by Beth Byers
Jimmy was halfway to his desk before he realized he was not alone. He slowed, swung around looking guilty and called out “What are you doing here, Miss Dutcher?”
She greeted him with a smile as she motioned toward the telephone. “Doing a little work. Making a telephone call. What are you doing? I didn’t realize you come it to work on Saturdays.”
“Um, I don’t. Just came in to get something I forgot.”
“Go on then, don’t let me stop you.”
Jimmy didn’t move. Sweat broke out on his brow. Abigail saw his discomfort and concern for Jimmy’s welfare overrode her worries from yesterday.
“What’s wrong Jimmy? Is it something I can help you with?” She hurried over, but he shoved her away.
“No. Why did you have to look into that dead boy’s story, huh? Now you’re spoiling everything.”
“I don’t understand. How am I spoiling anything?”
He shot her a furious look. “You asked questions when you should have let things be. That’s how.”
The hairs at the nape of Abigail’s neck rose. Her voice shook when she asked “What did you do, Jimmy? What did you take from the alley yesterday?”
Jimmy’s face paled. He grabbed her around the arm and squeezed so hard she knew she would have bruises tomorrow if she survived this. She needed to stay calm and get answers.
Jimmy seemed to panic as he struggled with his internal demons. When he spoke his voice shook with anger. “I didn’t do nothing. It was them that killed Scotty.” He pulled at his hair as if he could rid himself of his memories. “I couldn’t leave him like that with that knife sticking out of his gut, so I pulled it out. I thought he was dead, but he wasn’t. I was going to run for help, but then he begged me to stay. And he’s my only kin, you know? So I didn’t. I don’t know how long I sat there ’til he was gone. It was then I realized if someone saw me they’d think I done it, so I hid the knife in our usual spot. Nobody knows ‘bout it but Scotty an’ me.”
“You mean the hole behind the loose brick in the wall,” said Abigail slowly, her mind reeling. “Did you see who stabbed Scotty?”
Jimmy shook his head. “Only that he was big and as drunk as one could be. And now, Scotty won’t get no justice.”
“Is Scotty your brother?”
“He was.” The haunted expression on his face was too raw to be anything but real. Abigail had known that kind of hurt. The hurt that comes when the people you love most are suddenly gone. Sobs wracked his body and his grip on her arms loosened as he crumpled to the floor.
Abigail’s first instinct was to run, to get as far away as she could, then sort it all out later, but she didn’t let herself give in to fear. Instead, she made herself sit beside the young man and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. An idea formed in her head.
Adopting the soothing tone Margaret had used when her parents had died, she said “Jimmy, I know people who can help you sort this all out. But, they can’t help you if you don’t come forward and tell what you know. Can you trust me to help you?”
Jimmy’s body tensed, but just as quickly the fight went out of him and he nodded, his words muffled when he asked “Why would you help me? You‘re a lady, I’m just a nobody kid. I ain’t got no money to pay the magistrate—”
“I’m no better than you or anyone else. You deserve justice as much as anyone. You’ve suffered a great loss, so let me take care of this, all right?”
Unconvinced but too exhausted to argue, Jimmy shrugged and hung his head.
Abigail went back to George’s desk to ring Mr. Townsend. She didn’t know Mr. Townsend well, and she was not convinced he had her best interests at heart, but she’d deal with that later if needed. For now, she needed he and her friend Timothy’s help.
Mr. Townsend answered on the second ring.
“Townsend residence.”
“Hello Mr. Townsend, this is Abigail Dutcher—”
“Hello! Please call me Isaac. I’m glad you called. I feared after speaking to your maid this morning there would be little chance you would agree to meet with me again.”
Abigail could almost visualize him smiling on the other end of the line.
“My maid enjoys tormenting men who come to my door unannounced, but that is not why I’ve called.”
“Oh? Do you receive many?”
Abigail ignored the inquiry. In a subdued voice she said “I fear a colleague of mine has found himself in a legal pickle that will probably involve the police. I’m uncertain what type of law you practice, but I am hoping you will agree to meet me first so we can discuss the matter at length. See what options are available for him.”
“I see. Would a meeting at my office in say twenty minutes be agreeable to you?”
Abigail’s gaze flew to where Jimmy still sat unmoving on the floor. “I’m not sure. Would you be willing to come to the Gazette?”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Oh, and one more thing.” Abigail whispered before Isaac could disconnect the line.
“Yes?”
“Would you be so kind to call New Scotland Yard and ask for Inspector Timothy Gibbs to join you? He is a friend of mine, and I believe he is investigating the matter in question. You may tell him, you are acting on my behalf.”
“I can do that.”
“Thank you,” she said, and the line disconnected.
“Well?” Jimmy asked when Abigail emerged from the office and dropped into a nearby chair.
She gave the youth a wane smile. “He’s coming.”
Chapter Five
“All rise!”
Abigail stood and absently smoothed out the wrinkles of her green linen skirt. To her right, Inspector Timothy Gibbs stood tall in his inspectors suit while Edith Cummings stood on the other. In front of the bench Isaac and Jimmy waited while the district judge took his seat and prepared to hand down his verdict. Abigail clutched her skirt.
