by Lynn Donovan
A knot clenched in Laurel’s abdomen. What was he saying? Did he know she was affiliated with the Ghost Thief?
“As I said, hidden in plain sight, but securely stored. I assure you, the thief, should he learn of this treasure, will be caught red-handed trying to get through this safe. It is impenetrable.”
Laurel suppressed a smile. He did not know her secret, nor that there had never been a safe she couldn’t penetrate. “How very clever of you, Mr. Tabor. Shall we alert the Chief of Police that we have our bait?”
“Yes, my dear, you may— but first, let us re-join my lovely wife for the second half of the Broadway play.”
Laurel’s eyebrow went up as she tipped her head back, to acknowledge Tabor’s offer. How she wished she could get away from them both to pass a message on to her father.
Ransom squeezed her arm. Was he just as anxious to get word to the chief? He pulled her closer to his side. “We’ll be right behind you, sir. Please go on without us.”
Tabor hesitated, then closed his mouth with a great deal of resolve. “As you wish.”
He re-entered the theater, leaving her and Ransom on the boardwalk. She turned swiftly, looking around for a boy. “You write the message, I’ll find a street kid to deliver it.”
“I was thinking we’d just walk over to the police department.” Ransom took her hand, putting it at his elbow.
“Ransom! You saw the look of disappointment on Mrs. Tabor’s face. We have to go back. It’s only… proper.”
He sighed. “Must we?”
“Yes. Besides, don’t you want to find out how it ends?” She chuckled.
“Not really.” Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “But you’re right. We Pinkerton’s are nothing if not polite and respectable men—I mean people.”
A smile grew on her mouth. “Yes. We certainly are.”
A gang of boys ran in the street toward them, kicking a can. Laurel stepped away from Ransom and entered the street in front of them. She boldly placed her boot on top of their object of amusement. They all stopped, surprised. “Which one of you would like to earn a dollar?”
They all raised their hands. She glanced up with a smile at Ransom who waited on the boardwalk.
“Alright.” She pointed at the taller boy. “You—go over there to that gentleman and do what he asks. The rest of you come here.” She took a few steps farther away from Ransom and squatted down. With the boys gathered around her, hiding her actions, she pulled several coins from her purse, then handed one to each of the boys in turn. When the smallest among them put out his grimy little hand, she gently took hold of it.
“I want you to take this.” She tore a bank bill in half and scratched out a quick note on the back, then folded it over. She lifted her eyes toward Ransom who was involved with giving the older boy instructions and thankfully not paying attention to what she was doing with the boys. She placed the note and the two remaining coins in the boy’s palm and whispered in his ear. He nodded. The other boys watched him curiously, still fisting the coin they had all been handed. “Hey, how come he gots more coin?”
“Shush now. Never you mind.” She tipped her head to the coins in their hands. “That’s between him and me. Besides, your coin buys your silence. Do you understand?”
“Yes ma’am.” They answered in unison and ran to the mercantile down the street. The smaller boy who carried her note glanced back with a wide grin, then turned to follow the boys. Laurel glanced at Ransom, who was busy writing a note, and back to the small boy. The child veered off to an alley and disappeared in the shadows.
Laurel stood in time to see Ransom toss a large coin in the air. The taller boy caught it, then touched the brim of his hat and nodded confirmation. He ran toward the police station. Laurel grinned as Ransom’s eyes met hers. She joined him on the boardwalk and together they returned to the theater box seat to drink champagne with Mrs. Tabor and contemplate what would happen next.
Ransom knew it was the right thing to do, finish watching the second half of the play with the Tabors, but his mind was nowhere near that theater box seat. How to out-fox the Ghost Thief and lure him into a trap? Perhaps a newspaper article announcing the artifact on display along with the poster and its true origin and value? He would need to know more about how Mr. Tabor had secured the piece. Surely the shadow box where it was displayed was more than a framed-out window. He would need to discuss it in detail with Horace.
He squeezed Laurel’s hand. She squeezed back. Was her mind on the performance or the case, or could she be thinking… about him— that unsolicited kiss he’d promised to never do again? Knowing her as he did, her brain was probably working through several ideas for catching the thief. Would this play ever end? He couldn’t wait to share his plans with her.
