An Agent for Hazel

by P. Creeden

She wasn’t sure why she felt that way, but she did.

  * * *

  Sam Shelby felt Hazel’s fingers on his forearm as they walked down the streets of Denver. Her touch was delicate but she gripped his arm enough that he felt that she was, at least, not repulsed by him. He swallowed hard. It wasn’t an acceptance, but it wasn’t a rejection and that much he appreciated. Her rosewater and talcum scent surrounded him, making his heart race just a bit. He still wasn’t sure why he was already affected by a woman that he’d only barely met and had decided was too young for him.

  “Oh!” she said as she stumbled and gripped his arm tighter against her body to catch herself.

  Had he thought his heart was racing before? He was wrong, for now it raced twice as fast in the presence of her warmth. He worried that she might even be able to hear it. She kept her grip on him a wee bit tighter than it had been before although his arm wasn’t against her body any longer than it had needed to be. When they reached the station, Sam opened the door for her to enter in and she released his arm. He already missed the heat of her fingers. He cleared his throat. “One of us should go and speak to the porter and the other, the conductor. I believe that because the conductor is used to dealing with female passengers and people of class a bit more often, he will be the better choice for you to questions. Find out if he saw anything or if he knows of anyone who did.”

  Hazel nodded and the started in the direction of the ticket window. Sam couldn’t help but watch her go, feeling the slightest bit of longing in his heart. He blinked hard and shook his head. Somehow since he’d been in her presence the constant feeling of melancholy that plagued him for years subsided. He just didn’t think about it and somehow it seemed to go away for it. His hands fisted as he was tempted to look after her once more. No. He needed to keep his mind on his mission. He approached the porters who leaned against the side of a stationary train car. “Hello. I’d like to speak with any of you who were here at the arrival of the eleven a.m. train this morning.”

  The eldest of the porters frowned. “What’s this about? We already talked to the coppers. Who are you?”

  Sam pulled his badge from his breast pocket and flashed it toward the porter whose eyes widened a bit. With a nod, Sam said, “I’m Sam Shelby with with the Pinkerton Detective agency. I’ve been hired to find out what I can about who the villain in the shooting incident might be. I will then work with the police to make sure that the person of interest is brought to justice.”

  “There were a few fancy words in there that I’m not sure George, here, could understand. Isn’t that right, George?” the eldest porter said with a laugh and tapped the back of a younger porter’s head.

  Immediately, Sam recognized George as the same porter who had been helping Mr. Lockwood when he was shot. The boys were crude and rude to each other, and Sam felt better about his decision to send Hazel in a different direction. These weren’t the kind of young men that Hazel needed to get involved with. Sam met eyes with George. “You were with the man who was shot, right?”

  Wrinkles formed in George’s brow. “You were there, too, weren’t you? Why were you there if a crime hadn’t been committed yet.”

  Waving his hand in dismissal, Sam said, “I was here in conjunction with another case.”

  “Then did you see anything, because I didn’t,” George said, but his gaze immediately went down. The boy was lying. Why would he not want to tell Sam everything that had happened. Was he protecting someone? Did he know the shooter personally? Sam needed to find a way to get the boy to talk. He frowned.

  “Hello, there, boys,” a lilting voice said from just behind Sam.

  All the porters suddenly stopped slouching and stood up straight their eyes fixed on the origin of the voice. He turned and found Hazel smiling at the porters in a way that made his own breath hitch. Did he say that she was comely and handsome... no. Hazel Lockwood was stunning when she smiled. She tilted her head and then chewed her lip just a bit, her eyes turning sad. “Is there any chance I could ask one of you boys to give me a hand?”

  Each of them pushed the other aside as they vied for her attention and the chance to help her. The eldest of the porters said, “I’ll help you miss. The rest of these boys are much too weak busy to be of any help.”

  Then Hazel shook her head and pointed directly at the one named George. “I need your help, if you have the time.” And then she pouted.

