Free A Golden Cage by Shelley Freydont

was offer to help a girl. By sending her here, I might add, not taking her into my den of iniquity. Not that I even have one.”
    His father snorted. “Is that what you’re afraid Deanna will think?”
    â€œNo. Shall I tell you what happened last night, or not?”
    â€œPlease,” Will said.
    â€œPlease do,” his mother said.
    Joe sighed and sat down. He knew his mother wouldn’t approve of Mersey’s yacht party, not because she thought it was immoral, necessarily, but because the men who would be there would invariably take advantage of the women who were hired for the occasion. Not only would they use them but oftentimes abuse them as well.
    â€œI ran into Vlady Howe as I was leaving the birthday fete last night. He and Herbert were going to drop by Jacob Mersey’s yacht. I agreed to go with them.”
    He shot his mother and grandmother a serious look. “Mainly because I was hungry and Mersey always does a good spread. So we went; it was the usual, women and drinking and lots of noise. A number of the actresses were there.
    â€œI went out on deck to find a quiet place to eat, and when I’d finished and was coming back inside, I passed a stateroom where voices were raised—angry voices. I slowed just to make sure no one was in trouble. But the door opened so I quickly went back outside, waiting for them to leave.
    â€œAs I stood there, a girl runs out saying, ‘Help me,’ and I recognized her. It was Amabelle Deeks, and I told her if she were in trouble, she should come here. Which evidently she did.” Joe shrugged. “Then we heard one of the stateroom doors close and she ran off.
    â€œI thought she would be safe, so I left.”
    Will turned a page in his notebook. Licked the end of his pencil. “And about this argument you overheard. Was it in connection with Miss Deeks?”
    â€œI didn’t hear, though I thought I heard one of them say ‘bell.’ When I saw Amabelle, I made the connection.” Joe thought back. “It might be coincidental that she ran from the same corridor as the arguing men. There are maybe four guest rooms there. It might have been about her—or over her. Or something totally unrelated. I didn’t hear any female voice.”
    â€œAnd did you know the owners of those voices?”
    â€œNot that I noticed at the time.”
    â€œDo you think you would recognize the voices if you heard them again?”
    â€œI might. Like I said, I wasn’t paying that much attention, and they were muffled by the door.”
    â€œAnd did you look for her afterward?”
    â€œNo. I had just come to have some breakfast. I’d had it and I went home.”
    â€œNext time,” his father interrupted, “you might do better to come to Bonheur for a home-cooked meal.”
    â€œYes, sir. And I’m sorry if I brought the family into this mess. I was trying to help a young woman.” He glanced at his mother. “I didn’t think she would murder someone.”
    â€œYou don’t know that she murdered Charlie,” Deanna said, striding into the room.
    Joe did a double take. She was dressed in a tailored shirt and a skirt hemmed several inches above her ankles. A skirt that was actually divided, similar to trousers. The cycling club. He’d seen their costumes before, just not on Dee.
    She stopped in the middle of the room. “You don’t know that she murdered poor Charlie, or did you discover evidence while I was upstairs changing?” She cocked her head at him. She was upset that she’d been made to leave, regardless of how gently it was done.
    â€œDid you?” she reiterated.
    â€œNo. And since when did a dead stranger become ‘poor Charlie’?”
    Gran Gwen threw up both hands. “
Pour l’amour du ciel.
You children are enough to make one tear one’s hair. A girl is missing. A man is dead. Deanna may call him ‘poor