An Agent for Jocelyn

by Lynn Donovan

  Jocelyn nodded and walked into the bed chamber. Utter confusion swirling in her mind. Neither did she. He was untrustworthy. Wasn’t he? Could it be possible that he had changed so much being a Pinkerton Agent? Living the code of a Pinkerton? Could she truly allow herself to fall in love?

  She did feel exhausted. Completely exhausted. A short nap might clear her head. She lay down with a heavy sigh, but sleep didn’t grace her with rest. Behind her closed eyes she could see the men at that meeting. Their anger and frustration. One by one, she recalled perusing them and their reactions against everything Owen said. Owen had an amazing talent for controlling the volatile emotions.

  But who had so much to lose they would hire thugs to kill the messengers of the false field? Ralston? He said his reputation as a banker was jeopardized and that he had planned to sell his shares tonight after Janin informed them of the legitimacy of the diamond field. Perhaps she and Owen should begin with talking to Ralston’s staff. Would they be aware of Mr. Ralston hiring roadside bandits to kill her father? But then, how would Ralston even know the news that her father was bringing, unless J. F. Berry had somehow gotten word back to Ralston—

  But that was impossible. It had only been a few hours after Berry left that dig site that her father packed up to head back. They had been on the trail to Wyoming a day and a half. Was that enough time to deliver the news and receive orders to kill the geologists?

  Owen was downstairs at this very moment sending a wire to inquire about Berry’s whereabouts. Could Berry have done the same? But from where? That diamond field was rather isolated from civilization. Mostly Indian land. Where could he have gone to notify anybody about the fraudulent field?

  Could the roadside bandits have been a coincidence? They didn’t gain any money from the killings. Who stops a group of travelers on an isolated road without suspecting there was something of value to gain from it?

  She rolled over. Nothing made sense! A tear wet her pillow as she closed her eyes tight and tried to push aside the faces from that meeting. Could Arnold or Slack have hired someone to stop her father? The men said Slack hadn’t been seen for six months and Arnold left town two weeks ago. She shook her head. That didn’t add up either. Arnold had received his buy-out funds. He’d already washed his hands of the fraudulent scheme.

  Maybe Owen saw something she didn’t. His checkered past did give him a keen insight for a scam. Hopefully he knew something she did not. They planned to discuss it at dinner. She rose from the bed, wearily, intent on dressing for dinner. She couldn’t sleep now, anyway. The door to their room opened.

  Her heart jerked with joy. Owen was back! Why did that give her such excitement? She really needed to get this runaway emotion under control. This time with Owen was limited and would not amount to anything more than to solve these mysterious murders. Nothing more. Hopefully, nothing less either. She couldn’t continue without knowing who committed this heinous crime.

  “I can’t sleep. Shall we go to dinner?”

  Owen laid papers on the small desk. “Yes, just let me change.”

  “Of course. I should freshen up as well.”

  His eyes roved over her. “Indeed.”

  Did she look that disheveled? Well, she would show him. She had lovely dinner gowns and she’d send for a chambermaid to help with her hair. He would not be embarrassed to go to dinner with her when she was finished. “Could you do me a favor and ask the concierge to send up a chambermaid at once?”

  Owen stood still for a moment. “Of course. H-how long will it take you… to freshen up?”

  She smiled. “Not more than an hour or two.” She knew she exaggerated, but keeping Owen off guard made her happy for some reason and she’d just let him be surprised when she emerged from the bedchamber in less than an hour.

  “I’ll be right back.” Owen stated matter-of-factly, but with a hint of disappointment in his tone. Did he live by his stomach’s needs?

  She returned to the bedchamber to select the perfect dress.

  

  “I am not buying that your father’s demise was a coincidence!” Owen shouted to be heard through the closed doors as he paced the common room, anticipating Jocelyn’s entrance from the bedchamber.

  She had said it would be more than an hour before she would be ready to go to dinner. The immediate task at hand of determining suspects burned in his brain. Who had murdered the geological team and why had the thugs let her run free? Jocelyn had stated that their faces were covered with bandanas so perhaps they allowed her to get away for two reasons: because she was a woman and so she could report that the geologists were dead. How could thick-headed, murderous thugs realize she was as clever as the men and held the fraudulent information in her head?

