Unseemly Ambition (10 page)

Concordia sat back in her chair, took
off her spectacles, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Obviously
“one more day” had been too long, and the men from the alley had
caught up with her. But what had happened to Eli? Had he been with
her when she was killed? Concordia shuddered.

What had Florence been involved in,
that she had made enemies such as these?

She glanced again at the
postscript.
Ask Eli to show you the gift I
gave him.
However, both Eli and the gift—no
doubt the pocket watch Florence had given him at the settlement
house—were gone.

Capshaw needed to see this. It could
be the break in the case he needed. Besides, if Concordia were
honest with herself, she hoped to learn what progress Capshaw had
made.

But it was nearly dinnertime. She
would be expected to accompany the students in her charge to the
dining hall and eat at the faculty table. Surely the lady principal
would understand if she didn’t attend this time, although Dean
Maynard might not.

She would have to risk it.

Week 5, Instructor Calendar

March 1898

Sadie led Concordia to the Capshaws’
parlor, where she found Sophia pacing, as she was wont to do when
upset. Capshaw stood beside a wing chair, imploring her to sit
down. They both stopped when Concordia entered.

“
Aaron’s been taken off the
case,” Sophia said.

“
When? Why?” Concordia
turned to Capshaw. “They weren’t satisfied with your progress?” She
had difficulty believing the lieutenant would fail. “It’s only been
a week, after all.”

Capshaw made a low growling
sound in the back of this throat. “I
was
making progress. That’s what I
don’t understand. Chief Stiles called me to his office this morning
and notified me that I was being reassigned.”

“
Why?” Concordia
repeated.

Capshaw made a face. “He said I was
going too far afield in my investigation, spending too many man
hours on wild goose chases, looking into the background of Florence
Willoughby.”

Concordia started. “Willoughby? Not
Tooey?”

He nodded, pulling out his sheaf of
wadded notes. “Florence Cassandra Willoughby, thirty years old,
never married. Of the Providence Willoughbys. You may have heard of
them. “

Concordia nodded. “I think so. Is that
the family who supplies half of the dry goods’ retailers in New
England, and holds the summer cotillion every year in their Newport
mansion?”

“
The same.”

“
Speaking of her
background,” Concordia said, fishing in her reticule, “Florence
sent me this. It’s dated the day before she died.” She passed
Capshaw the letter.

Capshaw raised an eyebrow.
“She wrote to
you
?”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Your talent for becoming entangled
in murder investigations never ceases to amaze me.”

Concordia suppressed a smile as
Capshaw read through the letter, Sophia looking over his
shoulder.

“
I wish I’d seen
this
before
I was
off the case,” Capshaw said, glaring at Concordia. “I would have
been able to investigate the
unscrupulous
people
she mentions here, and that aborted
attack in the alley.”

“
I’m sorry,” Concordia
said. “I brought it over as soon as I found it.”

Sophia gave her husband a sharp eye
before turning back to Concordia. “Don’t mind Aaron. He’s upset
about Eli.”

Capshaw grimaced in
apology.

“
Isn’t an investigation
into Florence’s background a reasonable step, Lieutenant?”
Concordia asked. “Why would your chief object to that?”

Capshaw shook his head. “I don’t
know.”

“
Perhaps the family has
complained about your inquiries,” Sophia offered.

“
If so, they care more for
their privacy than catching their daughter’s killer,” Capshaw
retorted.

Sophia stopped pacing and sat down.
“And what about Eli?”

“
I asked the chief about
that,” Capshaw said. “He said the boy is clearly an unstable street
arab, and has probably moved on. The chief sees no connection to
Florence’s murder, even though she was the boy’s mother, and his
disappearance coincided with her death. Apparently,” he added
bitterly, “sentiment is clouding my judgment in the
matter.”

“
But Eli’s cat was found in
the room, with the body,” Concordia said.

“
Yes, I reminded him of
that. It’s absurd to believe that Eli is
not
involved,” Capshaw
said.

“
Has Chief Stiles ever
interfered with an investigation of yours before?” Sophia
asked.

Capshaw shook his head. “This bothers
me in many ways. He has replaced me with an officer who is new and
relatively inexperienced, and put me in charge of a minor case—over
at your school, in fact,” he added, looking at
Concordia.

Concordia started. “My
school?”

“
It seems there have been
reports of a strange man slipping past the gatekeeper and onto the
college grounds at odd hours. He hasn’t been caught yet; no one
knows who he is or what his purpose might be.”

That was fast, Concordia thought.
She’d only spoken with Clyde last night. Unless they were talking
about…. “Which one?” she asked.

Capshaw raised an eyebrow. “There are
more than one?”

Concordia nodded. “A youth, and an
older man.” She started with the youth, describing the times she
had seen him on the school grounds, including last
night.

“
But I was too far away for
a good look,” she said.

Capshaw scribbled in his oft-folded
wad of notes. “That doesn’t sound like the man I was instructed to
investigate, but I’ll check on him. What about the other
one?”

“
He was a large, burly man,
quite disagreeable. Unfortunately, I had closer contact with
him.”

Capshaw pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“The burly one sounds like the stranger the school has complained
about. He’s been seen on two occasions.”

Concordia shifted uneasily. “I didn’t
realize he’d returned. I only met him once.”

“
But you spoke to this
man?” Capshaw asked. “What did he say?”

“
He was obviously
intoxicated. He asked for Ruby, who wasn’t there. He held a
newspaper clipping and said he wanted to see
the famous Mrs. Hitchcock
. I had him
escorted off the grounds.”

