Beyond the Pale

by Sabrina Flynn

  “The bullpen,” Geary replied.

  It was Farnon who snapped first. “You threw children into a bullpen!”

  “A criminal is a criminal, Mr. Farnon. You should know that. But I’m a lenient man, so I’ll drop the charges as long as you pay a small fine.”

  Isobel stared daggers at the man. She saw what he was doing. Refuse, and Jin and Sarah would wait for trial in a jail cell. Pay the trumped up fine, and they’d be released today.

  Now it was Farnon who looked set on strangling the inspector.

  “What about Tobias White?” she asked.

  “The negro boy?” Geary asked. “He’s giving us a statement.”

  “Without an attorney present?” Farnon asked.

  “He volunteered. Very helpful boy.”

  Tim gave a wheezing laugh.

  At any other time, Isobel might have found it amusing, but not with Riot in jail for murder.

  Isobel checked her billfold. “I’ll pay you two dollars, Inspector.”

  Geary snorted. “Twenty. A piece.”

  “Two dollars or I’ll have the press hounding your every step. I do wonder what the good reporters of this city would uncover. You know how diligent they are.”

  Geary crossed his arms. “Are you threatening me, Mrs. Riot?”

  “Do you have something to hide?”

  Farnon hastily stepped forward, taking out his own bankbook. “I believe my client is short on cash and is only trying to get her children out of a holding cell, Inspector. I’ll cover their fines.”

  Isobel swallowed her pride as Farnon paid. Not long after two sober girls were escorted into the lobby along with one cheerful little boy with sticky fingers.

  The moment they stepped from the station, Tim lit his pipe, and Isobel took a deep breath, savoring the earthy smell of pipe smoke. She found it comforting.

  Cameron Fry came bounding out after. Lanky, with a shock of blond hair and a sunburn on his freckled face, he reminded her of a large puppy who hadn’t yet gotten used to his long legs.

  “Are you all right, Miss Sarah?” the boy asked.

  Instead of blushing, Sarah directed a glare at the police station. “Those brutes kept me in a locked room and were trying to force me to give a statement about my own father. I told them I wouldn’t without an attorney. Then they stuffed me in the women’s bullpen.”

  Isobel bit her tongue. She’d ordered them home.

  Tim wasn’t so diplomatic. “I can’t imagine Miss Bel here telling you to take a stroll down to the station.” The old man patted Sarah’s shoulder. “Looks like you three learned yourselves a lesson. I’ll get us a cab.”

  Tim took off down the street, and Cameron scribbled in his notepad.

  Sarah gawked. “Cameron Fry, I told you not to write anything more about me.”

  Cameron looked up, innocence painted on his face. “But Miss Sarah, the world has to know about those brutes. Besides, it will help your father when I go sniffing around Sausalito.”

  “So you picked up on my hint?” Isobel asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Cameron said, voice cracking. “I’ll spread the word, and there’ll be a race to verify Mr. Riot’s whereabouts.”

  “I appreciate it, Mr. Fry.” Cameron Fry had a mind on him, and the youth had once told Riot that persistence was his middle name.

  Cameron raised his cap, gave Sarah a little bow, and made to strike off down the street, but not before he nearly ran into a station pillar.

  “That boy,” Sarah said with a shake of her head, but her gaze lingered on his back. At least Sarah had stopped making doe eyes at Lotario.

  “If you kiss that gross boy you will get pregnant, and the doctor will cut the baby from your belly,” Jin said matter-of-fact.

  Sarah blushed, and Tobias’s mouth fell open. He lost a piece of candy that rolled right out and shattered on the ground.

  “Jin,” Isobel warned. “All three of you are on thin ice right now.”

  Jin looked down at her feet, puzzled. Having spent most of her life as a house slave, then in a brothel, the finer points of social interactions were lost on the scarred girl.

  “Thin ice means you’re in trouble,” Tobias explained, popping another hard candy into his mouth.

  “And you aren’t?” Sarah asked.

  “Where did you get candy?” Jin demanded.

  Tobias hugged a paper bag to his chest. “A policeman gave it to me.”

