The Black Midnight

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  He chuckled. “That isn’t necessary.”

  She reached over to grasp his wrist. “Isaiah Joplin, if you do not stop this carriage immediately, I will jump out, I promise you.”

  One look at her told him she probably would. “All right. I’ll stop, but you do not have to bring gifts.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “And we will just have to agree to disagree on this. You’ll have to come in with me. I don’t have a clue what Miss Hattie and your father would like, so I will need your help.”

  Once inside Slanton’s Department Store, with its Christmas decorations proudly on display, Annie grasped his wrist and hauled him over to the men’s department. “What do you think?” she asked. “A tie for your father or cuff links?”

  “Cuff links,” he said and then watched her choose a pair with the insignia of the university on them. “He will love those,” Ike said when she held them up for his inspection.

  Annie handed the cuff links to the clerk. “Wrap these, please. I have another gift to buy.” Then she was off again with Ike doing his best to keep up. After much debate on Annie’s part and a lot of nodding on Ike’s, Annie sent a pin in the shape of a shamrock and a matching scarf off to be wrapped for Miss Hattie.

  When that was done, Annie turned to face Ike. “Now you have to leave.”

  “Leave? As in you’ve changed your mind and aren’t coming to Christmas Eve?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  The clerk behind Annie grinned. Then she gestured to the wrapping paper and ribbons in front of her. Ike had no clue what that meant, but apparently the clerk thought it was important.

  Ike frowned. The clerk once again gestured toward the gift wrap.

  “Isaiah?” Annie said. “Is something wrong?”

  “Wrong?” He tore his attention away from the odd motions the clerk was making to focus on Annie. “No, nothing is wrong. Look, I’ll just go let the clerk know that she can bring the packages out to the carriage when they’re wrapped. You go do whatever it is you need to do.”

  Annie cast a glance over at the clerk. The moment she did, the woman behind the counter went back to wrapping gifts as if she hadn’t just been trying to send some odd signal to Ike.

  “All right,” she said. “Go straight to the carriage and do not come back in here.”

  “Why?”

  “Christmas surprises, Isaiah. Just do it, please?”

  “All right.” He watched her hurry off and then quickly made his way over to the counter where the clerk was still staring.

  “Good,” she told him. “You got my hint. What will you be buying for her?”

  “Hint? That’s what you were doing?”

  She frowned. “I was trying to remind you to buy the lady a gift.”

  “Oh no, we’re not exchanging gifts,” he said. “She’s just buying my father and the housekeeper something to thank them for inviting her to join us tonight.”

  The clerk stared. Ike stared.

  “I should get her something, shouldn’t I?”

  She nodded. “Something nice.”

  His eyes widened. “Like what?”

  “What does she like, sir?”

  He looked around the ladies’ department and then back at the clerk. “I have no idea.”

  The woman let out a long breath. “I could find out for you. Without her realizing, of course.”

  “You could do that?” He nodded. “Yes, absolutely. Pick out something nice and put it on my bill. Isaiah Joplin.” He told her the address.

  “Yes, I recognize you,” she said. “You’re the Pinkerton detective.”

  “One of them,” he told her. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Lucy. I’ll see that you get her something nice. Just one question. Is she a wife, girlfriend, or friend?”

  “Friend,” he reluctantly said. “We work together, else she might fit into one of the other categories.”

  Lucy grinned. “All right. I’ll see what I can find for your friend and have it delivered.”

  “Thank you,” he told her. “And Merry Christmas!” Then he froze. “Oh. I have a housekeeper. I need to get her something.”

  “What does she like?”

  “She likes to smell nice,” he said.

  “So perfume.”

  “Yes, good. And my father. I ought to buy for him too. What do you have for a man who does nothing but work?”

  “Something for his desk? Maybe a new pen?”

  “Yes, pen it is.”

  The clerk nodded. “I’ll have them wrapped and delivered.”

  “Thank you.” He paused to glance around but did not immediately see Annie. Then he turned back to the clerk. “Something nice for her too. And on second thought, let’s put her into that middle category, all right? A man can hope.”

