“Exactly.” Isaiah shrugged. “What do you think?”
Annie looked over at Simon. “Can you bring him in too?”
“Why don’t we pay Einhorn a visit instead, Annie?” Isaiah said. “One Texan to another?”
A short while later, they were knocking on the door of a small but tidy home on a street just barely removed from Whitechapel. When no one answered the door, Ike took several steps back to decide what to do next.
“Who are you?” came from behind him, and he turned around to see a man in boots and buckskins coming toward him. “What do you want?”
The Texan was of average height and build, his face pockmarked, and his dark hair cut short. His angry expression told Ike exactly how glad he was to see strangers on his doorstep.
“Are you Charlie Einhorn?” Ike asked, exaggerating his Texas drawl.
“I might be. Who’re you?”
Ike stuck out his hand. “Isaiah Joplin from Austin, Texas. I understand you worked for Bill Cody.”
“I might have,” he said, his scowl lessening. “You a reporter?”
“Hardly,” Ike said. “Annie and I were Pinkerton detectives. Now we do our own investigation. I’m not here on business though. I have a question about boots.”
“Boots?” He shook his head. “That’s a new one. People usually ask me about the Wild West Show or my wife.”
Ike shrugged. “I owe someone a pair of boots. Is there anyplace I can get some in London?”
“Not like we can get back home.” He glanced down at his footwear then back up at Ike. “I get mine resoled at a shop over on Hanbury Street. Had them done a few months ago, and they’ve lasted. If you need boots for your friend, you’re going to have to go back to Texas to get them.”
Hanbury Street was where Mary Chapman had been found in September of last year. Ike studied Charlie. “Thank you. I’m curious, Charlie. Why didn’t you go back with the rest of the show?”
“Don’t believe what you read in the newspapers,” he said. “It wasn’t a woman. If it had been, I’d own up to it. And that woman who was supposed to be my wife? That was all for the papers too.”
“What do you mean?”
“That woman wasn’t my wife. I’d never seen her before, but I was scared to tell anyone. He’s why I didn’t go back. He told me to take care of her and I didn’t. Well, I tried, but I couldn’t.”
“What are we talking about now, Charlie?”
“I didn’t go back because I had a better offer. Red Finney told me he would pay me to stick around here and watch out for his girl until he could return. He offered me a lot of money, and I took it.”
Charlie paused as if remembering. “He told me if something happened to his girl, he would ruin me. Well, he did all right. He knew she wasn’t one to stay home, but when she went out, it was my fault in his eyes. When she didn’t come home, that was my fault too. Red told ’em at the inquest that I’d married his girl and then got jealous. I didn’t hang for it because Bill Cody wrote a letter standing up for my character. After all that, knowing Red was back in Texas soured me on going home. So I stayed.”
Ike looked over at Annie. She shook her head.
“I’m going to ask you this, Charlie, only because I value your opinion. Do you know who’s been killing women in Whitechapel?”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “Well, it ain’t me. I wouldn’t.” He shook his head. “And I couldn’t.” He lifted his arm a few inches and then let it drop again. “I might’ve been an expert knifesman back then, but last winter I fell off a horse. Landed wrong and broke my arm. Couldn’t afford to set it, and it healed like this. So if I’m being honest, that’s the other reason I can’t go home. I don’t have a spot in the show anymore, and I’d just be a burden to my family.”
“I’m sorry,” Annie said. “That must be difficult.”
“Not so much as you would think,” he said. “I’ve made peace with it.”
“We won’t bother you further,” Ike told him. “I’ll take your advice on those boots and send them here from Texas.”
“It can’t be him,” Annie said when they’d left Charlie’s house. “He’s physically unable to make the motions that the killer would have to have made.”
“I agree. Right now we’ve got one suspect, and that’s the cook.”
“No,” Annie said firmly. “Granny wants Uncle Eddy thoroughly investigated. We should pay him a visit.”
Chapter 26
It didn’t take long for the detectives to locate Prince Eddy. They found him in the middle of a tennis game, which he immediately stopped when he saw Annie.
“Alice Anne,” he called. “Wonderful to see you. To what do I owe the honor?” He paused. “And who have you brought with you?”
Annie made the introductions and smiled. “There are discrepancies in your datebook. I came to find out why.”
“Discrepancies?” He shook his head. “Of what sort?”
“Of the sort that would give you an alibi for possible things you would not want to be associated with,” Annie said.
“There are several responses I could give you. I will say, however, that whatever you think I did, I assure you I did nothing of the sort.”
Annie shook her head. “That isn’t an answer, Uncle Eddy.”
“It is, dear,” he said. “You have come to find out if I spent time in Whitechapel doing things I ought not have done. And the answer is yes, I did. But I am not the man you’re looking for.”
“You know about that?”
He shrugged. “I find things out. Look, investigate. I will provide people to back up my statements. Truly, whatever is in my datebook is very likely where I was, because I am bound to keep my appointments or Granny will cut off my funding. And I cannot have that. So any mischief I get into is done outside of the days I have committed to represent the Crown.”
Annie nodded. “All right, Uncle Eddy. I believe you.”
