Innocent Bystander

by C. A. Asbrey

  Sergeant North pushed a form over to the lawyer. “Sign this and she’s all yours. That Pinkerton fella never came back for her anyways, so he’s only got himself to blame.” The officer watched Dughi sign as he continued. “The officer said she was real slippery, so watch your wallet. I guess she got lucky again because the Pinkertons messed up the paperwork.”

  “My client is innocent until proven guilty, Sergeant North.” Dughi’s Italianate eyes glowered from beneath his bushy white brows.

  “Sure, they are.” The lawman grinned. “Every mornin’ I get outta bed and thank the good Lord for all these innocent folks keepin’ me in a job. Kinda like yourself, huh? And they say crime doesn’t pay.”

  The lawyer’s lingering gaze dripped with disdain before he turned to Madeleine. “Come, Miss MacKay. I will get a cab and escort you safely home. Miss Atchinson will be outraged when she hears you were detained on an illegal warrant. I’ve no idea how she knew about you. All she told me was that I was to make sure you were safely released from this station. It is my pleasure to assist you.”

  Abigail turned to watch them leave, her heart sinking until a hard ball of angst sat like a lump of lead in her stomach. So—Madeleine was back and the timing could only have been worse if Bartholemew was at home, too. How much longer could he be detained under a mistaken identity? She groaned inwardly. Smitty was still out there somewhere, and could identify Nat. Not only that, they were no nearer to establishing how Bartholemew killed. All her problems were boiling to a head at the same time, but her priorities were clear. Madeleine had to come first. Nat was safe as long as he kept wearing his disguise.

  Why did everything have to be so complicated?

  ♦◊♦

  Nat and Jake watched Abigail being ushered from the race course surrounded by uniformed lawmen. Jake’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Abigail being placed in the back of the Black Maria along with a ruddy-faced man and a parcel of other bystanders.

  “She’ll be fine.” Jake murmured with less conviction that he felt. “If anyone knows how to talk their way out of this, it’s Abi.”

  “I guess.” Nat frowned. “She didn’t want Pinkerton to know what she was doing, though. He’ll guess she’s mixed up with me again. We can’t have that.” His voice tightened. “He’ll hunt her down if she crosses him and runs off with a criminal. She’ll never be able to just leave.”

  “She’s leavin’?” Jake’s voice remained low and even. “You’ll be hunted no matter what, Nat. It’s time to face reality.”

  “Not if she can throw Pinkerton off the trail by getting back to work after catching Bartholemew.”

  “You’re dreamin’, Nat. Pinkerton knows about you two. She has family, and that makes her traceable. It won’t work. It can never work with her.”

  “I don’t tell you how to deal with Jess. Maybe if I did, you’d still be with her.” Nat’s dark eyes hardened as anger robbed his accent of its patina of education. “This ain’t your business, Jake.”

  “You’re my nephew. That makes it my business. You’re the only kin I got around.” Jake stiffened and tapped Nat’s side surreptitiously. Despite his irritation, his nephew understood the unspoken communication and slipped back into the professional cunning which was second nature to him. It was an alert to danger, and they could argue later. He glanced over at his uncle’s intense eyes and followed the gaze which fixed on a woman in a pale blue dress leaving the course through the main gate.

  “Who is she?” Nat’s consuming examination extended to the people around her. Two young men responded to her conversation, one of them raising an arm to hail a cab.

  Jake stepped forward and did the same before he turned back to his nephew. “That woman is Callie. Caroline Reynard. The woman who was responsible for settin’ up Tibby in that blood-splattered room. She’s a rival journalist and is huntin’ Smitty down, too, tryin’ to beat Tibby to the scoop.” Jake held open the door to the hackney which clattered up to them. “Get in. It ain’t no coincidence she was here at the same time as Smitty. She was followin’ him. She’ll have information on him, and if we can’t get Smitty, we can get the next best thing. I’m willin’ to bet she’ll have a picture of that bastard from Tibby’s stolen file. I think she’s headed to room two-ninety-one at the Occidental.”

  Nat slammed the door closed and Jake turned to the small trapdoor behind his head which opened onto the rear-mounted driver. “Follow that cab.”

