by Mae Berry
“The woman, Miss Lawton, is a Pinkerton agent?” Mabel frowned.
“Was a Pinkerton agent.”
“Ah, I see. So you suspect that father is the same one?”
“Aye.”
“Is the woman, this Miss Lawton, helpin’ ya track him?”
“Tis the thing, ma, I thought she was. I found out she’s been keepin’ evidence from me.”
“On this case?”
“No, the old one.”
“The old case. Who did he murder?”
“His entire family— wife, son and daughter. In their beds as they lay sleeping.” Mabel covered her mouth and shuddered. Her life had been hard. Lugh Finnley had, at times, been a monster, especially when drunk; but she had never feared he’d murder them in their beds.
“I jist don’t see what to do, mum.”
“About…?”
“Sam, withholding the evidence.” Finn’s shoulders slumped as he placed his palms on the table.
“Bobby, lad, you understand this kind of case hits yer hard?” She laid her small hands on top of his. He looked at them. “On account of… Killian?” Finn closed his eyes and swallowed. “Any time you work on somethin’ involving children, Bobby, the guilt just gets ahold of ya. Guilt you shouldn’t be havin’.”
“Not havin’ this conversation with you, mum.” Finn’s chair screeched as he moved to stand. Mabel pressed his hands. He stayed in his seat, jaw clenched.
“Bobby…” her tone was coaxing, soft.
“It be me fault, mum.” Finn’s voice was hoarse. His mother reached over and stroked his curls.
“No, Bobby it’s not. It be Lugh’s. The man that should have cared for us. He’s the one that lost his temper. He’s the one that-.”
“No! No I should have been ‘ere. I was the one he was mad at, not Killian. It were my job to protect you, all of you.”
“Robert Thomas,” Finn’s head jerked. Mabel’s eyes flared. “By your logic if anyone is to blame it’s me. I’m the one that married him.” Her face softened as she stroked his hair again. “But I can’t find it in me heart to be sorry for that. If I hadn’t, I’d not have any of ya.”
Finn lowered his head and rested his check on the worn wood. He leaned in to his mother’s gentle caress. They would never agree. It was a discussion they’d had many times.
“Robert Thomas,” at the change in his mother’s tone Finn sat up, muscles tensed. Whatever she said next, it would make him squirm.
“Aye, mum?”
She smiled. “You, my dear son, are upset with Miss Lawton for reasons other than your poor dead brother.”
“Oh?” He watched her.
“My dear boy, this woman has captured your attention. I think it scares you. I think,” she raised a hand to stop his sputtering. “you care for her more than you want to admit.”
“Mum… she betrayed me.” Finn’s eyes grew wide.
“Nonsense, she made a mistake. Do you feel the evidence she has from an old case will truly help?”
“Until I examine it who knows what…” he crossed his arms and glowered. Mabel matched him stare for stare. Eventually, he rolled his shoulders. “Fine. No, it may help, but most likely not solve it. She’s told me things, but only if they come up.” He ran his hand through his hair. “No, she’s not keeping back vital information.” He grinned. “In fact, ma she’s smart. She puts things together faster and better than I ever could. And determined? A real hoyden.”
“Pretty?”
“Aye, very. She has these brown eyes that look right through me. She knows when I’m ‘bout to blarney her. And she takes none.” Finn chuckled, then his grin faded. “I wasn’t vera nice to her last we met.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Not nice at all.”
His mother patted his arm. “Good,” Mabel stood, “this’ll be practice for ya.” Finn frowned. “The man learning how to apologize early in a relationship is vera, vera good.” She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Now get along with you, and mind you, no pretty words. From the sounds of her anythin’ less than a sincere apology and she’ll remove your head and pitch it in a ditch.”
Chapter 21
A flash lit the stairway before a grumbling boom jangled the overhead chandeliers. Sam’s shoes squeaked on the marble steps as she rounded the third floor landing. She shifted the damp box to her other hip before making her way to the marshals office.
She paused before the door studying the handle. There was no way to determine what Finn, or rather Assistant Deputy Marshal Finnley, would do next. She could lose her license, her business, even her freedom if he kept to the letter of the law. It wasn’t as if she had maliciously committed a crime. She had only wanted justice. She reached for the handle but paused and clenched her fist. No. She had to be honest. She had done it for herself. She wanted, no needed, to prove herself. To silence the critics. Hattie. To pull back her shoulders, puff out her chest and say see, my instincts were good. I. Was. Right.
