Mogul

by Joanna Shupe

  Calvin nearly laughed. He was more than excitable. Anger simmered in his blood, close to the surface, ready to ignite into something fierce and wild as soon as he found his quarry. His fingers itched with the need to wrap them around Lee’s throat and crush the life out of the man. “I cannot let this go. He tried to have her killed.”

  “But going there and confronting him will only get you killed. Think, Calvin.”

  Hugo was right, of course, but Calvin could hardly breathe from the fury choking him. “So I do nothing?”

  “You’ve done enough. The man inside the carriage will recover. Lee will want to hear what his assassin has to say before he kills him. Lee will learn what happened.”

  “Fuck,” Calvin growled through clenched teeth. “I hate when you are right.”

  “Yes, but that’s why you’ve remained alive much longer than you ought to have.”

  Calvin couldn’t argue with that. Listening to Hugo had saved his life on more than one occasion. “Fine. I want another word with him. You and the driver can drop him off at Lee’s doorstep when I’m through.”

  Stalking forward, Calvin hoisted himself into the carriage. The intruder’s eyes were closed, his breathing labored. Alive but hurting. Good. Calvin pressed on the side of an obviously broken nose. The man howled in pain, his eyelids flying open.

  Calvin withdrew his fingers. “I see I have your attention. Tell Lee that he’d better leave her alone. If he touches one hair on Lillian Davies’s head, his daughter won’t live to see another sunrise.”

  * * *

  Lily was many things—stubborn, opinionated, terrible with a needle and thread—but she was not stupid. A man had broken into her home last night to kill her. This was not a sign that Lee had accepted Calvin’s story regarding the missing girl. Furthermore, Calvin had hired a Pinkerton to guard her—over her objections—which meant the threat to her life was more serious than he was letting on.

  All of this led her to one unequivocal conclusion: Calvin was keeping secrets.

  No surprise, as it seemed to be what the man did best. Had he ever been honest with her about anything? She should have demanded answers a long time ago. But not from Calvin, because he would never give them. No, there was only one person Calvin trusted, one person who might be able to shed light on what was happening. And Lily planned to ambush him and force some answers.

  Before dawn Lily folded herself into a carriage and had her driver station them on East Fifty-Seventh Street, not far from Calvin’s modest town house. Three floors of sturdy brick, his home did not proclaim the owner a wealthy newspaper tycoon, though he was indeed that. Most men, her father included, wanted the world to see how far they’d risen, flaunting their money once acquired. But not Calvin. There’s no nobility in poverty, he’d once told her, obviously speaking from experience, yet he did not spend what he earned, not from what she had seen.

  Despite his mysterious background, Calvin clearly had not grown up with money. When she’d met him, he’d been living in a ramshackle gentleman’s boardinghouse, carving out a meager existence on a reporter’s wage. Even now, he dressed simply, did not travel heedlessly, buy yachts or indulge in horse racing. He’d been horrified when she’d given Petey her bracelet at the docks. Was it frugality, then?

  A few minutes after the sun rose the front door opened. A tall figure appeared, his open overcoat flapping behind him as he shoved a derby on his head, and bounded down the town-house steps. Calvin. Her heart stuttered at the sight of him. Wily and shrewd and so deliciously handsome he’d catch a woman’s notice covered in mud and wearing a burlap sack.

  This morning he was gloveless, a white bandage wrapped around his right hand. She could still recall the strength in his arms as he’d held her after the attack last night. She’d been so terrified for him in those few moments, sure that something awful would happen and she would lose him. Which made no sense, because she’d already lost him.

  Don’t tease me, Lily. You know it’s more than that.

  What in the name of St. Peter had he meant by that comment?

  Hugo descended next, trailing Calvin into the carriage. Lily opened the tiny window and spoke to her driver. “That’s them. Follow at a distance, please.”

  “Yes, miss,” her driver said.

  They set off, her carriage lagging behind at a discreet pace. The route suddenly became clear as the carriages turned downtown and continued toward City Hall. Calvin was headed to his offices on Park Row. Lily sagged in relief against the velvet seats. If he’d been going to visit a mistress . . .

