The Detective's Dilemma (11 page)

She examined the small pots and brushes, all crusted black. “Very nice.”

He carefully shut the box again and pushed the eyehook closed. “I was doing papers, but this is a new racket for me. I think it’ll do me fine.” He grinned at her, then stretched his body flat on the seat, wrapping his arms around his box. “Say, this is a cozy setup in here. A real carriage and all. Only been in a couple before. I’m just going to rest my eyes a minute. That good with you?”

“Certainly.”

His eyes had already closed, and the soft snores began almost at once.

About five minutes later, Caleb reappeared. He opened the door and stopped, and gazed at Danny on the seat. Without a word, he slid into the carriage and sat next to her.

“That’s our messenger?”

“He has a very good memory for words,” he said. “And no need to be quiet. He’d sleep through a gun battle. Don’t touch him, though.”

“What’s wrong with him?” she whispered.

He paused and stared over at the boy. She wondered what he would answer. Daft? Feebleminded?

He said, “He’s happier than he has any right to be.”

The fond look Caleb aimed at Danny showed he obviously liked the boy. She hadn’t thought him the sort to deal with children. Most men she knew had no interest in them— Brennan was the one exception. Then again, after James, her life had shrunk to a small world mostly consisting of Peter.

“How did you meet Danny?” she asked. “Through your work?”

He nodded. “Unlike most boys on the streets, he likes coppers and came out to walk with me when I was doing a beat. He was a little thing back then. I tried to get him help, and he ran away from the boys’ home I found. I even dragged him back to my place a couple of times. He’d eat what I gave him, pretend to go to bed, and then slip out in the middle of the night to rejoin his friends. He has a few other boys who watch out for him. Finally, he told me thank you, but no thank you. He has fine manners for an urchin.”

She wasn’t sure which made her heart feel swollen, the thought of Danny unable to accept help, or the discovery that Caleb had a generous nature. Would Caleb be as generous to her own boy?

He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out some pieces of paper—newspaper clippings.

“This took longer than I’d hoped. Sorry about that. I had to beg them for the indices of articles. Did you know one year of access to an index cost fifty cents?”

“Outrageous… What were you looking for?” She peered over at the papers, which were folded in half.

He unfolded them to reveal engravings of Mrs. Winthrop, her mother-in-law. “Do these look like her?”

She tilted her head sideways. Mrs. Winthrop had a beak of a nose and large, heavy-lidded eyes that lent her the appearance of a professional mourner. Most of the pictures seemed to exaggerate both features. “A little.”

“Drat. I need a good likeness for our friend, so he’ll be able to identify her.”

She took the papers and sorted through them and held one up. “This one looks like her—lugubrious and furtive at the same time.”

“You don’t like her.”

“She’s not so terrible, I suppose. What do you mean, so he can identify her? What is your plan?”

“I’ll show him the picture and let him wait outside their residence. When she leaves the house, he’ll deliver the message, if she’s alone.”

“She won’t listen to a scruffy boy from the streets.”

“He’ll be a delivery boy. I’d let him just go to the door, but he might run into Mr. Winthrop. And if Mrs. Winthrop won’t take a note from his hand, he’ll just trot after her and tell her the message. He’s a hard boy to shake, is our Danny.”

They trundled up Broadway and stopped several blocks from the Winthrops’ mansion. “My employers have discovered by now that you’ve flown the coop. They’ll be looking for me,” said Caleb. “That’s why we have to be so elaborate.”

He leaned forward and gingerly prodded Danny, who started and sat up quickly, apparently still asleep yet ready to run or fight.

His eyes opened, and he yawned. “Oh. Right. Good morning, Mr. Walker. What’s the job?”

“We’ll talk in a few minutes. Let’s get moving.” He opened the door, stepped out, and turned back to help Julianna down.

Danny jumped to the sidewalk, slung his box over his shoulder, and carefully adjusted the strap so it lay just so. Caleb paid the driver. He looked around as if searching for someone he knew before he escorted Danny and Julianna into a shop that specialized in books and dust.

