by C. A. Asbrey
“I know what you thought, mister. This ain’t like you, and you don’t do this on my watch.”
“No—” Nat frowned. “I was so sure—” His face lit up and he reached out and dragged up another layer of underclothing. “There!” Nat cried in triumph. “I knew it.”
“A bag?” Jake stood upright in surprise. “Under her skirts?”
“Yup.” Nat’s knife sliced through the strings attaching the pouch around Callie’s waist. His dark eyes twinkled in delight. “We know someone else who wears one of these under her skirts, don’t we? How could I have forgotten to check there? Dumb of me. Just plain stupid.”
He pulled at the drawstrings and slipped out a beige folder. His brows met as he flipped through the contents, pausing at a photograph of a slim young man with brown hair and a mustache. “So this is Smitty?” Nat darted a look at Callie. “I think I know this face.”
Jake sidled over and glanced over his nephew’s shoulder. “Me, too. If I could just place where—”
The bound woman squeaked into her gag and fought against the tethers binding her hands and feet to the bedstead in anger.
“Too late, Callie,” chuckled Nat. “We got your notes, or should I call them Tibby’s notes? Thanks for the hospitality.” He stretched out and pulled her skirts back down to a more modest position. “No need to be mean, is there? We don’t want to rob you of your dignity, too. A year’s work is more than enough for us.”
Chapter 16
“Who is he?” Abigail handed the photograph back to Nat. “If this is Smitty, he must know you from somewhere.”
“I’m not sure, but I think he’s the police officer who came to check if Maddie lived at Bartholemew’s house. He’s clean-shaven now, but it looks like him. Nat tore off the false beard and rubbed at the shreds of gum still sticking to his face. “That accounts for why Bartholemew was arrested. I gave his name and opened the front door.”
“Yeah.” Jake’s mouth firmed into a line. “It’s the young ’un who works with Sergeant North. Ain’t he got some kind of influenza? North was complainin’ about him bein’ out sick.”
“I dunno.” Nat sat on the bed and rubbed at his scalp now he was free of the wig. “Is that what they told you?”
“Yeah. The second time I went in. North moaned he was short-handed.” Jake leaned against the dresser. “I didn’t look too hard at the fella, but his lackey did have brown hair. The picture has a mustache where he doesn’t, but I’m sure it it’s him. It figures the man in charge of custody would check out any address Maddie might give and that it’d probably be his assistant’s job.”
“So Smitty’s been hiding in plain sight?” Abigail’s brow creased. “Is it possible a rich young wastrel has been working as a lowly police officer? Why would he do that?”
“Probably because he’d get warned of anyone looking for Smitty in San Francisco and nobody’d look in their own police station?” Jake mused beneath gathered brows. “I’m guessin’ his folks demanded he settled down a bit and get a regular job but he wasn’t qualified for much. It looks like he mixed with some of the rich set in his down time. His folks must have been givin’ him money to be able to afford to hang out with his old pals.”
“And with friends in high places he’d rise through the ranks pretty fast once he got established.” Nat sat on the bed and leaned back on his elbows. “He’d be set for life after reinventing himself as a respectable pillar of society. Give it ten years and nobody’ll remember Smitty except the family of his victims—and they’d never know what he looked like.”
“They’ll all be ready to turn on him now.” mused Abigail. “No chance of them protecting Smitty, now he’s slaughtered a friend.”
“Yup,” Jake muttered dragging his wig away. “He’s shit in his own nest, that’s for sure.”
Abigail flicked through the other documents in the file. “I don’t think any of them know he’s a police officer, and Tibby has only linked him to his rich friends. They must have been the ones beating Tibby up in the alley when you met him. Chester told the inspector Smitty attended the races, and went to bars and parties. They thought he was studying law. They all knew he was wanted, but thought the charges had been trumped up so protected him. It’d also explain why Smitty went off sick. He was worried about Beaumont turning up to ask about the reward money while Smitty was behind the front desk. Beaumont had large gambling debts and we can only assume he agreed get involved for a cut of the money. Honeybun is working through Smitty’s whole set now.”
“So how do we find out where Smitty lives?” Nat’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Didn’t that detective want you to join up, Jake? How about you consider doing just that?”
