by Lynn Donovan
Owen lifted his brow. “What? Millie, you seem surprised to learn Mr. King and Mr. Berry are acquaintances? Could that be because it’s a lie? In fact, you are the one who knows J. F. Berry… or whatever his real name is…”
She stammered. “No! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mrs. Ralston lifted her head and glared at Millie. “You told me your brother would be discrete! I should have known I couldn’t trust a street urchin such as you!”
“Mistress Ralston! I-I love you like my own mother. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you!”
“Pshaw! You only serve me because I baited you with a promise of an inheritance when I die.”
Millie gasped. “I-you—” She glanced around the room. All eyes remained on them. Owen held out a set of handcuffs toward the maid, letting them swing from his thumb and finger. Millie stood and backed away from the widow. “Mistress Ralston! It was you who asked me to find a man who could follow Mister Janin to the diamond field and to have him report back to you whether the field was real or not! My brother was the only person I knew who could do such a thing!”
“You mean your lazy brother was unemployed and devious enough to follow the man and take care of the informants should the news not be in our favor!”
Ralston rushed to his mother and her maid. “Shut up! Both of you!” He turned to his mother. “Mother! What have you done?”
She glanced around at all the faces. “I was only looking out for your interests, honey. I knew you wanted to sell those devil’s shares before anyone discovered Arnold and Slack had tricked everyone. I only wanted to delay the news of the field being a fraud long enough so that you could make that transaction. So… so we didn’t lose everything your father worked so hard to build. I knew you had spent the majority of the bank account on this foolish investment. Our very livelihood depended on you re-selling them.” She collapsed back against the divan, burying her face in her hands, and sobbed.
Jocelyn leapt to her feet and rushed to Owen. “How did you know it was Millie and Mrs. Ralston?”
Owen grinned toward Williams. “No one here exhibited any surprise or confusion that Clarence King would be arriving. Millie was the only person we could not interview and it was Missus Ralston who suddenly took ill when we mentioned Mr. King was coming here. I took a chance and made the accusation, not really knowing for sure. My gamble paid off. We just got a full confession.”
Ralston stared at Owen. “Confession? What are you implying?”
Owen’s face softened. The man had no idea what his mother had arranged for his sake. “William, my man. I’m sorry to inform you your mother paid her maid to hire a man to follow your mining engineer to the suspect field. This man called himself J. F. Berry. When he found out the field was a fraud he hired three thugs to kill the geological team” —the men gasped— “before they could return to you and let you and your investors know of the hoax. My bride was the only survivor.”
“Mother!” Ralston fell at the widow’s knees, weeping on her lap. “Murder? How could you imagine this was better than losing money on a bad investment?” He turned to Owen. “Please, Owen, don’t put my mother in jail. She won’t survive!” He glared at Millie. “As for this one… do with her as you see fit.”
Millie turned to run, but Jocelyn caught her by the shoulders and held her in place. “That will be up to the sheriff, Mister Ralston.”
“Right you are.” Agent Williams slapped Owen on the back.
“So…” Charles Tiffany spoke for the first time. “Who is this?” He flipped his lacy handkerchief toward Agent Williams.
Owen smiled. “This is an associate of mine from the Pinkerton Agency, Ransom Williams. Jocelyn and I briefed him last night and my wife loaned him some of her father’s clothes. He looked the part, wouldn’t you say?”
The men nodded. None had suspected he was anyone other than who he said he was.
“Glad to lend a hand, ole man.” Ransom laughed. “I’ll secure myself a compartment on the first train returning to Denver. I don’t wish to be gone from my bride any longer than necessary. She is with child.”
Owen turned to Jocelyn. “Well, congratulations. We understand.” He said to Ransom, but his eyes remained on Jocelyn. “But could you do us all a favor and fetch the sheriff?”
“Of course.” Ransom left the room.
Owen turned to William Ralston. “Mister Ralston, I am assuming, so please verify, that you had no knowledge of your mother’s devious plans?”
Ralston looked at his mother, then to Owen and back again to the widow. “Mother? Is this true?”
She stared at her hands in her lap, chewing on her bottom lip. “I’m afraid it is.” She choked through tears.
“Oh Mother.” Ralston shook his head and pulled the widow into his arms. “I love you so much, but this is beyond my ability to fix.”
Just then the sheriff and two deputies entered the room.
Owen turned to the lawmen. “Gentlemen, I am Owen Latimer, a Pinkerton Agent. This is my wife and partner, Jocelyn Latimer. It seems our job here is done. These men are investors in a devious scam concocted by one Philip Arnold and John Slack.”
The sheriff nodded and glanced at his deputies. “Yeah. We are aware of those two’s suspected dealings with some raw diamonds.”
