Fallen Women (7 page)

In New York and then in Chicago, Varina had studied the houses and the hostesses, noting what was elegant and tasteful and discarding the ostentatious and the garish, and when the Stantons moved to Denver, she set herself up as one of the city’s society leaders. While John built his financial empire, Varina established a fashionable domestic world. And although she had no intention of setting up a mission as her sister, Marta, had done in New York, Varina nonetheless lent her support to the city’s fledgling charities. The Stantons had no children of their own, and they adored Beret and Lillie. So it was only natural that when Lillie left New York, she went to Denver to live with her aunt and uncle.

As she climbed the wide steps to the front door of the house, Beret wondered what Lillie had told them about the sisters’ estrangement. Surely she would not have told them the truth.

The door opened just as Beret reached it, and the judge himself welcomed his niece, grasping her hands so tightly that he all but squeezed the blood out of them. “Beret. Our dear Beret,” he said, then choked and could not speak for a moment. He took a breath and let go of Beret’s hands and, affecting a lighter tone, said, “I’ve arrived only a moment ahead of you. What a worthless old man I am not to have greeted you earlier. Your aunt, I assume, told you it couldn’t be helped. This Senate appointment is damn complicated business. Everyone involved must be satisfied.” He shook his head, then his face fell. “I can’t say as I mind it so much. It must be done, and we tell ourselves we have to go on. Dear Lillie…” His voice trailed off, and Beret took his arm and let him escort her into the house.

*   *   *

They did not talk about the murder of Lillie Osmundsen at dinner. “The servants,” Varina Stanton muttered when her husband broached the subject. She gave Beret a knowing look. Beret thought the warning unnecessary, because little escaped servants. Still, the three waited until they had retired to the library, which served as the judge’s study, before discussing the tragedy.

“Will you join your aunt in a sherry?” the judge asked, taking a crystal decanter from a cabinet built into the wall.

“No, but I will join you in a brandy,” Beret said.

Her uncle smiled. “I had forgot you like the stronger stuff.”

“I like sherry well enough, but I remember that you have very good brandy.”

The judge nodded his approval, and Beret observed that he looked much older than the last time she had seen him, two years before. She wondered if the changes were recent and had been caused by Lillie’s death. After all, the Stantons had been responsible in a way for Lillie, just as Beret had been. Her uncle’s hair had turned gray, almost silver. There was a sadness about his mouth, and he stooped a little, although he was still an imposing man, a man who looked like a senator. He would be a good one, Beret thought, with affection.

She rose to accept the glass from her uncle, but instead of sitting down again, she went to the fireplace and stared into the fire, at the logs that had burned down, for the fire had been lit in the early evening. Lillie would have stared at the library fire, Beret thought. Lillie had always lit up a room like a bright flame, attracting moths, and now one of them had killed her, extinguishing that light. How could anyone have hated—or loved—her enough to do that?

The wood would have to be replenished if the fire was to continue much longer. Beret was looking at the ashes, as dirty gray as the snow on a New York street, when her uncle said, “I understand you have taken it upon yourself to join the investigation of the murder of your sister.”

Beret turned and glanced at her aunt, who shrugged. “I’ve told him nothing, Beret.”

“No, it was Detective Sergeant McCauley. He visited me in my chambers early this evening, saying he had left you only moments before. That explains why I was so late in arriving home. Detective McCauley said you were intruding and asked me to call you off. It seems he believed you had my support.” John chuckled.

Beret turned to face her uncle. “And what did you tell him?”

“What did
you
tell him?”

Beret sipped the brandy, which was indeed very good. “I told him that you approved of my joining the investigation, were much in favor of it, in fact. I led him to believe my involvement might even have been your idea.”

Varina set down her sherry glass. “Beret, how could you? Your sister’s murder is a horrid, ugly thing. Your uncle and I don’t want you mixed up in it. That’s why we advised you to stay in New York, so you wouldn’t have to know about the last months of her life. Dear Lillie’s death is a tragedy, but it’s best if the whole tawdry business is put behind us. You can’t bring her back.”

“I want to know why Lillie left here to become … a prostitute.” Beret could not bring herself to look at her aunt.