“No!” Abigail stiffened in alarm. “The law has to deal with him. I can’t let you take the law into your own hands.”
“You mean the ones you warned me about being real corrupt and notorious for being as dishonest as the folks they arrest?” snorted Nat. “That’s the reason you told me you couldn’t go to them for help with your sister.”
“Not all of them, I’m sure.” Abigail propped her hands on her hips. “The force does have a bad reputation, but there will be honest men among them.”
“Fine.” Nat mirthless chuckle underscored the sarcasm in his voice. “You go right in there and point out the good ones. When you’re done with that, I’ve got some snake oil to sell you.”
“From what I’ve heard, the detectives are fairly sound.” Her voice rang with unspoken doubts as she started to pace.
“Are you tryin’ to convince us or you, Abi?” Jake scoffed. “Either way, I ain’t gettin’ involved. Smitty don’t know me or he’d have done somethin’ about it when he met me at the front desk.” He turned and glared at his nephew. “All we gotta do is let the law know who Smitty is and let them bring him in.”
Nat’s knuckles whitened to pearl as he grasped the bed knob and leaned on the bedstead. His voice was as taught as his grip. “Any guarantees they’re not in the pay of Smitty’s family and they won’t tip him off?”
“Nope.” Jake scowled. “But we know what Smitty looks like and he only knows you—not me. He ain’t gonna catch us out again, and I don’t take stupid risks. Besides, they ain’t gonna be able to avoid arrestin’ Smitty with a real life Pinkerton around to see what they’re up to.”
Nat rolled his eyes. “Want to put money on that?”
“Nope, but we know his folks are sendin’ him money. If he makes off it ain’t too hard to break into their bank and find out where they’re sendin’ it too next. It ain’t our problem, Nat. We can keep ourselves safe from Smitty now we know what he looks like. It’s up to the law to keep folks safe from him.”
A muscle flexed in Nat’s jaw. “He killed folk because he couldn’t kill me himself, Jake. I’m not going to back off from that any more than I would a man who drew on me.”
Jake’s cold smile didn’t reach into his eyes. “I kept you alive all this time by keepin’ a cool head and lookin’ at the bigger picture. You ain’t gonna change that. I ain’t gonna let you do anythin’ dumb.”
Nat paused. “What’s up with you, Jake? You’ve been proddy for a while now.”
Jake drew himself to his full height. “I spot dangers, Nat, even when you try to divert me. I do it even when you think I’m too dumb to notice.” He poked his nephew’s chest. “It ain’t gonna be any different now.”
Abigail stepped between the men, unsure what provoked the unspoken tension. “Enough. What’s wrong with you two?”
Jake held Nat’s hard stare but addressed Abigail. “I know what’s goin’ on, and I don’t like bein’ treated like a fool.”
“Know what?” Abigail shook her head in confusion. “What are you talking about, Jake?”
“You two. You’re runnin’ off together. It’s the dumbest thing I ever heard. She’s got family, Nat. Anyone with connections is a risk.”
Abigail’s jaw dropped open. “Running off?” Her head shook in furious denial. “We
’re doing no such thing.”
Jake’s head flicked around to glare directly into her eyes. “Stop it. I ain’t playin’ games. I know you two are slippin’ away when this is over. You ain’t even got the courtesy to tell me the truth to my face. It’ll all end in tears, and very likely in prison, too.”
“We have no plans to run away together, Jake.” She reached out and grasped the angry man by both arms. “Honestly. We both know Alan Pinkerton would use it to track Nat. We know where it’d end. We’re not idiots. Why on earth would you think we were?” She shook him, “Talk to me. What is going on in your head?” She turned to Nat. “What have you said?”
“Nothing!”
The emotional man’s blue eyes swirled in a maelstrom of emotion. “I know both of you. I’ve watched you get closer and closer over the last two years, but as soon as you came to Ghost Canyon, it was a done deal. It’s comin’. I know it is. At least be decent enough to be honest with me. A woman like you don’t sleep with a man unless it means somethin’.”
