The frankness of the comment made Annie follow his gaze, but she saw nothing beyond a game of kick-the-can being broken up by a passing trolley. She glanced across her shoulder at the kid, the corner of her lip coiled in a look that clearly said “Are you trying to play me?”
He looked at his shoes before glancing at Annie from the corner of his eyes. “Do you know you got a shadow?” he asked.
Perplexed, Annie quickly peeked behind her back. Noting nothing out of the ordinary, she asked, “A shadow?”
“A tail.”
Annie shook her head, not understanding.
“You’re being followed!” he hissed. “I noticed it when you come up the street.” The kid cocked his head. “He’s standing at the corner of that building yonder.”
Annie started to turn but stopped when the boy barked, “Not so fast!” He added more quietly, “Make it look natural. He’s wearing a duster. You can’t miss him.”
She made a show of setting her suitcase down to adjust the laces on her shoes while glancing down the street from under her brow. She scrambled to her feet, trying not to stare.“I believe that’s the gentleman who was standing next to me at the bank!”
“Do you know who he is?”
“I haven’t the foggiest.”
“Well, I do. He’s Ambrosius Culler’s buddy. Name’s Danyer, though some folk simply call him Hatchet Man.”
For a split second, Annie thought she heard him say killer and danger. But she didn’t have time to consider the irony before her mind registered the name like a slap to the face.
“I see you know the name,” the kid said flatly.
Annie risked a second look at the figure in the distance. “It’s familiar to me.”
“Thought it might be,” the kid said, looking up and down the street, lips pursed in concentration. He nodded to himself and took Annie’s arm. “Come on,” he said, leading her up the street past Gwinn’s Dry Goods and around another corner to a sandlot.
“Wait here,” he said before wandering past the dugout to the side of a large wood-framed building with the words Womack’s Hardware over the door to have a muted conversation with a pair of kids loitering against the wall. One disappeared inside while the other, after a quick glance at Annie, made his way back up the street in the direction from which they came.
Returning to take Annie’s hand, the kid led her to the corner, sliding open the door to Cooks Brothers’ Carriage Company. He ushered her inside, then followed, peeking his head back around the door frame. He looked up at Annie and cocked his head. “Wait,” he said before lowering himself so she could peer over his shoulder.
A girl with carrot-colored pigtails and a muslin skirt stepped out of the door of Womack’s, froze at the sight of the man in the duster coming up the street, and rocketed down an alleyway next to the hardware store with the man in quick pursuit.
Puzzled, Annie turned to her companion and asked, “What just happened?”
Arching his brows, the kid grinned. “I just bought you some time. Come on.”
Before Annie could argue, he started working his way through the building, past a room where leather hides were draped over dozens of wood rails, into an assembly hall past a rack loaded with spoked steel wheels and what appeared to be leather-covered box springs, and station after station of elegant carriages in various stages of completion, each labeled with names like Saratoga Phaeton or Imperial Surrey. An occasional worker in a leather apron would look up and nod respectfully to the kid, leading Annie to wonder exactly whose company she was keeping.
Taking her out the back and down an alley, he guided her into a deserted building, up a set of questionable stairs, and into a derelict room before heading to a lone window to peer out onto the street. After a minute, he turned, looking rather smug.
“Now that you’ve dragged me off to God knows where, can you at least tell me who the girl is?” Annie demanded.
“Wrong question,” he said. “You should be asking who Danyer thinks she is.” He took his cap off, and a pair of carrotcolored pigtails tumbled out. “He thinks she’s me.” Stacking a couple crates atop each other, the kid gestured for Annie to sit down. “You can call me Cap’n, and I think we should have us a talk, miss.”
Annie’s mouth formed a perfect O as her fists dropped from her hips. She lowered herself uncertainly onto the makeshift chair and began fussing with her skirt while taking stock of this interesting change of affairs. She studied Cap’n from the corner of her eye. Her initial assessment had put the girl around age eleven, but now Annie wasn’t so sure.There was something in her manner that was altogether too mature for a child of that age. When the silence became uncomfortable, Annie broke down and simply asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”
Chuckling as if at an inside joke, Cap’n asked, “Why? Think I’m playing hooky?”
