Felicity Carrol and the Murderous Menace

by Patricia Marcantonio

  “I’m a married man. I don’t dally with other skirts.”

  She exhaled with patience. “This is not that kind of proposition, Mr. Sutton.”

  “Then let’s hear it.”

  “I must know the times and dates Reverend Phoenix leaves his church after dark. Your help will be amply rewarded. Is it possible to observe him without being seen?”

  “I’m here most days and live upstairs. I can take in everything from my bedroom window, both his front and back doors.”

  “And you don’t mind the night work?”

  “Don’t sleep much anymore. I’ve lived too long for it to do any good.”

  “Excellent. I’ll give you a notebook to write what you see, specifically times and dates,” She also presented him a fifty-dollar note. “And you must not speak of this to anyone.”

  He snatched the money as if it might disappear. “I won’t even tell my wife. She don’t need to know my business.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Why do you want to know the comings and goings of that man anyhow?” He raked coarse fingers over his whiskers.

  “I represent a family he might have wronged. I require proof of his guilt.”

  “Good enough for me.” Sutton patted the neck of a mare. “Come on, girl, we’re getting paid to keep an eye on the son of a bitch next door.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Electricity had not yet arrived in the Red District as it had other parts of the large town. As a result, the glow of kerosene lamps and candles began to appear in the windows of the shops, bars, and gambling houses lining its dirt roads as the sun dropped behind the mountain. Lively fiddle music started up in one of the saloons. Inside, men shouted conversations over the noise. Smoke emerged from gambling palaces like puffs from a young dragon. A hurdy-gurdy house sounded of a jig and feet stomping on floors. Felicity glanced inside the open doors as she passed in her wagon. Men danced with brightly daubed women, and other men danced with each other probably, because there were no more females available.

  Sheriff Tom Pike had warned her the place could be dangerous after sunset. Given the dubious men eyeing her, she contemplated whether she should have better heeded his words. But she wanted to see the streets at night, how the killer saw them.

  The Red District had transformed into a place of infinite gloom despite its attempts at merrymaking. Male customers were already knocking on the doors of the girls of the line. An older woman stood on a small porch and stretched. A cheap camisole and bloomers covered her voluptuous body. Outside another shack, the face of a younger girl was a decorated facade, a tired doll with scarlet lips and cheeks. Men staggered into and out of the several saloons and gambling houses along the street. Tinny music floated from brothels like a siren’s song.

  At the end of one building, the name MATTIE remained painted over the door. In the middle of another building were the names of Beth and Nellie. She hoped they would be safe.

  Turning the horses toward home, Felicity tugged on the reins at a noise.

  A woman yelped in pain. “Help!”

  The sound came from an alley between two of the buildings straight ahead. Stopping the wagon, Felicity grabbed the crossbow and flung the quiver of projectiles over one shoulder. She was incensed that other people on the street ignored the woman’s distressed cries. Loading the crossbow, she sprinted toward the woman’s calls. Pressing herself against the front of a building, she peeked around the corner into the alley. A man held his right arm over a young woman’s upper chest, pinning her to the wall. With his left hand, he outlined her face with the point of a knife. The man was dressed like a banker in a tidy brown suit, but packed it with bulk and sinew. His description matched that of the thug mentioned by the girls of the line. A member of the Midline Gang recruiting prostitutes with intimidation and threat.

  The woman’s body shook. Perspiration wet her forehead. “Please, don’t hurt me,” she pleaded.

  “I won’t hurt you, my little dove, not if you agree to work with us.” The man’s knife outlined the woman’s lips.

  “Don’t need no whoremaster taking my hard-earned money.” She immediately cowered at her bravery.

  “I prefer manager, even partner. We’ll treat you good.” With his left hand, he slid the knife point along the woman’s throat. “We’re businessmen who want to work with you and the other girls. What I’m offering is one good investment. Truly is. You get our protection. We get part of your earnings. You get to live. We get to let you live. The American way.”

  The woman whimpered.