  “Yes, he can,” she said. “Do you have a tree? Mr. Slanton still has a few left out back.”

  “I believe we’re all set in that department. Thank you though.”

  Lucy grinned. “Merry Christmas then, Detective Joplin.”

  “Merry Christmas, Lucy.”

  Ike made his way back to the carriage and waited for Annie’s return. The wind had picked up, and the air smelled like rain. If the cook from next door was right, they had an hour, maybe two, before the blue norther blew through.

  Annie stepped out of the store, her arms empty of any gifts. He jumped down to help her into the carriage. “Did you change your mind?”

  She shook her head. “The clerk said she could deliver the packages since they had a delivery going out in the neighborhood soon. I thought that was best.”

  “Yes, good idea.” He picked up the reins and gave her a sideways look. “Hold on tight, Annie, it’s getting windy.”

  Then he chased the weather home, pulling the carriage into the stables just before the air turned frigid. Across the way, the neighbor’s cook was wrapped in a quilt and standing outside looking up at the sky. She glanced over at Ike and nodded.

  “Gonna be a cold one tonight. Snow too, I believe. Several inches.”

  He couldn’t recall the last time there had been several inches of snow in Austin at Christmastime. Or at any other time, for that matter. Still, he’d been raised to be polite.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ike said to her for lack of any better response.

  Only the servants came to the back door, his housekeeper insisted, so everyone else who arrived here had to make the trek to the front of the house rather than take the shortened route that led through the kitchen.

  It was a silly requirement of Miss Hattie’s, but he accommodated her all the same. Again, he had been raised to be polite. And it had been Miss Hattie who had done most of the raising.

  The house was aglow with lights, and Ike spied their future Christmas tree waiting in a bucket of water beside the back door.

  Annie followed Ike around to the front of the house and then stopped. “It looks so pretty all lit up, Isaiah. Look at it.”

  He did and saw nothing other than what the home usually looked like at this time of the day. “Miss Hattie likes her lamps,” he said. “She claims she needs all the light she can get to finish her work. I just think she likes things bright.”

  “Well, so do I,” Annie exclaimed. “And this is just lovely.”

  An icy wind tore between them, lifting the ribbons on her cloak. “It’s not so lovely out here, Annie. Let’s get you inside before the snow starts.”

  She giggled. “I am sure your neighbor is a very nice lady, but do you think she knows enough about the weather to predict snow? It seems rather unlikely in this part of the country, although it would be wonderful if it did.”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see. Miss Hattie sets great store by the weather predicting that goes on over on the other side of the fence.”

  “Then I shall as well. I’ll be looking forward to the snow.”

  The front door flew open, and Miss Hattie stood there with a broad grin. “Merry Christmas, you two! Get yourself in the
house soon before you catch your death of cold. There’s weather coming in, and I do not plan to let it into the house, so let’s get that door closed fast.”

  True to her word, the housekeeper stepped back and closed the door, leaving them standing on the porch.

  Ike leaned toward Annie. “Welcome to Miss Hattie’s house. The rest of us just live here.”

  She laughed, and it took everything in him not to kiss her right there. Then he looked up to see that Miss Hattie had hung mistletoe overhead.

  Annie had seen the mistletoe before Isaiah did, and she could have avoided standing beneath it. Should have, actually. But it was Christmas Eve. And Isaiah Joplin was the only man she could think of whom she would want to kiss beneath the mistletoe.

  Though she absolutely shouldn’t. They were fellow Pinkerton detectives working on a matter of the utmost importance. The last thing they needed to do was share a kiss.

  Especially with a man her family would heartily disapprove of, not because of his reputation or character—both of which were stellar—but because he was American.

  And worse, Texan.

  She’d determined she wouldn’t kiss him on the first day they were together at the governor’s party. Annie was a woman who kept to her decisions once they had been made.

  Glancing around, she took note of her surroundings. The rain splattered on the lawn and pinged an uneven cadence on the porch’s roof.

