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October 18th, 1927 The Roxy Theatre
PAGE passed through the crowd in the theatre lobby, bestowing nods and smiles at people she vaguely recognized as she searched for two in particular. She felt she might find either one of them here. Or both. Any given night there would always be some party or event or function being held where Society types would gather. To gossip and mingle, mostly. Though it was often difficult to determine whether or not a specific individual would be in attendance. So Page had come in person to search for those she sought, hoping she wouldn’t have to look further.
Tonight, a number of worthies were electing to honor the Roxy with their presence for the premiere of a new motion picture. Page hadn’t noticed what that was, because she had more important matters on her mind.
Normally Matt would have accompanied her to a function like this, as a part of her research, but after what he’d told her last night, about the visit he’d had from the federal agent, she’d decided research would have to wait. The two of them had talked the situation over for a while, but it had been too long a day and they’d been too tired to think straight. But then they’d brainstormed over breakfast and come up with a plan.
Page had left the hotel to go shopping for a new wardrobe, taking Matt along to carry her packages as usual. But that had been a subterfuge so that he could slip away from the agent who’d been trailing him around and do a little shopping of his own. To get the supplies he’d need to set up their little trap. Unfortunately, that had meant visiting most of the stores on her own without Matt to help her. It had also meant a break from his unsolicited advice concerning what clothes he thought she’d look good in though. And it had been easy enough to have them deliver her purchases to the hotel.
But while he had his work to do tonight, she’d found herself with time on her hands. And while it was urgent to expose the remaining radicals linked to the ones who’d robbed the bank three years ago, and so deal with the threat from the federal agents who wanted Matt to spy for them, there was another unresolved problem that needed to be taken care of. Page hoped to do that tonight.
Even if the peril he posed to her helper was not as great as the other, Riggleston remained a potential problem. And he was definitely a pain, one she meant to deal with. She had already discovered the information she’d needed to figure out how to handle the man, thanks to Kelvin at the bank. The other day she had sicced Matt on Mr. Parker—perhaps it was the other way round, really—so she could see to finessing what she wanted to know about the Riggleston Trust out of that young bank officer. While Matt took care of the routine business of claiming funds from the Travelers’ Trust stipend. Now she’d take care of Riggleston.
Wearing a stiff silk dress of bright blue, in vivid contrast to her red hair, Page was attracting plenty of attention. Miss Macadam or Miranda might notice her first before she could find them, which was fine. She didn’t want to search all night.
If she didn’t run across either woman here, the next place to try was the Circle, where a private party was being held, which she’d have to crash. After that, there was a boring charity fundraiser going on in the Bronx. But it would be unlikely she’d find either in the outer boroughs. She’d do better to look around the thousands of clubs dotting Manhattan, and she certainly didn’t want to do that. Riggleston wasn’t worth it.
Then, just ten minutes before the film was supposed to start and she was resigning herself to moving on, Page caught sight of Miss Macadam standing tall and straight in a gold brocade jacket over a white dress. The woman was surrounded by a coterie of younger women at the far end of the long lobby. Gliding around the people in her path and sailing across the intervening space, Page then pushed her way through the woman’s entourage. She gave Miss Macadam a warm smile. “How well you look. It’s been ages.”
The older woman snorted and shook her head, the dark curls swinging energetically. “That’s rich, coming from you. No matter how many years have passed, every time I see you, you look precisely the same. Why, I haven’t seen you since—” she paused only a moment. “My birthday bash six whole years ago. And it might as well have only been six days to look at you. It’s not fair.”
More like three weeks, but Page couldn’t point that out, or that she had both a biological and temporal advantage over the other woman. Especially with the glares she was already getting from all the girls standing there listening. “I was wondering if I could have a quick word. In private.”
Miss Macadam grinned. “Juicy gossip? It can wait until after the show, can’t it? And if you’re in a sharing mood, maybe you’ll say why you only show up in the city every few years and never stay around for long? Where do you go the rest of the time?”
“I’m not sticking around for the film, but I suppose what I have to tell you can wait. Another time, perhaps?” Page made as if to leave, but the woman grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back.