  Both girls gawked.

  Isobel rubbed at her temple. She should be ecstatic that Inspector Coleman had asked her to consult on a murder case. Instead, she was worried sick and on the verge of screaming at three children.

  A cab pulled up to the curb and Tim hopped down from beside the driver to open the door. “Appreciate it, Big Jim. I’ll ride inside for now.”

  ‘Big Jim’ wasn’t much larger than Tim, who was shorter than Isobel. As the children continued their squabbling, she pushed them into the cab, then paused on the step.

  “Did you know Monty was murdered?” she asked Tim.

  “I did,” he said with a puff of smoke.

  “What did the papers make of it?”

  “They didn’t make nothing of it,” Tim said. “Reported it as a robbery.”

  She frowned at this. “The papers didn’t tie his murder back to the agency?”

  Tim shook his head.

  “That means there’s money involved here.”

  “It also narrows down A.J.’s list of enemies.”

  Alex Kingston being the foremost. But she had no proof, and she wouldn’t jump to conclusions. “Have you made any progress on finding out who hired Monty?”

  Tim showed her his gold teeth. “I learned Monty was hanging around the Oakland racetrack an awful lot. He racked up quite the debt.”

  “To whom?”

  “Anyone who would loan him cash.”

  Isobel tapped a finger on the cab door.

  “I’m becoming a regular there,” Tim confided. “I’m sure I’ll hear something soon.”

  Tim had a way of weaseling into social circles. She’d first thought he left things up to chance, but that wasn’t the case. There was a method to the way he worked. A cunning one.

  “Isobel, I have to pee,” Sarah hissed.

  Jin pointed to an alleyway. “You could go there.”

  Before the girls started arguing again, Isobel climbed in and Tim followed. The cab was soon rocking over cobblestones towards Ravenwood Manor.

  “Now whose idea was this?” she asked.

  The three children were stuffed together on one cab seat. Jin stared back in defiance, Tobias was sucking on hard candy, and Sarah was fidgeting with a handkerchief.

  Isobel drilled her gaze into the weakest link. Sarah. But the girl didn’t crack. All three kept quiet. She sat back, impressed. “I’m happy to see that you three aren’t turning on each other. There’s nothing I hate more than a snitch.”

  Sarah looked up, shocked. “I don’t think you’re supposed to encourage us, Isobel.”

  Isobel raised a shoulder. “You were trying to help Riot, weren’t you? How could I possibly be upset? It was a good plan, whoever came up with it.”

  Tobias perked up. “I did!”

  Jin closed her eyes, putting a hand to her forehead.

  It took Tobias a full ten seconds to realize what he’d just done.

  “Well, at least I know who the ringleader of this trio is,” she said, leveling her gaze on the boy.

  “Jin was gonna dynamite the station,” Tobias muttered.

  “I’m relieved you came up with an alternate plan, Tobias,” she said dryly.

  Tim scratched at his beard. “Did you see A.J.?”

  “I did,” Jin said.

  Isobel leaned forward. “How is he?”

  “He is well.”

  There was something about the way Jin said the last that raised Isobel’s hackles. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Jin thought a moment, her list likely a long one. “They put
me in the men’s yard.”

  Isobel nearly choked. “What?”

  “The policeman said there were no segregated cells for Chinese women, so I might as well be with ‘my kind.’”

  Sarah gawked. “They put you in with the men?”

  Jin shrugged. “I was able to get bahba into a safer cell.”

  “How d’you manage that?” Tim asked around his pipe.

  “I started a fight. Then Atticus threw my dynamite into the mass of brawling men, and I pretended to be injured. Officer Doyle had him carry me out into a private cell.”

  “Dynamite?” Isobel asked.

  Jin deflated. “It turned out to be a firecracker.”

  Isobel tried not to think of everything that could’ve happened, instead she focused on Tobias. “And what did you tell the police?”

  Tobias popped another piece of candy into his mouth. “Everything.”

  15

  Warrant

  A pounding knock shook Isobel from a restless sleep. She fought with the bed sheets to sit up, casting about in confusion. She was facing a wall and her pillows were at her feet. The bed was empty. Confusion gave way to reality—Riot was gone.

