Midnight Caller (Moonlight Romance) (7 page)

The fire had drawn many onlookers as if they had all been moths attracted to the flames. Men and women gawked at the burning structure, shaking their heads or covering their mouths. Next to a hanging, a fire was the best attraction to hit town. Policemen gathered to keep an eye on the crowd.

Frederick was captivated like the rest, watching the firemen fighting the flames. He’d prefer being a roustabout to a fireman any day. Not as dangerous. Fire reminded him of the work of the devil.

It hadn’t occurred to him he shouldn’t be hanging around until the man who had seen him earlier that night caught his eye. His nostrils flared and his face flushed, nearly matching his auburn hair in the darkness.

The stranger called a policeman over and the two of them took quick strides in his direction. The hair on Frederick’s arms stood straight on end. The serious lines in the policeman’s brow and around his mouth made Frederick’s toes curl.

What was wrong? If they had found out about the true nature of his moonlighting, he would be surrounded by a lynch mob, not a lone officer on a mission.

“What are you doing here, boy?” the officer demanded.

“Just watching the fire, sir. Like the rest.” His explanation did not satisfy the officer. The man tapped his fingers on his thigh silently asking for more information. “I’m headed back to the
Comet.
I’m a roustabout on the steamboat.”

The officer nodded. “Uh-huh.” He paused and indicated the man next to him. “Mr. Hawthorne here claims you were milling around the neighborhood earlier.”

“I was not milling about, sir.”

“Watch your tone, boy,” the officer said, his mossy-green eyes narrowing.

His body temperature soared bringing on an instant fever. His gut clenched. Couldn’t he defend himself? Frederick licked his lips. “I was here, sir. That is true. I was hired. I fixed Mrs. Bennett’s roof and did a few other odd jobs. She gave me a dollar.” He pulled the crumpled bill out of his coat pocket and showed the officer.

“How long were you there?”

Frederick’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He didn’t like this line of questioning. He scuffed his shoe on the street. “I’m not sure, sir. Several hours. Why? Is there a problem?”

The officer glanced back at the fire. “I would say that was a problem. Wouldn’t you, boy?” The growl in the officer’s voice made Frederick take a step back.

He gritted his teeth, silently reminding himself to calm down and watch his tongue. “It is unfortunate, yes.”

“Mr. Hawthorne claims he saw you set the fire.”

“What?” Frederick exclaimed. That was ridiculous. “If you talk to Mrs. Bennett, she will assure you that I was with her.” Frederick spoke the sentence in one breath, his words piling on top of one another. “You can see the repairs on the roof.”

The officer nodded. “We’ll get it all sorted out in the morning. Right now I’d like you to come with me.”

Frederick gulped the smoky air. Smothering tension pressed upon him and his lungs ached.

The officer was a wiry man of average height. All his muscles tightened and he straightened his posture to make himself taller, legs parted, hands itching to fold into fists. They both knew he wouldn’t be able to take him alone if Frederick didn’t cooperate. But running and being beaten into a bloody mess for his trouble would not help his case.

“Very well, sir,” Frederick said. “I will go with you. I am innocent. I have nothing to fear.”

The officer relaxed, the maliciousness in his eyes easing a fraction.

Frederick plastered his arms to his sides.
Please no restraints
. They brought back painful memories. Tears pricked his eyes as he remembered his sister chained and sold and then a few months later his mama.

The officer put a hand on his back and escorted him down the street. The knot in Frederick’s chest slowly unwound. Not posing a threat had advantages. But he was still headed to jail.

The officer opened an empty cell. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Frederick slumped onto the hard mattress along the far wall. His tall body did not fit well into the small space and he was forced to draw up his knees. He resisted a smart comment. The accommodations were far from comfortable.

He closed his eyes, the darkness soothing. For a moment he blocked out everything but Emma’s face, illuminated by lantern light—teasing him with her gentle smile.

“I’m making some coffee. Would you like some?” the officer called into the room.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” He might as well drink some coffee. He doubted he would get much sleep.

