The Black Midnight

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “People are upset,” Annie said. “They believe the killer they thought they were safe from has returned.”

  “Which is why we’re determined to catch him,” the deputy marshal said. “If you’re finished with my evidence, I’ll take it now.”

  Ike took another long look at the pieces of wood and committed the images to memory. Owing to the size, the owner of the footprint was very likely going be a large man. He also had an odd anomaly.

  Ike pointed to the oddly shaped portion of the print on the floorboard. “Deputy Marshal,” Ike said, “tell me what you see there.”

  After squinting and leaning forward, the lawman straightened. “Looks to me like the fellow might be missing a toe.” He paused. “Or it could be that there wasn’t sufficient blood in that one spot to give evidence of the toe that was there. He’s a big man though. But that is what the previous witnesses stated.”

  “How big is Jimmy Phillips?”

  The deputy marshal frowned. “I don’t know. He was abed all of the time I was there. I guess we need to find that out, don’t we?”

  “We do,” Annie stated.

  “You realize, though, that a man carrying something heavy can cause a print to spread,” White continued. “So we may have definitive proof of who killed her or we may have a distorted print that will just muddy the waters.”

  Ike nodded. “But we have something.”

  “We do.” He paused. “I’m going to see that this evidence is preserved. I do hope if either of you Pinkerton detectives were to learn anything important you would have the good sense to tell me about it.”

  “Of course,” Annie said. “Might we expect the same courtesy extended to us?”

  He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “Ma’am, with all due respect, you are a paid employee of the Pinkerton Detective Agency sent here to try to fix the mess that the lawmen of this city have allowed to go on over the course of a year. You are here because our mayor panicked, and you answer to the man who deposited the money in your boss’s bank account. I answer only to the people of Texas. While I am willing to share information, I have no obligation to do so. I hope that you will remember this.”

  “We are acutely aware of that fact, Deputy Marshal White,” Ike said. “But we are all working toward the same goal. We want this killer stopped.”

  “Yes, well, that is true.” He gathered up the evidence, tipped his hat at Annie, then walked away.

  “Well,” she said, “for the first time in a very long time, I cannot decide what to think about someone. I cannot tell if that man is for us or against us.”

  “As he said, his obligation is to answer to the people. And the people want to be safe. He’s going to make sure they feel that way.” Ike shrugged. “Having said all of that, he will do the right thing.”

  “Which is?” Annie said.

  “Tell the truth. Let the evidence speak. And bring in a killer.”

  “That last part may be a little hopeful,” she said. “He has evaded capture for a year and has become brazen enough to venture into the homes of two women who come from a different segment of society than the previous victims. Eula Phillips lived in the best neighborhood in Austin. She was beautiful, loved, and protected. And she ended up dead in the most horrendous way.”

  “Let’s talk about this in the carriage on the way to Hickory Street,” he said. “There are too many sets of eyes and ears here.” He groaned. “And here comes your friend the reporter.”

  Annie stood. “See if you can get us through this crowd in the most expedient manner. I will follow behind you.”

  Ike nodded, then grasped her hand and plowed his way through the throng. Cameron Blake spied them but couldn’t get to them owing to the men who milled about.

  A moment later, Ike stepped out onto the sidewalk and hurried to the spot where he’d left the carriage. He’d just managed to get Annie situated when Blake caught up to them.

  “Running from me? I’m hurt.”

  He made a gesture like his heart was broken, and it was all Ike could do not to react. Instead, he brushed past the man and climbed into the carriage.

  “Miss Walters, you’ll be wanting this telegram.”

  Ike leaned over to snatch the paper Blake was holding. Sure enough, it was a telegram. He handed it to Annie, who looked at it with what appeared to be a mix of curiosity and horror.

  “Why would you have this?” she demanded.

  Blake shrugged. “I happened to stop in at your hotel to pay a cordial visit and see if we could continue the conversation we were having on the twenty-third. I was told you had checked out. Poor clerk had no idea where you’d gone, and he was in possession of that. So I assured him I would see that you received it.” He paused. “And now you have.”

  “Yes, well. Thank you, I suppose,” she managed before looking up from the telegram to focus on the reporter. “However, if you ever are brazen enough to pay for private and personal correspondence of mine to be put into your slimy hands, please know that I will prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law.”

  “Oh, Miss Walters,” he said gently. “Is that any way for a woman of your station to behave?”

  A woman of your station.

  Annie froze. Surely he couldn’t know. Yet she knew he did. It was the only explanation.

  “Drive, please,” she said to Isaiah, who quickly grasped the reins.

  Unfortunately, the throng milling about on the streets prevented the swift exit that Annie desperately desired. Thus Cameron Blake still stood on the sidewalk smiling at her.

  At both of them.

  “You’re quite the enigma, Miss Walters. A lady Pinkerton detective with a lovely British accent. You do understand I had to investigate. I have been told you’re highly thought of at the Chicago office.”

  She ignored him. Meanwhile, Ike had waved over a young man and was speaking with him about something that appeared to be urgent.

