A Matter of Marriage (21 page)

“I
prefer to stay here,” she answered, “and I enjoy managing the Hotel Grand
Victoria.”

“Then
that brings us to option number two, in which we form a partnership. I will pay
off the balance of your loan, and we can go into business together.”

Once
again, he was trying to get his hands on her home, but without him, she might
very well lose it. “I don’t particularly like that option either.”

He
placed his forearms on his thighs and clasped his hands. “It’s a good option.
You’d be free to continue in your role as manager for as long as you wished. In
the months I’ve been watching you, despite your sex and society’s general
opinion of what a woman can and cannot do, I have learned you are an efficient
and effective manager. I believe you take after our father as well.”

Our
father
. That would take
some getting used to. She appreciated Tyler’s compliment, though, and felt
warmed by his belief in her. He recognized her abilities, seeing what her
father never could.

Alex
covered her hand with his. “Julia, with the second option, you’d be losing
nothing.”

“But
I’d be gaining a partner I barely know.” Tyler was a man accustomed to being in
control, and he’d probably question her decisions or interfere with her way of
doing things. She wasn’t ready to give in to him yet. “Is there a third option?”

“There
is.” Tyler straightened. “I have persuaded the board of directors at First
California to give you an additional month to pay them. You can, therefore,
continue your attempts to get a new loan from another institution.”

She
opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“That
was generous of you,” Alex said, his hand squeezing hers.

“Yes,”
she finally managed, wondering what kind of persuasion he had used on the
bank’s directors. She decided she would rather not know. “Thank you, Tyler. I’ll take the third option.”

He
chuckled. “I thought you might. If, however, you change your mind at any time,
let me know. The other offers will stand.”

“I’ll
keep them in mind and, if necessary, contact you in Boston. You’ve been away
from your business interests so long I’m sure they must be in need of your
personal attention.”

He
laughed, stood up, and fastened his jacket. “My dear Julia, you’re not going to
get rid of me that easy. You have an older brother now, and older brothers are
supposed to look out for their younger siblings, especially their sisters.” His
expression turned serious. “I'm not going anywhere until whoever shot you is
captured.”

She
swallowed a moan.

Alex
got up and held his hand out to Tyler. “Welcome aboard, Wolff.” They shook
hands. “Any help you can give would be appreciated.”

“I’ll
move into the Hotel Grand Victoria this afternoon,” he said.

Julia
sank deeper into the sofa. Her new-found brother was here to stay.

*   *   *

“Alex,
I really ought to do my evening rounds,” she said, getting up from the table
and placing her dinner dishes on the waiter’s tray for collection. “As you well
know, I need to check on things. I only left my office once this afternoon.”

He
added his dishes to the tray. “No, you are not going anywhere.” He wasn’t about
to let her put herself in danger again. “You’re safe here.”

“But
whoever is doing this won’t know that I’m going now. I’m not responding to any
notes.”

“Doesn’t
matter. You’re a target.” And Julia was his wife. Alex wanted her around for a
long time. Last night’s blissful hours of lovemaking were only the beginning. “Someone
is still watching, and we have to take every precaution.”

A
knock on the door made them exchange wary looks. Their visitor couldn’t be the
waiter. They hadn’t pressed the annunciator calling for him yet. And Alex knew Tyler had returned to San Diego for a dinner engagement.

“I’ll
get it.” He strode across the sitting room and leaned against the door. “Who’s
there?”

“Harold
Dolan,” came the doctor’s familiar voice.

Alex
slowly opened the door, careful to check the hallway for anyone else. No one
leaped out from around the corner, and he let the doctor pass. “Come in.”

“Dr.
Dolan,” Julia said, stepping forward as Alex locked the door, “I didn’t expect
to see you this evening.”

“I
know, but I wanted to save you another trip to my office.” He carried his
medical bag. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to accommodate you this afternoon. Mary
told me you and Alex came by.”

“That’s
all right,” she said. “You were busy with guests, and they come first.”

“Yes,
there was quite a line of them waiting to see me.” His cheeks puffed as he blew
out a breath. “Sunburn, scraped knees, and stomach ailments from overindulging
in the dining room. Vacation complaints do add up.” He yawned. “All is well
now, though, and I’m here to inspect your wound. I’ll change the dressing if
necessary.”

“I
appreciate your concern and diligence, Doctor, but you must be exhausted. Can
it wait until tomorrow?”

“It
could, but I’d feel more at ease once I’ve determined there’s no infection
setting in.”

Alex
put his arm around her shoulders. “By all means, Doc, take a look at it and do
whatever you have to.”

