The Black Midnight

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “Speaking of shopping, were the gifts delivered?”

  “They were,” he said. “I already told you that.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” She looked away. “The clerk, I believe her name was Lucy. She was very attentive. I must compliment the owner on hiring exemplary staff.”

  It didn’t take a Pinkerton detective to know she was changing the subject.

  “I already did,” he said. “Mr. Slanton delivered the gifts. Oh, and he had a message for Miss Hattie as well as a gift.”

  Annie perked up. “Now that is an interesting development. Do you think he’s sweet on her?”

  “If I had to guess, I would say he might be.”

  “And she on him?”

  “That’s harder to determine. I can’t see Miss Hattie holding a torch for anyone other than Pop, but now that you’ve met him, I’m sure you can see how waiting for him to show some affection might get tiresome.”

  “Isaiah, I have to say I find it odd that your housekeeper is in love with your father and living in the same home with him. Don’t the neighbors talk?”

  “They all know my pop. Plus I’m certain Miss Hattie hasn’t breathed a word of how she feels about him to anyone. Pop may wonder if she’s still holding a torch for him, but he’s too proud to ask, I’d guess. If he’d just make an effort, he might find out.”

  Ike shook his head. “Never mind. Forget what I was saying. Miss Hattie’s room is at the top of the stairs in the attic with a lock on the inside of the door and a dog that sleeps against doors—as my loud entrance into the house a few minutes ago shows. She moved up there after the murders started last year. Many of the families came up with similar arrangements so that their servants wouldn’t be sleeping in their quarters where they were vulnerable to the madman.”

  “Yes, that does make sense.”

  “Pop is never here, so it’s fine. He sleeps in his office more than he does at home. But enough about us. Tell me about Christmas Eve in England. I’m sure it wasn’t anything like this.”

  “Oh, it was just normal, I suppose. A tree, the trimmings, Christmas pudding, and gifts. My sister and I staying up to peek in on the adults well after we ought to have gone to bed.” She shrugged. “Nothing extraordinary.”

  Ike got the distinct impression Annie Walters did not wish to talk about life back in England. Of course, that made Ike even more determined to get an answer from her.

  “I never had a sibling. What was that like?”

  “Interesting,” she said. “And irritating sometimes. I often wished I were an only child.”

  “And I wished I had brothers and sisters. When you’re the only child at the Christmas Eve celebration, it can get lonely.”

  “Lonely was a word I never used. Between my sister and all the cousins and Granny insisting we gather…” Annie shook her head. “Anyway, suffice it to say that chaos was the order of the day.”

  “Tell me more. I’m interested.”

  Annie shifted positions to stand and then straightened her skirts. “Truly, there’s nothing to tell. I should go and see if Miss Hattie needs any help in the kitchen.”

  She wouldn’t, but Ike let her go find out for herself. He wouldn’t press Annie on the topic of her personal life back home tonight, but considering the kiss they’d shared under the mistletoe, he did plan to find out more about the woman he’d fallen in love with.

  Love.

  Ike cringed. Yes, there was no denying it. He’d tell her eventually. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

  Yes, tomorrow. What better day than Christmas to ask the most beautiful woman in the world if she loved him too?

  Annie escaped into Miss Hattie’s kitchen with Isaiah’s questions chasing her. She’d told him what she could and left out the rest. But with that kiss—oh, that kiss!—she’d opened the door to a need to share her history with the last man who ought to know.

  Isaiah Joplin was a dangerous man to be around. She’d known it before, but their moment under the mistletoe removed any doubt she might have had.

  What to do about that was a whole other question. Granny would never approve of a romance with him, nor would her parents allow it if they were told. Of course there were many things in her current situation that would meet with their disapproval, chief among them her employment with the Pinkerton Detective Agency.

  At least the telegram from Chicago had delivered good news. There was no sign of her father, and it was assumed he had elected not to travel to Illinois to confront her.

  Yet, at least.

  “Miss Walters?”

