by C. A. Asbrey
“What now?” Ben Middleton hung his head. “Am I going to jail?”
“You will see a lawyer and you will claim your inheritance.” Abigail smiled at the unseeing man, but he could hear the warmth in her voice. “I wouldn’t worry about those charges too much. A court will see them for what they are, I’m sure of it. Especially when the whole story comes out.”
She paused and crouched to be near his face as she placed a hand on his. “You can give David a good life. Just as Dora would have wanted.” Abigail watched his Adam’s apple roll up and down his scarred throat as he gulped.
“You said that woman had a daughter? What will happen to her?”
“She’ll go to family or go into care. I’m sure a court can come up with something for her. They’ll place her as a ward of court with someone they trust.”
He nodded. “It’s not her fault, what her mother did. We could take her if she wants to come. She’s family, sort of. My Becky always wanted kids, but after the explosion—well, you know. We would make her safe and welcome.”
Abigail tightened her hand as his voice trailed off, cracking with emotion. “You’re a credit to your mother.”
“Thank you Miss—?”
“MacKay. Abigail MacKay.”
Sheriff Thompson called over to the men, lifting a newspaper from his desk. “Oh, Mr.—what’s your name? I don’t think you ever told me? There’s somethin’ here that’ll interest you as a lawman.”
“What is it?” Nat carefully wrapped the jewelry in a cloth and handed it over to the lawman. “Best put this in the safe.”
“Them Pattersons have been in the newspapers. You remember them fake Innocents? It looks like Nat Quinn was onto something when he said someone had put them up to givin’ The Innocents a bad name. They’ve arrested the son of one of the Railroad owners. It seems he’s upset about The Innocents damagin’ his inheritance and paid the Pattersons to attach a few murders to their record. The Innocents caught them before they killed more’n one. They got witnesses of Smitty meetin’ with them and everythin’. His lawyer says they’ll never make the charges stick, though.”
Nat arched a knowing brow at Abigail. “I told you so. What’s his name, Sheriff?”
“Cornelius Schmitts Dewees, son of Theodor Dewees. He has shares in almost every line from the pacific to Kansas.” The sheriff held up the newspaper. “Do you think he’ll go down for it?”
“Nope.” Nat shook his head in resignation. “His rich daddy’ll buy him out of it. Cornelius Schmitts Dewees, huh? That’s a name worth remembering though. Is there a photograph?”
“Nope,” the sheriff lifted the jewelry and walked over to the safe. “Is that a bit of triumph I hear? Were you involved in that, too?”
Nat’s eyes glinted victory at Abigail. “I thought someone bigger was involved in that case, but she wouldn’t have it.” He threw down the newspaper and folded his arms. “It’s always good to have your instincts confirmed.”
“Ah, women! What do they know?” the sheriff slammed the safe closed. “They ain’t got a clue. You fancy a drink? This is a good day’s work we done here today.”
“No, thanks.” Nat stood and followed his uncle to the door. “We need to get our stuff from the hotel and get moving. Crime never stops, does it?”
“That’s true, son. And as long as that keeps goin’, we’ll always have a job, huh?”
Nat’s face broke into a glittering smile. “Never a truer word spoken, Sheriff. I’ve got to get off and do my bit.”
♦◊♦
“Mr. Quinn!” They heard her coming before they saw her, confronting the unashamed outlaws in the lobby of the hotel. “You stole those jewels.”
Nat grinned at her accusatory glare full of fire and spirit, his heart sinking at having to leave such a challenge behind. “Abi, how could you accuse me of somethin’ like that? I just helped you solve a crime.”
“They wouldn’t hand property that valuable over to us without a warrant. Do you expect me to believe you just asked nicely and waltzed away with them?”
“You couldn’t have nailed them without producing the evidence.” Nat replied. “That’s what connected them to the Schmidts. We helped.”
“And just what were you going to do with them if they hadn’t been needed?”
The two men exchanged an enigmatic chuckle, Jake dropping his head.
