He shouldered the trunk with a melodramatic sigh and began lugging it up the stairs. I followed, curious as to what might be in it. It was obviously heavy.
With a grunt, he set it down just inside my bedroom door. I moved around him to my reticule on the table and withdrew a bill.
“Thank you, sir.”
As he took the bill from my hand, his face lit with a huge smile, and he tipped his cap. It was a pleasant smile—and the first good humor I had seen from the man.
“Most appreciated, ma’am.” He still couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.
Ma came upstairs as soon as the door closed behind him.
“What’s in the box, Jo?”
“I was just about to find out.” I circled the trunk, looking for a label or something that could give me a clue about its origin. “There’s no card…”
I knelt beside it and opened the lid. The interior was filled with bright fabrics and lace. Here, also, was the card I had been looking for. I pulled it out of the envelope and read it aloud.
Dear Josephine,
I could not help but notice that my niece’s dresses did not fit you as well as they might. I took the liberty of having my seamstress alter a few things for you. I hope you will forgive the foolishness of a fond mother who wishes to please her son and his…assistant.
Leonora Conn
“Well, what d’you know about that!” Ma said, sinking down on the bed. “Let’s see what she sent you, Jo.”
I begrudged the time, but it wasn’t as if I could go and rescue Alistair in broad daylight. Besides, perhaps one of these garments would be good for infiltrating the warehouse…
The next half-hour was spent in studying the contents of the trunk. Every dress was more beautiful than the last, and several might do for my evening’s adventures. I hung each one in the wardrobe after examining it.
“I really shouldn’t accept these,” I sighed, as I put the final garment in the closet. I ran a hand along the lovely fabrics.
“Whyever not, dear? Mrs. Conn can afford to spend a few dollars if she pleases. These thin’s aren’t new. As she says, she had them altered. They won’t be any use to her now.”
My heart lifted. They really were lovely things. If Ma said it was all right to keep them…
“Let’s see how they look.”
I reached for the first hanger. After all, it was still too early to go sneaking around the warehouse; one could hardly spy in broad daylight—all the dime novels testified to that truth.
~*~
With Bridget’s spare habit, freshly washed at Ma’s insistence, draped over one arm, and wearing one of my new frocks in a dark blue that should blend with the shadows at the warehouse, I set off for the convent again in Aunt Emily’s carriage just as the sun began to set. I didn’t expect to be long at the convent, so I left it as late as I could—besides, there was no reason to miss another of Ma’s meals.
Instead of riding inside the conveyance this time, I sat beside Roderick on the driver’s seat. As we traveled, I filled him in on my suspicions about Alistair’s location.
“I’ll help you in any way I can, Miss Jo,” he said grimly.
“I have a pistol,” I replied, pulling it out of my reticule.
“I don’t need a pistol.” He reached under the seat and pulled out a shillelagh. The club was a thick oak stave. It would do a considerable amount of damage in the right hands—and I was quite sure Roderick’s were suitable for the task.
I hated having to stop by the orphanage first, but I really needed to tell Bridget what I had learned before I went to the warehouse. If the worst happened, at least she would know the name of the blackmailer. Perhaps she had heard of this Clarence Smythe. He acted as if his name were well known, and so had Captain Caldicott, but it had struck no chords with me.
Unfortunately, when I handed back her clothing, she was as much at a loss as I was.
“No, I can’t say that the name is familiar, Jo. I just can’t fathom any of this. Why would he think he could pressure me into something that anyone with any sense would know is impossible? I don’t own the convent. I am merely caretaker of this land.”
“That’s exactly what I told him.”
“Good.”
“It doesn’t help us figure out what his game is…or who exactly he is.”
I wracked my brains. There was one place where we might get some answers. I wasn’t particularly pleased by the idea, but there was nothing for it.
“I’ll go to the newspaper office tomorrow and check through the archives. Perhaps I can find some mention of his name there. At any rate, it’s a way to move forward.”
“What a clever idea, Jo! You were always the one with the brains.”
I hoped she was right. Not too long from now, I was going to do something most decidedly not clever.
After a few more moments of banal chit-chat, Amy made a show of collecting her things. “I must be going now. I have a dressmaker’s appointment in half-an-hour.” She held out her hand for the broach.
Phineas’s face was crestfallen as he reluctantly placed it on her palm. “A treasure such as this one should be kept under lock and key, my dear. I would be happy to place it in my safe for you…”
She waved off the offer. “No need. I’ll put it with my other trinkets when I get home.”
-- Garrett Goldthwaite
Analytical Amy and the Case of the Covetous Cad
Chapter 10
Once I had told Bridget the latest information, Roderick and I made our way downtown looking for the warehouse. I had only a vague recollection of where it might be. After all, we had been taken to it in a closed carriage, and, upon our escape, had run blindly through the streets, following Phaeton’s directions.
How I wished the automaton were here. He would be invaluable in so many ways…
We parked the carriage in an alley and moved street to street looking for the building. As we passed a recessed doorway, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. A year ago—even six months ago—I would have screamed. Now, that weight felt familiar.
