CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ELIZABETH WAITED UNTIL HONESDALE HAD CLOSED THE DOOR behind him, then walked the few steps back to Gideon’s desk. She made a point of not sitting down. She didn’t want him to think she’d sit still for another of his lectures on the rule of law. “What information did you have for me?”
“You asked me to look into DeForrest Jenks’s death.”
“Oh.” Well, that was different. She sat down again, although she only perched on the edge of the chair, ready to jump up and escape at a moment’s notice. She also kept her tone cool and disinterested, and steeled herself against his charm, just in case he tried to use it. “What did you find out?”
Gideon sat down again, too, but much more slowly. She didn’t trust him. He was being too careful. “It looks like Jenks was murdered.”
She shivered as a chill ran down her spine. “Murdered? Are you sure?”
“I found out from the club manager and the company that removed the gargoyles from the other three corners of the building that they had been called earlier to inspect the gargoyle that fell on Jenks.”
“Inspect it? You mean before it fell?”
“Yes, it wasn’t working properly. The gargoyles aren’t just decorations. They’re actually part of the gutter system, and this one wasn’t draining. The company determined that it was loose and could fall at any moment.”
“So they knew it was a hazard and did nothing about it?” she asked in outrage.
He seemed somehow gratified by her outrage. “Only the club president knew.”
She needed a minute to make the connection. “If I remember correctly, Endicott Knight was the club president.”
“You do remember correctly, and he probably confided in his good friend Peter, who immediately saw an opportunity.”
“After what we’ve learned, do you really think it was Peter Honesdale who saw the opportunity?”
“Or Peter’s unholy wife saw it,” he said with a trace of his usual spirit. “In any case, I also talked to the police detective who investigated Jenks’s death.”
“But he must have thought it was an accident.”
“He did, but he didn’t know what we know about how much Knight needed Jenks’s money and what happened after Jenks died.”
“No, he wouldn’t have, and it looked like an accident, so why would he have bothered to find out anything more?”
“He wouldn’t and he didn’t, but he did tell me that Jenks was already lying on the sidewalk, facedown, when the gargoyle hit him.”
“Already lying . . . ? How could they know that?”
“Because the gargoyle hit him on his back. Think about it. If he’d been standing on the sidewalk, it would have crushed his head or at least his shoulder, but his head wasn’t injured at all. Just his back.”
“That’s . . .” She stopped, unable to think of the right word.
“Impossible,” he supplied. “Yes, it is.”
“And the police detective noticed this?”
Gideon nodded. She wished he didn’t look so handsome when he was being serious. It was distracting.
“Then why didn’t he investigate?” she asked, frustrated all over again.
“He’d been told Jenks had been drinking heavily that evening. They assumed he had passed out and just happened to be lying there in the exact right spot when the gargoyle fell.”
“That’s monstrous! You mean they just laid him out on the sidewalk and then . . . ?” She shivered again.
“The detective thought Jenks had passed out, and he probably had if he was drugged as we suspect, but the detective didn’t want to add to the widow’s burden by mentioning it. Either way, it would have been an accident.”
“Except it wasn’t an accident at all. Did you tell him what we know? Did you tell him it was really a murder?”
“No, I didn’t.”
She gaped at him. “Why not? You’re the one who wanted the law to take care of them. Now you have the proof and—”
“But I don’t have proof.”
Was he crazy? “Of course you do! You just told me!”
“I told you Knight was told the gargoyle was loose, and we know he was being blackmailed, and we know he married Jenks’s widow. None of that proves he murdered Jenks.”
“Yes, it does!”
“Not in a way that would stand up in a court of law. Not even in a way that would convince the police to bring charges.”
“But—”
“And there’s more, something we didn’t even think of, something that will hurt Priscilla.”
“What?”
“When I was talking to the detective, I mentioned that Jenks might have had enemies, someone who wanted to marry his widow, and he immediately thought I meant Priscilla had a lover and the two of them conspired to murder him.”
“Oh no!”
“Oh yes. Don’t you see? That’s what everyone would think if they found out Knight killed Jenks.”
“Especially because he married Priscilla just a few months later! Oh, Gideon, Priscilla would get all the blame, too, because Knight isn’t even here to tell people she wasn’t involved.”
“Assuming he’d do that, and nothing we know about him indicates he was a gentleman.”
“But even if he did try to take the blame, no one would have believed him. People are always willing to believe the worst about a female.”
“At least Knight had the decency to kill himself.”
