He looked around, and added, "Your new surgery is really coming along nicely. So, when do you expect to move in?"
"Oh," Neil answered, "it will still be a while yet. We're still waiting for a number of things: the iceboxes and cook stoves—for both the residence and surgery kitchens; and several small stoves for some of the rooms. Speaking of waiting for deliveries," Neil began, in a sarcastic voice Victoria had never heard before, "what about your equipment? Any news about your deliveries—yet?"
"Alas, no. In fact, my attorney is contacting the manufacturing company about either delivering my goods or returning my monies. I'm afraid if they aren't able to provide my equipment, I'm just going to move on. Perhaps, try something else."
"Really?" Neil asked. "After you've cooled your heels here for the better part of a year? I mean, you've procured your building and established yourself in our community."
"Yes," Harding answered with a sigh. "I suppose, after all this time, no one is much interested in my newspaper. Maybe I'll go back to Chicago and try my hand at opening a hotel or restaurant. Or, even one of those new emporiums. What do they call them...ah...department stores."
"But," Dr. Thorne said, incredulously, "I thought being one of the new breed of journalists was your dream?"
"It was—a year and a half ago," he answered, with a yawn. "But all these delays have caused me to lose my initial fire."
"May I ask," Victoria began, "Mr. Harding, if you lease or own your building?"
"I lease it. Why?"
"Because, after our recent health crisis, I've been thinking that maybe Manchester does have a need for a hospital—of sorts. Nothing grand, or elaborate," she responded. "But, perhaps, if you truly do choose to leave and vacate your building, it could be used as a hospital.
"I mean it is very conveniently located right next door to the surgery."
"Yes, I suppose it is. But, as I said, I lease it, so I really couldn't say."
After Harding and his brute of a dog wandered home, Victoria stepped close to Neil and asked, "Well, what do you make of that? To just walk away after all this time?"
"I hope he goes!" Neil said. "And good riddance to him!"
Jake's glance went from one to the other, and then, looking a bit uncomfortable, snatched up another sandwich and retreated back upstairs.
"I thought you liked him?" Victoria asked.
"He was all right. But, I never really thought he was particularly interesting. Besides, I always had the feeling he was evaluating me, for some reason."
"Yes, he did seem a bit dense—always asking me the same questions about that first dead girl. How many times can I tell him we didn't know any more about her than everyone else did?"
"Yes, he repeatedly asked me about her, as well. Although, I've told you all along, it was you he kept dropping by to talk to."
"Well," the doctor answered softly, "I'm afraid my interests lie elsewhere." Then she swiftly gathered up the remains of their lunch, and, smiling sweetly, left—with Neil watching her, open-mouthed.
*****
Gus went to the back of the workshop and knocked on the door. "Meg! Eva! Can I come in?"
Through the window, he saw Eva scurrying from the door which connected the workroom to the residence, as she called, "Come in, Mr. Gus. Come right in. It's not locked."
"Eva, I've asked you all to keep this back door locked, especially if no one is back here in the residence. It's one thing if you're expecting someone, or are going back and forth from the workroom. But, it's not safe for you all."
"Yes, sir."
"Please, I don't want anything to happen to any of you. Haven't we had enough dead young women in town?"
"Oh, nothing would happen to us, Mr. Gus," Eva insisted. "I mean those other girls were...well...they weren't...ah...good girls."
"Eva, these young girls didn't decide to become prostitutes. They believed they were coming here to work—in legitimate jobs. Only once they got here, they were taken somewhere, isolated, and probably forced to use 'Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup'—so they were easy to control."
"Neither your mother nor Brian would ever forgive Miss Meg or me if anything happened to you. And, in truth, I don't believe either of us would be able to ever forgive ourselves."
"Yes, sir. I promise to keep the doors locked."
"Thank you. Now, is Margaret around?"
"She's out front, working with a lady. But, they should be just about finished. What if I put on a pot of coffee, and then go check about how long she thinks it will be?"