  “Shut up!” The man’s shout blew back her hair. “I’ll give you a remembrance of what will happen if you don’t join us.” The woman screamed as the knife point drew a sliver of blood over her chest.

  Felicity ran into the alley. “Let her go.” She pointed the crossbow at the man’s heart.

  He wheeled in her direction, wearing a sneer cruel enough to wilt flowers. His shiny black hair was parted in the middle. A thick mustache obscured his entire lip. She had never seen such disdain on a face.

  “Who you supposed to be? Robin Hood?” he said.

  “That’s exactly who I am. Now release that woman.”

  “Let that woman go?” he said in a horrid imitation of her English accent. “What do you know? The British have arrived.” He pushed his arm tighter against the woman, causing increased sniveling and tears. He continued in a vicious voice. “We’re talking business. You’ll have your turn. And I’m not afraid of your little bow and arrow. Women can’t shoot for shit.”

  Felicity aimed and fired. The bolt passed so close to the man’s head, she swore it grazed his cowlick. As the bolt stuck in the wall, she reloaded, beating her record.

  The man dropped his arm, and his hand went to his head as if he expected to find a projectile embedded there. The young woman scampered off into the night. His angry face was as terrifying as his knife. “Ha, you missed.”

  “A warning shot. The next one won’t be.”

  The man marched toward her. Too late she noticed his eyes darting to the left. Someone seized her right arm tight to make her release the weapon. The crossbow fell. Her dress ripped at the sleeves. The unseen man seized her left arm and held them both behind her back. She gasped at his strength and was irritated she hadn’t looked around for the first man’s accomplice. Beth, Nellie, and Pike’s informant had all mentioned two men threatening women. Some savior, Felicity Carrol.

  “You got lots of spirit. I like that. Your customers must pay a lot,” said the burly man with the mustache.

  “I’m not a prostitute. Even if I were, you and your cowardly friend would never be allowed through my door.” Although panicked, she needed her concentration and wit. These men wanted to hear her scream and cower. They wanted to feel power over her. She wouldn’t oblige, which might discombobulate them enough to attempt an escape.

  She spoke in a contemptuous tone. “Using a knife against women is probably the sole way to demonstrate you are men. Outwardly, you’re rank and uncouth. Underneath, you’re weak and stupid. The worst example of manhood I’ve ever encountered.”

  “I’ll show you who’s a man.” Snorting venom and the smell of onions, he clutched her cheeks and aimed his tongue at her mouth.

  “If you place that thing in me, I’ll bite it off and spit it on the ground.” She was surprised those words came out of her, but she was mad about his assault on the woman and upon her. She fought against the grip of the silent second man.

  The burly man withdrew his tongue back into his mouth. “Ben, we’re going to have to teach this gal some manners.”

  “Yeah, let’s teach her.” His partner’s breath made Felicity’s eyes water.

  “You got a disrespectful mouth.” The burly man flipped his knife with his left hand and caught the blade by the tip in front of her face.

  An iron knife. Single-bladed, thick, and nicked. Attached to a wooden handle, the blade was almost two inches wide and at least eight inches tall. This was not the w
eapon that had killed Lily Rawlins and Mattie Morgan.

  The burly man leaned in close to her face and smirked. “Still, you are pretty. I may want to keep you for myself.”

  “Cleaning a pig sty is more desirable. Now do your worst, barbarians. You won’t hear me scream. In fact, I’ll laugh at you.”

  From the brief confusion on the big man’s face, he hadn’t expected that response. She prepared for the knife. Her body constricted in anticipation of a blade and an end to her new beginning.

  “Let her go,” said Sheriff Tom Pike.

  The pressure on her arms loosened. She pivoted around.

  With his Colt, Pike struck the head of the second assailant. A bald hulk of a man in a black coat, green plaid vest, and striped pants hit the ground. Pike pointed his gun at the bigger man holding the knife.

  “If you hadn’t been talking, I couldn’t have gotten the drop on them,” the sheriff told Felicity. “Thank you.”

  Pike had insulted her, but she wasn’t irate. She scooped up her loaded crossbow and aimed at the bald man who sat on the dirt rubbing his head.

