Fallen Women Page 10

  “Or maybe someone else was the father of your sister’s child.”

  “The legendary rich man who is going to leave his wife?” Beret almost laughed. She picked up her cup and sipped, but the tea was cold, and she set it down. Immediately, the waiter appeared with a fresh cup and poured hot tea into it. “It seems that if she had been at Miss Hettie’s for only three months or so that she was pregnant before she turned out. It happened when she was living with my aunt and uncle. That means it couldn’t have been a john, so it must have been Teddy—unless she met someone after she came to Denver, one of the Summers men perhaps.” Beret pondered that. “Do you think Edward killed Lillie?”

  Mick looked down at his hands. “I don’t know. It’s not unheard of, a mac murdering a working girl.”

  Beret winced at the words.

  “But what was his motive? There’s only one person I can think of with a real motive to want Lillie dead.”

  “Who?” Beret frowned.

  Mick stared at her a long time. “You.”

  “Me?” Beret’s hand holding the teacup shook, and she looked up, startled.

  “You’ve just told me you hated her, that she ruined your marriage.”

  “But I was in New York at the time. You know that.”

  “I do, but you could have hired someone. It wouldn’t be unusual with your mission work to come across a man who would be more than happy to kill your sister for a railroad ticket and a few dollars. And as you’ve said, you have more than a few dollars.”

  Beret was horrified. “Surely you don’t believe that. I wanted to humiliate her, not kill her. I may have wanted things on my terms, but I never hoped she would die.”

  Mick held his hands in front of him, the fingers pressed together. “Does it make sense? Yes. Do I believe it? No. I think whoever killed your sister knew her. The murder was too vicious, too personal. A hired killer would have stabbed her once, maybe twice, but not eight times.”

  “But you haven’t dismissed the idea of my culpability entirely.”

  “No.”

  “And what can I do to convince you of my innocence?”

  “I suppose you could help me find the killer.”

  Beret smiled a little. “Then you accept my help?”

  “I have no choice, do I?”

  “No, you don’t.” Beret stared at Mick until he looked away. “Do you think we should talk to Joseph Summers next?”

  “I do, but not until another time. You’ve had enough for one day.” He looked around for the waiter but instead caught the eye of the woman he had nodded to earlier. She and her companion were on their way out of the restaurant, but she stopped when she saw Mick looking at her, and when the man accompanying her paused to greet someone, the woman walked to the table. “Why, hello, Mick. I’d have come to give you my regards earlier, but you were so engaged in conversation, I’d thought you might be interviewing a murder suspect.” She laughed at the absurdity of what she’d said and turned to Beret. “He has such a ghastly occupation, don’t you agree?”

  “Why, I do agree,” Beret said, amused.

  Mick had stood when the woman approached the table, and now he said, “Caro, may I present Miss Osmundsen of New York. Miss Osmundsen, this is Mrs. Decker.”

  Caroline stared hard at Beret, and said, “You are Lillie’s sister, then. I did not know she had one. I am so sorry. You must forgive my insensitivity at making such a crude joke. Lillie was a lovely girl.”

  “You knew her?” Beret asked.

  “Through Judge and Mrs. Stanton, of course. I called on them after her death. Not many did, I’m afraid. But I always cared for Lillie. She was such fun, so lively. We all adored her.”

  Beret was touched and liked the woman immediately, thinking her kind to have overlooked the last months of Lillie’s life and her grisly death to extend condolences to the Stantons. She was not surprised others, not knowing what to say, had shunned her aunt and was grateful to the woman that she hadn’t smirked or exchanged glances with the detective when she realized who Beret was. “Thank you. I know my aunt and uncle were crushed at my sister’s death. As was I.”

  “Are you staying in Denver long?”

  “I’m not certain.”

  “Well, I hope so. We hope to take you up, don’t we, Mick? We’ll try to occupy your mind with something besides your sorrow.” She touched her gloved hand to Beret’s shoulder, then turned to Mick. “We’ve missed you.”

