The Vaudeville Star Read online

  A knock fell on the door, and Archie Moore entered. “Bess! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said, his eyes taking in the two strangers and Ruby.

  “Inspector, Sergeant. My brother, Archie Moore,” Bessie introduced them quickly.

  “Is there anything wrong?” Archie asked as his sister walked toward him.

  “Nothing is wrong.” Bessie took her brother’s arm, and they left the room.

  When the door closed behind them, Thompson resumed the questioning.

  “After the ball, Miss Sutton?”

  “After the ball, I went to visit Mr. Parker at his town house in Mayfair,” Ruby said, repeating the lie King had demanded of her.

  “How long did your visit last?” he asked, his pen held at the ready to record her answer.

  “I—that is to say . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I-I stayed the night.”

  “Hmmm.” He recorded her answer. “To read Shakespeare over sherry, no doubt.”

  “If there’s nothing else?” Ruby stood, suddenly flushed.

  Thompson placed his notebook and pen inside his coat jacket and smiled.

  “Nothing more, Miss Sutton. Mr. Parker is quite lucky to have such beautiful women by his side. Oh, did I say women? I meant woman,” he said cryptically.

  The inspector moved forward, leaving the sergeant to trail behind.

  “I did enjoy your performance, Miss Sutton. Very much so,” he said, smiling at her.

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” she said sincerely. “I’m glad you did. Sergeant. A moment. This questioning about where I was. What is it all about?”

  The sergeant looked over at the inspector, who was speaking to the front desk clerk, before he turned once more to Ruby.

  “There was a lady who was killed. She was strangled. We don’t know much about her. She’s apparently a foreigner. There was someone who linked her to Mr. Parker, but he was very firm when we spoke to him that he was with you last night. So now that you’ve cleared that up, he’s in the clear as well.” The sergeant smiled at her.

  “Barton!” came the inspector’s loud voice.

  The sergeant began to move away, but Ruby caught up with him again. “Sergeant. The name. Do you know the name of the woman who was killed?”

  “Yes.” He pulled his own notebook out and scanned it quickly. “Here it is. Lourdes. Lourdes Banegas.”

  Bessie rejoined Ruby as she sat in the hotel foyer, feeling dazed.

  “I’m sorry I left you. Archie was going on about—” She suddenly stopped talking, taking in her friend’s vacant look. “Ruby?”

  “Bessie, I . . .”

  “Ruby?” Bessie sat next to her and took her hands in hers. “Your hands are like ice!”

  Ruby looked at her friend and then looked up and down the hotel lobby. She tried to remember what words King had used when he had come to her room.

  “ . . . there was an accident last night. A most unfortunate accident. The police have been notified. It’s all a big misunderstanding, but I need you to tell the police that we were together last night.”

  He called the strangulation of his mistress an accident. A most unfortunate accident, she thought. His words chilled her to the core.

  “I was talking to the inspector,” Ruby said numbly.

  “Let’s take a walk. Even if we don’t go to the museum, you need some fresh air.” Bessie pulled her up, and Ruby let herself be led.

  As they were leaving, she saw King Parker and Ford getting into a taxicab, but neither saw her. She felt haunted suddenly, and when Bessie secured them a taxicab as well to take them to Regent’s Park, she said nothing.

  “Ruby, tell me. What is it? Has something happened? The inspector, what did he want?”

  Ruby shook her head even as she thought of the sergeant’s words. Strangulation. Lourdes.

  “It’s nothing. He was just asking me about Devonshire House,” Ruby lied. “There was a theft. But I didn’t see anything.”

  Bessie dropped the subject, but Ruby felt increasingly ill. More lies. And why? To protect King? From what? she wondered.

  When the taxicab dropped them off, they walked together in silence through the flowers, trees, and expansive lawns.

  They had another week before they set off for Paris, but the thought offered Ruby no consolation. As long as King was breathing down her neck, forcing her to tell lies to the police, she felt trapped. She wondered about Lourdes and her death.

