The Detective's Dilemma (14 page)

“Thank you for helping us.”

Mrs. Winthrop gave a bow of the head that hearkened back to her usual gracious ladylike manner that she used when pleased with the world. That was fast, Julianna thought, relieved.

They climbed into a larger carriage and made their way through crowded streets of stop-and-start traffic. On the box in front of them, the driver yelled at a horseback rider using such foul language, Julianna wanted to laugh. Mrs. Winthrop didn’t appear to notice, thank goodness.

“The one with shutters,” Mrs. Winthrop said suddenly. “It’s white and brown and has shutters like a house on the shore.”

Harriet tapped the roof and relayed the directions. The carriage lurched and took off again.

“Now let’s pray he’ll be home,” Julianna said as Harriet resettled across from the ladies.

She reflected that they looked as if they gathered collections for a good cause, perhaps a lady’s relief society for fallen women, and she represented the poor sinful sufferer.

An actual butler answered the door, and she was impressed by the wide hall, the polished wood floor, the walls with silver and gold stencils and a huge mirror in a carved frame. “Very chic,” Mrs. Winthrop said with approval. “John said he liked this decoration.”

“This man is friends with your husband?” Julianna asked with some trepidation. Perhaps this was a very bad idea after all.

They were shown into a drawing room. Thick red velvet curtains hid the gloomy light outside. Brass wall sconces matched a chandelier that lit the room quite well.

“His gas bill must be enormous,” Mrs. Winthrop said.

A tall young man came in the room. He wore a bottle-green jacket and trousers and a gold vest. He had dark wild hair and a dimpled chin.

“Mrs. Winthrop?” He sounded as if he’d spotted an odd animal in his drawing room, not a respectable middle-aged matron.

“I have a matter of great urgency to discuss with you,” Mrs. Winthrop said.

“Please sit. Perhaps your maids would care to—”

Mother Winthrop actually interrupted him. “This is my daughter-in-law, Mrs. James Winthrop.”

“Ah. I beg your pardon.” He bowed to Julianna. His distracted, startled air had vanished, and he’d become a polished sort of gentleman. “I’m sorry for your loss. I never had the pleasure of meeting your husband.” He waved a hand at the chairs. “Please sit and tell me what I might do for you.”

Harriet retreated to a spot near the wall, and Julianna was just as glad he hadn’t dismissed her. She wanted to get moving again, find answers before the workday was over, and she didn’t want to have to track the maid in the bowels of the house. Besides, it was past time the maid heard the story.

Mrs. Winthrop had lost her momentum and had turned back into her usual pale self. “Julianna, you must tell him. I’m afraid I’ll… I’ll… I don’t think I can.”

Julianna was glad she had come along. Mrs. Winthrop seemed to teeter on the edge of tears again.

“We have come at the suggestion of Mr. Caleb Walker.”

Sawyer, who’d begun to sit, jumped up from his chair as if it had been set on fire. “What does that b—what does he want? Too cowardly to come on his own, I see?” He thumped his toe down next to his chair, and Julianna understood a moment later that he’d rung a bell on the floor under the carpet, because a manservant entered the room a moment later. “You must excuse me, ladies. I have more work to do. Franklin will see you out.”

Mrs. Winthrop gaped at him and didn’t say anything.

“No. We can’t go. It’s a matter of life and death. And not just his. We need you to listen.” For once, Julianna didn’t try to hold back her emotion. Let him see her as a hysterical woman. Odd how allowing herself to raise her voice made her feel strong rather than out of control. Her mother-in-law got into the spirit of the moment by beginning to weep again. He’d have to listen.

Julianna said, “Mr. Walker seemed certain that you might wish him ill, but you don’t wish him dead.”

“Did he also tell you that he arrested me?”

“He was acting under orders. He was only a patrolman then. He…he hated that action. He said you are powerful and not corrupt, and we need a man like that to help us.” She made up some of the speech to fit the few words Walker had given her, but they felt like truth enough. She’d figured out Detective Walker hated corruption even as he played his role in it.

