Page 43 of Daredevil Lady and the Mysterious Millionaire (The Hidden Hearts Collection #3)
He felt a wild urge to deny all knowledge of any of it. But he brought himself up short. There was no reason he should lie, not to her. Damnation, sometimes he acted like he was half-afraid of the woman.
Taking a large gulp of his brandy, he hunched his shoulders in a posture of assumed carelessness. “I took a gamble that I could deal with our little problem regarding Mr. Addison. I almost pulled it off, but my plans went slightly awry.”
Her finely chiseled nostrils flared. “Your plans? What business had you to be making any plans?”
“Well, damn it. Something had to be done and you seemed to be doing precious little. I warned you how close Addison was getting. He called a press conference the other day. He had evidence pointing to ‘that respected member’ of society who owned a chain of brothels and sweatshops in the East End, who had been paying off the police, skimming from the city treasury to keep the operations running. That all points to me, Cynthia.”
“So it does, my dear Charles.”
“You needn’t think you would have stayed in the clear for long either, partner. I tell you, Addison was getting close to uncovering everything.”
“So you had Addison murdered. Brilliant, Charles. What a perfect way to turn an insignificant reformer into a martyr, to lend credence to what otherwise could have been dismissed as wild accusations.”
Decker flinched under her biting tone, wishing she would sit down, stop hovering above him that way, making him feel like an errant schoolboy called to account before the stern headmistress.
“You fool!” she said. “Didn’t you stop to think that the investigation into Addison’s death will only raise more questions, make everything twice as bad?”
Decker took another pull at his drink. “That was the cleverness of my plan. There wasn’t to have been any investigation because his killer was supposed to have been caught on the scene.
That’s why I had Morrison kidnapped as well.
If Addison were killed in some sordid brothel fight by Morrison, that would discredit both of them. ”
“And you expected John Morrison to oblige you by confessing to this crime?”
“No, I expected him to be shot, escaping from the police.”
She received his words with a frozen stillness, her facial muscles pulled taut. Nothing moved but her eyes, which glinted strangely.
“I believe,” she said quietly, “that I had intimated to you that I had plans of my own for Mr. Morrison.”
Decker squirmed, but he mustered enough belligerence to say, “So you did. But you never chose to confide in me what those plans were. I never have been able to fathom your interest in that underbred ruffian, all muscle and flashing teeth, his only intelligence in his fists.”
“You shouldn’t underestimate John Morrison, Charles. That mistake already appears likely to cost you.”
“Humph, the way you talk about him, sometimes I’ve wondered if you haven’t been planning to marry the fellow.”
When she made no effort to deny his charge, he continued to goad her. “Is that it, Cynthia? You were ever were a greedy wench. Attracted by the prospect of marrying all those millions? Well, you should take more interest in safeguarding the investments you’ve already got.”
She paced across the room, thrusting her hands deep into the pockets of her cloak. “I didn’t think my investments were in jeopardy until you made this stupid blunder. I told you that I would take care of Mr. Addison, and manage Mr. Morrison as well. You should have waited, Charles.”
“Ha!” Fortified by the brandy coursing through his veins, Decker grew reckless.
“You’ve never been much good at managing the men in your life.
It’s well known that old Van Hallsburg had more chambermaids in his bed than he had making it.
And as for your brother, Stephen, his peccadilloes are legend. ”
She whipped back to face him. “Take care what you say about my brother, Charles.”
He should have held his tongue, but he took a certain satisfaction at chipping away some of her icy facade. It soothed the wounds she had dealt to his self-esteem.
“Not the cleverest boy, your brother, Stephen,” he said. “Always fancying himself in love with some opera girl. I’ve heard tell half the orphanages in New York are populated with his bastards.”
“You are changing the subject, Charles. This has nothing to do with your present folly. Your current state of panic has rendered you very undependable, in fact quite a liability to me.”
A liability to her? That was rich, considering it had been he who had included her in the scheme of buying up property cheap on the East Side, forming a lucrative chain of brothels and gaming salons, using his political influence to protect the operations.
She would have been nowhere without him.
He knew full well how her brother, Stephen, had squandered all the family money, how old Van Hallsburg had never been as wealthy as everyone supposed.
“What are you trying to tell me, Cynthia?” he demanded. “That you want to dissolve our partnership?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I wish.”
“That’s fine with me. I’ll buy you out, write you a check this very night.” Yanking open the desk drawer, he drew forth his checkbook. His hands were shaking so badly with suppressed fury, he nearly dumped over the inkstand as he dipped his pen into it.
“But it’s going to be at a price I name,” he warned. As he started to write the check, he hesitated. He was acting out of anger and wounded pride. The partnership they had shared was one of such long duration and so lucrative, he couldn’t believe she would let it end this way.
When she glided up behind him, he thought she meant to reach down to his hand, guiding the pen over the check and stop him.
But she only murmured, “No, Charles. I fear it is I who must decide the price.”
He started to look up and felt something cold and hard, pressed against his temple. Before he could move or cry out, a loud report echoed through the room.
Decker’s head jerked back. He sagged in his chair, a trickle of crimson spilling down his cheek, his eyes frozen in an expression of surprise.
Cynthia Van Hallsburg didn’t spare him a glance. She stared down at the smoking derringer in her hand and her lips thinned with annoyance.
She had gotten blood on her gloves.