Unseemly Ambition (13 page)

“
It’s a theory,” Capshaw
said.

“
I’ve read Florence’s
letter to Concordia,” Miss Hamilton said. “Perhaps they feared a
scandal.”

“
But to interfere in the
murder investigation of their own daughter,” Concordia protested,
“that seems horribly cold-hearted.”

“
Indeed,” Miss Hamilton
said.

“
But it is possible that
Eli was kidnapped,” Sophia said, hands clenched.

“
While not
im
possible,” Miss Hamilton
said, “it seems highly unlikely that Florence’s murderer could have
carried a robust eleven-year-old boy down several flights of stairs
and out the door without being noticed.”

“
Unless he’d been knocked
unconscious,” Capshaw said. “But there’s still the issue of the
locked door. Only a key can lock it from the outside; the landlady
had the key, of course, and Florence’s key was in the
room.”

“
That leaves the fire
escape,” Sophia said.

Concordia imagined the difficulty of
someone climbing down with Eli in his arms.

“
If Eli left voluntarily,
without anyone seeing him,” Concordia said, “where would he be now?
In hiding somewhere?”

“
That’s my conjecture,
although we can’t answer the
why
of it,” Miss Hamilton said.

“
Where do we start?” Sophia
asked anxiously.

“
First, I’ll work on
picking up Eli’s trail. I’ll need to learn more about him—favorite
haunts, friends or family elsewhere, and so on.”

“
I can tell you some of
Eli’s background,” Sophia said, “but the person you should really
talk to is Martha Newcombe, who’s in charge of the settlement
house. She and her staff interviewed him thoroughly when they first
made arrangements for him, and have been living with him and
working with him daily. I’ll send a note around, telling her to
expect you.”

Miss Hamilton nodded, then was silent
for a long moment.

“
What is it?” Capshaw
asked.

“
There’s one question I
have to ask,” she said hesitantly, “and I don’t want to offend your
sensibilities—”

Sophia leaned forward. “If it can
bring him back to us, by all means, ask.”

“
Very well. You say that
Florence was planning to take Eli with her, forcing him to leave a
place and people that he had grown attached to. Could the
boy
have killed
her?”

Her question was met with a stunned
silence. Miss Hamilton waited, hands calmly folded in her
lap.

Concordia’s mind was reeling. Eli,
though thin, was tall for his age. Florence had been a petite
woman. If she’d been caught off guard, it was physically possible.
She felt a little queasy.

After a moment, Capshaw broke the
quiet. “No,” he said firmly. “Had Florence been hit over the head,
or smothered in her sleep, then I’d have to concede the
possibility. But the woman was quickly—and expertly—garroted.
Whoever did this has murdered before.”

Concordia breathed a sigh of relief,
even as a chill prickled the base of her neck.

“
Ah.” Miss Hamilton gave
Capshaw a quick look. “Did you inquire about other garroting deaths
in the area over the past few years?”

Capshaw nodded. “I’d only gone back
five years when I was taken off the case, but there were no
incidents that I could find.”

“
Eli has been missing for
nearly two weeks now,” Concordia said. “Surely the trail has grown
cold?”

Miss Hamilton smiled. “I’ll
manage.”

“
You’ll have to be careful
not to alert the police to your investigation,” Capshaw
warned.

“
I’m more than familiar
with that precaution, believe me.” She stood, along with the rest
of them. “This will suffice, for now. I’ll look over your report
more thoroughly this evening, Lieutenant. Please inform Miss
Newcombe that I’ll see her at her earliest convenience in the
morning. Try not to worry,” she added, looking at the white-faced
Sophia. “I’ll find him.”

As they were leaving DeLacey House,
Capshaw came up to Concordia and murmured, “Do you have a
moment?”

“
Of course,” Concordia
answered, checking her watch, “but I have to dress for dinner.” She
looked ruefully at her bicycling outfit.

“
Don’t worry, I won’t keep
you long,” Capshaw assured her. He glanced over at his
wife.

Sophia took the hint. “I wanted to say
hello to Hannah Jenkins, anyway. Do you know where she’d
be?”

Concordia thought for a moment. “This
time of day? I’d try the gymnasium, cleaning up the
equipment.”

With a wave, Sophia headed down the
path.

“
What is it, Lieutenant?”
Concordia asked, as they walked to the cottage.

“
I’d like you to accompany
me while I question Ruby about this mystery man who asked for her,”
he said. “I stopped by a few days ago, but she was too busy to
talk. Policemen make some people nervous. Perhaps your presence
would reassure her.”

“
She’ll likely be rounding
up the girls to get them ready for dinner, but she should have a
few minutes free.”

Once inside Willow Cottage, Concordia
removed her jacket and gloves. “Why don’t you take a seat in the
parlor. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

A senior walked past. “Hello, Miss
Wells. Oh, Lieutenant Capshaw, hello!” she exclaimed, no doubt
recognizing him from his visits last year. “What are you doing
here?”

“
Never mind,” Concordia
scolded. Really, these girls had barnyard manners. “Have you seen
Ruby?”

The girl nodded. “Does he want to see
her?” she breathed excitedly. “Ooh, I’ll get her.” She strode down
the hall, calling: “Ruby! A policeman to see you!”

Concordia rolled her eyes at the
flagrant lapse in decorum. Ruby would no doubt give the young lady
a talking-to that would make her ears burn. She sat across from
Capshaw to wait.

The girl returned after a few minutes.
“I could have sworn she was in the kitchen, right before you came
in,” she said. “But I can’t find her anywhere. She must have
stepped out.”

Capshaw stood with a sigh. “I’ll come
back tomorrow.”

Concordia nodded. “Right after
breakfast is the best time. Nine o’clock?”

Capshaw nodded and left.