“I can’t talk about it, Beret.” Varina paused a moment. “Think of your uncle’s future.”

John shook his head as if to wave away the objection. “That’s of no consequence here.”

“You have worked so hard for it,” his wife said.

Beret was appalled that her aunt was more concerned about the judge’s ambition than Lillie’s murder and that she would not discuss what had caused Lillie to turn out, as the papers put it. She watched Varina wring her hands and thought that Lillie’s death had been hard on her aunt. Not only had she lost a beloved niece, but the killing had upset the world she had made for herself and her husband. She didn’t deserve the sorrow, nor the notoriety. Perhaps that was why she put social concerns ahead of finding her niece’s killer. But that didn’t make it right. Beret knew that she herself would sacrifice anything to find out who had murdered Lillie. But perhaps that was to assuage her guilt. Should she honor her relatives’ wishes and return to New York, letting the Denver police find Lillie’s killer? No. She would not do such a thing. She wanted to chide her aunt, but before she could find the right words, her uncle interrupted her thoughts.

“Our duty is to Lillie, Varina, and if Beret can help find justice for the poor child, I have no objection to it.” He drank his brandy in a single swallow and poured more into the glass. “I admit I was surprised and not in the least pleased when Detective Sergeant McCauley told me you had interfered”—he turned to Beret—“and, my dear, I very nearly decided to forbid you to continue. But I know how like a mother you were to Lillie. You knew her better than anyone. And I was sure my opposition would have no effect on you. Besides, I believe you might actually help find your sister’s killer.”

“How could she do that?” Varina asked.

“Beret is reasoned and smart, and she knows the underworld as few women of our class do.”

“Then you don’t object?” Beret asked.

The judge shook his head. “Make sure you aid instead of hinder the investigation, but I have complete faith in you.” He paused and added, “I only ask that you be aware of your aunt’s feelings and do nothing to upset her.” He smiled at his wife, who rose.

“Then I shall leave this to the two of you. I am not anxious to hear the particulars of Lillie’s death once again. I have a headache. Don’t be too long, dear. Beret has had a very tiring day,” she told her husband, then embraced her niece, saying she hoped the young woman would rest well. She left the room, and the judge stared at the closed door for a long time.

“This has been very hard on her.”

“And on you, too, Uncle.”

“Yes.” Without asking if she wanted more brandy, the judge refilled Beret’s glass. “Sit down.”

Beret seated herself on a footstool beside her uncle’s chair. “It’s my fault, you know. I ordered Lillie out of the house.” Beret’s voice quivered, and she cleared her throat. She would not allow herself self-pity. She asked in a voice that was barely audible, “Did Lillie tell you about…?”

“Yes. I don’t like the man, never did, to be truthful. Lillie blamed him, of course, and said you had wronged her, that he was at fault. She said the two of you had a row over it, that you refused to believe her to be an innocent, and you forced her out of the house. She had no choice but to come to us.”

“And Aunt Varina?”

“She knows, too. We heard only Lillie’s side of the story, of course, and I have been a judge long enough to know there are always two sides, so I did not believe the entirety of what Lillie said. Perhaps one day you will tell us how you view it. We felt sorry for her, and it was our duty to take her in, although we would have, no matter the situation. You know how we have always felt about the two of you, how we have treated you like daughters in this home.”

Beret nodded. Her uncle had always thought of her happiness. He had supported her after her parents died, when she wanted to stay in New York with Lillie and run the mission, instead of moving to Denver. He had even agreed that Beret should raise Lillie. “She had you and Aunt Varina, at any rate, even if I’d turned against her.” Beret stopped, because her voice was unsteady. She wished with all her heart that she had not forced Lillie to leave.

The judge leaned forward and gripped Beret’s shoulder, until she looked up at him. “You can’t blame yourself. Who wouldn’t have acted the same in your place?”

“But she was my sister!” Beret almost sobbed.

“This is no time for recriminations. Our duty is to find Lillie’s killer.”

There was a knock on the library door, and a few seconds later, William entered the room, his arms filled with logs, and busied himself building up the fire. When he was done, he brushed his hands together and asked, “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, go to bed,” John said, and after the butler left, the judge told Beret, “With all these servants to fetch and carry, I shall die of lethargy. But your aunt likes having them about, so I must put up with them.”

