Love Between the Lines (7 page)

Miss Drury wouldn
’t fit his past nor his future and the present was too fleeting to matter—at least for someone determined to behave like a gentleman and he liked being a gentleman. The role fit better and better these days.

But he was on holiday and would
take on the familiar role of reporter for a while longer. He’d missed the excitement of tracking a story in person. As they set off to find a hansom cab, he asked, “I wonder if I might come to see your villainous Mr. Gottshield when the captain brings him in?”

She looked horrified.
“Oh no. I can’t. I promised any story about the kidnappings to Mr. Tooley. No matter what, I have to produce something for him. He’s a wonderful guy, and I don’t want to disappoint him.”

He
wondered if the hot discomfort in his stomach was jealousy.

The story. Of course
that was the issue. He’d buy the rights from the New York paper if he wanted that story so badly.

When he bid Miss Drury good-bye, after arranging to meet at the docks, he took her hand and held it. Her eyes met his and narrowed. He waited. Yes. He cheered internally as her face reddened. It was as satisfying as a perfect tennis serve, smashing the ball over the net. Point scored easily against an opponent.

He kissed her gloved knuckles and grinned at the faint scent of coffee.
“I don’t mind you working on stories for other papers before we disembark, but try not to get kidnapped before we next meet, Miss Drury.”

He watched with some amusement and amazement as Mr. Brinker took a formal leave, bowing over her hand, behaving as something more than a servant. Perhaps Miss Drury had managed to put a dent in the man
’s iron set of rules.

“
Very appealing female,” Gideon said as they walked away.

“
Also eccentric, sir,” was all Brinker said. Gideon wasn’t sure why that note of disapproval in his manservant’s voice cheered him.

Up in her room, Lizzy felt as if she could breathe easily for the first time that day. The strange combination of Mr. Brinker and Sir Gideon disturbed her usual equanimity. And now she’d be sailing for another country. With them.

She sat on the narrow bed and looked around her room.
It had always felt a safe place, even after someone had broken in and stolen a few items of clothing and some papers. This had become her home. She stifled a sigh and considered what must be done before she boarded the ship for England.

Packing
was easy—all of her possessions fit in the ugly trunk standing in the corner. But the rest of her life would be more complicated.

The latest Pete Devlin adventure story had to be finished. The list of people
to whom she’d have to bid good-bye was long. Some would be satisfied with a note. Others would require a real visit.

She mentally composed her list of acquaintances and resources: criminals, reporters, fallen women, cops, bartenders, waiters, shoeshine and newspaper boys, a laundress, a midwife,
several longshoremen, the hospital porter. So many people would be insulted if she didn’t bid them farewell.

Any of the
names on her list would be enough to cause her poor father to have an apoplectic fit—all the more reason to put distance between Mr. Drury and his daughter.

Lizzy felt her shoulder
s hunch around her ears and forced herself to relax. She dipped her pen in the inkwell and wrote the next note, a letter to her mother, informing her that she would keep the necklace and never sell it.

No doubt I
’ll be attending balls and so on in London,
she wrote to her mother.
I’ll wear your lovely jewelry and think of you.
She hoped her mother would be amused rather than depressed by the joke of Lizzy as a socialite. To her father’s sorrow, their family would never make it to the highest echelons. Lizzy suspected he blamed both the women in his family.

For the next few days, she concentrated on the easier articles. Certainly no more trying to get herself kidnapped. Yet she couldn’t let go of that story entirely, so she went after it by the more traditional route.

At the busy
first precinct, she sought out her favorite source, a garrulous cop named Clark. She only had to pay him a dollar before he’d talk. “Well, miss, apparently whoever’s taking ’em likes females with blue eyes. Like yours. Same height too.” He winked at her. “You didn’t hear that from me, mind. Better get an official report from Mulberry Street.”

“
Of course I won’t say a word about you.”

That was interesting, she supposed. As she made her way back to
her boardinghouse, she formed the headline about Blue-Eyed Prey. And she’d describe the dastardly henchmen this reporter had actually encountered in person. She’d write up a piece for Tooley and, walking down the crowded streets, she composed the sensational paragraphs.

Back in her room, she stood and removed her
hat, still wondering what Gottshield and his pal wanted from the women.

“
You’re a dog with a bone too big for it,” Oyster had once told her as she hunted down a lead. “You’ll eat at it until it’s gone or it makes you sick.”

Blue-eyed girls, two people had said so now…
She caught sight of her own eyes in the speckled old mirror perched over the bureau. Very blue. No wonder they’d attempted to pick her up twice. A distinct shiver ran down her spine. Her methods to track down some stories gave her chills when she recalled them after the fact, once the fascination and curiosity had drained away.

Then Captain Kelly sent word that Gottshield had been apprehended.

She was in such a hurry
, she actually grabbed a cab to race to the precinct.

Kelly glared up at her from his desk. He pointed to a chair. This was one of the
few times she’d been invited to sit.

He launched into speech before she had time to put the folders on the floor next to the chair.
“A ’tec from the nineteenth precinct nabbed Gottshield, took him straight to the Tombs, and so you won’t be listening. We got a statement from that Kendall gent you brought with you—though that isn’t his real name.”

She wanted to pull out her notebook but knew he might object. So she only nodded.
“I know.”

The captain went on.
“Some kind of British lord or something. We got him, got the waiters, so we don’t need your statement. So we don’t require you.”

