An Agent for Jocelyn

by Lynn Donovan

  “Of course, Sir. Please complete this form.”

  Owen filled out the message and gave it back to the man. “I need this to go out right away. It is urgent and when a response comes, I need you to let me know. No matter what time it is.” He flipped another coin on the counter.

  “It will be my pleasure, Sir.” The man slid the coins into his gloved hand and took the form into a back room. In mere seconds, he returned to the counter.

  Owen gasped as if he had just had a thought. “Oh, and I need to get a message across town, do you have a courier who can take it?”

  “Of course, Sir. Do you need stationary?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The concierge handed Owen paper and pen and ink. He took it to a tall desk to his right and scratched out a message to Ralston. Blotting the ink dry, he addressed the envelope, and sealed it with a lit candle that was conveniently sitting on the desk. Returning to the counter, he handed it to the concierge.

  “Your wire is being sent as we speak, Sir.” He glanced at the addressed envelope. “Ah, yes. We shall have this delivered immediately.” He walked to the entry door and whistled. A taxi carriage pulled up and the man handed the envelope to the driver. Owen and Jocelyn watched the carriage pull away.

  Owen took Jocelyn’s arm. “Let’s retire for the evening, my dear.”

  “Yes, my husband,” she purred.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jocelyn floated into their hotel room and eased down on a divan. “Uhh. I am so full. Thank you for taking me to that restaurant.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So, tell me this brilliant plan you had at dinner.” She smiled and closed her eyes. “No, let me guess. You asked Ralston to call the investors back for another meeting, and you told him that Father has additional information regarding the legitimacy of the diamond field?” She peeked out from under one eye to see his reaction. “What I don’t know is why you had to send Archie a wire. Are you asking for another man to disguise himself as Father?”

  Owen stared at her with wide eyes. “Spot. On. You have my entire plan figured out.”

  She shrugged. “It was an easy puzzle to put together.”

  He sat beside her. The smile on Owen’s face made her smile too. “You are a very clever woman, Jocelyn. I enjoy having you as my… partner.”

  Again, why did he say ‘partner’ and not wife? This sham of a marriage of convenience was seriously stifling what might be between them. Duty requires they keep their amorous emotions in check for the sake of the case. Once they determined who ordered her father’s murder, would there be an opening for her to discuss what had been burdening her heart? Would Owen even consider staying in this marriage with her? Did she dare ask? She lifted her head from the back of the divan and scooted forward. “Owen. May I ask you something?”

  He opened his eyes. “Of course.”

  A knock came to the door and Owen turned toward it. “Hold that thought.” He rushed to open the door. A bell hop handed him a folded piece of paper. “Mister Granger said you needed this right away, Sir.”

  “Thank you.” Owen took the paper and handed the boy a coin. Closing the door, he rushed to the divan beside Jocelyn. He nodded as he read the wire. “Archie is sending Ransom Williams. Perfect. He has your coloring and he’s a little over six foot.”

  “So, he has red hair, like me?”

  Owen shook his head. “No but he looks near enough to—”

  “—To play the part?” She finished his sentence.

  “I believe so.”

  “And will I be allowed to brief him before we present him to the investors?”

  “Not needed. He’s not actually going to say much. We just need that shock when he walks in. Do you have any of your father’s work clothes?”

  Jocelyn swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Good. We’ll be sure to give them to Ransom so he can look the part.”

  “I-I’ll be able to get it back from him, right?”

  Owen paused. “Oh, darling. I wasn’t thinking.” He took her hands into his and leveled his eyes with hers, pressing his forehead against her forehead. “I’m so sorry. Yes, of course you will get your father’s clothing back. Ransom just needs it for the disguise.”

  Jocelyn closed her eyes and hated the tear that squeezed out. “It’s just still so hard.”

  “I know, darling.” He enveloped her in his arms and held her against his chest. Kissing the top of her head. “You are such a good agent, I forget you are grieving. Forgive me?”

