Free A Golden Cage by Shelley Freydont Page B

their homes.
    â€œGood luck with trying to get them to talk. They may not be afraid of the police, but they’re petrified of their wives, and they won’t take a chance of ending up in the gossip column of
Town Topics.
”
    â€œTrue. Sometimes I wonder why I was cursed with an aptitude for science.”
    â€œYou mean you’d rather be knocking heads together down in the Fifth Ward than following forensic clues to a successful end.”
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t be happy. Come on. I’ll ride with you back to town.”
    They walked around to the kitchen door, where Cook handed Will a large basket filled with sandwiches, pickles, a pie, and a jar of tea. Will kissed her cheek.
    â€œGet on with you, now. And don’t you share that. You eat every bite yourself.”
    While Will secured the basket to his bicycle, Joe picked up his own bicycle.
    â€œGoing back to work?” Will asked.
    â€œYes, but first I’m going to follow Dee and make sure she gets to her group in one piece.”
    â€œWhat you really mean is you’re going to make sure she goes cycling instead of deciding to search for Amabelle Deeks.”
    Joe grimaced. “Something like that, but afterward I could drop by the yacht, just to see who’s still there nursing a pounding head and if anyone remembers anything about last night. That will save you the aggravation of dealing with them.”
    â€œUnofficially, of course,” Will said.
    â€œOf course.” Joe grinned. “I think I might have left my hat there.”
    They rode north toward the town and parted on Thames Street, Will to the police station on Marlborough Street, and Joe to ride by the Washington Square, where the Newport Ladies’ Cycling Club met.
    He slowed to a stop when he saw the ladies and their bicyclesgathered on the side of the street. There must have been ten or twelve of them. Joe even recognized a few.
    As he watched, they climbed onto their bicycles and pedaled away in the opposite direction. Deanna, as one of the lesser-experienced riders, was positioned near the back of the group. Joe watched until they turned the corner and the last one disappeared from view. Satisfied, he turned his own bicycle in the direction of the wharves.
    *   *   *
    D eanna had to concentrate to keep her handlebars steady. Between the rough street and the proximity of the other cyclists, it was a bit nerve-racking. She knew that, like every other skill, conquering cycling was merely a matter of practice. And she was already feeling more comfortable astride the contraption. The group moved at a sedate pace, navigating between pedestrians and carriages and handcarts. As soon as they passed the string of shops that lined the street, they would pick up speed until they came to the open road.
    Two young women stood on the walk, waiting for the group to pass before crossing the street. One was tall with light brown hair, the other a blonde, slightly shorter and plumper than her companion. They were dressed for shopping and carried themselves well, but there was something about them that told Deanna they were not members of the cottagers. Deanna recognized them immediately as members of the acting troupe.
    Their dresses were fashionable, but made of less-expensive cloth than their couture cousins. Their demeanor was polished, but learned. They weren’t at all stilted, just seemed to be enjoying themselves as they leaned toward each otherchatting. One thing gave them away. They were carrying their own packages.
    Deanna was so intent on watching them that she nearly ran into another cyclist. She put on the brakes and stopped in the street. The other cyclists continued on their way.
    The two actresses started across the street. Deanna slipped off her bicycle and rolled it over to walk next to them.
    They both turned their heads to look at her but didn’t slow down.
    When they reached the other side,