The narrow shop consisted of a maze of shelves with subject or author name tacked above each shelf. A few steps in, Julianna noticed nooks and alcoves set here and there—ranging in size from a full room with its door missing to just a window seat with a window nearly hidden by bookshelves.

A thin man with unkempt gray hair and beard sat near the middle of the shop in a small recessed area, reading. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and looked at them with distaste, as if they were trespassers on his private property, until his gaze settled on Caleb. The frown deepened. “Oh. It’s you. Want help as usual?”

“No, thank you, Gordon,” Walker said. “We’re going to be here awhile.”

“Huh.” The man grunted, slumped down in his chair, and lifted his book again.

Walker pulled them to a far corner near the window seat. He put a hand on Danny’s shoulder and waited until the boy stopped fiddling with the strap of his box.

“Mrs. Julianna and I are going to wait here, Danny. You’re to go find this lady, Mrs. Winthrop, and deliver a message. Here is the message: If she wishes to see her grandchild again—”

“What?” Julianna said, startled.

He flashed her a dark look and continued, “She must meet an interested party alone or accompanied only by a maid at the, ah…” He peered through the window. “There’s a small table d’hôtes restaurant across the street, and it’s not even in the basement.”

Julianna interrupted again. “There? No. It looks like the sort of place where everyone sits crammed together eating soup with bread and butter and getting drunk. The hat shop next door to it is better.”

He moved close behind her, so near her back prickled with awareness of him, and he murmured, “A new hat can finally make you presentable.” His breath on her jaw reminded her of their kisses and more. She shivered and turned her head to pretend to examine a shelf of books.

She touched the leather binding of an oversized art portfolio. “She might be willing to come here.”

“All right, we’ll go examine hats and wait for her to appear.”

“Why don’t we just wait here?”

“In case she summons the police or brings along her husband, of course. The back door of this store leads to an enclosed yard—we’d have no way to escape. Now let’s practice exactly what you’ll say, Danny.”

The boy’s lower lip pushed out in concentration as he listened to Caleb’s message.

It took Danny a few tries before he got the phrases right.

“Be sure to call her Mrs. Winthrop, not ‘hey lady,’” Walker said mildly. “Here are pictures of her.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out the newspaper clippings with etchings of Mrs. Winthrop.

He showed more patience with Danny than Julianna would have guessed. Perhaps being dragged off at gunpoint had played havoc with what was usually Caleb’s good nature.

Mr. Gordon gave them permission to use the pump out back, and Caleb dragged the reluctant boy toward the rear of the store for a scrub. “I’ll pay you an extra nickel.” His voice drifted back as he led Danny to the courtyard.

Danny returned, pushing at his neatly combed hair with pink, clean hands, and muttered something about not worth a nickel. He cheered up, showing his gap-toothed smile, when Walker handed over half his pay.

Julianna and Caleb walked with him outside and watched him jog off. Caleb held her arm as they crossed the street and paused at the door to the restaurant before they entered the hat shop.

“Smells even worse than our breakfast choice. We have a knack for encountering the worst restaurants in the city. Should we ever go out to eat again,” Caleb said, “I know of a pleasant Italian place.”

She supposed he was joking.

The hat shop had only a single window and a narrow door, but it opened into a large room, a jumble of tables and displays. Ladies’ hats hung on the wall, perched on stands and sitting on lace-covered tables.

Julianna looked around at the jumble twice before noticing a wide lady who sat at a table behind a pile of gauze feathers and beads, sewing false grapes to a lacy creation.

The lady began to rise from her seat when Caleb gave her a smile and motioned for her to stay seated. “We don’t need to disturb you. We’re fine looking on our own.” He stared at a bonnet that seemed to be composed of ribbons and butterfly wings. “Lovely stuff.” He picked up the delicate and frightening thing. “Why don’t you try it on, dear?”

If they had to pretend to shop, she wasn’t going to risk ruining anything delicate and expensive. She picked up a straw boater. “Much more my style.”

“Why am I not surprised?” He stopped admiring the wares and stared out the single window cluttered with hats on stands.