She
sighed. “I’ll go loosen my clothes in the bedroom and call you when I’m ready.”
She turned to Alex, peering up at him with a beseeching look. “Would you please
check on things downstairs for me?”

“I’d
rather stay here and keep an eye on you.”

“I
will be perfectly safe with Dr. Dolan, and I promise to keep the door locked.
If you take the dishes down yourself, I won’t even have to open the door to a
waiter.”

He
rubbed his jaw. The woman certainly knew how to appeal to his rational side.

“I’ll
sleep better knowing the hotel is running smoothly,” she added, though the
sparkle in her eyes told him she had more than sleeping on her mind, which
instantly made up his mind. The sooner he checked on the hotel, the sooner he
could get back to her.

“All
right. I’ll go, but, Doc, I’m counting on you to stay with Julia until I
return.”

“I
won’t leave her,” he promised.

Alex
left the apartment a few minutes later and made his way downstairs. Though he
balanced the tray with both hands, china and silver clinked with each step he
took.

Inside
the Crown Room, he handed off the tray to a waiter and quickly returned to the
Rotunda. Everything seemed to be in order. Guests dressed in evening clothes
milled about, some standing, some promenading on the gallery above, and some
sitting on the red velvet banquettes conversing or spectating.

The
clack of billiard balls drew his attention to the Ladies’ Billiard Room, which
opened onto the Rotunda. Two women were playing, both of them laughing at each
other’s shots. From the hallway leading to the Grand Ballroom came the sounds
of the orchestra tuning their instruments.

Alex
wandered up to Reginald O’Fallon, the night clerk on the registration desk. “Evening,
Reg. Anything I need to report to Mrs. MacLean?”

The
clerk gave him a little salute. “You can tell her it’s been a typical Saturday
night. A lot of people came from San Diego for dinner and dancing. We’ve also
had some walk-ins registering for rooms. She’ll be pleased with the evening’s
receipts.”

“Yes,
she will.” Not that it would matter if she couldn’t get another loan, though.
Alex wished he had the money she needed. Tyler Wolff was the answer to her
dilemma, but so far, she was stubbornly opposed to doing business with him.
Alex couldn’t blame her.

When
a man and woman stepped up to the desk, O’Fallon excused himself and went to
assist them. Alex walked away and took one more look around the lively lobby.
In the last few minutes, the noise level had risen as more people entered from
the Crown Room.

He
examined the smiling faces, then grunted when Alberta Hensley came out alone,
spotted him, and waved. She wore a light purple dress with puffed sleeves the
size of the huge vases on the sideboards. The diamond bracelet around her thick
wrist glimmered brightly.

Alex
waved back and scanned the room for the quickest way out.

But
she moved too fast.

“Mr.
MacLean,” she said, smelling, as usual, of too much lilac water, “please put my
mind at rest. I heard a troubling rumor that your beautiful wife was injured
yesterday in some sort of accident. Tell me it isn’t so.”

He
purposely kept the scarred side of his face closest to her. “You don’t need to
worry, Mrs. Hensley,” he said, hoping to forestall any further questions. “It
was nothing serious. She was back in her office today.”

“Goodness,
she is such a hard worker. So dedicated. I admire—”

Boisterous
laughter rang out near the front entrance, and Alex turned, inadvertently
showing Alberta the good side of his face. When the laughter died down, he looked
back at her and knew he’d made a huge mistake.

She
was staring up at him, mouth agape. Whatever color hadn’t been rouged into her cheeks
was draining away.

Alex
froze.

“You!”
she spewed. Her color quickly returned and heightened. “I do know you!
Alexander MacLean. Of course! How could I have forgotten?” She made no effort
to keep her voice down and heads were turning their way. “You were married to
Elizabeth Ellingson. You killed her.”

He
flinched. “I did not kill Elizabeth,” he said through his teeth, keeping his
voice low.

“That’s
not what her parents said. Or the police or newspapers. You were jailed for it.”
She fanned herself with her hands. “Does your current wife know what you did?
No. Of course she doesn’t. I can see it in your eyes. A guilty man doesn’t
advertise what he’s done.” She pressed her palm against her cheek. “I can’t
believe I didn’t recognize you before now. Gerald and Amanda Ellingson are dear
friends of mine. They were absolutely devastated by the deaths of their
daughter and grandson. They wanted to see you hang.”

As
if he didn’t know that. They had tried their best. In a sense, they had hanged
him anyway.

“I
wonder if they know where you are,” she said. “You’re very far from home.”

“This
is my home now.”

