by Lynn Donovan
“Can you open it?”
“The question is… should I open it?”
Silence pricked her heart. Then at last her father whispered, “You turning against me now?”
“No, of course not.” She crept up to the safe and examined the three dials. “What if I told you, I want out.”
“Out of what?” he hissed.
“Out of the family business.”
“But… you’re good at this.”
“That doesn’t justify me doing it.” She hesitated. “Daddy, I like being a Pinkerton Agent. I’m good at it too.”
“Once a thief, always a thief.”
“I don’t believe that.
You need the rush
I get the same rush from being an agent.
“Maybe so.” She studied the dials on the safe, then looked into his face. “Maybe it justifies what I’ve done… in the past.”
He stared at her long and hard. A softness washed over his expression. Maybe she was getting through to him, then he opened his mouth. “So what do you think about these combination dials?”
Maybe not. She lowered her eyes. Without knowing the individual combinations, she’d have to listen for three bolts to fall in place, but they needed to fall in place simultaneously. What would happen if they didn’t? Would alarms go off? She didn’t know, but suspected as much, otherwise why would Tabor have the safe designed with three locks that had to be dialed at the same time. “Hmm.”
She could turn them one at a time and listen for the cylinders to fall into place. That way she’d know the combination, then go back and turn two at a time, but how could she figure out the third and have it tumble into place simultaneously? This was, in deed, a clever locking mechanism.
She leaned back and tapped her chin. How to make this work?
“I need three strong magnets.”
“What?” Her father had crawled under the safe, looking for another way inside. “Ah ha.” He crawled out and stood behind her. “Well, then, we shall have to return another day.”
She turned around to face her father. “Not necessarily. Excuse me.”
They both turned sideways and she slithered past him toward the door. “What? You know where three magnets are? In a theater?”
She said nothing, but scurried to the heavy doors. Pulling the doors open, she called to her father. “Here, come hold these open so I can see.”
He rushed up to her and did as she bade. She hurried down the aisle and slipped behind the curtain. The ghost light, which had been lift on for superstitious reasons, gave just enough illumination that she could search through props. Not finding what she looked for, she felt the back of the scene sets. “Ah. Here it is.”
“What? What have you found?”
She ran toward him, her hands jumbling something small but heavy. As she reached her father, she tossed one into the air for him to see. “Magnets.”
His mouth gapped. “How’d you know you’d find magnets backstage?”
She smiled mischievously. “Did you see the play?”
“I can’t say I’ve had the privilege.”
“Well, you should.”
A newsboy bellowed from the street, “Read all about it! Ancient artifact hidden at the Opera House. Get your paper here. Read all about it…!”
Ransom closed the sash and turned to Laurel. “Well, if that don’t call out the Ghost Thief, nothing will.”
Laurel pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. “Coffee?”
He took the mug and sipped it gingerly. “Let’s go to the opera house today and set up our stakeout.”
“After breakfast.” Laurel grinned.
Ransom matched her jovial expression. “Yes, wife. After breakfast. We Pinkerton’s may never sleep, but we don’t miss a meal either.” He watched her languid movements as she cleaned up from making their coffee. “Is everything alright? You seem… not yourself.”
“Oh, I’m fine. Just tired. I had a hard time sleeping last night with all the excitement of trapping the Ghost Thief and all.”
That made sense, but something bothered Ransom. He couldn’t put a finger on it.
“Would you like to rest? We don’t have to go to the opera house right away. We both know the Ghost Thief won’t make an appearance until tonight.”
Something in the way her eyes shot up to met his. “No. I’ll be alright.”
“The opera house doesn’t open until later, but I have an idea.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d like to look at the building in daylight, to see how the Ghost Thief might get in and out without detection.”
She nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
He leveled her eyes to match hers. “Are you sure you’re alright.”
She uncrossed her legs and stood quickly. “I said I was. Can we go to breakfast now?”
“Of course.” Ransom set his cup on the counter and reached for his hat. “After you, Mrs. Williams.” He swept a grand gesture toward the door and she marched past him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ransom led Laurel around the opera house building to the alley. She hadn’t eaten much for breakfast and even now seemed sluggish. He examined the lock on the door, and held out his hand. “Got a hairpin?”
Laurel pulled one from the back of her head. Ransom shoved it into the lock and moved it around, but the door didn’t open. Frustrated, he walked away, handing the hairpin to her as he passed. He peered up at the windows looking for an opening. “Maybe there’s another way in.”
“Here you go.” Laurel stood holding the door open.
“How’d you—”
She shrugged. “You did it. Perhaps you didn’t turn the handle far enough.”
Ransom eyed her suspiciously as she replaced the hairpin. A flutter caught in his heart. The more time he spent with this woman, the more he wanted to spend with her. This was a subject they needed to discuss. Soon. He returned to where she stood waiting for him. “Perhaps…”
He entered the opera house and she slid in behind him. The back storage room, through which they entered, was dark. Ransom fumbled past shelving and supplies, making his way to a stream of light across the floor. A door. He pulled it open and stepped out into the carpeted lobby. Sunlight filled the expansive area, bouncing off the gilded frames and brass handrails. Now he could walk with ease. He glanced back to confirm Laurel was coming.