Capshaw looked up with interest. “He
asked specifically for Ruby?”

Concordia nodded. “I spoke with her
later about it; she doesn’t have a clue who he might be. We think
the newspaper article is to blame. But surely, this is a simple
security matter that a less experienced policeman can
handle?”

“
That’s exactly my point!”
Capshaw exploded. “I cannot help but think the chief is under
orders to take me off the case.”

“
Orders from whom... and
why?” Sophia asked.

“
Perhaps you’re getting
close to learning something that someone else doesn’t want known,”
Concordia mused aloud. “The Willoughbys?”

“
It’s possible.” Capshaw
picked up Florence’s letter. “They may have been trying to keep
their daughter’s secret, which is a moot point now. One would think
that catching the killer would take precedence.”

“
Are they so influential
that the police chief would accede to their wishes?” Sophia
asked.

“
I don’t know.”

“
Can you investigate on
your own time, without Stiles finding out?” Concordia
asked.

“
I’m afraid that’s
impossible.” Capshaw said. “He warned me about attempting that very
thing. My activities will be closely monitored.”

Concordia bit back her disappointment.
The boy’s continued absence was twisting her stomach with worry.
Sophia and Capshaw must feel it even more deeply. Where could he
be? She hadn’t realized until now that all of her hope was resting
upon Capshaw’s detective abilities.

He was the only detective she knew,
and now….

She sat up a little
straighter. Capshaw was
not
the only detective she knew. There was someone
else.

The ever-perceptive Capshaw gave her a
sharp glance. “You’ve thought of something.”

“
I’m not sure you’re going
to like this. I think we need to call in an old friend to help
us.”

Sophia eyed them in confusion.
“Who?”

Capshaw tapped his pencil
thoughtfully. “Ah. You mean….”

“
Yes,” Concordia said,
“Penelope Hamilton.”

Sophia narrowed her eyes, puzzled.
“Miss Hamilton…wasn’t she the lady principal at the college a few
years ago? When you first started teaching there. How could she
possibly help us?”

Concordia gave her a wide
grin. “Not many people know this, Sophie, but Miss Hamilton is
a
Pinkerton
. If
anyone can help us, she can.”

You have been
hotly
call’d for.

Othello
,
I.ii

Week 5, Instructor Calendar

March 1898

It was well past dark when Concordia
reached the gate of Hartford Women’s College. Clyde scowled in
disapproval as he passed her a slip of paper.

“
Miss Pomeroy left this for
ya,” he said.

With a murmur of thanks, Concordia
opened it.

Concordia, please come to
my office when you get this. We need to have a chat. Yours,
Gertrude Pomeroy.

Concordia’s heart sank. While the tone
of the note was cordial enough, she knew she was in
trouble.

Only a few lamps glowed in the windows
of Founder’s Hall as Concordia crossed the quadrangle. No one
lingered outside on this chill March evening. She thought back to
her conversation with Capshaw, about the stranger—two of them—who
had been slipping onto campus at odd hours. For what purpose? She
shivered, and glanced over her shoulder one last time as she pulled
open the door of the Hall.

The lady principal’s light was on.
Concordia rapped lightly on the partly open door.

“
Come in!”

“
I received your note, Miss
Pomeroy,” Concordia began hesitantly.

“
Yes, yes,” Gertrude
Pomeroy said, pushing her spectacles back up her nose as she turned
away from her work. “Do sit down.”

Once again, that posed a problem, as
every surface was littered with papers and books.

“
Here,” Miss Pomeroy said,
shifting one pile aside and plunking it on top of another. “I’ve
been meaning to straighten things,” she added vaguely.

“
Now, Concordia,” the lady
principal said, when they both were seated, “I don’t want you to
take this the wrong way, my dear. You are an excellent teacher, and
your work is exemplary, but there is an issue….” Her voice trailed
off, and she hesitated.

Concordia sighed, knowing that
discipline was not Miss Pomeroy’s strong suit. “Miss Pomeroy, I
understand what you’re trying to say.”

Miss Pomeroy leaned forward in
surprise. “You do?”

“
You’re unhappy with my
frequent absences from campus lately. I’m quite sorry for that.
I’ve had some personal...issues come up.”

She didn’t want to have to explain
about Florence’s murder, Eli’s disappearance, or the setback in the
investigation. Miss Pomeroy didn’t know these people, except for
Eli, whom she probably hadn’t paid much attention to.

Gertrude Pomeroy nodded. “I see.
Unfortunately, your absences have been noted by others—”

“
Indeed they have,” a deep
voice interrupted, and Randolph Maynard walked in. Concordia
wondered how long the dean had been listening at the
door.

“
If your personal troubles
are causing you to shirk your duties, Miss Wells,” he continued,
glowering at her under those thick black brows, “you are free to
give notice and attend to them at your leisure. Here at the
college, we expect our staff to give the needs of the students
their highest priority.”

Concordia bit back a retort
about how the
male
staff were permitted to have private lives, without being
accused of compromising the care of their students.

“
That won’t be necessary,”
she merely said, through gritted teeth. Blast the man.

“
And
you
, Miss Pomeroy,” Maynard said,
turning to the lady principal, “the female teachers and students
are your responsibility. Are you going to permit your teaching
staff to simply leave whenever they wish, without a care for their
duties? What sort of example does this set for the students? You
are flirting with anarchy here.”