Love Between the Lines (8 page)

She rose to her feet. Of course Langham did too.
“Thank you, Captain. I know you didn’t have to give me an exclusive—you got what you needed without me.”

“
A deal’s a deal.” The captain picked up a sheaf of papers and began to read. She’d been dismissed.

Langham tapped a knuckle on the desk, a soft thud because of his glove.
“May I go?”

The captain waved an impatient hand.
“Yeah, yeah. Go. Just don’t try to go all the way home, Your Lordship.”

Langham gave a deep bow and turned to walk out with Lizzy who waited for him.

It was quiet at the front of the station. “No reporters today. They must not have caught wind that you’re here.”

She looked at him sideways to see if he was mocking her.
“They’re all down at the Tombs, trying to get a look at Gottshield or at Mulberry Street trying to pry out official statements.”

“
The Tombs?”

“
The prison on White Street. Not far from Broadway.”

“
What a colorful name.”

“
Colorful is an apt word. Bad enough it’s near Five Points—it’s a gloomy pit, full of despair. I don’t like going there much, even with Oyster.”

He wore a smug smile
, and she suddenly understood. “You knew all about the Tombs, didn’t you? Why’d you ask?”

“
I enjoy hearing you act as tour guide. I haven’t visited the place, but I admit I’ve seen a description. ‘The dismal fronted pile of bastard Egyptian, like an enchanter’s palace in a melodrama.’”

“
Yeah, accurate. Who wrote that?”

“
Dickens,” he said. “
American Notes
. Did you know the jail is always damp because they built it over a badly drained pond?”

“
Sure.” It annoyed her when visitors knew more of the history of her city than she did.

“
Rather a pity your story has an uninteresting ending. I admit I was hoping for slightly more ingenious criminals.”

“
They were fools, all right.” She wanted to get to work but figured she should push, just a bit. Part of her still didn’t want to leave New York. “Maybe that story is a dud,” she said. “Are you interested in hiring someone who did all that work for an essentially dull piece?”

“
Of course I am. I know very well you’ll make it exciting.”

She tried to examine him for signs of those double entendre
s he seemed to enjoy. Make what exciting?

“
How will you make it better?”

The story. He was talking about the story.

She considered the possibilities out loud. “For one thing, I’m going to go find Howe and get his side of the story if I have to bribe a thousand sergeants. And maybe I’ll see what Gottshield has to say.” She wondered if Gottshield would spit at or curse her. Whatever that animal did was bound to be unpleasant but she was almost used to that.

“
May I buy you a cup of tea?”

“
Coffee,” she corrected. “We’re not in England yet.”

She glanced at the watch pinned to her bodice. Less than an hour and her
hard news piece would get bumped to the morning edition. That would be horrible. Tooley would never forgive her squandering her exclusive with the captain. She walked quickly, almost trotting.

“
No, thank you for the offer of coffee, sir. I have to get the news story written up in about ten minutes.” She waved her little book triumphantly.

“
So you won’t attempt to talk to Howe until later?

“
Yeah. I’ll do that the moment I send this over to Tooley. Gotta find Oyster again. And then—”

“
I’m coming with you.”

“
No.”

“
You are my employee, Miss Tildon. You might get used to listening to me.”

For Pete
’s sake, he was annoying. “I can change my mind about that English job.”

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
“I make a reasonable request and you answer with a threat? Tell me why I should not go with you to the Tombs. If you can persuade me that it’s a bad idea, I will listen.”

What a nuisance that he
was reasonable. Worse, she didn’t want to tell him it was a bad idea because he’d interfere, if not by actually speaking during the interview, then by distracting her with his presence. He did not fit that slimy, loathsome place. Never mind the fact that no one did. “All right, but I hope you’ll stay out of my business once we’re in England. I must be allowed to do my job as I see fit.”

“
Of course,” he said a little too quickly.

“
I’ll meet you at the southeast corner at three o’clock.”

She wrote the short piece sitting in a corner of Tooley’s tiny office so she could turn it in with no delay. Tooley loved it. “I’ll make ’em give you a desk. I’ll do what I can so you’ll be more than a stringer.”

Her heart plummeted.
Now
he had to be willing to give her what she wanted, damn the man. “No. I made a promise to someone else.”

She walked away from Tooley
, making lists of all the reasons she should go with Langham. Oyster would be disappointed if she said yes to staying in New York. She ought to see new lands. But she felt like the city mouse about to be dropped off in the unfamiliar world of the country. More like a rat dragged out into daylight when she only longed for the safety of her familiar basement. And then there was the matter of the intriguing Sir Gideon. But attraction, like fear, mustn’t be on any lists she made.

Oyster disapproved of the trips they took to the Tombs, but he always broug
ht along a supply of mayhem and bribes. Weapons, coins, and meat pies. She carried a basket too. It would be taken by the guards but that was to be expected.

Sir Gideon
had arrived before her and stood waiting, arms folded.

She looked around but saw no other gentlemen nearby, only the usual assortment of police officers
, reporters, and other miscreants. “Where is Mr. Brinker?”

