The Devil's Dime (The Samaritan Files)

by Bailey Bristol

  “Even though she never knew?”

  Ford shifted his fingers to grasp Addie’s hand as he spoke of her mother. “It would have shamed her, broken her heart. But if I had to do it again, I...I don’t know.”

  Jess rolled the thought around for a moment, and tucked the lesson in it somewhere deep inside for future study. There were many colors of shame. Maybe the one Ford kept from Addie’s mother was the one color she could have lived with. But it wasn’t for him to say.

  Addie’s soft voice broke the silence with a tentative question. “How did you know it was Jeremiah?”

  When there was no answer for a long while, Jess looked over at Ford. He just sat there shaking his head slowly back and forth.

  “I just got lucky, darlin’. Plain ol’ dumb luck.”

  “How d’you mean?” Jess asked.

  Ford worked his thumb across the empty place where Addie’s amethyst ring had left its impression on her finger. “Workin’ for the railroad was never what I thought I’d do with my life. But the railroad was good to me. So, when I got this idea I was goin’ to buy us a cottage somewhere down the line, away from the city, the Hudson River Rail did me a favor. Or at least, I thought it was a favor.”

  Ford huffed out a long sigh. “I’d get paid a second full shift for runnin’ mailbags out to Albany. Just the engine, no cars. Easy money. I figured in two years I’d have enough to buy a place. Little cottage, y’ know? With a porch an’ all.

  “Some nights I was to pick up an Albany fellow runnin’ payroll back up to Manhattan. I tell ya, Jess, the longer I had that hired shotgun around, the more suspicious I got about what he was carryin’, and who he was carryin’ it for.

  “So one night I followed him. Turns out he made deliveries to a bunch of flophouses in the Gut. The last one was McGlory’s. I didn’t know it was the last until he didn’t come out for a while. I was just leaving when I heard the door opening, so I stopped and pretended I was fumblin’ for a smoke.

  “When I turned around, it wasn’t him at all. It was my brother-in-law. Jeremiah. Well, hell, I thought he was in the institution, so I took up followin’ him.

  “He was in a real bad way. Not really drunk, but staggerin’, like his head was gonna explode. He’d stop and cuss at a lamp post, and then go on up the street. And ’fore I knew it, he was across the street from our place, me and Julia’s. That’s when he got real weird.

  “I thought he was gonna kill himself, he banged his head so hard on the buildin’. He’d look up at our balcony and mutter or rant, then bang his head and walk in circles.

  “Well, I had no idea what to do. I thought I’d keep followin’ and find out where he was stayin’, then I’d get the doc out at the institution to come pick him up.

  “And then all hell broke loose. Jeremiah took off runnin’. Down alleys, across yards, over fences. I couldn’t hardly keep up. And when I did lose him, I just hunkered down on the sidewalk and tried to catch my breath.

  “I was forty years old, Jess. He was fifteen years younger ’n me. I didn’t have a chance of catchin’ him, so I was gonna head home.

  “And then I heard the screamin’.”

  Ford just sat and shook his head for a bit. He lifted his hand from Addie’s, as if what he was about to say was too raw, but she pulled his hand back into her own.

  “I ran toward the screamin’ and knocked him off her. I couldn’t believe how much...damage he’d done. So fast. I had to help her. I couldn’t chase after him, or she’d bleed to death.

  “As soon as I heard the police comin’ I took off. If I’d stayed, they might’ve asked me who did it, and I woulda told ’em. And I knew Julia would never forgive me that.

  “So I just left.”

  Ford fell quiet.

  “When the police showed up,” Jess ventured, “was it by any chance Deacon Trumbull?”

  Ford huffed. “Trumbull? Hell, no. It was his beat, too. He shoulda been there. So after a dozen times and I still hadn’t caught Jeremiah, I sent an anonymous note to the newspaper. They checked it out and published the fact that even though Trumbull was on duty each of those nights, he never showed up at a one of those attacks. The hullabaloo cost him a promotion, I heard.”

  “That hardly seems enough for him to come at you now with so much vengeance. Not that a skunk like that needed a reason.”

