A Match of Wits (19 page)

Three hours later, Zayne definitely doubted Theodore’s abilities. They’d traveled to the shirtwaist factory, which had been, surprisingly enough, still operating even though the hour had grown late. Waiting in the carriage while Theodore and Francis ventured inside, Zayne soon found himself disappointed when Theodore climbed back in, stating that no one had noticed anyone unfamiliar moseying around the factory that day. The good news was that Theodore had been able to track down the owner of the factory. He’d learned the previous owner had recently died, which was wonderful news, if one believed that the dead owner had been behind the threats to Agatha. But this was Agatha, and nothing was ever that easy in regard to her, so most likely her nemesis was probably still out there, but at least they could cross one man off the list.

After the shirtwaist factory, they’d traveled through the tenement slums but had no luck, which was why they were currently sitting in a derelict pub, nursing warm ale while trying to come up with another plan.

“They might have gone to the brothels,” Francis said as he took a gulp of ale and grimaced before he set the tankard back on the table.

“They wouldn’t go there dressed as gentlemen,” Zayne argued. “Even they’d realize some of the ladies would try to proposition them.”

Theodore smiled. “If that were to happen, you know Agatha would write about it in her next article, pointing
out something like how deplorable the lives are of working women since they’re forced to give attention to questionable men.”

He leaned back in his seat. “Unfortunately, given that Agatha does have a strange compulsion to visit brothels and write stories about them, I can’t discount that idea, which means we should go talk to Dot. She might be able to narrow down which brothels we should visit.”

“Dot’s still in the city?” Zayne asked.

“She’s working at the Wild Rose,” Theodore said. “Much to my surprise, she’s continued to stay off the streets, but she still keeps abreast of the latest scandals brewing.”

Francis rose to his feet and fished some coins out of his pocket, laying them on the table. “I suppose that’s our only option at this point.” He looked at Zayne. “I can go it alone if you’re getting tired. After all, you did have a troubling encounter with Matilda, and I’m certain you’re a little sore. I know I’m feeling the effects of landing on Agatha’s bathroom floor.”

Not really caring to revisit the whole bathroom episode again, Zayne was surprised at what came out of his mouth next. “You didn’t actually see much of her, did you—while she was in the bath, that is?”

Francis winked. “She has lovely skin, and honestly, I suppose if you get tempted to conjure up another one of those lists with eligible gentlemen on it, you might as well add me to the top.” He smiled a very wide smile. “As you can see, I have rather nice teeth.”

“Stop baiting him,” Theodore said, rising to his feet.

Blinking far too innocent eyes, Francis shrugged. “I can’t seem to help myself, but I’d stop if Zayne would simply admit his true feelings for Agatha.”

“I did admit my feelings. I admitted that I was fond of her, which translates into I like her.”

“But why are you fond of her?” Francis pressed.

Considering the question, Zayne tilted his head. “She’s very amusing, very witty.”

Francis’s lips quirked. “Perhaps that’s why Agatha turned you down. I imagine she’s looking for a gentleman who shares those same attributes, but you, my friend, are less than amusing at the moment, and in fact, I’d go so far as to claim you’re completely witless.”

“Really, Francis, now isn’t exactly the time to trade insults, with poor witless Zayne—although that was an excellent point.” Theodore reached out a hand and helped Zayne to his feet, giving him a pat on the back even as he grinned. “You set yourself up for that one, my friend, but we really do need to get on our way. The Wild Rose isn’t far from here, only about a block if we cut through the alley, but do you want me to summon the carriage?”

“I think I can make it a block, but . . . isn’t that opium den we visited a few years ago right around the Wild Rose as well? Maybe Agatha went there in search of more information. I don’t recall her ever finishing that story she was writing about the place.”

“She finished it after you left and even won an award for it. She’s very talented at what she does, even though we sometimes forget that because of all her shenanigans.”

A shock of something vastly uncomfortable settled over him. Agatha
was
incredibly talented, but he
had
forgotten that, couldn’t even recall the last time he’d read one of her articles or even asked her about what she was writing.

She’d been responsible, in her bossy and demanding way, for getting him back to the city, something that had changed
his life completely around, and yet . . . all he’d managed to do for her was insult her.

“Let’s use the back door,” Theodore said, pulling him from his thoughts, although different thoughts came flinging right back to mind after he walked out of the pub and began to follow Theodore and Francis through a rubbish-strewn alley.

It was little wonder she was upset with him.