Despite
his being a foot taller than she, the woman managed to look down her nose at
him. “And what a nice home it is. You married well. Again.”

Alex
felt his blood surging through his veins. He forgot about the crowded lobby and
stepped closer, looming over her. “Mrs. Hensley,” he growled, “you’d be wise to
stay out of my business.”

She
tilted her head way back and glared up at him, not giving an inch. “Your wife
has a right to know the kind of man she married. Once she knows the truth, and
it is my duty to tell her, she can have the marriage annulled.”

Alex
felt a rising sense of panic. His life finally had purpose again. He had a
beautiful, warm, intelligent, and passionate wife. His ability to design had
returned, and he had a home. He couldn’t allow Alberta Hensley to ruin it all.

He
clenched his fists. “Our marriage is none of your concern. You will say
nothing.”

She
crossed her arms over her ample chest. “Are you threatening me?”

He
bent his head lower, crowding her so closely she finally took a step back. “Think
whatever you want. Just don’t go near my wife.”

She
raised her chin, harrumphed, and stalked off toward the elevator.

Alex
scowled at the matronly busybody’s retreating backside. He may have won this
skirmish, but not the battle. Mrs. Hensley would, if given the chance, tell Julia
what he’d been trying so hard to put behind him.

He
spun away from the noisy Rotunda, feeling as though he were back in his small, reeking
prison cell. He had to get out of here and think.

He
strode through the Garden Patio and ended up on the Paseo del Mar. The salt air
entered his lungs. The ocean’s smell was potent as waves pounded the beach. He
inhaled deeply. A beam from the lighthouse on Point Loma shone every few
seconds across the water.

Eventually,
the sea and shore calmed him. When he came to terms with what he knew he must
do, he started for the hotel.

“There.
All done.” Dr. Dolan snapped his medical bag shut. “You are healing nicely, Julia,
and there’s no sign of infection. Just a bit of the oozing I mentioned before.
The new dressing will help with that.”

“Thank
you, Doctor.”

“No
trouble at all. I’m very pleased with your progress.”

“Alex
will be relieved. He’s been worried about infection.” She got up from the bed. “If
you’ll excuse me, I’ll straighten myself up in the bathroom.”

“Take
your time.”

She
crossed the room and closed the bathroom door behind her. As she refastened her
corset, she wondered what was taking Alex so long. If some hotel-related issue
had detained him, she should have been the one dealing with it.

While
tucking her shirtwaist into her skirt and petticoat, she heard male voices—the
doctor and someone who wasn’t Alex—coming from the sitting room.

Easing
open the door, she listened. Alex wouldn’t be pleased when he found out Dr.
Dolan had let someone into the apartment.

“Doctor,
please, you must come,” the man said, sounding short of breath. “You’re needed
immediately.”

Julia
recognized the voice of Brian Pearson, one of her younger bellboys. Someone
must be hurt.

“Calm
yourself, man,” the doctor said. “Tell me what this is all about.”

She
padded across the bedroom and peeked into the sitting room. Brian’s normally
tanned face was flushed. He appeared distraught and disconcerted. He did not
appear to be a cold, calculating murderer.

“What’s
wrong, Brian?” she asked, entering the room.

“Mrs.
MacLean.” He dragged his pillbox hat off his blond head. “I’m sorry to intrude,
but the night clerk sent me after Dr. Dolan. I’m also to tell you about it.”

“About
what?” She started to worry. “Has something happened to my husband?”

The
bellboy’s sun-bleached eyebrows lifted high into his forehead. “No. Leastways,
not that I know of. It’s the guest in room two twenty-eight. She’s dead.”

Julia
clapped a hand to her mouth. “Mrs. Hensley?”

“That’s
her. That’s the name Reg, uh, the clerk, gave me. He said she was old and it
was probably just her time, but, following protocol, he telephoned Marshal
Landis. He should be here soon.”

She
had trouble believing that the woman who had demanded to see the manager the
day she arrived, who had chased after Muffie in the park, could be dead. Despite
her white hair, Mrs. Hensley hadn’t seemed all that old, but then, Julia knew
her father hadn’t been terribly old when his heart stopped beating.

“Who
found the body?” Dr. Dolan asked.

Brian
pulled at the gold braid circling the cuff of his uniform’s sleeve. “Another
guest from this floor. He told us Mrs. Hensley’s little dog was making such a
ruckus he couldn’t sleep. He went to her door, found it ajar, and looked in.”
Brian swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple twitched. “Apparently she’s on the
floor in her sitting room. I haven’t been there myself.”

“And
the dog?” Julia asked.

