by Nerys Leigh
She didn’t understand it. It couldn’t simply be that he was a man; she’d smelled her brothers and father plenty of times and their odors hadn’t moved her at all. Toby’s scent, on the other hand, made her want to wrap herself in it and never take another breath without him near.
Shaking her head, she opened the armoire and hung the shirt on a hook inside. It was a ridiculous notion. When the case was over, they’d get an annulment and go their separate ways. There was no point in speculating on any alternative.
Sitting on the bed to wait, she ignored the urge to pick up his pillow and sniff that too.
A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom. His gaze flicked to the open living room door and his posture tensed.
She uncrossed her ankles and gripped the edge of the mattress beneath her.
He took a step in the direction of the living room.
She leapt from the bed, racing for the door.
He sprinted after her.
They both reached the doorway at the same time. There was a brief tussle as each struggled to be first through.
Clara broke free and dashed across the room to fling herself onto the settee.
“On no you don’t!” Toby grabbed her from behind as she hit the cushions, wrapping his hands around her waist and lifting her into the air.
She yelped and kicked as he hoisted her up and pivoted to deposit her onto a chair. By the time she’d scrambled off, he was on his back on the settee.
“No fair!” She leapt on top of him, making an attempt to wriggle in beside him so she could lever him off. Her efforts weren’t aided by the fact that she was now giggling helplessly.
He grasped her arms, pinning her in place on top of him, and their struggles came to a halt as they panted for breath, grinning at each other.
His smile faded as he gazed up at her, sending her heart pattering for reasons that had nothing to do with her physical exertion.
“I, um.” He cleared his throat. “I think we need to work something out.”
She was having trouble thinking clearly. “Work something out?”
“About the sleeping arrangements.”
Sleeping arrangements? “Oh, yes. Sleeping arrangements. Right. What do you suggest?”
At that moment, she would have been perfectly happy for them to share the settee, exactly as they were now. Him lying beneath her, their bodies pressed close and…
He licked his lips and swallowed. “How about we take half the night each? One of us sleeps on the bed until, say, three in the morning, then we swap so the other gets the bed for the rest of the night.”
It was a perfectly logical course of action. She hated it. “Who gets the bed first?”
He shrugged, as much as he was able while pinned beneath her. “Which would you prefer?”
She almost groaned. He was really going to do this when the bed was big enough for both of them? Obviously her proximity had no effect on him at all, because his was driving her crazy.
“You take it first,” she said. “I’ll come and wake you when it’s my turn.”
“All right.” There were a few seconds of silence. “You’re going to have to get off me if I’m going to have the bed first.”
Did she have to? She was enjoying her position lying on top of him, with his aroma drifting over her. Was it possible to become addicted to a man’s scent?
With a surreptitious final deep inhale, she climbed off.
He pushed to his feet. “I’ll get you a pillow and a couple of blankets.”
She dropped onto the settee with a huff as he walked into the bedroom.
Having won the right to sleep there suddenly didn’t feel so good.
Chapter Fourteen
For the second day in a row, Tobias awoke with a woman cuddled in his arms. At least this time it was marginally less startling than it had been the previous morning.
He lay still for a few minutes, the scent of Clara’s hair drifting over him and the soft, steady sound of her breathing filling his ears. If he was honest with himself, he liked the sensation very much.
Not that he’d ever admit it to her.
She woke the same way she had the previous morning, with a deep breath followed by a few sleepy blinks and then a smile as she looked up at him.
“You’re here again,” he pointed out.
“So I am.”
“You were supposed to wake me so we could swap.”
“I didn’t like to. You looked so peaceful and comfortable and…”
“Warm?”
“You are wonderfully warm.” Her thumb rubbed little circles on his skin where her hand rested in exactly the same spot on his side as it had the previous morning.
She seemed to like having her hand there. He tried to ignore the fact that he did too.
“We’re going to need to come to some sort of agreement about this.”
“I agree,” she said. “Let’s just share the bed. It’s plenty big enough for both of us.”
“Not that kind of agreement.” Did she not realize the effect women had on men where beds were concerned? “Clara, there are things that… that… happen to a man when…” He paused to swallow. “What I mean to say is, you may not be aware that men have certain urges.” He winced. Urges? “That is, we aren’t like women. Sometimes, entirely against our will, our bodies react in certain ways…” Maybe he should just stop talking.
She moved her hand from his side to cup his jaw. In some ways, that was better. In others, it was much, much worse.
His eyes, completely of their own volition, flicked to her lips for a split second.
He desperately hoped she hadn’t noticed.
“I trust you,” she said. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
For a brief few seconds, he couldn’t speak. On an intellectual level he’d known she trusted him, but hearing the words felt like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed. And somehow, that affected him even more than her physical proximity.
“You can trust me,” he finally said. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”
Her soft smile made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “I know you wouldn’t. You’re a good man.” She patted his cheek. “So we’re agreed, we’re sharing the bed.” She rolled away to sit on the edge of the mattress.
