The Detective's Dilemma (15 page)

He started down the hall.

“Please stop,” she called after him.

He didn’t turn around, and she grew almost certain he was determined to summon someone who would harm Caleb and take Peter. Caleb Walker had struck her as a suspicious man, but apparently he should have been more wary of his old “friend” who also happened to be friends with her horrible father-in-law.

Julianna wouldn’t allow this to happen.

“Turn around.” She pulled the gun from her pocket and when he obeyed her command, she flourished the weapon. “No. I’m sorry. You really don’t have time. We are going now, and I think it’s best if you come along.”

His eyes went wide. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

The simple answer to that: her second kidnapping of the day. At least this time she couldn’t accidentally shoot anyone—there were no longer any bullets in the gun. She motioned him back into the room. She shoved the blasted gun into her dress pocket. It didn’t fit, and its weight made her dress rip slightly.

She met Harriet’s gaze. The maid widened her bright eyes at Julianna, obviously spellbound but not upset. At least someone was enjoying herself.

“All right. We’re going to take a hansom back to the shop, and we’ll have Mr. Walker talk to you himself.”

“I have no interest in anything he has to say.”

“You did a few minutes ago. Come on,” she commanded, and they walked out into the drizzling evening. Fog and tiny drops of rain caught in her hair. Down the street, the lights had been lit, and a halo formed around the gas lamps.

She’d gone out without a hat or gloves but had grown used to feeling half-dressed today.

Harriet and Mrs. Winthrop, complaining and wondering what on earth possessed dear Julianna, climbed into the carriage first.

She waited for Mr. Sawyer to climb in next. She didn’t want to sit next to anyone with her gun out, even without any ammunition.

Lord Almighty, she was tired of the weapon. As soon as she possibly could, she would throw the thing into a garbage can.

And if Brennan complained about the loss of his gun… No. She wouldn’t worry about that at a time like this.

She gave directions to the bookshop while the cabby stared through the door in the roof at the silent Mr. Sawyer, the member of the party who ought to be speaking. Sawyer didn’t appear to notice. He glared, obviously furious now and not at all amused. The driver slid the door shut.

The carriage started up, and Mr. Sawyer spoke at last. “I won’t be a party to this nonsense,” he snapped. “He is my enemy.”

“He said you wouldn’t want him dead.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.” He made an impatient sound. “Come now, Mrs. Winthrop. Be sensible. There are people coming to my house, and they will wonder where I have gone.”

“We will send a messenger to reassure them.” But it would be someone she knew who would deliver the words they picked. She wondered if Danny was still hanging about the bookshop.

He shifted in his seat. “Tell me again why you trust Mr. Walker.”

She didn’t want to say anything about how she and Walker had touched each other and kissed—and she wouldn’t mention that she’d held him prisoner too. “I think he tries to do the right thing when he can.”

Sawyer snorted. “He disappointed his family.”

“Do you mean by becoming a police officer?”

“Among other things.”

“What else could you mean?” She silently cursed her obvious fascination.

“He was quick to fight in school. I admit he often protected younger, weaker students, but he enjoyed those brawls.” He frowned. “When we were boys, he was so wild, my own family warned me to stay away from him.”

“Did you?”

“No, of course I saw him whenever possible.”

She couldn’t help smiling.

“My family was right,” he said sharply.

They arrived at the bookshop. Julianna didn’t have any money, so Mr. Sawyer had to hand over the coins. She awkwardly shoved the gun back into her pocket before she opened the door and climbed out.

“Is he holding the bookstore owner hostage?” Mr. Sawyer pointing at a CLOSED sign that hung in the bookstore’s window.

“They’re friends,” Julianna answered. The door was locked, so she knocked.

Gordon, the owner, took his time answering. He glowered at them all before speaking. “You’d better come in, then.” They filed past him into the shop, Julianna at the rear, and he carefully locked up behind them, then shuffled back to his chair and book.

“Where is Detective Walker?”

“He went upstairs to find some of my money. He wanted to run out and hire a cab to go after you.” Gordon gave a grim smile of satisfaction. “I wouldn’t let him raid my store funds. And I wouldn’t tell him where I keep my savings so he went looking. Good think you came back before I gave up and handed over the cash. I can’t afford his fits and starts but the poor boy looked so frantic, I almost did.”

Someone came clattering down the stairs and there was Caleb, out of breath and rumpled. “Thank God,” he said. He blinked and tilted his head. “Bruce. Thank you for coming.”

“I wasn’t given a choice. This woman has a gun.”