“But they were, and you couldn’t have done it without us,” Nat smiled.
“You said you wanted them,” added Jake. “It’s teamwork.”
“Yes, but you’d already stolen them.”
“Borrowed,” Nat twinkled with innocence. “I prefer to call it borrowing. Just in case. It’s a good thing I think ahead.”
“Do I look like I came down in the last shower of rain?”
“Not anymore,” Jake scanned her up and down. “You look much better now.”
Nat stared at her over his folded arms. “You’ve got them all back now, anyway. There’s no point crying over something that never happened.”
She propped her hands on her hips. “It happened, Mr. Quinn. You promised me a truce. I held up my end of the bargain. You went stealing.”
“You really held up your end. Great work, Abi. Very impressive. I’ve never seen anything like it. The way you put all those facts together to come up with a motive, and then the science to prove the girls could have made those scratches and they could only be done around the time of the crime.” Nat tilted his head. “I tell you. If detection keeps movin’ forward like this, we may have to consider going straight.”
“Go straight? I don’t think you could do that if your life depended on it.” She threw out her hands in exasperation. “But I suppose I need to thank you. I don’t think I could have done it without you. I mean that. If only you’d considered the right side of the law as a career. You’d have done well.” She frowned. “Let’s get back to those jewels.”
“Thanks, Abi. For Dora and Bessie; and especially David,” Jake spoke quietly and refocused them on why they were all here, on the same side for once. “And Ben, or should I call him Michael? His life just got a whole lot easier.”
She nodded. “You’re welcome. Nobody else was going to do anything about it, and I owed you. You saved my life.” She peered at the saddlebags in their hands. “So? This is goodbye?”
Jake nodded. “I guess it is, yes.”
Nat’s brow crinkled. “The next time we meet. I suppose it’s not goin’ to be pleasant.”
“Yeah, Abi,” Jake shrugged. “It’s all over. This is goodbye and the end of the truce. We’re enemies now. I guess.”
“Best enemies,” she agreed, reluctantly. “It’s been interesting. I’d even go so far as to say it was fun, at times.”
“This is goodbye…for now.” Jake eyed her cautiously. “Are you still gonna hand us in, Abi? Even after all this?”
“Yes. To do anything else would be dishonest. You’re not the first criminals I’ve been fond of, and I’m sure you won’t be the last. I wanted to make sure we were even.”
“Well. At least you’re honest. They’re few and far between in your profession.”
“Coming from you, Jake, I’ll take that as a compliment. But I do work with many honest men and women.”
“It was meant as one. There’s a future for women in the law,” he paused, “unfortunately.”
Her smile warmed. “Och, Jake. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He chuckled as her accent seemed to strengthen with her emotions.
“You earned it. You got my respect, Abi. I don’t say that to many lawmen, women—law—people. Nope. We can’t have this. ‘Law people’ is too hard to say.”
He approached and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Can I kiss you goodbye?” He qualified the request as he smiled at her. “Like a sister. As friends.”
“Friends?” She smiled at him. “That would be very nice.”
He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek before looking
deep into her eyes. “Goodbye, Abi. Until next time; whatever, whenever.” He strode over to the door and turned. “Don’t be long, Nat. We gotta go.”
She examined Nat as he stood by the door. He was still the man with the dancing eyes, the man with a code all of his own, but he was now so much more than that. Nat was a damaged and confounding human being, and his intelligence and humanity lifted him from the norm in any company, but that was even truer in the criminal fraternity.
His dark brows arched. “This is goodbye. It seems kinda strange, huh?”
“Yes. We’ll never see one another again. There’ll be no point in the agency sending me after you now.”
Brows met over glinting eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re honest and you’ll tell him the truth. He’ll use you. Don’t try to bluff me. I’m fine with that. Never’s an awful long time, and I’m not a patient man.”
She bit into her lip. “So I noticed.” That familiar ache blossomed in the pit of her stomach; that sense of loss and emptiness she had carried with her for the last five years. The respite was unnoticed, but the grief roared back in triumph.