“N-no,” he stammered. “I never said that.”
Grabbing her robe from the end of the bed, she stood and slipped it on over her nightgown.
“This isn’t the end of this conversation,” he told her back as she headed for the bathroom.
She glanced back at him with a smile. “It may surprise you to learn that women have urges too.” And then she disappeared into the bathroom.
After a few seconds, he whimpered a little.
Flopping back onto the bed, he stared at the ceiling. Clara Violet Lee Campbell was going to be the death of him.
The trouble was, he couldn’t bring himself to mind in the slightest.
~ ~ ~
There was no word from Captain Perkins by the time they’d finished breakfast so they headed out for some of the sightseeing Clara had wanted to do since they arrived.
Surprisingly, Tobias actually enjoyed himself. While he couldn’t say he missed living in the city, it was nice to see again some of the places he’d liked to go during the years he lived there.
Of course, Clara asked lots of questions about his life there. He answered most of them and managed to dodge those he preferred not to. Despite feeling more at ease with her than almost anyone else he knew, there were some things he just didn’t talk about.
By the time they got back to their suite after lunch, there was a message from the captain waiting for them.
“There are no records of a Josephine Chamberlain or Carter ever being arrested,” he told Clara as he scanned the missive, “but Clive Loomis has been arrested several times in the past ten years; twice in the past year alone. Mostly fraud. A couple of cases of theft.”
She shrug
ged off her jacket. “Is there an address for either of them?”
He flipped to the next page. “Nothing for Miss Carter. There’s one for Mr. Loomis though, confirmed accurate as of a month ago.”
She paused in the process of removing her hat. “Are we going right now?”
“Unless you have something else you’d like to do.”
~ ~ ~
They took a cab back down to Five Points.
Tobias had hoped not to have to go back to what was arguably the worst neighborhood in the city. When he’d left the police force six years previously, he’d hoped to never have to return. Now he was back for the second time in three days.
The address Captain Perkins had given them for Clive Loomis was in a tenement on Orange Street. This time they had a braver cab driver, and he took them right to the building. They left him with instructions to wait for them and headed inside.
They found Loomis’ apartment on the second floor and Tobias knocked on the door. After ten seconds, he knocked again.
“I don’t think he’s…” He stopped when he realized Clara was no longer standing behind him.
Looking around, he saw her knocking on the next door along.
“Good afternoon,” she said with a smile when it opened. “I wonder if you could help me?”
He started towards her, stopping when she covertly waved him back.
The woman standing in the doorway shrugged. “Don’t know. What do you want?”
“I’m looking for Mr. Clive Loomis. I was given his address as being next door here, but he doesn’t appear to be in. Would you know if he still lives there?”
The woman shrugged again. “Don’t know his name.”
“Is this him?” Clara pulled Tobias’ sketch of Loomis from her pocket and showed it to her.
“Yeah, that’s him. Haven’t seen him since yesterday though, since there was all that ruckus.”
“Ruckus?”
“Last night, from inside his apartment. Didn’t last long though.”
“Did you report it to the police?”
The woman snorted a laugh. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Clara gave her an innocent smile. “No, I’m just trying to find Mr. Loomis.”
He wasn’t sure how she was doing it, but the woman seemed perfectly happy to answer her questions. People tended to clam up around him.
“Well, when you’re from round here, you don’t get involved, you don’t go to the cops, and if there’s a ruckus, you stay where you’re safe.”
Clara nodded. “I understand. Thank you so much for your time.”
The door closed and she returned to Tobias. “At least we know he still lives here. We need to get in.”
She pushed one hand into a pocket hidden in her skirts and pulled out a small roll of fabric bound with a ribbon.
When she unraveled it, his jaw dropped. “What…? How…?”
She slid a curtain pick from the shiny set of lock picks. “If you have qualms about breaking the law, I’d look away.”
“How do you know how to pick locks?”
She inserted the pick and gently maneuvered it. “Five years ago I paid a locksmith to teach me. It’s a very useful skill to have when investigating.”
“I know.” It was something all Pinkerton agents learned. It was on his list of things to teach her, when he got the chance. He’d never imagined she already knew how. Clara was full of surprises.
The lock clicked open and she grinned. “Shall we?”
Before he could tell her to let him go first, she opened the door and walked in.
She came to an abrupt halt, her hands flying to her mouth. Her strangled gasp had him rushing past, ready to shield her from whatever threat lay inside the room.
But he was too late.
He whirled to face her, stepping in front of her to shield her view. “Don’t look. Just go back out and don’t look.”
She lifted her wide eyes to his, the hands pressed to her mouth trembling against her pale cheeks.
He knew it made no sense to keep her from the grisly scene. A Pinkerton agent had to be tough, ready to face things at which others would balk. She needed to get used to this. But at that moment, he would have done anything to protect her from the trauma of what lay in that room.