A sudden burst of applause penetrated Ransom’s thoughts. Mrs. Tabor had leapt to her feet, wildly clapping.
“Bravo! Bravo!” The crowd shouted.
He looked at Laurel, who clapped politely and tilted her head toward the stage, telling him to look for himself. The actor, a large muscular, bare-chested man wearing a bright red satin scarf around his waist and billowy, mustard colored pants, held his hands high in the air. He strained as though he were lifting something terribly heavy. His clawed hands were empty, however. Ransom searched the scene and realized above the man’s head, a sickle sword, like the one in the display outside, seemingly hovered far above his head. How on earth did he do this trickery? Were there wires holding the sword? But then the man shoved his hands toward another actor and the sword, seemingly, of its own accord, flew across the stage and killed the other actor. Or so it seemed. A magic act had been incorporated into the scene. And executed rather well, he might add.
Ransom clapped politely. It was a good trick, but his mind remained on trapping the Ghost Thief. He had sent a note to the Chief of Police by the street urchin. What Laurel didn’t know was that Ransom had paid the boy double to deliver a similar note to Archie. The boys that Laurel gave some coins to had run straight to the mercantile, probably to fill their pockets with penny candy. Naïve children, if they’d pooled their money, they could have shared a decent meal. He chuckled. But evidently, she couldn’t stand not fairly rewarding the entire gang. Her equitable kindness became one more item on his list of reasons he enjoyed her company.
At last, the play ended. Mr. and Mrs. Tabor led the way to the lobby. Mrs. Tabor clung to Mr. Tabor’s arm with an unsteady gait. Perhaps she’d had a little too much intermission bubbly. Ransom stopped before exiting the theater. “Mr. Tabor, could we have a moment of your time, before we part?”
He shot a concerned look toward his wife, then returned a pleasant response to Ransom. “As you can see, my wife needs to return to our home. Perhaps we could discuss whatever you have tomorrow?”
Laurel stepped forward and took Mrs. Tabor’s free arm, steadying her in the exchange. “I’ll be happy to stay with Mrs. Tabor while you two talk a moment. Don’t be too long, dear.” She smiled sweetly and directed the wobbly woman toward a replica of a regal chair and let her sit.
“Well, it seems I am at your disposal.” Mr. Tabor clasped his hand and waited for Ransom to present his question.
“Yes. Thank you. This won’t take but a minute.” He guided Mr. Tabor toward the poster display. “So that we know what we are up against, what do we actually have here? Obviously, you would not put such a valuable artifact in an ordinary shadow box.”
“No. This is a safe. I had it specially made with the glass wall. It opens from the top and not by a mere combination, but three which have to be synchronously set. They must be released at the same time.” His eyes brightened with excitement. “Quite clever, if I do say so myself.”
Ransom smiled. “Yes. So we will let this information ‘leak’ to the public. Mrs. Williams and I will discuss how best to do that, and we will maintain surveillance until the Ghost Thief makes his move.”
“Very well.” Mr. Tabor’s eyes darted toward his wife. “I hope you two kno
w what you’re doing. I would hate to lose this item, after everything I’ve been through… to obtain it.”
Ransom suppressed a huff. “I assure you, sir. A Pinkerton never sleeps until his… or her case is solved.”
Mr. Tabor nodded and the two shook hands.
Ransom joined Laurel. Mr. Tabor helped his wife to her feet and the two couples walked out to a star-filled evening sky. “Let’s walk home, Ransom. It’s such a lovely evening.”
“Anything you wish, my love.” Ransom marveled at how easy it was to pretend to be the doting husband. Even Laurel looked a little rattled by his words, but she smiled, accepting his answer and allowing him to take her hand, place it in his bent elbow. They walked together down the boardwalk. She sighed and leaned her head against his arm. It was a nice night for a walk.
A block, then two, they walked in silence. Then Laurel spoke. “So, what are you thinking? A news leak to the Denver Tribune?”
