City of Secrets

by Victoria Thompson

  “Isn’t that dangerous? The respectable neighborhood, I mean.”

  “Of course it is, which is why he needs our help. Don’t you see? We can guide him. We can introduce him to the right people.”

  “And what do we get in return?”

  “Half of the business. Maybe more than that. We can provide the house and the introductions.”

  “What house are you talking about? This house belongs to the church. We can’t—”

  “Knight’s house.”

  He blinked stupidly. “But we don’t own that house.”

  “Matthew does, or at least he owns the mortgage.”

  “What good does that do us, though?”

  “We can buy the mortgage from him and then foreclose, because Priscilla won’t be able to pay it and she won’t care about holding on to Knight’s house, in any case. Matthew won’t think anything of it, either. He never wanted the mortgage in the first place. He only took it because I asked him.”

  Peter smiled at the memory. “And you did it so if Knight ever reported the blackmail, he’d be implicated. Matthew never suspected a thing.”

  “Of course not. He still thinks I’m his creature.”

  “That’s been the most fun of all of this, knowing Matthew still thinks he’s in control. He’s going to be so surprised when he finds out what we’ve been doing right under his nose.”

  “Which is why we need to convince this Franklin to go in with us instead of Matthew. You have no idea how much a house like that can earn.”

  “And we’ll be rich, like Matthew is.”

  “Richer,” she assured him, glad to see he finally understood.

  He considered the possibilities for a long moment. “I’ll have to give up the church.”

  “You were going to anyway, when we had enough money.”

  “I’m glad we won’t be doing the blackmail anymore.”

  “I know it was difficult for you,” she soothed.

  “Poor Jenks. I still dream about him sometimes.”

  She managed not to roll her eyes. “But it was necessary. And won’t your father be furious when you leave the church?” she added to distract him.

  He brightened instantly. “Yes. Yes, he will. We’ll have to make sure he knows about the house and what’s going on there. Maybe we’ll invite him for a visit. Can you imagine his reaction when he realizes what we’ve done?”

  “That would be delicious,” she said, although she knew Nathan Honesdale would never accept an invitation to her home, even if it weren’t a brothel. They’d make sure the scandal touched him, though. Poor Peter didn’t seem to realize that any scandal that ruined his father’s name would ruin his, too, but she wasn’t going to point it out. Ruining Nathan Honesdale had always been one of her goals, ever since he’d told her she wasn’t welcome in his house, and she didn’t care if Peter’s good name got ruined, too. “I’ll need you to help me with Franklin.”

  “Certainly, my love.” He gave her the silly grin he thought was appealing. It wasn’t.

  If only she could get rid of him, but she would need him for a while yet. “Men like Franklin don’t like doing business with women. I’ll tell you what to say to him, but he won’t want to think I’m making any of the decisions.”

  “You know you can depend on me. Haven’t I proved that already?”

  “Yes, you have.” As difficult as it had been to convince him in the first place, she had to admit he had managed to follow her instructions so far.

  “What do we need to do now?”

  “This Ross fellow is going to let us know when Franklin arrives in the city. Then we’ll meet with him and find out exactly what he needs.”

  “And we’ll make it clear he won’t get it unless we’re his partners.”

  “I don’t think we need to be quite so uncompromising, darling. He could always seek out Matthew if we’re unreasonable. We should be as accommodating as possible, I think.”

  “Oh, of course. You’re right. What will he want from us?”

  “He’ll tell us, and we’ll be only too happy to help.”

  “Can we trust a man like that, though?”

  “Absolutely not, but he can’t trust us, either, can he, darling?”

  Peter smiled at that, because he didn’t know he couldn’t trust her, either.

  * * *

  • • •

  IN THE LIGHT OF DAY, GIDEON OBSERVED THE NEXT MORNING, Death Avenue didn’t look particularly dangerous. Pedestrians and vehicles, both motorized and horse-drawn, moved easily around and across the tracks that ran down the center of Eleventh Avenue. Even when a train came chugging along the tracks, no one seemed alarmed. In fact, they seemed almost oblivious to the danger such a huge vehicle could pose if one weren’t quite careful enough. True, it chugged very slowly, but it also would stop very slowly if someone were to slip and fall at just the wrong time. Still, pedestrians crossed in front of it with impunity, allowing themselves just enough time to clear the tracks to avoid disaster as the train went by.

  The now-legendary West Side Cowboy rode his horse ahead of the train to warn people and vehicles off the tracks. Dressed in a uniform coat of navy blue and sporting a large-brimmed Western hat, the rider held a red flag that presumably alerted everyone to the oncoming danger. Wasn’t he supposed to be waving the flag or something, to be more noticeable? Gideon couldn’t help observing, however, how many people and even vehicles hurried to cross in front of the train after the cowboy passed. So the cowboy’s warning obviously wasn’t as effective as it was supposed to be.

  Gideon tried to imagine the street after dark, the time when Endicott Knight had been hit. The train would have a spotlight and the cowboy would carry a lantern, but Gideon imagined his warning would be just as ineffective.

