Wait Until Midnight

TWENTY-FOUR

"I am very uncomfortable with the notion of attending your sister's ball," Caroline said.

It was not the first time she had made the remark.

Following the departure of Julia, Richard and Wilson, she and Adam had avoided further questions from Emma and Milly in favor of taking a hackney cab to this quiet, tree-shaded street. Their intent was to interview Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent, the two women who had been promised a visit by a man who would offer them an excellent investment.

"Stop worrying about the damned gowns," Adam said. A trace of impatience edged his words, probably because this was not the first time he had uttered his assurances. "Julia will see to it that you are perfectly turned out for the ball."

"But three ball gowns and all the trimmings will cost a fortune, Adam."

He looked amused. "Please believe me when I tell you that I am well aware of how much gowns cost. I paid for Julia's for years before Southwood took over the task and I am still paying for Jessica's." The carriage halted. Adam checked a note he had made. "This appears to be the ad-dress we are looking for. I suggest we cease this rather repetitive discussion and proceed with business."

"Repetitive? I am not repetitive. Are you implying that I repeat myself?"

He smiled. "Wouldn't dream of even hinting at such a thing. Are you ready to talk to Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent?"

She forced herself to concentrate on the matter at hand. "Yes, of course. You had better let me ask most of the questions. Remember, they know you as my assistant, Mr. Grove."

"I shall try to remember my place"

They descended from the cab and went up the steps. Adam banged the knocker twice. The door opened a moment later. A young, frowsy-looking housekeeper in a worn apron peered out.

"What can I do for ye?" she asked.

"We are here to see Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent," Adam said. "You may tell them that Mrs. Fordyce and Mr. Grove wish to speak with them"

The housekeeper frowned. "Wait here, please."

She returned a moment later and ushered Adam and Caroline into a tiny, gloomy parlor.

Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent were delighted to see them.

"This is, indeed, an honor, Mrs. Fordyce," Miss Brick exclaimed. "We have never had an author call on us. Will you take tea?"

"Tea would be lovely," Caroline said and sat down on a squat sofa covered in green velvet. The fabric was thin and shiny from long years of wear. "Thank you for seeing us. Mr. Grove and I have some questions concerning the events that followed Mrs. Toller's séance"

Adam went to stand near the fireplace, one hand braced on the mantel. Caroline knew that he was watching the expressions on the faces of both women closely. Neither betrayed any indication that they had yet heard of the murder of the medium.

"It was certainly a very satisfactory sitting," Miss Brick said.

"It was so good to speak with our generous friend on the Other Side," Mrs. Trent added.

Caroline smiled. "As I told you last night, I am re-searching the business of séances and mediums with the assistance of Mr. Grove. One of the most important questions one must ask is how much of what a medium predicts comes to pass."

Mrs. Trent made a tut-tutting sound. "There are so many frauds about these days. But we can assure you that Mrs. Toller's talent is quite genuine."

Adam moved slightly. "Then you did, indeed, receive a visit from a gentleman offering the opportunity of a lucrative investment?"

"Oh my, yes," Miss Brick said. "He showed up early this morning. We were still at breakfast when he called." "Can you describe him?" Adam asked.

Caroline could see that the ladies were taken aback by the question.

"A description would be quite helpful for my research," she said quickly.

That seemed to ease the concerns of both women.

"Yes, well, let me think," Miss Brick said. "His name was Mr. Jones. He had a most unfortunate limp. His entire body was somewhat twisted. I suspect he suffered some dreadful illness as a child that affected his posture"

"Very sad." Mrs. Trent sighed. "Such a pleasant gentleman. Excellent manners. Oh, he wore gold-rimmed spectacles"

Miss Brick narrowed her eyes. "Too many whiskers, if you ask me. He could have done with a trim."

Caroline glanced at Adam.

"You say Jones limped?" Adam asked.

Miss Brick nodded. "Rather badly, I'm afraid." "Which leg?" Caroline asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Miss Brick frowned. "Oh, I see what you mean. I can't recall if it was the right or the left. Can you, Sally?"

Mrs. Trent pursed her lips, brows wrinkling. "Left, I believe. No, wait, it may have been his right leg that appeared weak. Oh, dear, I'm afraid I can't be entirely certain on that point."

"But he identified himself just as Mrs. Toller told us he would, and he offered us a very fine investment," Miss Brick said eagerly.

"You gave him some money?" Caroline asked, fearing the worst.

"It was a golden opportunity," Mrs. Trent said cheer-fully. "We would have been foolish not to take advantage of it."

"Oh, dear," Caroline whispered.

"What sort of investment did this Mr. Jones offer to you?" Adam asked.

For the first time, the ladies hesitated, looking at each other.

Miss Brick cleared her throat in an apologetic manner. "We don't wish to seem rude or unhelpful, but Mr. Jones made it clear that we were not to discuss the exact nature of the investment."

"For fear of starting a mad scramble to obtain shares, you see," Mrs. Trent explained. "He said that if it got out that such an excellent opportunity was available, any number of people would try to take advantage. He said secrecy was imperative."

"Of course," Adam said, looking wise. "You must keep the shares in a safe place."

Miss Brick's eyes twinkled. "Never fear, we have them well hidden."

"I'm delighted to hear that" Adam caught Caroline's eye. "Well, I think that is enough research for today, don't you, Mrs. Fordyce? Shall we be on our way?"

Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent stared, stricken.

"But you haven't had tea yet," Miss Brick said in a pleading sort of way.

Caroline glared at Adam. "We haven't had tea, Mr. Grove."

He drummed his fingers on the marble mantel and gave her a thin, steely grin. "Right. Tea. How could I forget?"

Twenty minutes later, Caroline decided that they could finally take their leave without hurting the ladies' feelings.

