6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Keys and Little Stevie Girl

E rnie, the Venus doorman, had a build like a bulldog. Short. Stocky. Thin brown hair he combed straight back, with bushy eyebrows, and an overbite. His appearance had many customers relating Ernie to said canine. He had the identical face of the squatty dog. He always dressed in the latest of the gentlemen’s styles, and rightly so. With the totality of customers being nobility or wealthy businessmen, it behooved him to dress as would the clientele.

Ernie maintained a professional, pleasant, and cordial attitude with the customers, unless or until problems with a customer arose. Then his anthropomorphic description took on even more attributes. Truly a wonder to behold. He would have the troublesome customer out of the main rooms and through the front door before the bulk of the customers had any idea what had occurred.

Ernie always had a smile and a welcome when those well-behaved customers came to the entrance. He held a pleasant opinion regarding the three lords who stepped out of the coach and walked up the steps to the door. “Good evening, my lords, Mr. Stewart. Enjoy yourselves.”

“Thank you, Ernie. Is Martha here?” Ernie knew Frank had spoken with Martha twice since the murder of Glenda. As far as most people were concerned, Frank Stewart was the face of Bow Street.

“Yes, sir. She is in her office. Have one of the floaters take you up.” Ernie nodded, approving Frank’s request. Frank smiled his gratitude, headed toward the game room, and motioned for John to follow.

Henry and Fred entered the bar area. There were tables past the bar for card games and conversation. As they looked around the room, Fred quickly noticed Lord Blackwood sitting with Lord Duff at their regular table; cards in Blackwood’s hands. He shuffled them back and forth. Blackwood smiled at Fredrick as he saw him coming into the room. “Gentlemen, please come and sit. Please continue to observe Martin’s customary bribe.”

He laid the cards face down on the table. “It is greatly appreciated. Remember, Duff and I are among the proletariat.” Blackwood winked at Duff and slammed his hands down on the table. Lord Blackwood was a handsome man. Always looked dignified, yet had a mischievous side to him, and a rather good sense of humor. Fred estimated he knocked on late thirty in years. Still had thick black, wavy hair, and a physique to rival any twenty-year-old.

“Excuse me, it seems to me, I recall reading somewhere about one particular lord of the realm being one of the top ten wealthiest nobles in England. Proletariat, my arse.” Fred squeezed Stephen’s shoulder and snickered.

“I’m almost positive it could not be me. I’m almost sure.” Blackwood shrugged but his smile betrayed his lie. Fred and Henry sat down. Blackwood looked around for the new bar wench.

“I miss the little bar wench who always waited on us. We teased the hell out of her. She certainly had the most daring behavior as she worked you youngsters. But you know, she practically lived here. I bet she never missed a day. Many times I would see her working at odd hours and would ask her, ‘Don’t you ever go home?’ and she would say the more hours she could work, the more money she could make. She was a good bar wench. Always knew what we wanted.”

He looked at Fred, with a melancholy smile, then slammed his hands on the table. “Where is the new bar wench? We need scotch.” He had a scowl as he shook his head. “Where does one find a good bar wench?”

“Blackwood, I’m amazed they serve you at all. You are much too demonstrative for the delicate ears of a doxy.” Michael Duff chuckled. Finally, a short, thin-looking woman, looking more boyish in her person, came to the table.

“I think you always order scotch, right?” She appeared meek. She would never last.

“Yes, my dear. And the same for my Lord underlings.” Blackwood, in his blithe disposition.

“Miss? Please bring a bottle of scotch for the table.” Fred gave the new bar wench a wink, then thought about Glenda and wished he had been more polite.

“Now, who is in for cards? Duff and I finished kicking a couple of underlings’ arses minutes ago. We are ready for a second round. Correct, Lord Duff?”

“Indubitably, Lord Blackwood. We are playing whist, so shall we draw for the dealer and partners? Low card is the dealer, highest cards are partners?”

“Sounds fair to me. Shuffle the cards, Lord Blackwood.” Fred had played rarely of late, but Martin and he were two of the best whist players around. They drew for dealer. “Hey, what luck! I’m the dealer. Look out, gentlemen!” Fred would deal.