  He bowed his head slightly to acknowledge her words. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Well, I hope you solve this dreadful murder.” She nodded at Mick, then turned to Beret and said, “Miss Osmundsen,” and joined her companion, leaving behind the scent of perfume. Mrs. Decker whispered something to the man with her, and he turned and waved at Mick.

  “Decker.” Mick nodded in acknowledgment.

  “She’s very gracious. I like her,” Beret said. “Who are they?”

  “Decker is a banker, rather stuffy, with a small fortune of his own. He invests his money—hers, too—and I’m sure he’s good at it. Her father’s a very successful mining investor.” He paused. “His name is Evan Summers. Caro’s brother is Joey.”

  Beret’s head shot up, and she looked for the woman, but Caroline was gone.

  “Mrs. Decker is Joey Summers’s sister,” Mick repeated.

  A look of disgust came across Beret’s face. “She seemed like such a nice woman.”

  “She is, not at all like her father and brother.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “We grew up together.”

  “You mean just as you grew up with the bartender at the Arcade?”

  Before Mick could answer, the waiter set a check on the table near Mick. He picked it up, but Beret said, “That is my expense, Detective.”

  “Not at all,” Mick said.

  “Please. Charpiot’s is a very expensive restaurant. I do not mean to insult you, but I know what a detective is paid, and I don’t want you to have to eat beans for the next week to make up for your kindness to me.”

  Mick took out a gold coin and set it on top of the check. “You cannot keep picking up the restaurant checks, Miss Osmundsen. I believe I should clear up a misunderstanding. I do not live on a detective’s salary. My father might have been an Irish immigrant, but he was a very successful one. He owns hardware stores in Denver and Leadville. My parents move in the same circle as your aunt and uncle. I can well afford to pick up the tab for tea and brandy at Charpiot’s. In fact,” he added with a sly smile, “I could even afford to buy you dinner here.”

  “So, you are wealthy. Then why do you work as a policeman?”

  “Why do you work in a mission?”

  Beret mulled that over as she rose. “To be of service. I am of that group of people who believe that with wealth comes responsibility.” Then something occurred to her. “Your wealth puts you among the smart set of Denver’s young people. You must know Joey Summers personally?”

  “I do.”

  Beret took her inquiry one step further. “And my sister, did you know her?”

  “I met her.” He paused a moment, then taking Beret’s elbow, steered her toward the door. “But I did not recognize her body when I first saw it. She was covered in blood, and to tell you the truth, I didn’t know she lived at Miss Hettie’s. I didn’t know who she was until we went through her trunk and came across your aunt and uncle’s names.”

  Beret thought about that as she pulled on her gloves, straightening them over the backs of her hands. She asked suddenly, “Most men who met Lillie fell in love with her. Were you one of them?”

  Mick studied her for a long time, before he said, “No.”

  “Are you now?”

  “Miss Osmundsen, your sister is dead.”

  Chapter 8

  No more snow had fallen while the two were in the restaurant, but the wind had picked up, and Beret shivered as she left the overheated building. The day was ugly. Denver, too, was ugly, she thought, raw an
d unrefined, too new yet to have much style. Clouds hung over the city, holding down the smoke that came from the coal- and wood-burning stoves and turned the air dingy. The wind blew dried leaves along the streets. A newspaper swirled overhead and swooped down on Beret, attaching itself to her back like an angry bat, and she flailed about trying to remove it, but the paper held fast.

  Mick came to her aid, ripped off the newspaper, and crumpled it in his hand. Then as he dropped it into the gutter, he stared hard at someone who was moving quickly in and out of the crowd on the sidewalk, moving low to the ground as if he didn’t want to be seen. Beret saw Mick’s eyes narrow and followed his gaze as the man disappeared around a corner.

  “I’ve seen him before. Last week, he was outside the restaurant where we met Elsie. I saw him through the window, but I didn’t pay any attention to him. I thought he was just a tout. There are a thousand like him on the street. But it’s odd he would be at both places. I don’t much like coincidences.”