  The next pounding knock shook sense back into her. It was coming from downstairs. “Police! Open the door!”

  What the hell?

  Isobel flew from the bed, snatched robe and revolver, and stepped out of her room into the hallway. She leaned over the railing to see a flood of nervous lodgers gathering at the entryway—some were already dressed and on their way to work, others still in robes.

  Sarah came out of her room, looking perplexed, and Jin poked her head over the railing a floor above. “There is a large group of policemen and detectives surrounding the house,” the girl shouted down. “One has a sledgehammer.”

  Isobel let out a curse that made Sarah’s eyes bulge. By the time Isobel joined the other lodgers, they were parting ways for the landlady, Miss Lily. Unlike Isobel, she was an early riser, and she was impeccably dressed in high collar and crisp skirts, with her black hair pulled into a neat bun.

  The two women shared a look. For a moment, Isobel thought the usually calm landlady would bolt, but Miss Lily gave a curt nod and steeled her shoulders. Isobel cinched her robe and pulled open the door.

  Inspector Geary nearly knocked her in the face with his raised fist.

  “Inspector,” Isobel purred. “What a pleasant surprise. So nice of you to come in person.” She shifted to look around his girth. “I see you brought guests.”

  As Jin had reported, several officers and non-uniformed men were present. She noted the graying bow-legged man from the day before. He raised his hat to her.

  “We have a warrant to search your home.”

  Isobel held out her hand. Geary fished around his pockets and produced said warrant, signed by a Judge Carroll Cook.

  “I hope you’re familiar with the fourth amendment, Inspector. A search must be conducted in a reasonable manner.”

  “Step aside,” Geary ordered.

  The inspector tried to push past her, but she held her ground. “The warrant is for the property of Atticus Riot. This is Ravenwood estate.”

  “He’s the estate holder.”

  “It’s a boardinghouse, Inspector. Residents rent rooms here. Their rooms are private property, and you don’t have a warrant for every lodger here. By law you can search common areas, along with my husband’s rooms. No more.”

  “Only someone who’s hiding something would pull that one.”

  “I don’t want your men stomping through our lodgers’ rooms making a nuisance of themselves.”

  “We’ll search where we like.”

  He pushed her aside, and she called to his back. “Yes, but if you find something that isn’t in Riot’s rooms, then it won’t hold up in court.”

  Geary swung to face her. “Watch your mouth or I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

  “I don’t think you know the meaning of that word.” Her voice dripped venom, and the closest man to her hastily ducked his head and hurried past.

  Tim appeared from around the lane. He was puffing away on a pipe, chatting up a policeman, but he had an eye on her in the doorway. “Some of you fellows can search the stables,” he called.

  Geary jerked his head, and a few officers peeled away. “I want all the residents corralled into the backyard. That clear?”

  Isobel led the way up to her and Riot’s room, and stood by watching as the police overturned their belongings like a bunch of hoodlums. They rifled through books and tossed them on the floor, flipped over the mattress and slit it open to pull out the stuffing, and threw the contents of their wardrobes on the floor.

  A pair of arms came around her waist, and for the first time, she noticed her daughters. Sarah was hugging her. “I can barely watch.”

  Jin looked set to commit murder.

  “You both head to the yard.” Isobel tried to peel the girl off, but Sarah was glued on tight, and Jin had a stubborn tilt to her chin, with her hand in a pocket.

  Oh hell.

  Isobel touched Jin’s arm. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it,” she warned.

  The girl ground her teeth together.

  The police took a rifle from Riot’s wardrobe, along with a box of ammunition and the box that held the revolver Jin had used to shoot a hatchet man.

  Footsteps pounded all over the house, as the police turned over every inch of Ravenwood Manor. Isobel felt helpless. There was nothing she could do to stop it, except telephone Farnon. Again. The attorney would retire early at this rate. But she doubted even he could do anything about a signed warrant.

  “Come on. Let’s wait outside.”

  A policeman pushed open Sarah’s door, and the girl darted into the room with a cry of protest. “Get your dirty hands off my sketchpad!”