“You sound very sure of that,” she said, remembering that they had wondered if the Honesdales hadn’t gotten rid of him when he was no longer of use to them.
“I found the West Side Cowboy who was on duty the night Knight died. As far as anyone can tell, Knight stepped in front of the train on purpose and of his own accord.”
“So it was suicide.”
“As far as we’ll ever know. I also met with the manager of Priscilla’s bank to see if they had any idea what Knight did with the money he withdrew from her accounts, but they didn’t. The only interesting thing I learned is that a minister once accompanied Knight to the bank. So that’s another dead end.”
Elizabeth could only stare at him as the import of his words—all of his words—finally sank in. “You investigated all of this.”
Some emotion flickered across his face, but his voice was expressionless when he said, “You asked me to.”
Had she? So much had happened since then that she’d forgotten. But he hadn’t forgotten. He’d remembered and he’d done it, because she’d asked him to, even though she’d sent him away and told him they were finished. But why? “Were you trying to prove you were right?”
He jerked back as if she’d struck him. “Prove I was right about what?”
“About the law being the only right way to get justice.”
He considered her question for a long moment. “Yes, I suppose I was, but also . . . I wanted to impress you.”
“Impress me?” she echoed in wonder.
He smiled bitterly. “Yes. I wanted to find out the truth that would bring the full weight of the law down on Peter and Daisy so you’d understand why I believe in it.”
And he had found out the truth, for all the good it had done. “Oh, Gideon—”
He raised his hand to stop her words. “No, it’s fine. I needed to do that. And we needed to know what really happened.”
“Should we tell Priscilla?”
“No. Not yet, at least. It won’t give her any comfort and might just make her grief harder to bear.”
“You’re probably right. Oh, Gideon, this is even more horrible than we suspected. I really do wish we could see the law punish them for this.”
He raised his eyebrows in amazement. “I don’t suppose your plan calls for anything like that.”
“Not a punishment, no. Nothing that could compare to being put in prison. We were just going to get Priscilla’s money back.”
“That’s something, at least.”
She blinked in surprise. Was he actually expressing approval of their plan, however tepid and halfhearted? “I . . . Thank you for giving Mr. Honesdale the key and . . .”
“And what? Not trying to talk him out of helping you?”
“Yes, that, too.”
“I don’t think I would have succeeded in any case.”
“But you didn’t try, and I’m grateful for that. I’m also sorry I didn’t give you fair warning. The Old Man really just told me this morning what he’d done, and I came right over to let you know.”
“Will you . . . keep me informed?”
Oh dear, why did he want her to do that? “Are you sure you really want to know?”
“I won’t help you, but so long as Peter and Daisy are the only victims, I won’t interfere, either. I just think it will be easier not to interfere if I know what you’re doing.”
That made sense. “All right.” Although that meant she’d have to see him again. Would she mind so very much? Seeing him wouldn’t change anything, after all. “I . . . The Old Man will get Daisy and Peter to take him over to Knight’s house next. They think they are going to turn it into a brothel and Daisy will run it.”
“Run it?” he echoed in astonishment.
“She was a madam before, remember? The Old Man thinks she wants to run the house so she can skim the profits, and he’s probably right.”
“What will Peter do?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself. Surely, he doesn’t think he can keep on being a preacher.”
“I imagine that’s one of the attractions for him of opening your own brothel. You can’t possibly have a future in the ministry.”
She couldn’t help smiling at that. “Matthew did say Peter resented his father as much as Matthew did.”
“So this would cause his father the most embarrassment possible.”
“Not as much as a murder would have, but enough, I’m sure.”
Gideon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But they won’t really be opening a brothel, will they? So there won’t be any scandal. What will happen when it’s over? When you’ve taken back the money, I mean.”
“Nothing as dramatic as the last time, I promise,” she said, remembering the scene in Gideon’s parlor when Anna shot her. “The Old Man and his cohorts will just disappear. Daisy and Peter don’t know their real names or where to find them, and they’ll just vanish.”
“So aside from losing their ill-gotten fortune, nothing will really change for Peter and Daisy.”
“I hadn’t thought about it, but I suppose not. Peter will go on being a minister and Daisy will be his wife, but without any extra money to spend. That hardly seems fair, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t, although she could tell he was thinking very hard about something. She should go, she knew. No use prolonging the agony that she felt every second she was with him. “I guess I should—”
“Of course,” he said, rising to his feet so quickly she felt insulted. “I’m sorry to have kept you.”
