Unseemly Ambition (43 page)

“
I don’t know.”

Maynard gritted his teeth. They were
getting nowhere with the man. It had to be someone from the Inner
Circle setting the bombs. Except for Hitchcock, they didn’t seem
too trusting of hired help. Who was in the group? Maynard was sure,
now, that the cuff links he’d been asked to order were for the
Circle. Besides Flynn and Isley, who were the other three? No,
four, he remembered. There had been a pin, too.

Whoever had set the devices must have
nerves of steel, he thought. Bold and confident. And the
pin….

He had a chilling
thought.
No. It couldn’t be.

“
Where is your wife?” he
asked again.

Isley shrugged but said
nothing.

The policeman took restraining cuffs
out of his pocket. “Mr. Isley, I am taking you into
custody.”

Strike on the tinder,
ho!

Give me a taper! call up
all my people!

Othello
, I.i

Week 14, Instructor
Calendar

May 1898

At last, the police vehicles pulled up
to City Hall Square. Even though the candidate’s breakfast had not
yet begun, spectators were already occupying positions outside near
the speakers’ platform, set up the evening before.

Capshaw and Maloney hopped out before
the carriage came to a full stop. Capshaw paused and gave Concordia
a stern look. “Stay here.” Then he was gone.

Concordia, all too aware of her
unsuitable attire, wasn’t tempted to go anywhere. She did watch out
of the window as the police began dispersing people. She saw
Capshaw quickly cross State Street and enter the Long Brothers’
Palace Restaurant and Hotel. She sighed and leaned back against the
cushions.

Concordia awoke to the sun
in her eyes. She sat upright and gazed out the window.
Mercy,
how late was it?
She wished she had her watch.

The people, more of them now and
lingering out of idle curiosity, had been moved farther back. She
could see Capshaw and Maloney out in the square, crawling around
the platform structure. What about the hotel? Had they found any
devices in the breakfast room?

With people gathering in
the square, she was having trouble seeing what was going on. Maybe
she could get a
little
closer. She climbed out of the vehicle and closed the
door.

“
Miss Wells?” asked a
high-pitched voice.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of
her stomach, Concordia recognized that voice. She turned to see
Miss Pomeroy, accompanied by Miss Lovelace and her friends. What
she wouldn’t give to be in a skirt right now.

Miss Pomeroy gave her a startled look
over the tops of her spectacles. The young ladies smothered giggles
behind their gloved hands.

Just a few steps behind Miss Pomeroy
was David Bradley, looking even more startled than he had the day
she had nearly run him down with her bicycle.

Concordia flushed. “It’s a long story.
I’ll tell you about it once we’re back to campus.”

Miss Pomeroy nodded in her usual
absent-minded way, but David was not so obliging. He looked her up
and down, taking in the sight of her rolled-up trousers, over-sized
shirt and jacket, bedraggled hair, and slippered feet. Concordia
felt a hot flush creep up her neck and face.

“
Why are you dressed like
that?” he demanded. “And out here in public! This utter lack of
propriety is uncharacteristic of you, Concordia.” He peered more
closely at her face. “And is that a
bruise
on your cheek?”

The students fidgeted, alternating
glances between Concordia and David.

Concordia fought the conflicting
sensations of wanting to crawl back in the carriage to hide and
wanting to slap David’s face. She settled for something close to
the latter.

“
It is indeed a bruise,”
she answered tartly. “Thank you for your concern.”

David took a step back. Then his face
softened and he drew closer. “Are you all right? What
happened?”

Concordia shuddered at the
memory of the past few hours and gave him a glare.
“
Now
you ask? Which
do you care more about, the propriety of my appearance, or my
well-being?”

Miss Pomeroy put a protective arm
around a trembling Concordia. “Perhaps it would be best if you
leave us now, Mr. Bradley. Thank you for your escort. We’ll see you
back at the school.”

“
But—”

“
Thank you, Mr. Bradley,”
Gertrude Pomeroy said firmly.

Tight-lipped, David turned on his heel
and stalked off.

Miss Lovelace rummaged in her purse
and pulled out a handkerchief. “Here, Miss Wells.” Concordia wiped
her eyes and blew her nose.

“
Don’t worry. We’ll get it
all straightened out later,” the lady principal said to Concordia
consolingly. “You have to admit—” her lips twitched in amusement
“—your appearance
is
rather startling. Some gentlemen aren’t as…well, shall we
say,
flexible
…in
their thinking. I’m sure it was a shock to the poor man.” She
gestured toward the square. “Why have the police blocked it off?
What’s wrong?”

“
They believe there are
bombs hidden at the site of today’s debate,” Concordia explained.
She looked across the square to see Capshaw and Maloney quickly
crawl out from under the platform structure and sprint in their
direction. “I think he’s found something,” she said, excitement
making her voice squeak.

“
All of you...need to stand
farther back,” Capshaw huffed when he reached them. He caught his
breath and turned to Maloney. “Doc Turbridge’s is one block down
Prospect. Striped awning.
Hurry.
”

Maloney ran for all he was
worth.

“
You’ve found one?”
Concordia asked.

Capshaw shook his head.
“We’ve found
two.
”

“
Two bombs?” Miss Pomeroy
asked incredulously.

One of the girls sucked in a
breath.

“
Are they the first you’ve
found?” Concordia asked. “What about the breakfast
room?”

“
Nothing in the restaurant.
We combed it thoroughly.”

“
So there isn’t a third
one?” Concordia asked.

“
Just these two. I imagine
Hitchcock ran out of time to construct a third,” Capshaw said. He
took a deep breath and cast a glance back at the platform. “Two is
plenty,” he added soberly.