“All right.” He sat again and gave her the smallest and briefest of smiles. “I hear that name and tend to respond violently. Is he a friend of yours?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer and was surprised when Mrs. Winthrop spoke up. “We don’t know him well, but he is helping my dear Julianna, as am I, and he suggested you might be able to come to our aid.”

“Go on,” he said.

And now they came to the part that seemed more difficult to approach.

“You said it was a matter of life and death. What did you mean?”

Julianna cleared her throat. “My father-in-law, and this lady’s husband, Mr. Winthrop—you know him…” She tried to think of how to phrase the truth so he’d believe it.

After she trailed off, he said, “Yes, of course. I’ve been a guest in their home, and Mrs. Winthrop can tell you that they have been here.”

“We need help to stop him.”

He looked puzzled. “Excuse me? Stop him doing what?”

Mother Winthrop spoke up again. “Nearly everything he does.” She blinked rapidly and drew in a ragged breath. Oh dear, Julianna thought. But perhaps the lady had cried enough, because she managed to speak again. “My husband is a cruel man.”

“You must speak to the police. Walker, for instance.” His lip curled as he said the name.

“My husband has the police…oh, what was that phrase? He has them in his pocket.” Mrs. Winthrop smiled a little—obviously proud she’d managed the slang. “My husband is quite wealthy, and he uses his money to buy all sorts of services.”

“Why do you come to me?” His scowl reminded Julianna of Caleb.

She said, “Because we need a gentleman with money and influence outside the police force who won’t be bullied and isn’t corrupt. Mr. Walker said you were the best candidate.”

“I find it hard to believe he’d say such a thing.”

“Why would we lie?”

“I have no notion. It could be some sort of trap.”

Mrs. Winthrop put her hand to her mouth. “Mr. Sawyer, I have confessed to you that my husband is a brute and a-a criminal, and you accuse me of lying? This is very hard for me, and I dislike it intensely.”

True, her voice cracked, and her words came out sounding as complaining as usual, but somehow Mrs. Winthrop had gained strength. Julianna smiled at her.

The lady drew in a long breath and, incredibly, began to describe the way her husband sometimes hit her. When Mrs. Winthrop’s voice faltered, she gazed at Julianna, who jumped in with the fact that she felt concern for her child’s safety in the hands of Mr. Winthrop.

“I have to agree,” her mother-in-law choked out. “He was dreadful to our only son, and…and I don’t see that he’s changed.”

Harriet, who stood in the background, had bright interested eyes as usual, but her brows were high with obvious amazement.
Did you know?
Julianna mouthed the words at her.

The maid gave a tiny shake of the head.

“This is a terrible account, but what do you want me to do?” Mr. Sawyer asked, still impatient.

Mrs. Winthrop’s eyes went wide. “Ah. I don’t precisely know.”

Julianna said, “Mr. Winthrop is using corrupt police officers to try to take my son away.”

“Men like my old friend Walker?” Sawyer’s contempt was obvious.

Julianna paid no attention to the question. “Mr. Walker isn’t sure about which members of his own department are corrupt—at least he didn’t give us names.”

Sawyer muttered something about how he
should
know. Julianna waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “Go on,” he said. “Do you have a plan?”

“I think perhaps we need to gather the evidence about Mr. Winthrop that we need and talk to a lawyer. Do you know any that are free from the taint of corruption?”

“Perhaps. Or a reporter, although I don’t know any. Caleb was the one who enjoyed low company, mostly at the
Tribune
.” He sounded nostalgic rather than sneering. That had to be good.

Julianna said, “He also had the idea of speaking to the doctors who treated my late husband when he was a child, and perhaps wringing a confession of some sort from them.”

“For what? You said Mr. Winthrop is cruel, but obviously he hides it.” He glanced at Harriet. “You’re Mrs. John Winthrop’s maid, are you not?”

Harriet nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“I can see you’re surprised by these stories. If a servant didn’t witness abuse, what could the doctors tell any reporter about the late Mr. James?”