“The name’s Annie. Speaking of which, why aren’t you in school? And where are your parents?”
Cap’n shook her head. “No parents, no school, and no one cares. I’m a throwaway, miss.” She walked to the corner and leaned against the wall, rubbing her chin before getting down to business. “But we got more important stuff to talk about, you and me. Why is Danyer following you?”
Annie stared at the girl in dumb silence, attempting to digest her sad account while simultaneously shaking her head at the improbability, the crazy chance that she’d be followed by anyone even remotely associated with the man who murdered her father. “I honestly don’t know,” she said.
“Then how come you looked like you seen a ghost when I said his name?”
“It wasn’t his name I responded to,” Annie said, more severely than intended.
Cap’n’s eyes flashed in understanding, and she stared at Annie with a look that began to mingle respect with her earlier skepticism. “Just so you know, this one’s old man Culler’s henchman. Does his dirty work. I don’t know why he’s tailing you, but I do know it don’t add up to no good.”
“Dirty work?”
“Aside from his legit businesses”—Cap’n said the word legit in a manner that suggested they were anything but—“Culler runs the grifts in Kansas City. No one can as much as pinch a penny without he gets a piece of the action…or Danyer pays them a visit.” She paused. “You don’t want Danyer paying a visit,” she added. The strange intelligence, as well as the girl’s cool selfpossession, caught Annie left-footed, but the girl pressed on. “You got something against Culler?” she asked. “If so, we just might have something in common.”
Annie held up her hand, her mind a riot. She wasn’t certain, but Cap’n seemed to be proposing an alliance of some sort. She chose her words carefully. “While I can’t see the appearance of that dreadful man as anything more than a coincidence, it is feasible that my business here involves Mr. Culler.”
“You friends?”
“Quite the opposite.”
Annie’s inflection left no debate as to her opinion of Mr. Culler, and Cap’n rubbed her hands together.“All right then.”She grabbed a crate and sat across from Annie. “He got it in for you, too?”
“‘Got it in for me’? I honestly don’t—” Annie puzzled over the comment for a moment before exclaiming, “Good lord! What have you done to cross the man?”
“I didn’t do nothing. Maybe saw something I oughtn’t, though.” Cap’n chewed on her lower lip before meeting Annie’s eyes. “Danyer killed a man, you see… My friend Fabian. Beat him to a pulp in an alley while I watched from behind a pile of rubbish. Then he shot him.”
“But why? Why would he do such a thing?”
“We botched a fleece job.”
Annie absorbed what she could of the girl’s story, but it created more questions than answers. She looked around. “And you…you live here now?”
Cap’n nodded.
The gesture silenced Annie. This hovel—she couldn’t think of a better word—was the girl’s home. More to the point, she was in desperate trouble, and from the same
man who had killed Annie’s father. Yet there Cap’n stood, a defiant, brave little throwaway living in a condemned building, hiding from an obviously ruthless man, and stubbornly refusing to give in to everything life threw at her.
Annie wasn’t certain how long she was struck dumb, but it was long enough to witness Cap’n dealing with an internal struggle of her own. The poor thing must be desperate for allies, Annie thought, and her initial shock on hearing Cap’n’s story began to give way to a surprisingly tender feeling. She wanted to help her. And given what she knew about Cap’n’s story, Annie thought it was quite possible that she’d never been the beneficiary of a sympathetic heart—in an adult, anyway. She looked for something to say, something that Cap’n wouldn’t mistake for pity, certain the girl would have too much pride for that nonsense.
But she waited too long and lost the opportunity when Cap’n sat down again, saying impatiently, “Your turn.”
Annie sighed, regretting her silence. She could hardly blame Cap’n for her wariness and decided to trust in the truth, at least a part of it. “Mr. Culler has caused injury to two members of my family,” she said.
