by Nerys Leigh
“We’re here on official Pinkerton business. We’re looking for a woman who may have stayed here last year.”
At the revelation that they weren’t there for a room, Mrs. Garvey’s attitude became somewhat less welcoming. “Can’t help you.”
“We’ll pay you for your time, of course,” he said quickly, as she took hold of the door. It wouldn’t have been the first time they’d had a door slammed in their faces.
Her hand lowered. “How much?”
Now this was the tricky part, Clara had learned. Everyone in New York seemed to feel honor-bound to haggle. Start too high, and you were likely to pay over the odds, and with all the boarding houses on their list, they couldn’t afford to do that. But start too low, and they would think you weren’t worth the time it would take to get the amount up to an acceptable level.
“Twenty cents for just a few minutes, the time it would take you to check your records,” Toby said.
Mrs. Garvey narrowed her eyes. “Thirty.”
“Twenty-five.”
New Yorkers also seemed to respect you more if you haggled back.
She gave a nod and stepped to the side. “Come on in.”
They followed her into a parlor which, despite the pervading smell which was now so bad Clara had to fight to keep from coughing, seemed clean enough.
Mrs. Garvey took a ledger from a bookcase, placed it onto a table by the window, and held her hand out to Toby. When he’d handed over the quarter, she donned a pair of spectacles from her pocket and opened the ledger.
“What’s the name and when would she have stayed here?”
“Miss Josephine Chamberlain,” Clara said. “She’d have been here for at least a couple of months, maybe more, between January and May of last year.”
The first few times they’d done this, she’d been excited at the imminent prospect of finding a clue as to Miss Chamberlain’s whereabouts. After thirteen boarding houses, Clara knew that all she likely had to look forward to was crossing another place off their list and a disconsolate cab ride to the next one.
“No Josephine Chamberlain,” Mrs. Garvey said, after turning a few pages. “I didn’t think I recognized the name.”
Clara glanced at Toby and he shrugged. He’d warned her that being a detective often involved ruling out what hadn’t happened, rather than discovering what had. Although he hadn’t warned her how tiring that would be.
Mrs. Garvey tapped a finger on the page. “Had a Josephine Carter round about that time though.”
Clara’s stomach jolted. It couldn’t be, could it?
Toby dug the portrait of Miss Chamberlain from his pocket. “Is this her?”
Mrs. Garvey glanced that the picture and nodded. “That’s her. Pretty girl. Friendly.”
They’d found it. Clara couldn’t quite believe they’d actually found it.
“What dates was she here?” Toby said, replacing the portrait in his pocket and taking out his paper and pencil.
Mrs. Garvey ran her finger down the page. “Arrived on February third, left May twelfth.”
Clara grinned at him and one corner of his mouth turned up in a rare smile of his own. They had a clue. Granted, they still didn’t know where Miss Chamberlain/Carter was, but they were a step closer to finding out.
“Her gentleman friend left the month before though,” Mrs. Garvey added.
Clara gasped in a breath. That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. “Gentleman friend?”
The other woman looked awkward. “I’m not saying this isn’t a respectable place. When they first arrived, I thought they were married. And I can’t afford to turn away paying customers.”
“What was his name?” Toby said, writing.
“Loo… something.” She checked the ledger again. “Loomis. Clive Loomis.”
“And he arrived with Josephine Carter?”
“Yes. And they were real cozy. As I said, I figured they were married, at first.”
“But he left a month before she did?”
“About that. She didn’t seem too pleased about it either. Seemed to me she wasn’t so happy after that. I asked her once if she was all right, but she said she was.”
“Did she say where she was going when she left?” Clara asked. “Do you have a forwarding address?”
“People who stay here don’t tend to leave forwarding addresses.”
Her heart sank. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
Mrs. Garvey’s gaze became unfocused, moving to the side. “I remember she did mention something about having to get to the station in time, the day she left. Figure that meant she was going by train, wherever it was.”
“And what time of day was that?” Tobias asked.
“It was just after breakfast, so somewhere around eight.”
He finished writing and pushed the piece of paper back into his pocket, exchanging it for a blank sheet. “Would you mind describing Mr. Loomis, so I can make a sketch of him?”
Mrs. Garvey eyed the paper. “How long’s that going to take?”
~ ~ ~
Twenty minutes and an extra fifty cents later, they left Mrs. Smith’s Respectable Boarding House.
Clara held the picture of Clive Loomis that Tobias had sketched from Mrs. Garvey’s description. “This is very good. You could be an artist.”
He had the strangest urge to laugh at that, the idea of him as an artist being so ludicrous. “My teacher at school said I didn’t have enough imagination to be a proper artist. All I can do is draw what I see.”
When he’d told his parents what Master Jones said, they’d been happy about it. Being twelve and still wanting to please them, so had he. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“Isn’t that what artists do?” Clara said. “Copy what they see?”
“I’m not sure they’re supposed to copy exactly what they see. He said I used too much realism and not enough flair.”
