Orme transferred his reptile-cool gaze from Christine to Griffin. “Yes. As did Mr. Stotz’s. However, I assure you, there is no cause for concern. As the operator, my duty is to keep this mine running, a task I intend to fulfill. Mr. Manning and his detectives have the workers in hand. They chase away anyone who even looks sympathetic to unions, before they can get any farther than the depot.”
“And what about the stone which was found?” I asked.
“Some Indian trinket,” Orme replied. “Such things are common enough. Nothing to get worked up about.”
I knew better, but doubted I could convince him. “And what of the, er, strange happenings?”
Elliot Manning shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. “Miners are a superstitious lot,” he said. “You’d be appalled if you knew all their little rituals to ensure good luck, or ward off injury and the like. They’re convinced any rockfall or accident must be caused by ghosts, or spirits, or some other rubbish. If a lad disappears, he must have been snatched by devils, instead of gone to look for a better life away from the mine. A dog growls, there must be bogies in the woods. A band of outlaws escape the sheriff’s half-trained men, they must have been dragged beneath the earth by monsters. It’s all nonsense.”
“I see.” Clearly, neither man was inclined to treat the matter with any seriousness. “Still, as my father wished me to make an investigation, we will remain to enjoy your town for a few days.”
“Of course,” Orme said, although he didn’t look happy about it. Perhaps he simply didn’t care for the oversight. “I’ll have Fredericks take you to your hotel.”
Clearly, we had been dismissed. Manning walked us back onto the porch. “Even though you’re on a wasted trip, it’s good to see you again,” he told Griffin, extending his hand.
Griffin stared at the neatly manicured hand for a moment then shook it. “And you,” he said.
“Dr. Putnam. Dr. Whyborne. It was a pleasure.” Manning gave us a little bow. “I hope we’ll have the chance to get better acquainted before you leave.”
I retreated into the carriage after Griffin and Christine. As we pulled away, I looked back. Manning stood in the road, watching us depart with a troubled expression on his face.
Chapter 5
The porter shut the door as he left, and I sank down into the single chair of my hotel room. The place seemed decent enough; the clerk who’d greeted us had immediately summoned the hotelkeeper himself, Mr. Brumfield. He assured me I would find my stay satisfactory, even if his little hotel wasn’t up to the sort of accommodations to which I was accustomed. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him I’d never stayed in a hotel of any sort before, let alone one of the grand resorts he no doubt imagined.
The little room was quite spare, with only a bed, chair, wardrobe, and washstand. Brumfield had given me a corner room on the fourth floor, assuring me this would allow me to have two windows instead of only one, and thus be able to take full advantage of the breeze if the night proved warm. It also meant only a single wall adjoined another room.
As if summoned by my thoughts, there came a sharp knock on the connecting door. As soon as I slid back the bolt, it swung open. Griffin, now sans coat and tie, stepped through to take me in his arms.
“I’ve been wanting to do this all afternoon,” he murmured against my lips. His hands strayed, one shaping my back, the other sliding between us.
“There’s no time,” I whispered, unsure how thick the walls might be. “Not if we’re to wash up and dress for dinner. Mr. Brumfield said it is served promptly at seven-thirty.”
Griffin abandoned his attentions and stared off to one side, frowning slightly. “I wonder why Orme didn’t extend a dinner invitation to you. Since your father owns an interest in the company which employs him, courting your favor would seem to be in his best interest.”
“Do you think he might know more about the situation than he let on?”
“He’s hiding something,” Griffin said with certainty. “What, I don’t know. It could be as innocent as removing a bit more than his share of the profits before he sends them on to the company.”
I doubted Father would consider such an activity “innocent.” Deserving of a hanging, perhaps. But I hadn’t come here to worry about such things, and frankly, given Father’s dubious actions with the Brotherhood, I hardly thought him in the position to judge anyone. “Would your…friend…Mr. Manning know?” I asked reluctantly.
“I don’t know if I would call us friends. Not any more.”
