She nodded. “I understand. Thank you again for agreeing to help me, Jo.” She came around the desk and hugged me fiercely. “It’s so good to see you again. It’s been far too long.”
I hugged back. I had so little left from my childhood; to be able to reclaim so important a piece of it was almost a miracle in itself.
“Think, Constance! Where were you when you saw it last?” Amy took the other’s hand in hers.
Constance caught her breath and made a visible effort to control herself. “Yes. I must think…”
Amy waited, knowing that pushing Constance for information wouldn’t help. The girl had been scatterbrained all her life. Still, they were best friends, and if she could make things better, she must.
“Patrick and I went to Malcolm Cavanaugh’s dinner party last Tuesday at Sutherland’s. I…remember I didn’t want to risk it being seen, so I slipped it off, and put it into my bag.”
“Did anyone else see it?”
“I’m not sure. I remember…Phineas Forrest was particularly attentive that evening.”
Amy frowned. Phineas Forrest—of all the people to be involved. She couldn’t abide that scoundrel!
-- Garrett Goldthwaite
Analytical Amy and the Case of the Covetous Cad
Chapter 5
I was in a brown study all the way back to the boarding house. Bridget’s problem was serious. I didn’t know a great deal about blackmail, but I did know that unless we stopped the perpetrator, she could well lose her position, which was obviously very important to her. Not to mention her reputation, which is something we women must hold on to at all costs! Especially women of the veil. A scandal would destroy everything she had worked so hard to obtain.
I hoped that Kevin Reilly could offer me some sound advice.
Roderick dropped me at Ma’s front door, and I hurried up to my room. I could do nothing more about Bridget until tomorrow. Tonight, I would lavish some much-needed affection on Priss.
“Baby girl, where are you?” I called, setting down my reticule on the table as I scanned the room for the cat. She usually came to greet me as soon as she heard the door open. She was behaving so oddly these days. I was a bit worried about her.
“Priss! Priss, where are you?” I peered under my bed, searching the shadows. “Come out, baby…” I was almost sure she was under the bed. I had searched the rest of the room, and she had been on my pillow this morning.
I rose to my feet. “Well, if you aren’t hungry, I am. I’m going to dinner.”
I headed for the kitchen. Ma’s cooking always made me feel better, no matter what was going on in my life.
“Have you seen Priss, Ma?” I asked, taking my accustomed place at the table. It was a bit late for dinner, so none of the other residents were in the room.
“She came out from under the bed when I took her some food this mornin’, Jo,” Ma answered, as she came to the table.
She set my plate before me, and then pulled out Alistair’s usual chair and sat down.
It startled me. I’d never seen Ma sit at the table.
“Jo, dear…” she said, placing a hand on my arm.
Now, I began to panic.
“What is it?” I asked, heart in my mouth.
“It’s about Priss.”
My heart raced, breath stuttering in my chest. Priss was my baby…
“What is it?” I squeaked.
“Have you noticed she’s put on a mite of weight lately?”
“Well, we do eat better here than we used to…”
“Luv, I think it’s a bit more than that. She’s been moody, even for her, hasn’t she? Hidin’ in the dark most o’ the time?”
“Yes.”
“From what I could tell this mornin’, I would expect you are goin’ to be a grandmother in a few days.”
“What?” I didn’t have any children, much less…
Oh.
“Priss is…?”
“Goin’ to be havin’ kittens before the end o’ the week, I would say.”
Oh my. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. My poor baby… She had been my only friend for two lonely years. I had poured my heart out to her more times than I could count. What had she gone and done?
There was a knock at the front door, and I started up to answer it.
“Finish your dinner,” Ma ordered, pushing away from the table, “I’ll get it. When I get back, I’ll give you a little bowl of milk to take to her when you head up for bed.”
“That would be lovely, Ma,” I answered gratefully, tucking into another fine meal. She was the best cook I had ever known.
Ma came back with a frown on her face, and a telegram in her hand. “Jo, dear. This came for you from Ohio.”
“Thanks, Ma. Probably just a message with Alistair’s new address. It’s been a long day. I’ll take it up and read it in my room.”
“It will be good to have the perfessor home again, won’t it? And Miss Bond comin’ to take that little room across the hall from you should make thin’s more lively for you.”
“True. I had almost forgotten about that.”
In the excitement of reconnecting with Bridget, I actually had forgotten that Fred was going to stay in New York when they arrived from Ohio. Another room had come available across the hall from me, and Ma had readied it for Fred.
“It will be just wonderful,” I said. “Quite like a real family, with all of us close. I am so glad you had that room to give her.”
“It seems like the Good Lord’s plan, don’t it?”
I accepted the bowl of milk she handed me and headed up the stairs for an early night as soon as I had finished clearing my plate. The yawn that split my jaw halfway up to my room told me my instincts were sound.
“Priss,” I called softly, easing open the door. “I brought you something.”
There was a tiny mew, and she poked her head out from under the bed. I hunkered down and set the bowl on the floor.
