Love in Disguise (5 page)

Gates’s mouth snapped shut like a trap, then fell open again. “Wh-what did you say?”

“I’m sure Roland Lockwood gave his usual brilliant performance, but what did you think of the new female lead? Did she measure up to Magdalena Cole’s standard?” Ellie tilted her head and smiled up at him, though her legs were trembling so hard she could barely stand.

Gates shook his head as if trying to decide whether her questions were intended to distract him or merely the ramblings of an aging woman. “Whether or not you saw me at the theater last night is of no importance, madam. And it’s hardly germane to the issue at hand. What matters here is—”

“—whether or not I possess the skills needed for this assignment. For your information, I was nowhere near the Orpheum last night.”

“Then how could you possibly know . . .” Gates looked at Fleming, who smiled and shrugged.

“She knew about my bursitis, as well.”

The two fell silent. Finally Gates drew in a slow breath and murmured, “She really is exactly what we’ve been looking for.”

Spotting a chink in their armor, Ellie forged ahead. “Let me get this straight, gentlemen. You want someone who looks like me and possesses my intuitive ability but has the strength and stamina of a much younger woman. Is that correct?”

Fleming and Gates exchanged glances. Gates had the grace to look mildly embarrassed when he spoke. “I suppose it sounds unreasonable, but that’s what the job demands.”

“So what you’re looking for is a robust young woman with an older woman’s exterior. Just how likely do you think you are to find that combination?”

Gates smothered a smile. “I have to admit, it does sound rather ludicrous when you put it that way.”

“Then it seems to me you’ve created quite a predicament for yourselves. Tell me one thing: have you interviewed any other candidates besides me and the young woman you spoke to yesterday?”

Fleming straightened as though someone had shoved a ramrod down the back of his suit coat. His face brightened. “So she’s the one who told you about the position.”

“In a manner of speaking.” Ellie rose and pulled her shoulders back into her usual upright posture. With a theatrical flourish, she took off her spectacles and removed the wax plumpers she’d placed between her cheeks and her gums. Speaking in her normal tone, she said, “Gentlemen, that young woman and I are one and the same.”

Fleming and Gates froze in place, like actors in a tableau.

“Good heavens!” Fleming raised a pair of pince-nez to his eyes and peered at her closely.

Gates reached out as if to touch Ellie’s padded waist, then snatched his arm back against his side. His Adam’s apple bobbed against the knot in his narrow bow tie. “I’ve been in the field a good many years, but I never would have believed this if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

Fleming tugged at Gates’s sleeve, and the two men edged toward the far end of the office, where they began conversing in hushed tones.

Gates stared up at Fleming. “You aren’t seriously recommending we hire her?”

“Think about it. If she can fool us . . .”

“Even so, she’s untrained, untested. Using her could prove to be a complete disaster.”

“Or a stroke of genius.” Fleming looked at Ellie over Gates’s shoulder. “After seeing that transformation, I’m inclined to believe the latter.”

“Hoodwinking us for a matter of minutes is a far cry from carrying out a long-term masquerade.”

“Granted, but remember, we wouldn’t be sending her out there on her own.”

Gates responded with a grunt.

Fleming sighed, and they moved back toward the desk, where Ellie stood, barely able to breathe.

Fleming gestured toward her chair. “Please sit down, Mrs. . . . Miss . . . What
is
your name, anyway?”

Ellie unlocked her knees and lowered herself onto the padded seat as quickly as her cloth-wrapped limbs would permit. “My name is Elizabeth Moore, as I told you yesterday.” She allowed a smile to play across her lips.

A deep furrow ran from between Gates’s eyebrows to his hairline. “Young woman, this isn’t a game.”

“No, it isn’t.” Ellie snapped back to attention, chiding herself for her lapse when her goal hadn’t yet been reached. “You need the help, and I need the work. So what is your answer, gentlemen?”

Gates eyed her steadily. “Are you a believer, Miss Moore?”

The question caught Ellie off guard. “A believer in . . . ?”

“Are you a follower of Christ?”

