by Laura Beers
An Agent for Alexina
The Pinkerton Matchmaker Series
Laura Beers
An Agent for Alexina
The Pinkerton Matchmaking Series Book #42
By:
Laura Beers
Copyright © 2019 by Laura Beers
Cover Art by Virginia McKevitt
Edition License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
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Contents
A Note to Our Readers
The Pinkerton Code
The Denver Tribune Editorials
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Other published stories from Laura Beers
Pinkerton Matchmaker Readers Group
About the Author
A Note to Our Readers
Even though this book is a work of fiction, the Pinkerton Agents and their exploits are very real.
Allan Pinkerton, a Scottish immigrant, and Edward Rucker, a Chicago attorney, started the North-Western Police Agency in the early 1850s. It later became the Pinkerton Detective Agency.
Established in the U.S. by Allan Pinkerton in 1855, the Pinkerton National Detective Agency was a private security guard and detective agency. Pinkerton agents were hired as both bodyguards and detectives by corporations and individuals. They were active in stopping strikes, illegal operations, guarding train shipments, and searching for Western outlaws such as the James and Younger gangs.
Pinkerton agents were known to be tough yet honest. For the most part, they followed local and state laws. However, as with most situations, a few were known to be ruthless. Local law didn’t always approve of having an agent in town since they could investigate more fully than the sheriff. Going undercover gave the agents greater leeway for investigations but could also lead to corruption and violence.
As the West became more settled, crime increased, and local authorities were at times overwhelmed. It was not uncommon for Pinkerton agents to be hired to track down the worst of these criminals. Not encumbered by state or local boundaries, the agents followed and pursued their quarry where the clues led them.
The Pinkerton Agency was also one of the first companies to hire women. Kate Warne led the way for the women agents that followed her.
As the case load grew, new offices were established around the country, with the main office in Chicago, Illinois.
We created this series with these heroic men and women in mind. These are works of our imagination and no way reflect the true cases or activities that the Pinkerton Agency may have engaged in.
These are our stories of the men and women that braved danger and love to bring their own brand of justice.
The Pinkerton Code
Allan Pinkerton's agents were required to comply with a specific code of conduct while working for the Pinkerton Detective Agency.
According to the agency's records, agents were to have no addiction to "drinking, smoking, card playing, low dives or slang".
Additionally, a Pinkerton agent …
Could not accept bribes
May never compromise with criminals
Should willingly partner with local law enforcement
Must refuse divorce cases or those initiating scandal
Would be expected to turn down reward money
Cannot raise fees without client’s prior knowledge
Should keep clients appraised on an on-going basis
The Denver Tribune Editorials
Sat. April 22, 1871
Female Agents to join National Detective Agency.
Help Wanted: female agents to join the National Pinkerton Detective Agency
Seven years ago, the National Pinkerton Detective Agency moved into the new office location at 427 Chain Bridge Road, Denver, Colorado Territory. Since then stories have swirled of brave men solving crimes and fighting for justice.
But a new time has evolved, and the agency is now seeking able-bodied women to join the ranks of private investigations.
We need daring women who seek adventure and are of sound mind and body. You will help the criminal elements answer for their crimes and secure safety for their victims.
You will train with an existing agent, and after your first case, you will earn the rank of private detective. Paid training, transportation, uniforms, and accommodations will be provided. You will become a part of a noble profession and pave the way into the future.
This editorial has been placed in newspapers throughout the nation, so the quickest responses are appreciated.
Please send inquiries and a list of skills to Mr. A. Gordon at the above noted address. Interviews will occur on the premises the week of May 16, 1871.
Ed.
1
Somewhere outside of Chicago, 1873
Agent Alexina Kimball was tired of dealing with dumb criminals. Yet, there seemed to be an abundance of them. She shook her head as she watched the suspect climb up the ladder attached to the side of the boxcar and scurry onto the roof of a moving train.
“Idiot,” she muttered to herself as she brought her head back inside the boxcar and removed her skirt. She’d learned from a young age to always wear trousers under her skirts when she was on assignment. It had been one of the useful skills she’d picked up from Mrs. Kate Warne.
Alexina had no choice but to go after him. Luckily, this wasn’t her first ride on the roof of a moving train. She knew that it was nearly impossible to jump from one boxcar to another. Her suspect had trapped himself on the roof. But he was desperate, and desperate men tend to do desperate things when you take their hope away. She couldn’t take the chance that he might be able to jump to his freedom.
Alexina had been tracking the suspect, Charlie Row, since St. Louis, where he’d boarded a train for Chicago. He had been a small-time criminal in Louisville until he shot two men during a card game. One of the widows hired the Pinkerton Detective Agency to bring her husband’s murderer to justice after local law enforcement determined the case had turned cold.
