Ask Me No Questions Read online

  He smiled somewhat bitterly, and Phil added outrage to her indignation. She should be used to how wielded power worked. Among society it could be brutal and often was, but somehow to see the same type of power in play when justice and lives were involved, and even if this time it might work to Bev’s advantage … Well, it just didn’t seem right.

  “I am only one small part of the police. They’ve decided to concentrate on searching for the driver of the automobile.”

  “He still hasn’t appeared?”

  “Not only has he not appeared, no one seems to know who he is. Do you, Mrs. Reynolds?”

  “What? No. We didn’t have a usual driver, just a coachman, and he never learned to drive. Reggie always drove unless we were going someplace formal. Or the weather was inclement. I don’t know where Reggie found drivers. I suppose from the garage or one of the stable boys.”

  “Then for the time being our driver must remain a mystery man,” Atkins said.

  Mystery man? It seemed their life was suddenly replete with mystery men. Well, at least the driver’s absence would take their attention from the only suspect left, Bev.

  “Then can I have the touring car back?” Bev broke in.

  Oh, Bev. Why did she have to mention the bloody touring car?

  “I’ll have someone bring it around.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a packet wrapped in brown paper. I’ve been authorized to return Mr. Reynolds’s personal effects. A few dollars, a money clip, a watch, cuff lengths, handkerchief. Here is an official list of his possessions. Please check to make sure you receive them all. There was also a suitcase, which is now in possession of your butler.

  “I thought you would not want the clothes he was wearing, but they can be sent if you so desire.”

  “Good God, no,” Bev said, taking the packet.

  “You will notice we have had to keep two pieces of evidence that are on the list. His passport and two steamer tickets to Buenos Aires.”

  Phil heard Bev’s sudden intake of breath. Though it was hard to think Bev could be surprised by anything her often errant and now blissfully out-of-her-life husband might do.

  And she didn’t miss the barely perceptible look of satisfaction in the detective’s eyes.

  “I take it you and Mr. Reynolds weren’t planning a trip abroad?”

  Bev looked at Phil. She might not be surprised by Reggie’s antics, but she still smarted under the humiliation. And who could blame her?

  Phil narrowed her eyes in warning. Stay calm.

  And she saw the moment Bev gave up all pretense.

  “No, we were not.”

  “So we might surmise—”

  “You can surmise what you like, Detective Atkins. Everyone else will.”

  Phil leaned forward. “Why would he leave the week before his big race?”

  “That is a question I’ve been asking myself.” Atkins shifted in his seat, frowned. “I don’t suppose you have any theories?” He lifted one hip and reached under the cushion.

  Phil popped off the settee. “No, I don’t. Neither of us does. Will that be all, Detective Inspec—Sergeant?”

  The detective pulled out the book she’d so hastily hidden.

  Phil sat back down.

  He took his time reading the cover, then opened it. Closed it again. Placed it on the table on top of the French pornography.

  Phil had the good sense to blush. Not that she could have stopped the wash of heat up her neck and face if she’d wanted to. The French pornography didn’t bother her, but being found out studying something clearly none of her business did.

  “Interesting reading material,” he said to Phil.

  “I have eclectic tastes.” Heavens, that didn’t sound right. “One never knows.”

  “Evidently not,” he said, and stood. “Good day, ladies. You should have your auto back today.”

  “And the keys to the library?”

  Phil was going to strangle Bev before this investigation was finished. “The dust, Detective Sergeant. The parlor maids are complaining.”

  “I can’t say. Sergeant Becker is now overseeing the case. He’ll no doubt return them to you when he sees fit.” He bowed to both, and without waiting for Tuttle he headed for the door.

  He stopped as he reached it. “Oh, by the way, Mrs. Reynolds. Who inherits Mr. Reynolds’s estate?”

  “I do, naturally.”

  “I see. Thank you.” Another nod. And he was gone.

  “I’ll see him out,” Phil told Bev and rushed after him.

