Then, she remembered her promise to Carmella to accompany her on the morrow. “Except for tomorrow morning. I have a previous engagement.” She stared at the door that led to the showroom. Murmurs drifted in from the other side. Was that another male voice in the mix? Maybe William Ash had come to check on his clarinet? If so, she wondered if Nico would mention the Long Bridge discovery to him, the possibility that the body might be Jamie Monroe. It was not a task she wanted to shoulder, telling Jamie’s circle of friends and acquaintances of his possible demise. I am putting the cart before the horse. Nothing need be said until we know whether the victim is Jamie or not.
Inez continued, “I will most likely see a fair number of the regulars today. The theaters and music halls are closed on Mondays, and private fetes are rare the first part of the week. I’ll ask around and do what I can to see if anyone knows a Robert Gallagher.” She fought down a rising tide of panic. “Flo, it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack!”
“I’ll keep my eyes open, too,” Flo promised. “I told Harry that I would promenade around and be on the lookout for him. I have a couple of ideas of places to try. High-class bordellos and such. I do hope he shows up and this nightmare is over soon.”
Inez said, “We need to have a way to get in touch with each other, in case you or I hear of anything. If you must reach me, you can send a runner to the store, but be discreet! I recall from my earlier stay at the Palace that they are part of the telephone exchange, as we are here.”
Inez silently thanked Nico for his fascination with “curiosities” of all kinds, including those of a technological variety. He had had a telephone installed as soon as they became available, although it seldom rang. Occasionally a call came through from a patron asking if Nico was available to perform for such-and-such an event on a particular date. More often, Inez used it to arrange for a Sunday drive to the coast by Point Lobos and Seal Rocks.
“You can use the telephone to ring up the store and say you want to talk further about the lessons. It’s trickier if I need to reach you. I wouldn’t want this de Bruijn or, God forbid, Harry, to intercept a message with my name.”
Inez pondered, then went to her desk and searched for the business card she had in mind. When she found it, she brought it to Flo. “If I need to reach you, I’ll send a boy with a message to the Palace Hotel that this milliner, Mrs. Young, has a hat that she thinks you might like. I would want to know that you indeed received the message. If you send the messenger back with a reply that you hope it is in purple and white, I’ll know all is well and you will come as soon as you can.”
“Purple and white?” Flo made a moue of distaste. “I would never!”
“Exactly. If you include the color pink, I’ll know for some reason you cannot come. And we shall have to try something else.”
Inez paused, thinking. “It might be a good idea for you to visit Mrs. Young’s millinery on your way back to the hotel. Tell her I sent you, and buy a ribbon or something, just so you have actually met her and know where her place is. That way, if I send messages under her name, no one will think twice about it.”
Flo tucked the card in her sleeve and stood.
“Now,” said Inez, “we need to prepare for your exit.” She rummaged through the stack of sheet music on the table, finally choosing “Better Late Than Never,” thinking that the title sounded ominously appropriate.
Inez turned to Flo. “As we head out through the showroom, I will hand you this and suggest that your daughter try this piece, since she enjoys popular music. I will mention that I do not generally go to the homes of my pupils, they usually come here. I will add that we can talk further about it later, and we can set a time when I can come and observe her level of proficiency. That will set things up if you should call and someone else picks up the phone. Deal?”
“Deal.” Flo smiled, a small smile of relief. “Partner.”
Chapter Seven
Following Mrs. Sweet, de Bruijn discovered, had not been difficult.
After a late breakfast in the Palace Hotel’s dining room, she had announced Mr. Gallagher had given her permission to go shopping. He had nodded, and said, of course, Mr. Gallagher had told him.
When, in fact, it was exactly what he had persuaded Mr. Gallagher to do.
De Bruijn settled in the anterior room of the suite and waited until she emerged, ready for the street. He’d accompanied her to the hotel entrance, much to her obvious annoyance. Once there, he had raised his hat in farewell, reminded her she was expected back by the dinner hour, and headed back inside.
At the bell station, he met the bellboy he had made arrangements with earlier. In the luggage room, he traded his black frock coat for a checked sack jacket, his black top hat for a brushed gray derby. He gave the bellboy a generous tip and proceeded to the entrance. A pass of coin from his hand to the doorman yielded not only the direction Mrs. Sweet had gone but an added bonus: she had inquired about the address of a famous millinery not far from the Palace.
He made a few other minor alterations as he walked, donning a pair of tinted spectacles pulled from an inner pocket, smoothing down the slight curl at the ends of his mustache. Mere changes of surface appearance. The trick was to also change the gait, to bring the shoulders in
