An Agent for Laurel

by Lynn Donovan

  “Alright.” As she sat, she reprimanded herself for letting him continually ruffle her feathers. Why did his opinion of her matter so much? This whole arrangement was temporary. A means to become an agent under his training and move on to other cases. She’d be free of her father’s control and live the life she’d dreamed of, with a legitimate career and not as Mrs. Ransom Williams.

  A flood of sadness filled her heart. She pondered why.

  Laurel stood slightly behind Ransom as the well-dressed men gradually filed into the room. Heavy red velvet curtains were drawn back to let in as much fading sunlight as possible. Two maids scurried to ignite gas lamps as long shadows swept across the red and gold carpet. The wealthiest members of society, including her father, who had been asked to attend an important meeting with the Chief of Police and Pinkerton agents, mingled noisily. Serious faces contrasted friendly interactions with handshakes and shoulder pats, as the men she knew through her father and the society pages of the newspaper, but not in person, milled about.

  Her gut roiled. This was a terrible idea. The Chief had taken Ransom’s suggestion to visit with each well-to-do person and had decided it would be more efficient to call them all in to one huge meeting. Laurel tried her best to convince Ransom this wouldn’t work. Tabor and any of the other elitists would not reveal their possession in such a public setting. She did tell him that, of course, using very general terms when she spoke of the wealthiest men of Denver. Even with the guarantee of amnesty, they wouldn’t take such an open risk.

  Fear of being recognized lingered in her gut also. She steadied her breath and worked to suppress the trepidation, reminding herself that she had lived her adult life in seclusion. None of these men had seen her in over ten years. They would only recognize her true name, Laurel Wellington, daughter of G. Emery Wellington. She entered the Pinkerton Agency as Laurel Robinson, but even that had changed. Now married, as Laurel Williams, her identity was buried even deeper.

  Her father’s usual guise of being an ordinary wealthy citizen among all the others would remain a secret from Ransom. She wouldn’t acknowledge him nor he her. That was her father’s plan all along. She would strive to keep her gaze to a minimum, and she hoped Father had the good sense to do the same. For the first time in her life, she felt a sense of relief that she favored her mother and not her father. No one could associate her with Emery Wellington. Still her heart pounded in anticipation that her father’s clever plan would be exposed by her mere presence.

  Police Chief John Farley cleared his throat. Laurel and Ransom made their way next to him and sat down. Discussions had already begun about the Ghost Thief and the peculiar problems he had caused. It was no secret why they had been asked to attend. In fact, it was many of them who had complained to the chief that nothing had been done to curtail the Ghost Thief’s activities.

  The men obediently found a seat and quieted to hear what the chief had to say. He introduced Ransom and Laurel as Mr. and Mrs. Williams, Pinkerton agents assigned to help with this menace. All eyes focused on Laurel. In truth, she assured herself, it was the two of them that held the room’s attention just for being Pinkerton associates. The agencies reputation placed them in that status. That and she was the only woman in a room full of egotistical, self-righteous men who generally got whatever they wanted.

  Ransom laid out his thoughts to bait the spirited thief. She listened to his monologue while her father’s plan to reveal Horace Tabor’s valuable secret skipped alongside the image of Ransom’s proposition. Somehow, she had to weave the two together to expose the whereabouts of the artifact. The audience listened respectfully.

  William Loveland, Jr. offered a priceless diamond and sapphire necklace that had been passed down through several generations. Laurel peaked an eyebrow as she allowed a quick glance to meet her father’s eyes. They were not aware he possessed such a rarity. A sickening knot clenched in her stomach. She knew Mr. Loveland would be relieved of the family heirloom before the year ended. As a Pinkerton agent, she swallowed a burning sensation to quietly tell Mr. Loveland he should move the necklace to a more secure location now that he had revealed he owned it.

  John Patterson begrudgingly revealed he possessed a jewel encrusted sword that had been used in battle by King Richard himself. A smile quivered at Laurel’s lips. She and her father had examined the very item during one of their specter visits, and had determined Mr. Patterson was foolishly mistaken about its origins. While it was a fine sword, the jewels were glass and the hilt was rather ordinary to seventeenth century craftsmanship. The blade may have seen battle, but it wasn’t even the right style for the twelfth century or King Richard’s hand.