She was, and with much more finesse than he. She must have cat-like vision in dark places. Good for hunting. Would she want to go hunting with him? He’d love to take her into the woods and snuggle to keep warm in a small tent. Mentally, he shook his head. Focus! He reprimanded himself. This marriage is temporary. Nothing permanent.
Craning his neck, he examined the stairs and railing. Where could they hide to watch for the Ghost Thief? Turning to look at all the possibilities, he saw Laurel. His heart skidded to a halt, then began beating again. She was so beautiful.
She stood with her hands folded in front of her skirts. Why wasn’t she searching for a good place to set up a stake out? This wasn’t like her. “Do you see any place where we could watch for the thief?”
“Not really.”
Curiosity drew his brow. Had he finally found an area she could not figure out on her own? Surveillance was a craft of the Pinkertons. At last, something he could teach her. “It needs to be a place where we will not be easily seen, but we have a clear view of the safe. Perhaps we should look behind the wall.”
He walked over to the display and tried the door a few feet down from it. It was locked. “May I borrow that hairpin again?”
She rustled another one from the back of her hair and handed it to him. He shoved it into the skeleton key hole and wiggled it around. She sighed. “Try holding it down, at an angle.”
He did so, and the lock clicked. Opening the door, he tilted his head and smiled with a look of triumph. Then frowned.
She snatched the hairpin from his fingers. “Dime novels, remember?” A grimacing smile expos
ed her teeth as she peeked into the narrow corridor. He stepped back. “I need a lamp.”
She spun around and walked back to the storage room, found a lantern and a box of matches. She lit the lamp and brought it to him. “How’d you know where they were?”
“I saw them when we came in.”
“I couldn’t see anything in there.”
This was the Laurel he had grown accustomed to. Perhaps what little breakfast she ate was reviving her sensibilities. “Thank you.”
He took the light and entered the space. The safe sat on a sturdy framed-out section built into the small space, so that the glass wall was eye level to the public. He held the lamp high so he could see the three dials that Tabor had described. His elbow rubbed against the interior framing. Were the walls closing in on him? He closed his eyes and suppressed the sensation.
The safe looked brand new, and yet there were spots where the paint was scratched next to the dials. “Interesting.” He looked under the table as best he could, to bend was difficult in this cramped space and caused the claustrophobia to resurface. Nothing else drew his attention as odd so he gladly backed out of the small space and joined Laurel in the expansive lobby. He gulped in fresh, clean air as he moved closer to her side.
Placing his back against the glass of the display, he looked up. “I think we should check out the balcony area. Maybe in the dark of night, that would be a suitable place to hide.” He looked into her dark eyes. “Unless the Ghost Thief has cat-eyes, like you.”
She scrunched her face as if mocking him. He liked teasing her. It was childish, he knew, but her beauty was enhanced when she blushed.
He turned to determine the angle at which they’d need to be, in order to see the artifact from up there—
He spun around to the display window, then looked again, and pressed his head against the thick glass.
The artifact!
It was gone! He stammered, “Where is it?”
“What?” Laurel stood beside him.
“The artifact. It’s gone!”
“It can’t be.”
“Look for yourself.” He stepped away so she could see.
She sidled up to him and he watched her eyes move all around the display. “Hmm. You suppose the Ghost Thief’s already been here?”
“But how? How did he know?” Ransom looked deeply into her eyes. “How in hell did he know? The only person we told was the editor.”
“And anybody who was listening at the saloon last night.”
“Sure, but—” He glared at the floor. “I suppose anybody could have seen the artifact.” He slammed his fist into the wall. “Tabor is an idiot! How could he think it was a good idea to hide this thing in plain sight?” He paused. His eyes darted everywhere then settle on her eyes again. “You suppose the Ghost Thief was at the saloon?” Mentally, he flipped through a card-file-like recollection of the men in the saloon.
She lifted her eyebrows with consternation. “He learned about the artifact somehow.”
Ransom looked through the glass at the inside of the safe. “There’s no telling, is there?” He stared at the display. “He’s good— wait!”
He grabbed the lantern and rushed to the door leading into the back space. “Come look at this.” Handing her the lantern, he shoved her ahead of him. She shuffled toward the safe. “See the dials.”
She looked.
“See those scratch marks? What could that be?”
“I-I have no idea.”
“I don’t either, but my gut tells me that’s how the Ghost Thief got into the safe.”
“Can we get out of this tight space?” Her voice sounded emotional.
Ransom chuckled. “Don’t like small spaces, huh?” He backed out and drew her with him.
She handed him the lantern. “Now what?”
He pulled her into his chest. She felt good in his arms. Too good. “Now, we need to let Chief Farley know what has happened—and Tabor, too.”
“That’s not going to go over very well.”
“No. I don’t suppose it will.” Reluctantly, he released her. “We need to get word to Archie, too.”
She pursed her lips with a slight nod.
