Thirty minutes later, Philomena Amesbury, Countess of Dunbridge, stepped off the elevator into the Plaza lobby. She wasn’t dressed for an evening’s soirée or drinks party but in a walking skirt and jacket of navy blue twill. A woolen cape hung about her shoulders and the wide-brimmed felt hat trimmed with ruched silk ribbon was perched securely on her head.
She made no secret of leaving the hotel, but stepped into a taxi and told the driver to drive slowly around the block.
She turned just enough to see that one of the “journalists” had jumped into the cab behind her.
“Slowly if you please.”
“Lady.”
The other taxi stayed behind them as her driver turned the corner and drove down Fifth Avenue. When they reached Fifty-Seventh Street, she said, “You may let me out here.”
He tossed her a look that said he didn’t appreciate being taken out of line for such a short drive, but he pulled to the curb; she paid and got out. The second taxi stopped several yards away. From the corner of her eye she saw the man climb out. She also saw a small newspaper boy running down the sidewalk in pursuit.
She didn’t wait, but made her way down the street, slowly as if window-shopping. She knew exactly where she was going and if all went well, she would still be in plenty of time to meet the detective sergeant—and without her “tail.”
She was fairly certain Mr. X wouldn’t be so unimaginative, so this was either a journalist or someone who had gotten wind of her involvement and wanted to find out what she knew or put a stop to her interference. Either way, she had no intention of letting him succeed or follow her to the park.
She stopped at the show window of a small store on the south side of Fifty-Seventh. When she was certain the man had seen her, she stepped inside the shop. She didn’t think he would follow her inside Martinson’s Ladies Foundations.
A bell jingled over her head as she entered the store.
The clerk, a robust woman of middle age, came to greet her. “We’ll be closing shortly if Madam would like something specific.”
“Yes,” Phil said breathlessly. “I do believe I’m being followed. A cutpurse or something. Do you have a back door?”
The woman looked alarmed. “I’ll telephone the police.”
“No, that isn’t necessary. My husband told me not to come out this late, but I didn’t listen.”
The woman pursed her lips. “I ’spect he knew best, now didn’t he?”
Phil nodded contritely. Looked around. He’d taken up a position outside the door and was pretending to look in the window.
“Nasty-looking character,” the clerk said. “This way. It lets out onto the alley and there’s a cut-through two doors down. It’s not a fitting place for a lady, but…”
“Thank you very much. You don’t know how much you’ve helped me.”
They hurried through the back of the store and the woman unlocked a heavy wooden door. Phil stepped out into a garbage-filled alleyway. Fortunately the chill of autumn prevented it from assaulting her nose. She sped along the brick pavement, her hand to her hat until she reached the passage the woman had told her about. One quick look showed that it was empty. She could see traffic on the street through the opening ahead.
She hurried toward it, slowed down before she reached the sidewalk, then peered around the corner of the building. The man was still there looking in the window. Holding her hat to her head, she stepped out onto the sidewalk and moved toward him, as any other pedestrian might.
But as she reached him, she pulled her hand from her hat and along with it, six inches of strong steel hatpin.
She stopped behind him, and stuck it into his neck, not far, just enough to get his attention.
“Move, and it will be the last thing you do.”
He stilled.
Well, that was successful. “Who are you?” Not Mr. X. Even in his most outrageous disguise, he’d never smelled of cheap liquor and body sweat.
He said nothing. She pressed the tip a little deeper into his neck.
“I’m just a mere businessman looking in a shop window.”
“You followed me from the Plaza Hotel. I want to know why.”
“What are you talking about?”
She gave him a little jab.
“Okay, okay. I’m a journalist!”
“For which paper?”
“With … with—” He moved so fast, she was afraid for a moment that she’d actually stabbed him, then his hand gripped her wrist and twisted it. She managed not to drop the pin, but she was certainly at a disadvantage. She stomped in the vicinity of his foot. Missed, tried again.
This time she made contact and he cursed at her.
A shrill whistle sounded close by. Not a police whistle, but a human whistle. The little human who had made it was running across the street.
From several directions, more boys ran toward her.
“Stay out of what don’t concern you. Or you’ll be sorry.”
“Who sent you?” She twisted away, but he’d seen them coming and he took off down the street, several of the larger boys going after him. The others crowded around her.
“Are you all right, lady?” Just a Friend asked.
“I am now, thanks to you and your … men. You saved my bacon.” The corner clock began to strike the hour. “Now I must hurry if I’m not to be late.”
She crossed the street and they fell in beside and behind her. Seems she was to have an escort to the park.
She welcomed the company.
John Atkins was waiting for her just inside the stone wall of the park entrance.
“Copper,” one of the boys warned, and they all spread like leaves in the wind.
Atkins was not amused.
“A strange group of companions,” he said, offering his arm as any other gentleman would walking in the park with a lady.
“Bobby Mullins has decided I need someone to watch my back.”
“And do you?”
“It seems so.” She told him about the man and the threat. “What does that sound like to you?”
He was silent for a few seconds. When he did speak, he said, “Lady Dunbridge, why is it that you manage to insinuate yourself into the stickiest of investigations?”
“Detective Sergeant, I can hardly be blamed for stepping off the ship into Bev’s husband being murdered. It was pure coincidence.”
“No, but you certainly took up the reins, so to speak.”
She smiled. Reggie had been an avid gambler and racehorse owner. “If you must know, I was afraid of whom you might arrest.”
“And this time? Was it pure coincidence?”
“I’m friends with the Pratts, and Gwen asked me to give her my support. It was the least I could do. And you know how women are.”