Frankly, it hadn’t been a difficult assignment. Through tips, she had managed to track Charlie to the small town of Spring Valley, Illinois, where she discovered that he routinely visited a brothel in the red-light district of town. She’d planned to arrest him as he left the building this morning, but he must have been tipped off because he slipped out the back door. By the time she caught up to him, he’d already boarded the train. Charlie had taken one look at her in the passenger car and attempted to run from her. It was a terrible mistake on his part.
The ladder was just outside of the boxcar door and was easily accessible. She tucked her pistol into the waistband of her trousers and ensured her derringer was holstered tightly to her right thigh. There was a chance that Charlie would start shooting at her the moment she stepped onto the ladder. If he attempted to do something so foolhardy, she would easily be able to reach for her derringer.
Reaching for the ladder with her left hand, she gripped it tightly as she maneuvered her leg onto a step, then she hurried up the ladder. She peeked over the edge of the roof and saw Charlie standing at the edge of the
boxcar. His back was to her, and the gun in his hand was pressed against his side.
She grabbed the iron rails running along the roof of the boxcar and pulled herself up onto the roof. Crouching low, she could feel the wind whipping around her, and she took a few moments to collect her bearings. Fortunately, the train was going up an incline, so it wasn’t traveling anywhere near its maximum speed of 60 mph. Still, she had to remain vigilant because one gust of wind could knock her right off the train.
Retrieving her pistol, Alexina attempted to keep it steady in her right hand as she cautiously approached Charlie.
“Drop your weapon!” she shouted loud enough to be heard over the wind.
He shook his head as he stared out toward the green fields.
“I said, ‘drop your weapon’!”
Slowly, he leaned down and placed the pistol onto the roof.
Taking a step closer to the man, she ordered, “Now turn around.”
A man in his early twenties, with narrow shoulders and hips, turned to face her. His brown hair was blowing wildly in the wind.
“How did you find me?” he asked loudly.
“People are creatures of habit, and I discovered that you have a fondness for redheads,” she explained in a no-nonsense tone. “Our agency received a tip that you have an aging grandmother that lives in Spring Valley. It was only logical to start looking there.”
“Just kill me!” he surprised her by yelling. “I deserve it!”
She took two steps closer. “Pinkerton agents do not kill unarmed suspects.”
“Then, I will pick up my pistol!”
“I won’t shoot you,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m here to arrest you.”
Licking his chapped lips, Charlie exclaimed, “I refuse to go back to prison. I know what the future holds for me there.”
Not feeling much sympathy for him, Alexina gave him a look of exasperation. “You should have thought about that before you killed two people.”
“I didn’t mean to kill them,” he asserted, his last words being drowned out by the wind.
Alexina had heard nearly every sad story possible from the criminals she had hunted over the years. Some blamed the victims, while others blamed the alcohol, but none showed remorse until after they were caught.
“My job is to arrest you, not judge you,” she said as she worked to keep herself upright.
He took a step closer to her, so they were only an arm’s length apart. She cocked her pistol in response.
“I’m not going back to jail!” he cried.
She was finished with this ridiculous conversation. “I’m not going to let you go free, and I’m not going to shoot you. The only outcome is for me to arrest you.”
Charlie turned his attention toward the passing countryside with its tall, vivid green grass, purple coneflowers, and buckthorn trees. He appeared contemplative as he replied, “There’s another option.”
Hoping she misunderstood his intentions, she insisted, “No one has to die here today.”
“I will hang for my crimes,” he exclaimed, not sparing her a glance, “and I don’t want to die that way!”
She watched in horror as Charlie turned and walked to the edge of the boxcar. His expression had turned vacant, and it was obvious what he intended to do.
“No!” She rushed toward him and grabbed his arm. “You don’t have to do this.”
He looked back with tears in his eyes. “It’s the only way.”
“No, it isn’t,” she asserted.
The train lurched to the side, and she dropped to a kneeling position. Up ahead, she saw a dark, low tunnel looming ahead.
“You need to get down and flatten yourself against the train,” she ordered, her voice panicking.
“Don’t worry about me, Pink,” was his only reply.
Alexina tightened her hold on his arm and tried to yank him down, but he wouldn’t budge. Now the dark tunnel was less than a hundred yards away. Her heart was drumming with trepidation as she pleaded, “Please get down. It doesn’t have to end this way.”
Charlie pulled his arm back and straightened his shoulders as he looked at the tunnel with no fear in his eyes.
“Get down!” she cried before she flattened herself against the roof of the boxcar.