  Father could be on his way to Austin at this very moment. What would he think to find her like this?

  “Annie?”

  She looked up into Isaiah’s eyes. Took note of his grin. Felt her resolve crumble.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said as his lips touched hers.

  A moment later, though it felt like an eternity, Isaiah was smiling down at her again. She should have had something brilliant to say, something befitting the circumstances.

  Instead, all she could manage was a whispered, “Yes, isn’t it just?”

  “I’ve waited too long to kiss you, Annie,” he said softly.

  “We shouldn’t, Detective.”

  “No,” he said, his lips so near to her ear that she shivered. “We shouldn’t, Detective. Kiss me again anyway.”

  So she did.

  Eventually the door opened again, whether by Isaiah’s hand or some other way, and Annie felt herself float inside. It was an odd sensation of coming home mixed with a tinge of dread at where she might be headed.

  Chapter 13

  Ike wrapped his hand around Annie’s and led her toward Miss Hattie’s kitchen, following the trail of a delicious mix of scents. The smell of cinnamon and brown sugar floated up from the oven that kept the room at a cozy temperature, while more savory smells emanated from the pots on the stove. A freshly baked loaf of bread sat cooling on the sideboard.

  It was what heaven must smell like. Of this, Ike was pretty sure.

  “It’s about time you two came inside,” the queen of this domain said as she gave them both appraising looks. “Miss Walters, I need to show you to your room.” She looked around. “Did you bring a bag?”

  “I left it on the porch,” Ike said with a groan. “I’ll go get it.”

  He loped past Annie to retrace his steps to the front door. Just before he opened it, someone knocked.

  Ike recognized the man as the clerk from Annie’s hotel. “Telegram came for Miss Walters,” he explained. “She left word to forward all correspondence to this address until she returns.”

  He accepted the telegram and then reached into his pocket and offered a coin to the clerk. The young man tipped his hat and stepped off the porch into the rain. Ike watched him go and retrieved Annie’s bag. Before he could return to the warmth of Miss Hattie’s kitchen, he spied what appeared to be a messenger coming his way.

  “Looking for Miss Walters and Mr. Joplin,” the fellow called from beneath the covering of the buggy. “Got packages for them from Slanton’s Department Store.”

  “Yes, just a minute.” Ike set down the bag and raced through the rain to retrieve the packages. “Don’t get ’em wet,” the older gentleman warned. “Else that clerk Lucy will have my hide.”

  “Yes, all right.” He leaned in to accept the packages. “Just give me a second, and I’ll put these on the porch and come back with a tip for you.”

  The fellow grinned. “No need, son. I own the place. Everyone else went home for the day.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Slanton. I appreciate you delivering these, and while I have you here, I’d like to put in a good word for your clerk Lucy. She was a great help to me today.”

  “Good to know,” he said. “I’ll be sure to let her know I appreciate her.”

  “Yes, thank you. Can I at least offer a hot cup of coffee before you go?”

  “My daughter’s got that waiting for me at home. And likely a tree to decorate, else I’d take you up on it just to spend time with Hattie. She’s something else.” He chuckled. “My girl, though, she sweetens the pot with cookies, so I don’t mind it so much. You have a merry Christmas, son, and tell Miss Hattie I wish her the same. I slipped a gift to her in with your packages, so if you could make sure it’s delivered to her, I’d appreciate it.”

  “No problem. And merry Christmas to you and your family too,” he told Mr. Slanton before hurrying back to the porch.

  Slinging the straps of Annie’s bag over his shoulder, Ike tucked the smaller packages into his jacket pocket and balanced the rest of them under his left arm. With his right arm, he somehow managed to open the door.

  Unfortunately, Alfie had decided to take his nap at the door—his favorite spot—so opening it caused him to yelp and jump up. Ike’s legs got tangled up, and he landed in a pile of Christmas presents and giant dog.