  The driver’s beard split into a wide grin. “For real?”

  “For real.” Jake nodded.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since I read it in the Penny Detective.” They felt the vehicle jolt into motion as the driver’s voice drifted through the closing hatch. “Leave it to me, gents. I’ll stay on their trail.”

  Nat rolled his eyes. “We need to get outta this business. We’re turning into some kinda pathetic dime novel stereotype.”

  “Yeah, you got that way when you met Abi. There was nobody who could touch ya before then.” Jake flicked up a brow. “She has touched you, hasn’t she?”

  “She could be the making of me.” Nat scowled. “They say there’s a woman behind every successful man.”

  Jake turned bright blue eyes on his nephew. “Yeah, and there’s usually one behind every ruined man, too. Be careful, Nat. I’m gettin’ real worried about where all this is headed. Alan Pinkerton is gettin’ involved, and he ain’t a man to upset. He won’t let up even if he has to track you to another country.”

  “Who said I was goin’ to another country?”

  “This is me you’re talkin’ to, Nat.” The lambent blue eyes fixed on the younger man. “You’re not sayin’ you won’t, and that tells me everythin’ I need to know.”

  ♦◊♦

  Nat frowned at Callie’s cab rolling to a stop outside the magnificent square wedding cake of a building.

  “She never left after she set up Tibby,” Jake muttered. “She just went back to her own rooms. Two-eighty-nine through two-ninety-three.”

  Nat turned to Jake and hissed a warning. “Pay the man and hang back. She hasn’t seen me.” He glanced at Jake’s fake beard. “She’s seen you, though.”

  “So are you plannin’ on pullin’ this off on your own?”

  “Nope.” Nat shook his head, “but by the time she gets a good look at you, she’ll have other things to worry about. You take the men and I’ll look after her.”

  “Yeah, that sounds about the way you’d split a job. I deal with two men while you get left with a tiny little woman.”

  “It’s to divert her from looking at you.” Nat leaped down from the carriage and strode toward the main door ahead of their quarry. Callie was just being helped down from her carriage as one of the young men paid. The grand doorman saluted and pulled on the shiny brass door handle, holding the door wide open. Nat’s dimpled smile of gratitude was still concealed by the full brown beard and mustache, but the twinkle in his eyes delivered the message perfectly.

  The horrible carpet of the Occidental Hotel seemed to swirl beneath his feet as Nat strode into the atrium and dawdled around the front desk browsing the newspapers hung on hinged wooden poles to make them available for patrons in the lounges. He knew the huge wooden key fobs were deliberately designed to stop residents from taking them outside the hotel, so Callie would most likely have to ask for hers using her room number.

  He watched the sophisticated lady glide over the monstrous carpet and ask the desk clerk for her key. His sharp dark eyes confirmed the numbers Jake had given before he dipped his head and lifted a copy of the Weekly Alta as though it held everything he ever needed to know. It didn’t do any harm to check. Nat wandered casually off toward the Palm Lounge hiding behind his periodical as Callie and her male helpers made their way to the main staircase.

  Nat dropped the newspaper almost immediately, his athletic stride taking the stairs two at a time, tensing like a coiled spring to peer around each corner as he followed the group up to the second floor.

&nb
sp; He flattened himself against the wall as they turned left and strolled down the corridor together. The woman inserted a key in the lock and entered a room followed by the two men. Nat turned out of the stairwell and strolled toward them, noting which door clattered shut behind them. As he drew even, he noted the number—291. He continued on by, determined to do a complete circuit to take him back to the stairs rather than be caught doubling back. Time to go fetch Jake and have a word with Caroline Reynard. But it’d best to keep this disguise on though…one of those two young men could easily be Smitty, and Callie had met Jake before.

  ♦◊♦

  “What paper did you say she worked for?”

  “I didn’t,” Jake replied. “I dunno. Her alias is ‘Caliper’ or somethin’ like that.”

  “Huh? That doesn’t sound right. It’s not very feminine.” Nat glanced up and down the empty corridor and nodded to his uncle. Jake drew his gun while Nat tapped on the door.

  “Who is it?” a melodic female voice called through the closed portal.