“
Even I wouldn’t be so cruel as to ask him to come to this place.”

As they walked into the building he smiled, as if about to partake of a great treat. It turned out he had one to offer her.

Somehow, during the time she’d been writing the short piece, he’d made connections at the Tombs and had greased their way nicely. Escorted by the guard Sir Gideon had bribed, they slipped through the lobby, past the inspection station to the pens and cells beyond.

Oyster seemed to shrink in on himself.
“I’ll wait out here,” he muttered, eyeing the guard who waited for them to enter the room on the upper story.

When the door clanged behind them,
even the cheery Sir Gideon winced. Lizzy looked around the dark room and began the long description of every detail in her mind, to draw herself away from the hectic emotions.

Mr. Howe
sat on the iron bed built into the wall. He was not glad to see them.

There were no chairs so
Sir Gideon and Lizzy remained standing. Langham introduced himself in his most pompous manner and Mr. Howe didn’t seem to care that an actual baronet had come to interview him. “I have no interest in seeing my name made a mockery in the papers.”

“
That will happen with or without your approval,” Sir Gideon said.

Lizzy quickly spoke up.
“If you speak to us now, give us your version of events, you’ll have some say in what people believe when they see your name.”

Mr. Howe crossed his arms
, and Lizzy noticed that his coat had been torn at the elbow. She indicated the rip. “I can see you’ve suffered already, sir. A gentleman like yourself. You’re a merchant, I understand?”

“
Coal and feed,” he said proudly. “Second biggest in Essex County.”

“
I promise anything we write will treat you with the dignity you deserve,” she said.

Sir Gideon
grinned at her. He heard the ambiguous nature of her promise.

Howe
picked up the bottle that she handed him and uncorked it. “Gottshield’s plan didn’t harm anyone.” He sniffed and gulped down a few mouthfuls of the cooking sherry she’d grabbed from the landlady’s kitchen.

She slipped her book from her pocket and began to write.
“Why do you suppose he abducted those girls?”

“
I told Reilly and Gottshield that I didn’t want the girls to see me—in case one was my daughter, you understand.”

“
Why not?”

“
My girl would run away again if she knew I found her. She’d run off twice already.”

“
That’s dreadful,” Lizzy said. She had a bit of trouble laying on the sympathetic air for the man. “So difficult for you, her family. Why did she do that?”

“
She’s engaged—she
was
engaged to a nice young clerk of mine, but she turned against him. I admit I lost my temper. It’s annoying when you spend all that money on gowns and so on. When she ran off that second time, I tried to tell her, convince her not to call it off. But she’s high-strung, I guess you’d call it and we got into an argument. The girl vanished again before I could tell her I didn’t mean all the things I said.”

Lizzy wished he
’d volunteer what he’d said to make the girl run away, but he continued, “That’s why I hired these men.”

“
Who recommended them?”

The big man
shrugged. “A man in a bar next to a hotel. The place where they’d bring the girls, actually. Then Gottshield arranged it so I’d stop in, take a look at the girl sleeping on a couch. That’s all.”

“
Didn’t it strike you as strange that the girls were all asleep? Didn’t you wonder how they got to that sofa in the first place?”

“
I hired the guys. I wasn’t gonna question how they did the job.”

“
Why didn’t you simply hand them a likeness of your daughter?”

He shifted
on the bed, pushing his back against the wall. “I only have one, and it’s years old.”

The cop banged on the bars.
“Time.”

Oyster joined them
, and they walked down the far edge of the corridor. Too close to the cages and an inmate might be able to grab you.

She tucked away her book.
“I wonder how much of that was true.”

“
He has a daughter,” Sir Gideon said. “I had my man in Albany check. The neighbors haven’t seen her lately. And yes, there was an engagement—or at least an announcement in the local paper.”

She sighed.
Such a wealth of resources at his fingertips. “It’s hard to imagine a less intelligent scheme for such a simple problem. Honestly. And what an anticlimactic ending.”

The three of them skirted past th
e crowds, and once they got well past the entrance, Lizzy stopped to pull in some deep breaths of less dank air.

Sir Gid
eon’s hand was firm on her shoulder. He turned her toward him and frowned as he examined her. “You look pale.”

“
No surprise. I guess I’ll go write up the rest.” She tilted her head as she looked into his face. “You seem all right. I mean it didn’t get to you.”

His smile was sour.
“I’ve spent enough time in hellholes, I’m used to them.”

“
They certainly don’t fit your life now.”

“
I’m on holiday.”

“
Funny version of a holiday. What’ll you do for fun now?”

“
I’ll write a version of the story.” He squeezed her shoulder and let go. “No need to be so sorrowful, Miss Drury. I promise my story will not echo your own.”

She hadn
’t been thinking about the story for once. She’d been thinking about him and how comforting his hand on her shoulder felt, fending off the gloom after the journey into the Tombs.