Ellie’s mind whirled. What reason did he have for asking such a question? She had no way of knowing, but judging from his searching gaze, getting the job—or not—might hinge on her response. Lifting her chin, she forced herself to look him in the eye. “Of course.”

It wasn’t a lie—not really. She had believed . . . at one time. And she did own a Bible, handed down from her grandmother. She’d even read some of the underlined verses. Surely that counted for something.

Ellie’s heart sank when she saw a flicker of concern darken Gates’s face.

“In that case, you need to be aware that the job of an undercover operative, by its very nature, involves deception. As a believer, you may find that hard to live with.”

“That won’t be a problem.” The glib reply brought a sharp glance from Gates, so Ellie hastened to add, “I mean, I’ll approach it strictly as playing a role. Lavinia Stewart will be the one doing the deceiving, not I.”

Gates turned away and rubbed the back of his neck. “If you want my opinion, it’s a bad idea. We’re crazy if we go ahead with this.”

Fleming nodded slowly. “I see your point. I agree that we may be crazy if we do . . . but I’m certain that we’re fools if we don’t. I’m willing to take full responsibility if Pinkerton has any misgivings.”

A broad smile spread across his face, and he held out his hand. “Welcome aboard, Miss Moore.”

5

K
ANSAS
C
ITY,
M
ISSOURI

A
fter leaving all her worldly possessions—namely, her trunk and Magdalena’s costume hamper—in the charge of a pimply-faced baggage handler at Kansas City’s Union Depot, Ellie strode along Pershing Road in search of the Imperial Hotel and Norma Brooks, her soon-to-be partner. If all went according to plan, they would spend the afternoon going over information and getting their background stories squared away and leave on the evening train bound for Dodge City, Albuquerque, and points west.

Ellie pressed one hand against her waist to subdue her queasiness and felt her lips twist in a wry smile. Had she bitten off more than she could chew in presuming to play such an audacious role? She pushed the question away as soon as it arose. This job wasn’t a matter of choice, it was one of survival. She
had
to be able to pull it off. Besides, she wouldn’t be on her own. Her new partner would be on hand to help her make a success of the mission.

What would Norma Brooks be like? Fleming and Gates had given her the woman’s physical description—creamy skin, red hair, a distractingly pretty figure—but those details gave no clue as to the inner person, the woman Ellie would be working with daily until their investigation ended.

Ellie spotted the brightly painted sign for the Imperial across the street. She waited for a phaeton drawn by a striking pair of bays to pass by, then crossed the road, reveling in her freedom of movement when she stepped up onto the boardwalk unencumbered by Lavinia’s more limited gait. For this leg of the trip, she had chosen to travel as herself, knowing it would be the last time she’d be able to do so for some time. Once she boarded the train to Arizona, she would have to become Lavinia Stewart whenever she went out in public.

Ellie huffed out an impatient sniff. If only she’d heard about the investigation earlier, she might have been able to snag the part of the younger woman herself. Instead, she would have to spend her time in the public eye encased in the wig, padding, and cloth leg wrappings that made Lavinia so believable. Not to mention those cheek plumpers. She had to admit they did a first-rate job of changing the shape of her lower face, even adding a lovely hint of jowl along her jawline. But having the wax disks wedged inside her cheeks for hours at a time proved to be far more taxing than she had expected.

Ah, well. How many times had she heard Magdalena bemoaning the necessity of suffering for her art? Apparently it was Ellie’s turn now.

She pushed open the hotel door and stepped inside, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the relative dimness after the glare of the midday sun. As her vision focused, she scanned the lobby’s interior, looking for her partner. An elderly couple occupied a settee in front of the large window, and two businessmen conversed in hushed tones over in one corner. Ellie caught her breath and surveyed the room again, more slowly this time, but she saw no one who fit Norma Brooks’s description.
What now?

A balding man peered at her over his pince-nez from behind the L-shaped front desk. Ellie smiled at him, then strolled over to a grouping of overstuffed chairs and perched on the edge of one that faced the doorway, trying to look as though she had every right to be there. Her heart beat double time, and her toes echoed the rhythm against the Oriental rug. Where was Norma?