  Gideon had spent most of the morning trying to track down someone who could tell him about the night Endicott Knight had died, but the people in the office of the New York Central Railroad had claimed complete ignorance and referred him to the police. The detective who had investigated Knight’s death wasn’t on duty, and no one knew where he could be found. Finally, Gideon decided that the West Side Cowboy might know what had happened, since he’d undoubtedly been on the spot when Knight died.

  Gideon waited until the cowboy took a break and led his horse into a livery stable for a rest. The stalls were all full of horses, who turned their heads lazily to follow Gideon’s progress as he sauntered through. When Gideon found the cowboy, he had unsaddled his horse and was brushing him. Gideon introduced himself.

  “A lawyer, huh?” the young man said with a frown. Gideon guessed him to be about twenty. “That can’t be good.”

  “I’m just trying to find out some information for a friend of mine, about the man who got hit by the train a couple months ago.”

  “I don’t know nothing about it.”

  “But surely you remember when it happened.”

  “We all remember when it happened. Not too many folks get hit by the train anymore, and even then, it’s usually kids, fooling around. So for a grown man to get killed, that’s something you remember.”

  “Were there any witnesses?”

  “I told you, I don’t know nothing about it.”

  “But if you were there . . . ?”

  “I wasn’t there. I only work in the daytime.”

  “Who works at night, then?”

  “Lots of fellows. Lots of fellows work in the daytime, too. There’s twelve of us cowboys.”

  Why hadn’t Gideon realized that? It would take more than one person to guard the tracks twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. “Do you know who was working that night?”

  “I sure do, but why should I tell you?”

  “Because the dead man’s widow is still very upset, and she wants to know what happened to him.” He glanced around to see if a
nyone was listening, and of course nobody was, but he lowered his voice just the same. “They said it was an accident, but some people think he committed suicide, and his widow thinks somebody might’ve pushed him.”

  The cowboy’s eyes got big. “Pushed him? You mean on purpose?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  The young man whistled his amazement. “Sam was working that night. He says he still has nightmares. Your fellow got caught under the wheels. It wasn’t pretty.”

  Gideon could imagine. “Where can I find Sam?”

  “He’ll be at home, probably still sleeping if he worked last night.” The cowboy gave Gideon the address of Sam’s rooming house. “Do you think he saw the guy get pushed and that’s why he’s having nightmares?”

  Gideon had no idea, but he was determined to find out.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.”

  The West Side Cowboy named Sam hadn’t been awake long. He was unshaven and had apparently just pulled his trousers on over his long johns when the landlady had summoned him to meet his visitor. Like the other cowboy, he was a young man, but without the uniform and cowboy hat he wasn’t quite as impressive.

  “Your friend said you were still having nightmares.”

  “Who wouldn’t?”

  They were sitting in the threadbare parlor of the boardinghouse, a room most notable for how many sprung chairs it harbored. Gideon shifted a little to see if he could find a more comfortable spot on his. He couldn’t.

  “Can you tell me everything you remember from that night?”

  “Why should I? It wasn’t my fault. I did my job. Couldn’t nobody say I didn’t.”

  “I’m sure you did, but you must know how many people don’t pay any attention to you when you wave your flag.”

  “I use a lantern.”

  “Or your lantern.”

  “No, they don’t pay any attention at all. Sometimes I think people enjoy running out in front of the train after I go by, just to see how close they can come to getting run over.”

  “Do you think that’s what happened to Mr. Knight?”

  “Was that his name?”

  “Yes, Endicott Knight. His widow is very anxious to find out what really happened.” His widow and several other people.

  Sam winced. “She wouldn’t be if she knew.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Did you ever see a man get run over by a train?”

  “No, I’m happy to say. I imagine it’s pretty gruesome.”

  “Cut his arm clean off. His legs was all twisted and mangled. The train dragged him for a ways before it could stop.” He shuddered at the memory.

  “Did anyone see it happen?”

  “The engineer. There’s a light on the front of the train, and he yells at people to get out of the way when he sees them. Like you said, some folks don’t pay any mind to me trying to warn them off.”

  “And what did he see?”

  “You could ask him, I reckon, but he said this Knight fellow just stepped in front of the train and there was no way he could stop in time.”

  “He stepped in front of the train on purpose?”

  “That’s what he told the police, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see anything, remember? It was all behind me, and I don’t turn around to make sure people don’t act foolish. I got enough to do controlling the horse with all the traffic and the train and making sure I don’t run over anybody. So maybe he did just step in front of the train or maybe the engineer just said that so the railroad wouldn’t get blamed.”

  “Do you have a theory?”

  Sam made an expression of distaste. “They said he was drunk.”

  “That could explain it.”

  “I didn’t smell no liquor on him, though, and he was dressed real nice. Before he got blood all over him, of course, but you could still see he was wearing a nice suit, and his shoes was practically new.”

  “He could be dressed nicely and still be drunk.”