  Her lower lip stuck out in such a manner that made Sam’s eyes draw toward it and his heart pounded in his chest. Then he suddenly realized that all the other boys were staring at the same thing he was and a feeling akin to jealousy rose up in him. And instantly he didn’t want anyone else to help her. But as George stepped forward and offered her an elbow, she giggled and her smile returned, freezing Sam in his tracks.

  The two of them started for the door of the station and Sam had to literally shake himself from his stupor and follow the two of them. By the time they’d stepped outside, he was just behind them. George looked about, confused for a moment. Then he asked, “Where’s your luggage, miss?”

  She shook her head, her eyes still giving off that flirtatious feeling, but it was a bit more serious than it had been before. Her sudden coldness made a shiver run down Sam’s spine, too. “That’s not the kind of help I need, George. What I need is for you to tell Mr. Shelby, the Pinkerton Agent here, all that you saw earlier today. You weren’t being entirely truthful when you’d said you didn’t see anything, right? A girl always knows when she’s being lied to. It’s disappointing. And you wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?”

  George’s body stiffened, his gaze darting between both Sam and Hazel. “Um... well... I didn’t really see the shooting when it happened, but I did see a man stuff something into his coat and rush in the opposite direction from the rest of the crowd.”

  Sam smiled, suddenly seeing the benefit of having a female agent as a partner. Perhaps this would be more of a benefit than a detriment. “That’s good enough for me. Could you please tell me what he looked like?”

  “He was a thin gentleman in a gray beard. His coat had suede patches on the arms.”

  Sam frowned. “A hunting jacket? What color?”

  “Brown, but it had stripes... or it might have been a checked pattern.”

  His frown deepened. “How old would you say the man was?”

  George shrugged. “I don’t know. Forty maybe? He looked older than my father, but younger than my grandfather.”

  “Anything else that you could remember that would distinguish him from other people?” Sam asked, leaning in slightly.

  For a long moment George sat still and then he nodded. “Just before he went out of my sight, I saw that he had a round hat that he put on his head... I forgot what they’re called, but people don’t wear them too often.”

  “Round? Do you mean a bowler?” Hazel asked.

  The boy snapped his fingers, a smile coming to his lips. “Yes. That’s what it’s called.”

  A man in a hunting jacket and bowler. That was unusual, to say the least. If Sam didn’t know any better, he’d think he was searching for a British man. How many British men could there be in Denver?

  Hazel leaned in toward George and offered him that stunning smile again. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Chapter 9

  “Do you think the man could be British?” Hazel asked as she took Mr. Shelby’s arm and the two of them started up the street again. In the west the sun cut at just the right angle to make it so that she had to squint when she looked Mr. Shelby’s direction.

  But he seemed to notice and stopped, stepping into the sun so that he put her into his shadow. “I had the same thoughts. It’s not often that a man would dress in such a fashion.”

  “No,” Hazel said, shaking her head. “And I would venture to say that he was a man of means. Even in Britain, it’s only the upper class that wear hunting jackets.”

  Her shoulders drooped as she relaxed a bit and sighed.
r />   “What’s wrong?” Mr. Shelby asked, brow furrowing.

  She shook her head and straightened. “No. It’s nothing... It’s just that I’d never used my feminine wiles in that manner before. I’d seen my sister, Ruby, do it, so I mimicked her, but I wasn’t entirely sure that it would work, since Ruby is quite beautiful.”

  His eyes went wide and then he cleared his throat and looked away. “You could of surprised me that you’d not used that act before... and you are quite beautiful, yourself.”

  The last few words were said in a lower, quieter tone, and Hazel wasn’t quite certain that she’d heard him correctly, but when she looked at his profile, she found that his face had flushed and the tips of his ears had gained a bit of red tint. She flushed herself. Did Mr. Shelby find her beautiful? Somehow that pleased her and made her stomach queasy at the same time. Butterflies. They crowded her stomach.

  Then Mr. Shelby cleared his throat again and offered his arm, not quite meeting her gaze. “Right then. We should go and see if we could discover who this British man could be. Does your father have dealings with many in British society?”

