The Mastermind Plot (2 page)

“No, no,” he finally said. He tugged his hat back on. “I am delighted, Suzanna, to have you here with us.”

His fiery eyes and sour grimace couldn't hide anything. Uncle Bruce was livid. And he wasn't delighted to have me here at all.

A
YOUNG WOMAN WITH HARDLY ANY CHIN
closed the frosted-glass door behind us and helped me out of my traveling cloak. I stood rigid, not used to being the object of a servant's attention. She turned me out of my cloak and freed me of my gloves in a blur of motion, and then moved on to help Nellie. I was left a bit dazed from such efficiency, but followed my grandmother as she glided into a sitting room.

I stepped inside and abruptly stopped, stunned. The walls, papered in a busy floral design, were covered from base to ceiling with plates, mirrors, silhouettes, paintings, and sketches. A massive grandfather clock filled a corner; a glassed-in curio cabinet displayed trinkets and more ceramics; tables seemed to be everywhere, forming a maze of sorts; long, heavy drapes
brushed the floors, which were covered in Oriental rugs; and sconces, dripping with sparkling crystal beads, were mounted on each wall.

Never before had I seen a room like it. Not even at the Rosemount, where antlers and snowshoes and bear-skins draped the walls of the Great Hall. Grandmother's parlor made my head spin with all of its …
clutter
.

She seated herself in a lavender-colored chair, the velvet upholstery so plush I feared she might disappear right into it.

“Do sit, dear,” she said to me. I picked a more solid-looking chair near a writing desk. She frowned at my choice.

Uncle Bruce came inside the parlor, another false smile fixed on his lips. “Mother, you were quite silent about this invitation to my niece.”

He'd done that back in Loch Harbor, too — speaking about me as though I wasn't right there in the room with him.

Nellie came into the parlor looking a bit flustered from the servant girl's lightning-quick hands. Uncle Bruce's silent companion followed.

“Bruce, dear, it's been far too long since I've seen my granddaughter. Besides, the papers were all raving about Suzanna's heroics regarding that little missing girl. I found myself quite jealous that the reporters
seemed to know her better than I did! It was utterly unacceptable.”

She glanced at me. Her eyes were so like my father's. I felt a deep tug in my stomach. Homesickness. I'd promised myself I wouldn't be homesick, and shoved it down.

“Darling, how was your trip? Miss Bridges, was it terribly uncomfortable?”

It took me a second to understand that she was addressing Nellie. No one back home ever used her last name. She was the only Nellie in Loch Harbor.

“No more uncomfortable than standing on my feet all day in a hot kitchen,” Nellie replied as she perched herself on the edge of a curvy sofa. She'd never been one to mince words. I drew up my shoulders and looked nervously to my grandmother for her reaction. She had on a sympathetic pout.

“Of course not. Benjamin writes so highly of your abilities. He and Cecilia must think of you superiorly to trust you with the care of their daughter.”

Nellie weighed my grandmother's compliment with plain skepticism. After an awkward moment, she said, “Well, the feelings are mutual. I think the world of Mr. and Mrs. Snow.”

I waited for Nellie to say something kind about me but knew it was in vain.

Grandmother then turned toward my uncle. “Now, Bruce, you don't usually pay me visits on Tuesday afternoons. To what do I owe this pleasure? And good afternoon to you, Detective Grogan.”

She cleared her throat, clearly wanting Uncle Bruce to introduce Detective Grogan to me. The title
detective
intrigued me and I immediately set about inspecting him. He was tall, like my uncle, but not as robust. His frame was more streamlined and wiry, like his eyeglasses.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Snow.” His voice did not match him at all. It was a raspy, deep tenor, nearly as burly as Uncle Bruce's. I must have startled with surprise, because he glanced my way.

“And to you as well, Miss Snow. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Detective Neil Grogan.” He dipped into a gentlemanly bow. On rising to his full height again, he added, “I was sorry to miss the investigation in Loch Harbor. I'm told you did a dandy of a job finding that young girl.”

He tipped his head toward me in a sign of respect. I beamed with surprise.

“Thank you, it's nice to meet you —”

Uncle Bruce cleared his throat to drown me out. “Yes, well, Neil, I was sorry to have gone to my brother's hotel without you. I had young Will with me, of
course, but the boy left me wanting for someone with more extensive field experience.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from arguing. Will, my cousin and Uncle Bruce's apprentice over the summer, had been more than helpful. Will and I, not Uncle Bruce, had found little Maddie Cook. From the corner of my vision, I thought I saw Grandmother roll her eyes. But when I looked again, she was sitting primly and smiling at Uncle Bruce.

“And so why have you ambled up to Lawton Square this afternoon, Bruce?” she asked, redirecting her point.

“It's nothing, Mother. It can wait until after you've helped Suzanna settle in.”

He took a sidelong glance at me. It hit like a blast of hot steam from the train.