She drifted near, adjusting the boater on her head and looking out at a nearly empty sidewalk. “This plan of yours seems rather haphazard. What if Mrs. Winthrop isn’t home? What if she brings her husband to this meeting?”

“I expect she’s home. Those of us on the assignment to go to your house this morning were told that she would be waiting there to receive their grandchild.

“And if she brings along her husband or any of his agents, then we know they’re in the plan to steal him from you together. I suppose it could also mean she isn’t smart enough to figure out how to get rid of him to sneak off for our meeting.”

“Or he’s a great deal stronger than she, which I already know to be true. What do you hope to gain?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do, other than help you to escape. That will come later, I expect.”

“What will you do if she does show up alone?”

“Find out if she knows the truth about her son’s life and death.”

“The truth? You believe me, then? About all of it—every detail?”

He’d been hunched to stare out between two befeathered hats, but he straightened to look into her face. “Yes. I do.” He smiled at her. “And not just because I find you immensely attractive.”

That added remark filled her with the echo of their moments of crazed, shared heat, but she also wanted to sing out her relief. One more person on her side. Even better, one of her enemy converted.

Chapter Five

He wanted to touch her—reassuringly, of course. For some reason, she had turned brittle with him again. He figured she felt trapped in the power of people who didn’t have one’s best interest at heart. He knew that situation well enough.

“Why are you wearing such a grim expression?” she asked.

“I’m thinking.”

She gave a small, unhappy laugh. “Are you regretting your choice to help me?”

“Good God, no! I said I would. Of course I’ll help,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended.

He wished he could show her he believed her and wasn’t just paying lip service or paying her back for her favors. If he could pull her close and maybe stroke her hair to reassure her. She’d press her face to him and return the embrace… Now his mind moved past comfort to kisses. No more time for that. He snorted at himself for this new obsession and walked away to fully face the window.

“Are you having a disagreement?” The hat shop clerk had finally drifted over and stood near them.

“Not at all.” Walker gave her a bland smile. He had no interest in drawing more of the inquisitive woman’s curiosity.

The saleslady eyed Julianna, who immediately bent over a display and picked up a hat with a veil. She pulled the frilly part over her face and turned her back on the saleslady.

“Looks pretty on you,” the lady offered, then moved across the store to perch the boater on a stand.

The bells over the door tinkled as another customer entered, a well-dressed lady in mourning black. The milliner must have seen more money in that customer. She hurried over. Within a minute she and the new customer stood near her worktable. The mourning woman removed her hat pin and her own black-and-gray hat. She gestured enthusiastically at something big with two dead birds on the top.

Walker came back to Julianna’s side. “Good job hiding your face.”

“It seemed prudent. Do you know the other police involved? The people who showed up at my house after we left?”

He thought back to the meeting that very morning, which felt like a thousand years ago. “There were four others, and yeah, I know them. They’re, uh…” He tried to think of a few words that would describe them.
They enjoy their work
would not help her relax. He tried again. “We were not supposed to use force.”

“You were supposed to let them into my house? Open the door for them?”

He sighed. “Or allow you to open the door for them after I’d convinced you the action was for the best.”

“You didn’t try very hard.”

“I recognized a lost cause. And then there was a gun.” He tried smiling at her and was rather astonished when she returned the smile.

She put the veiled thing down and picked up another with silk flowers. “Now this one is pretty. Fewer flowers, perhaps. I can imagine my old self buying it.”

“Why not the newer self?”

“She doesn’t indulge in extravagances.” Julianna put the hat on her head. “She’s rather dull, I suppose. But perhaps I’ll be less boring once I feel safe again.”

“Mrs. Winthrop, you are many things but boring is not one of them. I find you exciting. Would you care for me to list the ways you have stimulated me?”

She glanced around the shop. “I’m not sure you should talk about such things in public.”

He was about to explain it wasn’t just her body that got his heart pounding when he saw her grin. She said meditatively, “I suppose I sounded as if I fished for compliments when I called myself dull.”

“Is that true?” he said. “Would you care for some praise?”

She touched the bow she’d tied under her chin. “Tell me I look fetching in this hat.”