Concordia checked the
mantel clock.
Drat!
She would have to hurry now.

After she was dressed and had hustled
the girls out the door, they found Ruby, alone, heading back from
the dining hall.

“
Ruby! We’d wondered where
you’d gotten to,” Concordia said.

Ruby made a face and juggled a
cloth-wrapped bowl in her hands. “I was gettin’ some broth for Miss
Portnoy, who’s feeling poorly. We were all out.”

Concordia frowned. “You should have
sent one of the students to fetch it.”

Ruby shrugged.

“
Oh, before I forget, you
missed Lieutenant Capshaw just now.”

“
You don’t say?” Ruby
exclaimed. She turned to look at the girls milling around,
listening. “Well, I’d better let you get ’em to their suppers. I’ll
be there in a little while.”

‘
twas strange, ’twas passing
strange,
‘Twas pitiful, ’twas wondrous pitiful.

Othello
, I.iii

Week 7, Instructor Calendar

March 1898

Concordia’s thoughts were most
definitely elsewhere when she nearly bumped into the bursar on the
path to Founder’s Hall. “Oh! I beg your pardon, Mr.
Isley.”

The man smiled and tipped his hat. “No
harm done.”

They fell into step together, or at
least as much as Concordia could manage. The bursar, though shorter
than most men, walked with a brisk, powerful stride. She struggled
to keep up with him.

“
It was most kind of Mrs.
Isley to invite me to your dinner function this week,” Concordia
said politely, huffing a little to catch her breath.

Isley gave her an apologetic glance
and slowed his pace. “We are happy to have you, dear. Lily tells me
that your young man will be joining us as well?”

Your young man.
Concordia suppressed a grimace. “Yes.”

“
Excellent. Be sure to tell
him that our guest of honor will be Mr. Sanders, the Republican
candidate for the state senate seat. The conversations are sure to
be stimulating.”

Concordia wasn’t so sure
that
stimulating
was quite the word she would have used, but she kept that
opinion to herself. “I understand your wife is just as involved in
the campaign as you are,” Concordia said. “Quite
commendable.”
And unusual,
she added silently.

Isley nodded. “Alas, with no children
to keep her occupied in the home, Lily involves herself in several
charitable projects. But her involvement in politics came about
when I made an early bid for the Republican seat—the ticket that
Mr. Sanders is now running on. She was indispensable. In fact, Lily
was most disappointed when I withdrew my name.”

“
Why did you withdraw?”
Concordia asked.

“
Both Langdon and Maynard
made direct appeals to me to step in as bursar, given the school’s
financial straits at the time.”

“
We are certainly grateful
that you did,” Concordia said.

Isley inclined his head in
acknowledgment. “Now that the school’s situation has vastly
improved, I may consider a run in the next election.” He
sighed.

Concordia heard a tinge of regret in
that sigh. It would be two more years before the next campaign, and
who knew what could happen in the meanwhile? If Sanders won the
seat this time and had a successful term of office, Isley would not
have much of a chance against him later.

“
But you decided to throw
in your support for Mr. Sanders?” she asked politely.

“
Well, we certainly were
not going to support the
Democrats
.” Isley snorted in derision.
“Sanders is far better than that scapegrace, Samuel Quint, who
looks to win the Democratic primary next month. A pro-Silver man.
It’s as plain as the nose on one’s face that bi-metallism caused
the run on gold in the Panic of ‘93, along with an assortment of
ills. We’ve barely climbed out of that hole.”

“
Ah,” was all Concordia
could trust herself to say. The current economic issues held little
appeal for her. If she were to pay attention to politics at all, it
would be those of her favorite authors, many of them dead for more
than a hundred years.

They parted ways in the hall.
Concordia was about to turn toward the stairwell to continue up to
her third-floor office when she noticed the bursar hesitating at
his door.

“
Something wrong, Mr.
Isley?” She walked over to see. Isley was fingering his key ring
and wearing a puzzled look. He glanced at the floor.

“
My key isn’t on the
ring.”

Concordia surveyed the floor, but
didn’t see a dropped key. “Perhaps you should have Mr. Drew let you
in for the time being.” She gestured to the custodian, rummaging in
the broom closet nearby.

Soon Mr. Drew had the key turned in
the lock, and Isley impatiently flung open the door.

He, Concordia, and the custodian
stared, their mouths hanging open.

“
Saints preserve us!” the
custodian whispered, eyes wide.

President Langdon’s buggy took up the
entirety of Isley’s office.

Concordia rubbed her eyes and looked
again, certain that it was some mad vision that would go away in a
moment of clarity.

But no—the buggy was here to stay. The
other furniture in Isley’s room had been pushed against the walls,
and the president’s shiny new buggy—his hard-won pride and
joy—stood in the middle of the bursar’s office. Completely
intact.

“
How? Wh-what? Why?” Isley
sputtered.

All good questions, in Concordia’s
mind. There was no elevator in the building, and the doorway of
Isley’s office was much too narrow to accommodate the conveyance.
As they squeezed into the room for a better look, she ran a hand
over the door and bent down to look underneath. Not a bolt or a
screw loose.

From its roof to its wheels and
everything in between, the buggy had to have been disassembled in
the coach house, its parts carried up the stairs and into the
bursar’s office—after swiping Isley’s key, no doubt—and reassembled
in his office. Quite a feat, and all done without getting
caught.

“
Who would do this?” Isley
demanded of no one in particular. He turned to the custodian. “Get
President Langdon—quickly.” Mr. Drew scurried off.

A laugh threatened to
bubble out of Concordia as she grasped the absurdity of the
situation. The vehicle was perfectly intact and undamaged, but
someone now had to
get it out of
here
, a problem dumped neatly into Isley’s
lap by the pranksters.