Unseemly Ambition (34 page)

He could see the back of the man,
hands clasped behind him, nodding politely as an orderly passed him
by. Capshaw couldn’t see enough for recognition. No doubt whoever
it was had been told about his dismissal. Should Capshaw risk
taking the man into his confidence? Would he be
believed?

The man turned his head toward the
stairwell. Capshaw felt weak with relief. Sergeant
Maloney.

Capshaw and Maloney had joined the
force at roughly the same time, and worked together on many cases
over the years. They shared a mutual trust and respect. Chance had
just turned in Capshaw’s favor.

The next time Maloney turned his head,
Capshaw moved, ever so slightly. The perceptive sergeant, hand to
his club, strode over to him.

“
What is your business
here?” he said sharply, then sucked in a breath.
“
Lieutenant?
” he
said in disbelief. He dropped his voice. “What are you doing here,
sir? And why are you—” his gaze swept over Capshaw’s altered
appearance “—looking like
that
?”

Capshaw drew Maloney into the corner
of the stairwell. “I can’t explain. But it’s important I speak to
Miss Hamilton.”

Maloney frowned.

“
I need you to trust me,”
Capshaw urged.

Maloney looked at him for a long
moment, chewing his lip. “I knew there was something wrong wi’ the
chief firing you,” he said.

Capshaw nodded. “I’m not at liberty to
tell you about it right now. I promise I shall when this is all
done. Agreed?”

Maloney smiled. “Now that’s a story
worth waitin’ for, I’m sure. Okay, I’ll check with the lady first
and then let you in, but you daren’t risk more than a few minutes.
Wait here.”

Capshaw watched Maloney return to Miss
Hamilton’s door, tap quietly upon it, and stick his head in her
room. After a moment, he motioned to Capshaw.

Capshaw crossed the corridor quickly
and gave Maloney a grateful look as he closed the door behind
him.

“
Sit down, Lieutenant,”
came a quiet voice. In the dim light Capshaw could see Miss
Hamilton sitting up in bed, looking alert and much better than a
few days before. She gestured toward the chair beside
her.

“
I might not have
recognized you if the sergeant hadn’t told me in advance,” Miss
Hamilton went on. Her gaze swept approvingly over his clean-shaven
face, threadbare clothes and worn shoes. “An excellent
disguise.”

Capshaw quickly filled her in on the
conversation with Chief Stiles, and his decision to go
undercover.

“
You’re taking a big chance
in trusting the man,” Miss Hamilton warned.

Capshaw nodded. “It’s a necessary
risk. He plans to use his connections in the Black Scroll to learn
more about who might be in the Inner Circle…”

“…
while you find
Hitchcock,” Miss Hamilton finished. “Yes, I see. So how do you
proceed now? What do you need from me?”

“
Information,” Capshaw
said. “Who in the area could supply Hitchcock with the necessary
materials he would need to make a bomb?”

Miss Hamilton raised an inquiring
eyebrow.

“
Our best chance of
catching Hitchcock is to learn where he’s getting his materials and
tools. That man could lead us to him,” Capshaw explained. “And, if
Hitchcock has already completed any of the devices, we’re going to
need someone who knows how to deactivate them.”

Miss Hamilton’s expression turned
thoughtful. “Hmm. Yes, that might work.”

“
I know you were looking
into the subject after we found the scrap of dynamite wrapper,”
Capshaw said.

Miss Hamilton sat up straighter, her
face tense with excitement. “Indeed. Pull out your pad, Lieutenant.
I have two names for you.”

Week 13, Instructor
Calendar

May 1898

Charlotte tapped on the door.
“Ready?”

“
Just a moment!” Concordia
called. She glanced once more at the note she’d received by
messenger.

My dear
Concordia,

By the time you get this,
Eli and I will be gone—to visit with a friend down south for an
indefinite period. Aaron is worried for our safety. He has already
lost his position, and says more trouble is to come.

If it had just been me, I
would have stayed to fight. But I have to think of Eli
now.