  The housekeeper’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Please,” she said to the woman stirring something on the stove with a long metal spoon, “call me Annie.”

  “Annie it is, child. Now hand me that jar over there, would you, love? Then make yourself at home and take a seat.”

  She did as the housekeeper requested and stepped back to stay out of the Irishwoman’s way. Annie hadn’t been granted access to the kitchen at home. That was the domain of the cooks, and no child dare enter.

  At least she’d known where it was. Mama was proud of the fact she hadn’t a clue where the kitchen was located in the castle where she grew up.

  Annie cast a glance around, her gaze landing on the woman at the stove. “It smells delicious in here, Miss Hattie.”

  “It ought to,” she remarked with a grin. “I’ve made all the menfolk’s Christmas favorites and one or two of mine. We’ll be eating well now that the weather has hit and we’re to be stuck indoors.” She leaned over to peer out the window. “Won’t be anyone out on an afternoon like this, so don’t expect there will be carolers.”

  “Do you generally have carolers?”

  “We do,” she said, keeping her attention on her work.

  “I read about carolers in books, but the homes were so far apart where I lived, and there was just no…” Annie paused. She’d said enough.

  “No way to go from house to house on foot?” Miss Hattie offered. “That’d be the problem we children had in Ireland. ’Tis why I do enjoy the singers when they come by.”

  Annie looked past her to the window where the afternoon was as dark as night. Alfie lay stretched out, already snoring against the door that led to the back of the property. Despite the frantic pace that Miss Hattie kept in moving from pot to pot, the kitchen was the most peaceful place she’d been in a very long time.

  “The mistletoe,” Miss Hattie said, sliding Annie a sideways glance. “Did it work?”

  Instantly, warmth flooded her face.

  “Yes, I thought so.” Then she went back to stirring.

  Isaiah stepped into the kitchen, Alfie’s wooden spoon in hand. “Did I miss anything?”

  “No, and neither did I,” Miss Hattie said, raising the heat in Annie’s cheeks.

  “All right, well, here’s your spoon, Miss Hattie. I found it under my pillow.”

  At the sound of Isaiah’s voice, Alfie lifted tired eyes to give him a brief moment of attention. Then he snorted and rolled back over as if to indicate his opinion of his treasure being unearthed.

  “Doesn’t look like the one I was using this morning, but then, he’s right regular at stealing them. No matter,” the housekeeper said. “You’ll not be sleeping up there tonight. Not with Annie on the same floor. ’Tisn’t proper, and I’ll not have it under this roof.” She took the spoon from Isaiah and tossed it to Alfie. “You’ll bunk in the parlor.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me, Miss Hattie. I’ve laid down my bedroll in worse places.” He walked across the kitchen to look out the window and shake his head. “Besides, I’ve tried to convince Miss Hattie that I needed to sleep by the fireplace since I was a kid. The better to see if I can catch Santa Claus in the act of coming down the chimney.”

  He winked at Annie, and she giggled. Miss Hattie merely shook her head. “Why don’t you go get the tree off the porch and set it up in the parlor, Ikey? I put it up out of the rain before the downpour started, but it’s s
till going to be a little damp, so shake it off good before you come inside. And watch my floors.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded to Annie. “Does she have permission to go with me? I might need someone to hold the door.”

  “You are incorrigible,” Miss Hattie said. “Annie can do what she wants in this house.” She gave Annie an even look. “Whatever is within the bounds of propriety, that is.”

  “Oh, Miss Hattie,” Isaiah said. “You say that, but which of us hung the mistletoe from the porch roof where she knew we would stand under it? Where was propriety then?”

  “Propriety was in the same place then as it was when you and Annie decided to make use of that mistletoe,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Not that I am owning up to hanging it there, mind you.”

  The front door opened, silencing their laughter. Isaiah frowned as Alfie clambered to his feet. “Are you expecting anyone, Miss Hattie?”

  Her brows gathered. “I am not.”

  Before Isaiah could cross the kitchen, the door from the dining room opened. “Merry Christmas,” Pop said.