“Milk, baby.”
She slunk over to the bowl and began to lap it up. Now that I was looking for the signs, I could see she was waddling more than walking, and her belly nearly dragged the floor. If I looked closely, I could see her sides rippling in most unusual ways.
I thumped down to sit on the floor.
“Come here, Priss,” I cajoled, holding out my arms to her.
She pirruped and came over to climb onto my lap. She rubbed her head against my hand.
I felt her sides—it was incredible. I could actually feel movement beneath my fingers.
“How did this happen, little one?” Not that I really expected an answer.
There had been a couple of escapes, one entire evening spent outside that I could recall. I suppose one of those incidents must have led to…well, it was behavior I could guess at if not remember from personal experience.
I patted Priss on her head.
“Well, we will have to make sure you don’t get out again after this. I hope you will have learned your lesson, Miss. Still, it’ll make Aunt Emily happy to have a kitten.” And Catherine Caswell might like one…I wondered how many kittens were usual in a litter. This was new territory for the both of us.
“Let’s get some sleep, sweetheart.”
I dressed for bed. It was to be hoped that tomorrow would have fewer surprises. On the other hand, I hadn’t had time to miss Alistair and the others much today. Maybe a few distractions were good for me.
Before I climbed into my bed, I opened the envelope with the telegram. The message inside was brief:
Professor Conn checked out two days ago.
My heart skipped a beat. What in Heaven’s name had become of him?
After Amy had soothed Constance back to a state of calm, she bade the other goodbye and brewed herself a nice cup of tea. She considered the information that Constance had imparted. It was a difficult case, indeed.
Up until now, all she had to deal with were small indiscretions and lost pets. But this had the potential to destroy Cons
tance’s relationship and reputation both. She would be cast out of society.
That wasn’t going to happen if there was anything that Amy could do about it.
She stepped to her safe and checked the status of her revolver. It could do with a bit of cleaning. You never knew when a gun might come in handy.
-- Garrett Goldthwaite
Analytical Amy and the Case of the Covetous Cad
Chapter 6
After a mostly sleepless night, I dressed in the sturdy two-piece walking costume of blue serge I considered my “professional” suit. It had been purchased soon after the wreck of the Pearl so that I would have something smart enough to be taken seriously as Alistair’s assistant, and it seemed to fit the bill for today. Then I hailed a hansom at the corner; I didn’t want to take advantage of Aunt Emily’s good nature any more than necessary.
My first stop was the telegraph office. I sent another wire to the Continental Hotel, asking for more details. I found it impossible to believe Alistair would leave the hotel and not tell me where he was going. After all, I was his assistant, and I might need to contact him regarding matters for the university. At least, that was what I told myself. I hoped he would keep me apprised of his whereabouts for other reasons…but I was absolutely sure he wouldn’t simply disappear without warning.
It was agony waiting until the reply arrived. I nearly paced a hole in the floor while I waited for the answer. It was well over an hour before the response came over the wire—and the clerk handed it to me with an audible sigh of relief. I was sure he would be pleased to see me gone.
The message in the telegram was not good:
Conn checked out Saturday evening.
Desk clerk described him as blond, 5’8”.
No forwarding address.
That was definitely not Alistair. Had the miscreants on Blessant’s payroll thought they could mask his disappearance from me simply by pretending he had checked out of the hotel? What fools!
Now, what was I going to do about it? On the off-chance there was nothing wrong, Alistair would be very cross with me for rushing off to rescue him and abandoning his work. Besides, I had no time to go to Ohio. I had far too much to do here in New York sorting out Bridget’s difficulties—and there was Priss to consider. Alistair wouldn’t want me to abandon her. He was quite fond of the cat, and she of him.
I had no doubt Blessant was behind this somehow. Especially if Alistair was the only thing standing between him and prison.
I set part of my mind to the problem while continuing the errands I had to complete for the day. I was perfectly capable of cogitating on more than one thing at a time. There was no use ignoring everything else that must be done when I couldn’t do anything for Alistair at the moment.
It took me three stops to find a stationer who sold the new typewriting machines. It was certainly a good thing Alistair did pay me well, because it cost over one hundred dollars! That was most of what I had saved, but I resolved to get it back from him at the earliest opportunity. After all, the machine would be very useful for organizing his notes.
Luckily, the same establishment also carried magnifying glasses at a much more reasonable price, and I tucked that new acquisition into my reticule. It would prove handy on many occasions, I was sure.
I dismounted the cab at the precinct house with the typing machine cradled against my chest. It was very heavy, but I had no choice but to lug it around—if I went home first, I was unlikely to come back. I hated coming to the police station. It felt like I was a criminal, even though I never was.
Well, there had been that one warrant…but it was a false accusation, as I had explained to Leonora.
Still, I trusted Inspector Kevin Reilly. If there was one honest officer on the New York City police force, it was he. With a final deep breath, I mounted the steps and entered the building.