“Not a leak, exactly. More of a hint.” Ransom never ceased to be amazed with her thinking similarly to him.
“A hint? So have the editor do a write-up about the play, along with a picture of the lobby?”
“Precisely.” He met her eyes. She was so beautiful. Especially when she concentrated on an idea. “The Ghost Thief is very intuitive. He’ll figure it out.”
“How quickly do you suppose they can get an article published?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A little influence by a Pinkerton agent might prompt an editor to quickly get such an important news item into ink. If we knew where John Barrett could be found at this hour— perhaps—”
She looked around, knowing the Tribune editor frequented the Apollo Hall. “Let’s try our luck at Apollo’s.”
He smiled at his wife and slapped the side of a taxi carriage. The driver jerked awake. He gladly took them, with an extra coin, to the rougher side of town, Larimer Square. As they rode, Ransom told her about the safe’s three dials and his plan.
CHAPTER TEN
Anticipating the theatrics Ransom had in mind thrilled Laurel. Never in her life had she had so much fun deceiving people. All within the confines of the law of course. How different being a Pinkerton was to being a Ghost Thief. The Taxi rocked to a halt outside of the saloon where they hoped the John Barrett, the editor in chief, would be enjoying his evening libations. Ransom peeked over the bat-wing doors. “He’s there. Follow my lead.”
He grabbed her around the shoulders and fell against the swinging doors, stumbling into the saloon. She stumbled in with him and hiccuped. He straightened, but wavered slightly. “Barkeep! A round for ev’ybody!”
Those seated at poker tables and the bar cheered. Ransom and Laurel were welcomed to the bar and stools were cleared for them to have a seat in the middle of the masses. Ransom tossed several bills on the counter and the bartender began pouring refills for everyone.
“What you celebrating?” The bartender asked at last.
“You won’t believe what we just saw!” He tugged at Laurel’s shoulders, jostling her in a side-ways hug.
She laughed and pushed him away. “It was the best production I’ve ever seen. Those effects were amazing!”
“Yes, my darlin’ wife. How did they make that sword float in the air?”
Laurel noticed the Tribune editor in chief perk up. He slowly stood and brought his empty glass to the counter for one of the generous refills. Casually parting the men standing next to Laurel, he placed the glass where the bartender quickly filled it to the brim. “What’s this amazin’ production you two are celebrating?”
Ransom lifted his eyes to the man and squeezed them, as if trying to focus. “It was a Broadway Production of Forty Thieves, right here in Denver City!” He stepped around Laurel and fell onto the editor’s shoulders, patting down his lapel. “A Broadway production, I tell ya!”
Ransom wiped spit from his mouth and straightened, but wavered. Laurel steadied him by gripping his arms and letting him lean against her seated on the stool. The Editor’s frowned and waved dismissively. “So what? So Horace Tabor spend a lot of money? What’s news about that?”
Ransom leaned into the editor, reached into his own breast pocket and pulled out his Pinkerton Badge. “Trust me, my friend. It’s news that you’re gonna want to print on the Tribune’s front page.” The seriously sober tone of his voice caused the disdainful smile to slide from the editor’s face.
He leaned back from Williams, eying him carefully. “And why would I want to do that?”
“Because.” Ransom growled quietly, so only the editor could hear. “The Pinkerton National Detective Agency is asking you nicely. And we got a particular picture in mind for your article.”
“And what might that be, Mr. Pinkerton Agent?”
Ransom smiled. The name’s Williams. Ransom Williams, and this is my partner, Laurel Williams. We are on a big case and we need a picture and a write up about the play at Tabor’s Opera House in the paper. Got it?”
Barrett bobbed his head.
“Now, take your fancy photo box down there and take a picture of the lobby. Make sure you get a good clean shot of the display case with the poster inside it. But don’t make it too obvious that’s what you’re taking the picture of. Just make sure it’s included in the… uh, the lobby and theater entrance.”
“What’s so special about the display case?”
Williams grabbed Barrett’s lapel and pulled him close to his face. “That’s sensitive information, Buddy, and you don’t need to know. In fact, if you breath a word other than your cultural interest in the fact that we got a Broadway Play here in Denver, trust me, it’ll be the last tip you ever get from a Pinkerton. You got that?”