“Again?” Caleb’s smile at Julianna made her grin back and grow rather weak in the legs—proving that this long day must be taking its toll on her.

She said, “I think Mr. Sawyer already sent a message out to someone—I don’t know who—for help. He found out how to find you. He would have led people straight here.”

“What? What are you talking about? I would do no such thing.” Mr. Sawyer folded his arms and glared at them. “This young lady invaded my house and then threatened me with a gun—and that was after I promised I would do what I can do about the strange story they told. So strange! I don’t know where she got the idea that I summoned anyone at all. I have no notion what is going on.”

A cold worry filled Julianna. Had she dragged a man from his home for no good reason? Hadn’t he claimed he expected company?

But then Caleb rolled his eyes. “You forget I know you pretty well, Bruce. All that sputtering and protesting—damnation, you always were the worst actor. Come on.” He jerked his head in the direction of the back of the shop.

Gordon rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to make a living if you won’t let me open my store?”

“You hate customers,” Caleb said.

“True,” Gordon grumbled. “You and your friends better buy some books.”

Mr. Sawyer glared at Caleb. “Why should I stay here? Will she shoot me if I don’t obey?”

“Yes, I most certainly will,” Julianna said.

“No, there are no bullets in the gun,” Caleb spoke at the same time.

Julianna sighed and placed the revolver on the bookshelf next to a volume about flower arrangements. “Detective Walker, if Mr. Sawyer runs out of this shop and summons the police, it’ll be your fault.”

“He won’t—he’s too intrigued now.”

“I wouldn’t bank on that,” Mr. Sawyer growled.

“You promised you’d help,” Mrs. Winthrop said, sounding peevish.

Mr. Sawyer frowned at her. “That story you told was the truth?”

“Of course it was.” She pressed a trembling hand to her bosom. “Are you accusing me of being a liar? Good gracious, Mr. Sawyer. And you call yourself a gentleman.”

For the first time, Mr. Sawyer looked flummoxed. “Ah.”

“She really does need your help.” Caleb shoved his hands into his pockets. “Will you listen?”

Chapter Eight

Walker wanted to grab Bruce Sawyer for a hug or a good smack to the jaw—he wasn’t sure which. His old friend still had a luxurious mustache, which didn’t quite fit his angular features. He dressed more like a dandy than ever—the large ring on his pinky sported a big diamond, and the fob on his watch chain had a circle of diamonds too.

“There are some chairs near the back of the store. Let’s sit.”

Bruce twitched his mustache. “Just talk. Why did you send the ladies after me?”

Walker looked over at Julianna. She glared back almost as fiercely as Bruce, practically daring him to make a fuss about leaving the store. She had to see how rattled he felt after she’d vanished with Mrs. Winthrop.

Annoyance and fear had roiled in him ever since Danny had delivered her message that she’d left the safety of the bookshop. He’d wanted to dash after the ladies, drag Julianna back to safety but he’d used all of his money for the awful breakfast and tossed the rest to Julianna at the hat shop. He had given up finding any of Gordon’s cash and was ready to run to Bruce’s house to find Julianna.

Thank God they’d come back.

And now he had to face his old friend. “Listen, Bruce.”

“I’m Mr. Sawyer to you.”

“All this time and you still haven’t forgiven me for doing my job that day?”

“Is that what this is about? You, looking for forgiveness?”

“No, no. But please know that at the time I arrested you, I didn’t understand that I was being used by corrupt men.”

“So you thought I was guilty, eh?”

“I didn’t know. I wasn’t privy to the details of the case. They sent me with Jenkins to bring you into the station—and that was the full extent of my involvement.” He’d tried to find out more later, but the detective on the case was remarkably closemouthed and didn’t seem to leave his cases out where curious coworkers might find them. And then Walker had been ordered to leave it alone. If he poked his nose where it didn’t belong, his captain told him, it would be cut off and he’d be out of a job. .

Walker glanced over at Julianna. When their eyes met, the corner of her mouth lifted—not a sneer, an encouraging smile. Walker felt buoyed. If he could convince her, a stern critic and protective mother, that he wasn’t all bad, he could do anything.

“I learned later what went on, but by then you wouldn’t speak to me. But today we are here to help Mrs. James Winthrop.”

“Why do you make helping her any of your business?”

“I take my duty as an officer of the law seriously.”
Again
, he silently added. It had been a long time.

He glanced over at Julianna, and once again, her gaze met his. She watched him constantly—that realization made his face grow hot, as if he were a boy of fourteen again and just discovering the young ladies.