  A click drew his attention to the barrier between them, he turned just as the doors opened. The chambermaid curtsied to him and scurried away. Jocelyn slowly stepped into the frame of the door. Poised fashionably as if for a portrait, she stood in a deep plum gown that accentuated her small waste and tall stature, with just a hint of her creamy bosom, she looked every inch an affluent woman. Owen’s mouth dropped open. “My word,” he uttered. “You… look amazing.”

  She lifted her eyebrow and chin. “Thank you. Shall we go to dinner?”

  He presented his elbow to her and she moved closer to him to accept. “You look too beautiful for a hotel diner. We should walk down to the Fior d’Italia.”

  She grinned. “As you wish, my husband.”

  Her words shot through Owen like a cannonball. She was his wife and he was her husband, and they were about to go to dinner in one of San Francisco’s finest restaurants. With her on his arm, he was proud to escort her through town and into such an elegant establishment. Few men could boast their wife was as beautiful as she, and even less could claim their wife was as clever and companionable as Jocelyn. “Do you like Italian cuisine?”

  “I’m not sure.” She had never been to a restaurant that served a specific country’s ethnic foods. Common American foods were all she’d ever experienced, that and campfire grub. But being here in San Francisco without her father, she was certainly willing to experience something new… and expensive.

  The geology team had a tendency to be reserved with their willingness to try new foods. She and her father seldom encouraged the team to experiment beyond their comfort and she and her father generally ate whatever was convenient to where they were staying.

  “Well,” Owen smiled as he led her to the door. “I assure you, the Italian cuisine is well worth getting to know. You are in for a real treat.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  With wine ordered and selections made, Jocelyn’s mind rifled through the faces and names she had observed earlier today. Owen must have had the same thoughts. It was he who broke the silence.

  “What was your initial read of the men we met today?”

  “They all have more money than good sense.”

  Owen laughed. “Right you are. But did anyone stand out to you as a person who might want to stop a report from interrupting his profitable opportunity at any cost?”

  “No.” Her eyes roved the table as if her thoughts were laid out like note cards. “Mister Janin seemed surprised to see me, but my gut tells me it had more to do with learning that I was your wife, rather than that I survived the bushwackers.”

  “True.” Owen looked around the restaurant casually. “I got the same feeling about Janin. He didn’t act surprised when you spoke of your father as if he were simply delayed or preoccupied with another project, as opposed to being… well, you know. Unless whoever hired those thugs has a well-kept vault for his emotions, I can’t claim anyone caught my eye as a suspect.”

  A waiter brought a bottle of wine and served a sampling to Owen. He approved and the waiter poured for Jocelyn and then finished filling Owen’s glass. They thanked him and saluted each other with a touch of their glasses before drinking. Jocelyn was delighted with the sweet burgundy wine. If this was any indication of the flavo
rs she was about to experience, she anticipated she’d enjoy this discovery of Italian cuisine.

  She reached into her reticule and took out a small pad and pencil. “Let’s go over each man as we encountered him.”

  “Good idea. Layer by layer, just like a geological scientist would look for fossils.”

  “… Or gem stones.” Jocelyn shrugged. She was, after all, such a scientist. “Now, first we met the butler. He didn’t exhibit any peculiar reaction to our appearing at the Ralston home.”

  “No. He didn’t. But butlers are trained to be expressionless. So I wouldn’t completely rule him out. Perhaps he was ordered to find some thugs willing to commit a heinous crime for a purse.”

  “Good point.” Jocelyn nodded. “We should see if we can interview him, but I think such an interview would yield the same stoic results.”

  “Ah, yes, but we will have to be clever and ask just the right questions to monitor how he responds.”

  Jocelyn pursed her lips as she wrote down the door butler. “Hmm. I suppose so. Do you know just such ‘right’ questions?”

  “I might. We shall have to see.”

