happening around him. Actually, she rather thought he looked like one of the Siberian tigers she’d read about, ready to pounce on anything he deemed a threat.

When he turned to her, however, his look became less calculating and more concerned. So much so that she felt it like a caress. No matter how frightened she’d been when she realized earlier how little she really knew about Sebastian, she did trust him. She wanted to trust him.

She turned to the detective. “May I walk over to Mr. Marks?”

“You are free to leave, Miss Bancroft. If you would like, I will have one of my men escort you home.”

“Thank you. I will just go say good-bye to Mr. Marks.”

“Whatever you wish.”

Sebastian straightened when she approached. One by one his arms dropped and all pretense left his stance. “Lydia, are you all right?” His voice was rough with concern.

“I think so.” She attempted to smile. “It has been an exhausting evening.”

“More than that.” He nodded to one of the picture windows near the silver doors.

Looking out, she gasped. The sky had lightened. It was morning. “This is the first time I’ve ever been out all night.”

His lips twitched. “You seem excited about that.”

“I am, I suppose. This is a new experience for me.”

“I hope it won’t be anything you ever experience again. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all of this.”

Unable to help herself, she reached out and rested a palm on his lapel. It was right over his heart and therefore singularly inappropriate. But she could imagine that she felt his heart beating. Pretending she could feel the warmth of his skin and that it was enveloping her, keeping her cozy.

The muscles in his jaw jumped again. “Miss Bancroft. I fear you are forgetting yourself.”

“I have not. We are friends, Sebastian. And friends touch.”

“Not like this.”

She agreed. Placing one hand on top of his coat pocket wasn’t quite what she would consider to be a friendly connection. She would rather hold his hand.

Or, at this time of the morning, she would really rather have his arm over her shoulders and feel as if she was under his protection.

Because he seemed so uncomfortable, she dropped her hand. “What I am trying to tell you, Mr. Marks, is that I know Jason’s death is difficult, but I also know you did not have anything to do with it.”

“You don’t suspect me?”

In his face, she saw both hope and disbelief. “Of course not.”

“The police do.”

“The police don’t know you like I do.”

“It’s not like we know each other all that well.”

“It’s not like we don’t.”

He smiled. “When can you leave?”

“Now. Lieutenant Howard offered to have one of his officers take me home.”

“That is a good idea. As much as I would like to escort you myself, it might raise some eyebrows. Plus, I dare not leave until Bridget and Vincent have been allowed to leave.”

“You care for them, don’t you?”

“They’re under my employ.”

“No, I think it’s more than that. You care about them.”

He nodded, barely a flinch of his chin. “I don’t want either of them to feel that they have been left out to dry.”

For a moment, Lydia considered offering to stay, too, but then she realized she would only be in the way. Instead of giving him support, she would be yet another responsibility.

She stepped away. “I should go.”

“Are you worried about leaving with a police officer? If so, I could leave word—”

“I’ll be fine, Mr. Marks. Don’t worry about me.” She took a deep breath, then gave him her best smile. “I will be just fine.”

“I’m sure you will. I’ll make sure Bridget gets to your townhouse as soon as possible.”

“She will need her sleep. That is all I will be doing. Tell her I will see her tomorrow evening, after we have both had some sleep.”

Before he could argue, she walked to Lieutenant Howard’s side. He had been unabashedly watching and listening to their exchange. “I am ready to leave whenever one of your officers has time to take me, sir.”

“He is ready now.” Looking over at two uniformed men who were standing together talking, he barked, “Barnaby.”

Immediately the taller of the two rushed over. “Sir?”

“Please escort Miss Bancroft back to her townhouse.”

“Then return here?”

“No, meet us at the precinct. I don’t believe we’ll be here much longer.”

“Yes, sir.” Barnaby turned to her, his expression perfectly blank. “After you, miss.”

Lydia started forward, feeling her cheeks heat and burn. The
policeman knew she’d been up in Sebastian’s office with him. Alone. It was obvious that he thought she was Mr. Marks’ paramour. Just as it was obvious that he knew she was no lady.

She walked through the doors of the Silver Grotto, enjoying the rays of the morning sun hitting the pavement in front of them. The effect was bright. Illuminating.

Almost as if God himself were lighting her way home. It seemed fitting, of course. She was leaving the darkness and heading toward the light.

It was really too bad her heart didn’t feel the same way.

B
ridget hadn’t expected Mr. Marks to be waiting for her when she finished her interview with Captain Ryan.

When she walked out of their impromptu interrogation room, feeling more unkempt and exhausted than she could recall being in quite some time, all she’d been hoping for was a quiet place to lie down.

Instead she composed herself and walked to where he was standing. “Sir, I hope you haven’t been waiting for me all this time?”

“Of course I have.”

“I’m sorry. Has Mr. Hunt finished his interview as well?”

“He has. I just sent him home. He was eager to see Mary.”

“I imagine so. How may I help you, sir? Do you need me to escort Miss Bancroft home?”

“She just went home with the escort of one of the policemen.”

She was confused. “Then why are you still here, sir?”

Humor lit his eyes. “I stayed here to make sure you suffered no ill effects from your interrogation. I also want to escort you back to the Hartman.”

“But what about Miss Bancroft?” Maybe her head was filled with mud, but Bridget was having quite the time keeping up with why her employer was looking out for her.

“She asked that you see her tomorrow. She’ll be sleeping, and she wants you to rest too. After you get some sleep at the Hartman today and tonight, go back to the townhouse by tomorrow evening. Meanwhile, I have arranged for someone to watch Miss Bancroft’s home to ensure her safety.”