As she entered the office, the ripe smell of wet wool and sweat assaulted her nose. Finn stood with hands braced on his desk, his shirt sleeves rolled up revealing muscular forearms. His gaze was intent on scattered papers. As she started across the room, voices fell silent. Finn looked up and three pairs of eyes tracked her progress. One man moved toward her but stopped when Finn rounded his desk and waited with crossed arms. Another flash lit the room followed by a reverberating boom. Sam firmed her jaw and lengthened her stride. She plopped the box on the desk and took a step back.
Finn patted the lid. “Everything in here? Depositions? Notes?”
She hesitated a moment, her gaze on the box. “Every deposition, my notations, crime scene drawings; everything I wrote.”
Finn took a step. “Does that mean—”
“Well, well, well, the illustrious Miss Lawton I take it.” A man with slicked hair sauntered toward them. “We haven’t been introduced. Name’s Brownlee.” He removed a toothpick from one side of his mouth and grabbed her hand. His grasp was spongy and sticky, like yeast bread left to rise too long. She resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her skirt.
Finn sat on the edge of his desk stretching his legs between Brownlee and Sam. “Need something?” He eyed the man.
“Just thought I’d be hospitable. Introduce myself.” Brownlee pointed the toothpick at Finn. “Don’t forget your briefing, of course, if you want I can speak with the mayor—”
“Got it covered.” Finn stood facing Brownlee, Sam at his back. “If there is nothin’ else?” He narrowed his eyes.
Brownlee chuckled and peered around Finn. “Pleasure meeting you Miss Lawton. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again.” Sam nodded. Brownlee turned then snapped his fingers and faced Finn again. “Say Finnley, you familiar with the Climax Saloon? Pendergast’s place?”
Finn stiffened and nodded. “Waat about it?”
“I hear interesting things.” Brownlee jabbed the toothpick at Finn. Another rumble of thunder sounded.
“Oh?” Finn cleared his throat. “What?”
“Just… things. Thought you should know.” Brownlee put the toothpick in his mouth. “Interesting things.”
Finn clenched his fists as he watched the man walk away.
“Trouble?” asked Sam.
Finn shook himself and turned toward her. “It’s his specialty.”
She tilted her head to the side.
Finn sighed. “Sam, I owe you an apology. Again.” His eyes sparked.
“Oh?”
“I didn’t mean what I said. In Kearney.”
“Oh?” Sam looked across the room and swallowed.
“Well, you should have told me about your files,” he smiled, “but I know you wouldn’t keep back something important.” Sam dropped her gaze to the floor as he continued. “I was angry. Cases like this… they bother me.” Sam gave him a curious look. “Forgive me?” His eyes pleaded.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I…” She hesitated, “partnering with others is difficult. Trust is… di
fficult. I have to watch out for myself. There are many who’d like to see me fail and are willing to help it happen. Understand?” She looked up her eyes searching his.
Finn slowly nodded. His gaze intent. The tension around his desk crackled more than the storm. His hand moved across the desktop toward hers. Just a gentle brush across the back. She shivered. Another booming crack and they jumped apart. Finn pointed his chin at the edge of his desk as he sat in his chair. “Have a seat.”
“What next marshal?” She tilted her head and looked over her shoulder.
“Back to marshal now ‘re we?”
Sam smiled, “Finn, then.”
He leaned his chair back on two legs. “What do you think?”
Sam blinked a few times and drew in a breath. What did she think? “Well, we don’t have a good location for his mother and sister.”
“True, I sent a telegram off to state records, but it will take time.”
“We don’t have a choice. We need to go to Stanley.” She swallowed. The return to the scene of her most horrific nightmares was something she would rather avoid. “Gittin lived there for a time. Maybe someone will remember something. A place or a friend. Even a distant relative might help.”
Finn nodded as he studied her. “You did good work out there. Back in Kearney.” His eyes swept her face, his smile warm. He was distracting her.
She let out a slow breath. “Thank you.” She brushed at the rain spots on her skirt, “You were very productive as well.”