A moment later, she was engulfed in darkness, and she prayed that Charlie had saved himself. However, when the train had passed through the tunnel, Charlie was gone.
Dressed in a blue flounced skirt and matching basque bodice, Alexina hurried up the steps of the Pinkerton Detective Agency building in Chicago. She was late for a meeting with Mr. Hopkins, the man who ran the agency when Mr. Pinkerton was on assignment. He’d sent over a note requesting her presence early this morning, and she had no doubt that he wanted to speak to her about the report she’d filed about her last mission.
Opening the door, she was immediately greeted by the kindhearted, aging secretary.
“Morning, Agent Kimball,” Mrs. Reeves said from behind her desk. “Mr. Hopkins is waiting for you.”
“Is he?” Her eyes darted toward the closed office door.
With a low voice, the secretary revealed, “I would proceed with caution. He’s in a foul mood.”
“When is Mr. Hopkins not in a foul mood?” Alexina grinned as she turned her attention to Mrs. Reeves. “How are you doing this morning?”
Mrs. Reeves’ eyes crinkled. “Very well. I am alive, aren’t I?”
“I, for one, am grateful for that.”
A lock of dark brown hair came out from her tight side bun, and Alexina tucked it behind her ear. “I’d better go speak…” Her words trailed off when Mr. Hopkins’ door was wrenched open.
The stone-faced, brawny man, with slicked-back, black hair, dressed in a brown suit, frowned disapprovingly when he saw her. “Are you having a party out here, agent?”
Knowing that Mr. Hopkins was more bark than bite, she replied in a cheerful voice, “I just arrived, sir.”
“Get in my office, agent,” Mr. Hopkins stated in an annoyed drawl.
She gave Mrs. Reeves a playful shrug, which earned a laugh from the secretary.
“I don’t have all day!” Mr. Hopkins shouted.
Walking through the open door, Alexina nodded graciously as Mr. Hopkins closed the door behind her.
“May I ask why your feathers are ruffled today?” she asked as her eyes took in the small office that barely contained the large desk. There was little to brighten up the room despite the white walls and the window behind the desk.
Mr. Hopkins’ eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond to her snarky comment. He sat down at his desk, leaned back in his chair, and glowered at her.
“Your report didn’t specify how you confirmed that Charlie Rowe was dead,” he said, finally. “It just stated that he was.”
Alexina had hoped to avoid sharing that detail. “I took the train to the next town over and rode back with a deputy. He established that Mr. Rowe had broken his neck.”
“Did you bury him?”
“We did,” she replied, pressing her lips together. She stepped closer to the desk. “I ensured the deputy filled out the appropriate form.”
Mr. Hopkins leaned forward, opened a file and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Yes, Deputy Carpenter did, but I wanted to hear it from you.”
“The case file stated that I was to bring back Charlie Rowe dead or alive, sir,” she remarked firmly. “I had every intention of bringing him back alive, but he chose to jump off the train. I tried to stop him.”
He watched her solemnly, but she detected compassion in his tone. “I’m aware of that, agent.”
“Good, then,” she said, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “What’s my next assignment?”
He leaned back in his chair, considering her for a moment. “I think it might be best if you took a paid leave of absence. After all, it’s the least we could do considering the circumstances.”
“Leave of absence?” she repeated. “Why woul
d I need that?”
“You watched someone jump to their death,” he pointed out. “Maybe take the rest of the week off to sort through your emotions.”
“That’s not necessary.” She tilted her chin defiantly. “I am more than capable of handling a new case.”
“I never implied that you weren’t capable,” he argued, eyeing her with concern. “I’m just worried for your emotional well-being.”
Clasping her hands in front of her, Alexina responded, “I’ve killed men before and haven’t required time off. If I take a few days off, the other agents will perceive me as weak.”
“No, they will perceive you as normal,” he sighed. “We have known each other for nearly ten years, and in that time, I have never known you to take a vacation or even a day off.”
“I don’t require a vacation, and I’m hardly sick. Besides, I prefer to work,” she declared.
“You are a stubborn, irritating woman,” he said with a shake of his head.
She smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Well, it wasn’t one.” He picked up another file from the edge of his desk and placed it in front of him. “I regretfully have some good or bad news, depending on how you look at it.” He pointed toward the chair in front of the desk. “Please have a seat.”
Gracefully, she sat down on the chair, feeling curious about what he was going to say.
Slowly, he opened the file and took out a few papers. “As you know, the great fire in Chicago two years ago caused many businesses to go bankrupt, and our client list rapidly declined. This forced us to transfer some agents to the Denver office. Now, it appears we need to send more.”