“How could you let this happen?” Horace Tabor paced the space in front of the display case. “I trusted you! And your agency!”
“Mr. Tabor, please. He’s not called a Ghost Thief for no reason. Besides, how do we know you didn’t take it yourself?”
Tabor’s mouth dropped open, then he lifted his chin with great resolve. "The man’s a magician!”
Ransom swirled around to Laurel. “Magician.” He took hold of Laurel’s shoulders. “During the play… they levitated that sword—”
He ran to the theater and swept the curtain aside. Laurel, Tabor, and Chief Farley ran after him.
“There’s always a logical explanation behind every magic act.” He craned his neck, looking into the fly tower. “Either they used wires, or…” He rushed behind the set, examining the thin wall where the sword had seemed to float into the air. “Ah ha!” He pulled three magnets from the wall. “This is it!”
The entourage followed his frantic pace back to the lobby. He quickly lit the lamp and dashed into the small corridor where the safe sat. The three observers watched from outside the door. He placed the three magnets on the safe, next to the dials, matching some pattern that he saw. The magnets snapped into place against the metal. “Come look at this!”
Chief Farley hesitantly entered the long narrow area.
“See here?” Ransom pulled the magnet from the metal, to show Farley.
Farley had to press against Ransom in order to view his discovery.
“See where the paint is scratched? He used these magnets, to—somehow open this safe.”
Farley leaned hard against Ransom to look, but quickly retreated to the open space of the lobby. He retrieved a handkerchief and wiped his moistened forehead. “Yes, it does appear those magnets were placed on that safe, but how would that let him break the code and get into the safe?”
“I’m not sure. But at least we have our first clue as to how he managed to steal this artifact and not leave a trace.”
“But,” Farley looked around the lobby. “How’d he get in? I don’t see a single broken window, or anything.”
Ransom glanced at Laurel. “Well, we are proof that Mr. Tabor’s back door is easily broken into. Just a hairpin and some finagling of that handle.” He smiled at Laurel. She licked her lips and turned away. That was odd.
“What?” Tabor huffed. “I shall double bolt that door today!”
“And what good will that do you now?” Farley barked. “I mean. I’m sorry, Tabor, ol’ boy. I’m just flustered that what seemed like our best plan to catch this thief was foiled. And—” He nodded to the mass of people clamoring at the front doors. “Now it seems the entire town has come to see your Broadway play.”
“Well, no one’s getting through those doors unless they have bought a ticket!” Tabor crossed his arms over his abundant chest and pushed out his lip.
“I’d think the show is the least of your problems, Mr. Tabor,” Laurel spoke quietly. Ransom caught her gaze and smiled. Her eyes darted from his to the others, as if she suddenly realized that she’d spoken. “That artifact was precious and priceless. Now it’s gone. We can only hope the Ghost Thief will remain true to his usual modus operandi and allow it to show up somewhere ordinary, like the second-hand charity store or a swap meet. It belongs in a museum, not a theater display case.”
Ransom gawked at his wife, amazed at her knowledge of the criminal investigation language. Modus operandi, indeed. “She’s right.”
He drew her close to him. She trembled with anger.
“Well,” Chief Farley turned to Tabor. “We shall search the charity stores and swap meets to see if the artifact shows up. And when it does, we’ll question the receiving party as to how they came to possess it.”
“That’s never worked before.” Tabor spat. “This thief
never leaves a trail, remember?”
“No,” Farley sighed. “But we’ve never been this close behind the Ghost Thief either.”
Ransom nodded. “We’ll start looking immediately.”
Laurel lifted her eyes to meet Ransom’s. Something lurked behind her passive gaze. But he couldn’t decipher what it was. Perhaps they could talk about it on their way to the charity shops. That and how she knew modus operandi.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“When this case is solved, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” Ransom walked casually along the boardwalk with Laurel, searching through each resale shop they came to.
“You’re assuming we will solve this case.”
“Yes, I am. Don’t you think we will?”
She shrugged, her eyes remained cast on the boards in front of her. “The Ghost Thief is awfully crafty, and careful. He’s never been caught before.”
“No, but he’s never had Pinkertons looking for him, either.”
“Pinkertons, plural?” She looked into his eyes. “Are you including me in that statement?”
“Well, you deserve the moniker. After all, you have been on top of every scenario we’ve encountered so far, except you seemed to be lost when we were discussing setting up the surveillance. But you do seem to be fluent with the language—modus operandi is not a common word among civilians.”
“Oh. Well, it is a common word among dime novels, and I told you they are my weakness.”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure you have a weakness, Mrs. Williams… except hunger.”
She snickered. “You. You are my—”
A loud voice drew her attention into a shop. “I’ll have you know” —there was no mistaking the voice— “this statue may not look like much, my good man, but it will bring you a lot of notoriety, and it most certainly is worth your time!”
Ransom leaned his head toward the entrance and the two of them walked in. The shop was dimly lit. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust. A small man behind the counter cringed as a tall, distinguished gentleman gripped his collar, pulling him to his toes, and fisting an object in his hand that was poised to punch the smaller man in his face.