“Will you miss me?”
She stared into the chocolate eyes. “I think I will. You’re one of a kind.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He stepped closer. “What do you think would have happened if we’d met normally? At a dance…or if we’d been introduced through friends?”
He approached her with genuine warmth in his face, reminding her of the tingle of excitement he could arouse in her. Yet again, she hid it behind a shield of professionalism.
She shook her glossy, dark head. “I’ve no idea. I can’t imagine you doing anything normal.”
“And I can’t imagine you as a housewife and mother. It wouldn’t be enough for you.”
Her heart sank at hearing him dismiss that part of her past so easily; the happiest time of her life. Had life changed her that much? She beat it back down with the rest of her secrets and brightened her smile. “The truce is over, Mr. Quinn. We’re enemies again.”
“Best enemies, just as you said.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s easier than a truce. It kills hope. It allows me to act.”
“Act?”
“Yes, darlin’. Act.” He moved even closer, his intense stare burning into her. “I’m a thief. I take. I live a life bending the rules. I don’t have to ask, although I’m pretty sure I know what the answer would be.” His lips pressed against hers, tentatively at first, then with more hunger. His arms wound around her before he pushed into her with more desire. He pulled back, running his gentle hands over her shoulders and down her arms. He caught her hands in his, drawing them up and kissing her fingers delicately.
“There are some things you just have to leave behind,” he pushed her against the wall with a groan. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Before she knew it he had snapped on a pair of handcuffs, fastening one hand to the door knob of the dining room door.
She rattled at it as he stepped back, laughing.
“What are you doing?”
“The truce is over, darlin’. It’s you or me, and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.” He beamed at her with a twinkle of regret. “I am truly sorry. I don’t know if it helps, but you’re one hell of an opponent.” His eyes glittered strangely and his voice dropped to a purr. “And one hell of a woman. I look forward to being on opposing sides again. It’ll be interesting to see which one of us will win.”
“We agreed we’d part as friends. I was going to let you ride out of here.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I can’t take the risk. Look on it as an occupational hazard. The handcuffs are nothing personal, look on them as a gift. You can keep them. This, however, is very…very…personal.” He leaned over and kissed her softly again. Small kisses at each side of her mouth before closing in with sensual, lustful want. He stroked her hair, toying with the lustrous dark curls. “I love your hair, especially when it’s down.”
She tried to wriggle her way out of the manacle, her eyes flashing in anger. “I’ll kill you when I get out of this.”
“Aaah, yes. I nearly forgot. I’m glad you reminded me.” He searched through her mad curls before finding her lock pick and sliding it out of the lustrous waves. He held it just out of her snatching reach.
“It’s for your own good, too, Abi. You really don’t want to follow us where we’re going. This way, we’ve got it covered.” He smiled at her with feral eyes. “Someone’ll find you and let you out. They’ll have to; you won’t get out of that on your own. It just buys us enough time to get out of here.”
His last words seemed to linger as he closed the front door of the hotel behind him. “Until next time, Abi. There will be a next time. I’ll make sure of it.”
She glowered before she laughed to herself and fumbled in the waistband of her skirt. Her long fingers pulled out another lock pick. “Oh, Mr. Quinn. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. If you underestimate someone, it only ever makes it easier for them to get one over on you.”
About The Author
Chris Asbrey has lived and worked all over the world in the Police Service, Civil Service, and private industry, working for the safety and security of the public. A life-changing injury meant a change of course into contract law and consumer protection for a department attached to the Home Office.
In that role, she produced magazine and newspaper articles based on consumer law and wrote guides for the Consumer Direct Website. She was Media Trained, by The Rank Organization, and acted as a consultant to the BBC's One Show and Watchdog. She has also been interviewed on BBC radio answering questions on consumer law to the public.
She lives with her husband and two daft cats in Northamptonshire, England—for now.
C.A. Asbrey
Blog - The Enigmatologist - all things obscure and strange in the Victorian period https://enigmatoligist.blogspot.co.uk/
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