“What did he do?”
Annie considered her response but quickly realized anything she said would lead to other questions she wouldn’t know how to answer.
Undeterred by her silence, Cap’n tried a different tack. “Is that why Danyer is tailing you?” she asked.
“Strangely enough,” Annie said, standing up, “that just seems to be pure, dumb luck on his part. Neither he nor Mr. Culler know who I am.”
“Well, who are you then?” Cap’n asked.
Who am I, indeed, Annie thought. She walked to the window and looked out at the backdrop of dreary buildings. “Someone unexpected,” she said. Catching a movement below, she craned her neck to seek the source of the disturbance and almost missed Cap’n saying under her breath,“Yes, you are.”She looked over her shoulder.
The girl returned her regard, her eyes narrow and uncertain. It angered Annie that Cap’n should be forced into such unfair decisions as to whether to trust her, and it angered her further that, ultimately, she felt judged. She turned that anger against its source, Mr. Culler, and surprised herself by saying, “Let me help you.”
If she expected some visual cue, a change in Cap’n’s features indicating she’d heard the comment, she was disappointed. Not a muscle twitched in Cap’n’s face, and her gaze never wavered. If anything, she gave the appearance of looking through Annie at the wall behind her. After a moment, however, her cheeks budded with tiny pink explosions. But as quickly as her skin colored, Cap’n’s eyes hardened and the blush faded away.
Well, it’s a start, Annie thought.
“What are you going to do?” For the first time, Cap’n sounded like a scared little girl.
“I’m going to start by getting you out of here. Someplace safe,” Annie said. “Then I’m going to put a fly in Mr. Culler’s ointment.”
Cap’n’s gaze trailed to the floorboards. “There ain’t no safer place for me.” She pivoted on her crate to face Annie. “And begging your pardon, but I think it’s you who’ll be needing my help.”
“That’s out of the question.”
“Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but you really don’t understand what you’ve gotten yourself into, Miss Annie.” As quickly as that, the scared girl was gone and Cap’n was back in business. She stood up, planted her feet apart, and folded her arms across her chest—leaving Annie with the vague impression of a rooster scratching in the dirt. “Truth be told, I don’t know what to make of you. But I have a stake in this, and you’re going to need my help.”
When Annie appeared unconvinced, she continued. “I’m Cap’n,” she said. “That makes me the eyes and ears of this here city. Nothing happens I don’t learn about it, and there ain’t one square inch of this place I don’t know like the back of my hand. Besides, we’ve been itching to get in a dig with those two.”
Despite being pleased that Cap’n had used her name for the first time, Annie managed only one word in response. “‘We’?”
Cap’n nodded in smug satisfaction. “The sandlot gang.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Pure and Simple
Those who think boys are made of snakes and snails and puppy dog tails have misjudged the condition of being one. Boys are made of mischief and mayhem, pure and simple. Adding Annie to the mix makes a double dose. And the unfortunate souls who think that girls are made of sugar, spice, and everything nice have obviously never met Cap’n.
Cap’n rearranged the crates, plopped herself down, and pulled her knees up under her chin, gesturing for Annie to join her. “I get a bead on people pretty quick, and there are three things I already know about you,” she said. “One, you’re a decent lady. Two, you’re in way over your head. And three, you know something.”
The comments were so perceptive— the last two, at any rate— that Annie needed a moment to regroup. Finally, she met Cap’n’s eyes. “You’re a child,” she said.
“I can handle myself.”
Annie had to admit that the evidence was on the girl’s side. Nothing about Cap’n fell within Annie’s experience. The girl was obviously resourceful. More than that, she had a rough and ready grace beyond her years. There had been hints as to what forged it, and Annie found herself wanting to know more about the circumstances, but her curiosity would have to wait. She stared at Cap’n silently, weighing her conscience.
