A Golden Cage (25 page)

Elspeth shook her head.

“I'll be fine,” Deanna whispered.

Elspeth gave her the evil eye.

“Promise.” She tiptoed down the side aisle of the theater, found the door Mersey had used, and pushed her way in. She was in a hallway that ran down the side of the stage. Several doors led off from it, and Deanna surmised these were dressing rooms.

She walked slowly by each one until she heard voices. One was Mersey's, and he sounded very angry.

Deanna crept forward to hear better, staying close to one of the long velvet curtains that edged the stage. She could see Mersey's back as he stood at the door of one of the dressing rooms.

“Where is she? One of you must know.”

No sound. Deanna wondered whom he was speaking to; possibly Noreen, since she hadn't seen her in the auditorium or onstage.

“We don't know.”

That sounded like Timothy.

“And furthermore, we don't appreciate you bursting in here and making threats.” Gil's voice.

“That little minx is causing me a huge amount of trouble. And if you don't tell me where she is, I'm going to pass that trouble along to you.”

“We don't know where she is.”

Deanna allowed herself to breathe. That was Noreen's voice. “In fact, we think she's dead. Killed by whomever killed Charlie.”

“By your friend in jail?”

“Perhaps.”

Deanna expected to hear Gil's and Timothy's hot denials, but no one said a word.

“I don't envy him if that's true,” Mersey said. Mersey almost sounded frightened himself.

It was a gruesome thought. Rollie, a murderer; he would face execution if found guilty. But Belle wasn't dead. At least she hadn't been yesterday.

“If you see her, tell her I have a message for her. He reached into his breast pocket, leaned over out of Deanna's sight. Was he giving them a card?

“Sure thing,” Gil said.

Mersey turned and strode back the way he'd come. Deanna just had time to press into the curtain before he passed. She stuck her head out, then walked into the dressing room. She reached the door just as Noreen was about to shut it.

“Where did you come from?” Noreen asked.

Deanna pulled her into the hallway. “From Mrs. Deeks's house. Belle is gone. And the police were arriving just as I was leaving. I barely got out in time. I was hoping she came here.”

Noreen shook her head.

“Are you sure? Because she really needs to come forward and tell us what she knows.”

“Maybe Belle really did kill him.” Timothy stood in the doorway, looking angry and tragically handsome. The others stood around him, their faces forming a human nimbus.
St. Timothy, the Martyr.

“Either way,” Deanna said. “We need to find her.”

“Well, you'll have to find her on your own, then. We're leaving in the morning,” Timothy said. He stepped outside, moving the others back, and shut the door.

“What? The police are letting you leave? Have they closed the case?”

“Evidently they feel Rollie is a good enough suspect and they're letting us go. The crew is over at the fete theater, packing up costumes and sets to carry down to the ferry to Warwick in the morning. We'll all go by train to Manhattan.”

“What about Belle?”

“Hang Belle,” Noreen said. “She's the reason we're in this mess. And she won't even show up to do her part. An acting company is a family. You are loyal to the others and you have to depend on each other in order to be successful.”

“And everyone feels Belle has betrayed them?”

Noreen nodded. “And is letting Rollie take the fall for something he didn't do.”

Deanna was beginning to feel the same way. Belle had seemed truly frightened, but could be in a safe haven by now if she'd only stayed put like she'd promised.

Why had she run? And where was she?

“So I guess this is good-bye, not the way I would have preferred but . . . but I'll be glad to get home to my child. Tell your friend Joseph that it was a pleasure to meet him.”

She smiled slightly, then opened the dressing room door and
went inside. The click of the door closing told Deanna she could expect no more help from Noreen or any of the other actors.

Deanna turned reluctantly away, and right into Elspeth.

“Let's go, miss. Miss Noreen's right. That Deeks girl has done a scarper. She didn't care enough about the others to face the music. I say we let her go.”

Deanna nodded slowly. She didn't want to give up. Her own behavior had been reprehensible. She should have told Will where Belle was hiding the minute she found out.

Then Rollie wouldn't be in jail, deserted by his friends and fellow actors. And it was most likely too late to do anything but accept the responsibility for what had happened.

“Come on, I guess I'd better find Will and confess.” She opened the door to the auditorium and started up the aisle.

Elspeth ran after her. “He won't arrest you, will he?”