They drew for high cards. “It looks like it is Lord Fredrick with me. I think we have a good chance to smoke them, my lord.” Blackwood whistled. “We have won the game already.”

“Shall we begin and see who is boasting when we are done.” Duff gave Blackwood a grin.

All the cards were dealt; the last card went to the dealer, Fredrick, who determined the suite. “Aha! A two of hearts. Gentlemen. It is hearts.” And the game began.

Blackwood and Windham had won two out of three games when Henry and Fred saw Blackwood’s eyes pop as Fred heard footfalls behind him. “So how are you, Mr. Stewart? Working on another case?” Blackwood liked Stewart. He appreciated his kindness when Stewart, Fred, and he went to speak with Blackwood’s best friend, Lord Aubyn. Aubyn and Blackwood had been friends for decades, and Blackwood never once suspected Aubyn had killed and kidnapped; all for some delusional obsession over Lady Marie McDonnell, Muriel’s mother. As it ended, Aubyn shot himself.

“I’m working with these rounders on something.” Frank took a chair from another table and scooted up.

“You two are going to have to get your glasses. And we are about out of scotch. As you can see, we are trouncing Duff and this gentleman.” Blackwood gave Henry a look which could have turned him to stone. Blackwood cared not at all for Lord Addams.

“Before you start the next round, we need to leave. I have a flat I need to go by. You can take me by on the way back to your townhouse, yes?”

Fred looked at Frank. He understood John and Frank must have gotten something from Martha. “It would be my pleasure. I’m going nowhere tomorrow.”

“Gentlemen, you,” Blackwood pointed at Henry, “and my friend Duff owe us all drinks next time.”

“That sounds fair to me.” Fred agreed. He swallowed down the last of his scotch as he stood. “We can take this up again any time you wish, my lords.” Fred bowed to the table.

“Absolutely.” Agreed Duff. “I need to find another partner, then I will show you how you play the game.” He slapped Blackwood on the back. Blackwood responded with a grimace.

Blackwood spoke up before the gentlemen left. “Gentleman, don’t look for me for the next few days. I’m going to my estate in Buck Horn Oak. It is a beautiful area. And hardly any humans or young bucks to pester a person who is already pestered by the Cobra Queen.” Blackwood got tickled – rather loudly. He enjoyed his own humor.

“Enjoy your solitude. In Buck Horn.” Henry made an exaggerated bow and swaggered out of the cardroom.

“Good night, my lords.” Frank bowed as well. Then the four walked to the door. Whatever they found out from Martha resulted in Frank being more than anxious to leave.

As the four were on their way out, Fred leaned into Frank and quietly asked. “Well, Did you get anything new from Martha?” Fred knew there had to be new information.

Frank pulled a key from his waistcoat pocket and waved it. Frank’s eyes lit up as he spoke. “I have the key to Glenda’s flat with the address. I would say, this," as he dangled the key, "is a bit of luck.”

Letters and a Gown

“For heaven's sake. Looks to me like you struck gold, my man.” Fred could hardly wait to get into the coach to get the details from Frank and John. “What address shall I give to Max?”

“I think it would be best to pull out of the lot and ride a few blocks, then have Max stop.” Frank’s background had instilled steps of precaution lest someone be interested in following.

“I understand. I will tell Max.” Fred gave Frank a nod. As the other three entered the coach, Fred spoke briefly to Max, then made his way into the coach. “Now, please tell all of your conversations with Martha.”

John spoke up. “As soon as she led us into her private quarters, which are quite lavish, by the way, she sat down, reached over, and handed Frank a key.”