The gavel banged against the desk and the judge’s booming voice carried throughout the courtroom as he said “Will the accused, James Michael Atkins, please step forward.”
Jimmy and Isaac approached the bench. Abigail bit her lip.
“Upon reviewing the evidence presented, and the prepared statements provided by key witnesses, it is my determination that while you have committed several infractions, including tampering with and withholding evidence of a crime, I find you innocent of the crime of murder—”
Jimmy’s narrow face lit with excitement, as a cheer went up all around. The judge frowned the audience into silence then continued. “For your willful interference in withholding evidence, I sentence you to a six-month probationary period, the nature of which is to be determined at a later date.” The judge banged his gavel again, his deep baritone ringing out once more. “Next case.”
“Jimmy’s free! I can’t believe it,” Abigail breathed hardly able to contain her excitement. Edith hugged her then she turned to Timothy and hugged him too adding a heartfelt “Thank you for everything”. They made their way over to where Jimmy stood shaking hands with Mr. Townsend.
“Yeah,” Edith grinned. “I was so sure our Jimmy would hang. Don’t tell poor Jimmy I said that.”
“You already did,” Jimmy said, though it was clear he wasn’t bothering by Edith’s admission.
Edith’s face fell. “So sorry Jimmy dear.”
Jimmy shrugged. “Truth be told, I figured I would hang too. No offense Mr. Townsend. the only reason I’m not is ‘cause Inspector Gibbs and Miss Dutcher spoke up for me. I can’t thank you enough ma’am.”
“There is no need to thank me.” Abigail said feeling self-conscious with everyone’s eyes upon her.
“I couldn’t disagree more,” Isaac stated closing his briefcase. “However, we can discuss that later. For now, we celebrate today’s victory. Tomorrow we continue our search for the man who killed your brother. The case is not over.”
“How do you plan to do that?” Edith asked.
It was Timothy who answe
red. “We keep looking for witnesses and asking questions. The Metropolitan Police Service has allowed me to keep the investigation open for the time being. However, unless I can come up with a new lead soon, I suspect they will lose interest and order me to close the case.”
“I want to see justice done for my kid brother. He was the last family I had.” Jimmy hung his head, his momentary joy at being cleared of the crime gone.
Isaac placed a comforting hand on the youth’s shoulder.
Abigail decided a change of subject was in order. She pasted a bright smile on her face, and said “I believe we all have a celebration to attend this evening, at Jake’s. Seven o’clock sharp.”
There was a chorus of assurances that people would be on time before everyone said their goodbyes. The men left to accompany Jimmy home and Edith returned to work. That left Abigail alone on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse considering all that had happened in the two weeks that had brought her here.
There was much more she didn’t know, about Jimmy, his brother and why Scotty was living on the streets, but she was confident she’d learn it all in due time. She would have to hope it would be enough to help track down the murderer.
Now she needed to get home and change. She was eager for a lovely night filled with dancing, drinks and wonderful company. It had been too long.
As she contemplated whether to hail a taxi, a familiar face approached her.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the individual said, her voice high and strained.
“Eli!” Abigail exclaimed, surprised and more pleased than she cared to admit at seeing the girl.
“You remember.”
“I do. It’s not every day, a young lady tries to steal my purse.”
“I ain’t no young lady,” Eli snickered, though it was clear the girl was pleased. Then her expression turned serious. “I got a lead for ya.”
“A lead?”
“Yeah, for who done in Scotty.”
Abigail’s heart raced with excitement. She forced herself to remain calm. “You knew Scotty?”
“We all knew him.”
Oh. “What information do you have?”
Eli’s voice dripped with hatred. “Amos Wood’s his name. Lives in Chelsea off Fulham Road. But ye can‘t tell no one, but that lawyer friend of yours, I sent ya.”
“I won’t,” assured Abigail, committing both the name and address to memory. She wasn’t sure why that was important, but she would try to honor the request. She forced her shaking hands to dig in and withdraw two shillings from her purse and drop them in Eli’s outstretched palm. Before the girl could run off however she added “Will I see you again?”
“Maybe.” The girl grinned then disappeared into the crowd.
Four hours later, dressed in her favorite black and red tasseled gown, with bangles at her wrists and neck, Abigail sauntered into Jake’s. She‘d insisted on coming alone. The scents of smoke and bourbon permeated the air and the throaty strains of a saxophone made her want to sway to the music.
“Hello there, beautiful,” Isaac’s voice spoke softly in her ear.
Abigail turned and greeted him with a smile, allowing herself to admire him in return. Into her hand, he placed Singapore Sling. She took a sip and purred with pleasure as the xx slid down her throat. “My favorite. How did you know?”
“Your friend, Timothy,” Isaac admitted tipping his head in the bar's direction where Timothy pretended to ignore them. “Tell me, are you and he involved?”
“Not in the manner you mean,” Abigail said, not wanting to explain her and Timothy’s long and complicated friendship.
Abigail could see the questions in Isaac’s gaze, but she ignored them and after a minute as the song being played wound down to its end, he changed the subject. “Young Atkins is quite the saxophone player. I’m surprised he chose journalism over a career in music.”