I wish I could have said
good-bye to you in person.

I know you are recovering
from your injuries, but please help him if you can, Concordia. You
have made a difference in past cases of his. He doesn’t like to
admit it, of course.

But be careful. Our mail
may be monitored, so don’t send anything sensitive by that route.
I’m taking the precaution of having this hand delivered to
you.

I hope this will be
resolved soon.

~Sophia

Concordia continued to stare at the
slip of paper, as if it would speak up and account for itself
further. So Capshaw had been fired, just as he had anticipated.
Didn’t he have recourse to someone higher up in
authority?

But then again, who knew what other
men on the force belonged to the Inner Circle?

Obviously, his movements were being
watched, and as Sophia said, perhaps his communications as
well.

Concordia shivered. She would have to
figure out how to send him word of what she might learn from Lady
Dunwick today. If she learned anything.

The Dunwick home was
situated in the Asylum Hill neighborhood, only blocks from where
Sophia Adams—Sophia
Capshaw
, Concordia amended
silently—grew up. In addition to some of the wealthiest families in
town, this section of the city was an enclave for artists, writers,
and the social philosophers of a generation.

The house was situated on a quieter
side street a block away from the bustle of Farmington Avenue. Like
many houses in the neighborhood, it was constructed in the Queen
Anne style, typified by its spindle work, overhanging eaves, and
Dutch gables.

The maid answered the door promptly
and bobbed a curtsy. “Miss Charlotte, so nice to see you again.”
She glanced at Concordia and said: “Lady Dunwick will be down
shortly. She asked if you would kindly wait in the
parlor?”

Concordia and Charlotte followed her
down the hall. The Dunwick parlor was a pleasant room, quite unlike
the current fashion of parlors as a showcase for as much expensive
furniture and curios as could be crammed in. The French doors had
been opened to catch the light spring breeze that fluttered the
curtains. Hydrangeas spilled over in vases atop tables of deep
cherry, polished to a shine. Charlotte and Concordia settled
themselves in opposite settees and waited.

“
Nice house,” Concordia
commented.

Charlotte nodded. “It was my
grandmother’s. She left it to Aunt Susan. Each daughter was given a
house, actually.” She ticked off the list on her fingers. “Aunt
Lydia got the brownstone in New York City, Aunt Charlotte—that’s
who I’m named after—got the villa in Provence, and Mother got the
cottage on Cape Cod.”

“
Oh,” was all Concordia
could trust herself to say. She was aware of the Crandall family
wealth, but apparently the mother’s side were no paupers, either.
With such a background, it must have been quite difficult for
Charlotte to convince her family that she wanted to work for her
living.

Lady Dunwick walked in at that moment.
“Ah, Charlotte.” She leaned down to bestow a kiss upon her niece’s
cheeks, Charlotte steadying the frail woman.

Lady Dunwick turned to Concordia, who
had stood during the interchange, waving her back to her seat. “Oh,
do sit down, dear. We aren’t quite so stuffy around here. Be
comfortable. I am so glad Charlotte decided to bring you
along.”

Lady Dunwick gave Concordia a closer
glance, noting the scrapes and bruises on her face. She leaned in,
her brow creased in concern. “It appears that you’ve had a
difficult time lately. Can I bring you a stool, to put up your
feet? An extra cushion?”

Concordia flushed and shook her head.
She had removed the last bandage—the one which had covered her
temple—this morning, but there was no hiding the lingering marks.
“No, thank you; I’m fine, really.”

Although Concordia could tell that
Lady Dunwick’s curiosity was aroused, the lady was too well-bred to
ask personal questions. Concordia didn’t offer an explanation. It
would have required a carefully-annotated account, and she frankly
found the prospect exhausting. She glanced at Charlotte, who wasn’t
volunteering any information, either. Good.

“
We’ll be ready to go into
the dining room shortly,” Lady Dunwick said, checking the mantel
clock. “We’re waiting for Anthony and Mr. Isley, who have been
delayed.”