“Yes. Well these men here in this parlor were indeed fooled by those two. The diamond field where they claimed to have found their treasure is a hoax and, unfortunately, Mister Clarence King and his geological team were murdered before they could come to San Francisco to tell them of the fraud. It seems Mr. Ralston’s mother, in an effort to preserve her family’s wealth, had hired a reckless scoundrel to follow Mister Janin to the field.” Owen gestured toward Henry Janin. “But as it turned out, he had turned the task over to a group of geologists.
“When the maid’s brother” —Owen gestured toward Millie who struggled against Jocelyn’s hold— “discovered the field was a fraud, he hired three ruthless men to kill the team. What they did not realize was that my wife, Jocelyn King Latimer was a member of that team and knew as much about the fraudulent find as any of them.
“She escaped and came to the Pinkerton office for help. It seems every one of you” —Owen turned a reprimanding look toward the investors— “placed little confidence in a woman telling you that a field is found to be a fraud. She hired me to stand here before you and tell you the same thing. But in order to solve the murder, we had to discover who hired the bandits to stop the news from being returned to San Francisco. Unfortunately, it turns out, Widow Ralston initiated this crime and Millie, as an accomplice, and her brother are guilty of facilitating what ended in the murder of innocent men who did nothing more than the job they were commissioned to do.”
The sheriff rubbed his hand through his hair. “Well, I’m not gonna cotton to putting a widow in jail. Can I count on you abiding by a house arrest, Missus Ralston?”
The widow nodded.
“But we will need to take you into custody, Miss Millie.”
The maid sobbed as Jocelyn released her into the deputy’s hands. Jocelyn turned to Owen. “Can we go now?”
“Yes, my love. We are finished here.”
The sheriff stepped toward them. “Well, I’d like to get an affidavit from you Missus Latimer, seein’s how you witnessed the killings.”
Tears welled in Jocelyn’s eyes. “Of course, Sheriff.”
Taking Owen’s arm, she and he left the home. Jocelyn swallowed hard and said what was on her mind. “Before we talk to the sheriff and gather our things from the hotel, could we talk?”
“Yes. Where would you like to go?”
She looked around the residential street. “Perhaps a park bench?”
“Hmm.” Owen furrowed his brow. “Sounds serious.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Owen.” Jocelyn sat on the park bench, twisting her hands in her lap. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened in the hotel, before we went to this meeting.”
“Ah, yes, we should talk about that.” He looked as nervous as she felt.
“I realize you’re a man… and I’m a woman… and we have spent the last few days in one hotel room, even though we have not slept in the same bed…” She looked up into his eyes. He patiently waited for her to speak her mind. “And I realize we agreed to a marriage of convenience for the sake of this investigation, and my reputation—”
Owen took her into his arms and pressed his lips against hers. She fluttered her eyes closed and let him kiss her. Yes. This was what she wanted. But they were in public. She pulled back, breathing heavily. “So… you feel the same way?”
“I believe I do.” He smiled.
“And are you in agreement that… that we stay married.” She held her breath waiting for his answer.
He touched her hair, tucking a wisp into the rest. “I would very much like it if you would remain my wife.”
Jocelyn let out the air she’d been holding. “Oh, good.” She panted. “So, what do we do now?”
Again a mischievous smile creased his lips. She swatted him on the chest. “I mean about telling Mr. Gordon… and Marianne.”
“Oh.” He feigned surprise. “Well, we send Archie a wire and request time off to spend our honeymoon here in San Francisco… or wherever you like. And we mail our report to the Denver office so Archie can close the account. And… there’s one more thing I want to do.”
Jocelyn tilted her head. “What?”
“Where do you consider home?”
“Home? I… don’t know. I spent my life with my father and mother traveling around conducting that Fortieth Parallel Survey. We buried momma in Nevada when she died. Why?”
“I have something in mind… but it can wait until we get back to Denver. Are you planning to remain with the Pinkertons? As my wife, we can be partners until you are with child.”
Her eyes widened. “I’d love to stay on with the Pinkertons. Will Mister Gordon let me?”
“He’s let all the women who came before you, if they wanted to. I don’t know why he wouldn’t let you. Besides, with my recommendation, I think you’ll be a shoo-in.” Owen chuckled.
“Oh, Owen. I do love you!”
“I love you too, Jocelyn. Let’s go give the sheriff your statement and send Archie that wire, then let’s go to Willis’s jewelry store and buy you a proper wedding ring.”
Jocelyn gasped. “Let’s not make it a diamond ring!”
Owen laughed. “Whatever you want, my dear, Jocelyn.”
THE END… no wait!