“What’s it going to be?” Frustrated by Annie’s uncertainty, Cap’n added, “Look, it’s pretty simple. My problem ends up with me dead if I don’t solve it. You say you want to help, and it’s kind of you not wanting to mix me up in your problems—tells me the kind of lady you are—but I don’t have time for that kind of thinking. Either we work together, or we shake hands and go our separate ways. No hard feelings.”
Annie could think of no argument so after a moment she acquiesced, saying, “There are secrets I must keep for now, things I won’t be able to explain. Can you live with that?”
Cap’n scratched her ear, thinking. Finally, she slid off the crate and walked over to peer out the window. “I don’t like secrets,” she said.
“I don’t blame you. My entire life has been built on secrets that I’m only now uncovering.”
Leaning with her hands on the sill, Cap’n raised her index finger to scribble on the dirty window.
Annie could see she’d written the word trust and wandered over to write something next to it.
Cap’n peered at the writing, then turned to search Annie’s face. She nodded, extending her hand. Annie shook it, and the two wandered back to the crates, leaving anyone who happened to see the window from the alley to wonder what em tsurt might mean.
“There is going to be a murder tonight,”Annie said. She paused, waiting for Cap’n’s reaction, but there was none forthcoming. “I can’t tell you how I know this to be true, but I can tell you that the murderer will be your Mr. Culler, no doubt with the aid of his loathsome associate.”
Annie folded her hands together in her lap, “My grandmother is going to be accused of his crime.”
She looked up to see Cap’n making a show of adjusting the straps to her overalls. She took her time and, once satisfied, looked up thoughtfully. “It seems to me that you know a lot more about what’s gonna happen than a person oughta.”
Annie chose not to defend her comments.
“Okay,” Cap’n conceded. “And who’s going to be murdered?”
“David Abbott.”
“The magician? The man who travels to the future?”That didn’t sit too well, and Cap’n’s expression reflected it. “Wait a minute! Don’t he and Culler work together?”
Annie recalled the article she took from the Antiquarian and nodded.
Cap’n took a long breath before letting it out. “Well, that’s an earful.” She wandered around the room, running her hand lazily along the wall. At one point, she
stopped. “You can’t go to the Grunts?” Realizing the word hadn’t registered, she tried again. “Police?”
“What would I tell them?”
Cap’n thought about that and began to wander again, tracing patterns in the faded wallpaper. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the dollar Annie gave her, turning it over in her hand. “Do you know where this is going to happen? This murder?” she asked.
“In David Abbott’s home.”
Cap’n looked up, searching Annie’s face. “And we can’t stop it?”
Annie shook her head.
“You sure?”
“That’s already been attempted,”Annie blurted out. Grimacing, she collected her thoughts. “I know that makes no sense. Frankly, I don’t think the murder can be stopped, but I’ll be damned before I allow my grandmother to be convicted for it.”
Cap’n let out a breath of air, sounding tired when she said, “Already been tried? How could you have already tried to stop something that ain’t happened yet?”
“Remember that I said there are things I can’t explain?” Annie struggled to find something more to say but gave up,looking deflated. “Cap’n, if you want out of our agreement, I certainly understand.”
Looking as though she had been slapped, Cap’n exclaimed, “No! I made a promise, and I’ll keep it.” She began to pace again but with greater determination, muttering to herself all the while. “If we can’t stop it, then we have to point the finger at them who done it.” She closed her eyes, thinking, before smacking her fist into her palm. “A plant,” she said.
“A plant?” asked Annie. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re going to plant something on Abbott’s body that points to Culler and Danyer.”
Annie rocked back, almost losing her balance. “Are you suggesting that we break into a private residence and…and violate a corpse?”
“Yup.” Cap’n broke into a grin. “And I know just the thing.” She sat across from Annie, looking very pleased with herself. “This solves both our problems, don’t you see? It gets Culler out of my hair and the heat off your grandma at the same time.” She caught Annie’s look of distaste and tried to mollify her by adding, “If the man’s dead as you say, he won’t mind.”
The Lemoncholy Life of Annie Aster Page 16