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.’
‘Can you imagine that?’ Alkmene burst when they had left the perplexed ex-heiress at her breakfast table with her half smoked cigarette. ‘Pemboldt, Norwhich’s own lawyer, hired the girl to play his niece, while he knew, outright knew, she was not the right heiress. Why on earth would he do that? How can he benefit? Aw…’
She froze on the pavement, and Jake grabbed her arm, looking down. ‘Broke your heel?’ he asked cynically.
‘No, I forgot to ask who proposed to her behind the screen. If that was Pemboldt, he was after Norwhich’s fortune all the time. But the fellow I heard talking sounded younger, a bit arrogant, you know, not a stick of a lawyer…’
‘I won’t even bother to ask what on earth you are referring to,’ Jake said with a snort. ‘I just want to see that fancy Mr Pemboldt and let him explain it all. It’s perfectly legal, he told her, and that being a lawyer…’ He shook his head.
‘She also didn’t say who the major was,’ Alkmene continued out loud. She could just slap herself for having forgotten to ask all these important questions. But after the name Pemboldt had been uttered, her mind had whirred with reasons why, motives, alibis, the whole lot, and she had forgotten all about the proposal behind the screen and the major mentioned in that conversation.
Now she understood better why the police at times followed up on fake clues, pursuing one angle, while not seeing other elements that were right under their noses. There were so many elements to a case, and the picture kept shifting like a kaleidoscope.
‘Say…’ She hurried after Jake, who had resumed walking again to Pemboldt’s offices off Brook Street. ‘If you ever eloped, where would you go?’
‘Why would I elope?’ Jake asked with a frown. ‘I don’t have to ask for anybody’s permission to marry.’
‘Just for the sake of analysis. If you eloped, took a girl on the run to marry her without her family’s permission, where would you go?’
Jake waved a hand. ‘I don’t know. I’d take the Orient Express probably and decide on the way what stop I’d get off at. Plenty of possibilities, each with its own advantages.’
Alkmene smiled to herself. See. Gretna Green was for amateurs.
Jake glanced at her. ‘You would not elope with some cad of a lord, would you? Nah, you would not have to. Your father would love the cad of a lord and agree to the marriage on a whim.’
Before Alkmene could protest he pushed on, ‘We can’t expect this shrewd lawyer Pemboldt to cave as easily as dear Evelyn has. She believed that I already knew a lot about her and the whole impersonation scheme, but Pemboldt is smarter than that, and if he has blood on his hands, he will be desperate to deny it all.’
‘Well, you can’t always have it easy,’ Alkmene said, a little vicious because of his ‘dear Evelyn’. ‘Perhaps you should go with her to America. Not for a career in journalism in New York City, but to try your luck on the stage. You play “understanding” with real flair.’
Jake hitched a brow at her. ‘Jealous?’
‘Of course not. You just manipulated her for your own gain. One moment you were luring her with sugar water, the next you about twisted her wrist.’
‘It got us what we wanted, didn’t it?’ Jake pointed ahead. ‘The offices of our scheming family lawyer. What are we going to say?’
‘I will announce myself as Lady Alkmene and ask for some legal
