An Agent for Clara

by Nerys Leigh

  The Pinkerton Matchmaker

  An Agent for

  Clara

  Nerys Leigh

  THE PINKERTON MATCHMAKER:

  AN AGENT FOR CLARA

  Copyright: Nerys Leigh

  Published: 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted, without written permission from the author. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  Get The Blacksmith’s Heart for free!

  Sign up for my newsletter to never miss a new book, receive either monthly news or only new release notifications (your choice), and get The Blacksmith's Heart novella absolutely free.

  TAP HERE TO SUBSCRIBE AND GET YOUR FREE BOOK

  WANTED:

  Female Agents to join Pinkerton National Detective Agency

  Daring women who seek adventure and are of sound mind and body.

  You will help the criminal elements answer for their crimes and secure safety for their victims.

  You will train with an existing agent…

  Chapter One

  June, 1871.

  Willis Butler’s mouth twisted into a derisive smirk. “This is ridiculous. She’s deluded.”

  “Hey!” Jasper snapped. “That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

  Clara shot him a grateful look. He probably thought her deluded too, but at least her big brother stood up for her.

  “Miss Lee, we do have work to do and…” Mr. Thompson stopped when she held up her hand.

  Purposely not looking at him, she pretended to examine a chair in great detail.

  She was well aware of the seven pairs of eyes that had been following her around the room since she’d started ‘investigating’. She was also all too aware that every one of the men who worked in the offices of Thompson & Farmer Insurance Services with her brother was probably sniggering at her behind her back. It didn’t matter. Once she’d unmasked the person who was stealing all the chocolate bonbons from the office they wouldn’t be laughing.

  All right, they probably would. Bonbons going missing from the box Mr. Thompson brought from his wife into the office each week wasn’t exactly a serious crime. But at least she’d have proven her skills.

  Of course, she already knew it was Mr. Butler. He couldn’t have looked more guilty if he’d tried. But she had to make him nervous if he was going to reveal where he’d hidden the pilfered candies. Hence her pretense at examining the office in minute detail.

  “Miss Lee,” Mr. Thompson began again, “our time is valuab…”

  “Ha!” Clara whirled around and thrust out a finger at Butler. “It’s you, Willis Butler! You are the thief! And I know exactly where you’ve hidden those chocolate bonbons you stole this morning.”

  His eyes flicked away for just an instant, but it was enough.

  “As I said, she’s deluded,” he said with a strained laugh. “You know me, Mr. Thompson. No one is more loyal.”

  “Loyal, are you?” Clara said, throwing herself into the theatrics of the part. “So why, then, are the bonbons in your cupboard?”

  She strode to the cupboard behind his desk and grasped the handle, intending to throw it open dramatically to reveal the stolen items.

  The door didn’t move.

  Clearing her throat, she glanced back at the men. “Um, could someone possibly…?”

  Ignoring Mr. Butler’s protestations, Jasper fetched a key from his desk and moved to Clara’s side to unlock the door.

  “You’d better be right,” he whispered, “or you’re going to look a fool and I’ll probably lose my job for letting you do this.”

  “Trust me,” she whispered back with a wink.

  His only response was a non-committal grunt under his breath.

  Once Jasper had unlocked the cupboard, she waved him back, faced her audience again, and threw open the door with another loud “Ha!”

  The seven men stared at the open cupboard. There were a few seconds of silence. Jasper closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping.

  Clara turned to look into the cupboard. Other than a few thin cardboard folders and a ream of paper, it was empty. “But….” She thrust in her hand, feeling around the resolutely bare shelves. “But….”

  “Miss Lee,” Mr. Thompson said, “I allowed you to do this because your brother swore to me you could identify the thief of the missing bonbons. I think you’ve wasted enough of our time.” He turned his annoyed gaze on Jasper. “Mr. Lee, could I see you in my office once you’ve escorted your sister out?”

  “But they have to be there,” she protested, looking from the cupboard to Mr. Butler’s smug smirk.

  Jasper took her arm, tugging her towards the door.

  “He’s guilty, I know he is.” She looked back at the cupboard as her brother led her from the room. “They’re there, they have to be. Maybe he moved them and forgot. Why would he have an almost empty cupboard there if…” She stopped, gasping in a breath of realization. “That’s it!”

  Pulling her arm from Jasper’s grip, she ran back into the office.

  In the process of returning to their desks, the men all stopped to stare at her again.

  “Clara!”

  Ignoring her brother’s cry, she rushed back to the cupboard.

  Mr. Butler rose from his chair. “What are you…?”

  She grasped hold of the edge of the cupboard. “It’s not in the cupboard,” she grunted, pulling on the heavy piece of furniture, “because it’s behind the cupboard.” Unable to move it by herself, she glanced back at her brother. “Jas, help me.”

  He glanced from her to his boss.

  “Please, Jas. I know I’m right.” He was the only one who had always believed in her, other than their parents. “Please.”

