“Warned? About what? So Mrs. Van H. dirtied her hands investing in brothels and gaming dens. That hardly makes her dangerous. And even if she was,” Duffy puffed out his chest, “she’d be more likely to come after yours truly.”
Rory didn’t agree, but she sought in vain for the words to explain her fear. Duffy was a hardheaded reporter who dealt in facts. How did one begin to explain to him such intangible things as dreams, instincts and premonitions, without sounding a fool?
“I would just feel better”she said, “if you would go to Zeke and make sure he knows, or at least see if the police have taken Mrs. Van Hallsburg into custody.”
“Well, sure, if you want me to.” He pulled out his pocket watch and snapped open the case. “But I’m not certain at this hour of day where to find him or Mrs. Van Hallsburg.”
“Say, Rory.” Angelo’s piping voice startled them both. “She’s downstairs.” He had poked his head in the office door in time to hear Duffy’s last remark.
“What?” Rory gasped, hoping she must have misunderstood the boy.
“That lady you were talking about, Mrs. Van Whats-her-name.” Angelo jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “She’s waiting below, wanting to see you, Rory.”
Rory paled as she exchanged a glance with Duffy.
“She sent up her card.” Angelo gave her a crisp white rectangle of vellum now smudged by his fingerprints, yet not enough to obscure the elegant, arrogant scrawl. The faintest odor of perfume drifted from it, and Rory’s hand trembled as though she had just been handed some witch’s charm.
Duffy let out a long, low whistle. “Well, speak of the devil. What an opportunity. Show her upstairs, kid.”
Before Rory could intervene, Duffy had dispatched Angelo on the errand.
“Duffy, I don’t want to see her,” Rory said. She was too ashamed to admit she had an almost supernatural dread of the woman. “I can’t imagine why she would come here. Shouldn’t we send for the police?”
“And miss the chance for the biggest interview of my career? Look, I know she won’t even let me get near her, but you could help me, Miss Kavanaugh. Maybe just ask her a few questions.”
“Like what? Have you been to tea with the Astors lately, Mrs. Van Hallsburg? Oh, and by the way, did you kill Charles Decker?”
“You’ll have to be a little more subtle than that. But I better get out of here. If she sees me, she’ll turn and stalk right out again.” Duffy snatched up his derby, pausing long enough to give Rory’s shoulder a pat. “Good luck.”
“Duffy!” she protested. But the door was already closing behind him. “Damn you, Duffy!”
The man had just set her up for a chat with a suspected murderess, then had the temerity to wish her luck. Rory had to fight an urge to bolt out the office door. When the knock finally came, she nearly started out of her skin. Struggling to be calm, she ranged herself behind her desk as though that meager barrier could afford her some protection.
“Come in,” she said, fortifying herself. The door inched open and a shadow fell across the room, a shadow that seemed to be all rustling silk and regal posture.
Mrs. Van Hallsburg stepped over the threshold clad in a dove-colored walking suit trimmed with black braid, her white-gold hair swept up beneath an English felt hat adorned with a jet pin and tiny feathers. She looked so composed, so sophisticated, so very much the socialite, that Rory felt a little foolish. Her fears and suspicions seemed absurd until she looked into the woman’s eyes. Hard, compassionless and colder than the winds of winter.
A contemptuous smile curled Mrs. Van Hallsburg’s lips. “Miss Kavanaugh?”
Rory was surprised that the haughty dame even remembered her name. “Yes?”
“I assume I may sit down?”
Rory flushed, realizing she had been gaping, making her nervousness too apparent. She nodded, indicating a chair. Mrs. Van Hallsburg ran one gloved finger over the wooden seat before deigning to lower herself upon it.
She trained the full force of her regard upon Rory, her stare steady and unnerving. Rory thought fleetingly of Duffy, all the careful probing he wanted her to do, but the only question that sprang to mind was,What the hell are you doing here, lady?
After a nerve-wracking silence, she said, “You’ll have to excuse my astonishment, Mrs. Van Hallsburg. Frankly, you are the last person I ever expected to see.”
“Indeed.” Mrs. Van Hallsburg slowly stripped off her gloves. “I was put to some trouble to find you.”
“I don’t know why you would go to such bother. The few times we’ve met at Mr. Morrison’s, I had the impression you found me beneath your notice.”
“Let us merely say I didn’t approve of your friendship with John.”
“What right did you have to approve or disapprove? You have no claim on him.”
“I have more of a claim than you could possibly imagine, my dear. The bond that existed between myself and John Morrison was something special, irrevocable, at least until you came along.”