  She shook her head as she took his arm. “Not that I know about.”

  “Then we should see your father in the hospital. Will your mother be there as well? Even though it is a stretch, if your father doesn’t know anyone, your mother might.”

  Hazel frowned. Her mother didn’t do much except take care of their household and bake things for the bakery back home. Hazel didn’t know if her mother would continue to bake when she came to Denver, but regardless, she wasn’t the kind to know many men in town. Her mother always kept a proprietorial distance from the opposite sex, as any lady should. Was Mr. Shelby suggesting something else? Hazel raised a brow at him. At the same moment, he peered down and their eyes met. His eyes widened again as though he could read her mind.

  “I was not suggesting that your mother... That is to say, I do not know your mother or your family situation. I wasn’t trying to suggest that your mother would be the kind of woman to...” His face flushed again as he grew flustered.

  Hazel couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head. “It’s all right, Mr. Shelby. I know you meant know harm.”

  The relief he showed was immediate and immense. She tilted her head at him even though he still looked in the direction they were going. He was different from what she’d imagined him when they’d started this case. She’d found him a striking and composed older gentleman. But now she found in him a friend and confident. She felt safe with him, both physically and emotionally. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and somehow she found him easy to read in that way. She liked that. Men like Mr. Brown were full of lies and guile, but Mr. Shelby was a totally different kind of gentleman, and Hazel liked it.

  When they reached the hospital, they talked to the nurse and then went to visit her father’s private room. Hazel had rarely seen her father wearing anything but a smart suit for her whole life. To see him in bed, shirtless with a bandage over his chest and shoulder, it was akin to being struck. Her body stung and her stomach twisted at the paleness of his face. Mother sat in a chair beside him on the other side of the bed. When Hazel and Mr. Shelby came in, he focused on them, his eyes showing that his mind was as sharp as ever. He lifted a brow when he saw her standing close to Mr. Shelby. The two of them stepped apart from each other right away.

  Mr. Shelby cleared his throat. “I hope that you are doing well, Mr. Lockwood?”

  Father looked between Hazel and Mr. Shelby once more. “As well as can be expected. A bit sore, for certain.”

  “Good,” Mr. Shelby said with a nod. “Will you be all right if I ask you a few questions?”

  His eyes darted between them again. “What is all this about?”

  Hazel sat in the chair beside her mother as her mother explained that she’d hired the Pinkerton Detective Agency to look into who had shot Father. Then Mr. Shelby went about explaining what they had learned thus far and finally asked Father if he knew anyone who might be British.

  “Well,” Father said. “The man who is doing the construction work for the new bank is British, but I can’t imagine why he’d want to harm me.”

  “There are people in this world who cannot be explained and there are others who have their own reasons for situations such as these. Any case, let us go and talk to this gentleman. Could you give us his name and where we might find him?”

  “We?” Father asked as Hazel drew to her feet. Suddenly she felt much like she did when she was a child and she and her sisters had been caught in something they shouldn’t have been doing.

  Mr. Shelby met eyes with her a moment and then nodded slightly. Then he smiled politely and said, “I’ve asked Miss Lockwood, your daughter, to help with the case as she knows you and your situation better than anyone else.”

  Father’s brow furrowed a bit as he narrowed his eyes at Hazel. Finally, he said, “Do be sure to take good care of my daughter. She is one of my three greatest treasures.”

  “Of course, sir.” Mr. Shelby stood and gave her father a bow.

  “Right then. The name of the construction company is Duffy Brothers Limited. I believe that the fellow who I had most of my contact with is Mr. Reginald Duffy, himself. He’s a British ex-patriot as far as I know.”

  Mr. Shelby raised a brow but nodded. “I will report back our findings.”

  Father tilted his head a bit, this time pinning Mr. Shelby in his gaze. “I don’t mind you including my daughter in this venture, but I’m not sure if I am fond of the way that you’ve connected her with yourself so intimately. Do not forget that she is an unwed lady and she is to be treated with a certain level of decorum.”