Sweat oozed from Barrett’s forehead. He licked his lips. “I-I got it.”
“Good.” Ransom released the man, smoothed out his lapel and turned to the bartender. “Barkeep! Give my man a cup a strong coffee. He’s just realized he’s got an important story to write and needs a little sobering up.”
Their trap was set. The editor would put the picture in the paper. The Ghost Thief was astute and would realize the display case had the artifact hidden in plain sight. All they had to do now was set up a stake-out and watch that display case.
The barkeep put a mug in front of Mr. Barrett and poured it full of coffee. He drank it quickly, despite how hot it was. “May I go now?”
“By all mean, my good man. You should get going.” Williams rocked back and blinked his eyes slowly. He had returned to his role as the drunk zealous customer.
“Another, my good man!” Ransom held his glass out and slammed it down on the counter as the barkeep poured more whisky. When he turned back, the editor was gone and the bat-wing doors still swung on their hinges. Ransom held his drink up to Laurel and drank it in one gulp.
She watched him cringe as he swallowed the harsh liquid. He slammed the glass down hard on the counter and put his hand around her waist, drawing her against his chest. Her softness melted into his firmness. He paused, just inches from her lips, his eyes captivated by the pillowy softness of her mouth. “Laurel, I love you.” His lips engulfed hers, pressing hard, easing back, then pressing again as passion exploded between them.
Was he drunk? He couldn’t be. This was all an act, to persuade the newspaper editor to put the article in the next edition. He leaned back from her and staggered. She opened her eyes and sighed. “We should get home.”
He nodded and led her from the saloon. Several men whistled and waved goodbye as she and Ransom slipped through the doors.
By the time they walked into the apartment, the alcohol was effecting Ransom’s tongue. Laurel aided him to the chair. “We should go straight to bed.”
“You’re absolu’ly right.” Ransom grabbed after her retreating body.
“You sleep on the floor, remember?”
Disappointment washed over his face. “I remem’er.”
Laurel didn’t undress, but stretched out on her bed waiting for Ransom to fall asleep. Her mind
swirled with confusion. He didn’t mean those words, Laurel, I love you. He didn’t know what he was saying. Or else, it was all an act, just for show to get information. Even intoxicated, a Pinkerton had his wits about him. Didn’t they? She touched her lips. The sensation from his kiss still lingered, befuddling her mind.
Her lies. Could she continue to lie to him when he gave such wonderful kisses? He was her husband after all. And, it did’t seem like such a bad idea for him to be her husband in truth.
What was she thinking? Viciously, she tore the thought down. She had a job to do, regardless of the fire in her heart. Regardless of whether she wanted to or not, she had a job to do—
A snore rumbled with Ransom’s breathing. He was asleep. She slipped into her black britches, black blouse, a rib-hugging waist-coat, and soft, black boots. The alcohol deepened his sleep, but she moved as quiet as a cat, like she’d been taught, just in case he had faked his level of intoxication.
She stayed out of the street lamps’ light and in the dark alleys as she made her way to the opera house. Using a hairpin, she jimmied the lock and entered the theater from the service entrance. The dark and empty building echoed the silence of her foot steps. Her vision was unimpaired because her eyes had adjusted to the darkness while in the alleys. She stepped gingerly, heel to toe, as she made her way through to the lobby. A noise, metal hitting against metal, brought her to a halt. Listening for the cause, she didn’t dare move. Then a muffled whisper emanated from behind the wall. “Laurel? Is that you?”
She sighed. “Yes father. I should of known you were already here.”
“Come here. I need your help.”
Her arms went lax at her sides. “What is it?”
“This safe is nothing I’ve ever seen before. Can you open it.”
“Seriously? Couldn’t you wait until we actually set the trap for you?”
“What’s the fun in that?”
She sighed again and looked for the door to get to where he was. A long narrow passage housed the safe, especially made to emulate a display case. “Tabor told Ransom it has three dials. They have to be tripped at the same time.”