  Come to think of it, she hadn’t heard of Calvin linked to any woman in a long time. But there had to be someone. A man like Calvin, with his energy and drive, wouldn’t remain celibate. A knot formed in her stomach that had nothing to do with the fact that she’d skipped breakfast today. With effort, she put the idea of Calvin with another woman out of her mind. There were bigger worries right now.

  When they stopped Calvin jumped out and hurried toward the Mercury building. The carriage didn’t move, merely sat there waiting. Lily made sure Calvin had disappeared and then lowered herself to the ground. She kept her head down and approached Calvin’s carriage.

  Yanking the door open, she quickly climbed inside. Hugo’s dark face registered his surprise, his jaw falling open slightly. He put aside the newspaper he’d been reading and sat up straighter. “Miss Davies?”

  “Good morning, Hugo.”

  “Mr. Cabot, he’ll be awhile. If you want, I can take you inside—”

  “I’m here to speak with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “Me?” He scratched his jaw and shifted uncomfortably.

  “Hugo, I need your help. You know Calvin better than anyone. He won’t tell me what’s really happening, but I need answers. Why did Mr. Lee send someone to kill me last night?”

  Hugo held up his hands. “Please, missus. You should ask Mr. Cabot about that. He can explain it best.”

  “But he won’t explain it. He piles lies on top of more lies, twisting and turning the facts to suit his purposes. Please, tell me what this is all about. I deserve to know.”

  The last sentence seemed to make Hugo even more uncomfortable, probably because it was true. Lily had been neck deep in this since it started, yet Calvin had deliberately kept much from her.

  “What has he said?”

  “Hardly anything. But Lee wouldn’t send a man to kill me if he didn’t believe me involved.”

  “That is not the reason. Hurting you was about hurting Mr. Cabot. If Lee harms you, it destroys Mr. Cabot.”

  Lee believed hurting her would destroy Calvin? Or was that Hugo’s interpretation? Lily couldn’t think about that right now. “Why is Mr. Lee trying to hurt Calvin?”

  “There’s a long history between those two, one you don’t want to involve yourself in, missus.”

  “But I’m already involved.” She tapped the toe of her boot on the floor of the carriage. “I don’t understand any of this. I feel as if there’s a piece of the puzzle missing and Calvin is the one who holds it.”

  The moment stretched until she thought Hugo wouldn’t answer. Disheartened, she sighed and reached for the door handle. Hugo blurted out, “Mr. Cabot, he made me a promise. A long time ago, before he met you.”

  She turned. “A promise?”

  “Yes. You see, before we left China, I married a woman. She stayed behind, but we had plans for her to join me once Mr. Cabot and I were settled here. Only we never dreamed it would be so difficult to bring her over once the laws changed.”

  “The Chinese Exclusion Act. I’m so sorry, Hugo.”

  He dipped his chin. “There were men there, back in my wife’s village. Bad men. If they knew she was married to me, they’d kill her. So I asked Mr. Cabot to tell everyone she was his wife, both the Chinese and American politicians he tried to bribe. It was easier that way. No one here would listen to me, and Mr. Cabot had started to make a name for himself with his papers.”

  She nodde
d, her heart breaking for Hugo. “But you didn’t succeed?”

  “Not yet, though Mr. Cabot will likely die trying to honor his promise. He believes he owes me, even though he’s already repaid me in many ways over the years.”

  “I still don’t understand what this has to do with Lee.”

  “About a year ago Mr. Cabot went to Lee and asked for his help with my wife. Lee agreed, but then stalled, and the weeks dragged on. Recently, Mr. Cabot started using his papers to put pressure on Lee.”

  Lily mulled this over. “Which is why Lee wants to hurt Calvin—to make the stories stop. But why me?” What did Lee, Hugo’s wife, and Calvin have to do with her? She thought back to the note from Lee, the one that had come with a photo of her and Calvin’s marriage certificate.

  Hugo grimaced—and then it hit her, rocking her back against the velvet seat. The annulment. Her father. Davies held all the cards. “My father found out, didn’t he? About your wife. He threatened Calvin with this information to . . . what? Tell me?”