Deanna shrugged. “I hope not.” She kept walking. If she didn't stop, she wouldn't be tempted to go to Bonheur and try to forget the whole thing. She didn't slow down until she reached the foyer, then stepped outside to the street.

“Maybe we shouldn't tell him right yet, miss. I mean, how are we even gonna find him?”

“We'll just go down to the station and ask to see him.”

“Do you even know where the police station is? What if he isn't there?”

“Well, Jasper will know, and you know, don't you?”

“You're not going down to that station with all the riffraff and thieves. And that's that.” Elspeth stamped her foot to drive her point home. “You'll create such a scandal. Your mother will be very displeased.”

She'd be more than that, thought Deanna. She'd probably
send Deanna to some kind of sanitarium in Switzerland—and leave her there forever.

“Well, we can't just stand here in the street. That
will
create a scandal. Ugh.”

Elspeth nodded. “I wouldn't mind some lunch, and I'm sure Jasper would agree. We'd best go to Bonheur and let them call over to the station.”

Deanna hesitated. She just wanted to get it over with. And she didn't want everyone at Bonheur to know. “No, I need to do this now.”

“Maybe you could tell Mr. Joe and he could tell the sergeant.”

“Joe will be even angrier than Will. I'd rather face Will.”

“I think we should go ask Mr. Joe what to do . . . even if he does yell at you. At least he might give us some dinner.”

O
rrin had been acting oddly all morning. They'd stopped for lunch and he'd hardly said a word.

Joe asked if he was feeling well. He said he was fine. So they finished lunch and went back to work.

They settled back into the familiar rhythm of inventor and apprentice. Joe giving instructions, or thinking out loud, with Orrin listening and learning and making astute observations.

But as the afternoon wore on, Orrin seemed more distracted than ever, and agitated. They were measuring the angle they would need to add the automatic delivery system to the actual conveyor belt. Orrin was usually excited about new projects, but today he seemed distant.

“Orrin, is something wrong?”

Orrin just frowned, his eyebrows dipping toward his nose.

“Is it because I've been staying nights at Bonheur?” Joe dropped the tape and wrote some calculation in his notebook.
“Are you worried about the equipment? Hiram and the men have been doing a good job of policing the place.”

“No, sir, it's not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Orrin sighed, stretched his neck.

Screwing up his courage
, Joe thought. But for what? God forbid he was about to lose an apprentice.

“It might be none of my business, and you can tell me so, you can even fire me, but my sister takes good care of Miss Deanna and she cares an awful lot about her.”

“Yes. I know. They're very close.” Elspeth had become the friend Deanna should be seeking among her own class, but Joe could understand that. It was like Orrin and Will and him. Especially since he'd decided to devote his life to his machines, he'd found it harder and harder to relate to his own peers.

“Is there a problem between Elspeth and Miss Deanna?”

“No, sir, but Elspeth—and me, too—don't want to see Miss Deanna hurt.”

Joe put down his notebook. Looked at Orrin. What was the man getting at? “Nor does anyone,” he said.

“No, sir.”

“So what is the problem?”

“Well, sir, I'll just come right out and say it.”

“Please do.”

“You ain't playing Miss Deanna false, are you, sir?”

“Playing—? What on earth are you talking about?”

“With that actress person, the one they call Noreen.”

Enlightenment dawned. “No, of course not.” Though the thought had briefly crossed his mind. It's not like he and Deanna were engaged. Or even planning to be. Joseph was not interested in marrying anyone.

Orrin was watching him intently.

“No, Orrin, even though Dee isn't really my girl, I'm not playing her or anyone else false. I'm not carrying on with Noreen. She's an interesting lady, but mainly she is a part of the case that Will”—
and Deanna
—“is involved in. That's why you've seen her here. And you may see her again, but it means nothing. Nothing has, um, occurred.”

“That's all right, then.” Orrin's face lightened, and Joe was looking at the old Orrin. “What do you want to measure next?” he asked, and picked up the end of the tape.

It took Joe a second to get back to normal. Is that what everyone thought?

They worked in silence for the next half hour, only speaking to call out a number or move to a new position. It felt good to be back at work, but even now, Dee was on his mind. He'd left the house before she'd come down this morning. Surely now that his parents were back, his mother would keep her from running off half-cocked.

What was he thinking?
As far as Joe could tell, his mother lived in a permanent state of half-cocked.

Maybe she could at least get Dee to confide the whereabouts of Amabelle Deeks.