I whirled.
“How did you get here?” I cried, throwing my arms around Phaeton. “I thought you were in Ohio?” I looked up into his face, towering well over my head. The sculpted features gleamed in the moonlight. Sometimes I forgot he was made of metal, he was so expressive in his voice and manner.
“I was, until two men broke into Master Alistair’s room at the hotel and carried him away.”
“How did they miss seeing you?”
“I was in the water closet.”
I was stunned. “Why were you in the water closet?”
“There was very little room, so I stood in there to be out of the way.”
That made some kind of sense.
“How did you wind up here?”
“It was logical that they would take Master Alistair somewhere far away from the trial. I deduced from their accents as they spoke to one another that they were from New York City. I followed as quickly as possible.”
“How did you follow?” I asked, noting by the dim light available from the nearest streetlamp that he was filthy, and a bit battered.
“I ran.”
The answer took me aback. Even for Phaeton, that was quite a feat.
“When I reached New York, I began searching through the warehouse district checking the buildings one by one. There was no time to contact you, Mistress Jo,” he continued, anticipating my next inquiry. “If I wished to rescue Master Alistair, there was no time to spare. Tonight, it occurred to me to return to the building where I first came to my senses, as it was the property of Paul Blessant. I was just about to enter the warehouse when I saw you pass by. It is just over there.”
He pointed to a building across the street and two doors down.
“Well, I am very glad you did. I was just wishing you were here.”
“It is good to see you as well.”
“This will make things simpler, Miss Jo,” Roderic
k murmured. “You wait here, and Phaeton and I will go inside. I’ll take the front. Phaeton, you go to the back.”
With a solemn tilt of his head, Phaeton clumped off toward the building he had indicated and then turned.
“How will I know to go inside?”
“When you hear me throw open the door, come in.”
“Yes.” He continued toward his position.
As Roderick turned to go, I grabbed his arm.
“I want to help, Roderick!” I protested.
“Master Alistair would have my head if anything happened to you.”
“Please, Roderick…”
He sighed.
“Come here.” He led me to a spot to one side of the door Phaeton had indicated. “Now, stay outside until I call for you to come in,” he whispered. “When it’s safe, I’ll let you know.”
I pulled the pepper-pot from my reticule and nodded.
“And don’t shoot me…or yourself.”
He positioned himself directly in front of the door, took a deep breath, and kicked it in.
The next few minutes were a bit confusing. I dithered back and forth about following Roderick’s instructions and rushing into the fray. My heart was pounding like a steam-piston. If anything happened to Alistair, I would be absolutely devastated.
I couldn’t see what was happening, only hear a bunch of shouting and clattering. Finally, I could stand it no longer, and burst through the smashed door, pistol held before me in both hands to steady it. I was taking no chances on accidentally shooting someone I didn’t intend to.
There were flurries of movement in several directions. I saw Roderick in the center of a group of circling thugs, spinning to keep an eye on them all. Phaeton held a struggling bully boy in each hand, and as I watched, he thumped their heads together and dropped them to the floor, unconscious. Alistair took a pugilistic swing at an approaching brigand and was clubbed from behind by another. He also dropped like a rock. My heart froze painfully before stuttering on.
Taking a deep breath—if it was good enough for Roderick, it was good enough for me—I aimed the pepper-pot at the ceiling directly above the fray and pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, as I said, I was carrying it with an empty chamber under the trigger, and all that resulted was a most anti-climactic click. I rotated the cylinder and tried again.
This time, there was a deafening roar like to shatter my eardrums, but at least the activity froze—what little of it was left. In the seconds I had been distracted, things seemed to have been taken well in hand.
The scene that met my eye was a familiar one—Phaeton standing over a pile of moaning, writhing bodies, and Alistair slumped semi-conscious in a chair. Roderick was systematically going through the warehouse making sure all the hoodlums were accounted for.
I was a trifle irritated that I hadn’t had more to do with the actual rescue. On the other hand, it had been my plan, and—apparently—it had gone perfectly.
I ran to Alistair’s side.
“Are you all right?” I asked him breathlessly, running hand and eye over his frame to make sure there was no obvious damage. He winced when I examined the back of his head, but there was no blood. It must have been a glancing blow. Thank goodness for that!
He blinked up at me owlishly.
“What are you doing here, Jo?”
“Rescuing you, of course.”
His eyebrow cocked. “I see…”
“Really, Alistair!” I protested, a bit irritated at his obvious amusement. “It was my idea. The police were absolutely useless.”
“You went to the police?”
“Of course. But they virtually laughed in my face. Kevin was willing to try to help, but his supervisor—”
Alistair held up a hand with a weary, and obviously painful, shake of his head.
“Not now, Jo. Not now. I must get back to Ohio as soon as possible. If I am not there to testify—”
“—the case will fall apart. I know, I know.” I pointed to one of the unconscious thugs at his feet…well, Phaeton’s feet. “That fellow there told me so when he accosted me on the street.”
“You were accosted on the street?” Alistair surged to his feet and caught me up in a most emotionally-satisfying embrace.