  She pivoting her head to look up at him, but words wouldn’t come. He stared into her eyes, capturing her heart. Gently he lowered his face to hers and kissed her soundly, sweetly. She kissed him back, sliding her hand up into his hair and entangling her fingers in his curls. Their kiss deepened and she felt her heart soar into the sky. An ache tugged at her midsection. She wanted more. Pulling him closer, a moan escaped her mouth. “Owen… I—”

  He lifted his head, his eyes darting between hers. “Don’t.”

  She searched his eyes. Don’t what? Did he not want her? How could that be when she wanted him with her entire being? Was this a mistake? She scooted back from him. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks with scalding heat. “I’m sorry. I—”

  He grabbed her hand and pressed it against his chest. “No. Don’t be sorry. I understand. I am fighting inappropriate urges too. But we are not clear headed right now. Let’s get through this case, lay the report on Archie’s desk, and then start this conversation again.”

  She let his words float around in her mind. Did that answer her question? He wanted to discuss their feelings later. After the case is solved. There was a strong possibility he felt the same way she did. Otherwise he’d just tell her they could not entertain such amorous thoughts. Right? She swallowed hard. “Um, sure.”

  He nodded. “Let’s go to bed. Uh, I mean. You go to bed and I’ll sleep here on the divan. We’ll meet Williams in two days at the depot and get him set up. Good thing I told Ralston to set up the meeting three days from today.”

  “Yes.” Her mind remained in an amatory fog. He was right. She knew it. If only she could convince her heart it was the right thing to do. She rose from the divan and staggered to the bedchamber. Sleep would not be her friend tonight, but she’d try. They had all day tomorrow to spend together since it would take Ransom Williams a day and a half to arrive. Perhaps she could concentrate on the idea of a leisurely day with Owen to help lull her mind into a peaceful night’s rest.

  

  “Room service!” Someone hollered at the door. Jocelyn leapt out of bed. Coffee was definitely what she needed right now. She’d finally gone to sleep, about an hour ago. Knowing Owen was in the next room. Trying to squash her feelings for him, for now, kept her heart actively taunting her mind. She wanted to go to him and ruin their chances for an annulment. But her fear that he might not feel the same for her kept her weighted down in the oversized bed.

  Hopefully whatever she and Owen did today, it would include a quick nap around midday. She shrugged into her day gown and padded to the common room, just as Owen was putting coins in the deliverer’s hand. The tray of toast and bacon looked lovely with a fresh flower in a crystal vase, but the silver coffee urn was her target.

  Taking a half slice of toast as she walked away from the cart, she sighed with pleasure and sat down. “What time do you suppose the stores open?”

  “Not sure.” Owen looked at her questioningly. “Why?”

  Jocelyn sipped the coffee. “Oh, I was thinking we might browse through a few of them. It’s not often a geologist gets to come to San Francisco and have extra time on her hands.”

  Owen frowned. “Time on her hands? You want to go shopping? We need to use our time today to interview some of those we mentioned at dinner.”

  She sat up straighter. “Oh! I thought we were waiting on your man, Williams?”

  “Yes, but there are more productive ways to spend our time while we wait for him to arrive.”<
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  “I see.” Jocelyn ate the toast and rose to get more. “I didn’t know that was what you had in mind.”

  Owen chuckled. “A Pinkerton never sleeps. Haven’t you heard our slogan? We are constantly working. The only reason we would spend the day shopping would be because our suspect had something to do with the retail industry.”

  Jocelyn glared at Owen. The sting of his insult pricked her heart and sparked a little flame that soon rose into her face. The more she considered his words, the madder she became.

  He continued, “Now we could stop by that jeweler’s shop, William Willis, who had agreed to display the uncut di—”

  “I was not suggesting I wanted to take advantage of the Pinkerton Agency. I merely was not aware of what you had in mind. When you said your man, Williams, would be a day and a half, you made it sound like we would do nothing else until he got here.”