Mrs. Winthrop gulped but then shocked Julianna by giving a list of scars on James’s arms and legs.

When she finished, Julianna added, “He had other marks that might have been inflicted after you last saw his limbs.” She swallowed the nausea. God above, his mother had seen the wounds, which meant they might have been inflicted before Peter could dress and bathe himself. At what age had the torture started? Why hadn’t Mrs. Winthrop done more to stop it? But Julianna must focus on the present—and Peter.

“If we can convince the doctor to recant his diagnosis of skin disease, perhaps by threatening him with…with an article.” Julianna’s words came in a rush. “Then we’d have something to go to the authorities with. Although we don’t know which authorities are trustworthy and we hoped you do. Know I mean.”

“And Walker didn’t give you names?”

“None.”
The idiot,
she silently added.

Sawyer ran two fingers down his neatly trimmed mustache. “I think it would be best if I go meet with Walker. He sent you to fetch me because he knew I’d toss him out on his— I wouldn’t agree to see him. But it is clear you ladies are in great distress, and I cannot ignore your request for my help.” His smile to Mrs. Winthrop was sweet, but not as attractive as Mr. Walker’s. “I find it appalling that he would employ two ladies to run his errands.”

Not to mention a boot black. “Hardly his errand—we come on our own behalf, as you say. On behalf of my innocent little boy,” Julianna added, in case he had a fondness for children.

“Still, a gentleman would want to protect you, not send you out seeking assistance on your own.”

Of course, Walker actually hadn’t sent her.

Mr. Sawyer folded his arms and glanced at the door. “I will go order a bite to eat—”

“Oh dear, we don’t want to be a bother. Thank you,” said Mrs. Winthrop, who had drifted back to frailty again—no doubt grateful to shove the whole matter into the hands of a competent male.

“It’s no bother at all, and then we’ll go… Where was it you said Walker waited?” He gazed earnestly at Mrs. Winthrop.

“A bookstore,” she said faintly. “I can’t recall the name. Today has been harrowing. Gilbys? No, not that.”

Julianna opened her mouth to speak but changed her mind. Mr. Sawyer’s interest suddenly struck her as too sharp. His eyes glinted as if he’d developed a fever.

“Do excuse me a moment, ladies,” he said. “I shall return momentarily. Shall we have some coffee? Tea?”

He left the room at a fast pace, without waiting for an answer—but despite his hurry, he eased the door shut behind himself, almost silently, as if hoping they wouldn’t notice he closed them in.

The man was either excited or a lunatic. Julianna would bet it was the first. Maybe he wanted to pass a message along to someone without being overheard, like the police—and perhaps a special corrupt pocket of the force.

Julianna paced the large sitting room while they waited. She tried the door. At least that remained unlocked.

When Mr. Sawyer returned a few minutes later, she addressed him before he’d taken two steps into the room. “We must be on our way. Would you care to accompany us?”

He glanced at the ornate clock on the mantel and then out the window. Oh dear, he was a man waiting for help to arrive.

“But, dear, he ordered food. I’m famished.” Mrs. Winthrop looked over at Harriet as if the maid would vouch for her hunger.

Julianna supposed it was better to keep Mr. Sawyer here rather than leading him to his prey. She wondered at her own protective feelings for Mr. Walker. The interesting change in her attitude had come even before the interlude at the apartment.

How long might she put off Mr. Sawyer? He watched them and glanced at the drawing room door as eagerly as a hunter who’d spotted prey.

“Gordon’s,” Mrs. Winthrop said, suddenly and triumphantly. “He’s waiting at Gordon’s Bookshop. That’s the name. Not so very far from my home.”

So much for the plan of stalling Mr. Sawyer.

“I beg your pardon again, ladies.” He walked toward the door, and Julianna immediately joined him.

“We’ll go there now,” she said firmly.

If she escaped to warn Caleb, that was good. Better still if she kept Mr. Sawyer in her sights—then she knew he wouldn’t be able to sneak off and send a message to anyone. He gave her a polite bow. “Just allow me to speak to my butler and countermand the order for food.”