“You had a falling out of some sort?” I hoped the question sounded casual. I had never enquired into Griffin’s past lovers, save for one occasion, but I cringed at the thought of being compared with the Adonis-like detective.
Griffin let go of me and stepped away, putting some space between us. “Not exactly. I met Elliot soon after I arrived in Chicago. I owe him a great deal.”
“I see. And were you two…?” Please let him say no.
“Yes.”
Drat. I sank down onto the edge of the bed and tried to keep my face composed. I couldn’t possibly measure up to the handsome Manning. Having the opportunity now to compare us side by side, so to speak, Griffin would surely come to his senses. “Oh,” I said miserably. A thought occurred to me, which would certainly explain the odd tension between the two men. “I suppose he knew about your, er, confinement?”
Griffin sat on the bed beside me. His career with the Pinkertons had ended in horror and death, compounded with the further agony of being confined to a madhouse, thanks to the unbelievable nature of his tale.
He hadn’t been mad, of course. The monsters were real, even if most people didn’t know it.
“Everyone knew,” Griffin replied. His fingers twined with mine. “And no doubt he’s told Orme by now. If Orme thinks me a lunatic and you a gullible dupe, we will need very strong proof, indeed, to convince them something is amiss here. No doubt either Elliot or Orme, or both of them, will try to warn you off me.”
“I will have words for them if they do,” I vowed.
“No.” His grip tightened, and he finally looked me directly in the eye. “That may not be the wisest course. If they seem likely to open up to you, do not hesitate to express your shock, and to thank them effusively for the warning.”
“But it seems faithless, to pretend I think you a madman.”
A smile bloomed on his lips, dismissing the shadows from his eyes. “I know, my dear. Don’t concern yourself. As long as you don’t actually change your opinion of me, I shan’t worry.”
“I love you, Griffin.”
“I love you, Ival.” He kissed me, and his hands went to the buttons on my trousers, and I decided the world would not end if we were a little late for dinner.
~ * ~
After dinner, Christine retired to one of the private parlors with the stated intent of “getting some work done on the blasted manuscript.” After bidding her goodnight, Griffin turned to me with a twinkle in his eye.
“Would you care to accompany me to the hotel bar?”
“Why on earth would I do such a thing?” I asked. Truthfully, I’d only been in such an establishment once before, with disastrous results.
“Because Orme isn’t going to give us any useful information—at least, not willingly—and I’m not certain Elliot will go against his employer without compelling reason. Our only remaining avenue is to talk to the locals. As we came in, I noticed an outside entrance to the bar, which means it probably serves as the saloon for the whole town, not just hotel guests. This could be our best chance to find out what—if anything—is amiss in Threshold.”
“I see. Will I, er, have to speak to anyone?” I disliked chatting with strangers, one of the reasons I avoided restaurants, saloons, and clubs. “Or play cards?”
Griffin chuckled. “Actually, I forbid you to play cards. We want these men well-disposed to us, not ready to dispense a beating because you’ve taken their day’s wages. Let me do the talking—I have some experien
ce at this.”
“Then why must I come at all?” I sounded churlish even to myself.
“Besides giving me the pleasure of your company, not to mention whatever insights you might have?” he asked.
Like an idiot, I blushed—but I also knew a thing or two about how his mind worked by now, at least enough to be certain he had an ulterior motive. “Yes, besides those.”
“The unions haven’t yet made inroads in the West Virginia coalfields, but not for lack of effort. If Orme has responded to the workers’ fears with as much derision as he showed when speaking to us, the situation between miners and management could be very tense indeed. Their instinct will be to distrust us. If they see you’re sincere, they’ll be more inclined to cooperate with our investigation.”
“So I will have to speak with them.”
“And drink some. Just look earnest and nod your head.”
I sighed, but this was why we’d come in the first place. And even if it hadn’t been, Griffin had a way of getting me to agree to whatever scheme he had in mind. I’d like to think it was purely a matter of sympathy between us, but in truth it probably had more to do with his devilish grin and flashing eyes. “Oh, very well.”
