Until today he hadn’t.
“Yes.” She silenced any potential comment from him with a regal wave of her hand. “Well, actually, no. Not specifically you.”
“Especially not me. As I recall, your great-grandmother was not amused when she discovered you had taken up with an American involved in ‘the sordid and tawdry trade of information and such.’” He paused. “Did I get any of that wrong?”
“You did not,” she said, her expression unchanged and her blue eyes studying him.
Ike leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands. “So why are you here?”
“A simple proposal,” she told him.
“Last time there was a proposal between us, you said no.”
Was that the slightest reaction he noticed beneath that cool upper-crust British exterior? Ike held his smile at bay by reminding himself of how easily she’d set him aside back then.
“Sticking to the project at hand,” she said, ignoring his comment, “there is a situation in London that has not been remedied. Granny believes I might be able to offer some insight. I have, however, promised to remain out of the spotlight.”
“Unlike last time.”
Annie shrugged. “I’ve explained that the American press cannot be controlled. Not that the British press is any better, but they do understand the delicate balance of reporting when the monarchy is involved. And I’ve promised I will do my best to keep my face and name off their pages. But that is neither here nor there. As I said, I have a proposal. I wish to hire you.”
The door opened and someone stepped into the outer office. Since he hadn’t gotten around to hiring anyone to work for him just yet, Ike was doing double duty as boss and employee.
“Excuse me for a minute,” he told Annie before stepping out of his office to find Theodora Rampling waiting for him.
Dora was a Texas beauty with a pedigree that would make any Austin mama of sons want her to marry into their family. The only child of a senator and his upper-crust Boston bride, the woman smiling at him was pampered, adored, and deserving of both.
For some reason, she also happened to be crazy about him. And she wasn’t shy about admitting she was the jealous kind. The kind who wouldn’t respond well if she discovered the only woman he’d proposed marriage to was on the other side of the wall.
Ike kicked the door behind him shut with his boot and gave her what was certainly a nervous smile. “What a nice surprise.”
Dora looked beyond him to the closed door and then back up at Ike. “I’ve interrupted something.”
“Just a meeting,” he hurried to say. “Actually, not a meeting I’d planned. I had someone come in unexpectedly, and we were just discussing what I could do for her.”
At the word her, Dora’s dark eyes narrowed. “Anyone I know?”
The question left him looking for a good response. Knew? No. Knew of? Absolutely.
“I see,” she said in that tone he’d learned meant trouble.
Before he could get a word out, the pretty brunette pressed past him to open the door and step into his office. To her credit, Dora’s expression never changed, even when she spied Annie.
“Miss Walters,” she said in a completely neutral tone. “Ike didn’t tell me you were back in Austin.”
He stepped into the office in time to watch his past and his present shake hands.
Annie was standing now, her posture straight and her expression friendly. “Isaiah could not have known until I showed up without an appointment a few minutes ago.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, but do I know you? I cannot recall that I do.”
“Theodora Rampling.” She gave him a sideways look. “I don’t suppose Ike has mentioned me.”
“No, but then, he hasn’t had the chance. I only just arrived.” Annie’s gaze moved from her to him. “I shouldn’t have assumed you would be available upon my whim, Isaiah. I will have my secretary set a proper appointment. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“No,” Ike and Dora said in unison.
“There’s no need,” Dora said. “Continue your meeting. I’m only here to deliver an invitation for Ike to join Papa and me for dinner at the governor’s mansion tonight.” She fixed him with a look. “If you’re free, that is.”
“Of course I am,” Ike told her as he recalled a similar dinner at the mansion some years ago. He’d ended up with Annie in the garden and had been severely chastised by Mrs. Ireland, their hostess.
He’d also missed out on what might have been a memorable kiss under the stars.
Dora placed her hand on Ike’s sleeve, redirecting his thoughts. The smile on her face did not match the look in her eyes. “Excellent. Then why don’t you walk me out?” She turned to Annie. “I do hope you’ll have a nice stay in Austin. Are you planning a lengthy visit?”
“I’m not certain,” Annie told her. “It all depends. I am here on a matter of urgent business, so one never knows how long these things take.”
“Yes, one never knows,” Dora echoed. After saying her goodbyes to Annie, she led Ike to the door. This time it was Dora’s foot that slammed the door behind them.
“What is that woman doing here?” she demanded.
“I have no idea other than what she said. She’s here on business, and she just walked through the doors a few minutes before you did. That’s all I can tell you.”
She shook her head. “Get rid of her.”
“I was trying to when you walked in,” he said, not certain that was the truth. He’d been curious as to why she’d chosen him for whatever project she and Granny had in mind, but he certainly hadn’t committed to helping her.
Listening, yes. Helping? Probably not.
“No, you told me you were finding out what you could do for her.” She paused, and Ike realized her silence was more powerful than her words. “Have you decided what that is, dear?”
“Probably nothing, but I won’t know until the conversation is finished. As I said, I was trying to get to the end of what she was there for when you came in.”
