Midnight Harvest (43 page)

In spite of what has happened to me, I did not actually think I could be in any danger this far from Spain, but I see now that this is wishful thinking on my part, and that the precautions you urged upon me are not only appropriate but necessary. I am doing my best to follow your recommendations, however belatedly. It is also apparent that the danger extends to Mr. Sunbury and to all the members of your London household. Therefore I am asking you to help to the extent that you will engage more security than you have already, not only for us, but for you yourself.

Mr. Sunbury has told me a little of what the criminal did to him, and what he wanted to know, which Mr. Sunbury believes he was able to conceal to some degree. He tells me that he revealed that you went to America, and have the advice of several attorneys in that country, but he did his best to convince the man that you began your stay in New York, and intend to return there. He isn’t certain how much more he was able to keep to himself, since he was no longer wholly cognizant of his speech. He said the man intended to cause him extreme pain without doing him irreparable harm.

Still, one of his knees has been destroyed, and his foot has been broken—three of the bones were shattered, and the physicians believe he will never again walk without a cane. In addition to this, three of his fingers were utterly ruined and his shoulder was dislocated and his earlobe was cut off. I understand you have authorized your London bank to pay for all his medical expenses, for which I cannot help but feel you have shown the same honor that has marked your conduct at all times. I know that Mr. Sunbury is grateful to you for all you have done, and so am I, for I have developed a fondness for Mr. Sunbury. It is not likely that it will go beyond fondness; I am still a married woman, although Ponce isn’t one to remember that minor detail Mr. Sunbury is the sort of man who will not cross the line, which is one of the things about him that I admire. This does not redound to your discredit for you did nothing that could compromise me.

Which brings me to another matter: Ponce and, by extension, I have been declared enemies of the state, and convicted in absentia of treason. Our bank accounts have been seized, and the money confiscated by Spain. Luckily, this does not compromise me, thanks to your cleverness in moving my funds out of the country shortly before I left Ponce, on the other hand, is not so fortunate as I, and he has lost more than half his fortune. What this will mean to him in his present dealings, I cannot guess, nor do I want to. But I know that unless I am legally compelled to do so, I will not part with one shilling to relieve him of any impecuniousness he may experience. I am not a vindictive woman, but he left me to fend for myself when he went to the Argentine, and now I will see that the same is done to him.

I know you will understand my decision in this regard, and whether you agree or not, you will not hold it against me that I will not extend myself on my husband’s behalf. It is hard enough to be left as alone as a widow but with none of the possibilities a widow can have. To support the man who deserts me is intolerable, and I will do all in my power to insure this does not happen. Fortunately, Mr. Sunbury has promised one of his colleagues will be my advocate if it comes to that; he is confident that the greatest part of my money can be preserved with a modicum of forethought. I am grateful to be in his hands.

Shortly before he was so badly injured, Mr. Sunbury purchased for me a pair of lurchers, litter-mates, males, very well-trained and sweet-tempered. I am thrilled to have these dogs as companions, not simply because they assuage my loneliness, but because they are so protective and willing to serve as watchdogs as well as pets. The guards tell me that they are excellent creatures, inclining to patrol and to give the alarm at any questionable sound or presence. They are affectionate with me, and, once familiar with my friends, gentle as lambs with them, although they can be fierce with strangers. Considering all that has happened, I can only thank Mr. Sunbury for his concern. Contemplating what has happened to him, I find great comfort in having these dogs to keep me safe.

I hope you do not encounter this man who is searching for you. He is a most sinister and ruthless person, one who will do anything to achieve his ends. If you have any question about your safety, then let me urge you to go where you will be safe. Do not hesitate to take any measures you deem necessary in order to preserve yourself from him, for it is Mr. Sunbury’s conviction that this man means to kill you, and, given how seriously Mr. Sunbury was injured, I have no doubt that he is more than capable of completing his mission.

This comes to you with my deep distress. Do not answer me directly, for it may be that I am under surveillance, and that any communication from you may lead this assassin or his accomplices to you. After all you have done to save me, it would be inexcusable of me to do anything that might bring you into danger. I will hope that you can receive mail from me through Mr. King, and to that end, I will write to you again by the end of the year, unless I have reason to believe that such correspondence is hazardous.