✽✽✽
Finn burst into a laugh then sat up placing his elbows on his desk. He eyed her. She had a faint quirk on her lips. Was she teasing him? Good. Better than worrying about going to Stanley. She was so tiny that sitting on his desk their eyes were level. Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips and Finn shot his eyes to hers only to find her looking off in the distance. She didn’t have a clue the effect she had on him. He lowered his arms, his forearm “accidentally” brushing her skirt clad leg. She jumped, her lower lip quivering as she gazed at her lap. Good. She wasn’t immune. Nothing she’d admit to but still. Finn rolled his chair closer. He lowered his voice, causing her to lean in to hear him.
“Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner tonight? Celebrate the progress we’ve made on the case?”
Her face paled. “Are you sure that’s proper?”
He laughed again. “O course, lassie, what be more proper than two colleagues chattin’ o’r a steak? We’ve ‘ad many a lunch together.” Sam narrowed her eyes. He cleared his throat. “Besides, we need ta discuss our plan of action fer Stanley.” She sighed and moved to jump off the desk but Finn quickly moved to put his hands on her waist and lowered her to the ground. She was the size of a twig and weighed almost the same.
“Thank you,” Sam whispered and flushed a delightful shade. “I can accompany you tonight, but I will need at least a day before we go to Stanley.”
“Oh? You have a case?”
“Not exactly, Mr. Spotwood and I are working on an investigation and I need to catch up with him.”
“Spotwood?” Finn didn’t care for the sound of that.
“Yes, Ernest Spotwood. He works at the precinct.”
“I don’t remember an officer by the name.”
“Oh, no. He’s a clerk. We’re investigating discrepancies.”
“Discrepancies?” He cocked his eyebrow.
“Yes… well… more concerns about corruption.”
“What?” Finn straightened. She had his full attention now.
“Yes, well we’re looking into Mr. Pendergast’s alleged questionable activities. The men involved—”
“Pendergast?” Finn’s eyes widened. No, no, no. Not good.
“Yes. I know you have ties-.”
“Why ye two? It could be dangerous!”
“Mr. Spotwood feels it will help with a promotion. Mostly, we go over reports, tabulate the information and cross check for suspects.”
“Why ‘re ye involved?” Sam shrugged. His tone drew the other marshals’ interest and Finn lowered his voice. “Ye ‘ave no business doin’ this. Takin’ on Jimmy Pendergast.”
“I recognize Mr. Pendergast is a part of the Irish community. I realize he helped you but several of his enterprises are suspect. The police know this. They’re trying to catch his more nefarious endeavors but he—”
“What ‘re ye thinkin’? Ye’ll get hurt! I… I forbid it!”
Sam’s mouth dropped open and her body stilled. Her eyes flared, but Finn was past noticing or caring. “You what?” she hissed.
“You. Will. Not. DO THIS!” Finn’s fists clenched at his side. He looked ready to take a swing.
Sam eyed him deliberately from his shoes to his mussed hair. She drew in a deep breath then spoke with a quiet calm. “Congratulations, you managed that tirade without slipping into your brogue. However, you have nothing further to say I wish to listen to. So, unless you conclude you can dispense with my assistance; I will meet you at the station on Tuesday. Good day.” She turned and marched for the door leaving a sputtering Finn in her wake.
Finn turned and slammed his palms on his desk. Now what?
✽✽✽
Finn spat a stream of blood into the sawdust. Wait, was that a tooth? He wavered forward and squinted. Didn’t matter. He grinned at his opponent. Lucky for him Big Stan was drunk, drunker than he was and that was all that mattered. He peered at the man from his one good eye. Not fair. There were three Big Stans in front of him, which one was he supposed to hit? Finn raised his fists then staggered back as Stan took a swing.
A piercing whistle froze every sound. Finn flinched and shut his eyes. It only made the room spin faster.
“Coppers! Coppers comin’, lads! A raid! Make fer it!” In the next room glasses crashed, tables toppled and chairs splintered as men pushed and shoved toward the back and side exits of the bar. Finn was tossed around like a loose barge during a flood. He wasn’t exactly sure where the exits were. He wasn’t exactly sure where up was.
“Got ye now Finn me boy.” He gasped as someone drew his arm over a shoulder. Had he taken a hit to the ribs? “Hurry, lad, don’t want the coppers catchin’ ye here.”