  Chapter 14

  Not only was Pop home before dinnertime on Christmas Eve, but he’d also brought a wreath for the door and garland made of pine for the mantel. Isaiah tried not to stare.

  “What’ve you got there, Seth?” Miss Hattie called from her place at the stove.

  Their housekeeper was doing a much better job of hiding her shock than Ike was. Annie, however, appeared completely unaware of the rarity of seeing Seth Joplin at home at a quarter to four in the afternoon.

  “I thought I’d help get things ready for the tree trimming,” Pop said. “Hattie, have you popped the popcorn?”

  She looked up from her work. “Did that yesterday. There are two buckets filled to the top and ready to be strung and a basket of string and needles. Just don’t let Ikey touch a needle. I don’t want to have to clean blood out of the carpet again this year.”

  Ike held his hands out to protest the statement. “Everyone has his talents.”

  “Yours just doesn’t happen to be making the garland for the tree,” Miss Hattie interjected.

  “I would love to string the popcorn with you, Dr. Joplin,” Annie said. “Where are the buckets?”

  Miss Hattie directed Annie on where to find them, and once Annie had gone, she turned to Pop. “I don’t suppose you know what to do with yourself.”

  His father’s expression turned confused. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve got a wreath to hang and a pine garland to fix to the mantel. Then I’ll go help Miss Walters make the garland for the tree. By then it ought to be time to eat and decorate the tree.”

  “That isn’t what I mean, Seth. You’ll kill a few hours’ time doing those things, but do you know how to enjoy them?”

  “I’m just going to go work on getting the tree inside,” Ike said. “I’ll leave you to finish this conversation by yourselves. But Pop, I am very glad you’re here. If you need any help with the wreath and garland, just let me know.”

  Ike stepped out into the icy afternoon. True to her promise, Miss Hattie had moved the tree from its spot leaning against the house to a place on the porch where the rain couldn’t reach it. Still, the needles were wet, and the water needed to be shaken off.

  By the time he had managed his task, his hands were just about frozen and he was wishing for his warm coat rather than the thin jacket he’d worn out onto the porch. This was the kind of cold he would expect in Chicago, not Austin, and it was miserable.

  He had just about wrangled the tree into submission when the back door opened and Pop stepped outside. “Need some help?”

  Tempted to say no, Ike instead nodded. “Sure. How did you make this look so easy when I was a kid?”

  Pop chuckled. “Come on. Together we will manage this.”

  Ike nodded, and together they urged the tree through the doorway and set it upright. His father took a step backward to survey the scene and then nodded toward the kitchen. “All right. I believe we’re ready. Remember, the trick to handling Hattie is not to make eye contact. Just rush the tree through her kitchen and hope for the best.”

  “Good advice, Pop.” Ike paused. “She gave you a hard time in there. I hope you know why she does that.”

  “I do,” he said. “But I cannot change who I am.”

  Ike looked at him. Really looked at him. Then he shook his head. “Sure you can. You’re here, aren’t you? That’s all we ask.” He paused. “That’s all she asks. And remember, I am hardly here. My work takes me a lot farther from this place than yours does.”

  His father seemed to be considering the statement. Then he nodded. “Let’s get this tree set up. I’ve got a wreath to hang, and I’m sure Miss Hattie will have an opinion on where the pine garland should go too.”

  “Miss Hattie has an opinion on everything,” Ike said. “And sometimes she even keeps them to herself.”

  They shared a laugh as they hoisted the tree, and Pop took the lead in hauling it through the kitchen. “Nothing to see here, Hattie,” Pop told her as he quickly made his way across the room and through the opposite door into the dining room. Finally, they rounded the corner to arrive in the parlor where Annie was busy setting out the supplies for making popcorn garlands.

  She looked up from her work and froze, eyes wide. “Oh,” she said softly. And then again, “Oh.”

  “Something wrong?” Ike said as he held the tree until Pop managed to decide how to best place it.

  “No.” Annie rose and moved toward them. “It’s just so pretty.”