  “I am planning a story about last night’s murders. Can I get a statement from you or Detective Joplin regarding the allegation that the Midnight Assassin or, as some call him, the Servant Girl Annihilator, has come out of retirement and was well rested enough to take down two Austin wives in their beds?”

  Only one was in her bed when she was killed. Annie refused to correct him.

  “No, of course you wouldn’t comment. It is too early in the investigation. My source says new evidence was brought in today. Any idea what it was?”

  Annie sat facing straight ahead.

  “Right. Well, okay. If I cannot get enough information on the subject of this investigation and clues that may lead to finding the killer or killers—because we don’t know whether there is one or more—then I will have to set my attention elsewhere for my next story.”

  Ike leaned past Annie to stare down at the reporter. “You obviously have other sources. We are not included in that number, Blake. I have been nice, but that is about to end.”

  “So you’re threatening me?” He grinned. “Please do. I would love to quote you.”

  A whistle went up on the road, and it was Ike’s turn to grin. “Quote away, Blake. Detective Walters might be above prosecuting you for fraud and a list of other things, but I have no such compunctions.”

  He turned his attention back to the road where a path had been miraculously cleared by the youth and his two friends. Ike tossed the boy three coins, and they were off.

  Annie sat very still, clutching the telegram, terrified to open it and see what the reporter had read. Because surely he had read it. What other purpose would he have for assuring a clerk he would make the delivery?

  Then she froze as a thought occurred.

  “Isaiah, I left a forwarding address with the hotel. They knew where I would be. Remember, I received a telegram yesterday? You accepted it while you were outside retrieving packages.”

  He frowned. “Yes, I did.”

  Annie unfolded the telegram and looked down. Due to the rocking of the carriage, the wor
ds jumped and swam on the page.

  “Would you mind finding a place to stop so I can read this?”

  When Isaiah complied a few minutes later, she tried again. This time the words were absolutely clear and readable, though it might have been better if they had not been.

  VISIT FROM HRH IMMINENT. HE DEMANDS TO SEE HIS DAUGHTER. RETURN IMMEDIATELY.

  Annie crumpled the telegram and crammed it into her pocket. Though tears threatened, she would not cry. Instead, she straightened her backbone and looked over at Isaiah.

  “Has something happened?”

  “Not yet,” she said. “Would you please stop at the telegraph office before we go any farther?”

  Once there, Annie sent a brief response:

  CANNOT RETURN. CASE TOO IMPORTANT TO LEAVE. PLEASE KEEP LOCATION CONFIDENTIAL.

  If that did not suffice, she would know very soon. In the meantime, there was nothing more she could do to stall her father.

  Now to handle the other pending issue.

  She looked at the telegraph operator and introduced herself, presenting her badge. “I understand I received a telegram this morning from Chicago.”

  “You did, Miss Walters. I dispatched it to your hotel by messenger.”

  “And I received it. From a messenger. But not at my hotel. Do you know a reporter named Cameron Blake?”

  His guilty expression answered the question for her. Annie offered a stare that riveted him in place.

  “Yes, I thought so, although he told me he got it from a clerk at my hotel.”

  The telegraph operator hung his head. “It was what we arranged.”

  “I thought so. I will remind you that I am a Pinkerton detective and as such may be receiving confidential information through telegrams. Your release of that information would be considered a serious crime. I have not yet decided if I will prosecute, but be aware that it is a possibility.”

  “I didn’t mean any harm,” he protested. “I thought I was helping you get it faster. That’s what Mr. Blake said.”

  “The next time you and Mr. Blake conspire together, I promise you both will be going to jail. And as I said, I haven’t decided about this time yet. So from now on you will hand my telegrams, if any should arrive, only to me. Not to a clerk and certainly not to a reporter. If you must send a messenger, it will only be to tell me I have a telegram that must be picked up. Is that clear?”

  At his nod, she walked out the door and returned to the carriage where Isaiah gave her a questioning look. She sat very straight, her heart racing.

  Finally, she swiveled to look at Isaiah.

  “What was in the telegram, Annie?”

  “A demand that I return to Chicago because HRH is arriving and wants to see me.”

  He let out a long breath. “I see.”

  “Meanwhile, the telegraph operator has been warned I am prepared to prosecute, and HRH will have to wait. I am working a case.”

  “Annie,” he said, warning in his voice. “Is that wise?”

  “I won’t even ask which of those things I just told you about you’re referring to, and I certainly will not comment further. So if we are going to try to interview Jimmy Phillips, let’s get to it.” She paused. “I assume that’s the reason for returning.”

  “That and getting a look at the scene during daylight hours. We may see something now that we didn’t see earlier.”

  “Should we intrude on Christmas, Isaiah? It just feels wrong.”

  “I have a feeling there will be plenty of others there,” he said. “The crime scene is fresh. We have to do our jobs.”

  “Right. Yes.”

  Annie sat back as Isaiah set the carriage in motion again. Rather than think about the telegrams and the pesky New York reporter, she set her mind on recalling the details of last night’s murder. Retracing the steps in her mind, though skipping past the image of Eula, she relived each moment as best she could.