“I knew you’d see it my way.”
The hotel bar was located to one side of the lobby, well away from the private sitting rooms. A haze of smoke greeted us as we stepped inside, and I managed not to wrinkle my nose at the numerous spittoons, not wishing to give what Griffin would consider the wrong impression to the men within.
A few customers looked to be clerks or businessmen, but I had no doubt the majority worked the mine in one capacity or another. Although most of them had made an effort to clean up, I noticed coal dust ground beneath their nails and in the seams of their faces. Their clothing was of a rougher quality, often patched and mended, showing stains at cuff or collar. In the summer heat, many of them had casually stripped off their suit coats and sat about in vests and shirtsleeves. I did my best not to look shocked, but this was a public place.
I wouldn’t think of doing such a thing even at home, of course, although Griffin had no such inhibitions.
The clientele wasn’t strictly male, although going by the manner of dress of the few women present, they were there in a professional capacity. I removed my hat automatically when one passed by, and received a look of surprise for the simple courtesy.
Our entry garnered the attention of others besides the prostitute. Conversation near us died down, and I felt hostile eyes fix on me. I hunched my shoulders automatically, trying to make myself shorter and more inconspicuous, although it worked no better than it ever had. Why did I have to be tall?
Seeming at ease, Griffin led the way across the room to an empty table in a corner. “Have a seat, Whyborne. I’ll be right back with some whiskey.” Removing his coat, he hung it neatly over the back of his chair, before making his way to the bar. I tried very hard not to watch his trim form.
I sat very still, feeling like a hunted thing, painfully conscious of other eyes on me. When someone slid into the chair beside me, I started rather badly, but it proved only to be the woman I’d taken my hat off to earlier.
“I ain’t seen you around these parts before,” she said, leaning over to display her plentiful charms. “My name’s Lucy.”
Where the devil had Griffin gone? I cast about for rescue, found none forthcoming, and fell back on manners. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss, er, Lucy.” What on earth should I say? “P-Permit me to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Percival Endicott Whyborne.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? They was saying you’re the railroad tycoon’s son, but I didn’t believe it. Ain’t you just a huckleberry above a persimmon! Nothing like the men around here.”
She kept leaning farther and farther forward, and I became concerned her bodice wasn’t up to the task of containing her bounty. I kept my eyes fixed firmly on her face and silently prayed the dressmaker had known her art. “Yes! Well, that’s, er, very kind of you, m-miss.”
Her smile turned sultry. “What’s a girl got to do to get a drink in this place?”
Oh lord. “Nothing,” I said firmly. “Truly.” But hadn’t Griffin counted a prostitute among his best resources at one time? “However, if you wish to keep me company, of course I will provide refreshment. As a gentleman.”
She cocked her head at me curiously. “Huh. Got you a girl back home?”
“My family has certain expectations of me.” I spoke only the truth—father expected me to fail spectacularly at whatever I turned my hand to—but I saw no need to elaborate.
“Well, if you’re buying, I ain’t saying no. Ain’t saying no if you change your mind later, either,” she added with a grin which revealed several missing teeth. Had she lost them through dental malady, or had one of her “clients” knocked them out? “Stay right here.”
Somehow, she managed to get to the bar and back with a pair of whiskeys before Griffin returned. Now truly annoyed, I glanced around and found him deep in conversation with none other than Elliot Manning.
Curse it! I needed to extricate myself from this woman.
“Bartender put them on your bill,” Lucy said, slipping back into the chair beside me. “Now, sweetie, what do you want to talk about?”
No, I had to do this. Griffin had entrusted me with it. No doubt seeing Manning again was painful for him, and he wouldn’t thank me for interrupting. At least, I hoped such was the case. I knew I ought to be ashamed of the impulse, although I couldn’t quite manage it.
“Well,” I said, “I suppose about why I’ve come here.”
“Ooh, some big business deal? Bet you have those all the time. You ever been to New York?”