I hope in many ways that this finds you well and safe, and that you never have to encounter the man who tortured Mr. Sunbury.

With all my devotion,

Isis

chapter eight

“I’m sorry I’m late,” said Dorothy McAllister as she came into the restaurant, an elegant, Viennese-style establishment with velvet-upholstered furniture, flocked wallpaper, and crystal chandeliers. It was not far from the offices of Horner Bishop Beatie Wentworth & Culpepper, walking distance from the Commodities Exchange; smiling apologetically, Miss McAllister left her raincoat and hat at the hatcheck booth and joined her companion for the evening at a table in an alcove booth far from the front door.” There were three letters I had to type over. I promised Mr. Bishop I’d finish them before I left.”

“You didn’t make any mistakes, surely? I can’t believe you’d be careless,” Cenere said solicitously as he rose to greet her. He favored her with a smooth smile and a courteous squeeze of her hand, but nothing more forward—that was for later, when he had her where he wanted her. “What did he require of you, your Mr. Bishop?”

“Oh, nothing to speak of. Nothing unusual: Mr. Bishop wanted to add explanations to the letters, and that meant typing them over.” She was flushed and a bit breathless, but only a little because of the furious weather that slammed sleet along Chicago’s streets and snarled traffic from one end of the city to another.

“Isn’t that the way with lawyers, always lost in details,” he said, shaking his head as he waited for her to slide into the booth before he sat down again, the very model of European good manners. He studied her face. “You’re looking very fine tonight, Dorothy.”

“Am I?” She put her hand to her throat, to her string of fairly good pearls that was her one bequest from her mother.

“You are,” said Cenere in a manner that suggested warmth.

“It must be the company—I can’t think of any other reason,” she said archly, daring to look directly at him.

“You’re being kind to me,” he said with a slight smile, which revealed small, shiny teeth.

“Hardly,” she said in a burst of candor. “Kindness has been in short supply these last few years.”

He studied her face. “Has it been a difficult time for you? The Depression must make attending to the law especially taxing.”

“No more so than Prohibition did, particularly here in Chicago,” said Dorothy McAllister. “I went to work for Mr. Bishop back in those lawless days, in ’27, to be precise. This time is sad, those times were dangerous.”

“Danger can be more exciting,” said Cenere, knowing how much the financial collapse of Germany following the Great War had spread trouble all through Europe.

“Danger breeds recklessness; this hardship breeds desperation,” she said. “Both make their own demands on the law and the courts.”

“Mr. Bishop is lucky to have you, if you’d like my opinion in the matter,” said Cenere, aware that he would be foolish to underestimate her, at least while she was getting used to being in his company. “From what I could see, you’re the very heart of his office.”

“You’re biased,” she said with a suggestion of wary flirtatiousness.

“Biased doesn’t mean wrong,” said Cenere gallantly. “May I order a drink for you? They have good bourbon here, and real Scotch whiskey. Or would you prefer a mixed drink? Something elegant. What about a Sidecar, just to take the edge off?” He signaled a waiter.

“I don’t usually drink spirits, but this is a special occasion.” She beamed at him. “A Sidecar would be very nice.”

“Good,” said Cenere. “A Sidecar for the lady and some of your excellent Kentucky bourbon for me—no ice.” He motioned the waiter away. “I’m glad you changed your mind and agreed to come out with me. I know the invitation was on short notice, and you’ve had to shift your schedule to accommodate me; it’s very nice of you.” Leaning across the table enough to speak very softly, he added, “I’ve been waiting for this opportunity all day.”

Dorothy McAllister was a bit flustered. “I don’t know what to say. You take me aback—not unpleasantly.” This was more difficult than she had thought it would be. She had not been out alone with a man in more than six years—that had been with a visiting attorney from Minneapolis and had turned out to be a disastrous evening—and the experience now was a heady combination of exhilaration and jumpy nerves. She fiddled with the cuff of her suit-sleeve, wishing she knew how to behave in this situation. “I’m very glad you asked me to have dinner with you.”

