An Agent for Annie

by Lynn Donovan

  Annie hung her head and sighed.

  “You alright?” Bruno took her arm.

  She looked up to see the steward’s expression of concern. It was time to board the train, and she was holding up the line. “Oh. Yes. I was just thinking about home.”

  Bruno nodded and guided her up the steps. He leaned against her ear so only she could hear. His warm breath sent a chill down her spine. “We have a private sleeper. I figured that way we could spread out our papers and speak freely about the case.”

  “Yes… Good.” She pondered once again what it had taken for her to be on the train from Nebraska to Denver. The sacrifices everyone had made to pay for her ticket, a sleeping berth, food, and lodging. Now here she was with an expense account and sitting in a private sleeper. Her life as a Pinkerton agent was vastly different already.

  The train eased out of the station, and she and Bruno settled in. She on one couch and he on the other, facing each other. The content of the dossier spread out beside them as they perused the information one more time, each making notes in their leather-bound notebooks. When she wasn’t writing a note, she shuffled the tarot cards so they’d look well-worn and often used. Her new derringer felt odd strapped to her thigh, but in time she forgot it was there. Silence between them, as they studied the information, was comfortable and quite pleasant. She glanced up every so often to see him buried in his thoughts and making copious notes. As the sun dimmed the car, she looked up to find him staring at her.

  “Are you ever going to be hungry again?” He grimaced a smile.

  “Oh, gosh. I was so lost in studying this case, I forgot all about lunch. You must be starving.”

  “Well, not starving exactly, but I could eat.”

  She giggled and gathered her papers, he did the same and they put them back in the dossier. They placed the dossier and their notebooks under the cushions on the couch and walked down to the dining car.

  “I have some ideas,” she whispered.

  “So do I. We’ll talk about them when we get back in our cabin.”

  She nodded and continued traversing the long hall of train cars until they reached the diner. He had a hardy dish of meatloaf and mashed, she had a light sliced turkey sandwich and hot tea. Soon they were back in their sleeper car and the dossier was in her lap.

  “So, I thought—”

  “What I was thinking—”

  They said at the same time and laughed. She gestured toward him with her palm up.

  “You go first.” She folded her hands over the dossier.

  “Well… alright.” He opened his notebook. “When we get to Vegas, our first objective is to figure out where Melinda will conduct her soothsaying.”

  “Agreed.” Annie nodded. “And how do we do that?”

  Bruno’s eyes darted to meet hers. “I have no idea, but I sent Mr. Gordon a telegram before we left and I’m hoping he’ll be able to guide us to that end.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, we’ll find out when we get there. So, if you are Mystical Melinda, how are we going to guide Mrs. Toffler to you— uh, her?”

  Annie stared up at the luggage rack. She drew her lip into her mouth. “I-I have an idea, but how much leeway do we have for expenses?”

  Bruno stared at her mouth. She released the lip, embarrassment filled her cheeks with an unwanted heat. He appeared to consider her question. “Almost limitless, within reason, what do you have in mind?”

  Next time the train stops, would we have enough time for me to send another telegram?”

  “To Mr. Gordon?”

  “No.”

  “Then, who?”

  Annie smiled.

  

  “Bruno! Slow down!” Annie hurried to keep up with him. He knew he shouldn’t walk so fast, but solving this case could be founded on whether Mr. Gordon did what Bruno had asked him to do in the telegram he sent before boarding the train.

  “I’m sorry. We need to find a newspaper.”

  “A newspaper? Why?”

  “I asked Gordon to place an advert.”

  A dirty boy, maybe eight years old, with the typical newsboy hat turned sideways on his matted head stood in the path to the hotel. “Paper, get your paper here!”

