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An Agent for Emily (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 28)

Page 12

by Amelia C. Adams


  “Come with me. We can talk somewhere else.”

  They went down the hall and then ducked into Emily’s room, careful first that no one was watching them. “What happened?” she asked again.

  “One of our men found him hiding in the river bottoms,” Todd said. He ran a hand through his hair. “This is all so confusing.”

  “Just take it a thing at a time.” Emily forced herself to sound calm, even though she felt anything but. She wanted all the answers right that minute, with no need to wait.

  “He’s downstairs in the study right now, making a full confession. Turns out that when he heard about Perceval being one of Astor’s business partners, he figured out that Astor had asked for a loan because that’s what Perceval specializes in—bailing out business by giving them loans. That’s how he made his fortune. So Jeremy sent a telegram to an associate asking him to get on the train at the Percevals’ stop and dispatch Perceval on the train ride here.”

  Emily blinked. “Jeremy hired someone to do away with Perceval?”

  “That’s right. At first, Jeremy thought his confederate would have to kill Perceval with his wife there on the train, but she got off easy when she was sent ahead. It was much cleaner, I suppose you could say, when it was just the two men traveling together.”

  “I don’t understand. How does Jeremy even know a person who would be willing to murder someone on assignment? And why . . .” Emily shuddered. “You’re telling me that Jeremy’s done this before—gotten rid of people who were in his way.”

  “That’s what it looks like,” Todd replied. “I’m so sorry—this can’t be easy to hear.”

  “Why would he want Perceval killed? Why didn’t he want his money back?”

  “He wanted Astor to pay. This was more about sending Astor to jail than it was about getting his money. If Astor couldn’t make good on the theft, he would face that jail time. And with Perceval dead, well, that dried up the cash flow.”

  “Didn’t he know that Perceval had already handed the money to Astor?”

  “Apparently not, but it wouldn’t have made any difference. He wanted Astor to suffer, and framing him for murder seemed like the right choice. In his mind, that is.”

  “And why would the telegraph operator send such a horrible telegram?”

  “It was all in code. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

  Emily crossed the floor and looked the window, then turned and came back. “I was forgiving him,” she whispered. “I considered him a friend.”

  “I know you did. I’m sorry.”

  “I think . . . I think I’d like to go home now. Do you think that’s possible?”

  “Absolutely. If anyone has questions for you, they can hunt you down later. Let’s get you home.”

  ***

  Emily slept harder than she had for a very long time, and she slept longer too. No one disturbed her, and that’s what she needed—the chance to sleep everything off so she could face it with a clear mind the next day. When she woke up, she still didn’t understand how Jeremy could have done it, but she knew she could waste a lot of time trying to figure out the mind and will of another human being. For now, she should concentrate on being thankful for what they’d accomplished.

  She slept longer than usual the following day too, her exhaustion forcing her to do so. It wasn’t until the third day since she’d left the estate that she found her way to the Pinkerton office.

  “Miss Gray, Agent Wilcox has had nothing but wonderful things to say about you,” Agent Gordon told her. “He said that your interpretation of the facts was the key to solving this case.”

  “I can’t say that’s true,” Emily replied. “One suspect showed up in the closet and the other in the river near the house. That hardly called for any super sleuthing skills.”

  “On the contrary. Agent Wilcox said it was your fresh perspective that made the entire arrest possible. I say you take that compliment and hold it tightly.”

  Emily offered a smile. “All right, sir.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that Mr. Astor has returned the money to Mrs. Perceval, and she has given it back to its rightful owner. There are no more loan schemes afoot, and all the people Astor owes have been understanding. Well, with the exception of Jeremy Tobler, that is, but the judge is planning to be lenient on Astor’s behalf, and it will all get worked out.”

  “I’m very glad to hear that, sir. What he did wasn’t right, but he was trying to make amends.”

  Agent Gordon nodded. “So, what can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to know more about this . . . annulment arrangement.”

  Agent Gordon nodded. “Certainly. You simply sign these papers, and after they’re processed, you’re free to carry on as you see fit.”

  “And no one will have to know?”

  Agent Gordon looked at her curiously. “Miss Gray, is everything all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’m just . . .”

  “Having second thoughts?”

  She whirled at the sound of the new voice. “Todd,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t think I’d run into you today.”

  “Is it an unwelcome surprise?”

  “I . . . came to ask about the annulment.”

  “I see. Are you signing the papers?”

  “Of course.” She paused. “Aren’t you?”

  Todd stepped aside to allow Agent Gordon and Miss Chapman to leave the room, then he leaned against the doorframe. “Well, here’s the thing. When I marry a woman, I tend to take it literally—that whole ‘as long as you both shall live’ thing sticks in a person’s brain.”

  “Just how many women have you been married to?”

  “Just one, but I don’t intend to let her go just yet.” He took a few steps toward her, and she felt her heartrate speed up. “Emily, it’s only been a few days, but I know enough about you to know that I’ve been blessed with a special gift by having you in my life. What say we hold off on the annulment for now and see where this might take us? We might decide that we drive each other crazy, or we might decide there’s something worth pursuing. I thought I was supposed to leave after the case was resolved, but I’m not, and as it turns out, you’re the reason.”

  “But why? I’m a terrible person. I’m stubborn and I’m selfish. I only think about myself—never anyone else. You won’t like me once you get to know me, I’m sure of it.” She wished that wasn’t true, but she lived with herself—she knew how awful she could be.

  Todd smiled and crossed the floor to her. “Give us a chance,” he said softly. “Give us a chance to work it all out. And if we don’t like each other, then we’ll get the annulment. The thing is, Miss Gray, is that I don’t care how selfish you think you are—I’ve seen differently. And I’m willing to bet that you’ve changed your tune about a few other things, too.”

  “Like what?” She wanted to believe him—oh, so very much.

  “Like needing to live in the lap of luxury. I think if the right man came along, you might find that money isn’t everything.”

  “And you’re the right man?”

  “I can’t promise you anything, but I’m sure willing to try.” He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss before she had a chance to stop him—but as it turns out, she didn’t want to stop him. Instead, she clung to his collar, and when he pulled away, she smiled.

  “All right, Agent Wilcox,” she said. “I’m willing to give it a try. I think you’re terribly brave for taking me on, though. Especially since I won’t be sitting on a board of directors after all, and my prospects aren’t what they used to be.”

  “Pinkertons are brave. It’s who we are,” he replied.

  “Oh, hush,” she said. “And kiss me again.”

  He was more than happy to oblige.

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  About Amelia C. Adams

  Amelia traces her family tree right back to the settlement
of the Old West—her great-great-grandmother even drove a wagon to her new home. Amelia is a wife, a mother, and a novelist. She spends her days dreaming up stories and her nights writing them down. Her biggest hero is her husband, and you might just see bits and pieces of him as you read her novels. She loves all things historical and enjoys learning about days gone by, but she's glad she was born in modern times because the Internet is awesome, and she's glad she doesn't have to wash her clothes by hand in a galvanized tub. She’s an eater of tacos, a taker of naps, and a dreamer of dreams.

  You can reach Amelia at ameliaadamsauthor@gmail.com.

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