CHAPTER SIXTEEN
L eona paced through the parlor, a headache growing behind her eyes. Menace had infused Jesper when she’d ripped off his mask, when Iris had revealed Leona’s identity.
Stop her. Shut her up.
Would they come for her?
As soon as she talked to Gil, she’d go to the police station and tell Detective Day Audrey Larkin had returned.
She’d tell them what she’d learned about Benedict Van Wyn and the blackmail ledger.
Then to Geneva to demand the return of her memoir, because she’d solved the puzzle for her and found the monsters for herself. And then the ordeal would be over.
As for Gil, if they were in danger, she must warn him. Even if what she told him would cause harsh words and raised voices, not the soft whispers and caresses she craved. She’d only wanted to protect their life together.
Gil arrived home late but with a smile in his eyes, his arms filled with flowers, chocolates, and a bottle of madeira. He poured for both in the front parlor and handed her the glass. She gulped it down.
“I have to tell you something, something more about Daphne’s death.”
His eyebrows went up. “The coroner ruled her death as natural. What can have happened now?” He sipped from the madeira and glanced out the darkened window. “Unless Benedict Van Wyn got impatient and figured out a way to fool the authorities and—”
“No, Gil! That’s not what happened!”
His eyes snapped back to her face. The concern wiped away his gloating expression. “My love, what is it?”
“A thief stole Daphne’s jewelry on the night of her—” She swallowed hard. “Murder.”
His hazel eyes narrowed, and all the pleasant lines of his face hardened. “I wasn’t serious about Benedict, Leona.”
“I’m very serious, Gil. It seems some people believe I had something to do with the missing jewelry.
I thought Benedict Van Wyn spreading lies to cover his own guilty trail.
And I had to do something, Gil, before the gossip got out of control.
” She stopped herself from telling him about Geneva and her memoir, just barely.
“What have you done?” His dark tone rumbled through the parlor.
The words came leaping from her throat now.
“I’ve been looking for Audrey Larkin, you recall, Daphne’s nurse?
And my looking for her led me to a medium, down off Flatbush Avenue, to a street close to the southern edge of the park.
I thought she knew something and was hiding.
Maybe from Benedict. Or someone else. And I thought she might also be guilty of taking the jewels and murdering Daphne. ”
“Slow down.”
“And some people think I am a suspect, because it’s known we have financial problems. And because I was close to Daphne.”
“What about the police?”
“That’s Detective Day. He was at the Van Wyn house, investigating the crime. He kept telling me to stay out of it, like you, but I couldn’t, Gil. I can’t explain why.”
“Go on.”
“I overheard Benedict and Jesper talking. They’re blackmailing Benedict and a lot of other people.”
“Why did you not tell me this was going on before, Leona?” he shouted, standing. “It’s been three weeks since her death!”
She had braced for his anger and faced him squarely. “I’m not done yet, Gilbert Gladney! Be quiet and listen to me.”
Anger shook him and his face flushed.
“So.” No, she couldn’t say anything about Geneva coming to the house, her terms. Leona simply could not tell him about what was in the memoir right now.
He’d have an apoplectic fit. “I went to the spiritualists and made an appointment to attend a seance because Daphne, Adeline, and Mr. Van Wyn, plus many of Daphne’s friends, go to seances there.
” She pushed on, the words somehow finding their way out around Geneva’s outrageous demand.
“I pretended to be Elmira St. James and wore a heavy black veil, so neither Audrey nor Benedict Van Wynn would recognize me. I also limped, using a cane.”
“Pretended.”
“Gil—”
“And?” he demanded.
“And in walked Audrey Larkin today, sweet as you please. Wearing some of Daphne’s jewelry, no less. Her real name is Iris Frost.”
He made no sound. His lips went white as he pressed the blood from them in an apparent effort not to speak.
Panic sluiced through her. “Gil, I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to worry you, and I thought I could take care of this myself because that’s the kind of person I’ve always been, and I can chop my own wood and—and—”
“Take a breath, Leona,” he snapped.
She let out the breath she was holding instead. “I wanted to keep the danger from our door, but it seems I can’t,” she said. “Audrey—Iris knows me, they tried to stop me from leaving but I got away.”