“You look more than fetching in that hat or out of it.”

Still smiling, she touched a hat with bobbing butterflies. “This one would look good on you.”

Their chatter was a respite between storms. He could pretend that he shopped with her for the simple pleasure of her company—until she asked, “What will you do after this?”

“What do you mean?” He wanted to keep discussing the hats.

“You can’t very well go back to your old life. Your bosses will know you turned on them.”

He really didn’t want to think about the changes coming.

“I would try to help you.” She reached up to adjust the flowered hat, and her bosom pressed forward in a distracting manner. “The way you’re helping me.”

“What? No, no. That’s absurd. You meet up with your child and your, ah, friend and return to your life. Or if we don’t succeed, flee the city. I suggest a nice, quiet place on Long Island among the potato farms.”

She took off the hat and gazed at him steadily. “No. We will bring down my awful in-laws, and then we will slay your dragons.”

He laughed. “You sound as if you’re serious.”

“I am. And we shall succeed.”

His heart lifted at her words and her serious mien, but he had to shake his head.

She folded her arms. “I was an optimist. Didn’t you guess that about me? An optimist. I shall be one again from now on.”

“Yes, I can see that about your past. You made the best of a bad marriage.”

She moved to another table and touched a straw hat with a red ribbon. She looked around the shop as if making sure no one listened. The other two had moved to a wall display of silk flowers.

Julianna said, “And how many times shall I have to tell you this? It was not a bad marriage. I loved my husband.” She lifted the hat and fiddled with its brim before placing it on her head. “He was a loving, considerate man. Extremely considerate.” Her blush told him exactly what she meant.

The thought of her in bed with James created a strong discomfort in Walker he didn’t appreciate.

She expertly tied the ribbon under her chin, then returned her attention to the window. Staring at the street and most definitely not at him, she said, “I miss James, especially at night. There is nothing more comforting than sleeping next to another person. If you wake from a bad dream, someone can hold you close.”

He didn’t want to think about her lying awake in a bed. He cleared his throat. “Try this one,” he said and picked up something blue.

She carefully placed the red-ribboned thing back where she found it. “I wonder if you’ve ever experienced that sort of pleasure?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, I know you have had the other sort.” She pressed her lips tight. Hiding a smile, perhaps. “The other, more acrobatic things one does in bed—I’m sure you have plenty of experience with that.”

“You suspect that, eh?” He twisted to look into a mirror hanging on the wall near them. It seemed easier than meeting her eyes.

“Yes. I most certainly do. You are skilled, after all.” She stood next to him and looked into the mirror too, but not to admire the latest creation on her head.

She met his gaze, and her mouth curved into a smile. “So you’ve had the pleasure of…that sort of pleasure. But have you spent a whole night with someone you care about? Slept and awakened with someone important to you?”

“Mrs. Winthrop,” he began, but wasn’t sure how to finish. This was hardly the kind of conversation one had with any sort of woman. Or any sort of man either. It felt even more intimate than their touches in the apartment. “No,” he said at last. “I have not had that sort of pleasure, Julianna.”

“I recommend it. Very few things I’ve experienced are sweeter.” Their eyes still held until she turned to look out the window again.

He thought for one awful minute she would break down and cry for her lost husband, but she only gazed steadily out the window, and he stared at her profile. Could she want that intimacy with him? With Walker? He waited for the clutch of fear, the urge to run away. It didn’t come, though his heart did beat faster.

The soft blue of the hat brought out the color of her eyes and the pink of her cheek.

Her brow furrowed. She pointed. “That woman is like my mother-in-law but thinner.”

He’d been distracted by the young widow and forgotten to do his job. He peered between the bright hats at the grimy street beyond. An older woman in black accompanied by a maid strolled down the sidewalk. She looked up and down the street before ducking into the bookstore.

“It is she. Go, go.” Julianna took off the hat.

“One more minute, and I’ll see if anyone else has followed her. I have to be careful in case one of my fellow officers decided to tag along,” he said soothingly. He pulled out some coins. “Danny should be along any minute. Will you wait here, please? I’d rather not involve you immediately.”