He heard footsteps across the warehouse floor and looked up to see Will striding toward him.

Joe grimaced. Whenever Will dropped in unexpectedly, Joe's first reaction was always
What's wrong?
Usually there was nothing amiss, and Will was just stopping by for a friendly visit. Still, Joe could never stop that first visceral reaction.

He put down his tools and went to meet him.

“You on the job or is this a social visit?”

“Neither, actually. As predicted, I was taken off the case. Sort of.”

“Sort of? How can you be taken off a case sort of?”

“Judge Grantham has returned, and he and Edgerton were down at the station. Together they disparaged the department in general and me specifically for not doing more to clear up the murder. Edgerton was demanding that we charge Roland Gibbs and start trial proceedings, though we don't have a whit of evidence against him. The Judge was demanding we ‘Find that girl and bring her to justice.' Lord, they can't even agree as to whom they want charged.

“They both lambasted us for not searching the aunt's house. Threatened to go there themselves.”

“The aunt?”

“A Mrs. Deeks, great-aunt living like a recluse over on Jones Street. We knew about her. We went twice and talked to both the servant girl and to the aunt. The old lady is absolutely potty and swore she wouldn't let the ‘little harlot' in the house; the maid swore there was no one in the house but the two of them.”

“And you believed her?”

“The aunt was adamant, and I know the maid's family. She wouldn't lie to me. So this morning the new team and the captain himself laid siege to the old lady's house, with a warrant written by the Judge, to search the place.”

“And?”

“According to the word on the street, they made a hash of it, found nothing, and frightened the old lady, who has threatened to bring charges against several of the officers.”

Joe laughed. “Typical. Well, since it's out of your hands, pour yourself some coffee; the newspaper's on the table. I just need a few minutes to finish up these measurements.”

“That's where the ‘sort of' comes in.”

“Ah.
Caveat legatus
.”

“In spades. The Judge has asked for me personally to find Amabelle Deeks. Ergo, I'm here playing least in sight. Lord, these cottagers and their demands.”

“I don't suppose there's any way I can help?”

“I could use that cup of coffee if you haven't burnt it to ashes.”

“Can't guarantee that, but you're welcome to it. Then I'll take you for a pint and some dinner.”

“What? It's a little early for you to knock off work, isn't it?”

“Yes, but we're at a good stopping place, and I'll come back later and finish up.”

When Joe came out to the front a few minutes later, Will was sitting at the table, a steaming cup of coffee at his elbow and the newspaper spread out before him.

“Ready?” Joe asked.

Will nodded, folded the newspaper once.

“Leave it,” Joe said. “I'll clean up later.”

“What's your hurry?” Will asked, plunking the paper on the table and picking up his hat.

“I'm hungry and I thought we'd go down to Bonheur. The food's better than the pub, and I just want to make sure Deanna is staying out of trouble.”

“You're not her nursemaid.”

“I'm well aware of that.”

“She'll resent you for it.”

“I'm well aware of that, too.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I'm still undecided. We can discuss it over a whiskey and Cook's excellent food.”

*   *   *

T
he carriage came to a stop in front of Joe's warehouse on Richmond Street. Jasper jumped down and opened the carriage door, but instead of handing Deanna down, he stood, blocking her way.

“Begging your pardon, miss, but I'm not sure the mistress would want you visiting here,” he said.

“Yes, thank you, Jasper, but it's something I must do. You may go back to Bonheur now. I'm sure Mr. Joseph will see us home.”

He didn't move, but looked toward Elspeth as if he expected her to support him.

She didn't.

“Then I'll just make sure Mr. Joseph is in.” He strode over to the door and knocked. Waited, then turned to Deanna. “No one is at home, miss.”

Any other time Deanna would have been tempted to giggle at the idea of Joe “at home” in this derelict building standing among other derelict buildings. But today she was just impatient.

“They're probably working and can't hear you. Please try again.”

He knocked, knocked again, and finally the door opened. Orrin stood frowning out at the coachman.

“Where is your master?”

Orrin frowned more fiercely. “Gone to dinner.”

“Oh good,” Deanna said. “Elspeth and I are starving.” She climbed down from the carriage before Jasper could try to dissuade her. Elspeth climbed down after her.

Deanna smiled at the coachman. “Thank you so much,
Jasper. I'm sure you must be wanting your dinner, too. Will you be so good to tell Carlisle that I won't be back for a while?”

“But, miss,” Orrin began.