  “Well, I’m sorry if I got your hopes up for a leisurely day. There is work to be done and I, for one, will be on it. You can take the day and browse the shops if you wish, I suppose.” He looked her up and down as if seeing her for the first time and not liking what he saw. “It certainly would not be the first investigation I handled alone.”

  “No.” Jocelyn stamped her foot and instantly regretted it. She didn’t want to come across as a spoiled child demanding her way. But he did frustrate her. Why could he not understand she simply misunderstood his plans for today? Agh! She squeezed her eyes closed and breathed as steadily as possible. “I will accompany you on these interviews.” Her tone remained angry, but she just could not relax her jaw and stop speaking through clenched teeth. “I simply didn’t realize you intended to conduct the interviews before your man arrived.”

  He stood stoic, glaring at her. “Alright, then. Let’s confer who we should speak to first.”

  Jocelyn sighed, letting the anger flake off like a snake skin. She poured herself another cup of coffee and sat down, lifting her notepad and pencil from the small table. “Yes. I’d like to speak to the Ralston staff first. I want to know if Mister Ralston keeps company with ruffians.”

  Owen, too, sluffed off the tension with a heavy sigh. “My bet is that maid… uh, Millie. I think we can get her to open up more easily than the butler.”

  Jocelyn rotated her eyes to the ceiling. “Agreed.” She focused on Owen. “But her employment may be supervised by him. We may have to go through him to question her.”

  “That’s a good point. Let’s keep that in mind as we approach the entire staff, from top down.”

  “What if we indeed interview the entire staff even though we are actually only interested in what Millie can tell us.”

  Owen smiled. “I like the way you think.”

  Jocelyn frowned at Owen. Was this another of those slanted compliments? “I can’t tell if you just gave me a compliment or… what?”

  Owen’s smile widened. “Oh my dear, that was a compliment. You keep impressing me with your abilities to peel down the layers, just like a Pinkerton would.”

  She lifted her chin. “Just like a geologist would.”

  He nodded. “Touché.”

  He poured himself another cup of coffee and prepared a plate of bacon and toast. “Let’s eat up and get over to the Ralstons’ home. We have a lot of people to see.”

  “What will be our reason for interviewing the staff?” Jocelyn couldn’t imagine an excuse good enough to get them in the door.

  Owen tilted his head in thought. “Well, we are looking for J. F. Berry, for one. We want to know if Ralston might be doing business with men crude enough to commit murder. It’s an open investigation regarding the diamond hoax. No one knows for sure where Arnold and Slack have disappeared to. Perhaps we start with Ralston first and then ask him if we could question his staff because lower-class people have a tendency to know lower-moraled people. We will tell Ralston we are investigating whether anyone knew Arnold and Slack well enough to know where they had gone.”

  She studied Owen’s sincerity. “That actually sounds reasonable.”

  “Of course it does. It’s what I do.” He smirked and drank down the last of his coffee. “Now, let’s get dressed.”

  She nodded and rushed to the bedchamber. She had more to do than he to be ready, but she didn’t want to delay him any longer than she had to. Keep it simple, she told herself as she selected a sensible walking gown to wear. A quick up-twist of her hair and she was ready. Stopping to glance at herself in the oval mirror, she patted her hair. Did Owen think her pretty?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Owen hailed a taxi and helped Jocelyn into the carriage. Under normal circumstances he would be running scenarios through his mind so that he could stay a step ahead of these people they were about to interview. However, his brain was befuddled. Even in a simple walking gown, this woman Archie had placed in Owen’s care as his partner scrambled his thoughts. Her beauty alone was not what mangled his mind. In his life, he’d encountered a variety of very beautiful women. He had many opportunities to surrender his heart to any one of them. But surrender he did not. He was a loner.

  There was something different about Jocelyn King Latimer. Her beauty came from somewhere more deeply set inside her. She was brilliant. She bested him deciphering the complicated twists and turns of the mysterious case. Like himself, she could read people and determine by their reaction or inaction whether they were burdened with guilt. She could read him. She knew what he was thinking before he articulated a word. And she had the most kissable lips he’d ever seen. They drew him to her like the needle of a compass must reach for north.