  “I know some skunks that’d take offense to bein’ compared to the likes o’ Deacon Trumbull, Jess, but you’re right. There was more.

  “I finally figured out that the attacks only happened on the nights Jeremiah went to McGlory’s. And those were always the same nights I brought my passenger up from Albany to make his deliveries. Whether he picked up something from Jeremiah or brought something to him, I never knew. I just kept comin’ closer to gettin’ Jeremiah. He’d get so far ahead sometimes I’d be two, three blocks away when I heard the screamin’. But finally, one night, I was just across the street a few yards back when he jumped the girl. I got there and got him off her, and she ran like a bat outta hell. I clobbered him so hard I figured he was either dead or next to it.

  “I got him out to Williamsbridge ’fore he knew what hit him. But...” Ford sighed heavily, “Julia had already left by then. The most I could do was look after them and keep sendin’ Trumbull anonymous letters ’til he finally closed down. By then I knew that Trumbull’s penny ante scam was arranging burglaries in houses he was supposed to be protecting, and that Jeremiah was one of his best boys at getting into tight places and coming away with the best booty. He was so good that he regularly got the ‘reward’ of going up to Heaven and relieving opium drunks of their valuables. Trumbull was madder than heck that I put his best catburglar back in the institution.

  “If you ask me, Doc, I’d say Trumbull didn’t send someone out here to kill Jeremiah. I think it was to spring him from this place and get him back on the prowl.”

  Doc nodded. “But by the time they found him here, Jeremiah had turned a corner. He didn’t want to live in that darkness any longer. And...” Doc gave a long sigh, “he saved my life.”

  Ford turned a sheepish grin on his daughter. “He was a sick man, darlin’, he...he hated your mother without reason. But she...” he shook his head, “...she never said an unkind word about her brother. All those years she thought he was dead, she put a bow on the Christmas tree every year, just for him.”

  Addie caught her breath at this last revelation, and dropped Jess’s hand to fall into her father’s huge embrace. Jess watched, a painful bevy of emotions twisting at his heart. How quickly she’d grown to love the man.

  And now Jess was just going to take her away from him again.

  Chapter Thirty

  Addie was on a euphoric high. Her eyes shone with it, her mouth curved up with delight in it, and the relief of it after so many days of worry had lightened her step. The bank had sent word that Miss Adelaide Magee was most welcome to resume her position as teller, an invitation which she had politely declined. Thanks to her new benefactors—her father, and a prestigious local Conservatory—she was free to immerse herself in her music.

  Ford was just helping her into the carriage when Jess trotted up Lizzie Chalmers’ lane on Dakota, the horse he’d been unable to resist when Uncle Hazard had offered it for sale at an insanely low price.

  “Jess! Oh, wonderful! I didn’t know you were coming today!” Addie waved and called from the carriage seat.

  Jess cantered the horse around the carriage and stopped alongside it. He tipped his hat to Ford and answered Addie’s glowing smile.

  “Going for a ride, you two?”

  “Going home!” Addie exclaimed. “At last!”

  Jess’s smile faltered. She looked so eager. She and Ford had stayed on for two days at Lizzie’s invitation, and basked in her good cooking, her fussing, and her personal style of restorative therapy. Feeling she could take on the world, the idea of going home had brought the color back to Addie’s cheeks.

  “I’ve been offered a studio at th
e Conservatory and I’ll be teaching a few hours each week. Cherise said the department head practically haunted the bakery until she finally agreed to get word to me of his offer.” She grinned and squared her shoulders. “You may now address me as Professor Magee.”

  She turned and beamed at her father who hadn’t been able to take his eyes off his exuberant daughter. Couldn’t he see it wasn’t safe for her to be traipsing around New York City? But they’d had that talk, and Ford had maintained that she’d be safe. Her name had been kept out of the publicized reports, and of the three men who’d endangered her, two were dead and one was permanently behind bars.

  “Well, then. Congratulations, Professor.” Jess winked and Addie sighed.

  Dakota shifted his weight and rocked Jess closer to the carriage. His hand rested on his knee, and Addie reached her hand up and laid her fingers softly on his. He took her hand and caressed it slowly with his thumb.