“
Can you dismantle them?”
Concordia asked.

Capshaw pulled at his mustache
distractedly. “We’ve already taken care of one.” He pointed to a
stand of shrubbery at the periphery of the square, where several
policemen were gathered, one carrying a large bucket of water. “We
found it there. The trigger mechanism was wired to the device from
the outside. A simple snip of the relays took care of it, but we’ll
soak it, just to be sure.”

“
But the other one—”
Concordia began.

“—
is more complicated,”
Capshaw finished. “It’s a much larger device, cleverly concealed
beneath Candidate Quint’s podium. Everything—explosive, fuse,
timer—is contained within the casing. I’ve removed the access
plate, but the opening is narrow. I don’t have fine enough
instruments to reach in, find the right wires, and cut them.
Maloney’s on his way to the dentist, to see if he has the tools we
need.”

Even as Capshaw was talking, the young
ladies were whispering with great animation. Miss Lovelace pulled a
familiar-looking canvas pouch from her reticule. Concordia
recognized it as the improvised tool kit from their bicycle ride.
Was it only last month? It seemed ages ago.

“
Lieutenant,” Miss Lovelace
said, extricating narrow-nosed pliers and a pair of slim forceps,
“will these do?” She handed them to an astonished
Capshaw.

“
Oh, and let’s give him the
long-handled jeweler’s screwdriver we just added to our
collection,” one of the girls said. “That would be perfect for
delicate work.” She plucked it out of the bag and passed it to
Capshaw.

“
Oh, how I wish we could
see this device up close!” another girl exclaimed.

Capshaw’s look was
unreadable. “Astonishing,” he murmured. “Thank you, ladies.
Now
please
, move
back.” He gestured to a patrolman standing beside the prison
van.

The man hurried over. “I need you to
assist me,” Capshaw said. “It will take too long for Maloney to get
back, and now I have what I need.”

The policeman paled. “Me, sir? But I
don’t know anything about them contraptions.”

“
No need,” Capshaw assured
him. “You simply hold the lantern and hand me tools.”

“
But what about the
prisoner?” The patrolman pointed a thumb toward the police
van.

Capshaw glanced inside. Flynn was
asleep, curled on the wooden bench against the wall of the vehicle.
Capshaw shook the heavy barred door to make sure it was locked
tight. “He’s not going anywhere. Come on. There’s no time to
lose.”

As the pair hurried back to the
platform, the crowd that had gathered stirred restlessly, aware
that something was about to happen. The police had their hands
full, keeping people at bay.

“
Oh, now I can’t see!” Miss
Lovelace complained, as several men pushed in front of
them.

Concordia pointed to a small rise at
the back end of the square, situated at a distance behind the
platform. “We’ll be out of the way up there, and still able to
see.” She turned to Miss Pomeroy. “Do you mind that we stay? I can
explain everything later, but I need to make sure this turns out
all right.”

Miss Pomeroy nodded. “I must admit, I
too am curious.”

On the slope, the view was somewhat
improved. Concordia could see Capshaw and his assistant crouching
under the platform, although she couldn’t see the device itself.
She watched for a sign, any sign, that things were going well.
Judging from the rigidity of Capshaw’s back, and how many times the
patrolman rubbed sweaty palms on his trouser legs, progress was
slow.

Looking beyond the platform, Concordia
saw Mr. Sanders and his Democratic opponent Mr. Quint chatting
amiably with one another and the people surrounding them.
Apparently, not even the threat of death or bodily injury was
enough to stop politicians from drumming up potential
votes.

“
Look!” One of the girls
pointed, and Concordia turned her attention back to the platform.
“He’s reaching for the wire cutters now. They must be nearly
finished.”

Sure enough, they soon saw Capshaw
heave a sigh and drop his head as he sat back on his heels. The
patrolman had a big grin on his face. He mopped his brow with a
handkerchief.

“
Thank goodness,” Concordia
breathed.

Miss Pomeroy touched her arm. “I’m
taking the girls back to the school. Obviously, there won’t be a
debate today.” She looked Concordia up and down and grimaced. “I
would suggest that you accompany us, but your attire would cause
quite a stir on the trolley. Do you have a way to get
back?”

Concordia nodded. “I’ll have the
lieutenant arrange for my transportation. I’ll see you soon.” She
smiled at the students. “Your help was invaluable today. It may
very well have made all the difference in the outcome.”

The girls flushed and followed Miss
Pomeroy.

Concordia rubbed at her stiff neck. It
would be good to get back to Willow Cottage, and sleep. She
surveyed the thinning crowd along the square, wondering if Barton
Isley had been arrested yet.

A figure moving at the periphery
caught her eye. It was a familiar-looking youth. Where had she seen
him before?

Of
course
.

It was the man she’d seen on a snowy,
moonlit night, when she had gone to retrieve a scarf on Rook’s
Hill, and then again, weeks later, after the senior auditions.
Concordia stood on tiptoe and craned her neck for a better look.
Yes, it was the same slender build, the same tilt of the head, the
same stride. Who was he?

The man turned his face in her
direction, and she gasped.

Lily Isley.

It all made sense. The
versatile actress, adept at costume and charade. Why
couldn’t
she pass herself
off as a man?

But why would she wear such a
disguise?

Then she had her answer.

Just behind Lily, shouldering his way
through the crowd, was Robert Flynn.

Concordia’s mouth dropped open in
shock. How had Lily freed him from the van, with all of these
policemen underfoot?

Lily locked eyes with Concordia across
the square. She nudged Flynn, and they both ran, Lily’s cap coming
off and her hair tumbling free down her back.