An Untimely Frost (5 page)

C
HAPTER
8

T
he day following her interview as Mrs. Cartwright, Lilly approached the law office of Simon Linedecker with a growing feeling that divorcing Timothy was not to be. Now that she'd made the spur-of-the-moment decision during her interview with the Pinkertons to rid herself of him, she was anxious to get the whole ordeal under way. Since she hadn't a penny to her name, Pierce and Rose had been happy to lend her the money to hire an attorney, and here she was, midafternoon and no further along than she had been when she set out.

She could not believe it was so hard to rid oneself of a thieving, fornicating husband. Though she knew society frowned upon divorce, she had not supposed that lawyers, who generally would do anything to put money in their pockets, would hold such negative viewpoints about a growing trend. Nevertheless, it seemed that reputable attorneys did not deal in “that sort of thing.” One even went so far as to say that he had no desire for that kind of “notoriety.” Her spirits had deteriorated with each legal representative she visited.

She had obtained Linedecker's name from the last lawyer she'd spoken with—the fourth who had refused to even hear her reasons for seeking a divorce. With an excess of disdain, he'd informed her that Mr. Linedecker was not as discriminating as he and his colleagues.

Taking a deep breath, Lilly stepped into what she assumed was the outer office. The cramped room held bookshelves sagging with weighty law tomes and a scarred desk where a not unattractive, square-jawed young man sat chewing on the nub of his pen while examining some figures set before him. A lock of fair hair—devoid of pomade—fell over his forehead, which was wrinkled in a frown.

He looked up when she entered, myopic brown eyes blinking from behind wire-rimmed spectacles. A pleasant smile replaced the frown, and he stood, almost knocking over the chair in his haste.

“Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon. I was wondering if Mr. Linedecker might have an opening today. The matter is rather urgent.”

“I'm Simon Linedecker,” the young man said, extending his hand.

She accepted his handshake. “Lilly Warner.”

“Please have a seat, Miss Warner. How may I be of assistance?” he asked, donning his most professional mien.

“It's Mrs. Warner,” she corrected, as her mind sifted through the facts and came to some conclusions about the young attorney. His small office was not in the most fashionable part of town, and he had no office clerk, no pressing cases. Lilly felt certain she'd found a lawyer who would not be scandalized by her request. “I'm here to inquire if you accept divorce cases.”

A self-deprecating smile revealed an attractive crease in his right cheek. “Not only do I accept them, I welcome them, Mrs. Warner. It is not easy to establish oneself fresh out of law school without the right family connections.”

Lilly murmured an appropriate reply. For the most part, only the sons of the wealthy were able to obtain a law degree, but if she were to hazard a guess to the reason for his lack of clients, she would have to say that it was at least in part due to his boyish looks and his definite lack of polish. His rumpled tweed suit was out of mode, and the knot of his cravat was dated. His sandy hair, worn a bit too long for smartness, was rumpled, as if he made a habit of running his fingers through it. Instead of looking professional, he gave the appearance of an untidy schoolboy.

Lilly couldn't have cared less what he looked like. His law diploma hung on the wall, and he was not averse to helping her.

“Tell me about your marriage and why you wish to dissolve it.”

Starting at the moment she'd literally run into him at the train station, Lilly recounted her meeting with Tim, the problems during the marriage, and ended with the tale of his thievery and assault on her and Rose. She also told him of her visit to MacGregor's and what she'd learned there, including her run-in with the loathsome Colleen. Linedecker made notes throughout her testimony.

“It sounds as though you have quite a case,” he said when she finished. “How long did you say you've been married?”

“Just over four months.” She opened her reticule, plucked out a folded paper, and placed it on the desk. “I brought my marriage license.”

“Very good,” he told her, taking the document from her and placing it on the one spot on his desk not covered in clutter. They talked a bit longer, and Lilly gave him the other information he asked for, stating that she would like to take back her maiden name. She wanted nothing to remind her of Timothy Warner and his lies.