  “Is the investigation over for Mrs. Reynolds?” she asked as they reached the door.

  “Not at all.” He tilted his head, looked her square in the eye. “I think we are both people of the world, Lady Dunbridge.”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t know what you’re playing at.”

  “I assure you, I’m not playing. But I do like to keep myself informed.”

  “My hands have been somewhat tied. I don’t know if that’s your doing, or someone else’s. Charlie Becker is a dangerous man. He’ll think no more of throwing Mrs. Reynolds—or you—in jail if he wants and then ransom you to Daniel Sloane. My advice to you is don’t cross him.”

  “Then why are you turning us over to him?”

  “I have no choice, but I’ll tell you this. I won’t be muzzled. There were reforms made in the department when Roosevelt was here, and I intend to follow them whether anyone else does or not.

  “And don’t think you can thwart me with your amateur armchair theories. You obviously have a wide range of interests, but don’t let the current rage for detective stories beguile you into thinking you can prove your friend innocent if she isn’t.”

  “I’ve never read a detective story in my life,” Phil said indignantly. “But I might start.” And she would begin tonight with “The Adventure of Silver Blaze,” which the nice gentleman in the bookstore recommended.

  “For your own good, stick to shopping and afternoon martinis. It’s a lot safer. Good afternoon.”

  “But you don’t think Bev did it.” She hated that she’d blurted that out, but she had to know where they stood.

  “Passport, tickets, mistress, inheritance, missing pistol that happened to turn up here in the library next to a dead man. What do your studies tell you, Lady Dunbridge?”

  A tip of his hat and he was gone, leaving Phil looking at the closed door.

  This wasn’t over, and she didn’t know whether to be concerned or relieved. He’d been stymied by someone for some reason, but he didn’t intend to let it go at that.

  If Bev was innocent, and Phil believed she was, Atkins would be a good ally. Or he could be Bev’s downfall. Either way, he wouldn’t back off. Detective Sergeant John Atkins was a stubborn man.

  He might be officially off the case, but she knew that while the police were going off in another direction, Atkins would keep coming back with one more request, one more question, gathering evidence and organizing a separate case from the one his superiors were following.

  Passport, tickets, mistress, pistol, and now the inheritance and divorce. Step-by-step, like a game of Dots and Boxes, the detective seemed to be setting his aim on Bev, and the motives for murdering Reggie were slowly piling up at her feet.

  Phil walked thoughtfully back to the parlor, where Bev was ringing for Tuttle. Phil was having trouble keeping up with Bev’s propensity for cocktails. After a visit like that, a cup of hot tea would do the trick.

  “That’s why he wasn’t driving,” Bev exclaimed before Phil managed to sit down.

  “Atkins?”

  “Reggie, stupid. He was planning to run off to South America with that … that creature and wanted to make sure we had a driver to get us home.”

  “Oh, Bev.” God forfend that Phil ever got that wrapped up in a man. Reggie was dead, and Bev was still trying to make him love her.

  Bev’s lip slipped into a pout. “If he wanted to go to Buenos Aires, why not take me? Surely I’m as much fun as Mi
ldred Potts. And I would have paid our way.”

  Phil thought maybe she had paid for the trip anyway. “Do you really want to be on the lam with a dissolute gambler in South America?”

  Bev sniffed. “Well, if you put it that way, no. But I just don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Phil agreed. Actually, she could think of several reasons for divorcing Bev. She might be putting pressure on Reggie to drop his mistress. Mimi was most certainly pressuring him to leave his wife. Maybe he just got fed up and chose his mistress.

  But why Mimi LaPonte? She seemed like an odd choice. Bev was beautiful, affectionate, fun loving, and rich in her own right. Mildred Potts, on the other hand, was nice looking in a cheap way, probably knew how to have fun, but couldn’t possibly have money. How much did a Florodora girl make? And why South America? That didn’t make sense. Any woman worth her weight would have made him take her to Europe. Paris, Venice, Monte Carlo.

  “Was it my fault?”