Frank continued. “She told us Glenda had been trying to help a woman by the name of Lucinda acquire a job at Venus . Lucinda had not seen Glenda in days. She was accustomed to seeing Glenda at least a few times a week. When Martha told Lucinda about Glenda having been murdered, Lucinda was quite shaken. Martha gave her a handkerchief and a snifter of brandy. After a few minutes, she seemed to calm down a little. Lucinda said Glenda seemed to have been worried the last few days she had seen her. The last day Lucinda saw her, Glenda had given her the key to her flat. It seemed foreboding. She told Lucinda if anything happened to her, Lucinda needed to go and get a box from under her bed and any pictures. Oh, yes, and a gown hanging in her armoire. Lucinda, too afraid to go into the flat, gave the key to Martha. She told Lucinda she would take care of it. Lucinda then asked if she had been considered for a position with Venus . Martha told Lucinda that she would give her a two-week temporary position to assess whether Lucinda would be a good fit.” He blew out a heavy breath. “I don’t know how Martha can do what she does for a living.”

“What are you talking about?” Frank visibly tensed when Henry asked. The last portion of their conversation with Martha had nothing to do with solving the Glenda puzzle, but it provided some insight into what the women had to endure even before being hired. John shivered as he made a ‘ugh’ sound.

The coach stopped. “Frank, you need to get out and tell Max the address.” Fred nudged Frank over.

“Right.” Frank stepped out long enough to speak with the coachman. As he stepped back into the cabin he informed the others. “Corner of Stanhope Street and Clare Market. She rented a room on the second floor. I’m curious about the box under the bed.”

“You won’t be curious much longer. Max is pulling up to the house as I speak.” Fred wanted to get a better look into the life Glenda led. He hoped to find something to lead him to Glenda’s daughter. Glenda’s dying words haunted Fredrick. It had been over a sennight and they had no leads. He hoped her flat would provide the answers.

Max stepped down from the coachman’s seat and opened the door for the four gentlemen to step out. “I have no idea how long we will be.” Fred threw over his shoulder as they all walked to the front door.

“We had better be quiet. We have no idea who else lives here. We don’t need anyone snooping around or asking questions about us being in Glenda’s flat.” Frank, always the detective. He was right, of course. They needed no prying eyes.

Frank led the way as the four went up the squeaking stairs to the second floor. Glenda’s room was the last door on the right. Frank put the key in the lock, then looked back at the other's faces as the door opened. “God only knows what we will find,” Frank said in a whisper, “but whatever we do, we need to use our theatre voices.” He looked at the three. They nodded in agreement. “It is much too dark in here. We need to feel around for a lantern.”

“I found one in the kitchen,” Henry whispered. “There is nothing I can find to light it.”

“Go downstairs, quietly, and light it with the headlamps.” Frank directed. Henry walked out the door. While they waited for Henry to return, their eyes were adjusting to the darkness in the room. They thought the room appeared scant. Pitiful. They heard Henry coming back.

“Now we can see. You can thank me later.” Henry said in jest.

It appeared to be one room with a cut-in between the main room and the bedchamber. It had very little in it. Glenda had a threadbare couch with a rough-looking side table.

They looked around for any personal items, finding nothing until John walked to a back window. It had a cheap, worn, sheer curtain. “There is something on the ledge out there.” John pulled up the sash to see wrapped sausage and bread. “I guess it is as good a place as any to keep your food from spoiling.” He quipped. “As long as it is cold outside.” John closed the window. “A rather sad existence. Can you imagine being so poor all you had to eat…” John had to clear his throat. “ …only sausage and bread?”

“I failed to mention some scruffy-looking fellows were walking around outside. We need to get to our task and get out of here.”

Fred looked under the bed. “I see a fairly large-sized box.” He pulled the box out, sat down on the edge of the bed, and opened the box. He dipped his hand down into it. “There must be hundreds of letters in this box.” He looked up at Frank.

“We need to go back to your townhouse, split the letters up, and see if we can find anything leading us to either Glenda’s daughter or this ‘S L B’ person, if it is a person.” John encouraged them along.

“Did any of you look in her armoire to see if the gown or anything else of import might be in there? We need to get the gown Glenda asked Lucinda to retrieve.” Frank crossed the small room to open the armoire.

“I can look.” Henry opened the door to the little armoire. There were three rather worn, black gowns and a beautifully designed, new evening gown. “My God. I recognize these black gowns. Look at this, Fred.” Fred and Henry were the only two who had been serviced by Glenda.