“Danny boy?” Finn squinted at his friend. It was Daniel’s voice but everything was moving too fast to focus.
“Aye, lad.” Daniel chuckled and maneuvered Finn through the door into the kitchen. “Jist keep walkin’ lad. Ah, Finn-O, ye foozler. Ye aren’t a lightweight ye know.”
Finn wanted to help out, truly he did but his legs were not cooperating. They wobbled like a new colt. A colt running across a field of fresh-mowed hay, heading toward a bonny lass with a heart-shaped face, standing with sun glinting off her chestnut hair and her eyes, auch her eyes… burning a hole through his gut.
“Finn lad, a li’l help here?” Daniel sagged as Finn’s legs lost the battle and collapsed. Daniel propped him up and yanked on a latch beside a large cabinet. With a pop, the cabinet sprang from the wall and a dark opening appeared. “Quick now. Into McMurphy’s. That’s right. We’ll wait a bit then go out his door on the other side soon as things ‘re clear. Then we need to get ye somewhere safe. Sure as I’m standin’ here that meater Brownlee, already checked your flat. He’s been sniffin’ around. I had one of the wee lads keepin’ an eye out. What ye do to that ratbag that has him out for ye?”
“She hates me ye know.” Finn’s words slurred together.
“What? Brownlee? That’s bloody obvious.”
“No, not him. Well, aye, him too. I mean Mantha. She hates me.”
“Mantha?” Finn swayed and Daniel grunted.
“Ssssam.”
“Sam? Samantha Lawton?” Daniel pulled Finn’s arm tighter around his shoulders. “Why ye be sayin’ that?”
“She knows, Danny,” Finn hiccuped, “about Jimmy.”
“Jimmy? Waat do ye mean about Jimmy?” Daniel stopped and propped Finn against a wall in McMurphy’s back room. “His… night time activities?”
&nb
sp; Finn’s head nodded, and the movement caused him to lose his footing again. “She knows someone bin ‘elpin’ him.”
“Huh, Finn-O, what does she know fer sure?” Daniel rubbed his hand over his chin.
“She’ll never wanna see me again.”
“Nonsense boy-o, what ‘re you on about?” Daniel shook his head. “I never saw a lass so taken.” Daniel adjusted Finn’s arm again and staggered toward the exit. “As a matter of fact, Finn me boy, that is an excellent suggestion.”
✽✽✽
Sam’s braid bounced as she scurried down the staircase re-tying her wrapper. She said a quick prayer of thanksgiving that Hattie was a sound sleeper. The rapid knocking turned into pounding and at this hour of the night, early morning actually, it risked waking the whole block. She tightened her grip on her pistol as she reached the bottom of the stairs and strode to the entry. She opened the door pistol pointed out the crack, weight behind the door.
“Please stop banging on my…” Her eyes widened. On her front steps Daniel stooped under the weight of an unconscious Finn. A Finn with blood on his shirt and bruising on his face. She threw open the door. “Oh, my lands! What happened to him? Where is he hurt?” She dropped her gun into her robe pocket. Her fingers flew over Finn’s face and arms as she searched for the source of the blood. She tried to pull up his shirt. So much red, he had to have wounds somewhere.
“Lassie, please let us in,” groaned Daniel as he sank further under Finn’s weight.
Sam scanned the dark street. “Bring him in Daniel. I’ll send for a doctor.” She motioned them into the parlor and toward the sofa. Daniel dropped Finn with a muffled grunt. She fell to her knees beside him and renewed her frantic examination.
“Finn, Finn? Can you hear me?”
“Nay lassie, no doctor. He be tough.” Daniel plopped into a nearby chair and scrubbed at his face.
“What happened?” She prodded Finn’s sides, and he groaned. She turned to Daniel. He hunched lower in his seat, eyes fixed on the ground. Sam stared at him until Finn let out another small groan. She returned her attention to his battered face and huffed. “At least make yourself useful. The kitchen is through there. Get water and the towels are under the dry sink.” She continued running her fingers over Finn’s face, stroking the hair off his forehead. He belched and a fumed breath hit her nose. Sam stilled then turned her head and coughed. She sat back on her heels as Daniel returned with a bowl of water and several towels.