  “What? Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

  Because it was easier for a man to disappear in South America. Reggie was murdered. Perhaps he knew his life was in jeopardy and he was fleeing to stay alive. Would they come after Bev next?

  “Because he wanted to borrow money and this time I said no.”

  “This time? Did he often borrow money from you?”

  “Well, I’d hardly say borrow. Once you lent Reggie anything, it was more of a gift. And I just got tired of forking it over knowing it was going to that bitch of a chorus girl.”

  “As you should,” Phil told her. “I’m sure he would have eventually bled you dry.” Phil bit her tongue. Now, there was a motive for murder. Still, she couldn’t draw her mind from the possibility that Bev might be in danger.

  “It was always feast or famine with Reggie, only we always feasted regardless of the money on hand.”

  So Reggie had asked for money. In order to flee with his mistress. Something was not adding up here. Why leave before the race? If everything she’d heard about Devil’s Thunder was true, Reggie could have made a killing on the winnings. Why not wait a few days and abscond with the prize money?

  Bev blew out air. “Maybe he was so besotted he couldn’t wait.” Tears welled in her eyes. She pulled out a hankie.

  It was possible that he was running from his creditors; Phil had seen the bills and IOUs piled up in his desk. But surely even the most notorious villains would have waited another few days for the race to pay off.

  The police may have released Mildred Potts, but Phil wasn’t convinced that the driver had killed Reggie, and something told her John Atkins wasn’t convinced of it either.

  “Phil, what are you thinking?”

  “Just … nothing.”

  Bev stood, dislodging the book from her lap. It hit the carpet and she kicked it out of her way as she crossed to the window and looked out. “Not a soul in sight, not even a policeman—not even some old Knickerbocker matron come to gloat at my misfortune. At this rate I might as well take up backgammon.”

  And why elope on the day of her arrival, at the docks surrounded by a hundred potential witnesses, instead of sneaking away quietly in the middle of the night? Take a cab with Mildred to the docks one night when no one is around to find him out until he was gone. The divorce papers wouldn’t be delivered until he was out of reach.

  Unless he didn’t have time to plan ahead.

  “Bev, how much money is in Reggie’s money clip?”

  Bev picked the clip off the side table and counted the bills. “Not quite thirty dollars. That wouldn’t get him very far, not the way he spent money.”

  “Maybe the rest was in his suitcase,” Phil suggested. Unless Mildred—or even the police—had helped themselves to it.

  “In his suitcase? Reggie would never take money in a suitcase. Too easy to steal.”

  He certainly wouldn’t have left without money unless he had it wired to a bank there. She thought back, tried to remember if she’d seen any bank books in Reggie’s desk. No, they must be in the safe.

  “Was Reggie really the only one who knew the combination to the safe?”

  “Why?”

  “I just thought that if everyone knew he kept money there…” Phil shrugged.

  “He didn’t tell anyone. He was very adamant about that.”

  “Too bad, they’ll have to dynamite it to open it.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ll open it before that. If they ever give us back the key to the library.”

  “What? You know the combination? How? Why didn’t you tell the detective sergeant? I think you can be arrested for lying to a police officer.”

  “I didn’t lie. I don’t actually ‘know’ the combination. I mean Reggie didn’t tell me. That’s the truth.”

  “Then how do you think you know?”

  “Well, consider this. Reggie is—was—a man and yet he never forgot my birthday.”

  “The combination is your birthday?”

  “It must be. I told Reggie he should make it something he could remember. But being just like a man, he forgot everything that wasn’t about money or the races—or my birthday. God knows I drummed it into his head often enough. It was the one way I knew Reggie would always remember to buy me a present. Aren’t I clever?”

  Phil jumped up. “You are indeed. Let’s go see if he heeded your advice. I want to get a look at what’s in that safe.”

  “But the police haven’t returned the key to the library.”

  “Not to worry. First we’re going to take a look at Reggie’s suitcase and then I’ll ring for Lily.”

