A Devious Lot (Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries Book 5) (18 page)

A woman answered the phone at the Ridgeway Shelter and Molly asked if she could talk to someone in charge about Penelope Cassidy.

“You’d have to talk to Wayne Peabody, director of the shelter,” she said.

“Is he available?”

“Let me check. Hold, please.”

It was a long holding time, but Molly didn’t mind. She finished her salad and drank her bottled lemonade. Eventually, a man’s harried voice said, “This is Wayne. You’re calling about Penelope Cassidy?”

“Yes, I understand she used to volunteer at your shelter,” Molly said.

“That’s correct,” he said curtly.

“Ridgeway is a homeless shelter?”

“We’re open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, every day of the year,” he said, speaking fast. “We serve a hot meal at noon and sandwiches for supper at five. We have accommodations for women and children, and a separate area for men. Our mission is to help people transition out of homelessness by finding them a job, and if they have substance-abuse problems, we get them help. We try to be a helping hand. Are you in need of help?”

“Not the kind you think,” Molly said.

“Are you a reporter?”

“Ah, no. Well, yes. But for an antiques and collectibles magazine in the U.S., and that has nothing to do with my call.”

“You wouldn’t be the first reporter to inquire if Penelope is still on our board.”

Molly was confused. “The shelter’s board?”

“Yes. Penelope was a part-time volunteer, as well as a member of the board of directors,” he said. “She excelled at networking with area businesses and helping people find jobs.”

“Is she also a financial contributor?”

“Yes.”

“Is she still contributing?”

“Yes.”

Molly was getting frustrated. It was obvious Wayne Peabody wasn’t going to make this easy for her. She had to be up front with him. She told him about Penelope’s disappearance from Marlow Crossing and waited for his reaction.

He sighed over the phone. “Penelope had a tragedy occur in her life,” he said. “She moved away after that event to find solace, and temporarily ceased all communication with the shelter.”

“She told you she was leaving London to find solace?”

“Yes, that’s how she put it.”

“You spoke to her, after Dora Lang died?”

“Ah. You know about Dora. Penelope told me about her accidental death, but not on the phone or in person. She sent an email. I wrote her back, and asked how we could help. She never responded. I’ve been hoping to hear from her.”

“And she keeps sending money?”

“It’s an automatic payment sent from her bank,” he said. “She hasn’t cut all ties, you see, which is why I thought she’d get in touch. She’s such a kind and gracious woman.”

“Is she still a member of the board?”

“Yes, for the present. If I don’t hear from her before elections come round in a few months, she’ll be off.”

“I was told she met Dora at the shelter,” she said. “Can you tell me about that?”

“Why should I?”

“Why not? Dora is dead, and Penelope is missing. You might know something that will help me find her.”

He hesitated, but finally said, “I was here the night Dora staggered in off the street. Penelope got her a plate of food, and sat with her all night. In the morning, she told me she was going to help Dora.”

“How did she do that?”

“She set her up with the best doctors and got her into rehab. Whatever Dora needed, Penelope provided. It was amazing to see her transformation.”

“What did you think about her giving her a job at her store, and letting her move in with her?”

“I’ll be honest with you. In the beginning, I wasn’t wild about the idea, but Penelope assured me it would all work out. And she was right, it did.”

“What was Dora’s addiction?”

“Drugs. Specifically, heroin. We’re at war with drugs and alcohol in this shelter. The addiction, the hopelessness, it goes on outside our doors every day, every night, and we’re not winning. Of course, there’s the occasional battle won, like Dora, but overall, we lose more people than we save.”

“I think you’re underestimating the good work you do,” Molly said. “You may not be able to help everyone, but surely you’re helping a lot of people.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, and I thank you for it,” he said. “It’s easy to get discouraged.”

“Did Penelope ever talk to you about a town called Rimstock?”

“No, but Dora did.”

Molly stared at her phone. How stupid was she? She hadn’t even considered the magnet belonged to Dora. “She had a connection to Rimstock?” she asked.