Avoiding the desk clerk’s gaze, Ellie opened her reticule and pulled out several folded papers, the notes she had scribbled during her all-too-brief training session at the Pinkerton office. She could use this time to refresh her memory of her mentors’ rapid-fire instructions and be ready to fill Norma in on the details when she arrived.

She unfolded the papers and, smoothing them against her knee, reviewed her notes. According to the Pinkertons, several factions existed in Pickford—mine owners, saloonkeepers, plus the usual assortment of businessmen and tradespeople.

“Don’t rely on outward appearances. There’s no telling who might be involved. Under no circumstances are you to reveal your true identity or your connection with this agency to anyone in Pickford.”

Ellie could almost hear Fleming’s dry tone as she read the inked words on the page.
“We have no idea who is behind these thefts, so trust no one, not even the miners who asked for our help.”

When Ellie looked at him in astonishment, he’d added,
“It wouldn’t be the first time a miscreant has attempted to divert suspicion from himself by calling us in.”

Ellie frowned and tucked that snippet of information away in her memory. She would ask Norma for clarification on this point. Being an experienced investigator, her partner would surely understand the behavior of the criminal element.

The desk clerk polished his pince-nez with his handkerchief, then set them back on his nose again, never taking his gaze off Ellie. Pushing herself farther back in the seat of the chair, Ellie ignored him as she folded the papers and placed them back inside her reticule. She lifted her head at the sound of footsteps coming down the stairway adjacent to the front desk and swung around to see who was descending.

A stocky blond woman who looked to be in her midforties stepped off the bottom stair of the stairway leading to the hotel rooms and crossed the lobby with determined strides, barely slowing when she pushed open the heavy door and went outside. Ellie let out her breath in a disappointed sigh and slumped against the chair back. Even if her hair had been as red as a strawberry, Ellie would never have suspected the other woman of being Norma Brooks. There had been something in Gates’s voice when he spoke of the senior operative, a tone that made Ellie feel sure Norma was a highly attractive woman.

Besides, she must be relatively young, probably not far from Ellie’s own age, since the Pinkertons had been looking for a woman of Lavinia Stewart’s advancing years to play the role of her aunt . . . and to be by far the less actively involved investigator of the team. Ellie pressed her lips together, remembering the sting she felt when the men told her the role would be primarily a matter of window dressing, giving Norma a necessary chaperone. On the other hand, they also implied that Ellie stood a good chance of future employment with them if she proved herself by learning the ropes quickly.

She needed to look on the bright side and view her role as something like being an understudy, learning the lead character’s lines and stage business while carrying on a minor role of her own. Frustrating for the moment, but with the possibility of bigger opportunities to come. She would fix her hopes on that consolation.

The door to the street swung open, and an attractive young couple strolled into the lobby. The dark-haired man was handsome enough, but Ellie’s gaze—like that of every other person in the room—was drawn to his dazzling companion. Ellie realized her jaw was sagging and snapped her lips shut.
Could this be Norma?
The Pinkertons had led her to believe she’d be meeting a stunning redhead, but she hadn’t expected anything like this gorgeous creature with her blooming cheeks and air of vitality.

With a show of reluctance, the man moved to one side and stood near the coatrack while the woman stepped forward, glancing from face to face as though searching for someone.

Searching for her! Scrambling to her feet, Ellie tried to collect her wits. This was no time to demonstrate her lack of experience. Plucking up her courage, she approached the other woman and offered a polite smile. “Excuse me. Are you Miss Brooks?”

The exquisite redhead blinked twice before an amused expression spread across her features. “Don’t tell me you’re my
aunt
.”

So it
was
Norma. Ellie tried to match the other woman’s easy grin in spite of her pounding heart. “I’m Ellie Moore, at least I am for the moment. But by the time we board the train this evening, you’ll be traveling with your aunt, Lavinia Stewart.”

“Well, well, well.” Norma surveyed Ellie with a long, appraising look, then nodded. “You aren’t at all what I expected, but I know Fleming and Gates well enough to be sure they wouldn’t send along someone they didn’t feel could do the job.”