Page 97 of Evil at the Essex House
“Schatz,” I said. “My father’s name.”
“No wonder His Lordship calls you Darling,” Ian Finchley muttered, and Christopher told him, “That isn’t why, Finch, as you very well know.”
“Of course it’s why, Christopher,” I said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
The look he gave me suggested that he thought I was the ridiculous one, and I rolled my eyes. And then Tom waved it all aside and said again, and not as a question this time, “Would someone please tell me what’s going on.”
ChapterTwenty-Two
When no oneelse spoke up—Sarah being busy with Hiram and Hiram being busy being attended to, and Wolfgang perhaps uncertain about the legality of his use of a sword cane—I took it upon myself to respond.
“You received the message we left, so you know what we’re doing here.”
Tom nodded. “Mrs. Schlomsky told you that Florence had a country cottage, and you decided to visit it.”
“She was never gone from the Essex House Mansions for any length of time,” I explained, “so I knew she didn’t spend any time in it. Besides, nobody who wanted a country cottage to get away from London would take one here.”
Tom nodded. “And of course, now we know that the woman you knew wasn’t Florence Schlomsky at all.”
Yes, we did. My eyes fastened on the brunette clutching her arm on the floor, and so did everyone else’s.
“Name?” Tom wanted to know. And added, “Actually, let me give you mine first, so there’s no question about what’s going on here. I’m Detective Sergeant Thomas Gardiner with Scotland Yard, and this is Detective Sergeant Ian Finchley.”
There was a pause when nobody said anything but when I could clearly hear confidence levels dropping all over the room. They’d been caught, fair and square, and by the authorities, and the game was over. There was no talking their way out of this.
“You are…?” Tom prompted.
“The blonde’s name is Ruth,” I said, when no answer was immediately forthcoming from anyone. “She was the Schlomsky’s maid, whom they sent to England ahead of Florence to get everything ready for Flossie’s arrival. And I heard her call the… um… the gentleman over there Sid.”
Tom looked at him. And waited.
“Sidney Hodge,” Sid said eventually, reluctantly.
“Thank you, Mr. Hodge. And when did you make this lady’s acquaintance?”
Sid shot Ruth a look. If she had hoped that he would do something gentlemanly, something to protect her, she must have been disappointed, because he was quick to answer and made no attempt to soften the blow. “September of last year.”
“Where?”
“My mother’s auntie runs a lodging house in Putney,” Sid said.
“And Miss Ruth stayed there?”
Sid flicked another glance at her. “She took the train up from Southampton to Waterloo station. Aunt Liz told me to go fetch her off the train. She was trying to make a good impression on the American millionaire, I suppose.”
This time, the glance was at Hiram.
“You disapprove of Americans?” Tom asked gently, since Sid’s voice, and the look he had leveled on Hiram, had certainly indicated something of that nature. “Or perhaps you disapprove of millionaires?”
“Well, it isn’t fair,” Sid said, “is it? That he should have so much, and so many of us have so little?”
There was nothing that could be said to that, since he was right. Or at least he was right as far as people like Crispin and Uncle Harold were concerned. People with inherited wealth, enough of it that nothing will ever be an issue for them, while so many people go without.
Although at least Hiram had worked for his money, as far as I understood it.
The millionaire didn’t say anything in his defense, however, and Tom turned back to Sid. “So you fetched Miss Ruth at Waterloo. And took her back to your aunt’s boarding house?”
Sid nodded. “Her and her friend.”