  Jocelyn stared at him a moment. “Alright. So, then we gave our name to the man in the parlor who turned and announced us. Again, I feel having used Mister and Missus foiled the potential for an initial shock. We should have thought of that before we went in.”

  “Ah.” Owen responded. “But your friend Janin corrected that by loudly announcing your maiden name, and the only exaggerated response was Mister Ralston’s mother fumbling with the tea tray due to her arthritis.”

  “Yes.” Jocelyn considered Mrs. Ralston. “He fussed at her about dropping that tray. I suppose the poor dear is getting feeble in her old age.

  “Uh huh.” Owen looked to be deep in thought. “And that maid, what was her name?”

  “Millie.” Jocelyn offered. “She had a strange look on her face when Ralston ordered her to clean up his mother’s mess and bring another tea tray.

  “She did. How often do you see maids give their employer a hostile look?”

  “Not often. But then again, I am seldom around servants.” Jocelyn’s eyes returned to her imaginary note cards.

  “Well, I get into many different roles as a Pinkerton operative and I have never seen such a brazen reaction without reprimand. Perhaps we should question this… Millie. Add her to our list.”

  Jocelyn looked up from her pad. “Just did. Now, it was then that I realized the rotund man with two or three chins was our host, William C. Ralston, and the widow was his mother.”

  “Yes. But I have to admit, I didn’t see any notable reaction from him either. Although if I were to claim a reasonable suspect, he’d be at the top of my list. He said himself that he had a reputation to uphold as a banker. He’s obviously encouraged others to buy shares. Didn’t he say he was planning to sell his shares at this meeting based on the mining engineer’s confirmation that the field was indeed a true gem?” Owen looked at Jocelyn, pleased with his pun.

  She smiled, showing Owen she got the humorous use of the word. “Yes, he said that. And he did seem extremely disappointed when you informed everyone that the whole thing was a hoax.”

  "Well, sure. He and most of those men found out at that moment that they had lost a ridiculous amount of money investing in that diamond field.”

  She nodded. “But when you asked if J. F. Berry was present, I just knew someone would react. But I saw nothing. It was as if no one in that parlor had ever heard of him. Could it be that he had simply heard rumors of this field’s existence from… I don’t know… Tiffany or some other jeweler and came to see for himself? He said he was a diamond dealer from New York. I believe Mr. Tiffany is from New York as well.”

  “That’s a reasonable assumption. But if Berry had enough interest in the diamond field to ride out there through what you described as very harsh conditions, why wouldn’t he have been at that meeting… except that he already knew the results of your findings. Wasn’t your father concerned he’d beat you all back to San Francisco and reveal the truth before you could get there? Perhaps he went the other direction and informed some other group of investors of the fraudulence.”

  “Perhaps.” Jocelyn let all that meld into her thoughts. “Hopefully something will come from your wire to New York. At least we can find out who this J. F. Berry really is.”

  Owen nodded. The waiter brought their food and a basket with long skinny bread sticks covered in a buttery garlic. Jocelyn cut into her cheesy mound of tomato and herb sauce over layers of tender, creamy pasta. She scooped the first bite into her mouth. The flavors blended and washed over her pallet with ease. “Hmmm. This is wonderful.”

  Owen smiled. “Yes. I told you the Italian cuisine is well worth getting to know.”

  “Uh hum,” she mumbled, savoring the tantalizing tastes in her mouth. Focusing her attention on the meal, she continued to clean her plate and drink the wine. Afterward, she wiped her mouth and placed her linen napkin next to her plate with a very satisfied sigh. “I can now say, I love Italian food.”

  Owen chuckled. “Yes. I am your witness. You cleared that in record time.” He wiped his mouth and drank down the last of his wine. “I’ve been thinking about Mister Charles Tiffany. I mean, who hasn’t heard of the Tiffany Jewelry Company. They have earned themselves a fine reputation for exquisite pieces. Why do you suppose he would come all this way to San Francisco from New York, just to find out if the field was legit?”