“Yes, poor woman.” Fred motioned his hand for Henry to get the evening gown out. “I want to see it.” When Henry pulled it out of the armoire, the three dropped their jaws. “How in the hell? Who in the hell?”

John stepped forward and touched the silk material. “This gown was not made for Glenda. I recall her as taller and a bit heavier. Am I right?” John looked to Fred.

“I would say you are correct.” Then Fred walked forward to get a closer look. “It looks brand new.” He felt the material. “I think we need to make a quick scan of the place, see if there is anything else to help us, then get the hell out of here. I want to get a closer look at this dress. I’m sure it is quite expensive.”

“The gown should provide us with a good lead,” Frank spoke with confidence. The gown could be a very good lead. “Any designer this skilled would stitch their name on the inside of the gown somewhere.”

“Frank, you learned dress design while investigating?” Fred teased him.

“I’m sworn to secrecy.” Frank raised his right hand as he spoke.

“Oh, boy. Come on, we need to go. People will be wondering why such a coach would be on this street.” Concern for the coach or Max would be last on Fred’s list of worries. Max had a build only a bit smaller than Daniel and was probably meaner.

“Wait, there is a picture frame behind the end table. I will take it. One never knows.” John had that keen eye.

Frank let everyone else out. He locked the door, and the men quickly moved down the stairs and out the front door with their collection.

They found Max leaning against the coach door. “I wondered when you were coming back. I had a few too many wastrels walking by and admiring the equipage. I could take two or three, but…”

“Sorry, Max. We had certain things to look for.” Fred left the explanation simple.

They entered the cabin and talked about the look of the little flat where Glenda lived. Frank wondered how she got to work daily. The distance, much too far for her to walk. If she hired a hackney daily, it would be expensive. Frank thought he might check into some of the hackneys around Venus , and find out if perhaps Glenda had worked some kind of deal with a jarvey. If so, she might have spent the ride talking with him. Another good lead.

Once they arrived at Fred’s townhouse, welcomed by Mr. Winston, they went into the study, sat down at the table, and Fred began to dole out the letters. John still had the evening gown. “I need more light. I want to look over this gown and see if I can find the modiste’s name.” Fred picked up the lamp from the desk and set it down close to John.

Fred rang the bell from the table. “Yes, my lord.” Daniel looked more like he could have been one of those huge Vikings from back in the day when they roamed the English coast.

“We need more light in here. Could you light the sconces. Lower the chandelier and light it as well. I think we are going to be in here for a while.”

“Yes, my lord. Right away. Might I get you liquor and something to eat?”

“Yes, perfect. Bring two bottles of scotch and glasses first. Priorities!” Fred saw their eyes light up as they nodded their heads in agreement.

Henry raised his hand, pointed his finger, and called out. “Of course, it matters not one whit we can’t read a damn thing without light. Get the liquor.”

Daniel brought the salver with the liquor and glasses. He had a few spills in his hand, started one in the fireplace, went around, lit the sconces, then lowered the chandelier, and lit the tapers. “Will that be all, my lord?”

“The food?” Fred asked.

“It is being prepared as we speak, my lord. I shall bring it in as soon as Cook is done.”

“Alright, Daniel.” Fred picked up a few letters from his pile. “If we hope to get any sleep at all, we best get started on these.”

Fred opened the first letter. “This one is addressed ‘in care of Mr. Thistlewood, London, England.’ It reads, ‘Dear Papa.’ The writing is not too good. More like a small child. You think the daughter has developmental issues? It is signed ‘Stevie’. Stevie? What the hell kind of name is Stevie?”

John opened his. “This one says, ‘Dear Papa.’ It is written well. It talks about her classes and what she is learning. She wishes he would come to see her. She wrote she thought she had been small, the last time she saw him.” He looked up at the three. “I hope the rest of the letters are not like this. I don’t think I can bear to read them. This is heartbreaking.” John put the letter down and stared at it.

“She is asking to meet him,” Henry added. “This letter is more like Fred’s, written like a little child. It says, ‘I love you, Papa. I wish you would come and see me.’ Oh, God, I don’t think I can read more of these either; not if they are all like this.” Henry pushed the letter aside.