  Isobel hurried over in time to see Sarah trying to grab her sketchpad from the officer’s hands.

  “Let him look through it,” Isobel said.

  The officer flipped through the pages, upended it, and gave it a shake, then handed it over.

  Before one of her daughters attacked an officer, Isobel ushered them downstairs, where they joined the other lodgers congregating in the yard. The group was staring sullenly at the house, listening to the rampage.

  “Of all the indecencies!” Mrs. Clarke said.

  “I’m giving my notice immediately,” Mr. Dougal said to Miss Lily. “I expect a full refund of any damages incurred.”

  Isobel tried not to roll her eyes.

  Mr. Hughes fidgeted, looking from one officer to the next, and on the verge of bolting.

  “This is hardly Mrs. White’s fault,” Amelia Lane said, keeping a firm hand on her son. “You heard Mrs. Riot, the police aren’t allowed to search our rooms.”

  “American police officers are brutes,” Mr. Knight drawled.

  A wiry man who Isobel took to be the graying man’s partner, was walking around the group, eyeing them. His gaze lingered on the White family. Only Grimm wasn’t here. Isobel was careful not to glance at the stable in case he was hiding there.

  Miss Lily stood with protective arms around Maddie and Tobias. Standing stiffly, ashen, she closed her eyes briefly, in what must’ve been a silent prayer.

  Miss Dupree interrupted the wiry man’s scrutiny. “How long will this take?” Her question, or more likely the woman, distracted the man. Annie Dupree had a voice that seemed to bypass a man’s ears and go straight between his legs. The ex-governess turned prostitute, and now their children’s schoolteacher, wasn’t dressed. She lived a more nocturnal life, and her thin robe barely concealed a shapely body.

  The woman fascinated Isobel. She also didn’t trust her.

  “As long as it takes, ma’am.”

  Miss Dupree sidled up closer to the wiry man, who licked his lips, and shifted. “I didn’t get your name,” she purred, fingering the lapel of his coat.

  “Sam Batten.”

  The rest of
the conversation fell away when a graveled voice spoke at her side. “I’m sure this is distressing to you, Mrs. Riot.”

  Isobel looked up, surprised to find the tall graying man with the handlebar mustache standing beside her. His Stetson was pulled low on his head.

  She arched a brow. “You think?”

  “It is, no doubt.”

  “And you are?”

  “Liam Taft. Pinkerton operative.”

  Liam extended a hand, but she didn’t shake it. “And why are you here, Mr. Taft?”

  “We’re investigating a murder.”

  “The papers said it was a robbery.”

  “We think otherwise.”

  “We, as in the San Francisco Police department, or the Pinkertons?”

  “My agency is still gathering evidence. Inspector Geary thinks he’s found his man.”

  It could be a trap. Play friendly, get her talking, and see if she slips up. Pinkerton operatives were skilled interrogators. But for once Isobel had absolutely nothing to hide.

  She turned back to the house. “My only worry is that the inspector will plant evidence.”

  Liam smoothed his mustache in consideration.

  “Geary doesn’t care for my husband.”

  “I noticed,” Liam admitted. “Why is that?”

  Isobel pondered the question. “Riot doesn’t take bribes.”

  “Our operatives don’t either.”

  She snorted. “No, but they take money to kill men.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Monty hired on with your agency. Then he hired some lowlifes to blow up our agency. He used to work for us.”

  “So I’ve heard. Any idea why he left?”

  “He didn’t much care for women detectives. I take it your branch here has none.”

  “So your feminine presence drove Monty to put a hit out on his old boss?”

  Isobel lifted a shoulder. “I’m told I have that effect. Now why are you really here, Mr. Taft? I’ve heard your operatives aren’t daft. The police have had Riot in custody for nearly twenty-four hours. Time enough to confirm his whereabouts.”

  “We’re not the police. Only assisting them.”

  She met the man’s gaze. Was this the Pinkerton that the bartender at the Morgue had seen with Monty? The agency worked as railroad police. The railways were owned by powerful men who’d kept Alex Kingston, her ex-husband, as their attorney on retainer.