  “Will I see you tonight?” Her voice was quiet, her enthusiasm checked, a hopeful note unmistakable in her tone.

  Jess looked down at her hand and then back into her dark, waiting eyes. He kissed her fingers, then cleared his throat. “I’m staying here for a while.”

  Her eyes flew wide. “You’re what?”

  “I’ve rented a place just up the road. I can write the column from there. It’s a great base for me, and I can stable Dakota there. I want you to see it, Addie. I—”

  “But...Jess! I thought we...”

  “I’m not meant for the city, Addie. Nearly everything I need is right here. In Williamsbridge.”

  “Nearly everything?”

  A lump blocked his throat now, and he saw glistening pools begin to form in Addie’s eyes. She hadn’t expected this, and it suddenly felt cruel. But her father had asked him for time with his daughter, and Jess owed him that at the very least.

  His hand tightened on the rein and Dakota shied away from the carriage, pulling their hands apart.

  “You’re playing again Friday? At the hotel?”

  Addie nodded slowly, unable to answer. Neither of them had been ready to let go, but Dakota had taken care of that.

  “I’ll be there.” Jess tipped his hat to Ford. “Take care o’ her, y’ hear?”

  Ford nodded and Jess dug his spurs into the unsuspecting black, leaving behind a stunned and silent Addie as he and Dakota thundered down the lane and out of sight.

  . . .

  Jess stared at the Blickensderfer as if he could will it to spill words onto the page. The blank sheet had been rolled into the platen for so long that it had wilted. Six hours, and it was still blank.

  Liar. Three days and six hours and it was still blank.

  He’d become intimately familiar with his new cottage in those three days, finding endless distractions to keep from writing. He’d fixed the shutters in the sunroom. He’d shaved a half inch off the table legs until the table was just the right height for typing. The Blick was still the Blick.

  He’d had his chair sent out from the Times. The old one. And then he’d had the great pleasure of moving his office furniture—the smooth mahogany and supple leather Deacon Trumbull had gifted him on the devil’s dime—into Gus’s corner office. It looked really fine there. And Gus hadn’t stopped smiling yet.

  Jess rubbed his thumbs across the worn arms of his ancient chair. He’d written his best work sitting right here in its hard, unforgiving embrace. But today the words wouldn’t come. Each time he stopped puttering and sat down and willed the words to flow, the same five letters blocked every coherent thought.

  A.D.D.I.E.

  It was impossible to drive the image of her dancing eyes from his mind. They’d sparkled with such anticipation, such eagerness to get to New York City and her new teaching post.

  Exactly the way he’d hoped her eyes would dance when she answered the question he’d been too much of a coward to ask.

  Jess pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, sending flashes of red exploding against his lids. But still her merry brown eyes taunted him. How much time would she need before he and his cottage could mean as much to her as she did to him?

  Three months? Six? A year?

  Jess fingered the small packet in his pocket, the velvet pouch holding Addie’s amethyst ring. They’d only just found it in Hamilton Jensen’s valise, and when his mother recovered from her grief enough to check on her jewels, she insisted that particular ring—although quite spectacular—was not hers. Fortunately she’d gone to Peckham rather than the police to search out its owner, or it might now be in the hands of yet another corrupt official.

  Jess knew he couldn’t delay returning it to Addie. And selfishly, he couldn’t wait to see the smile it would bring. Of course, he wouldn’t have to wait long. After all, it was Friday. He had a date with a fiddler tonight.

  She should be here, not gallivanting around New York City. And yet he knew that without her music she couldn’t possibly be his Addie. It was a maddening paradox.

  Still, she had to eat, and so did he.

  Jess spun his chair around, grabbed his Stetson from the hook as he got to his feet, charged out the door and stomped into the shed that served as a stable. The least she could do was have an early dinner with him.

  “Thinks she has everything she needs there in that mixed up city, does she? Hold still, Dakota.” He grabbed the saddle blanket and threw it over the bewildered horse. “Just wait’ll she tries to fiddle. She’ll find out what’s missing. Hold on, horse, whoa now.”