  “No,” Hugo said. “Your father had copies of letters Mr. Cabot had written to politicians, offering money in exchange for skirting the law with his wife. Your father threatened to reveal him publicly as a bigamist.”

  The air left her lungs. A bigamist. Would her father have been so cruel? Lily would’ve been humiliated, even if it weren’t true. So why hadn’t her father informed her once the annulment papers were signed? And why hadn’t Calvin confessed it, trusted her to keep the secret?

  The last question bothered her the most. They had been married. Exchanged vows. Promised to love each other for better or worse. He’d been her only lover, the man she’d planned to share her life with.

  And he’d walked away instead of confiding in her.

  Her chest burned with hurt and confusion, a horrible pressure building behind her eyes.

  The direction of her thoughts must have shown on her face because Hugo said, “We discussed him telling you—”

  She held up a hand. Knowing the option had been considered and discarded did not reassure her; on the contrary, it made her feel considerably worse.

  “I understand,” she forced out, drawing in a deep breath for composure. “And I apologize for being petty. Here I am, complaining about something so trivial, when you’ve spent the last few years separated from the woman you love. If there’s anything I can do to help, anything at all, please ask.”

  “Thank you, missus.”

  Time to return to her original purpose. “So then, am I still in danger? Or did Calvin work things out with Mr. Lee last night?”

  “Calvin, he sent a strong message to Mr. Lee. I don’t think you’ll be experiencing any more trouble.”

  Well, that was the one piece of good news to come out of this venture. Suddenly, she wished she’d stayed in bed.

  She clasped the door handle but paused. While she had the chance, she had to ask Hugo one more thing. “Why do you still call me missus? The marriage was annulled.”

  His deep brown eyes held hers, unwavering. “You’ll always be Mr. Cabot’s wife, no matter what a piece of paper says.”

  * * *

  His quarry appeared even sooner than expected.

  Calvin had spent the morning dealing with his Mercury reporters, assigning stories and asking the status of ongoing investigations. Then he interviewed a new cartoonist as well as a potential typesetter. Just as he’d begun to review the financials of a St. Louis paper he was considering buying, Miss Robbs stuck her head in.

  “Sir, a Mr. Fields is here to see you.”

  Calvin leaned back in his chair, rocking slightly with anticipation. “Send him in.”

  She disappeared, and Calvin shifted to stare out the window. Manhattan was spread as far as the eye could see, with more buildings and houses being built every day. This was his city, the most important city in America. A place where wealth and innovation flowed. Nothing happened here that Calvin didn’t know about—or couldn’t find out about—and he’d learned quite a bit about Montgomery Fields in the last few days.

  And soon the world would learn it as well.

  The door opened and Fields strode in, impeccably dressed and groomed. His family came from old money, descended from the Dutch patroons of New Amsterdam, and Fields stood to inherit a tidy fortune when his father died. Calvin didn’t care about any of that. He wanted Fields out of New York and away from Lily.

  “Mr. Cabot,” Fields said politely, his hand extended. “Good morning. I hadn’t expected to be summoned down to Park Row today.”

  Calvin shook the man’s hand and gestured to the chair opposite his desk. “Would you care for a drink?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve a lunch scheduled at my club after we conclude our meeting.”

  When Fields had seated himself, Calvin reached for the afternoon edition waiting on his desk. It had come off the presses this morning and the newsies would start selling them in about two hours. “You might change your mind about a drink after you hear what I have to say. I asked you down here as a courtesy.” He tossed the paper and it landed faceup on the desk across from Fields.

  Fields leaned in to get a better look. “What’s this?”

  “It’s what we in the newspaper business call a ‘scoop.’”

  Fields paled and shot to his feet, the newsprint crumpled in his fist. “You cannot print this! It’s . . . it’ll ruin me.”

  “Well, ruin is a relative term. Financially, you won’t suffer. But socially . . .” Calvin shrugged and let the sentence hang.

  Fields studied the article, which Calvin knew by heart. Knew, because he’d dictated each paragraph, each sentence, each word of the story.