He’d completely forgotten who she was.

He’d blithely gone about trying to organize her life, when in reality, even though she was constantly getting herself into tricky situations, she was perfectly capable of getting herself out of them.

She was a proud, independent lady of no small success, and yet, he’d been treating her as if she were some fragile young miss in desperate need of his help.

He’d done her a grave disservice and knew in that moment he needed to make amends. Not so that he could convince her to marry him but so that she’d know he’d been foolish about the whole matter, and perhaps they could agree to be friends once again.

He didn’t want to lose her friendship, but how was he to proceed forward?

She was obviously miffed with him, and when Agatha was miffed it was pointless to try reasoning with her, but . . . she wasn’t one to hold a grudge.

“Ah, Zayne, have you decided you don’t want to come with us to this pub?”

Zayne looked up, realizing that while he’d been lost in thought, Theodore and Frances had reached the pub, but he’d walked right past them. Walking back to where they were waiting for him, he moved through the door Francis was holding open. His eyes barely had time to adjust to the dimness of the
pub before a woman with brassy dyed hair and a huge smile on her face sidled up next to him and sent him a saucy wink.

“Mr. Beckett, how absolutely delicious to find you back in town,” Dot, a woman he’d met numerous times in the past—mostly when he’d been in Agatha’s company—purred. She leaned closer to him, prompting him to try and step back, but his crutches seemed to be stuck to the sticky floor. Before he could so much as blink, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled his head closer, and began kissing his entire face.

Every muscle in his body froze, and he had no idea what to do, but a loud grunt sounded right behind him, causing Dot to pause mid-kiss.

“That will be quite enough of that business.”

Dot laughed and released him, just as he spotted a short gentleman with an abundant amount of whiskers attached to his face, a gentleman who just happened to go by the name of
Agatha
.

C
onsidering she’d made the firm decision she was done with Zayne forever, Agatha was amazed by how much fury was currently sizzling through her body as she watched Dot reach up and plant another kiss on Zayne’s cheek.

She wasn’t quite certain whom she was more furious with, though—Dot, for being Dot, or Zayne, for doing absolutely nothing to discourage the woman.

Opening her mouth, to say . . . what, she really had no idea, she managed to get out, “This is not remotely appropriate . . .” before Dot laughed again, patted Zayne’s face, and strangely enough, grabbed one of his crutches away from him. Tucking herself under his arm where his crutch had recently been, she grinned, looking completely delighted with herself.

“How silly of me to greet you so enthusiastically, Mr. Beckett, when it’s clear what you really need is a good chair to sit in.”

Dot nodded to Agatha. “Shall I take him to our table, Stanley?” Not giving Agatha a chance to respond, Dot began wobbling away on incredibly high heels, leaving Zayne no choice
but to step forward as well since Dot seemed remarkably strong and determined to take him with her. He cast Agatha a look that clearly begged for help, right before Dot pushed him past some rowdy patrons and disappeared from view.

Stepping forward to go after them, she found herself pulled to an abrupt stop when someone grabbed hold of her arm.

“Don’t even think about it,
Stanley
.”

Lifting her gaze, she found Francis glaring back at her, with Theodore glaring in exactly the same way over Francis’s shoulder. She summoned up a smile. “Fancy meeting the two of you here—and Zayne, of course. But, ah, speaking of Zayne, I should probably go check on him.”

“Not before you explain what you’re doing here,” Francis said, taking a much firmer grip on her arm than was strictly necessary.

She tried to shake him off. “Zayne doesn’t know how to handle Dot.”

“Agreed, but I need explanations before you begin hovering over the man, which I know you’ll do if only to escape my irritation with you.”

“I wasn’t planning on hovering.”

“Of course you weren’t,” Francis said before he surprised her by releasing his hold on her, only to pat her arm a second later. “But that has nothing to do with why you left the house without me.”

“I needed some air.”

“Was there something wrong with the air in the back garden—you know, the garden with the high walls that keep you reasonably safe?”

“I’m sure the air was fine back there, but . . . Oh, very well, if you must know, there’s a small matter of business I needed to attend to, a matter that will finally allow me some closure.”

“Should I assume you thought I’d stand in the way of this closure?”

“Since I knew I’d have to travel to disreputable places in order to find the answers I need, yes, I thought you would stop me from coming out tonight.”