  Miss Hattie stood over him, a wooden spoon dangling from the hand that was not resting on her hip. “What in the world are you doing, Ikey? I just sent you out to get the bag.”

  “And I got it. Plus a few other things. Tell me again why you taught that dog to sleep against doors? It is downright annoying.”

  He heard giggling and looked up to the top of the stairs where Annie was seated. “What’s so funny?” he called up to her.

  “I remember when my uncle would play Santa for the children on Christmas Eve. The boots that went along with the costume were two sizes too large, but he insisted on wearing them anyway. Always at some point in the evening, he would take a tumble of some sort. You remind me a little of him.”

  Alfie inched over to lick at Ike’s face, likely some sort of apology for causing the whole mess. Then he spied Miss Hattie’s spoon and snatched it.

  In the ensuing chaos, Ike managed to climb to his feet and gather up the scattered gifts. “I hope nothing was fragile,” he said as he stacked them on the nearby table and retrieved Annie’s bag.

  He climbed the stairs and set the bag on the riser in front of her, then seated himself at her side. As a small child he’d taken cushions off his mother’s favorite rosewood parlor set and ridden them down the staircase at full speed. When he was older, he’d often used this vantage point to listen to the goings-on downstairs.

  Now it felt absolutely right to be sitting here with Annie. He glanced over and reached for her hand. She smiled, and they settled into a content silence.

  Until Alfie appeared at the bottom of the stairs, the wooden spoon firmly between his teeth. “No. Stop,” Ike said.

  The dog kept coming, though at a relatively slow pace, owing to the animal’s overlarge size and love of scraps and second helpings. Annie scrambled out of the way, but Ike refused to move. If the big lug wanted to hide from his owner upstairs, he would have to get past him first.

  Alfie, perhaps smarter than he appeared, reached Ike and then lunged over him to race past. “How did he do that?” Ike said as he watched the dog disappear around the corner.

  “It was impressive.” Annie reached for something on the stairs. “Is this your telegram?”

  “No, it’s yours. It was delivered by a c
lerk from your hotel just before the gifts arrived. Sorry about that.”

  She gave the telegram a curious look and unfolded it. Her eyes scanned the page before she smiled and tucked the paper away in her pocket.

  “Good news?”

  “Of a sort.” Annie met his gaze. “From headquarters,” she said. “Good news about a possible issue that might have come up.”

  “In our case?”

  “No,” she hurried to say. “Something else. It’s all fine though.”

  Miss Hattie appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Did that traitorous mutt come up there?”

  “He did,” Ike told her. “How about we buy you another spoon? He looked awfully happy with that one.”

  “He ought to look happy. I was stirring my roast gravy before he snatched it from me.” She gave them a sideways look. “Why are the two of you sitting up here when we have perfectly good furniture down in the parlor?”

  Ike had no time to answer before Alfie plopped himself in between him and Annie, the spoon now notably absent. Annie scratched behind the big dog’s ear, causing him to roll over on his back and kick his legs.

  “Hey now,” he said as he nudged the intruder. “I saw her first. Stop trying to steal my attention.”

  Annie laughed, but Miss Hattie did not. “Alfie, I’ll have that spoon now,” she demanded.

  At the sound of his master’s voice, the pup jumped to attention. His big dark eyes watched the housekeeper closely, but he did not move a muscle.

  “Alfie, come.”

  Nothing.

  Finally, the standoff ended when Miss Hattie shook her head. “Come on down here, ya big lug. I forgive you.”

  At that, Alfie lumbered down the stairs to nearly knock his owner off her feet. “You better not have hidden that spoon under my pillow again,” she muttered as she walked away with the Irish wolfhound close on her heels.

  “Welcome to the Joplin house,” Ike said. “It is never boring here.”

  Annie grinned. “It’s wonderful. I had no idea you had such an interesting family.”

  “Interesting is certainly a good word for them, although depending on the day, there are others.” He paused. “You’ve never told me about your family, Annie. And if I remember right, we were just about to talk about Christmas at your home when we were sidelined by a shopping trip.”