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ROSEMARY FLOPPED INTO a chair when she and her friends were alone once more. She allowed herself to be talked into a cocktail while deciding what to do with the information that had just come to light.
“We were this close to being let off the hook,” Frederick said, holding up his hand with the tips of his thumb and forefinger nearly touching.
“If you believe our Rosie was going to walk away from an unsolved mystery, you don’t know your sister as well as you think you do,” Vera retorted.
Frederick sneered and then turned away from Vera to address his sister. “So, I assume you want to track down this Charlie and see if we can shake him up.”
“You’ve been reading too many American crime novels, brother dear. I think the expression is ‘shake him down,’ however. And yes, I want to find him and question him. We’ll take Wadsworth.”
When Frederick put on a greatly exaggerated impression of a doddering old man trying to fend off a thug with his cane, Rosemary nearly threw her empty glass at his head.
“He’s more than a butler, Fred. He may look old and worn, but you don’t need to be young and spry to aim a pistol. Wadsworth’s a crack shot. Anything goes south, and he’ll protect us with his life.”
“Fair enough,” Frederick said, sitting back with a pensive expression on his face. He’d had no idea Wadsworth would prove such an asset, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. Andrew would have ensured his and Rosemary’s safety, and planting a butler with a protective streak sounded exactly like something he would have done.
Nobody seemed to realize how much Frederick had thought of his sister’s husband, but Andrew had been a good man and a good match for Rosemary. The thought caught Frederick off guard, and he had to blink and take a big swig of gin to avoid letting his emotions show.
“No!” Quiet until now, Desmond launched to his feet and repeated, “No! I won’t have it, I tell you. You’re talking about Rosemary bearding a possible murderer in his den like it’s nothing more than a day at the park. You’re barking mad, the lot of you, and I won’t have it.”
His feverish pacing brought him to where Rosemary sat, and when he settled onto the stool at her feet and laid a hand on hers, her breath caught. He looked adorable with his face flushed and his hair ruffled up as the result of restless fingers tangling there. She remembered him during their tender ages, and how much she’d yearned for him to look at her the way he was right now.
But then there had been Andrew, and when his face swam into her memory, Rosemary set aside the remnants of her childish crush. Maybe someday, and sooner rather than later, she’d be ready for another man in her life, but it wouldn’t be fair to Desmond to ask him to wait. That was assuming he even wanted to, and Rosemary would rather not add the complication of knowing how he felt.
“I’ll be fine. We’ll arrange to meet in a public place, during the day when it’s safer,” she said, trying to set his mind at ease.
“Segal was killed in a public place of sorts, might I remind you, and during the day.”
“Well, he didn’t have you, Freddie, Vera, or Wadsworth to watch over him. It will all be fine. You wait and see. We’ll go as a group, and I’ll even let you choose the time and place as long as it’s soon.”
With that, Desmond had to be satisfied.
“Come, darling. We’ll let the men take care of the details while we assemble our costumes. I mean outfits.” Vera could turn anything into an excuse for mucking about in her wardrobe. Rosemary wondered if the size of hers was the thing keeping Vera from coming to stay. Maybe she should offer to convert one of the bedrooms, though knowing Vera, it might take two.
As soon as the bedroom door shut behind her, Vera let out a squeal. “Did you see the way Des looked at you? I wish a man would look at me like that.”
“What are you on about?” Rosemary lifted a hand to her own cheek and felt the heat flaming there. “Men look at you like that all the time. All you have to do is crook your finger, and they fall in line like ducklings.”
“Ducklings,” Vera said, spinning and settling herself on the bed, “are adorable and fuzzy.”
“As are some men.” Rosemary’s dry tone pulled a trilling laugh from her friend.
“So they are, but not what I want in a companion. Give me a little sizzle and burn. I want someone who makes my toes tingle.”
Rosemary could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she’d heard Vera’s voice turn so wistful, and the sound of it tore at her heart. Sisters of the heart, the friends had missed their chance to lay claim to the term by legal means when Vera’s fiancé, Rosemary’s brother, had been lost to the war. As much as Vera chided Rosemary’s reluctance to jump back into a relationship, she was the pot casting aspersions on the kettle’s shade.
“Has no one tingled your toes since Lionel?”
“Not as yet, but I remain ever hopeful, and I’m having fun testing the theory.”
Charles Dupont was the epitome of a flunky, with thick, rope-like arms and a forbidding expression. However, there was some softness in his eyes, and in the curl of his lips when he tried to hide what Rosemary suspected was a frequent smile that had her doubting he enjoyed his line of work. She realized she might have been overly cautious bringing an armed guard along, but in this line of work, it didn’t pay to take chances.
It had taken Frederick and Desmond far less time to find the man than Rosemary had expected, though according to them, the feat had been little more than a step away from a pilgrimage to Rome. They’d managed to make themselves into heroes, even though she suspected she and Vera would have been able to complete the task in a comparable amount of time and without half the fanfare.
Now that she was there, standing in front of the man, he seemed far less formidable than a lackey of the type Martin had described ought to be.
“You were there when Segal died, weren’t you, Charles?” She asked, playing a hunch and looking straight into his chocolate-brown eyes.