  “Message for Miss Reynard,” Nat chanted in his best imitation of a hotel bellboy.

  “Slip it under the door. I’m busy.”

  The men exchanged a silent conversation in a glance before Nat replied. “Can’t do that, ma’am. It needs to be signed for.”

  Irritation played in the voice of the woman opening the door. “Oh, do I have to? Give me a minute.”

  The door swung open revealing the enormous cornflower blue eyes set in a heart-shaped face. Her caramel-colored hair glowed in the sunlight streaming through the window as her porcelain brow creased. Nat drew his own gun, scowling at his uncle’s typical initial inaction in the face of a beautiful woman. “Not a sound, Miss Reynard.” He strode into the room as she backed off in alarm. “Get your hands up and stay quiet, and you’ll have nothing to worry about.” He gestured with his weapon to the young men who started to their feet. “You two. Who are you?”

  “Ed Groenig,” the skinniest of the pair stammered.

  “Burt Anders,” the second squeaked as he rammed his arms in the air. “We work on Caliope’s column.”

  “Huh? Is that some kinda buildin’?” asked Jake, tilting his head to hide under the brow of his hat from Callie.

  “Caliope,” the woman snapped. “It’s my nom de plume. My sobriquet.”

  “Nope. That ain’t helpin’ none.” Jake frowned. “And if you don’t mind me sayin’ so, it sounds like a highfaltutin’ name to make the way you earn your bread and butter sound more important than it is. Your chimps ain’t up to much, neither.”

  Callie frowned. “Are you trying to be funny?”

  “And you call yourself a journalist?” Jake grinned. “Ain’t you spotted the gun?

  “Newspaper men, huh?” Nat nodded. “Well, my friend, here, is gonna tie you up. If you’re sensible, you’ll sit quietly and we’ll take what we came for.”

  “The money is in that carpet bag. Just take it and go.” Callie’s chest rose and fell as her voice rang with fear. Her eyes kept flicking over to Jake who stood with his back to her, ripping a sheet into strips to use as ligatures.

  “We’re not after your money, Miss Reynard.” Nat pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit. “We’re here about Smitty.”

  Her eyes widened, and her voice was suddenly more assured. She ignored the chair and tilted her chin in challenge. “Smitty? Do you work for Tibby? Tell Rumplestiltskin to give up. He’s beaten. I’ve almost cracked the story.” She arched a brow. “How much is he paying you? I’ll double it.” She paused. “And it’s Mrs. Reynard. I’m a widow.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, but I kinda get the feeling you’re none too cut-up about it.” Nat’s eyes narrowed as he appraised her. “No. We don’t work for him, and you can’t afford us, lady. Where’s the file?”

  “I’ll scream!”

  Nat grinned. “Go ahead. The local police are keen to get hold of the person who destroyed Tibby’s room. They’ll throw the book at you.”

  “And what do you think they’ll do with you, rushing in here and holding us up like this? You’ll end up in jail, too.” Callie paused, a cavalcade of expressions fluttering over her face as she considered her options. “I haven’t got the file. I posted it to my editor. I’ve been working on this story for a year, so I don’t need to carry this stuff around with me.”

  “Yeah? We’ll just say we tracked you down for the law like upstanding citizens.” Nat examined her intently, staring deep into her eyes. “You’re a good liar, but not good enough, lady.” He bit into his lip. “People usually can’t help glancing at the thing they’re worried about. You’re looking down.” His brows gathered. “Now, why do you think that is? You’ve got me curious.”

  “I haven’t got the file. It’s gone.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. You looked down for just a second. Is it under something?” He gazed around and toyed around the rug with his toes. “Under here, maybe?”

  “I told you, I posted it.”

  Nat’s grin widened as he watched the gag being tightened on the second journalist. The young men lay on the floor, their backs arched in a tight hogtie. Jake worked with brisk efficiency until they were totally helpless. Just to complicate things a bit further, Jake dragged them over to the bed and tethered each one to separate legs of the bed.

  “Can’t have you slidin’ over and playing with each other’s knots,” Jake snickered.

  He stood, ripping more linen into strips and advanced on Callie who gasped and backed off against the wall. She clearly didn’t recognize disguised Jake as the cowboy she’d met in the tea lounge.