“Still
yapping. I heard her all the way over here.”

“Poor
Muffie. And poor Mrs. Hensley.” She grabbed her key off the parlor table. “I’ll
come right away. Hopefully I can quiet the dog before too many guests complain.”

Dr.
Dolan held up his hand. “Julia, there’s no need for you to leave the safety of
this apartment. Marshal Landis and I will take care of the dog and situation.
This isn’t the first death we’ve had here, and it won’t be the last.”

“I
know, but I’m still the manager. I should be there.” She knew Alex wouldn’t
want her to go, but she would be safe with the doctor and Tom. “Besides, you
told Alex you would stay with me until he got back. Either you stay here with
me, or I go with you.”

Dr.
Dolan muttered something unintelligible. “Where is that husband of yours
anyway? Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

“Brian,”
she said, “did you see Mr. MacLean downstairs?”

“No,
ma’am, but I’ve been pretty busy, it being a Saturday night.”

“Never
mind. I’m sure he’s fine.” She prayed he was fine. Her assailant wouldn’t go
after Alex, would he? She forced her fears from her mind. “I’ll leave a note so
he’ll know where we are.”

While
Dr. Dolan retrieved his medical bag, she went to the desk in her bedroom. She
quickly wrote on a tablet of paper.
We’ve gone to room 228. J.

Brian
and the doctor preceded her out of the apartment. She laid the note on the
parlor table and locked the door. “Brian, you may return to your duties
downstairs.”

“Yes,
Mrs. MacLean.” He hurried away.

She
and Dr. Dolan, halfway to their destination, met up with Tom Landis. They
exchanged stilted greetings amidst the yapping barks and occasional whines
drifting through the corridor.

“I
telephoned the coroner,” Tom said, “but it’ll be a few hours before he can get
here. Doctor, if you could do a cursory examination of the body, I’d appreciate
it. I don’t expect anything out of the ordinary.”

“Glad
to oblige, Marshal.”

As
they turned the corner, Julia cringed at the worsening noise of Muffie’s
barking. Outside Mrs. Hensley’s room, at least ten guests dressed in evening
clothes, nightshirts, and wrappers stood together at the open doorway, some
with their hands over their ears.

“Everybody
back!” Tom marched toward them. “Clear the way!”

They
turned en masse, saw the gold star pinned to his blue uniform, and allowed him,
herself, and the doctor to enter the room. Julia almost wished she hadn’t.

Mrs.
Hensley, not yet retired for the night, wore a lavender evening dress and lay deathly
still on the floral-patterned carpet. Though her hair was bound with pins on
top of her head, many strands had come loose, some partially covering her
grayish face. The room smelled of lilac water and death.

Julia
felt her stomach twist. Perhaps even worse than seeing Mrs. Hensley’s body,
though, was the sight of Muffie sitting vigil beside the older woman. The dog’s
constant yapping was like the chanting of nonstop prayers.

Julia
crouched a few feet away and reached her hand toward the tiny dog. “Come here,
Muffie. It’s all right, girl. I’ll take care of you.”

Muffie
stopped barking. A collective sigh from the hallway broke the sudden silence.
The little dog would not leave her post, though.

Julia
tried again, but Muffie stood her ground. When Dr. Dolan approached Mrs.
Hensley’s body, the dog bared her sharp little teeth and growled.

He
scuttled backwards.

“I’ll
get a blanket and catch her,” Tom said. “She won’t hurt anyone that way.”

“Tom,
no,” she said. “That would just upset her more. Let me try again.”

“Well,
make it fast.”

Julia
scooted close enough to touch the dog. “I know you’re upset, sweetheart. It’s
okay.” She tentatively reached out her hand again.

The
terrier whined.

“You’re
a good girl. There’s no reason to bite the good doctor. He’ll be gentle with
your ‘mother.’”

While
Tom wandered around the room, she succeeded at rubbing between Muffie’s ears,
then stroking the soft fur of her back, and finally picking her up. The poor
thing’s body quivered. She huddled against Julia’s chest.

“Bravo,
Julia,” Dr. Dolan said. As she stood and moved back to give him room, he knelt
beside Mrs. Hensley, brushed her hair away from her face, and frowned.

“What
is it?” Tom asked.

“Just
a moment.” Dr. Dolan drew Mrs. Hensley’s high lace neckline lower and whistled
under his breath. “Marshal, this woman did not die of natural causes. She was
strangled.”

A
gasp rose from the hallway.

Julia
gasped as well, then cringed, wishing Tom had closed the door. She’d been too
intent on Muffie to think about privacy, and now it was too late.