  Laurel let her eyes roam over the attendees. Ransom held their attention. All but Horace Tabor. His gaze was downcast and his skin appeared to be pallid and moist. She licked her lips to disguise the grin that wished to appear on them. Tabor was literally sweating his decision whether to reveal his holdings. She willed him to come forth, but he remained silent.

  Mr. Campbell gave an offer, followed by Mr. Moffat. The typical battle to best the other consumed even this discussion. Their eagerness to outdo the other with a baited item became the challenge, and shouting ensued until it sounded like an auctioning block with bidders frenzying to obtain the greatest offer. Ransom stood, lifting his hands to silence the men.

  “Gentlemen, gentlemen!” He paused until he had their undivided attention. “These are all very good suggestions, but—”

  Laurel leapt to her feet. “But we need something far more unique, more exclusively valuable, or this plan will not work to draw the Ghost Thief into our trap.”

  Ransom gawked at her, surprise widened his eyes. “Yeah. Ah, yes, my wife is right. The bait must be something so exclusive that the Ghost Thief will be blinded with greed and willing to risk making a mistake which will expose him at last. Isn’t there anything among you that will—listen, gentlemen, we realize that such an item might condemn you by unlawful possession, but I assure you. If you will allow us to use this item, you have our word” —he glanced to the Chief— “amnesty will be granted and we will turn a blind eye to whoever possesses the… item. Your secret is safe here.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Laurel followed her husband’s lead as he eased back into his chair and waited. She closed her eyes, chanting in her head. “Come on Tabor, say it. Come on…”

  The silence continued. Laurel glanced at her father, then at Tabor. He wasn’t going to admit to anything in front of all these people. Of course not. She had told Ransom this would happen. She lifted her chin and spoke toward the men, but addressed the Chief of Police. “Chief Farley, I believe a certain amount of privacy is required of these gentlemen. Should one be holding such a unique and priceless item that would bring our Ghost Thief beyond his clever guise, the holder of said item shouldn’t be required to expose his possession to the entire community. Let’s adjourn and allow these good men time to discreetly send information to you… or my husband, as to what they have and how we can receive it for our trap.”

  Ransom glared at Laurel. Complete amazement shone in his eyes. Her aggressive behavior was unusual for a female, she knew it was, but from the look on Ransom’s face, she wondered if he was intrigued rather than insulted. Then he confirmed her suspicions with a soft murmur. “That’s my wife!”

  She turned to him with rounded eyes and a reprimanding expression, to which he smiled. “My wife has a very contrary idea, but I agree with her. This is a private matter that should be handled with more discretion than we had first planned. We shall retire to our apartment.” He turned to the chief. “You may send word when you hear from one of these good fellows.”

  Chief Farley squinted one bushy eyebrow over his emerald green eyes and nodded. “Aye. We will give them a discretionary alternative to blurting out what they have in secret holding.”

  “Gentlemen.” Ransom rose and Laurel followed his lead. “We await your messenger. And let me assure you, again, amnes
ty is guaranteed. No matter what you offer up for bait. Solving this case is that important. That’s between you and God, I say. Help us catch this Ghost Thief and forget the consequences purported by law for what you offer to do it.”

  He nodded a sharp jerk of his chin and led Laurel from the room. They walked to his apartment in silence and began the ritual of making coffee the minute they entered his small abode.

  “What do you suppose they will bring to us?” Ransom asked while gathering the coffee pot and glass jar to go get water. She poured coffee beans in the grinder and turned the handle slowly. “There’s no telling.”

  But she knew exactly what she hoped came to light. As pale and damp as Horace Tabor looked, she thought he knew what he had to do too.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A light tap at Ransom’s door drew his head up from the spot on the table where he had been staring for quite a while. Alternate ideas had been twisting and turning through his mind as they waited to hear from the chief or one of the elites. Concentration came easier if he didn’t follow Laurel movements around the apartment with his gaze.