  “Your turn, ma’am.” He twinkled a mischievous glint. “Don’t worry. You get a more dignified position.” He tilted his head over to the bedstead. “On the bed, all nice and comfy. It’s only right, with you bein’ a lady and all, ’cause it’s gonna be a while before anyone finds you.”

  “No! I’ll scream.”

  Nat grasped her by the top of her arm. “No, you won’t, sweetheart. You’d have done it by now. You’ll have to swallow your pride and let us get you safely out of the way so we can search the place in comfort. Nobody’s gonna hurt you as long as you do as you’re told, but we’ve got the rooms next door to search, too, and we need you outta the way.” He paused. “Just check under that mattress before we tie her to the bed. We don’t want her hiding the file right under our noses.”

  ♦◊♦

  All three rooms were in shambles. Every drawer had been pulled out in case the file had been pasted to the underside or back, and all the furniture had been turned over for the same reason. Cushions disgorged spilled horsehair, feathers, fluffy cotton, and straw everywhere until it got caught underfoot and got trailed about by the searching criminals. Their luggage had been cheap stuff, made of reinforced cardboard with leather corners, but Nat and Jake still checked thoroughly for any hidden compartments. They’d even checked the floorboards to see if any loose planks had been used to hide anything away. That check revealed nothing but a dead mouse and an aggressive spider which charged at Jake on thick prickly legs. His rapid reflexes kicked in. He withdrew his hand and slammed the board back in place.

  Jake climbed to his feet and propped his hands on his slim hips. “Nothin’. We’ve searched everywhere. There’s no sign of the folder.”

  Nat’s hands balled into hard fists before he kicked out at a disemboweled pillow which scattered a flurry of flossy down over the room. “Dammit. I was sure she was lying to me. There was a look of triumph deep in her eyes when she challenged me.”

  “So what now? Go over it again?”

  The outlaw leader made to rub his face, but hesitated as he remembered his disguise. “Nah, we’ve looked everywhere.” Nat turned to look through the adjoining door at the prisoners still bound and gagged where they had been left. He lowered his voice. “I guess we’d better give up.” He turned, closing over the door to the adjoining room before he stopped dead. “We haven’t looked
everywhere.”

  “Yeah, we have. There’s nothin’ left but to start knockin’ holes in the wall.”

  “Nope.” Nat shook his head. “Callie knows, and I’m gonna get it.” He strode back into 291 and stared down at the woman tied to the bed. She held his scrutiny for a few minutes before turning her head away.

  “That’s not going to do you any good, sweetheart.” Nat strolled over and sat on the side of the bed. “You’re not going anywhere, and neither am I.”

  He reached out a hand and patted her stomach. “I always try to behave like a gentleman, and I mostly succeed.” He noted the way her big blue eyes blinked in fear at the mention of the qualifier before he continued. “Not always, you understand, but mostly.”

  She bit into her gag and squirmed against the hot hand pressing on her abdomen.

  “It’s real easy, Callie. You give us the file and it’s all over.”

  “Mmmph.” She rattled her head from side to side in denial.

  Nat grabbed her jaw and turned her face to him. He stared right into her as the light dissipated from his obsidian eyes, turning them blacker as he spoke. “Get it into your head that I don’t accept you mailed the folder. So, I’m going to make you an offer. I can untie you and you can hand it over like a lady, or I’m going in.”

  “In where?” demanded Jake, alarm ringing in his voice.

  “She knows.” Nat grinned. He patted her belly once more. “Last chance, Callie. All you gotta do is nod.” He stared down at the woman biting into her gag, her wide eyes great globes of fear. “Not playing, huh? Well, don’t say you weren’t warned.”

  The gloved hand slid down the wriggling leg bound to the foot of the bed but Jake stepped forward and grabbed his wrist.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

  Nat swung his arm with the well-practiced ease of those used to fending off blows and broke the grip. He stood, grinning at his uncle. “Getting what I came for.” He leaned forward and grabbed the hem of Callie’s skirts and dragged them up. He paused at the sight of her white petticoats covering her writhing limbs. “Oh. I thought—”