Beret had risen from the stool and seated herself in a chair. Her glass was empty, but she didn’t want more brandy and set it on the table. “Detective Sergeant McCauley gave me the particulars of the murder. Would he have left out anything?” Beret tried to put her feelings aside to concentrate on the investigation.

“We—he, that is, doesn’t know much. You are aware that she was stabbed with her own scissors? The house was empty at the time, except for Lillie and her killer. The detective believes she was murdered by someone in a rage and that he was not a thief, because he failed to take money and other valuables that were in plain sight.”

“But he took Lillie’s diamond earrings. They haven’t been found.”

“So they say. But I think it just as likely that the madam or one of the girls pocketed them.” He paused, considering something. “You’ll excuse me for my indelicacy, Beret, but the coroner believes, after a thorough examination of the body, that she was not raped. At least she didn’t suffer that indignity.”

Beret did not find that consoling but said anyway, “We can be grateful for that.” She looked away and said in a soft voice, “I am told she was pregnant.”

The judge swallowed but said nothing.

“Does Aunt know?”

“She knows, but it is best if you don’t mention it to her. She has had to face enough as it is.”

“Was Lillie tortured?”

The judge shook his head. “Not unless you consider being stabbed eight times by a pair of scissors torture.” He put the back of his hand to his forehead for a few moments. “I would not talk about such things with you, but I know your work at the mission prepares you—”

“Nothing prepares me.” Indeed, Beret had seen women who had been beaten to death by their husbands, children who had been tortured by parents crazed by liquor or drugs, men who had been slaughtered in rage, but nothing had moved her like the death of her own sister.

“No, of course not.”

Beret stared out the window for a moment and was startled to see a shadow pass in front of the glass. “Uncle?”

John looked up. “It’s only Jonas. He’s begun checking the grounds in the evenings since Lillie’s murder. He’s under the impression we might be in danger.”

“Are you?”

The judge smiled. “Not that I’m aware of, but Jonas feels protecting us is his duty.”

“I met him earlier. He seems … odd.”

“He is that. Jonas is a pet of your aunt’s. He was a newsboy. Varina saw some older boys beating him in the street. They’d stolen his money and broken his leg. She took her horsewhip to them.” The judge chuckled. “Your aunt can be a mighty impressive woman when her ire is raised. I believe you take after her in that respect. She got him into her carriage and took him to a hospital, then brought him home and set him up in a room in the carriage house two years ago, not long after your last visit. He’s been with us ever since, and there’s not a thing he wouldn’t do for any of us, especially your aunt. He all but worships her. Sometimes it seems as if he thinks she’s his mother. I believe Lillie’s death hit him hard, and he makes up for it by patrolling the house and garden to keep us safe.”

Beret thought that over. Her aunt might be dedicated to society, but like Beret’s mother, Varina was also compassionate. “The other servants liked Lillie, too?”

“As far as I know.”

“Then why did she leave? What I don’t understand, Uncle, is why she left this house and went to work in a brothel.”

The old man looked into the fire, watching as a log snapped, sending up sparks that lit his face. “Don’t you?”

Beret turned away and closed her eyes, then gave an involuntary shudder. Despite the fire, she suddenly felt cold. “He’s here, then.” It was a statement, not a question.

John did not answer.

“A prostitute the detective talked to said she was seen talking to a dark-complexioned man—twice.” Beret did not mention that she had talked to the prostitute, too. “But even if he was here, that’s no reason for her to leave this house.” Beret thought that over and added, “Unless you asked her to.”

“No, no, of course not. But I believe she must have left because of him.”

Uncle and niece sat lost in thought for a moment. Then Beret asked, “Was there anyone else? Was she seeing someone?”

“A young man. Lillie met him at one of your aunt’s soirees, the son of a friend.”

“Who?”

“His name is Joseph Summers. His father, a stiff-necked old soul, has mining interests. Joey’s a wild sort. I never cared for him, but I didn’t say anything to Lillie. I thought he was her business.”