“I'll be glad to help you, Mrs. Warner,” he said at last. “It's troubling how easily women fall prey to unscrupulous men. My own sister married a scoundrel who kept her with child and then wouldn't provide for her and the children.”

Lilly felt an instant connection with the unknown woman. “What happened to her?”

“She died giving birth to her fifth child,” he said in a flat, emotionless voice. Then he seemed to shake off the melancholy. “I'm sorry. I'm not usually so forthcoming with my personal woes, but when I hear of others who are suffering from similar fates, it brings it all back. Unfortunately, there's little I can do about it but assist those who come to me for help.”

“I'm very glad you feel that way,” Lilly told him. “I was beginning to think I'd have to stay married to the man.” They discussed Linedecker's fee, and she paid him a portion to get the proceedings started. As he walked her to the door, he asked, “How can I reach you?”

“I'm not sure where I'll be after this week,” she told him, taking the business card he offered and handing him one of her
cartes de visite,
one of the popular calling cards most actors carried, listing their qualifications. If she left with the troupe, they would be going to Springfield; if the Pinkertons hired “Mrs. Cartwright” or “Mrs. Partridge,” Lilly had no idea where she would be sent. “Once I know something, I'll be in touch.”

“Good enough. I'll get started right away.”

C
HAPTER
9

L
illy rose each day and went about her usual business, practicing her lines, going to rehearsal, and giving a performance each night, but the Pinkerton brothers were never far from her mind. Mrs. Cartwright had received a letter from the agency stating that she did not fit the criteria. Lilly had expected as much. The Southern belle was far too flighty and flashy for serious undercover work.

“Mrs. Partridge” had yet to hear from the agency, and the troupe was scheduled to leave in less than a week. If she hadn't heard from William Pinkerton by then, Lilly had no choice but to get on the train bound for Springfield.

On Tuesday afternoon, she was preparing to study her lines—Pierce had given her yet another lead role in a new comedy—when there was a knock at her door. To her surprise, Pierce stood there, an envelope in his hand.

“Some young man brought this a few minutes ago,” he said. “It's from Mr. William Pinkerton to Mrs. Warren Partridge.”

Lilly snatched it from him and, hurrying to the desk, she slipped the letter opener beneath the flap and slit open the envelope. Her hands trembled as she pulled the paper free and unfolded it.

“Well, what does the bloody thing say?” Pierce grumbled after a moment.

She stared in disbelief at the letter. “They want me—Mrs. Partridge—to come back for a second interview at two o'clock this afternoon.” She looked from the note to Pierce. “That's encouraging, don't you think?”

“Very.” Pierce summoned a thin smile. “And won't the brothers Pinkerton be surprised when they do hire Mrs. Partridge and find out she's Lilly Long?”

“I'm not telling them that!”

“Of course you are.”

“Are you mad? They'll be furious and boot me out the door.”

“Lilly. Luv.” Pierce placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “You have no choice but to tell them the truth.”

She shook her head and stared into his resolute eyes. The idea that had seemed so smart just days ago now seemed impulsive, and worse, foolish.

“Don't look so down in the mouth. It will be fine.”

“How can you say that? I deliberately set out to bamboozle the most respected law enforcement agency in the country.”

“No, no, you haven't.”

“What would you call it?”

“What was our purpose when we concocted the plan for you to go back as two different people if they turned you down?”

“You said it would make them see how good I was at acting. At becoming another person.”

“Correct. And did they recognize either of your other personalities?”

Lilly grew thoughtful. “No,” she said at last. “They didn't seem to at the time, and from their response, it would appear that they believe we are three distinct people.”

“And what does that tell you?”

Lilly thought about it a moment and her discomfort eased somewhat. Leave it to Pierce to put things into perspective. She lifted her chin in triumph. “That I did a bang-up job of bamboozling the most respected law enforcement agency in the country?” she asked with a cheeky smile.