I made sure my finger was nowhere near the trigger.
“I’m perfectly fine, Alistair,” I responded—reluctantly, if truth be told.
His face was a study in conflicting emotions. Obviously, he wished to return to Ohio and settle Paul Blessant once and for all; but I flatter myself there was more than a tinge of worry for my safety coloring his thought processes.
“Of course you must go back to Ohio,” I said, encouraging him to make the correct choice. “There is a train leaving in an hour. Here’s your ticket.”
I handed him the item in question, which I’d had the foresight—after Ma suggested it—to procure on our way downtown.
“But—”
“Truly. Having you sorted will make my life ever so much easier.”
“Jo, if you are in trouble—”
“We are looking out for her, Master Alistair,” Roderick assured him, placing a calloused hand on my shoulder. “She is safe as a new chick at the boarding house, and I will personally make sure that she don’t go wandering off alone until you get home again.”
“I will stay with Mistress Jo,” Phaeton offered. “It was made clear that my services are not required for the trial, and I am already here. It would be illogical to return to Ohio for no purpose.”
Alistair’s face cleared a bit.
“That does make sense,” he said with a sigh. Then he turned back to me, grabbed my arms, and gave me a bit of a shake. “Promise me you won’t do anything foolishly dangerous, Josephine Mann!”
“Of course, Alistair,” I replied demurely, my fingers firmly crossed behind me.
“I have set the hook, Constance. Now to see if the fish bites.”
“Do be careful, Amy, dear. The man is a snake!”
“Indeed. From the way he eyed my ‘great-aunt’s’ broach, I have little doubt he is a complete cad. I wish I could get a look into that safe he claims to have.”
“I might be able to help with that.”
-- Garrett Goldthwaite
Analytical Amy and the Case of the Covetous Cad
Chapter 11
We saw Alistair safely off on the train to Ohio, and then Roderick drove me back to the boarding house, Phaeton running along beside. It wasn’t until we were halfway home that I realized I hadn’t mentioned to Alistair that his mother was in the city. Ah well, he’d be returning again soon enough, and I would be sure to let him know.
I thought my jaw would crack from the yawns that plagued me on the way home, but once in bed, I slept soundly for the first time in days. Seeing Alistair was a balm for my soul…
Oh, my! That sounds a bit silly, even for me.
It was good to see that he was well, though, despite the bashing on the head, and to know he would soon be home for good. Or at least until the next adventure.
I will admit, having Phaeton return to his quarters in the basement storeroom did ease my mind nearly as much. He would never let any harm come to us—I had extended his orders to encompass the entirety of Ma’s lodgers.
The night passed with vague dreams of white picket fences and redheaded children wearing spectacles. I really wasn’t sure if I was their mother or their nanny, but we all got on well enough. I seem to recall some sort of danger involved, but it didn’t make a lasting impression. I awoke refreshed, and determined to carry out the next stage of the investigation.
I didn’t relish the idea of going to the newspaper office to check the archives for information. The last time I had been there, it hadn’t gone well. Granted, if I hadn’t gone there, I wouldn't have met Alistair, so there was that.
And I might be able to avoid the editor-in-chief Mr. Greenstreet altogether. There didn’t need to be a confrontation with the editor just to look through some dusty files,
did there?
I remembered well my first encounter with the “odious little toad,” as I have so unkindly styled him elsewhere. Well, he is short, round, and slightly bulbous about the eyes. I certainly didn’t wish to tangle with him again under the present circumstances.
I worried the notion in my head all the way to the newspaper building, Phaeton walking beside me. I had convinced Roderick I didn’t need both of them, and I wanted the fresh air to blow away the cobwebs from the previous evening.
In hopes I was right in my conclusion regarding Mr. Greenstreet, I did not present myself at the front door to the newspaper offices, but instead skirted the building, looking for another entrance. There was a recessed doorway down a half-flight of steps in the rear of the establishment. I twisted the knob, and the door opened into a dark hallway with the tinkle of a small bell. The air was musty with the smells of dust and old newsprint, and a sharper smell that reminded me of the Herbert’s warehouse and Alistair’s lab.
“Wait here,” I told Phaeton. The doorway was shadowed and not visible from the street. He would be safe here, and I wouldn’t have to take the time to explain him to the curious.
He nodded obediently, and I stepped into the dimness of the hallway with a strong sense of déjà vu.
“Hello?” I called. The moment reminded me powerfully of the first time I’d entered Alistair’s laboratory. The day I had first encountered Phaeton. “Is anyone here?”
I heard the sound of shuffling steps, and my heart skipped a beat. Of course, I knew there was nothing to fear in broad daylight in a newspaper building, for heaven’s sake, and there had to be someone present, else why would the door be unlocked? Still, it was a bit startling.
“May I help you, young lady?” asked a creaky voice, so blurred by age I couldn’t readily tell if it was male or female.
I glanced around for the speaker. A stooped figure emerged from the shadows, skirt trailing in the dust—female then. She wore an apron and curious half sleeves on her arms.
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