“Er, no. To all the above.” I took a bracing sip of my whiskey, and found it not half as foul as I’d expected. Perhaps the barkeep had given me what passed for quality in Threshold. No doubt I would be charged an extravagant amount for it, but Griffin was billing Father for our expenses, and this would simply have to be one of them.
“In truth,” I said, “my father sent me here because he’s concerned about these rumors of strange happenings in Threshold.”
She drew back, wariness blooming in her dark eyes.
“I know Mr. Orme doesn’t believe,” I went on hurriedly. “But I don’t agree with him. Did you see the black stone they uncovered nearby?”
She nodded reluctantly. “Yes. Gave me the crawlies, it did.”
“Me as well,” I admitted. “Unfortunately, someone stole the stone before we could examine it, so I don’t know anything for certain. However, I am, shall we say, open to possibilities others may not be. My partner, Mr. Flaherty, and I tried to discuss the situation with Mr. Orme and Mr. Manning earlier, to no avail. Do you know anything, Miss…?”
She looked at me for a long moment. “My last name is Mercer.”
“Miss Mercer.”
Her whiskey disappeared in a single gulp. “Most men don’t give a damn what my first name is, let alone my last, or whether I’m a miss or not.”
I flushed. “Oh! Forgive me for my assumption, Mrs. Mercer.”
“Nothing to forgive.” She turned and signaled one of the other women. “Hey! Dolly! Come here!”
The miners Dolly had been speaking with didn’t look very happy at her abrupt departure. Griffin was probably cursing my name, but he really should have known better than to leave me to my own devices.
“Hello, handsome,” Dolly said as she sashayed over. She was as blonde and as fair as Lucy—Mrs. Mercer—was dusky.
“Don’t bother,” Mrs. Mercer said to her friend. Colleague? “Dr. Whyborne here is trying to get to the bottom of what’s going on in Threshold. Serious-like.”
“Miss…?” I said helplessly, confronted by another set of breasts at my table.
“Dyhart,” Mrs. Mercer said. Dolly looked surprised, but I nodded cordially.
“Miss Dyhart. If you and Mrs. Mercer would be so kind, I could truly use whatever assistance you can gi
ve in this matter.”
“Well, bugger me blind,” Miss Dyhart said. Thank heavens I had been hardened by Christine’s frequent exclamations, although at least she kept most of hers in Arabic. “This is going to call for more whiskey.”
Chapter 6
“Anne just up and disappeared the morning of her wedding,” whispered Miss Hatford in a low voice. “They said she was just a drunken whore who couldn’t be trusted. Bastards.”
Somehow, I had ended up the lone male at the table, surrounded by three women of very questionable reputation. A great deal of whiskey had been consumed in the meantime, and I wondered what Father would think if he knew how his money was being spent.
Actually, never mind. If he knew I’d spent the night surrounded by female prostitutes, he’d probably consider it a sign of improvement.
“It’s true, Dr. Whyborne,” Miss Dyhart added earnestly, as if she feared I’d never believe her. “She loved Thomas. He was willing to overlook her past, give her a home. A real family. She didn’t talk about nothing else for weeks before the wedding. She wouldn’t have just left.”
“How would she get out of town?” Mrs. Mercer asked archly. “Ain’t like trains leave Threshold in the middle of the night like they do the big cities. And you ain’t going to tell me she just walked off over the mountain, without any of her belongings.”
“She went out at night?” I asked, trying to sort through the women’s story. “The night before her wedding?”
“She weren’t married yet, was she?” Mrs. Mercer demanded fiercely.
Dear God, I’d be lucky if I survived this interview. “I didn’t mean it as a criticism,” I said, holding up my hands to ward her off. “I only intend to enquire as to the circumstances of her disappearance. Not, er, pass judgment on those circumstances.”
They all relaxed, and I let out a glad breath. “That’s right,” Miss Dyhart said.
“Forgive me, I hate to suggest it, but is it possible she came to harm at the hands of the man she went to meet?” I asked. “Threshold is no Whitechapel, but…”
Whyborne and Griffin, Books 1-3 Page 31