His formal tone cut like an icicle thrust into her heart, but she rose, too, and thanked him for his time.
“You’ll keep me informed,” he repeated as she turned toward the door.
“Yes, I will.”
He must have pushed some kind of alarm button, because Smith opened the door from the other side before she reached it.
“Please see Miss Miles out, Smith,” Gideon said.
Smith was the perfect gentleman, escorting her to the front door and wishing her a good day, but by the time she reached the sidewalk, she was blinking at the sting of tears. She wouldn’t cry. That would be idiotic. She was the one who had ended it, after all. It was for the best. It was for her own good.
It was horrible.
“SMITH!” GIDEON CALLED WHEN HE HEARD HIS CLERK RETURNING.
Smith stepped into his office. “Yes, sir?”
“Do we have any clients in the newspaper business?”
“One or two, I believe. We drew up a will for—”
“Can you give me their names?”
“I’m sure I—”
“I’ll need them immediately. And I’ve written a note for Matthew Honesdale. I’d like to have it delivered as well.”
If Smith was curious—and from his expression, he was almost insanely so—he said not one word.
When he was gone, Gideon sat back in his chair and remembered his conversation with Elizabeth. She’d seemed pleased to learn he’d investigated the two men’s deaths, although neither of them could be pleased with the results of those investigations. And as much as she’d wanted justice for her friend, her father’s con would still leave Peter and Daisy free to destroy the lives of others, just as they had done to Jenks and Knight and Priscilla. The law couldn’t touch them for the murders and punishing them for the blackmail would only hurt Priscilla and her daughters.
If he really wanted to impress Elizabeth, he needed to get true justice for Priscilla and stop Peter and Daisy from ever harming anyone else again. He wasn’t sure he could actually do all that, but he was certainly going to try.
THE NEXT MORNING, DAISY AND PETER MET FRANKLIN AND ROSS at Knight’s house. Daisy was annoyed that Franklin had once again worn a suit with a slightly less-than-conservative pattern. Was he serious about opening his business in an upper-class neighborhood? If so, then he’d have to learn how to dress so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself. Or else never show himself at all. She’d be sure to speak to him about it once the deal was made.
Using the key Matthew had delivered to her last night, she opened the front door. The place smelled dusty and musty, the way empty houses always smelled, and it was bone-chillingly cold. They hadn’t used it since the last time they’d met Knight here for a session. He’d been such a fool, but she supposed sensible men didn’t allow themselves to be photographed in compromising positions.
“What do you think?” Peter asked Franklin with the false heartiness he used when he was nervous.
“The neighborhood is just what I was looking for. I’ve had great success in Chicago with my place in Hyde Park, although you do have to be careful with the neighbors.”
“I’m sure you do,” Peter said, although he had no idea what it took to run a successful house.
“What precautions do you take?” Daisy asked. “Besides the usual ones, I mean.”
“You mean besides paying off the police and the politicians?” Franklin asked with a knowing grin. “We make sure no one gets in without a referral. That keeps out the riffraff, so the neighbors don’t have any reason for complaint.”
“Do the neighbors know what’s going on?” Peter asked with a frown.
“Some do. Most, I have learned, prefer not to notice, if you know what I mean. They refer to it as a gentleman’s club or some such.”
“Nobody wants a whorehouse on their street,” Ross said, earning a chastening glare from Franklin. Ross merely shrugged, unrepentant.
So much for chitchat. “Most of the furniture will have to be replaced, of course,” she said, leading the men into the front parlor. “It’s not nearly flashy enough.”
“Just tell me what you want, and I’ll take care of ordering it,” Franklin said. “Brass beds, I assume?”
“With feather mattresses,” Daisy confirmed. She led them through the rest of the house. Franklin occasionally pulled up the edge of one of the furniture covers to see what was underneath and frowned. None of the furniture seemed to meet with his approval.
Upstairs they determined the bedrooms would need to be divided. She claimed the master bedroom with its adjoining bath for herself.
“And what about you, Honesdale?” Franklin asked with a sly grin. “Will you live here, too?”
“Hardly, although I’ll visit,” he added with a sly grin of his own.
“Will you need any special equipment?” Franklin asked. “I have a man who makes mine for me. He can ship whatever you need.”
“I already have what I’ll need to start,” she said.
Franklin raised one eyebrow. “Do you keep it at the parsonage?”
“Don’t be silly. The servants would see it. No, it’s in the attic for now.”