He needed his wits for this explanation, so he swiveled until his back was to her, and he began to speak in a quiet voice to Bruce.

“Mrs. Winthrop pulled out the gun because you were trying to send word to someone, and the only people interested in my whereabouts don’t have my best interests at heart.”

Bruce pretended to yawn, a show of indifference. Damn, he was easy to read, even after the last few years of estrangement, which reminded Walker how much he’d missed his old friend.

“I realize you don’t care,” Walker said. “But I believe that the people who went after Mrs. Winthrop and her child on behalf of her father-in-law must be the same people who went after you.” He hoped the ladies wouldn’t point out he’d been one of the enforcers at the start of the day, anyway. “There are people who use the police department as their own private arm of enforcement. But you know that, don’t you.”

“Almost as well as you do,” Bruce said. “Why are you telling me something we both understand?”

“I’ve thought about you, Bruce.”

“Mr. Sawyer.”

Walker waved an impatient hand. “A man like you wouldn’t tolerate persecution. What have you done? Found information, I suspect. Do you know who paid to have you arrested? Do you know whom he used?”

“He used you, of course.”

“Good Lord, how many times do I have to tell you? I was under command.”

“Yes. That was true at first, but I understand you have meetings with people who are up to their eyebrows in this—people unrelated to the police department.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. So you’re aware of who is clean and who isn’t.”

“I don’t have all the names but I know you’re filthy.”

“That’s yesterday’s news, today’s fish wrap. I’ve changed.”

“Why should I believe you? For that matter,
why
have you changed?”

He pursed his lips and considered telling him the truth.
Julianna forced me to.
That wouldn’t wash. “It was time,” he said.

Julianna had drifted close. He caught a glimpse of the blue of skirt and the faintest hint of her bread-and-cinnamon scent. He wished he could turn and…what? Touch her? Draw her into an embrace?

She’d come back to him, safe, and the primitive need to hold her distracted him from all else—no doubt related to the fear he’d felt when he realized she’d gone after Sawyer and he might not see her again. Why would she bother with him if she could just vanish without a trace into the city at last?

He didn’t think much of his new, unsteady self. He’d never made such an abrupt change, so many of them too, in one day. From indifferent to burning to fight injustice again. From another sort of indifference to a wholehearted yearning to touch someone again.

He shifted a little to see her. She’d awakened him, and it was only fair after she’d roused him that she should stay around to see what he’d become after his long nap.

“Julianna!” her mother-in-law called from across the store. “Come and tell me what is happening.”

“Excuse me.” She paused. “But, Mr. Sawyer, you socialize with my father-in-law. Are you sure you’re not aligned with him somehow?”

“Not at all. Not if he employs Walker’s keepers.”

She opened her hands at her sides. “I must apologize, Mr. Sawyer. I thought you posed a real danger—otherwise I would never have threatened you.”

Bruce gave her a pleasant smile. “Think nothing of it, ma’am.”

“Thank you for your kindness, sir.” She nodded solemnly, then hurried off to her mother-in-law.

“You smile and forgive her. I only arrested you, and you have yet to pardon me,” Walker said.

For the first time in years, Sawyer directed a smile at him. “You never apologized, and you’re not as pretty as she.”

Walker opened his mouth to remind Sawyer he’d tried to say he was sorry in person and by letter several times, but he’d already given up, so he didn’t bother.

Instead, Walker said, “She pulled that gun on me this morning, and it was loaded then.”

“And you forgave her as well, obviously. Amazing what a pretty face will do for a woman.”

She’d become far more than a pretty face.

“But now you have definitely caught my interest,” Sawyer continued. “Tell me why she felt the need to shoot you. She and I will be good friends, I think, and a dislike of you is but our first bond.”

“No shooting. She only kidnapped me. It’s her hobby.” Walker gestured at the chairs in the corner. “I went on a long march this morning. Let’s sit, shall we?”

“Go on, then, talk if you must.”

So Walker began with his initial meeting in Gregory’s office.

“Gregory? The councilman?” Sawyer interrupted.

Walker nodded.

Sawyer looked excited. “So he would blackmail you for a crime you didn’t do? Using false witnesses?”

Walker considered agreeing and allowing his own crime to remain hidden, but he shook his head. “You’re correct about the blackmail and the false witnesses—no one saw me put the gun in the desk. But as for the other part, well… I was guilty of the crime of planting evidence.”

“You are a crooked cop,” Sawyer said. “That’s what you wanted to tell me? It’s hardly news to me.”