“Apparently she lived there for a time before she came to London,” he said. “She told me Rimstock was a peaceful oasis in her life, and she regretted blowing it by getting hooked on drugs again.”

“A peaceful oasis makes it sound like she didn’t live there very long.”

“I think she was staying with friends there, but when she started using again she left. I don’t know the circumstances, if they kicked her out or she went on her own accord. That’s all I know about Rimstock.”

“But she told you about it, so do you think she told Penelope?”

“Oh, yes, no doubt,” he said. “They were very close.”

“When was the last time you saw Dora?”

“Years ago. Once she moved in with Penelope, she never came back to the shelter.”

“She didn’t want to give back, volunteer, let people see a success story?”

Wayne was silent a moment. “No,” he said. “Dora wasn’t like Penelope.”

“In what way was she different?”

“In all ways,” he said. “Penelope was an angel of light.”

“Meaning what? Dora was a dark angel?”

“Dora wanted to be good,” he said. “I truly believe that. But changing someone’s heart is a lot harder than giving them a job or transforming their appearance. If you knew Penelope, you’d know she’s a very giving person who truly wants to help people.”

“Okay, I get that, but why slam Dora? Are you suggesting she didn’t care about anyone but herself because she didn’t want to volunteer at the shelter?”

“I suppose I am,” he said slowly. “And hearing it put that way, I feel quite ashamed. She didn’t owe me anything. She owed it all to Penelope.”

Molly sighed. “I can only imagine how hard your job is,” she said. “And from what you’ve told me about Penelope and Dora, it sounds like a success story that had a sad ending. All that hard work, on both of their parts, and the close friendship they’d shared, gone in an instant. I’m beginning to understand why Penelope ran away from everything and everyone she knew. She was grieving. And she’s probably still trying to make sense of it.”

“I suppose Dora’s death has changed her,” he said. “Mourning the loss of a loved one is never easy.”

“That’s true,” Molly said. “I’m sure her life hasn’t been the same since the day Dora died.”

London, England

July 16, 1851

Lillian stared out her second-floor bedroom window at a clear sunny sky. It was perfect weather for a carriage ride to Hyde Park to the Crystal Palace. But instead of going there to meet Julius, as they’d planned, she was locked in her room on strict orders from her father. Asking him why didn’t get her any answers. Her father was mute on the subject. If it wasn’t for her little spy, Margaret, she would never have known.

The previous day, Margaret had witnessed Percy going into their father’s study. They met for twenty minutes, and voices were raised, but try as she might, Margaret couldn’t get close enough to the door to hear what was being said. There were too many servants about. When Percy emerged, he looked furious and stormed out the front door. Margaret quickly went out after him, running and skipping to catch up to him on the street, but his strides were long and she turned heads, hoping and praying no one told their mother she was making a spectacle of herself.

When she finally reached Percy, he refused to tell her what the meeting was about. Instead, he brought her to his home and had her wait in the parlor while he wrote a letter to Lillian. He sealed it, and made Margaret promise not to open it. She was to give it only to her sister. Margaret promised.

Lillian looked down at the letter on her lap. She’d read it so many times, her eyes were sore. There was a knock on the door, and she quickly tucked it into the folds of her dress.

“Come in,” she said.

Margaret came into the room and closed the door behind her. “Are you well, Lilly? You didn’t come down to breakfast, and I was worried about you.”

Lillian felt her lower lip tremble. “Come here, little one,” she said.

Margaret sat beside her on the window seat and took her hand. “Will you tell me what’s in Percy’s letter?” she asked.

Lillian looked at her little sister. “You’re so young and innocent,” she said. “If I tell you, all that will change.”

“I’m old enough to hear whatever it is you have to say,” Margaret said bravely.

Lillian hesitated. It wasn’t her place to talk to her sister about the ways of men. That unpleasant duty belonged to her mother. But Margaret was her ally, and had been from the first day she’d met Julius at the Great Exhibition. Without her support, she never would have known what was going on under their own roof. Margaret was as involved as Julius and Percy in trying to help her escape from the clutches of Victor Henson.