“May I take a look?” Franklin asked. “Professional interest only,” he added.
Peter took him and Ross up because Daisy didn’t want to hear what the men would have to say. Men could be so tiresome, thinking their crude observations could somehow stimulate her to bed them.
She waited on the first floor for them, ready to leave now that the tour was over.
“May I compliment you on your creativity, Mrs. Honesdale?” Franklin said as he came down the stairs to find her in the foyer. “I find myself more and more pleased that Ross here found the wrong Honesdales.”
She smiled graciously. “Thank you, Mr. Franklin. It’s nice to see one’s work appreciated.”
“I’m sure your clients will appreciate it, although I’m afraid we may have to increase the amount of money allotted to bribes once word gets out.”
Daisy wasn’t worried. She’d make sure those bribes came out of Franklin’s share.
“HOW DID IT GO WITH DAISY WHEN YOU DROPPED OFF THE key?” Gideon asked Matthew Honesdale when he had been escorted into Gideon’s office. Even though it was Saturday, Matthew had been only too happy to hear what Gideon had to propose.
“She was glad to get the key so quickly, and she wants me to sign over the mortgage as soon as I can.”
“You won’t be able to see an attorney until Monday, but that should be soon enough.”
“Can you do the transfer for us?”
“They would probably be suspicious if I did. I’ll have one of my partners help you with it. Be sure to get the money in cash.”
“That’s a lot of cash.”
“Use a bodyguard. I’m guessing they keep the money in the parsonage, though. They wouldn’t want some banker asking awkward questions about where they got so much cash on a minister’s salary.”
“I don’t suppose they would.” Honesdale stared at him across the expanse of his desk for a long moment. “All right, you’ve got a plan. Out with it.”
“What makes you think I’ve got a plan?”
“You’ve changed since yesterday. All that talk about not being able to tell me, that was guff. You didn’t know the plan then any more than I did, did you?”
“I knew some of it.”
Honesdale gave him a pitying look. “That Miss Miles is an interesting woman.”
“She’s my fiancée.” It wasn’t a lie. Gideon still had every intention of marrying her. In the meantime, he didn’t want Matthew Honesdale getting any ideas about her.
“You’re a lucky man, although she’ll lead you a merry chase, mark my words.” She already had, but he wasn’t going to admit it to Honesdale. “Now, tell me what the two of you have cooked up since yesterday.”
“It will require your cooperation,” Gideon said, although the words wanted to stick in his throat. He hated everything about Matthew Honesdale, but in this case, he was the lesser of two evils. Gideon would have to dance with this devil if he hoped to defeat a worse one.
“I already said I’ll help, and don’t forget I have good reason.”
“And I can give you an even better one. We think Peter and Daisy have committed murder.”
Now he had Honesdale’s complete attention. “Murder? Who did they kill? And don’t tell me Peter did it, because I’ll know you’re lying.”
“He probably did do it, just because it would have been too difficult for a woman, but he had help.” Gideon quickly explained how DeForrest Jenks had died and what part Peter and Endicott Knight had played.
Honesdale gave a low whistle. “Daisy came up with that plan. Peter could never have thought of something that complicated.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t prove any of this unless one of them confesses, and that doesn’t seem very likely. But the reason I told you all this is because if you get involved, they may decide to kill you, too.”
For some reason, this seemed to please him immensely. “You have indeed given me an even better reason to assist you in your endeavors, Mr. Bates. If I had a conscience, it would be completely salved now. Since I don’t, I have an excuse I can use if I ever need one.”
Gideon wasn’t quite sure what to make of Matthew Honesdale’s exuberance, but he said, “As you know, Miss Miles and her agents have a plan to trick Reverend and Mrs. Honesdale into returning the money they took from you and Mrs. Knight. The real Mrs. Knight, that is, who—I assure you—is more than worthy of our efforts on her behalf.”
“I don’t particularly care if she is or not, Bates, but go on.”
“That plan will not punish them in any meaningful way, however, or ensure they won’t try to blackmail some other poor soul in the future.”
“I always assume that anyone who did something worthy of being blackmailed for isn’t particularly deserving of my pity, but I am very interested in punishing Daisy and Peter, if only for the annoyance they have caused me.”
“Then you should appreciate my plan.” Gideon outlined it for him.
When he was finished, Honesdale sat back in his chair and smiled with satisfaction. “A good start, and it will totally humiliate them, but you’ve still left Peter and Daisy free to wreak whatever havoc their devious little minds can contrive in the future. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to make a suggestion that will completely satisfy me, and probably you as well. May I?”