  “Hey, son!” Bruno approached the kid, waving a coin in the air. When the newsboy looked up at Bruno’s height and girth, he staggered back, swallowed hard, and handed him a paper. Bruno paid the boy and rushed back to Annie Kate. He shook the paper to straighten it and turned the pages until he found what he was looking for. “Here it is.” His eyes ran down the double column ad. “Oh nice job, Mr. Gordon. Listen to this:

  “Fortune Teller Extraordinaire coming to Las Vegas, Nevada. Mystical Melinda is making her appearance in the Western United States of America. Residents and travelers are welcome to visit her at the Temple of Mysteries anytime between the hours of 10:00 a.m. and 1:00 p.m. She will cast the horoscope for all callers and tell them the events of their past life and reveal what the future has in store. The Great Asiatic Sibyl proudly announces that she has cast the horoscope of all the crowned heads of Europe, Asia, Africa, and Oceania. She specializes in helping the sorrowful and afflicted. She will tell who lies to you, who hates you, and who is trying to injure you. She will show you your future husband or wife. For a meager fee of $10.00, you will know what Mystical Melinda knows about your future.”

  “Wow.” Annie Kate blinked hard. “I almost want to go to her myself!”

  Her laugh stirred something very pleasant in Bruno’s chest. He wished he could make her laugh all the time. But right now, he needed to focus on the case.

  “Now all we gotta—”

  “Bruno—”

  “— do is find a place—”

  “Uh, Bruno—”

  “—where we can set up a Temple of Mysteries—”

  “Bruno!” Annie Kate slapped his arm with the back of her hand.

  “What?” He gawked at her. Why did she keep interrupting?

  “Look!” She pointed at the front page of the Vegas Gazette. He folded it closed and looked. Then winced, his head flopped back on his shoulders, his eyes closed tight. “P. T. Barnum’s Grand Traveling Museum, Menagerie, Caravan and Hippodrome.” He sighed. “Of course, it’s in town.”

  “That’s where we set up for Mysterious Melinda. And you can get us in.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He sighed heavily. “It’s perfect— come with me.”

  She scurried to catch up with him, feeling terrible that she’d suggested the circus. “I’m sorry. I realize you said you’d never—“

  He sighed again, even heavier. “It’s for the case. I can do it for the case. Besides it’s not forever, just until we solve this and bring Liza back home.”

  Annie Kate stopped. He turned to see why she wasn’t beside him. “What?”

  “Like marrying me… for the case.”

  “Well, yes.” His shoulders drooped as he walked back to her. “No. Not exactly like that.” Tsking his tongue, he frowned. “Goodness me, you married me for the same reason. You cannot begin to try to convince me that you are enjoying having a husband who— looks like me.”

  Annie Kate tilted her head, her eyes softened like a found kitten begging to be held. She reached up to bracket his face with her tiny hands. “I respect and admire you, Bruno Thomas. Your scars are your valor. You have been through so much. And you’re a darn good detective. I’ve learned so much from you already. Honestly, I’m proud to call you my husband. In fact, I’m sorry that we are required to separate with an annulment when this case is solved.”

  What was she saying? Did she mean what he thought she meant. She didn’t want an annulment? Neither did he! But how could he expect a dainty, pretty, little thing like her to remain married to a big ole oaf, like himself? “What… what are you saying?”

  She smiled sweetly. “I’m saying…” She dropped her gaze and stepped back. “I’m not sure what I’m saying. What are you saying?”

  “I’m not s
aying anything, you brought this up.”

  “No, you said—” She hung her head. “Never mind. Who do we talk to so we can get a tent for the Mysterious Melinda’s Temple of Mysteries?”

  Yeah, back to the case. This conversation could be had while they were stuck on a train, returning to Denver. But now, he had an inkling of hope she might consider the possibility of staying married.

  Maybe.

  “I tell you what.” Bruno folded the paper and pressed it under his arm as they walked toward the hotel. “Let’s get checked into this hotel. You can… freshen up or whatever it is women do after a long train ride, I’ll get us in with the circus. When I get back, we can decide on what we need in order to pull this off. I have a feeling we will want another Pinkerton Agent, and that will take another two days to get them in position. While I’m out, I’ll send another telegram to Mr. Gordon so he can get someone heading this way—”

  “Already taken care of. Our new operative will be here tomorrow morning.” She grinned smugly, dipping her head coyly.

  “Really? Ah, the telegram you sent when the train stopped in Utah?”