  “Perhaps he is following you, Detective,” Beret teased.

  “It’s more likely he’s following you. I think I’d better see you home.”

  “No need, Officer. I know the man.”

  “You do?”

  “After all, you said I knew a great many people, so it shouldn’t surprise you.” She waited for him to respond, but Mick didn’t seem to remember the remark, so she said, “He’s a former newsboy who was beaten by a group of bullies.”

  “From New York? That would be quite a coincidence, indeed. Did he follow you here?”

  “Oh no.” Beret paused, enjoying Mick’s confusion. “He is my aunt’s groom. He brought me to the police station.”

  “And now he’s following you? He looks familiar. I’ve encountered him somewhere.”

  “He is harmless, Detective. Uncle says the poor man is indebted to my aunt for taking him in. You see, two years ago or thereabouts, she rescued him from the bully boys and took him to a hospital. Then she hired him to work in my uncle’s stable. His name is Jonas Silk. Uncle says Jonas feels he let my aunt down by not protecting Lillie, although how he could have prevented her murder, I don’t know. I wonder that he knew Lillie had become a prostitute, but I suppose men like that always know. Anyway, he has taken it upon himself to protect Aunt and Uncle and, by extension, me.”

  Mick mulled that over, thinking. “Jonas Silk. Now I remember him. He’s not a very attractive fellow, is he? He looks demented.”

  Beret chuckled. “Surely, sir, you and I are too experienced to judge a book by its cover.” She held out her hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to take the streetcar home, since any hope I had of riding in my aunt’s carriage seems to have been frightened away.”

  * * *

  Beret had no intention of boarding the streetcar again, but she feared that if she told Mick of her plans to walk to the Grant Avenue home, the detective, unsure about what Jonas was doing on Larimer Street, would put her into a hack. Or he might even insist that he take her home himself. She did not want that, because of the chance of his encountering her aunt or uncle. She didn’t want Mick upsetting them by mentioning they had talked with Teddy. Mick might want to interrogate Jonas, and that would infuriate her aunt. Varina might be angry enough to demand that Beret stay out of the investigation. Besides, Beret had thinking to do, and walking cleared her mind.

  She started toward the streetcar stop, just in case the detective was watching, but paid little attention to where she was going and was startled to hear a voice call, “Beret!” She stopped, confused, hoping the detective had not deduced her plans to go on foot. But he would not have called her by her first name, and she knew almost no one else in Denver. Then she realized, disgust building up inside her, that she was in front of the Arcade, and the voice came from just inside. Teddy.

  She cringed, and her stomach felt sour, and she hurried on, but Teddy rushed out of the gambling hall and grabbed Beret’s arm and held her. “Let go of me,” she said, her voice a harsh rasp.

  “I have to talk to you.”

  “There is nothing to say that hasn’t been said already.” Beret closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the angry words that still taunted her and perhaps always would. She felt the bitterness that had been her constant companion for the past year.

  “Please. Let me take you someplace where we can get out of the wind. Would you like tea?”

  “I have already had my tea. Let go of me, Edward.”

  But Teddy wouldn’t. “I have something to say to you.”

  “There is nothing you can say that I care to hear.” She looked with loathing at the hand on her arm, but Teddy did not let go. What more could he possibly say? One thing, Beret thought, and told him, “The only thing I want to hear from you is why you murdered my sister.”

  “I didn’t. You know I didn’t. I told you that already.”

  “You’ve told me a great many things that weren’t true.”

  “I mean it, Beret. I never would have hurt her, although she’s not what you think—wasn’t what you thought, that is.”

  Beret yanked her arm away and looked at Teddy fiercely. She had already realized the truth of what he said, but she would not hear those words from him. “How dare you say that! You know as well as I do that Lillie was an innocent child and you ruined her life.”