“I wanted to speak with you alone, away from the office. What kind of a gentleman asks a lady out without offering her something more than his company?” He reached for his cigarette case and removed one of the cigarettes, offering it to her; when she accepted, he handed it to her and selected a second for himself. As he lit them, he smiled into her eyes. “I know this is going to be a very special evening.”

“Oh,” she breathed, and did her best not to cough on the first inhale of smoke.

He sat back. “You know, I had resigned myself to this journey as a duty, nothing more, something that had to be done but not enjoyed. I was prepared to accomplish the tasks I have been sent to perform, to be pragmatic about my assignment. But I knew when I met you the day before yesterday, that I had been wrong to assume that there would be no aspect of this country that could engage me.”

She put her hand to her throat. “You are too kind, Mr. Cenere.” She pronounced the name properly—CHEHnehray—not SenEER as the receptionist at Horner Bishop Beatie Wentworth & Culpepper had.

“I would like to be more than that,” he said boldly, looking directly through the wraiths of smoke into her eyes.

“Mr. Cenere,” she said in mild rebuke to hide her sudden rush of panic. “You may find such extravagances succeed with European women, but it is not what I am accustomed to.” She could not bring herself to admit how much she liked his extravagant attention; she sat a bit straighter.

“Of course not,” he said at once, accepting her reprimand without anything more than a shift in his gaze. “I didn’t intend any disrespect. I’m not wholly familiar with American manners, and if I have erred, it is because that after the Great War, things in Europe have changed a great deal, and are changing still.”

This was much safer ground to be on, and she used it to shift the subject away from her. “I have heard that the fighting in Spain is getting worse,” she ventured, tapping her cigarette ash into the crystal ashtray next to the table candle.

“It’s very bad,” he confirmed. “And the worst isn’t over yet. In fact, I suspect the worst hasn’t yet begun.” He looked up as the waiter arrived with their drinks; he rested his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray.

“It must be dreadful. I can’t imagine what the last decade has been like. Europe seems to go from one crisis to another, as if the Great War settled nothing.” Her voice dropped. “My fiancé was killed in the Great War, like so many others. I read his letters from the Front, and they sounded so disheartening. I think it must have been terrible to fight in that war.” She blinked as if to stop unshed tears; then she put out her cigarette and reached out for the glass that had been set down in front of her.

“War has always been terrible, and it becomes more so with every passing decade as the weapons become more lethal,” he said. “But enough of such hideous things.” He looked directly into her eyes and lifted his drink. “To unexpected meetings.”

She touched the rim of his glass with hers. “To unexpected meetings,” she seconded, and drank, feeling the cold heat of the Sidecar percolate through her.

He took a small sip of bourbon and set his glass down. “Still, I’m sorry to hear about your fiancé. It’s very sad, how many valiant young men were lost in that war.”

“I wasn’t the only girl to lose a sweetheart,” she allowed, drinking more of her Sidecar.

“No. Many women became widows much too early,” said Cenere. “Enough of these gloomy thoughts. The War is long over and it cannot be changed or undone. I don’t want to dwell on what is past, but to contemplate that which is to come.”

Miss McAllister touched the corner of her eye, afraid she might be weeping, feeling embarrassed by the possibility. “I don’t know what came over me. I haven’t spoken of George Eastman for … it must be three years now. I beg your pardon.”

“I’m pleased to have your confidence, Dorothy,” said Cenere. “I hope I can help assuage your grief.” He picked up his glass, and had another minuscule sip. “I know such wounds take many years to heal.”

“I resigned myself to his loss fifteen years ago,” she said.

“Still, a difficult burden for any woman to shoulder.” He made his smile a commiserating one. “You have made something of your life, and that is to your credit.”

“Please don’t say anything more on this, Mr. Cenere. I’m a bit nervous as it is,” Miss McAllister said as she took another drink; she began to feel a bit steadier. She managed a smile. “I hope you don’t mind.”