  “Throw down the knife or I’ll blow a hole in your hand.” Pike cocked his gun at the burly man.

  “You don’t scare me, Mr. Law.”

  “Then how come I can hear your knees knocking?”

  The man dropped the knife.

  The sheriff ordered the men to stand against the wall and tossed two sets of metal handcuffs at their feet. “Put ’em on. You’re under arrest for assaulting this young woman.”

  “She shot an arrow at me.” The big man motioned his head to the one stuck in the wall behind.

  “It’s called a bolt. Sheriff, I did so because he was attacking a woman. He cut her chest with that knife.” Felicity straightened her clothing.

  “Where is she?”

  “The woman ran away after I appeared. But I’ll sign a statement about what I witnessed and how they threatened me and the other woman.”

  “Good enough,” Pike said.

  “Ain’t good enough for us,” spat the burly man.

  “Shut your mouth,” Pike said.

  After the men were handcuffed, the sheriff removed guns stuck in their belts under their coats, along with a truncheon in the jacket of the bald man. Pike shook his head as he packed their weapons in his saddlebag.

  “This is a rough town. We’re protecting ourselves,” the burly man said.

  “You have enough weapons here to hold off an army.”

  “That woman approached me to have a good time.” The man flashed a gold tooth in front.

  In two strides, Pike put his hand around the man’s throat. “You disparage her name one more time, I’ll take off my badge, beat the hell out of you, and then your partner just for good measure.”

  The power of Pike’s threat made the men recoil and Felicity jolt. His attractiveness had increased tenfold. Blast. The sheriff’s charm had sneaked up and held her like an amiable summer evening. She’d be thinking about him that night—against her will.

  She tightened her hold on the crossbow.

  Stop it, Felicity, you’re no damsel in distress, she told herself. It’s merely western chivalry. Remember, the last man you felt drawn to turned out to be a murderer.

  “You all right?” Pike asked her.

  “As rain, Sheriff,” she said with composure. While she couldn’t escape his allure, she could deal with it. With the sheriff’s horse tied to the wagon, Felicity drove behind Pike as he walked the two men to the jail. She had one hand on the reins and another on the crossbow on her lap in case the men gave the sheriff any problems. The men glared at anyone who looked at them on the street and spit. Now that the danger had passed, Felicity’s heartbeat accelerated with relief, so much so that she swore Pike might hear the thuds. After they traveled a few streets, they met one of Pike’s deputies, who helped escort the men.

  The red-brick jail stood behind the courthouse. As the men were led away to the cells, the big man gaped at Felicity. “We’ll see you soon, Miss Robin Hood.”

  “You even think about her and you’re dead,” Pike answered, as dangerous as his Colt.

  Within an hour, the sheriff sat behind the large wooden desk in his office while Felicity gave her statement to a deputy, who wrote down everything in what she considered first-rate penmanship. She signed the paper and the deputy left, closing the door behind him.

  “Want to tell me what you were doing in the Red District? And with a crossbow?” Pike said.

  She glanced at her watch. “My word. Eight o’clock. Helen must be frantic.”

  “I sent a deputy to tell her you were safe.”

  “I appreciate that.” Her hair in disarray, Felicity took out the pins and let it fall. “By the way, how did you find me?”

  “I went to see you, and Helen told me where you were headed. Luckily, I arrived in time.”

  “I’m perfectly able to take care of myself.”

  “You were doing a damn poor job. I had to save you from those men.”

  Felicity disliked Pike’s condescending attitude. His charm diminished at that moment. Primarily, she was exasperated at having to be saved. “Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome, dammit!”

  “No need to curse.”

  “You’re upsetting everything you touch.”

  “The only thing I appear to be upsetting is you. Besides, I was close to freeing myself from that entanglement before you arrived.”

  “You’ve done nothing but cause trouble since you stopped in my town. Nosing around, asking too many questions, going where you shouldn’t go.” Pike stood up.

  So did Felicity. “You should have been asking those questions about the murders.”

  “I have been. You just haven’t noticed because you think you’re right all the time.”

