A Dangerous Engagement Read online

  Her eyes had taken on a glimmer of intensity as she spoke about her father, and I realized how much he meant to her. “He’s a good businessman, but we’ve known a lot of good businessmen who lost everything, or very nearly everything. I don’t think he could stand to go through it again. I think it would crush him. That’s why I’ve got to protect him.”

  I tried to find the right words to reassure her. “Your concern is admirable, but try not to jump to conclusions. It may be nothing.”

  “But it is something,” she insisted. “I can feel that something’s wrong. That’s why I wanted to talk to you about it. I saw that you had been involved in helping the police with some things in England, and I thought maybe you’d be able to find out what’s going on with Dad.”

  “Good heavens,” I said, horrified. “Has there been news about that here?”

  “Oh, yes. You know how the press loves a good murder. That business with the murdered actress was in the news for days. And with you and Milo being beautiful people, it makes things all the more interesting.”

  I laughed. “I’m flattered, I suppose. But I don’t much like the idea of being linked to such things.”

  “Well, you were pushed off the pages fast enough by another mob killing, but, anyway, it got me thinking.”

  I felt a warning sensation somewhere in the back of my mind. I was about to be pulled into something; I was sure of it.

  “I know this isn’t a murder mystery, but I thought perhaps you could help me keep an eye on Dad. See if you notice anything. Maybe Milo can talk to him. Dad might say things to another man that he wouldn’t say to me.”

  “But, Tabitha, I don’t even know your father well. How can I possibly tell if something is amiss?”

  “You have a good instinct for things. I’m not asking you to do anything dramatic, like follow him around the city, but perhaps you’ll notice something that I don’t. Or perhaps he’ll tell you something that he doesn’t feel comfortable telling me.”

  “Oh, I doubt he’ll find me a confidante,” I protested.

  “You’re easy to talk to,” Tabitha insisted. “And Dad’s always liked you.”

  I highly doubted that if Mr. Alden was doing something such as involving himself with notorious bootleggers that he was likely to confide it in me. Perhaps he would do so to Milo, though, as Tabitha had suggested. They had, after all, apparently enjoyed each other’s company last night. It was possible I could find a way to broach the subject with Milo, though I somehow doubted he would be very enthusiastic about meddling in Mr. Alden’s affairs.

  Tabitha reached out and caught my hand. “Please, Amory. You’ll help me, won’t you?”

  I hesitated. While I didn’t want to get involved in any sort of family troubles the Aldens might be having, I didn’t see how I could possibly tell her no. She was worried about her father, and with the wedding looming, there was already a great deal on her mind. Besides, I doubted anything would come of it.

  “Yes, Tabitha. I’ll see what I can do.”

  It seems that I will never learn.

  5

  A SHORT WHILE later, Jemma Petrie arrived and the three of us left for the fitting of the bridesmaid dresses. Tabitha had hoped to have the gowns brought to the house, but as we were fitting en masse, it had been easier for us to go to the dressmaker’s shop.

  “I’m hoping, since you sent me your measurements, that there won’t be many alterations,” Tabitha said as we drove through the crowded streets, “but if there are, I’m sure they will have them done in time for the wedding. They’re so obliging here.”

  The most expensive couturiers usually were.

  We reached the dressmaker’s, a little shop on Fifth Avenue, and went inside. The décor was chic and modern, everything in shades of cream and gold, and there was the subtle scent of roses in the air. We were ushered into the presence of a sleekly coiffured woman in black who set about our fitting with brisk efficiency.

  The gown Tabitha had chosen for her bridesmaids was lovely, a confection of pale lilac-colored crepe. It had flounced sleeves and was fitted through the bodice with a long, flowing skirt. It was very elegant, and both Jemma and I were eager to model it for the bride.

  Tabitha clasped her hands together in delight when I came out of the fitting room. “It’s perfect!” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t need many alterations done. You’ve got a figure like a model.”