"Fine. And, while you're doing that, I'm going to run across the street and see how Neil and Jake are doing. If Meg's free, just holler for me."
"All right, Mr. Gus."
"Neil," Gus called out. "Are you just about done for the day?"
There were footsteps from the upper floor, and Neil appeared, "Yep! I was just gathering up a few tools I'd left upstairs. Then I'm going to go to the surgery to clean up. Then I guess Dr. Thorne and I will go to the restaurant for dinner. Why? Do you need me to help you with something?"
"No, not like you mean. But, I received a letter from the judge today, and I'd like to talk about it with you and the doctor, and Meg, of course. I asked Eva to put on some fresh coffee. Why don't you go get the doctor and come back? I don't want to discuss the contents of his letter in the restaurant, but perhaps we'll join you after."
"All right. I'm sure we won't be long."
Within fifteen minutes, the four were gathered around the table in the residence behind the workshop. And for the first time, Gus asked Eva and Kit to go have some tea at the surgery, so the four could talk in private.
"I got a letter from Judge Preston," Gus began. "Both Raveneau and Gillis have left Manchester, without discovering anything. That leaves Will and Jake still in place, but they haven't found out anything either."
"So, are we giving up?" Meg asked. "Is that what the judge is saying?"
"No. He's actually gone and met with the manager of the Pinkerton office in Chicago. A man named Charles Brown. Although not many people are aware of it, the agency has a few women agents. And Mr. Brown has suggested that he send one of them to us."
"But why?" Meg asked.
"I see why," Victoria said, in a low voice. "But I don't think we should do it. It's too dangerous."
Meg just looked around the table, clearly distressed. Neil nodded his head, in apparent agreement with the doctor.
Gus covered Meg's hand with his, and explained, "The idea is the woman arrives in town appearing a bit down on her luck, presents herself at the saloon, perhaps even approaches Brumbell for a job. Even if he merely hires her to work in the bar, she might discover something. But, hopefully, he'll be interested in hiring her for other work."
"No, Gus. We can't put someone in that position," Meg protested.
Victoria took a number of deep breaths and then said, "I understand how you feel Meg. I truly do. And I don't like the idea of putting some woman in danger, either. But..."
"You can't possibly approve of this, Victoria?" Meg argued.
"Margaret, I find myself in an extremely awkward position. I've fought my entire life to be allowed to become a doctor. I've struggled to be able to do something any man could do without any worry—without thinking about it twice. If this woman has chosen to do this investigating, how can I argue she shouldn't be allowed because it’s dangerous and she's a mere woman?"
Meg looked into her friend's eyes, and murmured, "Yes, I see that. If we want to be treated as people and not property, we have to be willing to do 'unwomanly things.'"
"Exactly. And we have absolutely no right to decide what is too hard, unpleasant, or unseemly for someone else to do—whether man or woman. That is something only the person, themselves, has a right to decide."
Neil looked from Meg to the doctor, and then to Gus in silence. Finally, he asked, "And, is this what the judge is suggesting?"
"Yes. He has voiced the opinion that since none of the male operatives
have been successful, this is our last option. And...if this fails, he's very much afraid we will be forced to make everything known to the public."
"I see."
"Well, if that's decided," Neil suggested, "why don't we go get dinner?"
"You three go on," Victoria said. "I'm not hungry."
"You men go," Meg added. "I don't want to eat anything. I think I'll just go to bed."
"Margaret, come and at least have something—soup, or something," Gus insisted.
"Yes," Neil echoed, "you both need to eat something."
"We might as well go with them, Meg. Or, they'll just keep nagging us."
*****
"There's a rumor going around, you're planning leaving town. You weren't planning on just abandoning me, were you?"
"No. Although, I have been giving your idea some thought. And, I'm beginning to think that you might be right. Perhaps, it is time for us to move on. Business has been dwindling ever since we lost Jeannine."