He thumped his open palm against his forehead. “I should never have told you about our financial problems!”
“But I didn’t do anything.” Shamed by his tone, she nearly bit her tongue getting the words out. “You know me better than that!”
“You cannot go to jail, Leona!” His voice held wild panic, as if her own emotions had sparked an ember in him.
“I told you, I’m not the guilty one!”
He shuddered and sat again. His face collapsed into worry. “Darling. I do know you better than that. Please, forgive me.” He appeared to pull himself together. “Who is this person, this Audrey-Iris?” he asked more calmly.
Leona said, “She was Daphne’s nurse.”
“And you saw her at the house of the spiritualists, where Benedict and Daphne frequented with their friends.”
“Well, she lives there. She was coming back from a trip. I think they must be blackmailers and also stealing from many people, Gil. Like Daphne.”
“She lives with the spiritualists?”
“I think so. Her brother is Jesper Frost and his wife, Millie. I have some pamphlets—” Turning to the bookshelf where she’d hidden them a few days before, she pulled them out.
“I thought you were home.” He appeared at a loss as he took them from her.
“Here at home, safe. You wanted freedom of movement, to go to suffrage meetings, and to do works of charity.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his tone pleading.
“I gave it to you even when you should have been here, tending our home. This is where such freedom has led you? This is monstrous, Leona.”
They stared at each other, breathing hard. His words hurt—her freedom granted by her husband. The Law, Society. God himself. But the coin had two sides—he’d trusted her. A knot at the heart of the fire popped into a shower of sparks. She searched for something, anything, to sweeten his mood again.
“Grandfather is arriving in a week.” Sorrow and regret for upsetting Gil filled her. “By then, all of this will be over. I’ll ask him again about the second loan. And then—Christmas.”
He nodded. “A week and a half, yes.” A bleak shadow flashed in his eyes, but he recovered quickly. “You will stay home from now on. I will endeavor to—to be home myself more often. We will save money if I close my office and work from my study.”
Bitterness caught in her throat. She willed herself not to cry in front of him.
“Promise me, Leona. Promise me you will let the police handle this matter from now on.” His tender tone hardened and his eyes sharp. For all his words about staying home with her, he began to button his shirt. He fixed his collar and reached for his coat hanging on the back of a chair.
“Where are you going?” she cried, her heart scoured raw.
“I need to go out!”
“Stay and talk to me!”
In fury, he advanced on her. She tightened her fists as he came.
Before this moment, she’d had no fear he’d ever hit her.
He was not at all like those who treated their wives as chattel with the law supporting their violence.
She braced herself to fight back anyway, but he only grabbed her upper arms.
“What have you done?” he whispered. “You’ll ruin everything. But I’ll find out what’s going on, Leona, do not fear.”
“But, Gil—” She knew too well what was going on. Hadn’t he been listening?
He let go of her. “You are not to leave this house.”
She staggered away from him. “But I must, Gil. You don’t know—”
His expression was—how could she describe it but malevolent? The face of a man on a battlefield intent on killing his enemy before his enemy kills him.
“I know enough. I’m going straight to the police.”
Leona stood frozen as the slam of the door faded away. The fire continued to pop and mutter to itself. The clock chimed the hour of eight. She didn’t know whether to feel relief or fear. The mix of emotions shook her so hard, her teeth chattered.
She’d never had to rely on his protection before.
Life together had been like the spokes on a wheel.
Literary interests and work radiated out from its center, the lovely big house on Cranberry Street.
She’d feared shattering this safety for good reason.
Now her heart lay in bloody tatters on the floor.
The wolf, perhaps not at the door, but on their trail.
They were not safe. Could Gil make it right?
She paced as her thoughts and emotions poured through her tired brain. For the first time, she’d seen the hunter in her husband’s face. His mask of sophistication and erudition knocked off by her blundering about trying to keep him in ignorance. And what could he even do about it?
Her thoughts raced apart and squirmed together as the hours ticked by.
What about tomorrow and the day after that?
Was she truly trapped here in this house she loved?
Would they have to dismiss Mrs. McCarthy to save money, too?
This would only tie her to domestic chores.
While her husband worked in his study at home, she would fall further behind in her memoir and then. ..madness.