The officer handed him a cup of hot coffee through the bars. Frederick forced a smile. “What is the penalty for starting a fire?”

One of the officer’s eyebrows arched. “A few years hard labor, I reckon.”

Frederick frowned. Great. Well, it couldn’t be much worse than being a roustabout except for the same scenery and iron bars and chains.

“I thought you said you were innocent,” the officer said with a smug expression.

Frederick took another drink of coffee. Anger and fear wallowed in the pit of his stomach. “I am. But I have little faith in the courts.”

Dead silence.

Frederick steadied his breathing with great effort. The officer knew how it was. Colored people were falsely accused and convicted all the time.

He ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t imagine all those years without Emma. He’d die in prison overworked and unloved.

His head pounded as if he had been struck with a sledgehammer. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Thinking negative thoughts wasn’t going to help him one bit.

His mind snapped back to thinking about Emma. She was a bright spot in his life, a candle burning in a snowstorm. She was so unlike the other clients he had serviced. She didn’t order him around, didn’t put on airs, and act superior. She had made him a peach pie for God sakes.

She did more than treat him kindly, she did more than treat him with respect…she treated him like an equal. He warmed at the thought. Would he ever feel her arms around him again? He imagined her touch, recalled the scent of her hair. It would get him through the night.

Hopefully his situation wouldn’t look so dire when the sun rose. He couldn’t believe it. Emma held the key to his heart and the key to unlocking his cell.

She would soon discover he had been taken to jail. If an officer didn’t talk to her in the morning, she’d eventually wonder why he didn’t meet her that night as they had planned. Would she care he was locked up?

Yes, deep down he knew she would care. Not only because she missed his attention, but she wouldn’t want him wrongly accused and imprisoned.

She was tender and innocent. She still believed in right and wrong. It was a breath of fresh air to be with a woman not jaded or corrupted by society.

She was his only hope at freedom. The courts only put stock in what white people claimed. Would the testimony of the woman he loved be enough to save him? Sometimes it took more than words. Sometimes it took money. If circumstances were different and she had the means to pay the necessary people, perhaps she could secure his release.

He hated to put all that pressure on her. She was still fragile, barely out of mourning. She needed to keep her savings to support herself. Would she try to find a way to set him free?

Could she save him?

Emma heated the leftover coffee from last night and poured herself a cup. Sitting at the table, she cut herself a small piece of peach pie. It wasn’t a nutritious breakfast, but it was delicious. The flaky crust and sugary peaches made her mouth rejoice.

How many simple pleasures had she missed over the years? She was alone. No one was going to criticize her diet. She cut herself another small piece.

A knock at the door startled her. She didn’t get many visitors and certainly not at this early hour. She patted her hair it was probably a mess.

She opened the door. A police officer stood on her porch. Her heart tilted and her whole world felt off balance. Her vision grew fuzzy. She grabbed the door frame. Nails slid down the wood and she crumpled to the floor.

“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you all right?”

Emma blinked. The officer kneeled beside her, fanning her face. “Do I need to get the doctor?”

“No,” Emma said weakly. She sat up and the officer put a hand on her back. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see a police officer. The last time the police visited me they told me my husband had been killed.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t have dire news.” He helped her to her feet. “I just have a couple questions for you.”

Emma nodded. She had no idea what the questions would be concerning. After all, she had practically hid herself from society for a year and half.

The officer helped her to her feet. “Do you know a big colored man named Frederick?”

Why was he asking her that? Was Frederick in trouble? An image of his beautiful body swinging from a rope came to mind and she pushed it away.

“Yes, sir. But not very well.” She swirled her tongue in her mouth to generate saliva.

“He said he worked for you last night.”

“He fixed my barn roof. I held the lantern for him.”

“I see. Would you come to the police station with me and write a statement?”

“A statement? What is going on?”

“Did you hear about the fire over on Nelson Street last night?”

“No. But I did smell smoke when I went to bed.”

“A barn burned down. Mr. Hawthorne swears he saw this Frederick light the fire.”

“That is not true!”