  “Yes, Mr. Thomas. And I wired Mr. Gordon to transfer funds for the train ride, too.”

  “Well, aren’t you full of surprises, Mrs. Thomas.” Bruno took her hand and kissed the knuckle. “Who’d you ask Mr. Gordon to send? Wait! How’d you know who our other agents are?” He leaned back to get a better look at her.

  “You’ll see tomorrow.”

  Her smugness gave him pause. How would she know—? “Annie Kate, who did you send for?”

  “We talked about this on the train, we need someone to… coax Liza Toffler, right?”

  “Yeah.” He squinted one eye.

  “Well, I’ve sent for the most influential person I know.”

  “Who?”

  She playfully patted his chest. Could she feel the heavy thudding of his heart? “You’ll see tomorrow. And you’re right, I do need to freshen up. And you do need to get us into that circus. Then… let’s eat a nice, leisurely, noncompetitive meal.”

  He had to laugh with that. “You never cease to amaze me, Mrs. Thomas.”

  “Good. A husband should be kept in amazement, don’t you think?”

  One brow shot up high on his forehead. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been married before.”

  “Nor I, Mr. Thomas.” She laughed as she continued walking.

  He, being entangled with her hand around his elbow, had no choice but to continue with her. “Our client’s information about Mrs. Toffler’s childhood, married life, and what he knew of her time with Mr. Dominic Brautigan, was thorough enough that Mysterious Melinda should be able to convince Liza of her powers to tell her most unfortunate future if she does not mend her ways with her brother and husband. All we’ve got to do is find out where Mr. Toffler is now, what his intentions are toward his wayward wife, and also what our Mr. Brautigan’s intentions are. Mr. Gordon has assigned another agent to do that, find Mr. Toffler and ask these questions. Meanwhile, we’ll—”

  “Convince Liza Toffler to mend her ways.”

  Bruno stared at his wife in amazement. “Yes.”

  “I’ve got it. Let’s get checked in. I’m exhausted. When you get back, we’ll find where Mrs. Toffler and Mr. Brautigan are staying, if they are together, and come back here to make our plan of attack.”

  Bruno huffed in amusement. “Not attack, exactly, but certainly how we can get our targets lined up.”

  She smiled with a coy shrug. “Same thing, you'll see.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Bruno followed a hot air balloon floating in the sky, indicating where the circus had set up its giant tent with three rings of entertainment. He knew the set up and who to seek out. Small tents and wagons where the performers lived were neatly arranged off to one side of the giant striped tent. The man in the bright red tailcoat trimmed with gold braid and a top hat would be the ringmaster, Mr. P. T. Barnum himself. Bruno also knew to look for the more elaborate wagon. The ring leader, and owner, always had the better living quarters, albeit a compact gypsy wagon.

  He knocked on the frame of the auspicious mobile accommodation. A kindly gentleman poked his head out of a thick black curtain. “Yes?”

  Bruno yanked his hat off his head and postured himself humbly. “Excuse my intrusion, sir. But I’m looking for work.”

  Mr. Barnum placed one knee-high black boot on the step and floated a gander down Bruno’s large frame. Without his bright red coattails he didn’t appear to be as auspicious. He focused intently at Bruno’s cauliflower ear and numerous scars. “What can I do for you, Mister—?”

  “My name’s Toby Griffith, sir.”

  “And what is it you want from P. T. Barnum and Associates, Mr. Griffith.”

  “I ain’t never been beaten, not in bare-fist boxing, that is, sir. And I can make you a lot of money while you’re here in Las Vegas.”

  “I see.” He stepped down another step, angling his head to take in the full length of him. “My! You are a big man. A Behemoth Man,” he announced in his hyperbolic voice as if to see if it sounded as magnificent as he intended. “So, how would your boxing and never being beaten make me money?”

  Bruno smiled. “Well, sir, men don’t generally want to come to a circus. Oh, they want to, but they got work and it’s a matter of choosing their work over pleasure. But when they hear about The World’s Unbeatable Man, their interest is piqued. Businesses will close for a day so the men can come to try for the winnings, say twenty-five dollars, if they win.”