  “She wasn’t innocent at all. You loved her too much. You didn’t see her clearly.”

  Beret seethed with fury. “Will you tell me then that she seduced you, that she joined a brothel by choice so that she could outfit you in the fashion to which you’d become accustomed by Osmundsen money? You have sunk very low indeed, Edward.”

  “I never took her money.”

  “Not at first, of course. I made sure of that. But later on, when what you had gotten from me stopped, didn’t you send her to work at Miss Hettie’s so that she could pay your gambling debts?”

  Teddy started to protest, but Beret put up her hand. “Oh yes, I know about your gambling. The debt collectors came to me, threatened me, threatened the Osmundsen name, so I paid, paid thousands of dollars. Lillie could not have underwritten your gambling if she had”—Beret considered her words—“slept with every filthy vagrant on Larimer Street. That’s what you turned her into, you know—a whore, available to any vag with a little money.”

  Teddy flinched. “That’s not true.” He grabbed Beret’s arm again and glared at her with such anger that she felt a flicker of fear. She had despised him, had hated him, but she had never been afraid of her husband. In all their quarreling at the time of the divorce, he had never struck her, never raised his hand or even threatened her. Beret wondered what her words had unleashed. If he had killed Lillie, whom he loved, wouldn’t he as easily kill her?

  Beret was not a timid woman. In her mission work, she had been threatened by drunken fathers, self-righteous husbands, malicious pimps, sometimes even the women themselves, and she had stood her ground. But she faltered now as she looked into Teddy’s eyes. She took a step backward and said, “Detective McCauley is contacting the men whose names you gave him, and we shall see if you were in Leadville when Lillie was killed. Neither the detective nor I believe you are innocent.”

  The anger in Teddy’s eyes faded. “I did not kill her, Beret. I swear I didn’t. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  “And drugs. Did you give her drugs?”

  Teddy’s eyes widened.

  “Yes, I knew you took opiates. It seems you owed the man who sold them to you. He came to me for payment. Did you give drugs to Lillie?”

  “Are you saying Lillie was a doper?”

  Beret wasn’t sure. The housekeeper told her after Lillie left that a maid had discovered a strange substance hidden in Lillie’s room, but she had thrown it out. So Beret hadn’t known whether it was an opiate or face powder or ordinary flour, for that matter. Many of the women who came to the mission were addicted to drugs. So were some of the members of New York society. When Beret discovered that Teddy experim
ented with drugs, she could not help but wonder if he had shared them with Lillie. Drugs would explain why her sister had moved into a brothel. Someone—Teddy or maybe Joey Summers—could have provided her with them, and then later on, Lillie could have purchased them from Miss Hettie or one of the other girls, maybe Elsie. Beret hadn’t discussed that with the detective sergeant, hadn’t wanted him to know she was convinced Lillie was a doper. “I have nothing more to say to you,” she told Teddy abruptly.

  “But I have so much I want to say to you. I have made a beastly mess of our lives—yours and mine and poor Lillie’s. I would give anything if I could take it back.”

  “Well, you can’t, can you? Besides, you have just told me it was Lillie’s fault.”

  “And mine. I will own up to that. I should not have let it happen. I have been unfaithful and cruel, and I have broken your heart.”

  Beret heard a warmth and sincerity in his voice that had not been there for a long time, but told herself she would not be seduced by it. After all, for the past year, Teddy had been out in the underworld of men who preyed on women for a living. He would have perfected the honeyed words they used to get what they wanted, not that he hadn’t known them already. “It was not you who broke my heart. It was Lillie. She was the one I loved. When I found out what you were, I was glad to be rid of you. I could not believe I had married such a scoundrel.”

  “You loved me once.”

  “You laughed at me! I caught the two of you together, and you laughed.” Beret took a deep breath to control herself. “Please, Teddy, you’ve already said everything there is to say, and it hasn’t worked for you. I don’t want to hear any more. No matter what you say, I have no intention of taking you back.”