Ike could tell she did. “You said that you find things out, sir. I wonder if you know about the Black Midnight.”
The prince’s eyes narrowed. Then he looked down at Annie. “You’re vouching for this man?”
“I am, Uncle Eddy.”
“Yes, I know about them,” he said. “And it is only because I don’t care one fig for their silliness that I am willing to admit it.”
“What silliness?” Annie asked him.
He glanced around and then looked over at Ike. “Oaths and rituals and such nonsense. I understand the purpose is to see justice done, but when the one who should be caught is kept safe because others have taken an oath of silence?” He shrugged. “Nonsense.”
“So the Black Midnight is protecting the killer?” Annie asked. “Why?”
“The oath,” he said as if she were a child. “They’re sworn to protect their brothers to the point of lying, Annie. I suppose you heard about the kerfuffle about the clue that was erased?”
“I read about it,” Annie said. “I believe that decision was made by the chief of police.”
“That’s what they told the papers,” he said. “But how often do these reporters get anything right anyway?”
“You have a point, but I must ask, Uncle Eddy. Do you know the name of the man who is killing these women? Is it a cook, perhaps?”
“No idea,” he told them. “But if you look at the members, you’ll find the man.”
“How do we do that, sir?” Ike asked. “We don’t know who they are.”
“That’s the question, now isn’t it? They’re an exclusive group,” he said as he reached over to embrace Annie. “Do take care of yourself and tell your father I am still waiting for his visit. The last time I was in Brighton, he missed me by a day.”
“I will,” she said.
Without another word, Prince Eddy turned and walked away.
And as he watched the prince go back to his tennis game, Ike had to agree he didn’t believe him capable of it either. The man could barely swing a tennis racket with any effectiveness.
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Annie climbed into the carriage and Ike followed. As soon as the door closed, he shook his head. “What do you make of all that, Annie?”
“Uncle Eddy is not our killer,” she said firmly. “As to the Black Midnight, I believe he’s a member.”
“Why?”
“A society that exclusive wouldn’t exist in that social circle if it excluded Prince Eddy. I also believe he doesn’t give a fig about it and has no qualms about telling us the secrets he’s bothered to remember.”
“Except the identity of the members,” Ike said. “He certainly didn’t give that information up.”
“No, he did not, whether out of loyalty or ignorance.” She let out a long breath. “What about the Malaysian cook? Until I spoke with Uncle Eddy, I thought we were on to something. Now I have to wonder.”
“It’s a convenient theory if you want to believe the killer in Austin is also our killer here.” Ike paused to give the idea more thought. “But is he? Your uncle thinks someone in the Black Midnight is covering for a killer in their midst. Would that killer also have struck in Austin?”
“The only way to know that is to compare the membership list to the possible suspects in Austin.” Annie shook her head. “Of course that’s impossible.”
The carriage delivered them to the offices of the Metropolitan Police a short while later. Simon met them in the hallway with a worried look on his face.
“Remember that cook you asked me to check into? I sent a man out to speak with him, but he was gone. Left this morning is what the landlady said. She let us in. He left some things in the room.” Simon paused. “Including a set of knives.”
Ike let out a long breath. “Any matches to our victims?”
“We’re checking on that, but that could take some time.” He paused. “What brings you here?”
“We’ve just come from visiting Uncle Eddy,” Annie told him. “It was an interesting conversation.”
Simon looked at her for a moment and then nodded. “Come with me.”
He led them down a corridor and up a flight of stairs to an office that was too small and devoid of personal items to be his. Indicating they should sit, the police officer closed the door.
“All right,” he said as he settled behind the desk and retrieved pencil and paper from the drawer, “what have you learned?”
“He’s not our man,” Ike offered. “But he may know who is.”
Annie shook her head. “Or he may not. Given what I know about my uncle, I think he’d say so if he did.”
Simon remained silent for a moment, steepling his hands as if in thought. Then he nodded. “Truly, I’ve never thought him a viable candidate, especially given your theory, Annie, that our killer and the Austin murderer are one and the same.”
She sighed. “It’s a good theory, but I’m less certain now than I have been. Though I stand by my assertion regarding the prince.”
“I think it safe to remove him from the list,” Simon told her. “The queen will wish to know we’ve cleared him.”
“I can tell her that.” Annie paused. “There is one more order of business, Simon, and it is a delicate matter.”
“Go on,” he said, exchanging glances with Ike.
“We need a membership list of the Black Midnight.”
Simon laughed. Then he sobered. “You’re serious.”
“Deadly serious,” Annie told him.
The policeman sat back, obviously flabbergasted. “How do you propose I get that?”
“However you can manage it,” she said. “Please let me know when you have it.” Then she rose with a smile. “We will see ourselves out.”
Ike withheld conversation until they’d returned to the carriage and were on their way back to the palace. “Annie, I am impressed,” he finally told her. “You made that request without cracking a smile. It was like you were serious.”
She looked over at him, her expression somber. “That is because I was.”
The next morning, Annie left a message with Granny’s private secretary and then rejoined Isaiah in the Yellow Drawing Room, where she resumed her study of copies of the police reports he had somehow managed to bring from Austin. When a footman appeared, she expected him to be delivering a word from the queen as to when they might speak.