  “You’re sweet,” I said, turning to study the effect of the dress in the mirror. “In fact, I feel as though I’ve gained a few pounds.” I supposed I oughtn’t to have indulged so heartily in breakfast before the fitting.

  “Well, it looks swell on you,” Jemma agreed. “Mine doesn’t look half as good.”

  “I think you look marvelous,” I contradicted her. She had a very nice figure, and the dress was flattering on her. Tabitha had done a marvelous job with her selection, and I was relieved that the gown would not require additional alterations.

  “I love the color,” I said as I examined our reflections once again.

  “Yes, the color’s divine,” Jemma said. “I feel like a goddess.” She struck a dramatic pose, and we all laughed.

  “I know the shade might be a bit unusual for autumn,” Tabitha said, “but it’s one of my favorite colors, and I thought it would look lovely on both you and Jemma.”

  I thought back to my wedding. I had chosen gowns of pale blue organza for my bridesmaids. My cousin Laurel had joked that I had chosen a color that would most flatter me, but I thought all the girls had looked lovely in it.

  Jemma and I returned to our fitting rooms and took off our dresses, dressed again in our own clothes, and went to sit on the little ivory-colored sofa, where one of the salesgirls brought us tea as Tabitha went to try on her gown.

  “It won’t take long,” she promised.

  “Take all the time you need. Will we be able to see your gown?”

  “Perhaps,” she said with a smile. “Though I really want to wait until it’s completely finished.”

  She disappeared then with the seamstress, and Jemma and I sipped our tea and chatted about the gowns and wedding plans.

  “Have you known Tabitha long?” I asked.

  “Several years,” she replied. “We went to school together, in fact.”

  I was a bit surprised that I had never heard of her from Tabitha, but, then again, Tabitha’s letters were very sporadic and also contained information on a great number of topics. Perhaps I just didn’t remember.

  “And what do you think of Tom?” I asked. “They seem made for each other, don’t they?”

  She looked at me, a bit sharply I thought at first, and then she gave a slight shrug. “Tom’s all right, if you like that sort of man.”

  This was not the sort of answer I had been expecting. “What sort of man is that?” I asked lightly.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Tabitha always talked about wanting a knight in shining armor or a handsome prince like something out of a fairy tale. Tom doesn’t exactly fit that bill.”

  “You don’t think so?” I was growing more curious by the moment. It seemed surprising to me that Jemma should dislike Tom. He seemed to me to have the winning combination of good looks and an amiable disposition that would appeal to almost any woman.

  She shrugged. “I’ve always thought him a bit of a milquetoast. But if Tabitha is happy, I’m happy for her. I like someone a bit more exciting myself.”

  I wondered if, perhaps, Jemma had also had her sights set on Tom. I couldn’t help but notice that her manner seemed quite changed from the cheerful friendliness she had exhibited upon our first meeting, even from the camaraderie of our fitting a few moments ago. Were my comments about Tom the reason for it? I hadn’t seen her pay any particular attention to him, but the way in which she spoke so carelessly of him made it seem as though she was hiding something beneath the surface.

  I had no basis for assuming so, of course. As much as I hated to admit it, I did sometimes look too closely for signs o
f hidden conflict. Perhaps it was an unfortunate by-product of my involvement in several murder investigations, but I always felt as though I was trying to read between the lines, to catch the subtle undercurrents of conversation that might tell me something the person didn’t want to reveal.

  “Well, I think the wedding is going to be lovely,” I said, forcing my mind away from its tendency to look for trouble where none might exist. Jemma’s next words brought me back around to the idea that all might not be well, however.

  “I hope so. I’m glad for Tabitha’s sake that things have been going as smoothly as they have.”

  “Is there some reason they shouldn’t?”

  “There’s been some bad blood between Grant and Rudy the past few months. It made things a little awkward for a while.”

  “Oh, what sort of trouble?” I asked, remembering Grant Palmer had distinctly told me that Rudy Elliot was his best friend.