“All right, I’ll tell you, but you must promise not to tell a soul, ever, ever, ever,” she said.

Margaret sat up straighter. “I give you my solemn oath, I shall never tell,” she said.

Lillian took a deep breath. “Percy and Julius followed Victor to Whitechapel on Monday night.” She let her breath out slowly. “Do you know about places like Whitechapel?”

“You mean the slums?”

Lillian was taken aback. Perhaps her sister wasn’t as naïve as she thought. “Yes, the slums,” Lillian said. It was time for the brutal truth. “Victor was with a fallen woman.” She said the words quickly, getting them out as fast as she could, and hating the sound of them. Margaret stared at her. “Percy told Father what they witnessed, but it hasn’t changed his mind about the marriage. He insists I go through with it.”

Margaret’s face paled. “I don’t understand,” she said quietly. “How can Father allow it, now that he knows the truth? Doesn’t he believe Percy?”

“I can only hope he doesn’t,” Lillian said. “To consider the alternative, that he does believe him, and yet still insists . . .” Her voice trailed away and tears filled her eyes. “Oh, dear God in Heaven, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Lillian burst into tears. As her crying became a deep racking sob that shook her entire body, Margaret pulled her head onto her shoulder and rubbed her back. When Lillian eventually lifted her tear-stained face to her, she could see the misery in Margaret’s eyes and knew it was a reflection of her own.

“Julius asked me to meet him this morning at the Crystal Palace,” Lillian sniffed. “He thought he could find a way to stop the marriage, and I know he and Percy have tried, but it won’t work. I know in my heart I will never see him again.”

“Let me go to him,” Margaret said. “He might have thought of something else.”

“No, it’s too late,” Lillian said. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Perhaps it’s best we end this without any further words. There’s nothing more either of us can say or do.”

“But he loves you, and I know you love him,” Margaret said. “Give me a message for him. I’ll have Edmund take me to the Crystal Palace. Father won’t know. He’s at his club, and Mama is in her room lying down with one of her headaches.”

“No, dear. I won’t have you getting mixed up in this any more than you have,” Lillian said firmly. “If Edmund ever told Father, even by accident, that he took you to the Crystal Palace alone, the truth would come out and we would all suffer for it.”

“But how can you leave Julius this way?”

Lillian smiled sadly. “He knows I shall always love him,” she said. “And I’ll tell you a secret. I gave him a portrait of my eye, so he might remember me whenever he looks at it.”

“That’s not good enough!” Margaret said far too loudly.

“Keep your voice down,” Lillian said.

“I’m sorry, Lilly, but you can’t leave things like this. He should know you’re locked away, and couldn’t say good-bye to him in person.”

Lillian gently touched her sister’s cheek. “Julius doesn’t need to hear it from you. Percy and Harriett know the facts. I’m sure one of them has already told him. He knows it’s over.”

Margaret’s fists clenched. “It isn’t fair,” she said.

“No, it isn’t,” Lillian said. “Sometimes, dearest, we don’t get what we want in life. We must learn to accept our fate.”

It was Margaret’s turn to cry.

Lillian held her close, and cried with her.

Chapter 20

Checking the map app on her phone, Molly was pleased to see it was only a fifteen-minute walk from Kensington Gardens to the Victoria and Albert Museum. She threw her trash away and set out down the path. She hoped one day, in the not-too-distant future, she and Matt would return to London. She loved its history, beautiful gardens and interesting shops, the many ethnic restaurants available and the theater. One night they’d gone to the Criterion Theatre at Piccadilly Circus to see the play production of
The 39 Steps
. As they mingled with the throngs who gathered at the center of the Circus around the Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain, she was amazed at all the different languages being spoken.

The Victoria and Albert Museum was one of her favorites. On a rainy day, she and Matt had spent hours exploring its collections. She particularly enjoyed the antique furniture and jewelry on display, as well as textiles and fashion. When she arrived, she went directly to the information desk and was informed that Blaze Hunter was waiting for her in the V&A Café. Molly could find him at a corner table by the entrance.