The officer’s expression remained cold and indifferent. “Well, it will be his word against yours for the time being, ma’am. We are investigating.”

“Do you want to see the roof?” Emma asked, her voice louder than she intended.

“No need. I glanced at it before knocking. Please come down to the station with me, Mrs. Bennett. We are going to need your statement.”

“Yes, certainly. But…” She paused trying to find the right word. She couldn’t go with him immediately. “I have an errand to run, and then I’ll be right there.” Emma felt her anger rise at the caviler attitude of the policeman toward Frederick’s freedom. She had a feeling he wouldn’t care if Frederick was in jail forever.

The officer nodded. “That’s fine, ma’am. No rush. The man’s in a cell. I am sorry I startled you.” Emma forced herself to stay still as she watched the policeman leave. Then she sprang into action.

Emma’s mind raced. She changed into a more fashionable dress, repinned her hair, and hurried out the door. But she wasn’t going to the police station. She needed to talk to Mrs. Dimshire first. She arrived at Mrs. Dimshire’s elegant residence in record time and was shown into the parlor.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she waited. The poor woman was probably in the middle of her breakfast. She had explained to the maid that this was urgent.

Mrs. Dimshire strode into the room with quick but dignified steps. The woman never seemed flustered. “What is it, Mrs. Bennett? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She sounded concerned and not at all annoyed by the interruption.

Emma took a deep breath. She glanced around making sure none of the servants were nearby. “It is Frederick,” she whispered.

“Oh? That’s a fine name.” The lady leaned back a little and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Not what you expected?”

“No. Nothing like that. He was arrested last night. Falsely accused of starting a fire.”

“Oh my. Well, we can’t have our lover locked away for several years now, can we?”

Our
lover. Emma’s stomach knotted. She wanted Frederick all to herself.

Mrs. Dimshire smiled. “I will get my coat. This should only take a few minutes.” Confidence, power, grace, and feminine wiles accompanied her everywhere like a shadow. Emma didn’t doubt Mrs. Dimshire could persuade the police to release Frederick.

But could she talk some sense into Mr. Hawthorne? Had the man purposely accused Frederick or had it been random? Did he know more than he let on?

“Mr. Hawthorne was the one who claimed Frederick started the fire,” Emma explained on their way to the police station. “I’m afraid he knows about…”

Mrs. Dimshire’s eyebrows floated for a second before falling back in place. She patted Emma’s hand. “We will handle one crisis at a time.”

Emma walked into the police station and her heart froze, a thousand icy needles jabbing into her chest. Mr. Hawthorne sat at the small table in the office, legs crossed. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I just finished my statement,” he said. “We don’t want any more fires now, do we? You’re lucky he didn’t burn your house down. He has a history of reckless nighttime activities.” The look in his eyes carried more threat than his words.

She balled a hand in the folds of her dress. How could he say that with a straight face? Mrs. Dimshire stiffened, her mouth slightly parted. For once the old lady was shaken.

“I am here to write my statement,” Emma said, directing her speech to the officer. Ignoring Mr. Hawthorne seemed the best course of action. He was dangerous and she did not want to provoke him.

“Yes, ma’am,” the officer said. The officer walked from around his desk and over to Mr. Hawthorne. “I will take that paper if you are done, sir,” he said.

Mr. Hawthorne handed it to him. “I’m just doing my civic duty,” he said, grabbing his hat and heading for the door. “I’d watch what I decided to swear to if I were you, Mrs. Bennett.”

Her blood, already stewing, reached boiling point. The lid blew off the pot and she let her anger spill out, shredding every ounce of self-control. “Watch what I swear to! You wrote nothing but lies!” She breathed rapidly, her pulse working overtime to keep up.

Mr. Hawthorne didn’t even flinch. He acted completely unaffected as if he had gone temporarily deaf and hadn’t heard her. She seethed. Hank would have been flabbergasted and soundly chastised her. She wanted Mr. Hawthorne to yell. Her hackles were up ready for a fight. He walked out the door, hat in his hand, not even offering another word.

“The gall of that man,” she said in a huff. He’d probably set the fire himself.