“Well, yes,” Pierce said with his own smile. “You did do that. But what it says is that you did a bang-up job of what you set out to do. You played your roles to perfection. Even if they are a bit miffed, they'll be forced to admit that your acting ability is unsurpassed. You tell them that you came back to interview as different women to prove to them that you can do the job, and do it convincingly. And that, my dear,” Pierce said with a smile, “is how you play this hand.”

C
HAPTER
10

F
or the fourth time, Lilly took a carriage to the Pinkerton offices. Though she'd been to Chicago several times, the speed of its growth never ceased to amaze her. The ten years since the fire that had destroyed more than three square miles of the city had in some ways been a blessing. Narrow streets had been replaced with thoroughfares that were at least eighty feet wide, many of them paved with brick or cinder. Some were even macadamized, and gaslight illumination was common. Even the gutters seemed cleaner, she thought as her cab pulled to a stop at her destination.

She entered the agency's office and offered Harris a prim nod. He told her to be seated. She searched his eyes for any signs of recognition and found none. The knowledge gave her scant comfort. Did she really believe the Pinkerton men would be impressed with the fact that they had been tricked by a chit of a woman?

“Mrs. Partridge? The Misters Pinkerton will see you now.”

Lilly rose, smoothed her palm over her graying wig and drab olive-colored skirt, and followed him to the inner office door.

“Thank you, Harris,” William said. Turning to Lilly, he said, “Please come in, Mrs. Partridge.”

As she entered the room, Lilly noticed another man seated on the sofa next to Robert. She clamped her mouth shut lest her jaw drop open in surprise and did her best not to stare. Unless she was mistaken, the third man in the room was the celebrated Allan Pinkerton himself. Though he had come far since his stroke, the once-vigorous investigator was clearly not the robust man he once was. He had aged beyond his sixty-one years.

“Mrs. Partridge, I'd like you to meet my father, Allan Pinkerton, the founder of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency,” William said, gesturing toward his father.

“Forgive me for not standing, Mrs. Partridge,” the legendary detective said, “but I've walked more than ten miles today and am a bit weary.”

Allan's Scots accent was still thick, and his speech was somewhat slurred, but his shrewd gaze missed little. As silly as it was, Lilly's first inclination was to curtsy. Instead, she crossed the room, leaned forward, and offered her hand. “Mr. Pinkerton,” she said in Mrs. Partridge's grating voice. “What a pleasure to meet you. I've been a fan of your detective stories for some time, and my copy of your memoirs is quite dog-eared from so much reading.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Mrs. Partridge. My sons tell me that you have many qualities that might be useful in our line of business.”

It didn't escape Lilly's notice that Robert's mouth had drawn into a flat line of disapproval.

“I believe so, sir.”

William gestured for Lilly to take a seat, which she did, her back ramrod straight.

“We understand that you have no family to make demands on you,” he said, steering the conversation back to the task at hand, “and we wondered what your commitment might be to your current position.”

“I haven't taken a teaching post since coming from Texas,” Mrs. Partridge told them.

They questioned her at length and in more depth about her schooling and the subjects she had studied, and asked her about her ideas on how to go about “detecting.” Appearing satisfied with the answers she gave, William said, “Of all the applicants, you appear to be the most qualified, except for one other whose credentials were impeccable but was far too young for our purposes.”

“Oh?”

Allan Pinkerton laughed, a rusty, hardly used sound. “I'd like to have met the lass,” he said. “William was quite taken with her.”

Lilly hadn't expected that such an opportune time to reveal the truth would be dropped into her lap. “Really?” she said, in a slightly shaking voice. “Perhaps that can be arranged.”

Without pausing long enough to lose her courage, she reached up with trembling hands and removed Mrs. Partridge's wire-rimmed glasses from her nose and then pulled the wig from her head to reveal her own glossy red hair.

“Good heaven above!” William cried. “Mrs. Warner!”