  Heaving a loud sigh, he walked across the room to join her. “If they’re not here, I’m never speaking to you again. And you can help me find a new job.”

  Together, they heaved the heavy cupboard away from the wall. Clara suppressed a squeal of joy.

  Sitting in an old, unused fireplace was a bowl of chocolate bonbons. A gap at the side nearest Mr. Butler’s desk would have made it easy for him to periodically reach in and take one without being noticed.

  She whirled to face her audience, a triumphant grin stretching her cheeks.

  Mr. Thompson’s eyes moved to Mr. Butler. “Do you have an explanation for this?”

  Jasper had told her that, although Mrs. Thompson sent the bonbons for the whole office, the understanding was that the rest of them were only allowed one each. The rest were for Mr. Thompson’s sole consumption, away from his wife’s judgmental eyes. Anyone else who took more than one was in very deep trouble.

  “I… um… those aren’t mine. I don’t know how they got there. She’s lying.” Mr. Butler’s face crumpled under Mr. Thompson’s merciless gaze. “They’re just so delicious. I couldn’t help myself!”

  Abruptly, and somewhat bizarrely, he launched himself at the door.

  Jasper stuck out his foot and he crashed to the floor.

  When found out, the guilty, Clara had noticed, often did very strange things.

  “Well done, Mr. Lee,” Mr. Thompson said. “Very well done.” He glared down at Mr. Butler. “In my office. Now.”

  “But I’m the one who knew it was him,” Clara said as he walked away. “I even found the missing bonbons.”

  Jasper patted her shoulder before holding out a hand to help a very embarrassed looking Mr. Butler from the floor.

  Clara huffed out a frustrated sigh.

  One day, she’d be the one getting the credit for solving crimes. And she’d be doing more than just findin
g missing bonbons.

  Chapter Two

  The Denver office of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency occupied a large house on Chain Bridge Road. Clara stood on the street outside where the carriage had left her, staring up at it in awe.

  Ever since, as an impressionable twelve-year-old, she’d read about Kate Warne, she’d dreamed of being a Pinkerton detective. Although she’d never thought she’d get the chance. She almost felt that if she blinked, the house would disappear and she’d wake in her bed back in St. Louis to find it had all been a dream.

  “Look at me, Daddy,” she whispered. “You were right, I can be anything I want to be. I’m going to be a real Pinkerton agent.”

  Her smile grew. This was going to be so much fun.

  She picked up her carpet bag and practically skipped up the path to the front porch. At the door she raised her hand, but instead of knocking, she placed her palm onto the surface. She liked to touch things. If you could touch something, it was real.

  The door opened.

  Caught off balance, Clara stumbled forward and collided with a mixture of arms, chest, and something metallic that clattered to the wooden floor.

  Two large hands grasped her shoulders, steadying her. “Don’t move!”

  She looked up into a handsome, clean-shaven face.

  The man lowered his gray eyes to the floor. “Don’t take a single step.”

  She followed his gaze to where several tiny glass vials rolled around her feet. Leaning forward to get a better look, she frowned. “Are those maggots?”

  He released her shoulders and crouched in front of her to pick up the metal box she’d knocked from his hands, proceeding to carefully gather the glass vials one by one to place back inside. “Calliphoridae Lucilia Sericata.”

  She stared at the dark brown hair covering his head, all she could see of him as he worked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Blowfly. Green bottle. When there’s a corpse, these are the first ones in.”

  “Oh.” What did one say about maggots and dead bodies? “That’s… interesting.”

  He straightened, arranging the vials in the box and counting under his breath.

  “Can I move now?”

  “No!”

  She started at his exclamation. “All right.”

  “There’s one missing.” He cast around the floor. “Don’t tread on it.”

  “I won’t.” Broken glass and squished maggot weren’t things she wanted on the soles of her new shoes.

  She stood still as his gaze moved from the floor, up her skirt, past her body, and finally settled on her face. He really was quite handsome, if a little severe-looking, with serious eyes studying her from behind round, wire-framed spectacles.

  She smiled and held out her hand. “Good afternoon. I’m Miss Clara Lee.”

  A small frown creased his brow. “Hmm?” His eyes darted to the right side of her face. “There you are.”

  His hand rose and for a moment she had the strangest idea he was going to cup her cheek. She was a little disappointed when, instead, he plucked something from her hair.

  Her eyes widened at the fat, squirming maggot inside the vial he held. “Was that in my hair?” She patted a hand against her head, frantically feeling for anything else that might be stuck there.

  He placed the vial into the box with the others. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”

  “Oh, well, that’s all right then.” Given it had been in her hair, she wasn’t at all worried about the wellbeing of the maggot. He might have been the oddest man she’d ever met. “Could you direct me to the office of Mr. Archibald Gordon?”

  Eyes still on the collection of maggots he held, he waved one hand vaguely back into the house behind him. “Along that corridor, first door on the left.”

  “Thank you,” she said, although she wasn’t sure he even noticed as he walked past her and down the porch steps.