  “I don’t know exactly. They didn’t discuss it in front of me, though you could feel them hating each other whenever they were in the same room. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had something to do with a woman, because I heard them whispering heatedly one day. Rudy said something like, ‘I’m going to have her,’ or something like that, though I doubt he succeeded. Grant’s always been fond of stealing women from Rudy.”

  “I see.” I pictured Grant Palmer at the dinner table, with his dark good looks and the casually contemptuous way he had spoken of Rudy Elliot’s career.

  “I guess they’ve patched things up, though,” Jemma went on. “They’re always fighting, almost like brothers. Though they certainly don’t come from the same sort of background.”

  “I understand Mr. Elliot’s father was a banker.”

  She nodded. “It hit him hard when his dad died.”

  “And what about Mr. Palmer’s background?”

  “Oh, Grant’s family has never had much money, as far as I know. I’m not really sure how he and Rudy ever came to be friends. To be honest, I always suspected Rudy got in with the wrong crowd of boys when he was young.”

  “Then Mr. Palmer has always been a troublemaker?”

  “Well, I don’t imagine he was ever a choirboy,” she said with a laugh. “He’s gotten into several scrapes with the police. He’s always doing something underhanded.”

  “You sound as though you’re not too fond of him.”

  “You’re right. I don’t care for Grant at all,” she said easily. “Never have.”

  I had the sense it was more than just casual dislike.

  “Have you known him long?” I asked, trying to draw her out.

  “As long as I’ve known Rudy, I guess. A few years. The two of them are always together, usually with Rudy pulling Grant out of scrapes. Grant even worked with Rudy at Rudy’s dad’s banking business for a while before … before Mr. Elliot died. The two of them have always been like oil and water. Of course, it doesn’t help matters between them that Grant is so handsome, and Rudy, while very nice, isn’t exactly the sort of man that women go crazy over.”

  I considered this. I could certainly see where Grant Palmer would be more appealing to women than Rudy Elliot. After all, I had married a tall, dark, and handsome rogue myself. Just the same, there was something undeniably appealing about Rudy Elliot. His easy confidence and friendly manner made him attractive in his own way.

  “I think Mr. Elliot seems very nice.”

  “Oh, he is. Rudy can be a bore at times, but he’s really sweet. I think he’d make an excellent husband someday.”

  “For you, perhaps?” I asked.

  She laughed. “Goodness, no! I wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face as we said our vows. But he’s a nice guy, and I hope he finds the right woman.”

  “And what of Mr. Palmer?” I asked the question casually, and she answered it with apparent indifference.

  “I don’t think Grant has any interest in a wife. And I’d pity any woman who was married to him.”

  Tabitha came back out then. She was not wearing her wedding gown, and she looked a bit disappointed. “It isn’t fitting quite right. I don’t want you to see it yet.”

  “I’m sure it will be lovely,” I said brightly.

  “I hope so. I hope the fact that it’s ill-fitting doesn’t bode poorly for my marriage,” she said lightly.

  “Not a chance,” I assured her. “Everything is going to be wonderful.”

  * * *

  WHEN TOM DECIDED to spirit Tabitha away for a drive before dinner, I suggested to Milo that we might take a walk. It was the first time I had had an opportunity to be alone with him that day, and I was eager to discuss my morning conversation with Tabitha.

  It was such a lovely afternoon, however, that I didn’t want to broach the subject of Tabitha’s suspicions immediately. We left the house and walked along the pavement parallel to the park for a while, admiring the large, stately houses that spoke of comfortable wealth. Many of the window boxes still held colorful flowers, though it was late in the season and a scattering of orange and brown leaves crunched beneath our feet. For a few moments I walked along, holding Milo’s arm and enjoying the mild autumn breeze and the sunshine on our faces.

  “What were you saying about Mr. Alden’s business last night?” I eventually asked. “I’m afraid it was rather rude of me to fall asleep.”