“Certainly,” Gideon said and leaned back in his own chair as Honesdale explained his suggestion.
When he was finished, Gideon was smiling just as broadly as Honesdale.
“I HOPE YOU AREN’T INSULTED WHEN I SAY I DON’T COMPLETELY trust you, Mrs. Honesdale,” Franklin said. They’d returned to the parsonage after touring Knight’s house, and they had enjoyed lunch before sending the servants out so they could complete their negotiations. Now they were seated in the parlor.
“And we do not completely trust you, either, Mr. Franklin,” Daisy said. “We are, after all, still strangers to each other.”
“And yet we will be partners, so how will we manage to do business together?”
Daisy smiled sweetly. “Very carefully.”
“Exactly, which is why I have come up with a plan for combining our financial contributions and ensuring that neither of us can cheat the other.”
Daisy exchanged a glance with Peter, who seemed as intrigued as she. “Do tell us, Mr. Franklin.”
“I have rented a safe-deposit box at the Safe Deposit Company of New York. I chose that company because it is the oldest one in the city and you know it is reliable.”
Daisy nodded, although she had never heard of the company. She had little use for such a thing as a safe-deposit box.
Peter said, “My father uses them.” As if that were important.
“Good. I propose that we each put our fifty-thousand-dollar contribution into the safe-deposit box. Each time we have an expense, we will both go to the box and withdraw the necessary amount to pay that expense. That way we will both know only that amount is being withdrawn.”
“But what is to stop you . . . or me for that matter . . . from going to the box alone and withdrawing all the cash?” Daisy asked.
Franklin smiled his charming smile. “I’m crushed that you would suspect me of such a thing, Mrs. Honesdale,” he chided with amusement, “but I was also going to propose that we give the key to a third party, someone we can both trust, and who has been instructed not to give access to the box unless both parties are present.”
“Where on earth would we find such a trustworthy person?” she asked.
Franklin shrugged. “I am new to the city, so I thought perhaps you could suggest someone. It would have to be someone so painfully honest and incorruptible that he would never dream of violating his instructions.” He turned to Peter. “You’re a minister. Surely, you know such an individual.”
Peter’s forehead wrinkled with the effort, but after a moment, he brightened. “Gideon Bates.”
Daisy inwardly cringed.
“Who is this Bates?” Franklin asked.
“He’s an attorney,” Peter said.
Franklin frowned. “In my experience, attorneys are not particularly trustworthy.”
“This one is,” Peter assured him. “He’s from one of the old Knickerbocker families, and he’s the biggest Goody-Two-shoes you’d ever want to meet.”
“What kind of attorney is he?”
“Estates, mostly. People have to trust you when you do that work, and they all rave about how Gideon always makes sure their interests are protected.”
“Mrs. Honesdale, what do you think?” Franklin asked.
How nice to be asked her opinion. “He is certainly painfully honest—disgustingly so, in fact—but won’t he also be suspicious? He’ll at least wonder what we’re doing.”
“What if he does?” Franklin said. “And quite frankly, everyone will know soon enough. Meanwhile, he must maintain our confidentiality, but actually, we won’t have to tell him anything at all. He’ll have no idea what we’re putting into the box or taking out, and we’ll pay him a handsome fee for his trouble. I’ve found that usually satisfies even the most curious.”
“And you’re willing to accept our choice of . . . ? What shall we call him?” Daisy asked.
“Holder of the key? I’ll have to meet him, of course, but if I’m impressed, then yes, he can hold the key to the box.”
“How soon can you have your half of the money ready?” Daisy asked, already planning how she would outsmart Gideon Bates.
“I transferred some of my funds to a bank here in the city. I can withdraw the fifty thousand on Monday and meet you at the Safe Deposit Company. Will you be able to access your funds by then as well?”
“Oh yes,” Daisy said, thinking of the safe in Peter’s study, where they kept the cash. “Monday will be just fine.”
“But what about Gideon? He’ll have to be there, too, won’t he?” Peter said.
“Yes, he will,” Daisy said. “You will see him tomorrow at church. Ask him then.”
“Shall we say one o’clock on Monday, then? Unless Mr. Bates has a conflict?” Franklin asked.
“I’M EXPECTING A VISITOR LATER THIS AFTERNOON,” GIDEON TOLD his mother when they had retired to the parlor after Sunday dinner.