“He is,” agreed Abigail and waved at Jimmy up on stage as they joined Timothy at the bar.
The bartender arrived and set another cocktail in front of Isaac, and Abigail decided it was time to tell these men what Eli had told her earlier in the day.
“Would either of you gentlemen happen to know a man who goes by the name Amos Wood?”
Isaac shook his head. Timothy however, froze, his martini glass halfway to his lips. Slowly he lowered the glass back to the counter, his features darkening with an emotion he was doing his best to hide. “He’s a criminal, and very dangerous. Where did you hear of him?”
Abigail told them, including the location Eli had given her.
Timothy downed the rest of his martini and pushed away from the bar. “I wouldn’t put much stock in what the girl says, Abby. No doubt the girl’s heard the name. Most on the street have, but Chelsea’s too elite for the likes of Wood. Still, I’ll checked out. For now, it’s probably best not to mention this to Jimmy, agreed?”
Abigail agreed.
“Excellent. Now, I will say goodnight.”
“Why? I only just arrived, and we haven’t even danced yet.”
“I’m sure Isaac is more than capable of filling your dance card.”
“But—”
Several emotions flashed across Timothy‘s face so fast Abigail wasn’t sure what to make of it, but then he sighed, squeezed her hand and pressed his lips to her forehead. When he stepped back, he said “I’ve got work to do. Enjoy the evening Abby.” Without another word he walked out the door into the night.
Abigail stood there trying to sort out the reason for Timothy’s abrupt departure when the band struck up a new melody and Isaac claimed her hand.
“Dance with me,” He said and led her onto the dance floor.
For a long minute they didn’t speak as they swayed slowly to the music. But as the music crescendoed to the end, she worked up the courage to ask “Why do you suppose Timothy left like that?”
Isaac didn’t answer right away, and when he did, she was sorry to have asked. “I think your Inspector Gibbs is half mad in love with you.”
She laughed, refusing to believe. “I don’t think so. Timothy just fancies himself to be my older brother. He enjoys ordering me about, and I don’t like being ordered about.”
“If you say so,” though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“I do.”
Isaac wisely refrained from saying more and when the next song started up, Abigail blessedly lost herself in the music's rhythm and spent the next several hours dancing and drinking the night away.
The End
To my British readers, please know this book is written in American English. Thank you for your patience.
The next installment in the Abigail Mystery serious is coming soon and is available for preorder here.
An Impractical Proposal
By Bettie Jane
A Julie Barlow Short Story
Chapter One
February 14, 1921
Mayfair, London
Julia snuck a glance at the handsome Scotland Yard Inspector who drove them to pick up Mattie, who had no idea she was about to be the victim of a charming, exceedingly romantic prank.
Jacob was a rather serious driver, both hands on the wheel and eyes straight ahead—the polar opposite of Julia’s frantic driving style. Just one of many differences between the two of them, differences that would not keep them apart.
She’d been waiting for Jacob Gibbs to kiss her since November and now that he finally had, only moments before they got in the auto, she could scarcely concentrate on anything else. She fought the urge to reach out from her side of the auto and stroke his beard. It would irritate him to no end, which was normally precisely why she’d do so, but they’d made-up after quite a horrific period of a days-long dispute. No, today was a day to celebrate love, and she couldn’t bring herself to needle him quite yet. She wanted to bask in the glow of their newly-acknowledged love affair.
They made their way down the narrow, tree-lined streets toward Mattie’s home, and Julia settled for moving a to
uch closer to her handsome driver. She couldn’t quite bring herself to refer to him, even in her mind, as her boyfriend, even though he’d declared his intent that she be his girlfriend, an intent with which she wholly agreed and celebrated. Still, he was her Inspector or her Jacob, not her boyfriend. That word felt inadequate to describe the feelings she had for Jacob.
“You’ve got to catch me up, Julia,” he said as he concentrated on the road. “We are picking up Mattie, and she doesn’t know about the surprise Frankie has planned for her. What does she know? I don’t want to be the cad who ruins the surprise for her.”
It was like her Inspector to be so concerned with following the rules, even for something like this. She couldn’t help but smile, and this time she did reach out, ever so briefly, and run the back of her hand over his cheekbone. She moved her hand before he had a chance to complain, but he reached out and grabbed it before she could draw away. Much to her pleasure, he kept a comfortable grip, clearly not intending to give it up. Her smile grew bigger, if that was possible.
“Mattie knows that we are all going to see a private performance of the famed opera tenor, Enrico Caruso. He’s not performed in London in quite awhile. Primarily, he’s been performing at the Met in New York most recently in December, so it’s a big deal that he’s performing in London. Rumor has it that he took ill and his public performances are all but behind him. I still don’t know how Frankie managed to arrange this now that his family isn’t rolling in the money any longer. Mattie loves the opera and especially this tenor, so it really is the perfect thing. Frankie outdid himself.”
“She knows we’re going to the opera but has no idea about the proposal?”
“Right. She also thinks we’re going to the Royal Opera instead of the Royal Albert Hall, since he’s performing only for us. Our job is simply to get her there without raising suspicion.”
“Do we need a plan not to raise suspicion?”