  He continued to rant as he threw the saddle on and tightened the girth. He had Dakota so riled up that the moment he planted a foot in the stirrup, the horse took off for the road. The two thundered to the corner and hardly slowed down as they both leaned into the turn.

  Dakota saw the sun glinting off metal before Jess did and he shied, then reared. In his distracted frame of mind, Jess was unprepared, lost his grip, and found himself seated rudely in the dirt, suffocating in the exhaust of a sputtering vehicle that lurched to a stop in the middle of the road.

  “Ow-ooof...”

  Dakota pranced into the ditch, his eyeballs looming white in the shade of the trees.

  “...bloody hell?”

  “...dammit-ouch...”

  “Oh, my lord!”

  Jess squinted into the sun and hauled himself up out of the dust. He slapped at his legs with his Stetson and rubbed his tender behind.

  “Aren’t you supposed to honk or something? Madcap drivers...” His creative string of expletives died away as he began to hobble to the side of the road.

  “And aren’t you supposed to watch where you’re going?”

  Jess froze. His back still to the car, he found his tongue and spoke to the ditch. “Addie?”

  “Jess.”

  From her tone, she had obviously found his abrupt departure from the saddle humorous.

  “You want to kill me, I can think of a lot easier ways.” He planted his Stetson on his head, gathered the reins and swung up onto Dakota. The saddle hit him square in the new bruise, but he’d be damned if he’d wince.

  The young horse sprang out of the ditch and pranced begrudgingly toward the brass and leather Packard. It was a sturdy-looking vehicle, practical, unlike Jensen’s flashy little Runabout. Addie stood behind the steering wheel, a wide-brimmed, veiled driving hat and duster covering her from head to toe.

  “Why would I want to kill you,” she said in a tone that banished all annoyance and replaced it with sheer lust, “when tormenting you is so much...fun?”

  Jess eased Dakota forward until he sat eye to eye with Addie. “Fun, you say.”

  “Oh, most definitely.” She slipped her hat off and tossed it into the back of the automobile. “Almost as fun as...driving.” Her fingers began at the top buttons near her throat and one by one she slowly unbuttoned her coat.

  “Driving...as in this contraption? Or driving...as in driving a man crazy?” Jess spoke slowly, the rhythm of his words matching the slow movement of her finger
s from which he could not pull his eyes.

  “I suppose it depends upon the...situation.” She had worked her way halfway down the coat and shrugged it off her shoulders. The coat fell to the floor of the car as Jess brought his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. For once, Dakota seemed to understand his mission and stood perfectly still.

  Their lips brushed so slightly that it tantalized him in a way he’d not thought possible, and he lifted her onto his lap to deepen the kiss. Her arms came around his neck and her soft gloves sent maddening messages through his earlobes. With a small gasp, she pulled away from his demanding mouth.

  Her eyes danced, brown and brilliant, and penetrated his. She seemed to read with astounding accuracy the message his own eyes were screaming. Her answering smile nearly stopped his heart entirely.

  “What about my Packard?” She whispered it so quietly he didn’t register at first that she’d spoken.

  “Your Packard?” He nudged Dakota with his knees and let the reins dangle on the horse’s neck as the black’s sixth sense told him it was time to return to the stable. Jess stole another kiss before he asked, “That thing belongs to you?”

  “Mm-hmmm.” Her voice was dreamy now, her eyes dropping lazily to his mouth and up again.

  “Why...” he dipped for another kiss, “...do you need...” another kiss, “...a motor car?”

  Addie took a long, slow breath and expelled it on a sigh. Her fingers smoothed the hair at his temples as Dakota ambled up to the shed. “So I can drive...” she kissed his cheek, “...a man I know...” another kiss, “...crazy.”

  Then she kissed his chin.

  Her fingers opened the first button at his throat.

  “Or maybe,” she kissed each quivering tendon in his neck, “...to drive...” the cleft below his lip blazed hot and cold as her lips traveled higher, “...to a crazy man I...” she nipped his mouth, “...love.”

  Jess crushed her to him and swung his leg over the saddle and slid to the ground. Somehow without removing his lips from hers, he managed to latch the shed gate before he carried Addie across the threshold of the cottage.