Murder at Wakehurst Page 6

  “Perhaps not,” he replied absently. “What did you do prior to deciding you didn’t wish to watch the joust?”

  “I . . .” I had been eavesdropping, actually, but I didn’t wish to tell him that. “I circulated through the gardens. Like everyone else.”

  “Did anything in particular catch your notice?”

  I paused again, remembering how the argument between Imogene Schuyler and Jerome Harrington had most definitely caught my notice. I should simply have told Detective Myers about it, yet some impulse prevented me from doing so. I didn’t know why, for surely Imogene Schuyler wouldn’t spare me when it came time for her to be questioned. Or her mother, for that matter. Did I truly believe the young woman could have shot an arrow into her father’s chest? No. Despite how angry she might have been over her arranged marriage with Jerome Harrington, resorting to murder seemed more than unlikely.

  Although she had proven herself to be an excellent shot.

  “Miss Cross, answer the question, please.”

  “Oh yes. Um . . . the Shakespearean stage caught my interest, for one.”

  “Anything else?”

  “The archery competition.” The moment I mentioned it, I wished I hadn’t.

  His eyebrow went up. “Archery. Did you participate?” At my nod, he continued, “And did you do well at it?”

  “Well enough. But so did many other guests.”

  “Such modesty, Miss Cross. When I arrived earlier, I heard you won the ladies’ competition.”

  I shrugged. “Did I? I hadn’t been told.” I felt the temptation to point out how well Miss Schuyler had performed, but I held my tongue. Instead, I wondered how he had come by his information. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d had time to question anyone when you first arrived. Or that there had been any guests left. Hadn’t they all gone home?”

  “Most, but not all. So you participated in the archery.” His dismissive tone indicated he would give me no further hints as to whom he had spoken to. “Anything else?”

  “I enjoyed a cup of mulled wine, walked with my cousins—”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt?”

  “Yes.”

  His frown reappeared, even tighter. “Tell me, isn’t the entire Vanderbilt family in mourning? Didn’t the patriarch die only days ago?”

  “Yes, that’s true, but—”

  “Aren’t you yourself in mourning, Miss Cross?” He gestured with his pencil at the black armband I had all but forgotten I wore. “I have it on good authority you’re a favorite of the family, albeit a distant cousin.”

  He had apparently done a thorough job of researching his subject. “Yes, I am. But Mrs. Vanderbilt asked me to accompany them tonight.”

  “Odd. Why would that be, Miss Cross? Forgive me, but I’m guessing this isn’t your usual social circle.”

  A sigh made it all the way to my lips before I bit it back. “Mrs. Vanderbilt didn’t wish to be here tonight, but her husband insisted. Things being what they are, with his father’s death still so recent, Mrs. Vanderbilt feared he might do or say something regrettable. So she asked me to come along. You see, Mr. Vanderbilt and I have been close since we were children. Mrs. Vanderbilt believed my presence would influence her husband in a positive way.”

  “I see.” He drew out that second word, leaving me to wonder what exactly he did see, what conclusions he had drawn. “Are you aware of the tensions that existed between Cornelius Vanderbilt the elder and Judge Schuyler?”

  “What? What tensions?”

  “Of the business sort. Apparently, the judge made a ruling recently that favored union workers over a corporate alliance that included the New York Central, along with several other companies.”

  “Were these railroad workers?”

  “One would assume.”

  “I had no idea. My uncle rarely shared the details of his business affairs with me. Why would he?”

  The detective made a notation. “So, then, your cousin has been behaving in a way that raised his wife’s concerns.”

  “I didn’t exactly say that.”

  “You implied it.” His gaze pinned me to the back of the chair. “Could he have been upset with the judge?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  Because although Neily still worked for the New York Central, he took no part in the running of the company and hadn’t since his parents had disowned him for marrying Grace. But it wasn’t my place to explain any of that. I shook my head, unwilling to put words in my cousin’s mouth. If he wished to tell Detective Myers about his difficult relationship with his father, he could do so. “You’ll have to ask Mr. Vanderbilt about that. Besides, he was surrounded by friends and acquaintances the entire night. I never once saw him go off on his own.”