  She could still see Lourdes in the blue dress she wore the night of the party at King’s house, her skin tone a lovely contrast against the splash of color. She wondered how long she had been King’s mistress and why she was even in London. King had not mentioned her, but then, why would he? If he was set on marrying Ruby, he would never tell her that he had brought his mistress along as well.

  She closed her eyes. Strangulation. Her lovely little neck strangled. Such a large amount of hate and violence it must have taken to snuff the life out of a woman so full of life. Hate and that much violence didn’t happen overnight. It took time to nurture and grow. What kind of stranger would come out of the woodwork and kill Lourdes? It made no sense.

  Ford looked over at King as they sat in the front parlor waiting for the inspector to arrive. King had not said much, only that there had been an accident and everything would be taken care of.

  Ford knew that King was not a man to overly discuss his private life. He liked it to remain private and only confided in others when it was necessary. When the butler showed the two gentlemen into the parlor, they all shook hands after introductions and sat down.

  Ford watched the older inspector take a small notebook from his jacket pocket while the young sergeant toyed with his pocket watch. He could tell from the way he handled it that it was precious to him. Maybe a father or grandfather had gifted it to him.

  Tea was brought in and poured out for each of them. King added sugar and milk to his before he settled back into the couch.

  “So, gentlemen. How can I help you? Have you spoken to the lady?”

  The inspector nodded. “We did. It seems everything is as you said. She was with you all last night, here in the town house.”

  King smiled. He looked to Ford and then back at the policemen. “Exactly. As I said, this tragedy is just that. A tragedy.”

  The inspector nodded and looked over his notebook as the sergeant helped himself to a cup of tea.

  “Let’s go over this one more time. I understand you are in town on business.”

  “Several items are pressing for my attention. I financed the vaudeville troupe that played before the king at the Matinee Theatre,” he said smoothly.

  “Yes. I have that noted,” Thompson said.

  “I also have some real estate developments that I have been working on for some time.” King sipped his tea.

  “Yes. I have the names of the firms you are working with.”

  King nodded.

  “So the night in question,” Thompson reminded him.

  “Of course. Lourdes followed me to Devonshire House, where I was attending a party. She called herself my wife, and they allowed her in. I didn’t expect her to be there, and a fight ensued.” He nodded at Ford. “Ford was there as well.”

  “Oh yes?” Thompson asked.

  “That’s right. I saw Lourdes at Devonshire House. She was drunk and making a scene.”

  Thompson made a note and then turned his attention back to King. “What was the row about?”

  King shrugged his shoulders. “I ended our relationship before I left New York, and she was taking it badly. I knew nothing of her coming to London, so it was quite a shock.”

  “Go on,” Thompson said.

  “There were words. Thrown back and forth. I’m sorry for it now. I should have handled it better. I escorted her back to her hotel. An hour later, there was a note delivered saying she wanted to part as friends and asked that I come see her.” King looked into his teacup.

  “Yes?” the in
spector prompted.

  “I didn’t go,” King said firmly.

  The room was silent except for the ticking of the mantel clock. “I regret that now. Perhaps had I gone, I might have saved her life.”

  The inspector nodded. “Dastardly thing. To strangle a woman and then dump her in the alley. Obviously, some madman got to her. Most unfortunate.” He paused before continuing. “I’ll need you to come down and identify the body. It’s at the local morgue.”

  King looked distraught while Ford watched the movements of the policemen. They were both cool and calm as they surveyed everything.

  “Of course I will.” King nodded.

  As the policemen were leaving, the inspector gave his card to Ford.

  “If either of you remember anything else, let us know.”

  Ford moved back into the parlor and saw that King was resting his head against the sofa.

  “I didn’t want to involve you or the agency, Ford. It’s a mess, but it’s nothing that can’t be straightened out.”