Her scowl deepened, but she at last nodded. “Fine. You seem to have some sort of plan.”

“Yes, I do, and either Danny or I will get you.”

Her wide-eyed gaze remained glued to the bookstore. “Yes.” She rubbed her forehead with her palm. “I hadn’t thought seeing her again would be so fraught.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m absolutely fine,” she said unconvincingly. “Please find me soon.”

He pressed the money into her hand and nodded at one of the hats she’d put on the table. “Buy that flowery one. It suits you.”

“I have my own money.”

“Consider it a gift.” He backed away before she could return the coins.

Walker sprinted across the street and slipped into the bookstore.

The older lady stood at the rear of the shop, trying to engage Gordon in conversation. The old man had risen from his chair and looked outraged that someone would try to talk to him in his shop.

“There’s the man you want, I reckon.” Gordon pointed at Walker. Then he settled back into his large chair and lifted his book.

“Mrs. John Winthrop?” Walker walked toward her slowly.

She watched him with wide, fearful eyes. “Who are you?”

“My name is Walker. Gordon, may we use your office?”

Gordon made a show of lowering his book. “Sure, you use the rest of my shop like it’s your home. Why not my office?”

“If my messenger returns, would you send him along?”

“And maybe give him another bath?” Gordon heaved a long-suffering sigh. “What about your pretty young lady? At least she’s decorative.”

“She’ll be here soon,” Walker said. “Thanks for letting me use your shop.”

Gordon waved a bony hand, impatiently gesturing toward his office. “Go on, then.”

“Ma’am?” He indicated the door and tried to usher Mrs. Winthrop toward it.

“I am not used to going into closed rooms with strange men,” she said, and the quaver of fear in her voice told him that he shouldn’t push the matter.

“Then let’s go to the front of the store.”

“But someone I know might see me through the window.”

He wanted to roll his eyes but instead indicated a stack in a far corner. “I would like to have a private word with you. I trust Gordon not to listen?”

A snort came from the armchair at this. Of course Gordon would eavesdrop. He only pretended to be indifferent.

Mrs. Winthrop at last allowed Walker to move her to the far corner of the shop. She stood with her back to the bookshelves, facing him, ramrod straight. “Go on,” she said. “You know about my grandchild. Here.”

With trembling hands, she opened the purple-leather-and-brocade bag she carried and held it out to him.

He took it, reached in, and pulled out a heavy pearl necklace and a diamond earring, then dropped them back into the bag as if they burned him. “What is this about?” he demanded, though he began to suspect.

“You knew better than to go to my husband. He would never cooperate with someone like you, but I only care about making sure little Peter is safe.”

He peered into the bag again at a twinkling jumble of necklaces, bracelets, rings. “You think I’m holding your grandson for ransom.”

She took a step back from him. Her whole body shook. “I know who you are.”

“What?” He regretted the sharp tone at once, but she didn’t scurry off screaming.

“You are that detective they were talking about. Walker. You kidnapped my grandson and—and maybe…” She swallowed and looked away, then whispered, “Maybe you hurt my daughter-in-law. Please, I will not go contact anyone as long as you can promise that my grandson is safe.” She gave a small sob and pushed her gloved hand against her mouth. He felt a twinge of admiration for a meek woman who stood her ground with a man she thought a kidnapper and murderer.

He managed to speak more gently. “Who told you I did those things?”

She gulped a couple of times. “Mr. Lesham came to our house and explained what happened.”

The name was familiar. “Lesham. The lawyer?” Not a man he would have guessed would be embroiled in this sort of corrupt use of police officers. “He had been a district attorney,” Walker said slowly. “Good Lord.”

He pushed the handbag back at her. “I need to explain some things.”

The door to the shop swung open, and Mrs. Winthrop took another few steps back, looking around frantically. Probably ready to find her maid and flee.

Danny strolled into view, hoisting his box higher onto his back. “Say, Mr. Walker, I see you got the lady already. I stopped and got myself a bite from a cart first. Hey again, lady. Mrs. Winthrop, I mean.”