Shooing the others away, she leaned forward to say in a stage whisper, “Alright, I’m curious. What is so important you sought me out this time?”
The gaggle of girls hadn’t moved very far. And they were rather obviously looking anywhere but at Page and Miss Macadam, underlining the fact that they were straining to hear every word. Perfect.
“I’m sure you know that Riggleston receives his income from a trust set up by his father, but do you know how it works? I happened to hear the details just yesterday, and I thought you’d be interested in them. Considering your opinion of the fellow.”
The woman’s eyes lit with interest, and her lips twisted in a predatory smile. “Blackguard is what I call the man, because that’s what he is. Now let me hear what you learned.”
“I don’t know if I should say. After all, I heard it in the strictest confidence.” By pretending she had heard all about it from Mr. Douglass, Page had been able to get Kelvin to let slip a bit, and using what he had told her himself, ended up getting every detail. But she didn’t want to get that young man into any trouble.
Miss Macadam squinted. “I won’t tell anyone.” Though she made no promises about what the others might or might not share. She was certainly intelligent enough to realize Page’s intention and was prepared to go along with it.
Page glanced at those young women studiously ignoring their conversation and grinned. “Alright. It’s just so unusual. Of course his father never had any confidence in Riggleston’s judgment, otherwise why set up the trust in the first place?”
“Obviously. The man was a big believer in hard work and making one’s own way and didn’t want to make things too easy for his heir, but I doubt he got the result he’d hoped for.”
“But what’s really fascinating is that Riggleston doesn’t even continue receiving the annuity, unless he stays single.”
Miss Macadam’s eyes went wide. “What?”
Page nodded. “Indeed. According to the terms of the trust, when Riggleston marries the quarterly stipend doubles, but instead of being paid to him it goes to his wife.”
The other woman stood in thought for a while, then nodded. “It makes sense. As the old man assumed his son would make his own pile before settling down to start a family, Riggleston would have no more need for the annuity. So he arranged for a wife to get it, presumably to use to keep house and raise the next generation. Since he wouldn’t rely on his son to see to that.”
That was sheer speculation, but Miss Macadam at least had an informed basis for it. Not that it really mattered why the father had set up the trust as he had, only that he’d done so. “But Riggleston junior—” Page refused to call him ‘the second’. “—is a free man still. Rather than making his fortune, he’s wasting what he gets on booze and betting and who knows what other vices.”
Miss Macadam nodded again. “And that’s why no woman I know has tried to drag him to the altar. They don’t want to marry a rich man, then live like they’re headed for the poorhouse.”
“But if he never marries, there won’t be any future generations.” Not that Page cared about that, but she wanted to give the women listening a good rationalization for chasing the man. If any of them needed one.
“However, according to what you say, he’s actually quite eligible, since a wife would gain control of his income.”
Page rolled her eyes. “Anyone who married him would still have to put up with his personality, and character or lack thereof, and whatever other horrible habits the man might have.”
Miss Macadam cackled. “But then you have no need of his fortune, and neither do I. I’m sure there are plenty who wouldn’t mind what they might have to live with in order to get it, though.”
“Which is why we need to keep quiet about this—if it becomes widely known, the man wouldn’t be able to turn around for all the spinsters who would be after him.” And oddly enough, by the standards of this era, Page would probably be considered one of those spinsters.
The older woman shook her head. “Mind you, I don’t imagine he’ll be an easy catch, but for some it would be worth the effort.” Especially if they had a head start on the competition. That ought to motivate the women listening, either for themselves or a friend or two they told.
Page nodded. In all probability, Riggleston had not remained a bachelor merely because he liked it, but also because he had a financial interest in staying unattached. Presuming he wanted to continue avoiding work, he had to avoid matrimony. But as soon as word got around, which it inevitably would now, he’d either be caught by a determined woman or driven out of the city. Either outcome would suit Page’s purpose as Riggleston would no longer be in a position to cause her or Matt trouble.