Outside on the street, Adam seized her arm. "Thought we'd never get out of there."

"Now, Adam, I realize that you are impatient, but it would have been very unkind to rush off. Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent would have been crushed."

"They are no doubt going to be completely flattened, financially speaking, at least, when they discover that those shares they were issued are worthless"

She winced. "I was afraid you were going to say that. Do you think there is any chance at all that Mr. Jones offered them a legitimate investment opportunity?"

"No."

Nothing ambiguous about that response, she noted. "While you spoke with Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent, a question occurred to me."

"What was it?"

"Stock certificates are printed documents, are they not?"

He glanced at her, curious. "Yes. They are often quite ornate with a good deal of fancy lettering and pictures of the railroad or the mine or whatever project the shares rep-resent. Why do you ask?"

"My publisher, Mr. Spraggett, is a printer who grew up in the business. From my dealings with him, I can assure you that printers take great pride in their art." She paused. "In fact, Mr. Spraggett told me once that printers often sign their work with something called a printer's mark."

Adam halted, forcing her to stop so quickly that she al-most stumbled. He looked as if he had just had a revelation.

"What a brilliant notion, madam." He kissed her quite fiercely, looking very pleased. "Absolutely brilliant. If I could track down the printer who produced the shares, I might be able to learn something about the man who commissioned them."

Breathless, Caroline blushed and then quickly checked the street to make certain that no one had witnessed the outrageous spectacle of a gentleman kissing a lady in public. She was relieved to see that there was no one about.

Adam glanced back toward the little house shared by Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent. A decidedly calculating expression darkened his features. "I would very much like to take a look at those shares."

"No, please," she said hastily. "Adam, every time you search a house, you come across dead bodies."

"That is very unfair of you, Caroline. It only happened once in the case of Elizabeth Delmont."

"It very nearly happened again with Irene Toller." She shuddered. "You had every intention of searching her house. If you had gone there only an hour or two earlier this morning, the police might well have discovered you in-side the house. That would have made them a good deal less inclined to believe your alibi."

"Nonsense. I was perfectly safe so long as I had you to vouch for my whereabouts at the time of the murder. Who could possibly doubt the word of the famous author Mrs. Fordyce?"

A short time later they were ushered into the lodgings of Mr. McDaniel, the elderly sitter who had been promised a financial windfall at Elizabeth Delmont's last séance.

McDaniel was as delighted with his unexpected company as Miss Brick and Mrs. Trent had been. He proved even more willing to chat about his good fortune.

"Yes, indeed, the man of affairs Mrs. Delmont described showed up, just as the spirit promised. Name of Jones." He raised his cup using a hand that shook so badly, tea splashed onto his trousers. He did not seem to notice. "Very polite. Very knowledgeable. Pity about the dreadful limp»

"Do you recall anything else about him, sir?" Adam asked.

"Not really. Too many whiskers. Fellow ought to have a hat with his barber." Mr. McDaniel hesitated, thinking. "Wore spectacles." He raised his brows. "Why do you ask?"

"A man very similar to the one you describe approached me with an interesting financial opportunity," Adam said with the air of one shrewd investor to another. "Mentioned your name. Thought I'd inquire into his references, as it were."

Caroline made a note of the fact that Adam could spin a web of fiction as easily as she did.

McDaniel brightened. "He offered you a similar proposition, I take it? Shares in a mining company?"

"I'm looking into it," Adam allowed. "But, to be frank, he did not show me any actual stock certificates. That worried me somewhat so I have been reluctant to hand over my money."

"Odd. He certainly had no hesitation in presenting me with a certificate."

"I wonder if I might have a look at them," Adam said. "Just to see if they appear legitimate."

"Don't see why not. Jones said not to talk about the project with anyone who was not involved in it. But in view of the fact that you are considering the same investment, I can't imagine that he would object to me showing you the shares."

"Thank you," Adam said.

Mr. McDaniel heaved himself out of his chair with the aid of a cane and tottered to the desk in the corner. He unlocked a drawer and withdrew a sheet of heavy paper. Adam crossed the room to examine it. Caroline followed quickly.

The stock certificate was an impressive-looking document with a light blue background. It was decorated with flamboyantly executed lettering that read Drexford Co. and featured a vignette of a mine, complete with miners and their tools. The detail was very fine and the printing was superb.

"It certainly looks genuine," Adam said, casually handing the certificate to Caroline. "What do you think, Mrs. Fordyce? As one who is involved in the world of publishing, you are more expert than I in such matters"

Mr. McDaniel looked anxious as his precious certificate was passed to a third party. She gave him a reassuring smile and quickly held the document up to the light.

Amid the flourishes, curls and fancy work, she could clearly discern the small figure of a griffin entwined with the letter B.

"The printing is quite elegant," she said, giving the certificate back to Mr. McDaniel.

"What did Mr. Jones tell you about the firm?" Adam asked.

"The company owns a gold mine somewhere in the_. American West," McDaniel said, relaxing now that the certificate was safely back in his hands. "The founder died be-fore he could begin operations. Left everything to his heir, a young man who is determined to open the mine and make it productive"

"But the heir requires capital to finance the expenses involved in starting up the mine, correct?" Adam asked.

Caroline could hear the grim edge on the words but Mc-Daniel was oblivious.

"Precisely." McDaniel bobbed his head with a sage expression. "Can't go wrong with gold, I always say."

"Words of wisdom, sir," Adam said. "I shall certainly give close consideration to the investment. I appreciate your assistance."

"Not at all, not at all" McDaniel tucked the certificate securely back into the drawer. "I must say, I was somewhat skeptical when the spirit advised me to be on the lookout for Mr. Jones, but when he showed up the very next day I realized that the medium was the genuine article."

"As genuine as that stock certificate you just put into that drawer, Mr. McDaniel," Adam said.