Instead, there was a message that she had a visitor. “The American is waiting in the Green Drawing Room,” the footman said.
Isaiah looked up from his work. “An American visitor? Is his name Langston?” he asked the footman.
“No, sir,” he said. “He said he is a friend from New York.”
Annie took the man’s card from the footman and read it. Cameron Blake. Though her first instinct was to tear the card in half and banish the reporter from the castle, she let out a long breath and said instead, “Tell him I’ll speak with him.”
“Do you need me to come with you?” Isaiah asked.
“Of course not, but you’re busy and this is likely a social call that can be quickly ended. I’ll have the footman stay close.” She nodded toward the door. “Shall we?”
He led her to a smaller reception room where Cameron Blake was inspecting a Gainsborough painting hanging over the fireplace. He jolted and turned toward her when she said his name, acting as if he’d been caught with his finger in the jam jar.
“Thank you for seeing me,” he said as his confidence and composure swiftly returned.
“Good sense told me not to.”
“I’m glad that you didn’t listen to him.” The reporter smiled. “Good sense, that is. I assume his name is Isaiah Joplin, this good sense of yours.”
Annie stood her ground, the door still open and the footman easily seen just outside in the corridor. “What do you want, Mr. Blake?”
He affected a pout. “Is this how you treat an old friend come to call? And to think I bring news that may help you with a case I hear you’re working on.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right.” He nodded. “Moving on then. What do you know about an organization called Black Midnight?”
She schooled her features. “I understand a group of citizens in Austin dredged up an old myth in trying to flush out the name of the killer who stalked the city several years ago. Their efforts amounted to spreading some misinformation and hoping for the best. Ultimately they were not successful in finding the killer. Beyond that, I know nothing.”
“An old myth?” He shook his head. “You’re certain?”
“I am certain of very little anymore, Mr. Blake. Please get to the point.”
“I was sent over here to find out why Jack the Ripper hasn’t been caught. Rumor was that the palace was protecting the killer for reasons that you probably already know. I don’t believe that for a minute.”
He paused, obviously thinking Annie would respond. She did not.
“Right. Well, anyway, I believe the killer remains at large because there are men who are protecting him. Powerful men.” He paused. “And if I knew who those men were, I would also know whether our murderer spent time in Austin practicing his skills before he returned home to continue his craft here.”
So he’d come to the same conclusion as she had. Annie refused to let on that she agreed with him. Instead, she shrugged.
“Again, I fail to see what all of this has to do with me. So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be getting back to what I interrupted in order to meet with you.” Annie turned to go.
“The Black Midnight is no myth,” he said just loud enough for her to hear it. “Just ask your father.”
She whirled around to face him. “Get out.”
“Oh,” he said sweetly, “now I have touched on a sore subject. You haven’t talked to your father about this. You should. It’s why he wanted you home. You weren’t safe in Austin. The man who was killing women had become emboldened enough to move from servant girls to ladies of a different class. You might have been next, and he knew it.”
Annie summoned the footman. “Please e
scort Mr. Blake out, and do not allow him to return.”
She swept out of the room with her head held high and her fingers tucked into her pockets so the odious reporter would not see her hands shaking. Though she started toward the Yellow Drawing Room, she stopped short and summoned another footman.
“I will need a carriage, please,” she told him. “And let Mr. Joplin know I’m paying a visit to my father and will return shortly.”
By the time the carriage stopped in front of the family’s London townhouse, Annie’s courage had begun to wane. What if Cameron Blake was merely goading her? Surely Papa had nothing to do with such an organization.
He wasn’t involved in anything remotely related to law enforcement or detective work. Papa was an occasional lecturer in the subject of English history, for goodness’ sakes. And a retired one at that.
She found her father in his favorite chair in the library, an unlit pipe next to him and the scent of vanilla and leather in the air. Settling on the cowhide settee across from his chair, she waited for him to speak.
“I rather expected you,” he said. “What with that reporter friend of yours being turned away from my house a few hours ago. Did he complain to you that your father refused to speak with him?” He shook his head. “I am still upset that he saw fit to publish that piece of fiction about you and that Texan. I tried to pay him not to, you know.”
“I did not know,” she managed, immediately wondering why Papa’s offer of a payment wasn’t included in the story as well. “But that isn’t why I am here.” Annie paused a moment. “What do you know about the Black Midnight?”
He stared but did not speak at first. “Swirled in rumors that go back as far as time and keepers of an oath to see to the country’s safety however they see fit,” he finally said in that professorial way of his. “Why?”
“There has been an accusation that you are a member.”
His face gave away nothing. Then he laughed. “And that is why you are here? To find out if your father has joined such a group?” He shrugged. “Any answer I give will be suspect. You’ve already made up your mind. What do you think?”
“I think you know who is killing those women in London, or you know people who know. And you were aware that that same person was in Austin. When you discovered I was there too, you panicked and sent for me. When I did not immediately respond, you came for me yourself. Am I wrong?”
The Black Midnight Page 21