The first part of her mission accomplished, she wished Miss Macadam well and made her excuses, then left the theatre as the lights were dimming and a chime sounded to call the audience to their seats. Strolling out into the night, she asked the doorman to hail her a taxi and then told the driver to take her to the Circle Hotel. Because the second part of her program was to make certain Riggleston heard the bad news right away.
The timing of her arrival worked out well. The few dozen who’d appeared early for the private party were waiting in the lounge and wouldn’t be moving into the reserved dining room for quite a while yet. And Miranda was among those drinking cocktails already, apparently eager to get the party started. So Page simply approached her and asked for a private chat.
The woman wasn’t yet sloshed, and her expression was wary. But her judgment had already been impaired, and Page had little difficulty leading Miranda away from her friends and over to a secluded corner of the lobby.
Settling her onto a plush settee and then sitting beside her, Page revealed her newfound knowledge of the Riggleston Trust, and Miranda was surprised by none of it. She’d already known.
The slightly tipsy blonde shook her head. “I’m not interested in marrying the man. Even with the way that trust’s set up, I want someone who can do more for me.”
“More than just show you a good time.”
“Exactly. Riggles can be lots of fun, but you can bet I’m aiming higher.”
Page was rather taken aback by the unexpected attitude. She’d assumed Miss Masters would want to be first in line to tie the knot with ‘Riggles’. And not being interested, she also hadn’t shared the information with other women, which was also a surprise. That left only one way Miranda could still be useful. “You know where he can be found, though? Riggleston.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you are after him now?” Then she giggled.
“Hardly. But I’ll probably be one of the few exceptions soon. That’s the message I want you to deliver to him for me.” She certainly wouldn’t deliver it herself—she wanted as little contact with the cretin as possible. Miranda could tell him. “I’ve begun spreading word in Society circles about the terms of his trust. So he might want to leave New York and never come back.” And the sooner the better.
Miranda shrugged. “I guess I probably should let him know. Did you want me to say the warning came from you?”
“Yes. And tell him I’ll do far worse to him if he ever bothers me or Mr. Walker again.”
The woman gaped. “I’m glad I’m not your enemy.”
Page nodded. “Of course you’re not. And I am glad to hear that you’ve set your sights higher than Riggleston.” She’d done what she could now.
Swaying a bit, Miranda smiled back. “Thanks. I’ve known Hawthorne since kindergarten. And he takes me to classier places. I’ll have to marry someday, and he’d be better than the rest.”
“You mean Hawthorne the lawyer who runs the immigrant charity?”
Miranda tried to nod and shake her head at the same time. “He’s got regular clients, a proper practice. That charity thing is just for show.”
More than she knew, Page thought, but she set that aside. “You heard of my interest in the charity from him, didn’t you? And about Matt going to visit the tenement in Little Italy? And you told Riggleston.” Who hired those goons to rough him up.
The woman suddenly sobered. “It wasn’t some sort of state secret, now was it? So it’s not my fault if Riggles went and did something stupid.” Clearly she knew all about what he’d done. “What he does is no concern of mine.”
“I’m glad. So he can run around with assorted flappers and the like, and you don’t care?”
“Of course not. I know Riggles has other girls. The liberties go both ways.”
Both ways. Miranda clearly talked a lot to Riggleston, and she would share more with the lawyer she liked better. And the last time Page had talked to this woman, she had been pumping her for information about the Riggleston Trust and asking about which bank handled the man’s account, something Miranda obviously knew. At least when she was lucid. The American International State had to have been chosen as a target by the leader of the radicals for some reason, and that might simply be because he’d heard the name mentioned from time to time.
Matt had suspected Hawthorne from the start. Of course he’d been wrong about the lawyer having been behind the attack in Little Italy. But he might be right about him being behind the anarchist plot. Or it could’ve been Hendricks or any one of a number of people associated with the charity. They had to find out for sure.
Hopefully that trap Matt was springing tonight would expose the guilty party, whoever it was. But Miranda might realize at any moment that she had said too much, and to the wrong person, and warn Hawthorne, putting the man on guard if he was the brains behind the anarchists. So time was running short to get the proof they needed.