  * * *

  The suitcase contained just what the list said it contained—clothes, shoes, a modicum of jewelry—if you believed the police were totally honest and wrote down everything before they helped themselves to the contents. Which was possible; the case had definitely been searched.

  Still, Phil and Bev searched thoroughly. They didn’t find a dime or dollar bill anywhere inside even though Bev seemed to know all the places that might serve to stash hidden cash. Something Phil noted and wondered if Bev knew about the desk’s secret compartment, now empty.

  They stopped by Phil’s bedroom, summoned Lily, who arrived huffing from a run up the stairs.

  “Yes, madam.” She blew out air. “I was downstairs … in the kitchen…”

  “Oh, did we interrupt your tea?”

  “No, madam.”

  “Well,” Phil said, “we have a job to do that includes a hairpin. Shall we?”

  Lily curtseyed. She must have been practicing; it was quite a good curtsey, except the situation was so droll that Phil had trouble not bursting into laughter.

  They tiptoed down the stairs even though it was afternoon, and after checking to see that there were no servants about, they hurried down the hall to the library.

  When the three of them were standing outside the door, Phil turned to Bev. “You must turn around and close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  Bev turned around and put her hands over her eyes.

  “Don’t peek.”

  Bev shook her head.

  Phil pulled out a hairpin and handed it to Lily. The girl knelt down. The lock clicked almost immediately. Her curtsey wasn’t the only thing Miss Lily had been practicing.

  “Thank you, Lily, that will be all.”

  Lily bobbed a jaunty little curtsey and was gone.

  “You can look now.” Phil turned the knob and Bev slipped inside. Phil locked the door behind them.

  “How did you do that?” Bev asked.

  Phil put her fingers to her lips. “All in good time, Bev. Now we must be quiet. We don’t want anyone to know we’re in here, and we must put everything back the way we found it.” She reached into her pocket and brought out two pairs of gloves. Handed one pair to Bev.

  Bev didn’t ask, just put them on.

  “Now to the safe.”

  “Should we be doing this?” Bev a
sked in a whisper.

  “Probably not, but since we no longer have Atkins to depend on, we’d better start taking care of things ourselves.”

  “Okay, but we’d better hurry. Knowing Father, he’ll come by early to visit before taking you to Hilda and Arthur’s dinner.”

  “Oh, drat, the dinner. I’d forgotten. We’d better get to it.”

  Bev walked over to the naked nymphs painting and swung it away from the wall. Three manipulations later, the safe was open.

  “It’s empty!” Bev exclaimed.

  “Shh!” Phil hissed.

  Phil looked inside, ran her fingers around the edges. Not even a speck of dust. So if Reggie didn’t have all the money he supposedly kept in the safe, who did?

  Another rummage through the desk revealed the same stacks of bills and IOUs.

  “I hope they don’t expect me to pay all these,” Bev said, and stuffed them back into the drawer.

  So did Phil. She wandered over to the window. The gap where the glass had been broken was covered with a piece of cardboard. Not very secure, but until the library was freed, there was no way to make the repair.

  “Bev, can you tell if anything is missing? It’s possible they had the combination and stole the money, at which point one kills the other one, which makes a certain sense. But if the thieves couldn’t get into the safe, what would they steal?”

  “Paintings? They’re the most valuable things.” Bev looked around the room. “They all seem to be here.”

  “And the other thing, Bev. The window was locked, painted shut. They couldn’t get in or out that way.”

  “I don’t understand, how else would they have gotten in?”

  Phil looked toward the door, then at Bev.

  “Well, it wasn’t me. I don’t have a key. Besides, why would I break into my own house? And when was I supposed to do it?”

  “I wasn’t suggesting anything of the sort. But perhaps the staff or one of Reggie’s close friends.”

  “Nobody had the key or the combination.”

  “That you know of. When was the last time Reggie was in the library?”

  Bev shrugged. “The morning you came? I was running around getting things ready for your arrival. I left the house for a couple of hours to run some errands. I didn’t notice. Why does it matter?”