  Muttering, “Looks like I’m going to be spending the next hour getting you all into order again,” he disappeared around the side of the house.

  Shrugging, she walked inside and pushed the door closed behind her.

  She made her way along the corridor and came to a desk outside a door on the left. There was no one at the desk, but the door was open and voices emanated from inside.

  “I have my doubts,” a woman said.

  A Scottish-accented male voice replied. “He’s the only one available. It’s just for one case.”

  “I know, but we’ve been doing so well so far with matching them. I hate to think we’re looking at our first failure.”

  “You don’t know, it might work out.”

  “This is Tobias we’re talking about.”

  There was a pause. “Fair point.”

  Not wanting to eavesdrop, at least not on her first day, Clara knocked on the open door. “Pardon me?”

  A young, dark-haired woman appeared at the door. “Forgive me, I didn’t know there was anyone here. How may I help you?”

  “I’m Miss Clara Lee. I received a letter inviting me to interview to become a Pinkerton agent?”

  “Of course, Miss Lee, do come in.” Smiling, she waved her into the room. “Welcome to Denver. I’m Marianne and this is Mr. Archibald Gordon, our lead agent.”

  A man with dark hair and scrupulously neat facial hair rose from behind a desk on the far side of the room. “Miss Lee, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Clara walked across the room, extending her hand. “Mr. Gordon, thank you for this opportunity. I hope I will live up to your expectations.”

  He shook her hand and indicated a chair in front of the desk. “If I didn’t think you could, I wouldn’t have invited you here.”

  “Would you like some coffee or tea?” Marianne asked. “Or perhaps some water?”

  “I would adore a cup of tea, thank you. Four spoons of sugar.”

  There was the usual reaction to her request, a very slight widening of the eyes for just a moment, before Marianne smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

  Clara simply smiled in return. She’d given up explaining that she liked things sweet a long time ago. Sometimes, being able to tell what people were thinking could be more nuisance than blessing. Still, she wouldn’t have given it up for anything.

  “I trust you had a good journey?” Mr. Gordon said as Marianne walked from the room. His eyes followed her as she left and there was no mistaking his attraction.

  A couple, perhaps. Or if not, they both wanted to be.

  “It was pleasant, thank you.” She didn’t offer any details. He clearly didn’t truly want to know about it.

  He nodded. “Good, good. Well, I was impressed with your application. You already appear to have plenty of experience in investigating crimes.”

  “As much as I can, sir. I love unraveling a good mystery. Although I often wasn’t taken seriously by the local police.” If she’d been honest, she would have said they regarded her as more an irritation than an asset. “But I did my best to help the victims see justice.”

  “An admirable desire, Miss Lee. And I can assure you, here at the Pinkerton agency, we always take agents seriously, no matter their sex.”

  There was a hint of uncertainty to his expression, but she didn’t think it pertained to his own views. Maybe he wasn’t so sure about the rest of his agents.

  But all she said was, “I’m pleased to hear that, sir.”

  Marianne walked back into the room and took a seat beside Clara. “Pearl will have your tea ready for when you get settled in your room.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’ll receive your training on the job,” Mr. Gordon went on. “You’ll leave tomorrow for your first assignment with your training agent and he will teach you all you need to know, as well as assess your suitability for the job. If, at the end, he reports that you’re ready to join us, and if you haven’t changed your mind, you’ll become a full agent then.”

  A shiver of excitement skittered through her chest. A real Pinkerton agent. She
couldn’t wait. She’d been born for this.

  “I will do my very best to not let you down.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” His expression suddenly became awkward. “There is just one thing you will need to agree to in order to start your training.”

  “Anything,” she replied, without hesitation. She wouldn’t have come all this way if she wasn’t willing to do whatever the job asked of her.

  “You will be required to marry your training agent for the duration of your first case, for propriety’s sake. At the end, you will be free to get an annulment.”

  Clara stared at him for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

  He smiled a little. “You will need to marry your training agent. In name only, of course.”

  “Oh.” She sat back. This was unexpected.

  She’d been prepared for just about anything. But marriage? In even her wildest imaginings, matrimony had never featured. Still, if nothing else, it would be a new experience.

  Noting the tension in Mr. Gordon’s posture, the slight tightening of his jaw as he prepared for an argument, she decided to shock him. “Sounds like fun. Do I get to choose my husband?”

  To her satisfaction, his eyes widened. “I… um, no. We’ve already matched you with an agent. As we know all of them, we feel we are better able to place you with the best agent for you.”

  Marianne erupted in a fit of coughing.

  Mr. Gordon glanced at her in irritation.

  She pressed a hand to her chest. “Please excuse me.”

  Something was clearly going on here.

  Clara recalled the conversation she’d been privy to when she first arrived.

  He’s the only one we’ve got. It’s only for one case.

  I’d hate to think this will be our first failure.

  It might work out.

  This is Tobias we’re talking about.

  They’d been talking about her marrying an agent. Now she was even more intrigued, and perhaps a tiny bit apprehensive.