  “Cal Slanton thought so too,” Miss Hattie said from the hallway. “He promised to send over the prettiest tree in the bunch he had for sale, and he sure did, didn’t he?”

  “Slanton picked out this tree? The fellow who owns the department store?” Pop’s expression told Ike the name was not only familiar but also not a favorite of his. “Well, I guess he did an acceptable job.”

  “You know good and well who Cal Slanton is, Seth. And he did just fine.” She shook her head. “Now, I want to see that tree standing straight and tall. You’ve got it leaning to the left.”

  “I do not,” Pop countered. “It looks fine from here.”

  Ike moved across the parlor to take a seat beside Annie. “Is it like this every year?” she asked softly. At Ike’s nod, Annie giggled.

  He leaned closer. “Except the part where my father is here before bedtime. It’s usually me trying to straighten the tree and Miss Hattie barking instructions,” he whispered.

  “I heard that,” the housekeeper told him.

  “Maybe I wanted you to,” Ike countered with a grin. “If you and Pop don’t decide how the tree ought to sit in that stand soon, I am going to be forced to take up needle and thread and make popcorn garland in protest.”

  A few minutes later, the debate was settled and the tree had been set in place. Pop retired to the porch to hang the wreath on the front door, and Miss Hattie returned to the kitchen.

  “Are they always like that?” Annie asked.

  “No,” he said. “Sometimes they argue.”

  “I’m serious.” She glanced at the door where Pop had gone. “They act like an old married couple.”

  “Because that’s what they ought to be,” Ike said. “Instead, they’re two stubborn people who cannot see what’s right under their noses.”

  “I could say the same for someone else,” drifted toward them through the kitchen door.

  “Have I mentioned that Miss Hattie has ridiculously good hearing?” Ike said. “It was the bane of my childhood. I couldn’t make a single comment under my breath without being caught.” He reached into the bucket and drew out a handful of popcorn, then ate a few kernels.

  “You’re eating the garland,” Annie protested when he finished off his first serving and grabbed another. “Leave some for the tree.”

  He finished that handful and sat back. “Okay, fine. But if I am sitting here, I’ll need something to do.”

&nb
sp; “We could talk about the case,” Annie offered. “Neither of us has discussed what happened at the university today.”

  “Nor should we attempt that now.” He gestured in the direction of the kitchen, and Annie nodded.

  “All right. You have a point. Then I have questions about local people that you might be able to answer. How about that?”

  “Sure,” he said. “If I can, I will.”

  Annie paused to stab a piece of popcorn with her needle and thread it through to the growing garland. She looked up from her work to focus on Ike.

  “Yesterday no one wanted to talk to me. Other than a brief ‘How do you do?’ at the door of the home where the first murder occurred, there was complete silence from every homeowner I could find. And the surviving victims wanted nothing to do with me either. The Brown fellow? He actually saw our killer. Witnessed him with his own eyes. But when I tracked him down and asked if he would allow me to interview him, he claimed I had the wrong man. I didn’t, Isaiah. It was him.”

  “I’m sure it was,” he said. “But I think his attitude is the prevailing one. Maybe it’s thanks to Pop and his pals and their harebrained schemes, or maybe there’s something else that has him scared, but it’s not going to change anytime soon. These folks didn’t ask for the spotlight and don’t like being in it. Remember, a whole lot of other people stood in front of them asking questions before you showed up and tried it.”

  “I guess so,” she said. “It’s just so frustrating.”

  “It is indeed.”

  The front door opened and Pop stepped inside. “All done,” he said. “Now about that garland.”

  “Let Annie help you two,” Miss Hattie called from the kitchen. “And do whatever she says. I know it’ll look just fine. She’s English, and they have the best of taste.”

  Annie grinned. “Have I mentioned how much I like Miss Hattie?”

  Given the history of unrest between the Irish and the English, Ike could only hope that Miss Hattie meant that as a compliment. He certainly would not disabuse Annie of her belief that it was.