  “Supplying your cousin with an alibi, Miss Cross?”

  “Merely stating a fact, Mr. Myers.”

  “Hmph.” The quirk of his mouth told me my answer hadn’t impressed him. “Does your cousin smoke cigars?”

  I spoke from between gritted teeth. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “All right, Miss Cross, that will be all for now.”

  I remained sitting. “Did anyone count the bows?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “The bows. The footmen brought them up to the veranda. One can assume the murderer took one from there. The arrow that killed the judge looked like some of the ones used in the tournament. Was there a bow missing?”

  Detective Myers pinched his lips together and gave me a disparaging look. I didn’t think he would reply, but he said, “Apparently, the bows are all accounted for.”

  I took in that information. “Then . . . it’s highly likely the shot was made from the veranda, and the bow replaced with the others immediately afterward.”

  “No, you don’t, Miss Cross. You will not involve yourself in my investigation.” He sighed dramatically. “I see you can’t help yourself, but for your own sake, you had better learn some self-control.”

  A retort leaped to my tongue, but I knew better than to voice it. He wished me to go, but I hesitated again. “Will you answer one more question for me?”

  “Probably not.” But with a shrug, he relented. “If I am at liberty to do so.”

  “Why isn’t Jesse Whyte on this case? He’s been handling homicides in Newport for years now.”

  Detective Myers smiled, but not in a friendly manner. “You have yourself to thank for that, Miss Cross. You see, the police are tired of your meddling.”

  “I’ve assisted in solving numerous cases.”

  “Have you? Some on the force believe those cases would have been solved sooner without your interference.”

  “Jesse doesn’t believe that.”

  “Hence he has been reassigned.” He waggled a finger at the door. “On your way out, tell the footman I’d like to question your cousin next. Mr. Vanderbilt. Alone.”

  “You said Neily and Grace could go home.” In my sudden discomfiture, I used their given names.

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  * * *

  If I had believed those of us in the dining room would be able to speak freely, I was proven wrong. A uniformed officer had accompanied Detective Myers to Wakehurst, and it wasn’t my old friend, Scotty Binsford, but a man with whom I had little rapport. Not that he was to blame for that; unlike Scotty and myself, he had lived in Newport only a few years.

  His presence effectively halted any flow of conversation there might have been, and judging from the gazes we darted at one another, discussion would have been abundant. The brooding silenced weighed as heavily around us as the dark, carved woods and hand-tooled leather panels on the walls.

  Neily returned from the study, looking pale and drained, and wouldn’t quite meet my eye. The same could be said for Grace, when her turn came; except that unlike her husband, she cast me a remorseful gaze before taking a seat at the table. That look sent a chill through me. What had it meant? What had she said?

&
nbsp; Detective Myers called for Imogene and Delphine Schuyler together. How I longed to follow them and press my ear to the study door during their interview. I was quite certain that their time with the detective would be an interview, rather than an interrogation. They were the bereaved wife and daughter, essentially victims of the crime. But I couldn’t banish the image of their dry eyes from my mind. Nor my question of where Imogene had gone after her argument with Jerome Harrington.

  About two hours later, on the way home with Neily and Grace, I remembered something else that had happened, that had been eclipsed by Judge Schuyler’s murder. Their luxurious, high-sprung victoria carriage negotiated Bellevue Avenue, and even the more pitted and twisting Ocean Avenue, with a minimum of discomfort. The three of us sat side by side, each of us brooding silently. Grace hadn’t mentioned her time with Detective Myers, and I hadn’t yet discovered the reason for her remorseful glance at me. I’d give her time, perhaps call on her tomorrow.

  I glanced around her at my cousin and regarded his profile in the moonlight. “Neily, who was that man you argued with before everything happened?”

  He didn’t turn to regard me. “What man? I don’t remember.”