“Not Elizabeth, I assume,” she said. She still blamed him because Elizabeth hadn’t been at church that morning.
He tried a smile, although he suspected it didn’t make him look especially happy. “I don’t expect we’ll see Elizabeth for a while yet.”
“Really, Gideon, all you have to do is apologize to her.”
“If you believe that, you don’t know Elizabeth at all, Mother.”
“It would at least be a start.”
“Don’t worry. I’m . . . Well, I have a plan for winning her back.”
“Winning? Is that what you think it will take? And if you win, does that mean she loses?”
“Maybe that was a poor choice of words.”
“I hope so. Now, tell me about your plan.”
Before he could figure out how to refuse to explain, they heard the doorbell ring. Gideon managed not to sigh in relief even while his pulse soared. He’d been hoping for this.
“Is that your visitor?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. He wasn’t coming until later.” No, this would be a much more welcome guest.
They waited for the maid, who stepped in to announce that Mr. Miles had come to call. This was not the Miles Gideon had been hoping to see. They both rose to greet him, although Gideon’s mother was much happier to see him than Gideon was.
“Mr. Miles, what a pleasant surprise,” she said, offering her hand.
To Gideon’s dismay, he kissed it. “You are looking very well, Mrs. Bates. What a lovely gown.”
“Thank you, Mr. Miles.” Dear heaven, was she blushing?
Gideon stepped forward and offered his own hand, so Miles had to release his mother’s. “To what do we owe this honor?” he asked grimly as Miles shook his hand.
Miles seemed not to notice Gideon’s lack of enthusiasm. “I need to speak with you on a small matter, Gideon. Lizzie said she had promised to keep you informed.”
“And she sent you in her stead?” he asked, trying not to show his crushing disappointment.
“Oh no, not at all,” he assured Gideon heartily. “I am the one who needs your assistance, so it was easier for me to come in person to explain.”
Gideon didn’t believe him for a moment, but he said, “All right. Won’t you have a seat?”
“And I’ll leave you gentlemen to your business,” Mrs. Bates said.
“This won’t take long,” Miles said, bestowing upon her his most charming smile. “Then perhaps you’ll rejoin us.”
This seemed to please his mother far more than Gideon thought appropriate. Gideon pretended not to notice, though, and saw Miles settled and served him a drink. He even took one for himself, figuring he would need it to deal with whatever Miles wanted.
“You said you need my assistance,” Gideon prompted when they were both seated again.
“Yes. Lizzie said you know the plan.”
“She explained it to me, yes, and this morning at church Reverend Honesdale asked me to meet him at the Safe Deposit Company tomorrow at one o’clock. I’m assuming this has something to do with your plan.”
“Yes, it does. We have convinced the Honesdales to place their share of the, uh, investment in a safe-deposit box along with my share. We will withdraw funds from it jointly as our expenses arise.”
That didn’t sound like a very good plan. “What’s to stop Daisy and Peter from just taking all the money out and disappearing?”
“If they did, they’d just be stealing their own money.”
“But you said you were putting your own share in as well.”
“Oh no. We’re just using boodle.”
“Boodle?”
“That’s what we call it. We use stacks of paper cut in the size of a greenback. Then we put a real twenty-dollar bill on the top and bottom and band them the way banks do.”
Which was pretty clever, although Gideon didn’t mention it. “I see. But if Daisy and Peter don’t know it’s boodle, what’s to stop them—”
“We have agreed that we cannot trust each other and a third party should hold the key to the box, someone whose honesty is above reproach. That person will be instructed not to open the box unless both the Honesdales and I are present.”
“Where on earth will you find someone like that?”
“Obviously, the Honesdales have selected you.”
Which was why Peter had asked to meet with him. “But why would they choose me?”
“Your reputation, my dear boy. You should be honored.”
“Did you suggest me?” he asked, not honored at all.
“Certainly not. They would never trust my choice, and they have no idea that we are even acquainted. I merely described all your attributes as the ideal candidate, and Peter Honesdale thought of you immediately.”
“What if he hadn’t?”
“I would have accepted whoever he chose, although I do feel more comfortable with you holding the key.”
“And you expect me to violate my instructions and open the box for you so you can steal their money?” he asked, outraged.
“‘Steal’ is such an ugly word. And no, I do not expect you to violate your instructions. We chose you for your honesty, and that is all we will require of you.”
This didn’t make any sense. “How will you get the money, then?”
“You needn’t concern yourself about that. All you have to do is follow your instructions.”