“See
the slight bruising on her throat?” He pointed it out to the marshal, who
leaned over the body and nodded.

She
didn’t want to look. This was a nightmare. Who could have done such a thing?
The same man who shot her? But if it was, why go after Mrs. Hensley?

The
doctor hoisted himself up. “Someone deliberately put his hands around this poor
woman’s neck and killed her.”

“Someone
strong.” Tom paced the length of the room. “Strong enough to immobilize a lady
her size.” His gaze alighted on a sheet of hotel stationery lying on the desk.
From where she stood, Julia could see that something was written on the paper,
the beginnings of a letter. Tom picked it up and started reading. He smiled.

“Marshal?”
A man dressed in evening clothes stood on the room’s threshold, his arm around
a woman’s shoulders. “I’m George Farley. My wife and I are new arrivals at this
hotel, and we saw a man arguing with that lady some thirty minutes or so ago in
the lobby. We didn’t hear what was said, but the argument appeared to be
heated. He stood over her in a threatening manner.”

“George!”
His wife poked him in the stomach, her head swiveling between him and one end
of the hall. “George, it’s him. The man from the lobby.”

George
looked for himself and quickly turned back to Marshal Landis. “It is him.”

The
crowd backed away from the doorway, out of someone’s way.

Julia
stared, holding her breath and waiting. Had Mrs. Hensley’s killer dared to come
back?

Alex
filled the doorway.

Her
breath escaped in a shocked rush. She whipped her gaze toward Tom.

Beneath
his full mustache, the marshal smiled broadly, a satisfied glint in his eyes. “I’ve
got you now, MacLean.” He chuckled, and the paper in his hand rustled. “You are
hereby under arrest for the murder of Mrs. Alberta Hensley.”

*   *   *

Alex
felt his mouth drop open. He forced it shut again and looked from Landis’s
gloating expression to Julia’s blanched face to the lifeless body lying on the
floor—Alberta Hensley’s. He could hardly take it in. Just a short time ago,
she’d been full of righteous spit and vinegar. This was wrong. How could she be
dead?

He
held up his hands, palms out. “Whoa. Murder? Alberta’s been murdered?”

“As
if you didn’t know,” the marshal said. “You were seen arguing with her. Do you
deny it?”

He
glanced at the faces around him, already seeing where the marshal was going. He
dropped his arms and stepped across the threshold. “No, I do not deny quarreling
with her, but I wouldn’t hurt her. I did not do this.” He gestured toward her.

“Several
witnesses say otherwise. In the lobby, you appeared to be threatening her.”

Alex
looked at Julia, needing to know that she believed him, believed in him, but she
seemed to be in shock as she cradled Muffie in her arms. Or was she unsure what
to think? Did she doubt him? He didn’t think he could bear it if she did.

Dr.
Dolan disappeared into the bedroom, then returned with a blanket and covered
Mrs. Hensley.

“How
was she killed?” Alex demanded.

The
doctor looked up. “Strangulation.”

“But
you already knew that,” Landis sneered, “didn’t you, MacLean?”

Alex
narrowed his eyes on the closed-minded marshal. “I didn’t touch her, and I have
never been in this room before.”

“Prove
it. Where were you at the time of her death, shortly after you were with her in
the lobby?”

Alex
suppressed a groan. Dammit. He should have never left the hotel, just as he
should have never left his home the night of his last argument with Elizabeth. “I was on the Paseo del Mar.”

“With
anyone?”

“No.”
He had passed several couples strolling the walkway above the beach, but they
had paid him even less heed than he had paid them.

“Exactly
as I thought. Let me tell you what happened here. You argued with the victim,
then you followed her here and killed her.”

“Tom,
please,” Julia finally said. “I don’t—”

The
marshal held up his hand. “Julia, I have it on good authority that this man you
married arrived on the ferry barely twenty-four hours before your wedding. How
much do you really know about him?”

She
opened her mouth, and Alex thought she was going to defend him, but then she
looked into his eyes. She closed her mouth, as if she’d seen the truth, that he
had not shared a crucial and damaging part of his past with her. Her shoulders
drooped, and she seemed to wilt in front of him.

Alex
felt his legs weaken. He was losing her.

Landis
smiled smugly. “Just as I thought.”

“Julia,”
Alex said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything, but I swear to you I did
not hurt Alberta.”

“Of
course you did,” the marshal said. “She knew something about you, MacLean.
Something you didn’t want anyone in San Diego to know, especially Julia. But
now everyone will know.” He waved the sheet of stationery in his hand. “Your
victim put it in writing.”