  “Don’t you? You were by the stage, reciting the lines along with the actors, when Mr. Van Alen announced the joust. You turned to follow the crowd but were detained by a rather large, sturdily built man.”

  Grace watched him closely, saying nothing.

  Neily fidgeted with his cuff link. “I couldn’t say. We must have bumped into each other.”

  “I thought so at first, but it looked more serious than that, Neily. You were clenching your fists. I went to separate you because I feared you’d come to blows.”

  “We didn’t, did we?” He tossed a defiant gaze at me, reminding me of the boy he had once been, challenging his siblings.

  “No, you didn’t,” I conceded. “He seemed rude to me, and his clothes didn’t quite fit him properly, did they?”

  “Really, Emmaline, the things you notice.” Neily sank lower on the velvet seat.

  “I’m only saying he didn’t seem to belong among Mr. Van Alen’s guests.”

  “Did you mention him to the detective, Emma?” Grace asked.

  “No. I’d forgotten all about him until just now.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Neily said. “He was no one. No one at all.”

  Chapter 5

  After I arrived home, Nanny made no secret about what she thought of Detective Gifford Myers. “The man’s an idiot. How dare he treat a respected member of the community, such as yourself, like a common criminal?”

  “I suppose he was only doing his job.” We sat outside the kitchen door—Nanny, Katie, and I—enjoying the cool breezes rolling in off the ocean. Nanny had heard me come in and padded her way downstairs to ask how the evening had been. Katie had still been up, writing a letter to her family in Ireland. Nanny had brewed a pot of strong tea and Katie had carried the tray outside, to the long wooden bench under the moonlight.

  “It sounds to me like he’s tryin’ to make a name for himself, being new to Newport and all.” Katie lifted the teapot and questioned Nanny and me with a look. I shook my head, as I was still nursing my first cup.

  Nanny held hers out for Katie to refill. “Yes, making a name for himself as an idiot. And replacing Jesse? Absurd. Why, you and he make a fine team. You’ve proven that, and then some, over the years.”

  A little gleam entered her eye. There had been a time when Nanny had hoped Jesse and I might make another sort of team, one that involved setting up a household together as man and wife and raising a small army of children. There had been moments when I might have agreed with her, but for the wrong reasons. At any rate, I believed both Jesse and I had made the right decisions concerning our futures, and we would always remain close friends.

  “I think that’s part of the problem,” I said, responding to her last comment. “It doesn’t sound as if the department appreciated my helping Jesse with cases.”

  “Then they’re a department of idiots.”

  “Nanny, please.” I chuckled—I couldn’t help it. Once she made up her mind about someone, she rarely changed her opinion. “I do regret that Jesse’s career might be suffering because of me.”

  Nanny and Katie both nodded their agreement, and we were all quiet for several moments while we sipped our tea and watched the ragtag clouds whipping across the moon.

  Katie was the first to break the silence. “Then he made no arrest, this Detective Myers.”

  “Apparently not. He let everyone go home.” I drew in a salt-laden breath of air. I told them about the argument between Miss Schuyler and Mr. Harrington. “The murder could have occurred anytime after I saw the judge beckon to his daughter, until I found him during the joust. Which makes the whereabouts of the pair during that time highly significant.”

  “I’ll wager it happened as the joust began, right before you found him. The joust provided the perfect distraction, after all. He couldn’t have been dead long.” Nanny reached up with her free hand to tuck a stray wisp of silver hair back beneath her kerchief.

  “That does make the most sense,” I agreed.

  “Poor Judge Schuyler.” Even by moonlight, Katie’s eyes were a bright cornflower blue as she leaned around Nanny to regard me. “It’s not many a swell that champions workers. Could it have been another of his class, someone angry about the judge’s ruling?”

  I thought of Detective Myers’s insinuations concerning Uncle Cornelius and, more important, Neily. The thought of the police making that kind of connection unnerved me, especially when I knew Neily would never have committed murder on his father’s behalf. But that didn’t mean some other member of the Four Hundred hadn’t taken revenge against Clayton Schuyler, someone who had lost a good deal of money due to the ruling.