Concordia’s stomach lurched. She and
Charlotte exchanged a worried glance.

“
I didn’t realize there
were more than just the three of us,” Charlotte said.

Lady Dunwick smoothed the folds of her
silk skirt. “Anthony finished a case earlier than planned, so his
afternoon is free. I believe he and Mr. Isley have business matters
to discuss. It made sense to have him join us for lunch first.” She
turned to Concordia. “You don’t mind, I hope?”

“
Of course not,” Concordia
said, hiding her dismay. This was going to complicate things. She
looked again at Charlotte, who was no doubt thinking the same
thing.
Now or never.

“
Aunt Susan,” Charlotte
began, shifting in her seat a little to face Lady Dunwick, “I’ve
been considering your offer of membership in the Daughters of the
Black Scroll. It sounds like a most worthy charity.”

If Lady Dunwick was surprised at such
a bald mention of a secret organization in front of an outsider,
she was too self-controlled to show it. “My dear, perhaps we should
discuss this another time...Miss Wells could not possibly be
interested in such a topic.”

Concordia jumped in. “Black Scroll? My
mother mentioned something about that to me. She said the ladies
have raised crucial funds for worthwhile causes.” It seemed as good
a guess as any.

Lady Dunwick smiled in relief. “Ah,
your mother? Yes, I do believe she has been offered membership—her
commendable work with the Irish orphans, you know—although I don’t
think she’s informed us yet of her decision.”

“
Lately she’s been...busy,”
Concordia said. Visiting a daughter in the hospital can be a
substantial drain upon one’s social calendar.

“
Anyway,” Charlotte
Crandall went on, “I’d be interested in learning more. Are meetings
involved? Social events?”

Lady Dunwick must have determined that
confidentiality wasn’t needed in front of Concordia (bless her
mother for that piece of information), because the lady now sat
back, perfectly at ease. “We meet once per month. Each member
speaks briefly about her current project, and solicits help where
needed. As far as less serious pursuits, we do have a masquerade
ball coming up. It is considered the highlight of the year, in
fact.”

Lady Dunwick paused,
looking around as if to assure herself that no one was nearby to
eavesdrop—a purely involuntary reflex, as the door was closed and
they were seated quite far from it. Nonetheless, the lady leaned in
and dropped her voice. “And the ball is one of the few times that
members of the
Brotherhood
join us. After all, what good is a ball
without
men
? This
will be my first one—I joined recently, you see—and I am looking
forward to it.”

Concordia’s heart beat a
little faster. The ball sounded like a perfect opportunity to
identify members of the Black Scroll, and possibly the Inner
Circle. She might even overhear information of value.
If she could get in.
“It
sounds lovely, Lady Dunwick.” Concordia raised an eyebrow at
Charlotte.

That young lady caught the hint.
“Would I be permitted to attend, Aunt Susan? I’m most interested in
joining your group.”

Lady Dunwick tapped her
chin thoughtfully. “I imagine that would be all right. Technically,
it’s supposed to be only for the members. The invitations were sent
out weeks ago. But I heard that Sadie Walker brought her daughter
last year, and no one batted an eyelash.” She sniffed. “No doubt
trying to find an eligible bachelor—at a masquerade ball, of all
places! But the woman
is
desperate.” She shook her head. “The girl is as
plain as a bowl of milk, with a personality to match, I’m
afraid.”

Charlotte smiled. “Where is it being
held?”

“
At Randolph Maynard’s
country house, in Cottage Grove. We can ride together. It’s an
hour’s drive, but quite scenic. Beautiful orchards, quaint old
dairy farms…many families have built summer homes
there.”

Concordia’s heart thumped faster. So
Maynard was opening his home to the biggest Black Scroll social
function of the year. Maynard had ordered the Inner Circle cuff
links. Maynard had been at the shed, nearly as soon as Concordia
had found poor Mr. Rosen. Was he the murderer?