  “Other than he had given his opinion on a sampling of the stones and recited they were much more valuable than they really were?” Jocelyn folded her hands in her lap. “Perhaps he was hoping to salvage his reputation with finding more appropriately valued gems.” Jocelyn shrugged, running the scene at the meeting through her mind. Tiffany had stood at the back of the men until he moved forward to announce his disappointment to learn of the fraud.” She shifted in her chair. “In fact, if I were to be concerned about anybody’s well-being since that meeting, I’d put my money on Mister Tiffany. Do we know where he is staying and how much longer he will be here in San Francisco? Should we call Mister Gordon and ask for an escort to ensure Mister Tiffany gets back to New York in one piece?”

  Owen chuckled. “You think like a Pinkerton already.”

  Heat filled Jocelyn’s face. She knew it was not the wine. “Well I have had a lot of experience looking under rocks for hidden treasures, it’s not too far of a leap to assess a situation and someone’s safety associated with it.”

  He had complimented her again, only this time there was no confusion about it being a meaningful compliment. A slight smile curled on her lips as she gazed at the handsome Owen Latimer. His kindness warmed her heart. Did she dare allow herself to have these feelings for him? This marriage of convenience should block her from welcoming such emotions and yet, welcome them she did.

  He nodded. “True.” Silence filled the space between then as they both reflected on their own thoughts. “What about George Roberts?”

  Jocelyn tilted her head, pulling her wandering mind back to the immediate topic. “He was the first person Arnold and Slack came to with a bag of gems. Perhaps he feels if anyone was duped, it was he. Essentially, he started the whole investment claim process, attempting to buy out Arnold and Slack. According to my father’s documentation, Asbury Harpending, Ralston, William Lent, and General George S. Dodge were the first to offer Arnold and Slack one hundred thousand dollars to take over the claim and began distributing shares in it.

  “Any one of them could be suspect to killing the messenger who brought news that it all was false.”

  “True.” Owen sat back in his chair. “I suppose tomorrow we need to interview these men, one by one and see who indicates any surprise—”

  Owen sat forward. “Wait a minute. Surprise is our greatest tool. We need to continue to act as if your father is alive and in fact coming to speak to these men himself. Whoever ordered to have him killed will know he’s not coming�
��” Owen grinned mischievously. “But what if—”

  He looked around. “Let’s go to the hotel. I need to send another wire.”

  “Why, what are you thinking?”

  “I’ll tell you when we get in our room. How tall was your father?”

  “About six foot even, why?” Jocelyn sighed heavily. “Alright, but I don’t see why—”

  Owen practically dragged her out of her chair and shoved her forward to leave the restaurant. She stumbled and grabbed his arm to steady herself. Mumbling kind words to the maitre d’ and unkind words to Owen, she staggered onto the boardwalk. Owen didn’t even pause, he continued to drag her toward their hotel.

  “Stop!” She yanked her arm out of his grasp.

  He turned startled eyes on her. “Come on, we need to get to our hotel so I can send a wire to Archie.”

  “Fine! But must you drag me the entire way. I am perfectly capable of walking, Sir.”

  Owen dipped his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m not accustomed to being partnered with the fairer sex.”

  “Fairer sex? Listen here, Mister Latimer. I have climbed peaks that would make you pass out or vomit, or both! I guarantee you I’m fitter than you. But I am wearing a rather snug corset and have multiple petticoats that tangle with my lower limbs. I am not appropriately dressed for a foot race. Now, if you wish to see who is the fittest, I shall need time to go to our hotel and change clothes.”

  He stood looking down at the hem of her beautiful dinner gown, then slowly lifted his eyes to hers. “Yes. I do forget. My apologies.” I will walk at a more appropriate pace, but could we hurry as much as possible. I am anxious to get word to the home office so as to carry out a rather brilliant plan that I have cooked up, if I do say so myself.”

  “Yes, Owen, I will hurry as much as is humanly possible under the restraints that I am faced with.”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you.” She nodded as well.

  He took her arm and let her set the speed at which they walked. It was faster than a stroll but slower than what he had begun when they first exited the Fior d’Italia. At the hotel, he rushed up to the concierge. “I need to send a wire, my good man.” Owen flipped some coins on the desk.