Francis frowned. “My job is, first and foremost, to keep you safe, but I’m not unreasonable, Agatha, nor would I have balked too much about escorting you here tonight. You’ve become a friend of sorts to me, and while it is my duty to keep you alive, I truly don’t want to see you unhappy. I can protect you, but you have to let me know your plans.”

Agatha blinked. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I was about to ask that very question,” Theodore said, stepping around Francis even as he began to scowl at her. “Francis might be willing to appease your every whim at the moment, my dear, which is rather odd, but believe me, I’m not. I expect you to promise me here and now that there’ll be no more of this type of business until we figure out who is trying to kill you.”

“I’m not promising you any such thing.”

Theodore stiffened, but before he could argue, Dot teetered back up to them, sent Theodore a smile, and set her sights on Francis.

“Mr. Blackheart, it’s been far too long since I’ve seen your handsome face,” Dot breathed before she launched herself at him and attached her lips to his.

Feeling strangely mollified by the sight of Dot accosting a gentleman other than Zayne, Agatha took a step forward to give Francis some assistance. She stopped when he managed to break away from the now pouting woman and held her at arms’ length. “Get ahold of yourself, Dot,” he growled.

“Now, now,” Dot crooned with a waggle of her fingers,
“there’s no need to get stuffy. I was only welcoming you home. Mr. Beckett didn’t cause such a fuss.”

“Yes, well, Zayne gets a bit bemused when it comes to dealing with ladies, especially unconventional ones, and by the look on his face when you led him away, he appeared to be in shock.”

Even though she was exceedingly annoyed with Zayne, she couldn’t help grinning just a little over Francis’s comment. Zayne really did seem to be bemused by ladies, herself included, but . . . No, she was not going to allow her thoughts to travel in that direction, because then she’d start excusing his behavior. He’d broken her heart too many times now, and she’d vowed that she wasn’t going to allow him an opportunity to ever do that again, but he was . . .

Drusilla suddenly brushed past her, interrupting the silent lecture Agatha had been giving herself. Considering her friend was currently sporting elongated mutton chops on her delicate face, she made a rather intimidating picture as she drew herself up and glared at Dot.

“While I certainly understand that your past occasionally comes back to haunt you, Dot,” Drusilla began, “we’re in the midst of a business meeting. Since it now appears as if our other business associates, if you will, have decided to join us, you’re going to have to stop throwing yourself at them so we can continue on with . . . business. If you don’t, I’ll go elsewhere for information and you won’t see a penny of the money I promised you.”

“Jealousy is unbecoming in a woman,” Dot said with a sniff before she sent Francis a wink, blew a kiss to Theodore, and sashayed her way back to where she’d apparently stashed Zayne.

“What do you think she meant by that?” Francis asked to no one in particular.

Agatha was certain Dot had noticed the clear temper in Drusilla’s eyes, brought on no doubt by witnessing Dot launching herself at Francis. But, since this was hardly the time or place to delve into any type of matchmaking, she simply shrugged. “It’s Dot. Who knows what she means by most of the things she says.”

“She
is
a character,” Theodore said before he gestured forward with his hand. “Shall we go join her at the table and continue on with whatever business the three of you are conducting?”

“You’re not going to force me out of here?”

“There’s no need for such dramatics, Agatha. Because you’re here, and there’s apparently a reason for that, I’m going to forget that you caused us no small amount of anxiety tonight, but do know that I’m not exactly happy with you.”

“I’m not exactly happy with you either, Theodore, especially since you keep calling me Agatha when I’m supposed to be Stanley—and Drusilla’s Mort.”

“You look nothing like a Stanley,” Theodore said before he took her arm, which caused her to roll her eyes and send that arm a pointed look.

“Oh, right.” Theodore grinned and dropped his hold on her, although he kept remarkably close to her as they made their way through the pub. Drusilla followed with Francis, mutters of
jealousy
and
crazy
ladies
floating between them.

They reached a back table, where Dot was already sitting with Zayne. Agatha took the farthest seat away from them, waiting until everyone sat down before she nodded to Dot. “Why don’t you start back at the beginning so everyone will know what we’re talking about?”

Dot leaned forward, although she trailed a finger down Zayne’s arm as she did so. Taking that finger and using it
to stir the drink she had in front of her, she smiled. “Well, to catch everyone up, Stanley and Mort approached me tonight, revealed their true identities— although I’d recognized
Stanley
straight away—and told me they were interested in learning about three ladies—Mary, Jessie, and Hannah—as well as another matter that I’ll tell you about later.” She paused and took a sip of her drink. “Fortunately for them, and for me since they said they’d pay for good information, I’m acquainted with those women.”