“You don’t have to see this,” he said, taking hold of her shoulders. “I can deal with it. Just go back to the cab and wait there.”
Her neck undulated in a swallow and she lowered her hands, her eyes dropping to his chest.
He wanted to pull her against him, shield her from all the evil in the world. She didn’t belong here. She was too happy, too carefree, too pure. She shouldn’t have to see the things he’d seen in his life.
She shook her head. “I can do it.” Her voice was so soft he barely heard it. “I have to do this.”
He tightened his grip on her shoulders. “No, you don’t. You can leave this room right now. Please, just go.”
She shook her head again, her voice strengthening as she looked up at him. “No. I wanted to solve crimes; I can’t ignore the results of them. If I’m going to be a Pinkerton agent, I have to be able to do this.”
“Please, Clara…”
She placed her hands over his. “I have to. I’ll be all right.”
He wanted to tell her that she was wrong and she wouldn’t be. That he hadn’t been. But this was her decision, not his.
So he released her and stepped from her path to close the door they’d entered. Then, steeling himself, he turned back to the room.
It wasn’t a large space, barely ten feet square. These tenement blocks had been built to house as many people as possible for as high a profit as possible, so space wasn’t a consideration.
“Try not to step in any of the blood,” he said. “I need to analyze what whoever did this left behind.”
“Is… is he dead?”
He almost said he hoped so, but he didn’t. Instead, he walked to the man slumped on a wooden chair in the center of the room, careful to tread only on clear areas of floor, and pressed two fingers to his jaw. He didn’t bother to find a pulse. The skin was too cold for him to be alive. The ropes binding him to the chair were the only things keeping him there.
“Yes, he’s dead.”
He examined the body, searching for a cause of death. Blood was everywhere, but the cuts on his face, arms and torso were shallow, not enough to kill. Then he saw the stab wound in the chest, almost hidden by the blood-soaked clothing around it, right over the heart.
“Is it Mr. Loomis?” Clara said, her voice tremulous but strong.
“No, it’s not him.” The hair was the wrong color, and the features, what he could see of them beneath the bruising and dried blood, were different from his sketch.
He searched the man’s pockets but found nothing.
“Ephraim Long,” Clara said.
He looked up to see she’d made her way to the bed where a jacket lay.
“There are three business cards in here with his name on. He was a banker. And a lawyer. And a doctor.”
Tobias straightened. “All of them? At once?”
“Doesn’t seem likely, does it?” Her eyes went to Mr. Long’s body. “I wonder if he had a family.”
He stepped into her line of sight. “Don’t think of it. We’re looking for evidence. You need to focus on that.”
She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and nodded. “I’m all right.”
He turned in a slow circle, eyes tracing the paths of cast off blood spattered across the floor and walls. Unsurprisingly, they were consistent with repeated slashes of a large knife.
“There were four men here,” he said, studying the bloody footprints ranged over the floor. “Four different soles and sizes.” He stopped at a change in the pattern. “There’s a void in the blood here.”
She followed his gaze. “Something was in the way.”
He nodded, impressed at her deduction. “That’s right. From the size and s
hape, I’d say another person.”
“Mr. Loomis?”
“Possibly.” He continued his survey of the walls.
“There’s something in the footprint here.”
He glanced at her then at the spot on the floor by the bed where she pointed.
She stooped to take a closer look at the bloody impression. Reaching down, she plucked something from the middle of the print and placed it into her palm, holding it out for him to see when he walked up to her.
“Looks like sawdust,” he said.
“It’s not pine, it’s too dark. Mahogany, perhaps?”
He took a small pinch and rubbed it between his fingers. “It’s very fine, likely from a furniture maker or something similar.”
She looked at the floor. “I can’t see any more. How do we know it wasn’t already here?”
He crouched to point at the print. “You see here? Where the sawdust is on top of the blood?”
“Which means the blood was here first,” she said.
“Yes. The sawdust probably got stuck in the tread of a boot and fell off here.”
She looked around the room, shuddering when her eyes fell upon the body. She’d seemed to perk up a little with her discovery of the sawdust clue, but the brief respite faded at the reminder of the brutal murder that had happened there. He wished he could do something to spare her the memories he knew would stay with her after this.
“I’ve never seen a dead person before,” she said. “Who would do something like this? I mean, killing a man is one thing, but cutting him up like that? Who would do something so inhuman?”
He’d always thought inhuman a strange word, since only humans were capable of such cruelty. “Gangs operate around here. If I had to guess, I’d say this is their work. Although which one and why, I don’t know.”
“So what do we do now?”
“We’ll search the rest of the room, then we’ll get the police.”
The only piece of furniture that could hold anything was a small chest of drawers, but they found nothing in it but clothing. At least that told them Clive Loomis had still been living there.
Tobias couldn’t help wondering if he was lying dead somewhere, but he didn’t say anything about his suspicions to Clara. Although she was being admirably calm, he was worried about her. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet since they found the body.