  Barnum’s eyes widened.

  Bruno grinned. He had him hooked. Now to reel him in. “You challenge the audience. Offer the money if they beat me, only they won’t. More men will buy tickets to come challenge me. You know, sir, men love a manly challenge and so your ticket sales will be greater. You can require they pay an additional ten cents to go at me. They won’t be able to beat me, so you won’t have to give them any money—”

  “Oh, I like that. But, how do I know you don’t ever lose?”

  “Care for a demonstration?” Bruno brought his fists up. “Where’s your strongest man?”

  Barnum nodded. “Okay, come with me.”

  Bruno followed Barnum down several trailers to a row of tents. “Bobby, I need to speak to you.”

  The bulging-muscled man ducked to walk out of the tent flap. A handlebar mustache curled in a spiral, it must have been the world’s longest mustache too. “This is Toby Griffith. I want you to fight him.”

  “What for?”

  “He says he’s unbeatable. I want to see if he is.”

  Bobby’s mustache widened as the man’s mouth curled into an amused smile. He had a gold tooth. “Alright.”

  He spit in both palms and doubled up his fists. Bruno yanked off his coat and handed it to Barnum, lifting his fists and facing the giant man. They turned, circling one another. Bobby dodged in and jumped back, sizing Bruno up. Bruno stared at his eyes, all the while keeping his awareness on his shoulders, neck, and jaw. Every man had a tell-tale muscle flinch just before they threw a punch. Bobbly jabbed toward Bruno’s jaw, but Bruno leaned back at the waist, just dodging the contact. The cords along the strong man’s jaw bulged.

  They circled again. When Bobby drew back his left hand, to really land a powerful punch, Bruno jabbed straight for his right jaw just in front of his ear. Whack! The man stiffened, his grin waned as his eyes rolled up in his head. He fell backward like a tree.

  Barnum watched him land in the dirt, dust billowing up around his huge frame. “Well. What do you know? You’re hired.” He stuck out his hand and shook Bruno’s.

  “Can you stay for my artist to paint a canvas of you? She’s real quick, won’t take but maybe an hour.”

  “Deal! I got some time.”

  “Excellent. What shall we call you? The World’s Unbeatable Man? Or The World’s Unbeatable Boxer?” He walked toward the tent. “Lilith!” He turned back to Bruno with a flair and gasped. “Just: The
Unbeatable Man. I like that!”

  “Uh, deal, whatever you think’s best.” Bruno swallowed.

  “Come with me.” He led Bruno toward the tent where Bobby had come out. He whipped the flap aside and entered unannounced. “Lilith!”

  Barnum turned to place his hand on Bruno’s back and shoved him ahead. He stumbled into the large military mess-tent. A slender woman, with a head of coal-black hair that touched the ground, sat before a vanity table and mirror. Her thin, tight gown exposed an emaciated figure. She turned at the calling of her name.

  Her snake-like eyes shocked Bruno to halt abruptly. Her brow went taut as she took in his disfigurement. He let go of his breath with a resolution that if it weren’t for Mr. Gordon, he’d belong here among these fate-bearing people.

  Barnum's voice broke Bruno's trance. “Hon, I want you to paint a canvas for this attraction. We’ll hang it outside the big tent.” He turned to Bruno. “But you’ll be inside the big tent. We’ll make you a closing act in the center ring. That way, no matter how many come to challenge you, we won’t have to stop you or them because another act is scheduled after you.” He rubbed his hands together. “This is a great addition. What’s your situation, son? Can you stay with us when we move on in two weeks? Or are you tied down to Las Vegas?”

  “Oh, I can only work for you here in Vegas.” His eyes remained on the woman who moved slowly out of the chair and walked with such a strange fluid motion toward a stack of folded canvases. Bruno snapped his attention back to Mr. Barnum. “I’m trying to get enough money together to… take care of my ma. She’s behind on her expenses and needs my help.”

  Boy, Bruno came up with that quickly. Good thing, too. Barnum seemed to understand and nodded. He stuck his hand out to Bruno and once again shook his hand.