Detective Grogan stepped forward. “I might have discovered some similarities between the Horne fires and an older case, one that Bruce worked on when he was a rookie. He said you might still have some of his things from those days. Notebooks and such.”

I stared at my uncle. Notebooks? Notebooks like mine? Uncle Bruce directed his eyes toward the ceiling, avoiding my glance.

Grandmother leaned forward. “An older case? Well, I don't know…. I might still have a few boxes of his
things in the basement.” She pinched her lips together, inspected my uncle, and no doubt saw his cross expression. “But I most likely don't, Detective Grogan. And my son is right — I really must attend to my granddaughter at the moment. Perhaps Bruce could come back and have a look around himself?”

The Horne fires. An older case. Notebooks filled with observations and clues. My interest was officially hooked. I watched as Uncle Bruce's stiff shoulders loosened.

“Excellent idea, Mother. We'll be off.” He went to his mother's chair and delivered a hasty peck to her cheek.

Uncle Bruce swept out into the foyer. Detective Grogan, looking somewhat crestfallen at not being able to search for those old notebooks, at least had the decency to give another short bow to Nellie and me before leaving.

Something in the way Detective Grogan had held himself apart from Uncle Bruce, and especially in the way he'd complimented me, gave me the notion that he had been trying to twist a thorn in his partner's side. I immediately approved of him.

Nellie sighed to break up the new silence. In any other company, she would have made a comment about Uncle Bruce's poor behavior. But she kept her thin lips sealed, with only a sharp glance at Grandmother.

“Please don't mind Bruce. He has always found it difficult to give credit where credit is due.” Grandmother winked at me. “I spoke with Will just after he and Bruce arrived home in July, and he told me everything you did, Suzanna. And then the papers were all raving about you. I can't tell you how proud I was to hear of it all.”

The serving girl had come into the parlor with tea. She handed me a full cup. I was so excited to hear Will's name that I nearly spilled it.

“He did? How is he? Will I see him?”

Grandmother chuckled over my eagerness to see my cousin.

“I'm sure you will, and very soon. But I first plan to be very selfish — I want you all to myself, my dear. It's been years since I've seen you.”

At least five, I calculated, vaguely remembering her last visit. I also had fuzzy memories of my grandfather, though he'd passed away a year or two after their last trip to Loch Harbor. My father had gone to Boston for the funeral, alone, my mother explaining that the train ride was long and that funerals were often too sad for children. Grandmother had continued to send me cards and presents at my birthdays and holidays, but she didn't like traveling alone. And my parents didn't like traveling
at all
.

Grandmother continued, “I'm sorry your uncle seemed exasperated by your arrival. I'm afraid he has been under an enormous amount of pressure lately.”

I took a scalding sip of tea and burned off half of my taste buds.

“What are the Horne fires?” I asked. I patted my skirt for my notebook but remembered it was in my cloak pocket. I'd have to memorize Grandmother's answer instead.

“Just some local troubles, dear. A few warehouses owned by a Boston businessman have gone up in flames. Bruce seems to be having an uncommonly hard time with the investigation.” Grandmother took up her tea after stirring in a cube of sugar. “But we'll have no unpleasant talk this afternoon.”

It wouldn't have been unpleasant talk for me. But I supposed Grandmother was a lady, and most ladies would have thought arson a rude subject. Grandmother rose up from her seat and abandoned her tea. She crossed the room toward me, and in a sudden gesture of enthusiasm, took my cheeks into her warm hands. Her eyes danced with delight.

“How splendid this autumn is going to be with you here, Zanna!”

I blinked a few times, surprised she was already using my nickname.

“That is what your friends call you, is it not?” she asked. “Will told me you prefer it.”

I nodded, again looking forward to seeing Will. Grandmother let go of my cheeks and stepped back, her gaze turning serious.

“We must settle you into your room before the seamstress arrives to fit you for an academy uniform. Come, come.”

She started for the foyer. I set my full cup down, splashing some steaming tea onto the saucer.

“Academy?” My parents had said I'd most likely have a tutor for the few months I'd be in Boston.

Grandmother's extreme hourglass figure twisted as she looked back at me. “I've decided to enroll you in the best academy in all of Boston, and it just so happens to be right here, in Lawton Square. Your education will not be neglected under
my
watchful eye.” Grandmother smiled, obviously pleased with herself.

Nellie made an approving noise from her seat on the sofa. “And hopefully it will hold the girl's interest better than the school in Loch Harbor did.”

I couldn't help it if school was a bore. Given the choice between learning arithmetic and learning how to handcuff a criminal, I'd choose handcuffs every time.

Grandmother straightened the tapered sleeves of her frilly dress. “Oh, it most certainly will interest
her. Miss Doucette has the finest reputation here in the city.”

My pulse streamed out an extra few beats. “Miss Doucette?”

Maddie Cook had once bragged about attending a marvelous academy and
Doucette
rang a bell.

“Yes. You'll be starting first thing on Monday at Miss Lydia Doucette's Academy for Young Ladies.”