She finished her work for Tooley and decided she’d take some time to simply walk around New York, saying good-bye to the places she loved. But the day before her ship sailed, she noticed more than the usual crowds gathered around some newsboys, who were hoarse from shouting the latest. She pushed her way through a crowd of men reading, paid her coin and found a short piece in the paper—her paper, well, at least
her
story.

The men
standing about the street corner reading were fascinated by some baseball news or something of that rot. Her interest was arrested by a story on the second page. Another girl had been found lying near the hotel. There was one big difference in this case—she’d been murdered.

Clutching a copy in her hand, Lizzy
rushed to the paper’s offices to call on the spaniel-eyed editor. Tooley gazed at her with reproachful sorrow as she spread the paper open on his desk.

He di
dn’t even look down at the paper. “You could go after that story if you weren’t about to ship off to England. And you could have tracked down what they’re calling the fourth culprit. Another of your Blue-Eyed Prey pieces would go on the front page.”

“
Why is this girl dead?” Lizzy peered at the smudged engraving. “And her hair is darker than the others. And she has been identified as a city resident. The others were all fresh off the train and the boat, weren’t they?”

Tooley shrugged
. He turned away and leaned over the story he was editing. “The theory is that Reilly hired another thug and this one developed a taste for drugging girls for Howe.”

“
Yeah? And why would anyone think that?”

“
She was found in the same hotel, and our next edition will have the news that there was a note to Howe near her body, as if the thug who’d done it didn’t realize that the others had been caught. The police figure that once he caught onto their arrests, this other thug, the fourth man, killed her in a panic. He’s probably going to flee to keep from being uncovered by Howe and Gottshield.”

“
But they were caught days ago.”

He looked up at her, exasperated.
“The note found near her was a mess, as if it had been written by a man who could barely read. A virtual illiterate wouldn’t have read accounts of their capture.”

She put down the paper on the cluttered corner of his desk.
“Is that part your theory or what the cops have put out?”

“
Both. Listen, Tildon, I have an afternoon edition to put together, and unless you’re here to tell me you’ll return to the bosom of the paper, scat.”

She left but hated the feeling she
hadn’t finished the job after all.

For all the hours she’d spent near the ships and docks, she’d never paid as much attention to the actual water and boats as she should have. The South Street Seaport made her nervous. And she didn’t like the ship which loomed huge in front of her.

When
she gave her name to the sailor waiting at the bottom of the narrow gangplank, she was surprised to find herself booked on the first class deck. Oyster, too excited about their journey to worry that they’d been separated, happily waved good-bye and went below to second class.

Sir Gideon
soon found her as she wandered the deck, watching the little boats and bigger ones sailing and puttering around the busy harbor.

She rested her arms on the polished railing.
“Why first class? I should think second is good enough.”

“
I don’t want to hear you’ve gone down there to see for yourself,” Sir Gideon said. “Also I don’t want to read a piece about the appalling conditions of the sailors. Nor am I interested in a column about the inedible food in steerage.”

He was deflecting her question by turning the attention to her
, of course. What was he trying to hide?

She tilted her head to look at him. He wore a well-tailored dark blue suit with a dark
gray waistcoat and hat. Nothing like the slightly disheveled man who’d sat in the café ten days ago or led her through the Tombs a couple of days earlier. He was too intimidating and she decided to ignore him.

She had plenty
of time to figure out why he’d paid for a first class ticket for her—and she also knew some good jabs and kicks Oyster had taught her. If he expected her job duties to include more than the usual reporters’ duties…the dismaying question came to her: would she want to fight him off? She turned and walked away.

The paper in her gloved hand bore the number of her stateroom. She looked at each polished brass number until a white-coated steward hurried forward. He introduced himself, glanced at the paper
, and led the way.

“
Naturally a stewardess will be your attendant, but I’m delighted to help you now.” He made a show of unlocking the door and opening it. She stepped into a teak-and-linen paradise.

“
This is lovely.” She went to a round window. A porthole, she remembered now, and stood on tiptoe to look out over the sparkling gray-blue water.

Sir Gideon
leaned on the wall near the heavy door. She didn’t invite him to sit down.

She made a slow circle of the room, touching the fresh flowers that sat on a teak table next to the bed.
“So where’s your room?”

“
On the other side of the deck,” he said.

That reassured her.
She unpinned and removed her hat and stripped off her gloves, feeling quite daring to do such actions in front of a man. In her bedroom. Never mind that the door lay wide open onto the deck.

Sir Gideon
wasn’t watching her, however. He wandered the stateroom, peering at the paintings of ships. “I should tell you that I have received a letter from your father.”

Her heart stuttered
. “Go on.”

“
He wished me to know that you are a lady, no matter what I thought or the impression you wished to give. And if I should toy with you or your affections, he would hear of the matter.” He pushed at the edge of a painting. It had been firmly anchored to the wall.

“
I have no idea why he would write to you.” He would never have written to her, of course.

Langham
’s voice was soft. “He’d protect you.”

“
Yes.” She squeezed her fist tight to drive off the tenderness and annoyance she felt about her father at that moment. Sir Gideon was more than enough to cope with.