“The two of you are trying to track down Mary and her girls?” Zayne asked, shooting a glare Agatha’s way, which she staunchly ignored.

“Continue, Dot, if you please,” she said.

Dot smiled. “Thank you. As I have just recently told Mort and Stanley, Mary’s a hired assassin.”

Silence settled over the table, and then Theodore leaned forward. “There’s no talk on the streets about an assassin by the name of Mary.”

“’Course there’s not. She’s not from around here, and the only reason I know of her and her girls is because she hid out a few years ago at a brothel I used to work in. I was actually surprised she gave her real name to all of you out in Colorado, but I imagine she must have done so because she didn’t think any of you were going to live to tell the tale.”

“And you’re sure she gets paid to kill people?” Theodore pressed.

“From what I remember, yes, but I have to wonder how good she is at her job since Stanley over there is still alive, even though she’s run into Mary twice.”

“That’s a reassuring thought,” Francis muttered.

“Do you know where she is now?” Theodore asked.

“No, but I’ll ask around. If I were to hazard a guess though,
she’s probably long gone. I heard about the ruckus at B. Altman’s, and since what happened is all over town, including that bit about the pig, I would think Mary and her girls wouldn’t stick around. It’ll be too dangerous for them to move throughout the city.”

“But they won’t get paid if they don’t finish their job,” Theodore said slowly.

“Excellent observation, Mr. Wilder.” Dot winked at Theodore. “That must be why you’re such a sought-after investigator.”

“I must be losing my touch, because if I’d simply checked in with you sooner, I would’ve discovered more information than I’ve uncovered in months.”

“I do tend to have a mountain of information at my fingertips, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been awfully neglectful of late, but I suppose that’s due to your delightful Arabella’s condition.” Dot winked again. “Do make certain you give Arabella my regards. I’m in the midst of knitting a precious baby blanket for her, but that’s supposed to be a surprise, so just keep that to yourself.”

Agatha leaned across Drusilla, who’d taken the seat right next to her. “The image of you knitting, Dot, is one I truly never imagined, but getting back to the business at hand, would you have any idea who might have hired these women to kill me?”

“I’m afraid there are numerous people in the city right now who might want to see you dead, darling, what with all those brilliant yet all too truthful articles you write,” Dot said. “Even though you write under a man’s name, I’m afraid people have made it their business to discover your true identity.” She smiled. “I’ve enjoyed everything you’ve written and really must thank you for bringing to light all the injustices we of the unfortunate class suffer.”

“You’ve read my articles?”

Dot’s smile disappeared in a flash. “I do read.” Reaching across the table, she patted Agatha’s hand. “The article you did about women walking the streets in order to put food on the table is what helped me turn my back on that life. You pointed out, at least to me, that there was a better way, and while working in a pub is still somewhat sketchy, it’s more pleasant than my other life. You also helped me realize that I’m not alone in this world, and you did so without preaching. You did it in a way that allowed me to reach out to God through that delightful Reverend Fraser.

“Although I readily admit I’m still a bit of a sinner at times, I’m growing. And for that, you have my thanks.” Dot smiled once again. “I believe, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, that you’ve been given a gift from God for the written word, and I hope you remember that, even when you’re faced with people wanting you dead.”

Agatha’s vision blurred as Dot’s words sunk in. She’d always hoped that her articles would help someone, somewhere, and evidently they had. Wiping eyes that were now leaking, she let out a sniff, which had Dot rolling her eyes.

“Don’t get all weepy on me or I’ll lose respect for you,” Dot said, although she whipped a handkerchief out of the bodice of her dress and passed it over.

Dabbing her eyes with it, Agatha looked up and found Zayne watching her with an expression of complete understanding on his face, that expression making her eyes well up again.

He’d always understood her, but it had been made all too clear that he wasn’t ready for the type of commitment she longed from him, even if he had asked her in a peculiar sort of way to marry him.

Tearing her gaze from his, she looked around the table. “Well, I suppose we’ve made some progress here tonight, at least as pertains to Mary and her girls.”

“If she’s truly an assassin, you’re in more danger than we imagined,” Theodore said.

“As Dot said, it’s highly unlikely she’s still in the city.”

“As Theodore mentioned, assassins don’t get paid until they complete the job,” Francis countered, catching her eye. “You’ll have to leave the city.”