I marched up to the desk sergeant—all right, now that I knew he was Bridget’s uncle, I suppose I must give him the benefit of being the second honest officer on the force—because I knew it was expected.
Sergeant Doyle glanced up from his ever-present paperwork, bushy gray brows bunching above a walrus mustache of the same sleety color. His blue eyes held not a spark of Bridget’s warmth. He frowned upon recognizing me, and then sat back with a grunt.
“It’s you again, is it?”
“I have come to see Inspector Reilly.”
“For what purpose?”
I lifted my chin.
“What business is it of yours?” He might be Bridget’s uncle, but he was still thoroughly unpleasant to deal with.
The sergeant sighed heavily, shaking his head.
“It’s me job. I don’t have many duties. Leave me the ones I’ve got. Fill out one of them papers,” he ordered with weary patience, pointing at the stack of forms that were omnipresent on the edge of his desk.
“That won’t be necessary, Sergeant Doyle,” came a cool voice behind me. “I’ll take it from here.”
My heart lifted, and I whirled to find Kevin Reilly standing there.
“You do have a habit of sneaking up on a person, don’t you?” I asked, matching his tone. I wasn’t about to let him know how glad I was to see him.
“You wished to see me, Miss Mann?”
“Yes, Inspector. It is a matter of most urgency requiring complete discretion. Well, two matters, actually…”
“I suppose we should adjourn to my office then,” he murmured with a wry smile. “Come.”
He placed a hand in the small of my back and turned me toward the stairs. I felt a mite distracted. He was a most attractive man, of a height with Alistair— and a bit handsomer, if truth be told. His sandy hair was cut military short, with a tinge of red in the highlights. His eyes were as green as my own, and he had the loveliest smile…
But he was not Alistair. I must remember my purpose and not be put off from it.
He stepped into his office and gestured to a visitor’s chair.
“What is it that brings you to my office, Miss Mann?”
“I need your advice, Inspector,” I told him, placing my typewriter on the other visitor’s chair and reaching into my reticule for Bridget’s letters. “First of all, an acquaintance of mine has received these missives.”
I laid them out on the desk before me. Inspector Reilly moved behind the desk, glancing at the papers. Then, with a frown, he bent to study them more closely.
“These weren’t addressed to you, were they?”
“Of course not!” I answered hotly. “How could you even think that of me?”
“Calm down—I have to ask. It is my duty.” He held up a hand to placate me. “Is there any truth to the allegations?” He sat down behind the desk.
I bristled further, then remembered that he did not know the recipient—and it was not my place to reveal her name, even if her uncle was a colleague of his.
“Of course not! I can assure you, she is a most virtuous lady.”
“I will take your word for that. So…what do you wish me to do?”
“How can we discover who sent the letters? What should our first step be?”
“Well, there is no indication at all as to who sent them. Without such information…” He shrugged. “I’m sure we haven’t seen the end of these. Your friend…” He emphasized the word in a way that raised my eyebrow.
My Irish temper tried to ignite, but I forced it down with a deep breath.
“I repeat,” I said, in my iciest tone. “These letters were not sent to me, Inspector Reilly.”
“As you say,” he replied, holding up his hand once more. “Your friend should expect another letter within a day or two. Since each letter has escalated the situation, I would surmise that the writer will reveal himself, or herself, in that missive. My best advice is to let the police handle this. This is a dangerous business. I’ll take over the investigation from here.”
“I can’t let you do that. I promised her I wouldn’t reveal any more details than are found in the le
tters.”
“This is ridiculous, Miss Mann…Josephine.” He rose to his feet, placing both hands on the desk and leaning toward me. “Blackmail is nothing for amateurs to meddle in. You could be hurt—or worse.”
I was flattered he was worried about me, but I was also confident I didn’t need his concern.
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“You have no idea what you are doing. Anyone who would resort to threats such as these wouldn’t hesitate for a moment before removing an obstacle to their purpose.”
“I will keep that in mind,” I replied, vowing to be careful as I folded up the letters and replaced them in my reticule. “But what can I do to salvage this situation? There must be a way to stop this fiend.”
He sighed. “In most cases of blackmail, the blackmailer is out for something specific. We know that he wants this ‘den of iniquity,’ whatever or wherever that is.”
I stared at him. “You aren’t taking this a bit seriously, are you?”
He had the grace to flush.
“Of course I am.”
“If you were, you would see that it says ‘the orphanage’ right there!” I pointed to the specific passage. “Children, Inspector. Children are this man’s target.”
“I see that now. So, the blackmailer wants the deed to this orphanage.”
“Yes.”
“If your friend gives it to him, he may go on about his business, but in my experience, that is rarely the case. The blackmailer usually wants to make sure the victim doesn’t change their mind and come to the police after their transactions are finished. Usually, that means disposing of said victims…and anyone else who might know their identities. In this case, you.”
“Well, I don’t know anything more than you do—except the name of my friend—so disposing of me wouldn’t do him, or her, any good.”
The Nearly Notorious Nun Page 4