  She flitted about, sitting occasionally to read one of several books she had packed in her trunk, cleaning the few things they had used to have coffee. He watched her repeatedly go through her trunk, arranging and rearranging her clothes. There wasn’t enough room in the small chifforobe for her to fully unpack, but when she returned to the table and huffed out a sigh, he quickly diverted his eyes to the spot on the table.

  She was beautiful… and smart, and organized, and—he wanted to spend this idle time kissing her instead of pondering another plan in case this one fell through. But he had made a promise to her. Despite the fact that they were married. It was a marriage for propriety reasons only. To preserve her reputation. Taking advantage of his husbandly rights, in the biblical sense, wouldn’t be appropriate toward preserving her reputation or allow for an annulment when this case was solved. A fleeting thought whistled through Ransom’s head. Would that be so bad? To stay married?

  A second tap ripped him from his contemplating. “Finally!”

  He leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair, and startling Laurel in the process. All for a tap at the door. Perhaps it was resisting Laurel that truly caused his disproportionate reaction to what he’d been anticipating for the past hour—news from the Chief.

  Laurel had stood with him, although with less chaos ensuing. Her eyes darting from the door to him. He took long strides to open the door.

  A grimy street urchin lifted big eyes to meet Ransom’s and touched the brim of his hat as he held out a folded piece of paper. “I gots a message for ya, sir.”

  “Who’s it from?”

  “Not s’pose to say, sir. He paid me extra to keep my mouth shut.” The boy grinned showing a tooth missing.

  “Well then, you’ve done a fine job.” Ransom reached into his pants pocket and tossed a coin into the air. The boy caught it midair. His grin widened.

  “Thank ye.” He touched his brim again but didn’t move from his spot. “I was also told to wait for a reply.”

  Ransom nodded and opened the note.

  “What does it say?” Laurel’s perfume reached Ransom before she did. He forced himself to read the neatly scribed note, disregarding his exhilarating awareness that she stood mere inches behind him.

  He read the note aloud. “Please join me as my guest for an early dinner at six o’clock tomorrow evening at the Brown Palace Hotel, followed by an entertaining show at the Tabor Opera House afterward. My wife and I look forward to getting to know you better, and your lovely wife, too. Until then…

  “H. T.”

  “Well, it seems it is Mr. Horace Tabor who is courageous enough to expose an item that he owns. I’ll let the chief know of our invitation.” He turned back to the boy. “Please tell Mr. Tabor we would be delighted.”

  “Yes sir!” The boy tipped his hat with a huge smile and ran toward the stairs. Ransom took a step, but Laurel caught his elbow.

  “Tonight?” Laurel’s curious expression had faded into one of concern. “It’s well after ten o’clock, and… I’m starving. Can’t we tell the chief in the morning?”

  Ransom gave one last glance at the retreating lad, and turned back to Laurel. All they had had was coffee since the meeting. Of course she was hungry. “Yes. You’re right. We need to eat. I’ll inform Chief Farley first thing in the morning…” He considered her. “After breakfast.”

  She smiled. “And we can discuss our plans once we know where… uh, once we know what Tabor has to offer.”

  Ransom tilted his head. She really did keep her mind on the case, regardless how hungry she might be. He chuckled to himself. She just might make a good detective yet. He extended his elbow. “Shall we?”

  A curious look drew her brow together.

  “There’s a nice diner at the corner.”

  She nodded and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. She liked walking at his side. He appeared to be pleased with the idea of eating dinner with her. But what would they do tonight for sleeping arrangements? She could sleep in his bed. He could make a pallet on the floor. It was only proper for a man to give up his comforts to a lady, but was it fair? Maybe tomorrow they could borrow a cot from the Pinkerton dorms.

  The diner was busy, despite the late hour. Ransom pulled out Laurel’s chair and then sat across from her. He looked around, confirming all the customers seemed benign. She knew the surveillance method well. Her father did it all the time. A woman in a white apron approached the table with a large pitcher of water and two glasses. “How may I serve you?”