EPILOGUE
“Are we ready?” Marianne stood with a bundle of flowers by the front door of the Pinkerton Mansion. Pearl and several other agents, including Ransom and Laurel Williams, lined up next to her. Jocelyn and Owen Latimer walked out of Archie’s office with Archie close behind them. Archie carried the same Bible with which he had married all his agents.
Marianne opened the door and they all filed outside and down Chain Bridge Road to the little cemetery next to a lovely white chapel. Judge Hotchkiss waited for them under some majestic ponderosa pines. Five caskets stood next to five graves. Jocelyn stood next to the first. She turned to Marianne and took a single flower, then placed it on her father’s casket. “Goodbye, Daddy.”
The others gathered around and Judge Hotchkiss began, “We are gathered here on this solemn occasion to lay to rest five good men who did an excellent job for our country. Surveying and recording uncharted land, their deaths were too soon for any of us, but perhaps it was part of the Good Lord’s plan all along. We shall know some day.”
Marianne hummed to establish the beginning note and they all sang a hymn. Archie stepped up, opened his Bible and read, “…Till thou returneth to the ground, For out of it thou were taken; For dust thou art, And to dust thou shall returneth.”
Jocelyn wiped her eyes while Owen held her close beside him. “I don’t know how you got my father’s remains and his men here to Denver for reburial, but thank you, Owen.”
“Being a Pinkerton Agent has its perks.” He lifted his eyes to Archie and smiled. “You needed closure. Just finding out who caused his death wasn’t enough. And they all deserved a more appropriate place to rest. This part of the cemetery is dedicated to such men and women. Plus, I thought you would appreciate a place to come visit when you miss him.”
“It’s all true.” She stepped away from Owen. “And this place is so lovely.” She turned to Archie who stood with his arm around Marianne. “Thank you, too.”
“It’s our pleasure.” Marianne smiled.
Jocelyn walked to her father’s casket. “I’ll come visit often, Daddy. Meanwhile be at peace. I’m a Pinkerton Agent now. Everything you taught me about finding geological treasures, I’m using to solve crimes now, and I’m married to a wonderful man. His name is Owen Latimer. And I think you would have really liked him.”
She stepped back as the cemetery workers gently lowered each casket into the grave. Jocelyn tossed a handful of dirt on each one. Owen tossed a handful on Clarence’s and gave the man a two-finger salute. “I promise to take good care of her, sir.”
Jocelyn sniffed and stood back. “Rest in peace, Daddy, and you, my friends. You all were like brothers to me.”
Owen took her back into his arms and squeezed her into his side. “When you’re ready, let’s go back to the mansion. Pearl has fixed a feast to celebrate their lives. And we all want to hear stories about your dad and those men.”
Jocelyn wiped her eyes and sniffed. “And I’ve got a lot of them.”
THE END (for real this time)
Note to Reader
Thank you for reading this Pinkerton Matchmaker story. I hope you enjoyed it.
Something interesting from my research: Phillip Arnold and John Slack were never prosecuted for fraud. (Did the laws not cover fraud back in 1872? Email me if you know. [email protected]) Arnold returned to his home in Elizabethtown, Kentucky and became a successful businessman and banker. Diamond-company investors sued him, and he settled the cases for an undisclosed sum. Years later he died of pneumonia after he was wounded in a shootout with a rival banker.
John Slack dropped from public view. He moved to St. Louis, where he owned a casket-making company. He later became a casket maker and undertaker in White Oaks, New Mexico, where he lived quietly and died in 1896 at the age of 76.
Truth is stranger than fiction, readers!
Our heroine, Jocelyn, used the term “scot free.” So of course I had to look into its origins and meaning and boy-howdy, did I get an eye full. From a black man named Dred Scott obtaining his freedom without making a payment, to Scottish folklore of tight-fisted practices. But the bottom line is this: “Scot” as a term for tax… the phrase “getting off scot free” simply refers to not paying one's taxes.
Ah, the things you learn when writing historical fiction.
About the Author

Lynn Donovan is an author, playwright, and director who spends her days chasing after her muses, trying to get them to behave long enough to write their stories. The results are numerous novels, multi-author series, anthologies, dramatizations, and short stories.
Lynn is a co-host on a local radio show, KRLN 1400, AM, called Write Time Radio where they air old-time-radio dramas, narrations and excerpts written by local writers, including herself. It’s her way of paying it forward for all those who helped her become a published author.
Lynn enjoys reading and writing all kinds of fiction, paranormal, speculative, contemporary romance, and time travel. But you never know what her muses will come up with for a story, so you could see a novel under any given genre. All that can be said is keep your eyes open, because these muses are not sitting still for long!
Oops, there they go again…

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Pinkerton Matchmaker Series
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~Lynn Donovan
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