“Someone has to read them. This is too difficult for one person.” Fred’s heart already breaking for this Little Stevie girl.

“Well, keep reading. There has to be something.” Frank encouraged them. “Here. She writes Papa’s secretary; Mr. Thistlewood, brought her three new dresses. She thanked him for being so generous. She wrote,” Frank blew out a breath, ‘I wish you could see me in my new dresses. Most of the girls have parents that come to see them and they go away for the holidays. It would make me so happy if one day you would come to get me. I would be good.’” Frank stopped and looked away from the table. “Reading these is more than difficult. It is terribly sad. This poor Little Stevie girl. Jesus, whoever this ‘Papa’ is, ought to be tied up and beaten half to death. This poor little thing sits by herself over the holidays? What kind of monster would do such a thing?” Frank stood and walked around the room before he returned to sit back down.

“A monster, Frank, is who. But something doesn't feel right. Why does Glenda have all the letters if she is writing them to Papa? Unless…Glenda is Papa. So where does this Thistlewood person fit in?” John probably had the right of it. Glenda had to be Papa.

“So, if the letters are addressed to Mr. Thistlewood and little Stevie mentioned he is ‘Papa’s’ secretary, then how did Glenda end up with the letters?” Henry had a good point.

Daniel returned with a salver of food, plates, and serviettes. “Set them on the desk for now, Daniel.”

“Yes, my lord. Will there be anything else?”

“No, thank you, Daniel.”

“If Glenda got the letters, I would bet, if I bet at all, she picked up the letters at the post office. Anyone can send a letter to general delivery. And, looking at all these letters, Glenda had to have some kind of relationship with the postal workers.” John suggested.

“London only has two post offices, correct? I’m asking. I’m not sure.” Henry had a good question.

“Oh, John – you forgot to look at the gown.” Fred reminded him.

“Right.” John stood and picked the gown up from the couch. He unbuttoned the back. “The young lady must be small and buxom. I love her already.” He looked at the three still sitting and gave a big smile. “Madame Green, Modiste.” He buttoned the gown back up and set it back on the couch. “How many modistes are in London? Dozens?” John asked.

“I think I know where she is. Remember Martin searched all over Town for Lady Muriel? Martin found out Muriel’s family was having a tough time financially since Lord McDonnell died suddenly. So, being Martin, he went to this shop in Piccadilly and ordered Muriel all kinds of clothes and gowns. I think the shop belonged to Madame Green.” Fred cocked his head. “Good heavens, we need to make a list of all these leads we need to follow up on.” Fred walked over and picked up a writing utensil from the desk. “Where do we start? There is the Jarvey, the modiste, the postal worker, Thistlewood, and all these letters. Who wants to do what?” Fred had to remember his friends were volunteering their time. “If you don’t have the time, I completely understand. This is my commitment. I’m simply grateful the horsemen came and helped me up to now.”

“What is this? My mother tries to pull this tactic on me to do her bidding. You are being ridiculous. I’m in. I don’t understand why you thought anything else. I will take Madame Green, to start.” John emphatic. “All for one.”

“I think I can go to the post office in London. I would think it would be the office she would go to unless Penny Post received the letters, but I doubt it.” Frank volunteered for the postal job. “I can act officially; in case they are hesitant to assist. I can also go to Bow Street. Go through the files looking for this Thistlewood. He must be a real person. Little Stevie girl spoke of him.” They looked at each other. A nervous laugh escaped them. “Little Stevie girl.”

“Frank, did you mention the name Martha gave you? Remember? When the lady came looking for Glenda? She said something about it would not bode well for…what name did she say?”

“Oh…yes – uh. Something like Stevivia – Stevenia – hell, some strange-sounding name. I have never heard it before.” Frank picked up another letter as he spoke.