  Then her thoughts stuttered to a stop. She hadn’t seen the second victim of the crime. Not clearly anyway.

  “What was Jimmy Phillips wearing?”

  “Wearing?” He shook his head. “I’d have to think about that. All I remember is the blood. His injury was to the head, so that made a mess.”

  “But he was awake and speaking according to the police reports.”

  “I suppose, though I did not hear him talking in the brief time I stood in the door.” They rode in silence for a few minutes, then Isaiah sat bolt upright. “An overcoat!”

  Chapter 21

  Annie shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Jimmy Phillips had on trousers, a shirt, red socks—I remember they were red because I thought at first it might be blood—and an overcoat draped over his shoulders.”

  “Oh,” Annie exclaimed. “That is interesting. Why an overcoat and no shoes?”

  “Why an overcoat at all?” he mused. “Maybe I’m remembering it wrong.”

  “Your description fits what I saw too,” Isaiah and Annie were told a few minutes later by an Austin police officer who had been on the scene. “Thought it was odd, but then, maybe he got cold sometime before the killer got to him. All I know is that if he survives this, it’ll be a miracle.”

  “We would like to speak with him,” Isaiah said.

  “Not possible,” the officer told them.

  “May we just see him, then?”

  He thought a minute, then nodded. “The family has moved him out of the room where it happened. Let me check and see what’s what.” He came back a moment later and said, “Follow me. And make it quick.”

  They stepped into a darkened room where the bandaged form of a man lay presumably sleeping. Annie held back to survey the room and its contents. She decided that since it was devoid of any personal items or decoration, it must have been used as a guest room.

  Isaiah stood over the patient. “Jimmy,” he said, “are you awake?”

  Nothing. Isaiah said his name again, and this time Jimmy stirred.

  “Did you do it, Jimmy?” Isaiah asked.

  Jimmy’s eyes stared. His mouth moved but no words came out.

  “What in the world?”

  Annie turned around to see an older woman there. The policeman who’d led them to the room scrambled to catch up to her.

  “These are the Pinkerton detectives, ma’am. They are here to help.”

  Annie reached out to touch the woman’s sleeve. “Is there anything you can add that would help us find the man who did this to Jimmy and his wife?”

  “It all happened so quietly,” she said. “For all of this…” Tears rose. “Well, for what happened, why didn’t I hear anything? I just don’t understand.”

  Mrs. Phillips’s tears fell in earnest. The police officer stepped in. “You should go now.”

  “Just one more question, Mrs. Phillips,” Annie said gently. “I wonder if you can recall a detail about your son’s clothing last night.”

  “I will try.”

  “His socks,” she said. “I understand they were red.”

  “Yes, they were,” she replied. “I removed them myself when they finally let me see to him. Oh, my poor boy,” she said before the tears fell in earnest.

  “About those socks,” Annie persisted. “Were they damp or dry? And if they were damp, was it with water or blood?”

  “I don’t exactly recall.” She shook her head. “There was so much blood. So much. I just wasn’t thinking clearly. And he was hurting so bad.”

  “Where are the socks now?”

  “I had everything cleaned. I didn’t want Jimmy to see the mess when he woke up again.”

  “Who did that cleaning?” Annie asked.

  “Why are there so many questions?” she wailed, and the police officer stepped between them.

  “Go now.”

  Isaiah walked outside with Annie behind him. The room where Jimmy had been injured was locked. “We need to find that maid.”

  A search turned up a terrified servant girl who confirmed Mrs. Phi
llips’s story. “I did the washing, but it was all put together in a bloody mess. It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” she said. “The police took everything.”

  “So you don’t recall if there was blood on the socks or if they were wet?”

  “Oh, there was blood,” she told them, “but whether that was from the blood that was on everything else or not, I can’t say.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “The police collected all the clothing while it was still sopping wet. I’m just waiting for family to come get me,” she said. “I can’t stay here anymore.”

  With nothing else to see indoors, Annie led the way to the back of the property where plenty of gawkers were milling about. “This is as bad as the police station,” she complained. “There’s nothing left of the original crime scene to see.”

  “You just missed the dogs,” one of the men said to Isaiah. “Fellow brought out another set. Says he’s going to find the killer. He gave them the scent, and they took off that way.” He gestured toward the other side of the fence. “Been gone just a few minutes.”

  Isaiah leaned toward her. “Let’s go see what we can find out at the Hancock home. If the dogs catch someone, we’ll hear about it soon enough.”

  They drove to Water Street where much the same scene of chaos greeted them. “They’ve had their troubles,” one of the men outside said. “But I haven’t ever known him to hurt her.”

  Isaiah quickly took his statement, and they moved inside. There they found the Hancock daughters struggling to keep their composure. Neither could offer any new clues.

  “We’d been out at the Presbyterian church Christmas event,” the older one said.

  “She was like that when we came home,” the younger one added before dissolving into tears.

  A short while later, they returned to the carriage. “Well?” Annie asked him. “What are your thoughts?”

  “My thoughts are that a man cannot cause that much harm to another person and escape undetected.” He paused. “But that’s what has been said about every other murder the monster is tied to.”