“I’m not going to deny we’ve reached an understanding.” Nat cut in. “But haven’t arranged to run off. We ain’t dumb kids. When—” he gulped and darted a look at Abigail, “—and if, we ever decide to do anything about it you’ll be the first to know. We’re smart people. I’m sure we can find a way.” Nat avoided eye contact with Abigail’s intense stare. “—if that’s what we want.”
“Your accent is slipping, Mr. Quinn.” Abigail sighed and wandered over to stare out of the window. “Is that anger or emotion? It’s normally one of the two.”
Nat growled under his breath flexing a muscle in his cheek. “Both. Dammit. Jake, you’re like a brother to me. Don’t you think I’d be straight with you? You brought me up. I ain’t gonna run off without so much as a look back. What kind of man d’you think I am?”
“As mad as any man who ever fell in love.” Jake thrust a jagged thumb toward his chest. “I know. I’ve been there. I also know how it ends. Yours’ll be a damn sight worse.”
Abigail rubbed her face. “This sounds personal between you two. I’ll go through to the other room.” She picked up the file and photograph, holding open the connecting door. Her weak smile underscored her frown of concern. “I can deal with this from here. Why don’t you two go? I’ll tell the police who Smitty is and I’ll push for an arrest on Bartholemew. Maybe one of the scientists from the agency can work out how he kills by going through his house—”
“We ain’t goin’ anywhere. Nothing’s changed. Especially not because Jake’s got somethin’ eatin’ him.” Nat turned a resentful glare on his uncle. “Bartholemew kills women. Let’s hope Jake accepts a straight answer.”
“Hey!” Jake lifted Nat’s book from the bedside table and hefted it above his head. “D’ya want some words headed in your direction, Ignatius? Keep goin’.”
“Ignatius?” Abigail stepped back into the room, her eyes widening.
“Yeah, that’s his real name, and he hates it. Nat is short for Ignatius and that why the authorities can’t find his records. Maybe you want to think twice about runnin’ off with a man you know hardly anythin’ about, Abi. You don’t even know his real name. It’s Ignatius Ebenezer Dunraven Quinn.”
“Aireamh na h-Aoine ort.” She strode over to him, tipping forward onto her tiptoes as she reached up and snatched the book from Jake’s hand. “I don’t need to think twice about anything, you big galoot. I intend to take my sister back to Brooklyn. Do you really think I’ll trust her to travel on her own after all this?” Her dark eyes flashed, but she beat down her burning exasperation and softened her tone. “Look, you obviously feel a bit insecure, and I understand why. We did get together at the cabin, but it was a moment of weakness, not a relationship. I was at my lowest ebb. I was desperately worried and at my wits end. I wasn’t myself.”
It was Nat’s turn to protest. “Hey! I did nothing wrong. You make it sound like I took advantage of you.”
“If you fell into a pit of rattlesnakes you’d come out with a bottle full of venom and a pair of snakeskin boots,” Jake snickered. “You’ve been takin’ advantage since you came out of the womb.”
She tossed the book onto the bed and rounded on Nat. “You didn’t take anything. I did. I needed comfort and love— and well—you gave me it.” She paused, groping for the correct word as her face flushed. “I needed to feel alive and not be looking after everyone else for a change. What’s wrong with that? I’m a human being. I’m not some kind of automaton. Sometimes needs and wants collide with perfect timing. Women can want sex without a lifetime of commitment too, you know. It was a one-time thing. I don’t know what he’s told you, but we’re not going to run off and abandon you, Jake. I promise you.” She pulled herself upright and held Nat’s dancing eyes. “Get over yourself, Mr. Quinn. A woman can have an interlude without committing her entire life to a man. We have needs, too.” She strode back to the adjoining door. “I’m going down to arrange for dinner to be sent to the room. What do you want? Steak?”
Both men nodded in silence, listening to the main door to her room closing behind her as she went down to the lobby to place her order. They sat in silence for a few moments.
“What can I say?” Nat turned his dimpled grin on his uncle. “I feel so used.”
“Shut up, you lucky bastard.” Jake threw himself down on the bed. “All I got was Tibby. Callie wasn’t wrong when she called him Rumpelstiltskin, neither.”