  She bent to set the glasses on the table and the pitcher slid from her tray, splashing across Ransom’s shoulders and down his front. “Good God, woman!” He leapt to his feet. She staggered back. “Oh! I’m so sorry!”

  He brushed the excess water from his chest and glared at Laurel. “Why does this keep happening?” He looked toward the back of the diner. “Excuse me.” He stomped to the swinging kitchen door and vanished through it.

  The waitress scuttled behind him, apologizing the entire way.

  “Laurel,” the man at her back whispered.

  “You’ve got to stop dumping water on my husband!” Laurel hissed. “And you’ve got to stop following me!”

  “Do you know anything yet?”

  “No! And if I did, I would have sent word! You have got to be patient!”

  “What do you know?”

  “Nothing!”

  Her eyes lifted to the swinging door as their waitress hurried through it. She looked distressed and approached Laurel’s father. “Okay. I did what you asked. Now, please leave.”

  “Yes. Thank you, missy.” A heavy coin pinged as it bounced on his table. She reached to scoop it into her apron pocket and stood stoic until he rose from his seat. Laurel empathized with her. Father had an uncanny ability to convince people to do things they would otherwise never dream of doing.

  Ransom busted through the kitchen door just as Laurel’s father exited the diner. Father had laid a napkin beside her hand as he passed. She didn’t dare look at it. Ransom sat heavily with an enormous sigh. “This isn’t my day.”

  Laurel’s lips quivered. She tucked them in on themselves, but the giggle took on a life of its own and sprang forth. She covered her mouth with her hand. Ransom looked at her with an indignant snarl, but his lip trembled and soon, he was laughing, too. “If I didn’t know better…”

  Laurel shook her head and touched his hand. “Don’t even say it.” They laughed again until it waned into a heavy jovial sigh.

  “Can we get menus?” Laurel called out to the waitress who was behind the counter wiping something fervently.

  She rushed to them with thick paper menus. “Here. Listen, I’m so sorry about the water.”

  “It’s alright.” Ransom smiled at her graciously. “Let us look these over and we’ll order in a minute.” He shoved his aside.

  Laurel looked deep into his eyes. “You e
at here a lot, don’t you?”

  “Yes. How’d you know?”

  “You know already what you want. You’re just biding time for me to read the menu and decide what I want.”

  Ransom smiled. “See? You’re becoming an excellent sleuth already.”

  Her eyes darted to the front door. She flipped the napkin over in her lap and glanced down at her father’s message.

  Where are you meeting Tabor?

  She sighed and wadded the napkin in with her fist. Her father was long gone and yet he hovered over them like a dismal rain cloud.

  How she wished they had been assigned out of town, or out of state. The other teams had been sent to California, Wyoming, and Nebraska. Why did she have to be given Denver and the Ghost Thief? How would she ever get out from under her father’s scrutiny?

  “Do you know what you want?” Ransom broke into her thoughts.

  “Yeah.” She started and brought her focus to him and his warm brown eyes. “Oh, whatever you’re having?”

  “The open face pot roast sandwich?”

  She glanced at the words on the menu without really reading anything. “Yes. That sounds good.”

  “Perfect. Let’s eat quickly and go back home. I have an idea for drawing out the Ghost Thief.”

  She swallowed. The thought of putting her father in jeopardy didn’t sit well with her stomach. Or was she simply very hungry. “Yes. I have some thoughts on the subject as well.”

  Ransom looked amused and turned to wave down their waitress.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The taxi pulled his dapple grey to a halt in front of the oddly-shaped brick building at Seventeenth and Broadway. It looked like a three-dimensional triangle with rounded points to match the divergent lay of the intersecting streets. Laurel had always thought the city planner had received inspiration from a game of pick-up-sticks while designing these downtown streets of Denver.

  Laurel angled her head to look at the unusual building that rose so tall into the sky. She swiped the air in an attempt to take Ransom’s extended hand. He only wished to assist her from the enclosed carriage, but her eyes couldn’t leave the enormous fiery-brick building. Upon entering, she still craned her neck to take in the central pentagon-shaped dining room surrounded by a continuous balcony, nine levels high. She supposed all the guests’ rooms had access to this overlook into the dining area.