He stuttered, apparently caught off guard at the pointed question. It wasn’t as though he believed women were as meek as many men would like to think. He knew better, had met more than his fair share of passionate, fiery ladies. It was part of the job. He had, however, expected that out of the two standing in front of him, the lady who might give him a run for his money would be the brunette whose eyes flashed with a blatant challenge.
“Yes,” he stammered, eying Frederick and Desmond with a wary look. Whether he could take them in a physical confrontation wasn’t the problem, but it would be two-on-one, and he had places to be and couldn’t afford to arrive spattered with blood from a fight in which he had no desire to engage. He didn't even notice the biggest threat, Wadsworth, who remained in the car with his trigger finger primed and ready. “What’s it to you?” he demanded.
“To me? Nothing, personally. However, to my neighbors, Dr. Redberry and his wife, it means a great deal. You either had a hand in Claude Segal’s death, or you have a clue as to who else might have wanted him out of the picture.”
Charlie let his shoulders drop and looked helplessly at Rosemary. “That list is a long one,” he said. “About everyone who had dealings with Segal would have liked to see him hanged, drawn and quartered.”
“Can you narrow it down to the people who were in the waiting room at the time of his demise?” Rosemary prodded.
“I didn’t see anyone. I was standing outside the window, waiting for Mr. Segal to have his tooth fixed. He’d been whining about it all morning and insisted I drive him. Wouldn’t let me smoke in the car, so I hung around on the footway while he was inside.”
Rosemary raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you hang around when you found out he was dead? Wouldn’t that have been part of your job description? Or are you only responsible for pummeling the poor souls who can’t pay their debts?”
Charles’ eyes darted back and forth between the group that was now staring him down. “Don’t make the mistake of believing I like what I do. I was stuck with Mr. Segal just as much as that dentist was stuck with him. I took off because I was relieved he was gone. Just thought it was an accident. Didn’t realize he was murdered until that story came out. Didn’t care, either, if you want to know the truth.”
“Why were you stuck with him?” Rosemary’s heart had begun to soften for the poor man, though she couldn’t fathom why.
“Paid my mother’s hospital bills, he did. He put her in a nice home and made sure she had nurses to take care of her round the clock. He didn’t do it out of the kindness of his heart. I don’t believe Mr. Segal had one. A heart, I mean. He did it so I owed him, and made sure I’d spend the rest of my life paying him back.”
It didn’t surprise any one of them after everything they had heard about the dead man. Rosemary was beginning to think she wouldn’t care if it had been Dr. Redberry who had killed Claude Segal.
“You believe the papers, then? You think the dentist did it?” Vera spoke for the first time, and her voice was just as hard as Charles had expected it to be—hard as diamonds, and just as full of glimmer.
He blushed and shrugged. “Couldn’t say. Saw him at the games, but I wouldn’t have pegged him for it. Not his style. Was always polite, even when he lost, which was frequently. Not his fault, of course. The house always wins, as they say. It wasn’t a front, either. Everyone liked Dr. Redberry. Especially his nurse there, Polly something-or-other. Can’t say I didn’t envy her having a boss she’d go to bat for like that.”
“Go to bat for? What do you mean?” Rosemary’s heart skipped a beat, and her intuition told her they were onto something.
“Came to the casino, she did. Begged Mr. Segal to let the dentist off the hook. She said she’d repay him in whatever way he wanted if you get my drift. Didn’t realize she wouldn’t get anywhere with that line. She wasn’t the first one who thought she could get out of owing a debt by flaunting her feminine wiles. Went off in a huff, she did. Something not right with that one—mark my words. Hey, you don’t suppose she could have been the one to kill him, do you?”
All the pieces were starting to fit together too neatly, and she wanted to slap herself on the forehead for not seeing it sooner.
Polly could easily be the killer, though Rosemary wouldn’t say as much to Charles. She did, however, leave him with quite a lot to contemplate. With a plea to let them know if he remembered anything else that might be of import, the group made their exit, with Charles, brow still furrowed, intent on watching Vera walk away.
“It has to be him, doesn’t it, Rosie?” Frederick pronounced when they were out of earshot of Charles Dupont.
Rosemary shook her head. “No, I don’t see it. He’s capable, of course. Tall enough to reach the key tool, but I suspect if Charles wanted Claude dead, he would have clubbed him in a dark alley and left him there. He doesn’t have the finesse to pull off something like this.”
“She’s right, you nitwit,” Vera railed at Frederick. “It’s obviously Polly, the devoted nurse.”
Rosemary nodded. “Seems so. However, we have to be able to prove it. Just because she wanted to help him out of a jam doesn’t mean she’d resort to murder. Jumping to conclusions won’t help us. Tipping her off won’t either.”
“Well then, what will?” Frederick wondered.
“I’m not sure, but I believe I’ll keep that appointment with Dr. Redberry tomorrow. If nothing else, I’ll get to observe how Polly acts around Martin. There has to be a reason she would try to clear his debt. Perhaps, she simply didn’t want any more of her checks to bounce.” Rosemary’s voice held enough doubt to let her companions know that she didn’t believe that for a second. “Don’t you worry. I won’t be taking any nitrous oxide. I won’t even be sitting in the chair.”