He was definitely shocked, Lilly thought. In fact, his face looked so red she feared he might succumb to a fit of apoplexy as his father had. Well, the fat was in the fire now, so there was nothing to do but see if she could pull it out.

“Yes,” she said in her normal voice, a voice that was tinged with a hint of asperity. “And I must admit I was disappointed that you let my age stop you from at least giving me the position on a trial basis, since Kate Warne was hired when she was but twenty-three. Mrs. Cartwright was disappointed as well.”

“Mrs. Cartwright ?” William repeated, frowning. Robert tilted his head back and groaned.

Without a word, Lilly reached into her reticule. Allan's face wore a considering expression, and the brothers could only watch with open mouths as she withdrew the lace-edged fan and proceeded to flutter it in front of her face. Rising and dropping into a deep curtsy, she gave William a coy look. “I was so disappointed when you turned me down. Why, I had a sick headache and had to take to my bed for a full day.”

Returning to her normal tone, Lilly said, “Of course, Mrs. Cartwright did not really expect to be hired. She is a rather flighty creature.”

“By all that is holy,” Robert shouted, leaping to his feet to shake his finger in her face. “You, madam, have attempted to play us the fool.”

“That was not my intention, sir,” Lilly told him in an even tone. “I only—”

“Bah ! You deliberately set out to dupe us,” he interrupted. “There is no excuse for it ! We will not have it !”

“Be quiet, Robert.”

The blunt command came from Allan, who up to this point had contented himself with watching things unfold in contemplative silence.

“Father, she—”

“Quiet, I say!” Allan Pinkerton focused his gaze on Lilly. It was clear to her that while the stroke might have debilitated him physically, it had done little to dull his intellect. “Please continue, Mrs. Partridge—excuse me—Mrs. Warner. I believe you were explaining your actions before my son's rude interruption.”

Lilly looked into the detective's piercing eyes. “Though I am much younger than you might like, sir, and realize that I may lack the experience gained with years, it was never my intent to deceive, only to prove that I possess the necessary skill for this position, which I believe I did, since no one suspected that the three ladies who interviewed were one and the same.”

“I'd say you proved that quite admirably, young lady,” Allan said. “And I must say I admire your attention to detail as well as your tenacity.”

“Tenacity!” Robert sputtered. “More like trickery!”

“Oh, hush, Robert!” A rare twinkle lit Allan's eyes.

“I apologize if my methods seem extreme and unorthodox,” Lilly said, “but I understand that you're a proponent of various techniques as long as the ends justify the means.”

“Indeed I am.”

“It was that very reasoning that led me to go so far in order to be hired by your agency,” she explained. “I ask that you give me this position, Mr. Pinkerton, if only on a trial basis. I will, of course, gladly accept any assignment, but because of my own background, my greatest desire is to help women who've been taken advantage of by deceitful men.”

“A praiseworthy ambition.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Pinkerton sat there for long moments, lost in thought. “Will you step out into the anteroom, Mrs. Warner,” Allan said at last. “I would like to discuss this with my sons.”

Lilly sat in the outer office with the clerk, listening to the
clackety-clack
of the Remington typewriter Harris was using, while they both tried to ignore the yelling and cursing as the Pinkerton men argued over her like dogs over a meaty bone.

At the end of ten minutes, she was called back in. The tension in the room was palpable. Allan wore an unruffled expression, but his color was high. Thank God he had not suffered another shock on her account! William looked relieved. Robert was livid.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Warner,” William said when she was seated across from him once more. “You are the newest employee of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, on that trial basis you mentioned.”

The knot in Lilly's stomach unfurled, and her first true smile encompassed them all. “Thank you. I appreciate your confidence more than I can say and promise to do my best.”

“I'm certain you will,” William said. “We do have an assignment for you, a missing person—a missing family, actually. There will be no need for you to take on another persona. You will just be Lilly Warner, trying to locate a certain individual. It's up to you whether or not you'll be better served by letting people know you're with the agency. It may not be very exciting, but I'm sure you understand that as a new recruit, we can't throw you into the lion's den, so to speak.”