“Then go and finish trying,” she said sweetly. “Pick me up at seven tonight. Papa will likely be at the capitol until just before dinner, so he plans to walk over. Wear that nice dark suit, please. You look so handsome in it.”
Her voice was a purr now. It was also loud enough to be heard on the other side of the door.
Dora Rampling was nothing if not insistent that she be the center of Ike’s world. A world made up of no one else but her, Ike, and anyone else who could further the political and social aspirations she held for the two of them.
“Seven it is,” he said, offering her a kiss on the cheek. “Do you need me to escort you to your buggy?”
“I need you to conclude your business with that woman and promise me you’ll be on time for dinner.” She reached up on tiptoe to whisper into his ear. “And I need you to tell her about me.”
“I don’t see how I can avoid any of these things,” he said, meaning it as a joke.
Her expression told him the joke fell flat. “Just do it, all right?” She swept out, leaving the scent of expensive perfume in her wake.
Ike watched the door close behind her and let out a long breath. Then he made his way back to his office and Annie.
“She’s lovely,” the Englishwoman said after Ike had settled back in his chair. “And territorial.”
Ike refused to grin, even though both statements were true. “You said you wanted to hire me. Do you need legal work? Because that’s all I do now.”
“Impossible,” she said with an imperious wave of her hand. “You’re too good to settle for this.”
“Contrary to what you may recall, I read the law before I turned to detective work, Annie.”
“I do recall,” she said. “And you admitted you hated every minute of it.”
“And that’s what makes you think I’m settling?”
Her response was a look that said everything he figured she was thinking. Ike knew those thoughts. He’d had them
himself.
Instead of giving him an answer, Annie stood abruptly, her gloves in one hand. She made quick work of donning those gloves. Finally, she met his gaze.
“I will get right to the point. It is possible that the killer we did not catch here in Austin is responsible for the recent killings in London. Though you appear to have retired from that life, I’m sure this news has not escaped your notice.”
It still irked him that the Midnight Assassin had never been caught. The husbands of the last two victims were tried, but neither conviction had stuck, leaving Austin with no answer to the murders that tormented the city back in ’84 and ’85.
“It has not escaped my notice,” Ike agreed. “But according to the newspapers, there have been no more verified killings in London since November.”
“And no arrest.” Annie paused as if considering her words. “I am willing to pay you enough to set you up nicely so you can pursue whatever political career Theodora seeks for you without any concern for your finances.”
Leave it to Annie to cut right to the heart of the matter. It only stung a little that she’d decided he had taken up lawyering to please Dora.
The worst of it was that Annie was not completely wrong.
“Why do you think we can catch him this time?”
“Because I have a plan.” She grinned. “Unfortunately, it might make you late for dinner.”
“How late?”
“A few weeks.” Annie shrugged. “No more than a month. I promise.”
Ike laughed. “And if I say no, what will you do?”
Annie didn’t miss a beat. “Continue investigating without you until this man is caught, whether on this side of the Atlantic or the other.”
Exactly what he’d expected she would say.
Ike rested his elbows on his desk. Dora would kill him. She’d get over it, of course, but she would throw a hissy fit to beat all hissy fits when he broke the news to her.
He let out a long breath and regarded her solemnly. “This had better be worth what I may be walking away from here.”
“Oh,” she said slowly, “it’s worth it. And if you were so worried about what you had here, you wouldn’t be considering it.”
It was Ike’s turn to ignore her. “Tell me about this plan.” For if there was one thing Ike had learned while working with her four years ago, it was that Annie always had a plan.
Austin
1885
Chapter 3
Four years earlier
Austin, Texas
December 21, 1885
The worst thing about ending an investigation one week before Christmas was not the paperwork nor the fact that she would never find a way back to Chicago before the holiday. She looked forward to neither of these, to be certain.
No, the worst of it was the incessant invitations by well-meaning folks who assumed that her status as a single woman alone in the city of Austin at the end of December required repairing. Which it most certainly did not.
Through her most recent investigation—in which Annie managed to ferret out the identities of a half dozen men who were providing subpar materials to contractors for use in the construction of state government buildings here in Texas—she’d been introduced to Governor John Ireland and his wife, Anna. Now the lovely couple was insisting she join them at a dinner being held this evening, with promises of other social events to follow.
Annie was far too well bred to show how she felt about such an inundation, though she did stifle a groan once she’d parted from the dear woman. Other invitations waited for her when she returned to her hotel, seven in all, each written out with perfect penmanship on beautifully monogrammed stationery, and every one of them vying for her company. To the stack of invitations, the clerk added a telegram.
“All the way from Chicago,” he announced loud enough for anyone in the lobby to hear. “It’s cold there this time of year, you know.”
“I, yes, well…” She nodded, being careful to keep her American accent intact. “I have heard that it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Annie tucked the envelopes into her satchel and turned her back on the clerk.