"We didn't lose Jeannine. You killed her. I still can't believe they never realized they had an extra corpse."
"I don't wish to argue semantics with you. The reality is we are down to only two girls. And Belle is very unhappy about the current situation. The men prefer Kathy, and Belle knows it."
"Well, of course the men prefer Kathy—she's barely seventeen. Belle is still an attractive woman, but she must be forty. I've often considered advising her to use less powder and rouge."
"And, what's preventing you?"
"A number of things, not the least of which is that she stabbed her last pimp to death."
"True. Belle can be extremely temperamental."
"Actually, I might have a solution to your...ah...staff shortage. A young woman's arrived in town. She's staying at the hotel, but...I don't know. There's something about her. Her clothes are just a bit...you know. She spends a lot of time in the saloon. And, she already has the habit. I've seen her sipping on a bottle of 'Mrs. Winslow's'— almost continually. She might be just the thing we need. Even if it's just to end our time here on a high note. News there's a new girl will certainly be a boost to dwindling business."
"A young woman, you say? How young?"
"I'd guess mid-twenties. And she's very pretty—alabaster skin and russet hair. Yes, extremely pretty."
"You say you've seen her partaking?"
"Yes. She plays poker and takes nips. It doesn't seem to matter whether she's losing or not."
"And does this woman have a name?"
"I wouldn't swear to it. I mean we've never been formally introduced. But, I believe it's Colleen."
"So, you think we could recruit her?"
"Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration. I suggest we just switch her bottle for one of ours. Then after a day or two of her sipping our special blend, she'll be putty in our hands."
"All right. I'll see that you get several bottles. After all, we wouldn't want her to run out, now would we? Once you do that, I'll see that she only has access to our bottles."
"Excellent."
"And, when we do finally leave Manchester...we can dispose of her, just as we will with the rest."
"Ah...well...actually, I've decided to keep my little Lynn—as my personal pet."
"Do you think that's wise? Traveling with such a young girl might draw attention."
"I considered keeping Belle around, to act as my wife...but when I thought more carefully, I decided it would be much safer for her to suffer the same accident as Kathy, and now, Colleen, will."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. I told you, I'm not worried. I'll be just a widower, traveling with my daughter. Now, go back to where you belong, because it's you who might draw attention to us."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
"Excuse me, my dear," Mr. Brumbell began, as he slipped into the chair beside the lovely young woman playing poker. "I've noticed you here the last several nights. And, you seem to be on a losing streak."
"I've paid what I owed," she protested.
"Yes, of course you have. I'm not implying otherwise." He leaned closer and said in a low voice, "However, I have a suggestion that will benefit both of us."
She looked away from her cards, and into his round, jowly face, and asked, "Really. What?"
"A month or so ago, one of my dealers left. And, you seem to know your way around a poker table. I'm offering to hire you as a dealer. Then, you have a job, and I have a new employee."
"A job..." she repeated. She looked around and said, "As a dealer? Just a dealer?"
"Of course," Brumbell insisted. "I run a respectable place. You don't see any fancy women in here, do you?"
"Well, no..." the young woman admitted. "And, the hotel is getting expensive. Any chance that this job offer could include a salary and a room? It doesn't need it to be anything grand. Just a small room, where I can sleep in privacy and safety." Then she gave him a sweet, guileless smile.
"Ah..." Brumbell hemmed and hawed, "I don't know...I'm not...wait! There is a small room upstairs. It's nothing fancy, but there's a bed and dresser...I think there's even a writing desk. So, you can write your family and tell them where you are and about your new job."
"Oh, I don't have any family," the girl answered. She thrust her hand out and said, "Perhaps I should introduce myself. I'm Colleen Murphy."
"I'm delighted to meet you, my dear. I'm Wilfred Brumbell, the owner and manager of this fine establishment." He shook her hand, forgetting to release it as soon as he should have. "Now, why don't you go check out of the hotel? And, meanwhile, I'll have that room made ready for you."