  “Well, I am right.” Their tempers expanded with each statement. “Those men are members of the Midline Gang. They’re trying to take control of the prostitute trade in Placer. They were recruiting that girl when I came onto the scene.”

  “I know that.”

  “Beth Ray talked about them at luncheon. She said Mattie Morgan was afraid of them also.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you mention this before now?”

  “There hasn’t been much time.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “I should have told you, Sheriff.” She meant it, but she fussed with the torn sleeves on her dress.

  Pike came around to the front of the desk and crossed his arms. “Those men killed Big Lil and Mattie Morgan because the women refused to cooperate.”

  “Your conclusion is entirely incorrect.”

  Pike huffed. “The man with the knife used his left hand. Our killer is left-handed. That’s what you said.”

  “True, but the knife he put in my face had a single-edged blade. The knife used on Lily Rawlins and Mattie Morgan was thin and double-edged. I must also point out that the man’s blade was wider and longer and wouldn’t have matched the wounds on the victims. Just check the postmortem report. Besides, it’s illogical for men who want to make money from prostitutes to kill their inventory, so to speak.”

  Pike leaned against his desk. His eyes didn’t leave her face, and his stare seemed strong enough to hold her to the spot. “Why’d you really come to Placer? And don’t give me the I-am-a-writer horse bunk. I know people, and I know you’re lying every time you open your pretty mouth.”

  “My reasons are personal.”

  “When it comes to murder, nothing is personal.”

  Felicity began to tremble and put her arms around herself. Lying to Pike was tiring, and the attack had frightened her.

  “You’re shaking,” he said with care, as if a bit of his anger had subsided.

  “They tore my favorite dress.” She did lie again.

  With great tenderness, he rubbed her arms. Putting her head against his chest, Felicity was tempted to close her eyes and sleep. He smelled of horses and tobacco. His rough fingers to
uched her skin where her dress had torn, and the trembling lessened. Astonishing.

  “You’ve been through a lot today. Never saw a woman so brave.”

  What was it she heard in his voice now? Was that admiration? She began to perspire from its tenderness. She needed to get the blazes out of that office and fast.

  “Better?” he said.

  “So stupid of me to quake like a scared child.”

  “Yes, but understandable.” He sat her back in the chair. “Now, why did you travel thousands of miles to this godforsaken town?”

  “Sheriff Tom Pike, you are formidable.”

  “You can trust me, Felicity.” He took her hands.

  Her bones weighed as much as the mountains around Placer. For the sake of her investigation, she had to trust him. If she told him the truth, he might extend her more cooperation. Either that or send her packing. Yet she had to take the chance. Arguing with him was exhausting, and she’d rather place her energies in the investigation.

  She sat up. “You’re correct. I’m no writer. I didn’t come here to research a book.”

  He grinned with apparent satisfaction.

  “But I’m also very fatigued.” Rising out of the chair, she straightened her dress.

  “Where you going?”

  “It’s late. I’ll tell you all tomorrow when we’ve both had some rest.” She always resisted using her gender to get her way and hoped this western sheriff would give her the night. She did need sleep and hadn’t had a restful one for several nights.

  “All right, then. Tomorrow.”

  Felicity opened the door. “I will say one thing tonight. One reason I came here was to help a friend.”

  “Must be a good one to come all this way.”

  Her throat constricted with the startling reminder of him. His illness. His friendship. “He is. His name is Scotland Yard inspector Jackson Griggs Davies.”

  * * *

  Although it was nearly midnight, lights welcomed Felicity back to the house on Bullion Boulevard. Pike rode his horse as she drove the wagon. He didn’t say anything, and for the first time in their acquaintance, neither did she.

  They drove down Main Avenue, which was lit by electric lights. Echoes of an Irish tune arose from a bar on the corner. Riders on horses, people in carriages, and those walking out of nearby restaurants and the theater flowed along the street. It was an easy and optimistic atmosphere. Felicity watched Pike, now stoic as the limestone walls of the courthouse. His eyes still sought out his father’s killer among every face he passed.