Читать книгу Lady Alkmene Collection: Four fabulous 1920s murder mysteries you won’t want to miss! - Vivian Conroy - Страница 24

Chapter Thirteen

Evelyn Steinbeck took a deep shuddering breath. ‘Talking about being in the wrong place at the wrong time…’ She laughed softly. ‘That was the whole thing. They assured me there would be no risk to this job. No risk!’

She leaned back and twisted the narrow gold band on her finger. ‘I am really Evelyn Steinbeck and I really am an actress from New York City. The Broadway bit is overdone. I have never been in a big show. I used to perform in small theatres in those plays where you never know if they are going to earn out and you get paid, or they have to close after a few nights and you are left with little for your trouble.’

Alkmene was sure Evelyn was only saying this to gain sympathy and hoped Jake was not falling for it. His expression didn’t betray anything as he listened, his posture perfectly relaxed.

Evelyn Steinbeck continued, ‘I was performing in such a small production one night when a man approached me after the show. He said I was perfect for a part he wanted me to play. I thought at first it was on the stage, in another town maybe, but he explained it was something a bit different, with a matching price attached.’

She inhaled slowly, staring into the distance as if she saw the scene again, herself and the man on that fateful night. ‘I had to travel to England as soon as possible and pretend to be niece to some rich man. It seemed he was obsessed with finding family. If I just pretended to be the family he had wanted to find, he would be happy and I would inherit his fortune. I was a little doubtful about the legality of the thing, but the man assured me that it would be fine and nobody would be hurt by it. As the rich man had no family, his fortune would have gone to the crown and like he said, the crown was rich enough. That made a lot of sense to me.’

She reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

As if on cue Jake produced a lighter and gave her fire. She smiled briefly at him.

Alkmene suppressed an impatient sigh.

Evelyn exhaled a long draught of smoke. She manipulated the cigarette in her hand. ‘The other actors weren’t happy that I quit the play like that, but I didn’t care. It was a condition that I had to leave at once, get on the first boat that left for England. Everything was prepared. I came here and I was produced to the old man. That was what he called it: produced. Like a rabbit from a magician’s hat, you know.’

She laughed softly. ‘The old man was surprised of course, but happy. He seemed especially impressed with a likeness he saw about me, someone I made him think of. He was sentimental, called me his dear and…’

She tipped off ashes, a little wild. ‘I guess I felt sorry for him sometimes, you know, duping him and all. Pretending to be his long-lost niece that he was so fond of. But life was fine here really. I was an heiress now, and people all wanted to know me. No more auditions for bit parts, no more plays closing on me before I had had a chance to shine. No, instead I went to parties every night, drank fine champagne, had men dying to dance with me. It was kind of funny how much a little change of environment can do for a girl.’

Alkmene wanted to know who the fellow was – the one who had asked her to marry him behind the screen, but it seemed better not to break the flow of the story now. She had to remember to ask the question later, when Evelyn was done.

Evelyn smoked without saying anything for a few minutes, then continued, ‘I was about settled into my part, doing my bit of being American… I make a big deal of my accent, you know, because people seem to like it. Truth is, I don’t talk that differently from the way you do. My mother was British for real. But the accent became part of the deal. The old man adored me, showing me off and… I tried not to think about the lies. I sort of started believing I really was his niece.’

She sighed. ‘Then one night at the theatre this man came into our box. He said that of all the injustices done to his mother this was the worst of all. That he was denied and exchanged for another. Openly. Silas was very upset upon seeing him, but they stepped outside to argue further. I was backwards in my seat to follow the discussion but with the singing going on onstage it was hard to hear much.’

Her fine eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘I do think Silas agreed to something for he came back muttering: that should settle it, settle it for once and all. He was distracted all night and the days afterwards. He went to see his lawyer a few times.’

‘Mr Pemboldt?’ Jake asked, and Evelyn nodded.

She said, ‘I think they argued too, for he came back from those meetings all red in the face and shouting at everybody, even me. He didn’t care that I had no idea what it was all about. I tried to ask him, but he just shooed me away. He even seemed to turn colder towards me, like…he had somehow found out I was a fake. I started to get a bit worried that I would be in trouble for having impersonated someone. That I might be better off going back to the States, before I got in any deeper. Then the night came that he died. I was out to a concert, honestly. I have no idea what happened there. I only heard in the morning that he was dead. I left the house at once because I didn’t want to live there any more. I felt like it was somehow my fault that…’

She wet her lips.

Looking up at Jake, she said, ‘I guess I will just go back to America and not ask for any money from his estate. After all, I never really was his niece. But the odd thing is, when I said that, they didn’t want to accept it. They are dead set on continuing the act. I don’t want the money any more, but they do. They even threatened me that if I told the truth to anyone, I would end up in jail.’ She leaned over the table to Jake, her eyes wide. ‘Can they really put me there?’

Jake frowned. ‘I suppose that by “they” you mean the people who hired you to play Norwhich’s niece?’

She nodded. ‘I thought they would agree that I had better leave now that Mr Norwhich is dead. They cannot touch me back in America. I would not even go back to New York City. I would try another city – easy enough if they gave me some money. But he yelled at me that it was even more pertinent now that I played the part and did it well. He was out of his mind.’

‘He?’ Jake queried. He leaned closer and touched her hand.

Alkmene cringed at the move, but supposed it was part of his game to win the girl’s trust. As a reporter he probably had few qualms about applying tactics to get information. Play the nice, concerned semi-friend. All tricks of the trade…

Evelyn looked up at Jake, her lips wobbling. Her mascara was a little smudged, as if she had blinked back tears during her story. ‘If I tell you, he will be so mad at me.’

‘I already know too much. I could go to the papers anyway and…’

‘You told me you would not.’ Evelyn tried to snatch back her hand from under his grasp, but Jake tightened it.

Her face went pale, either with shock or pain from the pressure applied.

Jake said, ‘I owe you nothing, but I do owe my friend a great deal. Now tell me who the man is – the man who put you up to all of this.’

Evelyn swallowed audibly. Then she said in a whisper, ‘Mr Pemboldt. Silas Norwhich’s lawyer.’