“Well, I suppose we can keep her name on the back burner, so to speak. Moving on.” Fred remarked. “I will take the jarvey and the letters.” Fred thought he should take the bulk of the work. “While we are at it, I must go to Newmarket, to the family horse farm. It has been months since I visited there and foals should be dropping. I need to inspect the yearlings to see which would be future studs or racing horses. I should be there for only two days. But I must go. The first race of the season is around the corner and my horse is in the running. My handsome Hambletonian . And I’m hoping to collect my winnings.” Fred rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“I thought you should have held onto Hambletonian – what a beauty. But if you get a cut from his winnings, you should do well. Such a horse must be a winner.” John loved going to Fred’s horse farm.

“This is a coincidence; I have a private investigation. It should take me two or three days. It won’t take more than a few minutes to go to the post office and find the worker who dealt with Glenda, otherwise, I will be working on the other investigation. So your being gone works out for me.” Frank was glad not to disappoint.

“It gives me enough time to catch up on my mounds of paperwork. I have some new liquor distributors on the continent who wish to export. This will give me time to do the cost analysis of the goods. See if it would be profitable.”

“Well, it leaves me and I have nothing on my agenda, but I would love to go with you to your horse farm if you don’t mind the company.” Henry had never had the pleasure and he had wanted to go before but could never go when Fred went.

“So, tomorrow is the first after-spring ball. It is an annual event Lord Walpole hosts. He has an elaborate walking garden. Lovely. Nice for a walk in the dark. Only to cool off, I’m sure you would all agree.” Fred gave them all an exaggerated wink.

“I must admit, I have never been to a ball, but I have done my fair share of taking walks in the dark. As you said, to cool off.” Frank gave a thumbs up. “That reminds me of Muriel. Fred, do you remember when we were at Martin’s house and I asked her questions about the man who had tried to abduct her on the terrace at the ball?“

Fred chuckled. “Yes, and out of the blue, she asks Frank, ‘Why are you not married?’”

Frank shook his head, slapped his leg, and laughed as he recalled the conversation. “I thought to myself, what exactly happened here? She is strange. Funny and beautiful, but strange.”

“We can all attest to her oddities.” John joined in the humor over Muriel’s quirks.

“Alright, we have our assignments. Henry, would you like to ride with me tomorrow to the Walpole’s?” Fred offered. "That way you ride back with me and stay overnight so we can get an early start,” Fred explained.

Jonathan shook his head in disgust. “We attended a ball only yesterday. Another one tomorrow? Do they ever get tired of all this falderal? No. I don’t intend to stay until the ball is over. What time will you be going?” He did not appear to be too enthusiastic.

“I think around ten o’clock." Fred looked around. They all looked tired. “Everyone rode horseback so I will get Billy to prepare them for your exit.” He rang the tablebell. Daniel entered.

“Shall I speak with Billy, my lord?” Daniel continued to develop all the skills necessary to obtain a position as a butler. He had all the assets needed for him to leave the Windham fold. But Fred would hang on to him; find a butler’s position at one of his other properties. But not now. Fred thought Daniel was much too valuable to lose.

“I think we have covered all the bases. I think what I will do is go through these letters. They span for at least ten or twelve years. Just an estimate. What I can do is separate them by her writing style. See if she makes any reference to where she might be. If she mentions where she is in the more recent letters, all we or I have to do is go and get her. I fear it will not be easy. We can pray.” Fred leaned back and blew out a breath. They were at an impasse, but at least now they had leads. “Shall we have another drink and dig into this food? ”

“I say yes!” Henry rubbed his hands together. His stomach told him he needed to eat. And a drink or two would never hurt.

“I’m in.” voiced Frank.

“Well, I guess I will make it unanimous.” John smiled. “Pass the scotch. This scotch is really good.” John, typically not a silly person, gave a silly smile as he held the scotch bottle to the side of his face with a silly smile.

“You had better say so! You are the distributor.” Fred needled him. “Do you honestly need to promote the brand here?”

Fred rang the table bell. Daniel entered. “Daniel I need you to tell – “

Daniel interjected. “I have told Billy to hold off on saddling the horses, my lord.”

“Thank you, Daniel.” Yes, much too valuable to lose.

They drank and ate until the wee hours of the morning. Then Fred had Max take them all to their homes.