  Jocelyn’s voice broke into Owen’s thoughts. “Do you have a strategy worked out in your head that you can share with me for these interviews, or do you just… observe the lay of land and dig where it looks intriguing?”

  He smiled. “I love the way you relate things to geological work.”

  She shrugged. “It generally applies to everything. So… do you?

  “Yes and no.” Owen took her hand in his. Even through her gloves, her hand felt warm. “We know what we want to know. But we have to be careful not to lead the interviewee into saying things that trick us unto thinking they are confirming what we want them to say. Does that make sense?”

  She nodded. “Of course. It is the same with our digs. Just because we want to find evidence of an era full of unusual life, doesn’t mean it’s really where we are digging. We have to be careful not to mistake common metamorphic rocks with fossilized critters or plants.”

  He considered her for a moment and then a smile creeped onto his mouth. “Right.”

  “So, I’ll let you take the lead and when I feel I have a handle on the process, I’ll stick my trowel into the dirt.” She grinned mischievously, intentionally exaggerating her geological metaphor to make her point.

  It made him laugh. “You do that.”

  The carriage arrived at the Ralston home. Owen drew in a deep breath and helped Jocelyn to the street. As they approached the door, he put his hand on her back in a protective manner. She didn’t flinch. He rather enjoyed having her as his partner, but more enjoyable was the whole idea that she actually was his wife, too. If only this were not a temporary state of matrimony. He really could get used to introducing Jocelyn as his wife.

  The door opened and the same butler greeted them.

  “Good day, my good man.” Owen tipped his hat. “I’m sorry to come unannounced, is Mr. Ralston available?”

  “Who is it, Bladimir?” Ralston’s widowed mother’s distinguishable voice echoed in the large foyer.

  Bladimir turned from Owen and Jocelyn. “It is Mister and Missus Owen Latimer, Ma’am. They are asking for Master William. Shall I let them in?”

  “What do they want?” she insisted.

  Jocelyn glanced at Owen with questioning brows. He lifted his in response.

  Bladimir turned back to them. “May I inquire as to your business with Master Ralston?”

  “Of course.” Owen answered patiently.
“It turns out my wife’s father has discovered important information about the validity of this diamond find and we would like to discuss it with Mister Ralston before Mister King arrives in San Francisco.”

  “Wha—!” A shuffle followed the breathy exclamation.

  Bladimir let go of the door and rushed behind it. Owen pushed the door further open. Mrs. Ralston clung to the banister of the staircase, apparently having swooned, but not fallen down.

  “Oh my goodness.” Jocelyn rushed in to Mrs. Ralston’s side. “Are you alright, Missus Ralston?”

  Her eyes fluttered and her mouth gapped open. “Yes.” She breathed. “Yes, I’m quite alright. My heart gives me trouble. It’s just a spell. If I could just sit down, Bladimir. Could you call Millie to bring me my tonic?”

  “Yes madame.” Bladimir took her elbow and with Jocelyn on the women’s other side, they walked her into the sitting room next to the foyer and eased her into a chair.

  “Are you sure you’re alright, Missus Ralston?” Jocelyn knelt beside the women.

  “Yes, yes, my dear. It’s just the old ticker.” Mrs. Ralston laid her head against the back of the chair with a weary sigh.

  Owen stood nearby. “Well—”

  “Mother!” William Ralston ran down the stairs, shouting as he came into the sitting room. “Mother? Are you alright?”

  Her eyes popped open. “Yes, son. I’m fine. I-uh, I believe you have guests.”

  Ralston’s eyes darted to Owen and Jocelyn. “What? Why are you here? I thought we were meeting day after tomorrow.”

  “Right you are.” Owen spoke quickly. “We simply had some good news and thought we’d come in person to deliver it.”

  Ralston looked from Owen to his mother, then to Jocelyn and Bladimir. “Oh, alright, get on with it, then.” He patted his mother’s hand. She closed her eyes, again, and lay back against the chair, breathing rather sporadically.