“You hush up,” Elspeth told him.

“Thank you, Jasper.”

“Yes, miss.” He climbed up on the box and with a last look at the group standing in the doorway, he clucked to the horse and drove away.

“Well?” Elspeth gave her brother an exasperated look. “Where are your manners?”

Orrin jumped as if someone had goosed him. He stepped back. “But Mr. Joseph ain't here.”

“Isn't,” Elspeth said. “Now will you please go to the pub and tell Mr. Joseph that my mistress is here, and will he please bring her something to eat—and me, too—as we haven't had any lunch or tea.”

“Have you eaten, Orrin?” Deanna asked.

“Yes, miss.”

“So go,” Elspeth said.

Orrin frowned at Elspeth, nodded jerkily to Deanna. “Lock the door and don't open it unless you know it's me or Mr. Joe. There's bad 'uns all around here and men that want to steal what Mr. Joe does, or destroy it—”

“Orrin,” Elspeth said, drawing out his name like Deanna realized she used to do to her own brother, Bob, and suddenly she missed him sorely.

Orrin pulled his leather apron off and hung it on a peg. Took his cap off another peg and left. Elspeth locked the door behind him.

“That sugar man still after Mr. Joseph's inventions?” Elspeth asked, pulling a chair out for Deanna to sit on.

“Yes. He's ruthless, but Joe will prevail. I know he will.”

Elspeth found some tea; managed to put water on to boil after experimenting with the knobs of the Acme oven that Joe had modified over the winter. Deanna picked up the newspaper that was lying on the table and opened it to the society page.

There was mention of the Chepstow party, naming a few of the more well-known dignitaries. Several paragraphs on the Grantham fete, with descriptions of the décor and the women's finery. A column on a baseball game, something Deanna had never been to, and an article that interested her immensely, about the cycling rally taking place in Newport. The regatta was coming from Manhattan, the first boats had already arrived. The season was in full swing.

She heard the teakettle whistle and was dimly aware of Elspeth bringing things to the table. She was beginning to wonder what was taking Orrin so long. The pub was, she imagined, the one catercornered to the warehouse. He should be back by now.

“Elspeth, look out the window and see if you see them coming.”

Elspeth looked out, and Deanna noticed for the first time that the windows were now fitted with iron bars.
Like a jail
, Deanna thought. Was Joe in danger living and working here?

“No, miss, I don't. Oh, there he is.” She went to the door and opened it.

“I told you not to open—”

“I saw you coming. Where's Mr. Joseph?”

“He weren't there. But the landlord gave me some bread and cheese. He placed the package he'd been holding on the table. “Said if you wanted something hot, they got beef and
carrots and potatoes and he'll send a girl over with it, if you want.”

Deanna shook her head. “This will be great. We don't really have time to eat a proper meal. But please thank him for me the next time you see him.”

“Yes, miss.”

Elspeth brought a cracked teapot over and an equally disreputable mug.

“Where else could he have gone?” she asked Orrin.

“I don't know, miss. There's several decent pubs in the neighborhood. Do you want me to check them?”

“Well, how long does he usually stay gone?” Deanna asked as she folded the newspaper and started to hand it to Elspeth.

“Well, he usually doesn't go out until we knock off work, and I go home, so I don't rightly know. But if he goes out in the afternoon he usually comes back within a half hour or so.”

Elspeth arranged the teapot and packet of cheese and bread on the table, found two plates and a large knife. She arranged the plates and reached for the newspaper that Deanna was holding out to her. But Deanna suddenly pulled it back.

“Elspeth, get yourself and Orrin a mug and sit down, both of you. I'm not the Queen. And I think . . .” She unfolded the paper and looked at it.

“What?” asked Elspeth as she hurried to bring two more mugs to the table. She pulled a stool over, sat, and began cutting slices of cheese and bread. “What do you think, miss?”

Orrin stood a little ways off. “I'll have a bit of tea if you please, miss, but I'll stand.”

“But what do you think?” Elspeth asked impatiently.

“I think we better find Belle Deeks before someone else does.”

*   *   *

“G
ood afternoon, Carlisle. Where is everyone?” Joe asked, stepping into the foyer at Bonheur.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ballard and Madame Manon are on the terrace having cocktails.”

“And Miss Deanna?”

“She and her maid are still out.”

Joe's breath hitched. “Shopping?” In his dreams; Deanna didn't really like to shop.