He raised an eyebrow at that. “How are women?”
“They talk among themselves, and it seems that I’m known as the great comforter.”
He barked out a laugh and led her to a bench by the small pond where they’d met before to discuss another case.
“Is it too cold to sit? We can keep walking.”
“No, this is lovely and quite frankly my knees are still a little shaky from my encounter.”
“He didn’t hurt you.”
“Not really. I had this.” She pulled her hatpin out of her hat where she’d returned it.
He leaned away. “Don’t wave that thing around. You’re lucky you didn’t kill the poor sod.”
“He would have deserved it. He threatened me.”
“Tell me exactly what he said.”
She told him. “It sounds like someone doesn’t want me looking into Perry Fauks’s murder.”
“That someone would include me.”
“But you wouldn’t send a thug to threaten me.”
“No, because I doubt it would do any good. And I’m afraid of hatpins.” He smiled and she forgot what they were talking about. He really should do that more often.
“So who do you think would?”
“I can think of several people. And I suggest you stay away from them.”
“Like the Fireplug?”
“Who?”
“Bev’s nickname for your nemesis Sergeant Becker.”
“An apt description. He doesn’t usually get involved in banking matters, but there are other people who do. And they have no compunction about ridding themselves, and the world, of annoyances.”
She swallowed. “Duly warned. Do you think Perry was murdered because of the banking panic or the stock market plunge?”
“It’s hard to say. This seems to be another case where they want answers but tie my hands.”
“It must be very frustrating.”
“It is.” He looked at her curiously.
“Well, maybe I can help.”
He shook his head.
“Just listen. We’re all on our way to Godfrey Bennington’s estate in Long Island for the weekend. If it’s one of the family or close friends, they’ll all be there.”
“Be careful and stay out of it.”
“Of course, but listen. And I want you to know that I deliberated before deciding to tell you.”
He turned toward her and rested his arm along the back of the bench, which made their positions a little more intimate, but also, she realized, gave him a view of the path and anyone who might be lurking nearby.
“Remember the jewel I found on the floor outside the laundry chute?”
“You said it was part of someone’s jewelry.”
“I said it could have been. But today I arrived at the Pratts’ house to find Gwen desperately searching for her letter opener.”
“And this letter opener was studded with fine jewels?”
“Evidently. We searched everywhere she could think of that she might have left it. To no avail.”
“Steel blade?”
“She didn’t say. But as I was holding my prisoner at bay with my hatpin a few minutes ago, I had to admit that the letter opener might have been the murder weapon. I haven’t seen it, but most of that ilk would leave a rent in fabric about the same size as the one in Perry’s jacket.”
“You may be right.”
“Which doesn’t mean Gwen killed him and stuffed him down the laundry chute.”
“You have such a way with words.”
She smiled. “It was a gift from her husband, whom she actually loves, and almost priceless. The Imperial topaz alone is worth thousands. A thief might have found out about it and thought with everyone busy at the ball, it would be easy to put inside a jacket and escape unnoticed.”
“There was no sign of a break-in. Are you suggesting it was one of the guests?”
She sighed. “I suppose. Preswick told me today that men are beginning to panic over losing money in this latest stock market drop. Englishmen are renowned for blowing their brains out over loss of a fortune. Maybe someone was desperate.”
“Possible. Or angry. Or jealous. But as I said, there’s not much I can do, except declare this a robbery gone wrong. They’d love me to find some poor slob to arrest.”
“Like the valet?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You don’t believe he did it.”
He was silent.
“Why is that? Have you … You have. You’ve found him.”
“Hiding out in Pittsburgh. They sent him back this morning. But I didn’t tell you that.”
She was flattered. He actually had confided in her.
“You don’t think he did it?”
He shrugged, looked out over the water. “He says he didn’t do it, but ran because he knew the police would frame him.”
“And are they?”
“They’ve already charged him.”
“So you’re no longer investigating?”
“Not officially.”
“You don’t think he did it?”
“He can’t prove that he didn’t do it.”
“Did they find the murder weapon?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss the case,” but he shook his head.
Things were looking bleak for the valet. “What about jewels? Maybe he took them out of the handle to sell.”
“Stay away from this.”
“Why? I’m trying not to irritate you.”
“It’s not that.” He half smiled. “Well, you do, but mainly it’s dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt. And there is nothing I can do to protect you.”
“You’re just going to let them sweep this under the carpet?”
He didn’t answer and he didn’t look at her.
“You can’t just give up.”
“I’ll keep looking for evidence, but without access to the Pratts…”
“But I still have access.”
“No.”
“Is that it? You’re just giving up? I guess your heart just isn’t in it.”
“My heart? My integrity, my honor, my reason for being a policeman is at stake.” He stopped, looked away.
Phil touched his sleeve. “I told the Pratts that you would search for the truth no matter where it landed.”
“I won’t be responsible when you go too far and get hurt or worse. Go to Long Island. Dance all night and shoot pigeons all day, but please don’t do anything to put yourself in harm’s way…”
His words gave her a rosy feeling for two seconds until he continued with “or screw up my investigation.”
“I won’t, but I can’t ignore it either.”
He had nothing to say to that. He knew she was right. And he knew that she wouldn’t stop. But she wished for a moment that she could explain.
They left a few minutes after that.
He stood on the park side of the street while she crossed and went into the hotel. A perfect gentleman, he didn’t want to wreck her reputation of being seen with a policeman in case someone recognized him. Which the boys certainly had.
She turned when she got inside the door and looked back. He was still standing there. He touched the brim of his hat and walked off down the street.