  “Yeah, but where did he get drunk? There isn’t any saloons for swells like him down on Eleventh. Just some stale beer dives where he’d get rolled in about ten seconds.”

  Since Gideon had no idea why Endicott Knight would have been in that part of the city at that hour under any circumstances, he couldn’t answer Sam’s question. Unless Endicott had gone there to kill himself. “Did anyone else see it happen?”

  “Nobody who came forward. The police got there pretty quick, but at night people can just slip away pretty easy.”

  “And what did the police say?”

  “I think they thought he’d killed himself, but they never came right out with it. That’s a tough thing to accuse somebody of when they can’t defend themselves, and this fellow sure couldn’t. Besides, he had that nice suit and those new shoes.”

  “So they didn’t want to say something bad about him because he might be an important person,” Gideon guessed.

  “Yeah. So they said he was just careless and it was an accident.”

  “And you didn’t see anybody with him? Or near him?”

  “I didn’t, but I wasn’t looking. I told you.”

  Yes, he had. Sam didn’t know the engineer’s name, although he often saw him, and he had nothing else to add. Gideon thanked him and apologized for dredging up bad memories.

  He considered returning to the railroad’s offices but thought better of it. They weren’t interested in talking about a man who’d gotten himself killed by one of their trains. Besides, if the engineer had seen someone push Knight, wouldn’t he have said so when it happened? In that case, the railroad wouldn’t have been responsible at all.

  Maybe he’d try the police again, although he suspected that even if someone really had pushed Endicott Knight in front of the train, no one else had seen it happen, either. Maybe Endicott Knight had simply reached the end of his rope. His fortune and Priscilla’s were gone, so he had nothing left with which to buy the blackmailer’s silence. He was facing financial and social ruin. And if what Gideon suspected about DeForrest Jenks’s death was true, Knight also carried the burden of having committed murder. If any man had a reason to commit suicide, it was he.

  The only question Gideon had now was what, if anything, should he do with this information? Normally, he’d go straight to Elizabeth with it, but would she even see him? And what would telling her accomplish when he couldn’t prove anything at all?

  * * *

  • • •

  MR. FRANKLIN WAS A TALL, SLENDER MAN WITH A SHOCK OF silver hair and bright blue eyes, and he wore a tailored suit in a pattern that was just a bit too loud for good taste. He and Ross came that evening after Ross telephoned to tell them Franklin had just arrived in the city and to make certain Daisy and Peter were available to meet with them. Daisy served them coffee in the parlor.

  “Leonard, you should have warned me that Mr. Honesdale is a man of God,” Franklin said with only a hint of irritation.

  “In his defense, he didn’t know,” Daisy said quickly. “I hope that doesn’t make any difference to you. It certainly doesn’t make any difference to Peter, does it, darling?”

  “Not at all,” Peter confirmed obediently. “It’s nothing more than a clever social disguise.”

  Franklin smiled and accepted the cup of coffee she offered. “It makes no difference to me, although it was a bit of a shock. I thought we’d come to the wrong house.”

  “Actually, we did. Or at least I did,” Ross said. “Our, uh, contacts told me this was where Matthew Honesdale lives.”

  “Matthew is my cousin,” Peter said. “More like a brother, really. My family took him in when his parents died.”

  “Then perhaps you’d like to include him in our discussions,” Franklin said. “I know he’s
been very successful with his enterprises, which was why he was recommended to me.”

  “I’m sure you’ll forgive me if I’m not anxious to include Matthew in our negotiations,” Peter said, just as she’d instructed him. “Daisy and I have helped Matthew in his business for a long time, but we’ve been wanting to sever that partnership. We’ve just been waiting for the right opportunity.”

  “Tell me,” Franklin said, “how does a minister manage to operate brothels?”

  “Very quietly,” Peter said with a knowing smile.

  “I’m sure.” He turned his razor-sharp gaze to Daisy. “Mrs. Honesdale, you told Leonard that you and Matthew Honesdale were partners. Exactly what does that mean?”

  “Just that I ran one of his houses.”

  “You were a madam,” he said baldly. At least he didn’t pretend to think he might have offended her.

  She nodded her acknowledgment.

  “Forgive me, Mrs. Honesdale, but I rarely see a woman in my business who is so obviously as, uh, well-bred as you are.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Franklin.” How nice of him to notice.

  “So naturally, I’m curious as to how you became involved.”

  “Not in the usual way, I assure you,” Daisy said. She didn’t want him to think she’d ever been a whore. “I was a widow operating a boardinghouse for young ladies, and Matthew Honesdale recruited one of my tenants.”

  “He was a cadet,” Franklin said.

  “Yes. He approached me about working together, and I saw the potential at once. Eventually, we opened a house together.”

  “I see. And you have a financial interest in his business?” Franklin directed this question to Peter.

  “Not as big an interest as we’d like,” Peter said. Franklin didn’t need to know they weren’t involved with Matthew at all.

  “And are you thinking you’d like to have a financial interest in my business?”

  “Yes,” Peter said. “In exchange for our knowledge of the city and our connections with powerful people who can protect your business.”