She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, just like she always did. “Well I think you’re very talented and he didn’t know what he was talking about.”
He’d never been of the opinion that constant praise was good for anyone, but he was beginning to suspect that was his parents’ influence. Whenever Clara said something good about him, it made him want to strive for more, just to make her proud of him. That couldn’t be a bad thing.
“What are we going to do now?” she said. “We know Josephine Chamberlain is really Josephine Carter, and we also know she wasn’t alone, for the time she was keeping company with Aaron, at least. How do we find her?”
He’d been considering that. “Right now, I think finding Clive Loomis might be our best course of action. If Miss Carter did leave by train, there’s a probability she’s no longer in New York. But he could be here still.”
“And how are we going to find him?”
They did something he was hoping to avoid. “We go to the police.”
~ ~ ~
Clara had mixed feelings about police stations. On the one hand, they were interesting places filled with men who fought criminals, just like she wanted to. On the other, her own experience of them had rarely been good.
In her drive to become a detective and solve crimes, she’d frequently gone to her local police station when she discovered evidence of wrongdoing. She’d been laughed at more than once, and even though she invariably turned out to be right, they were never grateful.
But as a Pinkerton agent, they’d surely have to be more respectful of her ideas, wouldn’t they? It was one of the reasons she’d applied to the agency when she found out they were hiring women.
“Does Sergeant Laurence Perkins still work here?” Toby asked the young man at the reception desk.
“He does, although he’s Captain Perkins now.” He had a thick handlebar mustache that he fidgeted with as he spoke.
“We’d like to see him, please.”
The man eyed him suspiciously. “Captain Perkins is very busy. What’s it about?”
“Could you just tell him
Tobias Campbell is here? He’ll want to see me.”
He gave the mustache a final tug. “Wait here.”
“Have you been here before?” Clara said, surprised. She hadn’t known he’d even previously been to New York. Not that she knew a huge amount about his past, despite many attempts to draw him out on the subject.
He glanced around the busy room filled with men in dark blue uniforms. “I used to work here.”
She blinked at him. “You what?”
Mustache man returned at that moment. “Captain Perkins will see you now.”
“What do you mean, you used to work here?” she hissed as she and Toby followed him across the room to a door in the back wall.
The door flung open and a man strode out, his face stretched into a grin. “As I live and breathe, Tobias Campbell!”
He grasped Toby’s hand in a vigorous shake, slapping him on the back at the same time. To Clara’s amazement, Toby returned his greeting with a smile bigger than any she’d yet seen. The transformation was astonishing, and for a few moments all she could do was stare.
“And this is Mrs. Clara Campbell.”
The sound of her name nudged her from the trance she appeared to have fallen into while gazing at Toby’s smiling face. What had she missed?
“Mrs. Campbell?” Captain Perkins’ bushy eyebrows rose.
“My wife,” Toby confirmed.
It was the first time he’d introduced her to anyone as his wife, and it sent a shiver through her chest. With both that and the smile, she suspected she’d need to sit down soon.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Perkins,” she said.
“The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Campbell. Come on in.”
He directed them into his office and closed the door. “I don’t know if he’s told you, but I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for your husband.”
Now this she wanted to hear. “You wouldn’t?”
He waved her into a chair in front of his desk and Toby took a seat beside her.
“The draft riots, back in ’63,” he said, lowering into the chair behind his desk.
Clara had read about the New York draft riots. Four days of terror and bloodshed. More than a hundred people died. The thought that Toby had been one of the outnumbered, beleaguered police back then sent a stab of fear through her stomach.
“What happened?”
Captain Perkins’ smile had disappeared. “It was the first day. We had no idea what was coming. There were fewer than two thousand of us, but tens of thousands of them. Somehow, during a battle, I got separated from the rest of my men. I thought I was done for. I’d never seen the kind of rage on a man’s face that I saw around me that day. I’m not ashamed to say, I was terrified. And then Tobias appeared, fighting his way towards me through this angry mob like an angel sent from God, all by himself. I have to be honest, I didn’t think he had it in him. He’d only been on the force a month. He was young and green and had all these strange ideas about fighting crime. I never said it, but I thought he wouldn’t last a week.”
He smiled and Toby dipped his head, the corners of his eyes creasing.
“But the bravery and strength he showed that day, and the following days and nights, convinced me he had what it took. You know he was there when they attacked the Colored Orphan Asylum? If it wasn’t for your husband and the men who defended it long enough for those children to escape, I don’t like to think what would have happened. He’s a real hero. You should be proud of him.”
It felt as if her heart had expanded to fill her entire chest. “I am,” she said, smiling at Toby. “Very, very proud.”
He met her gaze and she hoped he saw in her eyes the truth of her words. He had hidden depths that she hadn’t imagined when she’d first met him, maggots and all. She found herself wanting to discover it all, every part of the life he hadn’t told her about.
“Anyway, what can I do for the two of you?” Captain Perkins asked.