  Ford remembered when he had come upon King and Lourdes fighting in the hallway the previous night. She’d had too much to drink, and she was stumbling. They had put her in a bedroom, and then King had suddenly decided to take her home. That had been the truth. He had been there. But as to the rest of King’s tale, only he and Lourdes knew the real story. And Lourdes was dead.

  “Well. It seems you have a visit to the morgue to make. I’ll leave you to it,” Ford said before bidding him good-bye.

  23

  Ford placed his hat on his head and went out into the gray London day. He thought back on what had happened the previous night at the ball. Lourdes had followed King to the party and had arrived after Ruby performed. King had never even seen Ruby that night, and Ford had only by accident in the upstairs parlor.

  Lourdes and King had stayed less than a half hour, as it became quite apparent that she was drunk. She had swayed against King and offered herself to him in the hallway, which had been pathetic. Ford had been embarrassed for her.

  He had offered to take Lourdes back to her hotel, but King had given him a hard look and grabbed her arm and flung her into an empty room before he decided to take her back himself. His eyes had been dark and empty as he stared at Lourdes.

  I’ll handle this. I’ll get her home. Without making a scene, King had said.

  King was a powerful man, and not one used to being crossed. What would a man like King do if suddenly a young woman was in the way of what he wanted?

  A light drizzle fell from the sky. He walked along the street with the thought of Lourdes’s cold body lying in the morgue. Before he realized what he was doing, he had asked for directions and found himself walking in the direction of the morgue, though he had no idea what he would say or do once he was there.

  The coroner greeted Ford and waved a hand at him when he tried to introduce himself.

  “Yes, yes,” he said dismissively.

  “I’m here to visit—”

  “Your sweetheart, I daresay,” said the man, chuckling at his own joke.

  “No, actually—” Ford began, but the coroner was moving down the long hallway and gestured for Ford to follow.

  Ford watched as the doctor stopped to take a sip of tea and munch on a biscuit before he led him to the body lying under a sheet.

  “How do you know I came for this one?” Ford asked, not even knowing who was under the sheet.

  The elderly doctor smiled and tapped his head. “Well, for one, she was killed by strangulation. All the other bodies I’ve had recently were natural deaths.”

  Ford nodded in agreement.

  “Two, she’s a foreigner. So I imagine she’s not from around here.”

  “Indeed not,” Ford said, admiring the doctor’s thought process.

  “Here she is.” He pulled back the sheet to reveal Lourdes.

  The red marks around her throat were clear enough and the blade marks across her body revealed the autopsy had been performed. Ford had seen dead bodies before, but the sight of Lourdes lying dead on the table touched something in him.

  “Anything you can tell me?” Ford asked. “I mean other than the obvious.”

  “Nothing that you can’t see for yourself. She died of asphyxiation. Suffocation by strangulation. Straightforward enough.”

  Ford nodded, looking down at the body.

  “Knew her?” the doctor asked.

  “Friend of a friend.”

  “Hmmm. Well, someone strangled her right enough and with large hands, so you are looking for a male. No doubt about that.”

  Ford nodded.

  “Oh, and it seems she put up a struggle. There was skin underneath her fingernails, so the assailant would have marks on his arms.”

  Ford thanked the doctor and turned to leave.

  “One more thing. Probably means nothing to you or anyone else. But she was pregnant. Three months along.”

  Ruby tried to enjoy Regent’s Park, and Bessie tried to engage her, but it was difficult. Her head pounded, and she wondered at what she had done. She had agreed to tell the police that she had been with King all night, and she had, but she felt stupid. Used.

  When the sergeant told her the name of the woman who had been killed, a cold chill had settled over her. Lourdes. The lovely, spirited mistress of King. She knew she had to tell Ford. She had to see him immediately when they returned to the hotel. She would tell him everything, and then they could fix whatever was wrong.