"I'll do that, Mr. Brumbell. And, thank you."
*****
Victoria rushed into the hotel restaurant and over to the table she shared with Neil twice a day. Plopping down in the chair he'd held out for her, after jumping up from his own, she let out a long sigh, held out a folded paper, and said, "I found this had been slipped under my door."
Before he could read it, the doctor said, "I don't know when this was left. It's probably been then for hours. She's almost certainly already moved to the saloon. What are we going to do?"
"Just let me finish the note, please."
Doctor,
I've been approached by Mr. Brumbell. He's hired me to deal poker in the saloon. And he's promised to provide me with a room. So, I've left the hotel.
Colleen Murphy
Neil refolded the note and said, "I think I need to pass this to Jake. Order me the chicken fried steak, please. I'll be right back."
*****
"I'll tell Will when I go to check on my horse. He's gone into the saloon several times. So, no one will think anything of him showing up there again. He'll pass on any messages you want to send."
"Thanks," Neil said. "I think the only thing we need for her to know is about the 'Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup.' We're sure they tamper with their bottles—make them stronger. We believe that's how they manage to control the girls so easily. And keep them so sequestered. So, above all else, she must not even sip on any of the syrup. Even the bottles she brought with her. Tell her to pretend to use it. To act pliable, but never actually swallow any."
"Yes, all right," Jake said. "I understand. I'll pass this on immediately."
*****
Brumbell approached Will wearing a scowl. "I told you before, not to come in here unless you have money to spend."
"But I do," Will protested, as he held up a handful of bills. "I did some cleanup work for that fellow working on that big building at the far end of the street. He paid me a good wage. So, I thought I'd come in for a beer and to try my luck with the cards." He looked around, and then asked, "Who's the woman? She's a looker, isn't she? I think I'll play at her table."
"You can be in here as long as you have money and are spending it," Brumbell growled. "Once you're broke, you need to go. Understand?"
"I understand," Will grumbled. "I understand."
Will waited until a chair beside the new woman dealer opened, t
hen he swiftly took it, beating out several other younger, more attractive men. He bought his chips, and then went silent—appearing to concentrate on the game.
After playing an hour or so, and losing all of his chips, he groaned, shoved himself back from the table, and swearing softly under his breath, he left the card table.
But, he'd dropped a note into the dealer's lap as he did so.
He left, wishing he'd been able to do more. Now, the lovely young woman was on her own.
*****
Eventually, the patrons at the bar dwindled down. Colleen was exhausted. Her presence in the saloon had caused quite a stir. She'd dealt cards for hours without so much as time to use the necessary.
She knew it was dangerous to allow herself to become so exhausted. But, what was done, was done. She'd just blockade her door and hope for the best for one night.
Once she'd used the convenience out back and acquired a pitcher of hot water, she climbed up the stairs and to the room she only had a cursory look at when she'd dropped her cases off earlier.
After she'd secured the door, by slowly and as quietly as she could manage, moving the dresser in front of it, she slipped out of her shoes, and sat on the bed, to read her note.
Under NO circumstances are you to actual swallow any 'Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup.' They will swap out the bottles you have for theirs. Their 'Soothing Syrup' has been doctored—and is much stronger. Sometimes fatally stronger!
Terrific!
They'd probably already gone through her luggage and switched their bottles for hers. Hopefully, they hadn't discovered the false bottom to the suitcase, where she had hidden her pair of derringers and the ammunition for them.
She quickly unpacked her cases and was relieved to find the guns still there. She loaded them both. Of course, they only gave her two shots a piece, but at least it was some protection.
She placed one little gun in the pocket of her petticoat and the other under her pillow. Then she washed, slipped into her nightgown, and crawled into bed.
She needed to get as much rest tonight as she was able, because she couldn't even imagine what tomorrow would bring.
Miss Thorne Blossoms Page 17