Toby held her gaze for a moment longer before turning his attention to his former sergeant. “I’m a Pinkerton agent now, based in Denver, and we’re working on a case. Clara is training to become one of the new lady agents.”
“I heard about that. Excellent idea. One day we’ll have women in the police force, and it’ll be a good thing when it happens. So how can I help?”
She was liking Captain Perkins more and more. “We’ve been hired to find a woman named Josephine Chamberlain, or Carter, and we’ve just discovered that she was keeping company with a man called Clive Loomis. It’s possible that one or both of them could have been on the wrong side of the law.”
“I was hoping you’d be able to tell us if either of them has an arrest record,” Toby added. “And if so, the most recent address you have for them.”
Captain Perkins nodded, rising from his chair. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were from New York?” Clara said as soon as he’d left the room.
Toby shrugged. “It never came up. And I’m not from New York, I’m from Boston. I just went to college here and then worked here for two years.”
“You didn’t tell me that either.” She prodded his shoulder with her finger. “We are going to have a very long conversation very soon.”
“I seem to recall we already discussed this. Your training and this case is more important than knowing every detail about each other’s lives.”
“And I seem to recall that I didn’t at all agree with you.” She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
Feeling the need to walk off her frustration, she stood and went to study a collection of photographs on the wall behind Captain Perkins’ desk. Her attention was drawn to one of a group of around fifty men, posing for a portrait in front of the building she was in now. It was labeled 1864.
“Are you in this?” she said, searching the tiny faces.
She heard him walk up behind her and, after a few seconds, he pointed to a figure three men in on the far right of the back row.
Now she knew, she could see it was him. Other than his shoulders having filled out since the photograph was taken, he looked more or less the same.
“I think I prefer you without a beard,” she said.
“It made my face too hot.”
She smiled as she remembered waking up next to his warm body that morning. “I imagine it would.”
She turned to find him standing behind her, so close she could have pushed up onto her toes and kissed him right then and there, if she had a mind to.
Kiss him? Where had that thought come from?
His lips parted slightly. It may have been her imagination, but she could have sworn his eyes darted to her mouth for just a split second.
Then the door opened.
Toby leapt back from her as if she’d sprouted thorns.
“I couldn’t find any record for either of them here,” Captain Perkins said as he walked in, “but there might be something in one of the other stations. Give me until tomorrow morning and I’ll be able to find out. Where can I reach you?”
“The Hamilton Hotel,” Toby said. “Room 313.”
He and Clara walked to the open door where the captain still stood.
“It’s good to see you again, Tobias,” he said. “You look like you’re doing well. Happier than when you left here.”
Toby’s lips turned up in a small, introspective smile. “I am. I think I’ve found my place.”
“I’m glad. You deserve it.” His eyes moved to Clara. “And it was especially good to meet you, Mrs. Campbell. If the two of you are here for long enough, you should come over for dinner. I know Eileen would love to see you again, Tobias.”
Toby shook his hand. “It was good to see you too, sir.”
“None of that ‘sir’ stuff now. I’m not your boss anymore. Call me Larry.”
Toby nodded, smiling. “Yes, sir. Larry.”
Once outside, Clara slipped her hand around Toby’s arm. They walked for a block befo
re she spoke. “He doesn’t mind his name being shortened.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
Chapter Thirteen
On arriving back at their hotel, they had a late supper before returning to their suite. Both of them claimed a space on the settee with a book, even though there were two other chairs that were equally as comfortable.
After an hour or so, Toby lowered his forensic science tome to his lap. “We should probably get some sleep. We’ve had a long day.”
Clara slumped in relief. She’d been holding in a yawn for a good ten minutes. “Good idea.”
Neither of them moved.
“You can use the bathroom first, if you’d like to,” he said.
“That’s very kind of you, thank you.”
Still neither of them made a move to leave the settee.
After a further ten seconds of inaction, he said, “How about we both go to the bedroom and we can take turns changing and using the bathroom?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Promise you won’t sneak back in here while I’m in the bathroom?”
“As long as you promise the same.”
She held out her hand. “Deal.”
He took it and stood, pulling her up with him. “Deal.”
Leaving him in the bedroom, she took her nightdress and robe to the bathroom. When she emerged ten minutes later, he’d changed into his pajamas, including the top half.
She had to admit to herself that she may have been a little disappointed by that.
“Remember, you promised,” he said as he walked past her to the bathroom.
“I’ll be here.”
He’d left his shirt on the bed and she picked it up to put away. Glancing at the now closed bathroom door, she lifted it to her face to draw in a deep breath of the masculine aroma clinging to the material.
There was something enticing about his scent, she’d noticed the night before as she lay beside him in bed. It wasn’t what she would call a perfume and there wasn’t anything particularly pleasant about it, like, say, the aroma of a rose or a baking cake. Although it certainly wasn’t unpleasant. But when it filled her lungs, she felt a deep desire to get closer to him.