  She nibbled on her thumbnail. What would happen to the tour? They still had to finish their London leg and then move on to Paris. But the more she thought about the inspector and his questions, the more she wondered. Why had King asked her to lie? What was he hiding?

  He had only mentioned an accident, when in truth it was a death. She looked around the lovely park as people passed them by and gentlemen tapped their hats in deference to them. Ladies pushed their baby-filled prams, and the older children skipped and jumped along.

  Everything was so peaceful and cozy, but Ruby was suffocating. King had no right to ask her to lie. If anything, she was angry as well as frightened. He should have told her the truth. His mistress was dead, and he was what? Worried that the police would make a connection and suspect him?

  But already his behavior was suspect. No. She wouldn’t go to Ford. First, she would go to King. She wanted to hear from his own lips why he had not told her the truth. She wanted to know what was going on. It was the least he could do after she had lied to the police inspector.

  She spent another hour with Bessie in the park until the rain started coming down, and they ran to catch a taxicab to take them back to their hotel. Once there, she separated from Bessie and took the taxi to King’s town house in Mayfair.

  She didn’t know what she would say to King once she was face-to-face with him, but she wanted to know the truth. The rain had drenched the streets, and everything was gray and drab. When the taxicab deposited her outside the town house, the sky was darkening. She knocked on the door, and a butler admitted her.

  “I’m here to see Mr. Parker,” she said politely.

  The butler nodded. “Very good, Miss. Let me see if he is available,” he said, showing her into the front parlor.

  Ruby shivered slightly. The rain had been unexpected, and she had not prepared for it and carried no umbrella. She saw from the window the streetlamps in the dreary gray light as she heard the butler’s footsteps recede. He had not asked her name, which she thought odd. She warmed her hands before the fire and tried to frame the words she would say in her mind.

  The dark sky and the rain created an eerie setting for the meeting, she thought. She had been placed inside an old Gothic novel, and all that was needed was a flash of lightning and the appearance of the antagonist.

  When the door opened, King entered the room looking disheveled. Ruby was used to seeing him in pressed pants and fine linen shirts. Now he wore a dressing gown over his wrinkled pants.

  “Oh, Ruby!” he said
quietly when he saw her standing by the window.

  “King.”

  “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, my dear. My butler is new. He didn’t announce you. In fact, he said very little. I didn’t know who to expect. I thought it might have even been the police again.” He moved to his bar and poured himself a drink.

  Ruby watched him, and when he offered her a drink, she declined.

  “Oh, Ruby. The terrible accident. Lourdes has been killed. I’ve been to the morgue to identify her body. I don’t even know why she was here. ”

  Ruby nodded. “I’m very sorry.”

  “Yes. She was so alive one day and then gone the next.” He shook his head. “Tragic.”

  “King, I—”

  “She came to me. Out of the blue. I didn’t invite her to London. I broke it off with her in New York.”

  Ruby said nothing and watched as he gulped down his drink.

  “I settled the town house on her so that she could live a comfortable life. I thought that would ease the parting.” King refilled his glass. “I guess not.”

  “What did she say when she came to see you?” Ruby asked.

  King shook his head. “All sorts of things. That she loved me. That she wanted a life with me. How could I tell her I was in love with someone else? That I was going to marry someone else?” He smiled at Ruby.

  Ruby ignored his words. “What did you say to her?”

  “What could I say? She was past hearing. She followed me to several parties. I attended a ball at Devonshire House. I didn’t see you there, but I heard you sang beautifully.”

  “I glimpsed you once, but then you were lost in the crowd. The king invited me after our opening night.”

  “She was the reason I didn’t stay very long.”

  “No?”

  “No. She followed me, and she had been drinking. She was close to making a scene. I didn’t even know how she got in until later. She had lied and said she was my wife. I took her back to her hotel. She was in a state.”

  “What did you do after?”

  “After?” He seemed confused.

  “Yes. After you took her to the hotel. What did you do then?”