“That again? Sawyer, I don’t remember you being this tedious.”

Julianna returned to their little alcove in the bookstore, and both men rose to their feet.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Mother Winthrop says she will leave you gentlemen to your manly conversation, but she is terribly worried that Mr. Sawyer might assault Mr. Walker. The poor dear is trembling at the thought. She’s had her fill of violence, I think.”

Sawyer made sympathetic tut-tutting noises. He indicated his chair. “Perhaps you might take a seat, ma’am? You’re not afraid of manly business, I think.”

She sank onto the comfortable armchair across from Walker, who wished he’d made the offer first.

Sawyer grabbed a wooden chair and sat. He turned his attention to Walker, demanding, “Tell me—tell us—about your errands for your corrupt keepers.” Ah, Sawyer wanted Julianna to know the true depths of Walker’s depravity.

Walker ignored the demand. “You tell me, Mr. Sawyer, how did you get out of the charges pressed against you? You didn’t go to trial. I did some investigation and I know it wasn’t a matter of an enemy going after you. Did you have to fork over money?”

Bruce sighed. “Yes. I paid someone to make it go away, a single payment.”

Julianna gave a laugh, then rubbed her temple with two fingers as if she were developing a headache—which would hardly be surprising. “Only one payment? Wouldn’t that make him harder to catch?”

Walker said, “No doubt that’s his reason for avoiding too much greed. How did you pay?”

Sawyer grunted. “Cash. A bag full of it delivered to a warehouse. I hired someone to watch, but the villain managed to get the money without his notice.”

“A warehouse?”

“An old empty cotton warehouse not far from the Hell’s Kitchen docks. A friend who also had a similar encounter with the so-called law was instructed to place his money in a special cart in the Grand Central terminal. I’m eager to get started now that I know Mr. Gregory is involved. You have done me a great service forcing me to come to this shop, Mrs. Winthrop.” He rose.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Walker asked.

“To find out more about Mr. Gregory’s involvement. Some friends will be waiting for me at my house and I think they’ll be very interested in all of this. I’ll want to know more tomorrow from you, Walker.”

“We don’t have time for research. Mrs. Winthrop is under threat. Her mother-in-law informs me that I’m wanted by the police, so I can’t do anything. She requires your help to take steps now.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Bruce sat again, crossed his legs, and tapped the arms of the chair, the picture of an impatient man. He caught Julianna’s worried frown and gazed back with his charming, wide-eyed, and innocent smile that won him any number of feminine admirers. He used to employ that look with his mother when talking his way out of charges of mischief.

Walker didn’t trust that smile. “What are you thinking, Mr. Sawyer?”

“Of course, under other circumstances, the best way for her to gain respectability and perhaps put off the threats of her father-in-law is to marry again.”

“Oh no,” she said. Then a moment later. “But perhaps you’re right. Brennan has said as much. He might—”

“Not him.” Walker’s voice came out more belligerent than he expected. “He’s not respectable enough. You’d want someone of your class.”

“Someone like me.” But it was Bruce speaking, not Walker. “If I had a taste for adventure…”

She gave an incredulous snort. “You’d consider proposing to a woman you don’t know and who held a gun on you less than an hour ago? That’s not a taste for adventure, that’s lunatic.”

Sawyer laughed too. “I’ve been called both adventurous and a lunatic.”

A drop of perspiration ran down Walker’s neck, and his heart thumped harder than it ever had in his life, even harder than when he’d chased miscreants across markets and down alleys—it beat faster than when he’d stood in front of Gregory’s desk.

“Me,” he croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Marry me.”

Her smiling face twisted into a look of concern. “Mr. Walker, are you all right?”

“I am fine.” His voice came out loud and easy now. “Marry me, Mrs. Winthrop. Julianna. There is no wait required here in New York, and it would serve. My family is poor now, but no one would dare call us unrespectable.”

“The Walkers are indeed upright citizens,” Sawyer said. “Except this idiot here.”

“Marry me, Julianna,” Walker repeated, and it came out easily now.

“I am not that desperate,” she said, then winced. “I beg your pardon. That is to say, there are other, easier ways to make sure Mr. Winthrop and his friends leave me and Peter alone.”

“Maybe yes. But a marriage to me will help. It’ll do for now.”

“Marriage is not a temporary solution to anything,” she said, amused again. “You must have been befuddled by this very strange day.”

That could be true. Or he hadn’t had enough of her at that apartment. He gazed at her flushed face—perhaps she had similar thoughts, for she looked down at her hands and twisted her ring, an already familiar nervous habit.