  “Yes, sir. This is Pinkerton business, and we live by the code. Your daughter and I are not courting, sir.”

  Disappointment struck Hazel and that feeling surprised her. Why did she feel an ache in her heart that Mr. Shelby had said they weren’t courting? And why did she feel this way at all? He was right. This was just business.

  “Very well,” Father said and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the bed’s metal headboard again. She’d never seen her father look so vulnerable and tired. Part of her wanted to stay and help her mother care for him. But when she glanced her mother’s direction, she found Mother smiling and nodding toward her. “Do be safe,” was all that she’d said in a manner of dismissal.

  When Hazel bid her father farewell, Father lifted an arm in a wave, but didn’t open his eyes again. His body sagged a bit, pale and tired-looking. It was to be expected after all that he’d gone through earlier that day. Hazel nodded a thanks to Mr. Shelby as he held the door open for her again. Then they started making their way down the hospital corridor. “Mr. Duffy, then?”

  Mr. Shelby nodded. “Yes. I know exactly where the company is. The agency had some dealings with them in the past, but I’ve never met them.”

  A frown tugged at Hazel’s lip. “I suppose they weren’t good dealings then?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all.”

  * * *

  Visiting Reginald Duffy had been a dead end. The man wasn’t tall and thin as the porter had described, and his neatly trimmed mustache was as dark as Sam’s own hair. Hazel had been polite and perfectly proper with the gentleman, and when they’d finished, he seemed to be as enamored with the girl as Sam was becoming, himself. In fact, nearly everyone they met seemed to take an immediate liking to her. As they stepped out of the construction office door and back onto the street a golden hue covered everything due to the setting sun. He turned toward her. “Are you hungry? We could get something to eat.”

  Using the back of her hand, she stifled a yawn. “Oh. Excuse me.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. Today has been quite a long day and you have only just arrived from traveling. Usually people rest on the day of travel.”

  She huffed a laugh. “There certainly wasn’t much of that today. But to answer your original question, I am hungry, but I think tha
t it would be best for me to find something that I can take back to my mother and father. I’m not sure how well they’ve eaten today either.”

  “Well.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. For some reason it hurt his heart to think of being parted from her. “Maybe we could go back to the Agency. Pearl is likely to have something ready on the stove, and she’d be happy to prepare something for you to take back with you to your parents.”

  Her eyes twinkled as she smiled wide. “Are you sure? You don’t think she’d mind?”

  Heat rushed to his cheeks at how she looked. With the golden glow of sunset surrounding her, that innocence that she exuded became quite angelic. He shook his head and pulled his gaze away from her before he did something crazy, like embrace her. “No, I don’t believe she’d mind at all. Pearl cooks generously.”

  “All right, then. I shall accept your offer.” With a smile she took his elbow before he’d even offered it to her. It was a comfortable movement, one that she didn’t seem to put much thought into. He liked how it seemed that they didn’t need that awkward distance between them the way that strangers do. No, Hazel didn’t feel like a stranger to him. He felt as if she’d known her for much longer than a day. It was a feeling of closeness that he didn’t remember feeling with another woman before. And as they walked toward the agency arm-in-arm, Sam’s mind wasn’t on the case at all, but instead upon the heat of her fingertips in the crook of his arm once more. He could live with this feeling for quite a while. What would he do once the case was over?

  Just as they rounded the corner on the way to the agency, Sam caught the sound of feet shuffling on the sidewalk behind him. He turned toward the sound, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. But just as he turned about, he found the flash of metal as a gun was drawn from the man’s breast pocket.

  Chapter 10

  Without sparing a thought, Sam shoved Hazel behind him, then he reached for his own pistol but it was too late. The man had already brandished his weapon and pointed the pistol in Sam’s face. He peered down at the man with the gun, seeing the brown tweed jacket and gray beard. Even if he couldn’t see suede patches on the man’s elbows, he was certain that they would be there.