“Wait, miss.” The clerk hurried to step in front of her and thrust another envelope toward her. “Sorry, I was looking at all these stamps and forgot to put it back in your box. I’m a collector of unique stamps. Never seen any like these.”
She had. Frequently. But then, her great-grandmother had posed for the image they bore.
Annie retrieved the letter from his hand. This time she allowed “Thank you” to trail in her wake as she crossed the lobby and climbed the stairs to her second-floor room.
Once in her room, she made sure the door was bolted, then tossed her bag and the letter onto the desk. After a glance around to confirm the room had not been touched since she left it this morning, Annie went to stand at the window.
Across the way, Mr. Driskill’s hotel was going up. Down below, Congress Street was bustling with carts, buggies, and pedestrians. If she strained her neck to look beyond the construction, she could see the capitol.
After a moment, Annie turned away from the window to seat herself at the desk. Between the satchel and paperwork she ought to be completing and the stack of letters and invitations, it was all she could do not to toss all of it into the wastebasket in favor of a nap.
She never slept well on assignments, so the first thing Annie did once a job had come to an end was to return home, close the curtains, soak in a hot bath, then hide away beneath the luxurious bedding she’d brought with her from London.
Her bedding was in Chicago, but she’d brought her lavender bath salts and would use them later. Eventually she would be home again in her bed. The paperwork, however, was here to stay until she dispensed with it.
Rather than dwell on what could very quickly become a topic of self-pity, Annie retrieved both her paperwork and the correspondence from the satchel, then placed it on the floor beside her. After sorting through the invitations, she set them all aside and opened the telegram.
NEW ITEM ADDED. MEET TONIGHT AT PALM TREES. CI
Frowning, Annie dropped the telegram from Captain Hezekiah Ingram, her superior at the agency, onto the desk. A new item was code for a new case that would be handled by an agent already on the scene.
She let out a long breath. So much for that warm soak and her soft bed in Chicago.
A glance at the clock told her she would have neither in Austin—at least not before the driver came to whisk her away to the governor’s mansion.
Failing any chance at a rest, she tackled the work at hand. Then she set her attention on preparations for the remainder of the day.
By the time the messenger knocked to alert her to the presence of the driver downstairs, she had answered half of the correspondence, sent a response to the captain, and changed into a gown suitable for an evening with dignitaries.
The ride up Congress Avenue was uneventful, and the weather was mild compared to December in Chicago or London. It was a lovely evening.
In what seemed like only a few minutes, Annie stood in front of the governor’s mansion. There were no palm trees in sight for her meeting, so she made her way up onto the wide front porch of Governor Ireland’s home.
A glance at the scene behind her revealed a lovely view of the city at sunset and the sweep of green pastureland beyond.
She turned back toward the door just as it opened, revealing a uniformed butler who bid her enter. Offering her greetings to the governor and his wife at the entrance to the massive double parlor, Annie then moved past them to step inside.
The parlor was decorated in the latest style, with gaslights flickering overhead and fires crackling in the fireplaces that book-ended the room. Thick carpets muffled footsteps, while curtains reminiscent of Granny’s receiving room at Windsor Castle hung from the windows.
The space was at once elegant yet welcoming, formal yet inviting. For a man whose next stop just might be the White House, the governor’s mansion was an e
xcellent start.
After making her way through an obstacle course populated by politicians whose faces she recognized from the newspapers and their beautifully dressed and bejeweled wives, she spied the palm trees—a row of them covering what appeared to be a bank of windows or possibly doors—that allowed for close proximity to two exits as well as a full view of the parlor.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t the first one there.
She rolled her eyes at Isaiah Joplin, the Pinkerton detective who had positioned himself behind a collection of potted palms that had been arranged in front of a glass door. While Isaiah was an excellent detective with whom she had worked on multiple occasions, he was also a relentless suitor known to surprise her on occasion.
“You’re not the captain.”
“Hello, Annie.”
Any ill humor she felt at being marooned in Texas vanished at the sight of his broad smile. Still, Annie decided to give him a bit of trouble before she admitted she was glad to see him.
“Why are you hiding, Isaiah? Have you been left off the guest list?”
“Of course I was invited. My family and the governor’s go way back.” He grasped her wrist and pulled her behind the palm trees. “Let’s get out of here.”
“This is highly inappropriate,” Annie whispered. “Even for you.”
“I resent that remark,” he said in a teasing tone that told her he felt the exact opposite. “And I am here on Pinkerton business, same as you. What did you think I was about to do?”
Had she still worn that sheen of British propriety, Annie might have blushed at the thought of the kiss she’d hoped would be forthcoming. But she had been in America long enough to shed all of that proper English nonsense, at least where it had to do with Isaiah Joplin.
Annie slid deeper into the darkness behind the hedge of palms, moving into his arms with ease. It had been several months since she’d seen him, and the nearness of him felt like a homecoming of sorts.
A roar of applause, quickly followed by peals of laughter, went up on the other side of the palm trees. Wedged here beside Isaiah, the parlor and guests seemed a thousand miles away.
The Black Midnight Page 2