She glanced at Allan, whose face was impassive. There was no mistaking the gloating expression on Robert's face at knowing her first assignment was one of little consequence.

“Thank you, sir. It's sound thinking on your part to give me something uncomplicated for my first assignment as a detective.”

“For the record, my father has always preferred the use of operative instead of detective, since that word has come to mean someone with a less-than-savory reputation. You should also know that we have a code of ethics written by my father entitled
General Principles
. You will be given a copy. We expect all of our operatives to honor them.”

“I will do my best.”

Allan spoke up. “This is a high calling, Mrs. Warner. I'll be the first to admit that you are quite the expert at role-playing, which will stand you in good stead, but you must also become a close observer of people. To analyze those around you, judge their feelings, their actions, and the reasons behind those actions.”

Lilly nodded, doing her best to store away every word he spoke.

“It's been my experience that people like to talk, even when they've done something wrong,” the eldest Pinkerton offered. “It is up to the operative to judge just when to force the issue, as well as what means to employ to obtain the information. As you pointed out earlier, as long as justice wins out, the ends justify the means.”

“I understand.” Her head spun with all the information she was receiving. Perhaps it was better after all that this first job was somewhat trivial.

William handed her a small booklet. “This is an overview of the case,” he explained. “We make a journal for each client. In it, you will find the client's name and problem, what he would like us to do for him, and a detailed plan of how to proceed. Look it over thoroughly tonight.”

Lilly took the proffered book. “Thank you, sir. I will.”

“We want you to come in each day for the remainder of this week and part of next for further instruction. At the end of that time, you will be sent to the southern part of the state, a town called Vandalia. Our clients are a wealthy man and his wife who wish to purchase some land and a house near there that they desire to turn into a home for unwed mothers.”

“A noble undertaking,” Lilly commented, thinking of her own mother.

“Yes,” Robert interjected. “It's amazing how many young women have no moral standards these days.”

Wisely, Lilly did not rise to the bait.

A red-faced William continued. “The house once belonged to a Reverend Harold Purcell and his family. He moved to the area approximately twenty-three years ago in the capacity of minister and bought a house some few miles outside of town, which he called Heaven's Gate. I understand it was quite a showplace in its day. This is the house our clients wish to purchase. The problem is that they have been unable to locate the Purcells to see if they will sell and, if so, at what price.”

“No one knows where they went?” Lilly asked.

“Not that our clients have been able to find out. Thus, they came to us.”

“You would think that one of the church members would know something,” Lilly said with a frown. “That's a bit strange, isn't it?”

“Not so strange when you know that the preacher and his family left town in the dark of night in possession of all the church's money,” William offered.

“Oh!” Lilly was silent a moment, then said, “I don't imagine it was the first time he had done such a thing.”

“I'm afraid I don't follow you, Mrs. Warner.”

“To the best of my knowledge, ministers do not make great amounts of money. If this Reverend Purcell came to town and bought a huge fancy house, where and how did he obtain the funds to do so?” She shrugged. “I suppose he could have been independently wealthy, but that seems somewhat improbable.”

“Bravo, Mrs. Warner,” Allan Pinkerton said. Approval gleamed in his eyes. “Excellent reasoning.”

“Yes,” William concurred. “Excellent.”

Robert remained silent.

“Your job is to find the Purcells, see if they will sell, and report back to us. If they cannot be found, or they are opposed to letting go of the property, our clients will be forced to look elsewhere.”

“I understand, and please, for the record I would like to be called by my maiden name, Long. I've taken steps to have it changed legally, when my divorce is finalized.”

“Of course,” William said with a nod.

After discussing a few more details about the position, Lilly thanked them once again and left. She stepped into the cold March air, her mind whirling, a wide, somewhat silly smile on her face. She felt like doing a jig down the street, but of course, she couldn't. She was a professional, a bona-fide agent of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency. Part of the “Eye That Never Sleeps.”