  FIELDS SCION OWNS TENDERLOIN LOVE NEST

  Fields dropped heavily into the chair, his jaw gone slack. “Why?” he whispered.

  Calvin couldn’t prevent the cold smile on his lips. “Information is my business. You also became my business when you declared your intentions toward my former wife.”

  “She was never your wife. The marriage was annulled,” Fields corrected, and Calvin gritted his teeth.

  “Let’s not split hairs. Upon learning your plans to marry Lily, I decided to dig a little deeper into one Mr. Montgomery Fields of Eight Hundred and Fifty-Two Fifth Avenue. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Mr. Fields spends the majority of his time at another address. One in not as desirable a location. And definitely not alone.”

  “I’ll fight this. I’ll sue you for slander . . . or libel. Whichever. This is patently unfair.”

  “It would be libel. Slander is spoken, not written. And you can try, Fields. Hard to prove when the story’s true, though. And I should warn you, if you do, I’ll print the rest of it.”

  A bead of sweat trickled down Fields’s hairline. He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and dabbed at his face. “The rest of what?”

  “Did you think I didn’t learn all of it? I know every detail of precisely who you spend your time with in that apartment and what you do with them.”

  “You know about the . . . ?”

  “Yes, I do,” Calvin confirmed. “I’m also aware that your father knows as well, and that he’s cut you off in an attempt to stop it. Which is why you were finally ready to marry Lily.”

  Fields closed his eyes, the truth apparent in the lines on his face. However, Calvin wasn’t quite done. “If you ever speak to Lillian Davies again, or if I don’t see you on the next boat out of the harbor, I’ll print all of it. Every last sordid detail.”

  “My family will be humiliated.” It came out as a whisper.

  “Yes, they would be. So leave New York, leave Lily, and the world will never know.”

  Fields drew a shaking hand over his mustache, smoothing it. “May I have that drink now?”

  Calvin opened the bottom drawer of his desk and withdrew a bottle of Kentucky’s best bourbon and a clean glass. He poured a healthy amount into the crystal and slid it over. Fields grasped it with shaking hands and brought the rim to his
mouth, downing the spirits in two swallows. He replaced the glass carefully.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Does she have any idea?”

  “No. I haven’t told her, but she’ll see the paper soon enough.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Does Lily have any idea what a cruel, manipulative bastard you are? That you would destroy a man’s life merely for wanting to marry her? I would have made her happy, you know.”

  White-hot anger jolted through Calvin’s body. He braced his hands on his desk, leaned in, and snarled, “Happy? Only because she would have no idea what a sick, twisted piece of shit you are until it was too goddamned late.”

  “You never would have bothered with me if not for your jealousy.” Fields rose, shoving his derby on his head. “I saw it clear as day while at breakfast in Newport. You hate that she could care for another man, even after you threw her away like garbage.”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I never threw her away and I’ll go to any lengths to protect her—annulment or not. Especially from men like you. Now, do we have a deal?”

  Fields nodded. “Enjoy your victory now, Cabot, because she’ll not easily forgive you for this.”

  Calvin said nothing, merely watched with considerable satisfaction as Montgomery Fields walked out of his office and out of Lily’s life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The late afternoon crowd bustled through Union Square, people narrowly avoiding the lumbering streetcars and carriages while crisscrossing the cobblestone streets. Between the workers on their daily commute, shoppers, and travelers, not to mention actors searching for work, the area was one of the busiest in Manhattan.

  Lily doubted she was good company today. She still smarted from her earlier conversation, the hurt from learning how little Calvin had trusted her. While she now understood Calvin’s reasons for signing the annulment, she wasn’t sure she could forgive him for walking away instead of confiding in her.

  She’d have stayed home today to lick her wounds if not for Cora’s earnest request for an afternoon of shopping. Lily had reluctantly agreed, not wanting to disappoint her cousin. Yet Cora seemed equally pensive. Her cousin stared out the carriage window, quieter than usual, nibbling her lip. Even for a girl who tended toward the serious, her mood seemed severe.