“Yes, sir.”

Peering at her closely, he said, “Would you like to freshen up before we head to the hotel?”

“Freshen up?”

“Yes.” He looked away. “Use the washroom.”

“Oh, yes, please.”

“While you are, um, occupied, I’ll see if I can shoo the rest of these individuals from the premises.”

“Yes, sir,” she said yet again, then walked upstairs to do as he had suggested. Only when she was out of his line of vision and she was sure there was no one else around did she dare smile. She would never admit such a thing to Mr. Marks, but she actually did so enjoy it when he was flustered.

When she returned to the bar area ten minutes later, the club was completely quiet. Well, except for the faint tapping of the toe of Mr. Marks’ well-polished shoe. It was drumming a staccato beat in time with his impatience.

He wasn’t looking for her though. Instead, he was staring out the window on the right-hand side of the door. She could only view his expression in profile, but to her way of thinking, he looked rather glum.

“I’m ready now, sir,” she said with more false brightness than she had ever imagined she could summon.

“Ah. Very good.” He opened the front door and waved her out. In his other hand he awkwardly held a rather large silver ring of keys.

After she passed through the famous silver doors, he pulled them
closed and locked them, explaining he’d told Vincent they would be closed for a while.

“It’s been quite some time since I’ve locked this place up myself. Years ago, when I bought the building, I slept here.” He looked mildly embarrassed. “I had no employees then, of course. Only a dream.”

“You achieved that dream, sir.”

“I thought I did. But this evening’s events have made me wonder.” Staring at the key ring, his voice drifted off.

“Would you like for me to hold the key ring, sir?” She held up her reticule. “I could probably fit it in my bag.”

“Of course not, Bridget. I’m not that helpless. At least, not yet.” After forcing the key ring into one of his coat’s pockets, they shared another small smile as they started walking. Of course, just like always, once the gilded façade of the Silver Grotto faded into the distance, the squalid surroundings of Camp Creek Alley became their only reality.

The alley was as quiet and still as Bridget had ever seen it. Amazingly, she didn’t feel any safer. No, the lack of activity so early in the morning only served to remind her that a woman could be attacked without a single witness at a time like this.

“Did the officers treat you all right, Bridget?”

“Yes.” She thought about it. “Better than I imagined they would, if you want to know the truth. First an Officer Barnaby asked me questions. Later Lieutenant Howard came in.” She smiled at her first impression of the man. “I had heard about the city’s gentleman detective, but of course, I had never met him. He certainly takes one by surprise.”

“He interviewed Lydia too. I, um, had never thought much of his goals to become a working stiff. I figure that a man who is born to a position of power ought to do everything he can to keep it . . . not going about turning himself into a policeman, of all things.” He
chuckled. “But he seems to have been gentle enough with Lydia, so I suppose I am grateful for his lowly dreams after all.”

Bridget knew Lieutenant Howard had been born and bred to be a gentleman from the papers, where he was often referred to as the Gentleman Detective. His determination to become a member of the police force had taken many by surprise. “He was fair to me. He, um, asked what I knew about Mr. Avondale.”

“Did you know him?”

She nodded. “He was the reason I got fired from my previous job.”

“I knew a man had been too forward with you, but I didn’t know it had been him.”

“I never told a soul. I didn’t care for him, Mr. Marks. I found him to be everything I hate about the wealthy and privileged.”

“I felt the same way.” He grimaced. “When he grabbed Lydia at the Hartman, I yearned to kill him.” As his words drifted in the air between them, he looked appalled. “I didn’t though.”

“No, sir. I didn’t think you had.” It wasn’t because she didn’t think he was capable of ending another person’s life. She had no doubt that he could commit murder, and would, if he felt he had no choice.

But that was the crux of it. In the grand scheme of things, Jason Avondale meant nothing to him. Yes, she’d heard rumors that he owed the club money, but Mr. Marks had more money than he knew what to do with. Everyone knew that.

And he was far more likely to systematically hurt Jason Avondale in all manner of ways in order to get that money back. Killing the man ensured that Mr. Marks would never be repaid.

The only other reason she could think that he would want Jason gone was to protect Miss Bancroft. But he had already done that. Mr. Marks had also moved her into Lydia’s life to make sure she was safe—and to let him know if Avondale came around.

As they continued to walk, Mr. Marks took her elbow to make sure she avoided a puddle in the street.

She smiled to herself. It really was endearing how he sometimes forgot that she was used to avoiding puddles and riffraff and didn’t need his watchful eyes or courteous arm to do so.

He sighed. “For the record, I don’t think you killed him either.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He didn’t catch her sarcasm. Merely continued, deep in thought. “I also have a hard time seeing Vincent as a suspect. He’s strong enough, to be sure. I’d even suggest he was brave enough to do something of the sort. But I can’t imagine his motive.” He paused, then stopped abruptly.

She stopped, too, right in front of a flower peddler. The young girl looked at Bridget hopefully, but Bridget shook her head. “Sir?”

“Did Hunt have a reason to dislike Avondale that I don’t know about?”

“I have no idea.”

“Sure about that?”

“Well, I heard him once say that he knew a little bit about Mr. Avondale’s proclivities from when the lawyers he clerked for had Mr. Avondale as a client. But that was long ago.”

“I didn’t know about this.” He blinked. “How come I didn’t know about this?”

“I couldn’t begin to guess.”

He seemed about to reply but suddenly took notice of the flower girl. Reaching into his vest pocket, he brought out a shiny half-dollar. “Here, child.”