♦◊♦
Abigail played with her food, her face stony, while Quinn and Jake tucked in to steak and potatoes.
“I’m sorry, Abi,” said Jake between mouthfuls. “I ain’t got a problem with you. If anythin’, you’re too good for him.”
Nat’s dark eyes raised from the book he was reading. “Thanks. I can always depend on my kin, can’t I?”
“It’ll be too easy to get caught if you two run off.” Jake pressed on, ignoring the sarcasm. “Women with families tend to stay in touch, and that’s how they get you. Your sister showed me clear as day that you ain’t gonna give them up. You care.”
Abigail nodded. “I know. Many criminals have been caught by simply staking out the people who are important to them. I have considered that.”
Nat threw an admonishing glance at Jake and returned to his book. “For crying out loud. Enough. Nobody’s going anywhere.”
“Did he say anything to you?” Abigail’s brows knitted. “Why did you leap to that conclusion?”
“Well, after Ghost Canyon, I just assumed—”
“Well, don’t.” She fixed Jake with a determined stare. “I’m not one of those sapheads desperate for a man to keep her. I have a full life and make my own money. Any man I let share my future will be a full partner.” She glanced at Nat who hid behind his book. “And a practicing criminal doesn’t fit the bill. An interlude doesn’t mean anything. I need more than that.”
“Gees, is she this brutal when you’re smoochin’?” asked Jake.
Nat turned the page as his cheek dimpled. “A gentleman never tells.”
“I guess that rules you out.” Jake grinned at Nat. “Well, Abi. No shame in bein’ human. In a way, it’s good to see that you got the same problems as the rest of us.”
“You don’t have a mad sister.”
Nat threw her an enigmatic smile over the spine of the book. “I used to have three.”
A thick, heavy silence descended on the group as they all reflected on their respective pasts and the ghosts which haunted each and every one of them. Jake picked up his fork again and looked down at the piece of potato speared by the prongs.
“Can you pass the salt, Nat? It’s on your tray. These potatoes ain’t right.”
“Sure.” Nat reached out and grabbed the salt and held it out with a stiff arm. His absent eyes filled with inspiration as Jake took it and frowned back at his nephew. Nat put the book down on the bed and flicked through the pages before he sat upright and fixed Abi with gleaming black eyes.
“Look at this
picture. Does it remind you of anything?” He stood and strode to the next room. “Where did I put it? I think it’s in my bag.”
“Put what?” Abigail stood and stared at the illustration. Her brow creased. “What is it? A cross section of a Leyden Jar?”
“Yes, but look at the thing in the middle. It’s like a wand with a chain attached. Yesss!” Nat appeared at the connecting door holding the very item in his hand. “I found this in Bartholemew’s house It was beside the broken lid of that ornamental jar in the laboratory.” He held it up and pointed to the engraved lines around the top of the metal stick. “See, it’s threaded, as though it screws into something. Compare it while I go and find the rest of it.”
Nat disappeared once more appearing with bits of the broken lid.
“Why on earth did you collect all of this?” she asked.
Nat shrugged, a twinkle of devilment playing in his eyes. “I’m a thief. A thief takes, especially when stuff looks like real gold.” He shrugged. “Besides, that jar had to be in the laboratory for a reason. I was curious, but that picture tells me exactly what it is.”
He took the wand and inserted it into the biggest piece, holding the lid by the gold knob. He held it out. “See, the knob is solid gold. I checked. It’s threaded, too. If I screw this wand into the lid and hold it like it would be on top of the jar—” The wand dangled to the floor. “The chain would have hung and gathered on the bottom, depending on the depth of the jar. It looks just like the one on the diagram.”
“A Leyden jar?” Abigail gasped. “But that jar is ornate.”
“Sure it is.” Nat nodded. “It’s made to look like something harmless. But look at the picture. It’s a glass jar sitting in a conductive metal coating inside and out. The lid isn’t conductive, and this one is ceramic, except for the gold knob on the top, and the wand screws into that perfectly. The chain would dangle into the liquid inside. There isn’t a reason in the world why a Leyden jar can’t be made to look ornate.”
“What the hell is a Leyden jar?” Jake demanded. “Does he hit them over the head with it?”