  “I don’t suppose the judge hailed from a working family and made his own way up?” Katie sounded a little dreamy, as if she very much wished to believe this version of the story.

  I shook my head. “The Schuylers are an old Dutch family from New York, even though this branch moved to Philadelphia and Judge Schuyler served in the Pennsylvania judicial system. Their wealth goes back generations, and they’re heavily invested in real estate, railroads, and steel.”

  “That makes it all the more unusual that he sided with those union workers.” Katie gave her head a quick shake, stirring her spiraling red curls, which she had let down for the night. “And so much sadder that he’s gone. We need more men like him. So few swells spare a thought for anyone but themselves and their purses.” This last she said with more than casual disapproval. Katie had once worked at The Breakers for my relatives, Cornelius and Alice. She ducked her head. “I’m sorry, Miss Emma, I’m speakin’ out of turn again.”

  “Nonsense,” I said. “You may always speak your mind here without fear of reprisals.”

  “What kind of workers were they?” Nanny asked.

  “If the judge’s ruling affected the New York Central, they had to be railroad workers of some sort,” I replied, wishing I had more information. Though most industries experienced strikes on a fairly regular basis, I could remember no articles about this particular matter from the Associated Press, no reports bearing Judge Schuyler’s name.

  Nanny lifted her ear to the breeze, and I became aware of a knocking that had been going on these many minutes. “It’s that shutter again,” she said with a sigh.

  “I’ll try to fix it in the morning.” And then I remembered that, thanks to Uncle Cornelius’s generosity, I wouldn’t have to. Katie had spoken true in one sense. People like the Vanderbilts could be callous and indifferent one day, and generous to a fault the next, if the cause appealed to them. I had long been one of those causes. “Come to think of it, I’ll hire a handyman to come out and tighten all the shutters and see to anything else that needs fixing.”

  I fell to brooding about the events at Wakehurst. Something kept nagging at me. “That man who argued
with Neily . . .”

  “What man?” Nanny’s question startled me out of my reverie.

  “Haven’t I mentioned him?”

  “No, you haven’t. You named everyone the detective questioned. Who did Neily argue with?”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t know, and Neily wouldn’t tell me.”

  “‘Wouldn’t,’ or couldn’t, Miss Emma?” Katie again leaned around Nanny to see me.

  “I’m not sure. Neily was fairly deep in his cups, and at the time, I thought perhaps one of them bumped into the other and it escalated from there. You know how young gentlemen can be.” I considered. “Except that the other man had at least a decade on Neily, so he was no hot-tempered young buck. And then there was the matter of his clothing.” I described my impressions of his attire.

  Nanny had been about to start on her third cup of tea, but held it aloft without sipping. “Either he’s such new money, he hasn’t had time to find a good tailor, or he didn’t belong there. Did you ask Mr. Van Alen?”

  I shook my head. “Regretfully, no. I’d forgotten all about him until the ride home in the carriage. It had seemed no large matter, except . . .”

  “Except what, my lamb?”

  “Neily looked so angry, I hurried over to them to prevent a fight.”

  “That doesn’t sound like your cousin,” Nanny said with conviction, and even Katie nodded. Her ordeal at The Breakers, which had led to her dismissal, had been appalling, but Neily had played no part in it. She had never had a negative thing to say about him.

  “No, it doesn’t. Even drunk. Of course, he’s distraught over his father’s death, for all he won’t admit it. That can make anyone act out of character.” I sighed. “But this . . . I don’t know.”

  “I do,” said Nanny quietly. “You need to find out who this man is, and why he attended the fete tonight. He could be the answer, Emma. Or part of it.”

  “What about Miss Schuyler?” Katie faced straight ahead, toward the ocean lapping at the edges of the property. Moonlight played on the foamy eddies and on the droplets dancing over the rocks. “It sounds as though she had the strongest reason to want to be free of her father, not to mention having a sharp eye with a bow and arrow.”