She held her breath to keep her curses at bay.
“What about Hoffman? You need the chemist’s—”

“
We went by and picked up the report straight from the horse’s mouth. I even paid the man.” He shuffled some papers and held out a letter on Dr. Hoffman’s familiar stationery. “The results. Take a look and give it back. You can get your own copy.”

Captain Kelly had no real need for her.
Her heart sank. “I guess there’s no point in my sticking around here, then.”

He gave a disgusted sniff.
“I don’t forget my favors, Tildon. Get out your pad. There’ll be a formal statement late this afternoon. The chief said I could talk to you alone.”

The chief
’s statement would be too late for the afternoon editions. But not too late for her story. “Oh golly, I love you, Captain Kelly.”

He gave her a sour look.
“I don’t have time for nonsense.”

“
No, sir.” She dug into her pocket at once for her notebook. The captain flipped open his own occurrence book and drawled off the statement in standard stilted police language.

But it was poetry as far as she was concerned. A wondrous tale all for her ears alone. Only her. Granted it wasn
’t as good as being witness to the capture, but she could imagine.

“
Mr. Gottshield was apprehended at his brother’s residence at fourteen-fourteen East Eighty-First Street. He surrendered without a fight.”

That
’s a pity, Lizzy thought as she scribbled his words.

“
And he was cooperative with the police.” For a moment, the captain’s eyes warmed. “A poltroon. A coward, thank you, Lord,” he muttered. He reverted to his officious drone. “Gottshield revealed that he was hired by this man.” He slid a photo across the table.

She stabbed a finger at the rogue
’s gallery shot of a bug-eyed, snarling man. “That’s the first one! The first one who grabbed me.”

He nodded.
“William Reilly. Now deceased.”

Her response was instantaneous.
“Nothing to do with me.”

The captain
’s brows knit. Another look of disgust. “No need to conjure alibis, Tildon. The man was a well-known scrapper. He died in a bar fight after knifing a rival to get a job. Unrelated to this case.”

There was a knock at the door.
“That’ll be the British guy.” In a louder voice, he said, “Come.”

Captain Kelly looked up.
“Lord Langham.”

“
I’m only a Sir,” Langham said mildly. Without waiting for permission, he picked up the wooden chair from a corner, carried it to the front of the desk, and took a seat next to Lizzy.

She
’d forgotten how much space he seemed to occupy. Or more it was the whole room shifted when he entered. Even the light seemed to change.

Brinker had hinted that
he wanted to go into politics—and he’d be good at it. He had what her father called “presence.” Especially when he smiled, which he was doing at her now. “You’re here too? I’m glad to see you again. Are you ready to sail? We leave in a few days.”

“
Well, well. I’d heard rumors.” The captain narrowed his eyes at Lizzy. “You’re going to England?” He managed to pack a world of disapproval into the question. She nodded.

“
Neither of you are going anywhere. Not yet. Not until this case is cleared up.”

“
That’s why you summoned me?” Langham sounded bored. “To tell me this.”

The captain sniffed.
“Yeah.”

“
I was given to understand that this wasn’t really under your jurisdiction. And at any rate, you have no right to hold me.”

Kelly
’s voice was soft which meant he was seriously angry. “I can bust you on some kinda charge, mister. I mean, my lord.”

Langham put the back of
his hand to his mouth, suppressing a yawn. Lizzy was impressed that he seemed unmoved by the captain’s sour mood. “We’re sailing in two days. We will be available to you until then.”

“
You and who else in this we? You speaking for Tildon?”

“
Miss Tildon is now my employee.”

“
Oh?” Captain Kelly stared at her.

“
He’s a newspaper publisher. I’m writing articles for him.” To her annoyance, he didn’t look away.

“
Go on, Captain. You were telling me about the man who hired Gottshield. The dead guy, Reilly.”

The captain shifted and tapped his book.
“He was hired by another man. A Mr. Howe. We found him easy enough because he’s a businessman in Albany.”

“
Some business,” Lizzy said under her breath.

“
It’s true. The rest is plain odd. He says he was simply on the lookout for his daughter. She ran away and isn’t interested in coming home. So rather than just taking this wealthy Albany businessman to meet the girls, Gottshield and Reilly were knocking out the girls and taking them to a hotel for him to view. Apparently they still hadn’t found Miss Howe.”

“
That’s pretty elaborate.”

“
He didn’t want to see the girls awake. We got about six girls accounted for from Gottshield, and now that we got that searching-for-a-lost-daughter story, more victims might come forward.”

She sighed.
“Yeah. Not so salacious as girls bound for a wh
o
—
” She stopped herself, recalling the mixed company. “A house of ill repute.”

Kelly coughed.
“There’s a part of the story we don’t need you to tell.”

He squinted at her.

She solemnly put her hand over her heart. “I promise not to write a word. Please tell me, sir.”

“
Reilly developed an interest in messing about with some of the girls while they were knocked out. He touched them only above the waist.”

“
Oh, that. I know. He tried it with me. Ugh.”

The captain smirked
. Sir Gideon shifted in his chair and muttered something about how it was too bad the man was dead.

Kelly shot him a glance before turning his attention back to Lizzy.
“But you hold back on that part of the story, understand? You tell it so that there won’t be any shame attached. That way, girls who ain’t spoke up yet will come forward. You tell your readers any girl who woke under mysterious circs to send word to Mulberry Street or me. We’ll be discreet. We’ll get Howe and Gottshield good.” He gave one of his rare, rather frightening smiles.