  “Nonsense. I oughtn’t to have been boring you with such things when you were clearly exhausted. He was relating to me some aspects of his recent business endeavors.”

  “Oh? Like what?”

  “He’s long been in shipping, as you know, but saw his profits fall sharply due to the depression. It’s only as of late that he’s begun to build up relationships with local businesses that are creating stores in other cities, housing items at his warehouses until they are ready for shipment to new locations.”

  I was a bit surprised that Milo had apparently taken an interest in the workings of Mr. Alden’s business. Normally, such a topic would have been tedious to him.

  “Are there many businesses expanding in this economy?” I asked.

  “It seems so. He’s beginning to have more business than he has trucks and space in his warehouse.”

  “I suppose the increased business has put a great deal of pressure on him,” I suggested, hoping to draw Milo out on the subject of any potential troubles Mr. Alden might have confided to him.

  “I assume it’s pressure he’s happy to be experiencing. A great many people aren’t faring so well at the moment.”

  “Of course. I only wondered … Did he seem at all concerned about anything in particular?” I asked casually, though apparently not casually enough, for Milo glanced at me, his gaze suddenly sharp.

  “What is this about?”

  I sighed. I ought to have known that I wouldn’t be able to subtly bring up the topic without arousing his suspicions.

  I briefly considered trying to recover, but I supposed now that Milo was aware that I was fishing for information, I might as well come out with it.

  “Tabitha says that she thinks there’s something strange going on with her father.”

  “Such as?”

  As we crossed the street and walked into the park, I related what she had told me this morning. Though he listened carefully to my recitation of the facts, Milo appeared unmoved by the list of Mr. Alden’s supposed strange behaviors.

  “She’s probably imagining things,” he said when I had finished.

  “Imagining vandalism and strangers arriving in the night? I think not,” I said, irritated at this casual dismissal. “She’s not a simpleton, Milo.”

  “Of course not. That’s not what I meant. I mean she’s probably ascribing significance to these events that doesn’t exist. She doesn’t know the ins and outs of his business dealings. Those strangers could be anyone. And many businesses are forced to contend with attempted theft.”

  “But Tabitha is so adamant that he’s been behaving strangely lately.”

  “Darling, Mr. Alden is a bu
sinessman. No doubt he has a great many things on his mind. Added to that, his only child is about to be married. I don’t think a bit of changed behavior on his part is cause for alarm.”

  It was much the same argument I had made to Tabitha, but it was dissatisfying somehow to hear it from Milo.

  “Do you suppose it has something to do with his sudden change in fortunes?” I asked, ignoring his skepticism. “I did wonder if he’s taken up with bootleggers.”

  Milo seemed to consider this. “It doesn’t seem likely, considering all he told me.”

  “You seem to know quite a lot about Mr. Alden’s business dealings,” I observed.

  “We talked at length about them last night. You see, I’ve decided to invest in Alden Shipping.”

  I stopped walking and turned to face him. “You’ve what?”

  “He is looking for investors, and it seems to me I could do worse than put my money into a thriving business belonging to a friend of the family.”

  I stared at him. I had not been expecting this. Milo had always made sound financial decisions, but I was concerned, given Tabitha’s worries, whether this had been a wise thing to do. Of course, Milo had a good head for business; I wouldn’t argue the point with him, especially if he had already committed himself.

  “I’m glad for him, then,” I said. “He could do much worse than to have someone like you on his side.”

  Milo smiled. “Thank you, darling. I hope this sets your mind at ease. Mr. Alden’s company appears to be very successful and likely to continue to be.”

  “And you don’t think there is something troubling him?”

  “I suppose there could be. Any number of things. But what does Tabitha expect you to do about it?”

  Milo was naturally inclined to be dismissive in cases such as these, the main problem being that he was not much interested in other people’s problems. Lucky, then, that he now had a financial investment. It would give him something to care about.