The Detective's Dilemma (13 page)

She leaned her head back on the cushions and what felt like the corner of a book. Uncomfortable but not enough to make her reach up and shift the book. Her eyes closed. She must listen to her mother-in-law; this would be key. But the sheer emotional exhaustion of the day, not to mention tramping aimlessly about the city, made it impossible for her to concentrate. She couldn’t even force her eyes back open.

He would take notes and show them to her later. She must trust someone. She must rest. She must not think about what she and Caleb had done together.

“That’s right, Mrs. Winthrop. You can trust me,” he told her. Oh, he was speaking to her mother-in-law, not Julianna. “I want to help.”

He’d said he’d started as an idealist. She let that comfort her as she let go. Only a few moments of rest…and then she woke to the sound of her mother-in-law sobbing. Again.

Chapter Seven

He supposed spilling years of secrets would be painful, but really. The lady would mummify herself if she kept spilling that many tears. She’d turn into a dry husk.

He nodded to Mrs. Winthrop to show he listened, made sure to hold her gaze—and felt gratitude for that rounds sergeant from years ago who told him to turn himself into the criminal’s or witness’s friend.

He glanced over at Mrs. James Winthrop. Julianna. Eyes closed, mouth slightly open, the anger gone from her face, she looked several years younger. Her hair had given up and lay around her shoulders. She looked like dissipated elegance, the woman in bed after a long night of erotic…

He had to turn his attention back to Mrs. John W. Immediately. She poured out her own guilt, years of it piled up. He eventually cut through the anguished confessions. “But you never laid hands on your son. Your husband did, and so did this friend you told me about. Mr. Springfield? You witnessed these attacks?”

She nodded and, after more prodding, came up with dates she’d seen evidence of cruelty against her son. He tried out more names on her—crooked lawyers, crooked politicians, crooked anybody. Except for Gregory and Lesham, she hadn’t seen any of them in her house, and those two had visited only recently.

All right. What she’d told him was useful but not enough. A lawyer probably couldn’t make a connection between her awful husband and the men who held Caleb in their power.

Maybe the fact that Gregory had aided and abetted a man who delighted in cruelty would be enough to make hay? He doubted it.

He’d return to the task of helping Julianna and work on his own circumstances another day.

The crying started, and she began to describe the beatings she’d received, muffled accounts that he had trouble following. Walker wrote notes and nodded. Unfortunately, a man hitting his wife wouldn’t be enough to bring down Winthrop.

More stories poured out of her mouth, as if she vomited them up. Her husband had killed her small dog. He’d beaten a maid. And then the words slowed, and she spoke without jumbling words. All awful and none enough to tear down the man.

She began to describe schemes she’d overheard.

A wife wouldn’t testify against her husband, but he could certainly take these pages of notes and use them as a start for the way to bring down Mr. Winthrop, philanthropist and bully. Might public opinion be enough to destroy him with no need to bring up Julianna’s marriage?

“What?” He roused himself from plans of contacting his friend at the
Herald
to write a story. “What did you say?”

Mrs. Winthrop repeated, “His brother. He killed his brother. John ran him down with his carriage. He ran him down and then fled the scene.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there. It was an accident. I’m sure of that, so it was not the worst…” She shivered.

“But he didn’t tell anyone.”

“No one. Nor did I, until today.”

She had been so calm and now dissolved into tears again.

“So many secrets you’ve learned.” Julianna had awakened and gotten to her feet. She handed her mother-in-law another clean handkerchief. “You’re as eager as an anatomist’s resurrection man in a cemetery of shallow graves.”

He had to laugh. “By God, how do you know about such things? You make me sound like a ghoul.”

“I shouldn’t say such things. Not when you’re doing me a great service.”

He stared at her for a long moment, recalling someone else who’d called him ghoulish. Bruce kept coming to his mind today, perhaps because that man’s dearest wish—that Walker be drummed out of the force—was about to come true. But would Bruce want him dead or under arrest?

He hoped not. But Bruce might be just the man they required.

He began, “When I was young, I had a very good friend.”

She arched her brows. “How nice for you.”

“He came from a family like ours, except his didn’t lose everything. In fact, he is even wealthier today, despite the fact that he was arrested for embezzlement.” He stopped speaking, unsure of how to continue this recitation of failure.

“What does this have to do with Mother Winthrop or me? Or you, for that matter.”

Walker said, “I arrested him. I wasn’t the detective on the case, I was simply the uniform sent to do the ugly work. But he didn’t see it that way. He cursed me, my family. He always did have a way with insults, rather like you.”

“Did he hold a gun on you as well?”

“A gun?” Mrs. Winthrop stopped sniveling and looked at Julianna with astonishment. “You have a gun, Julianna?”

“There are no bullets.”

“Not anymore,” he said and enjoyed the scowl Julianna directed at him.

She said, “Go on, tell us about your cursing friend.”

“His name is Bruce Sawyer.”

“I know of Mr. Sawyer.” Mrs. Winthrop senior seemed to brighten. “That was quite a scandal more than six years ago, wasn’t it? He was found innocent.”

“Was he truly innocent?” Julianna sounded as if she’d take his word on it.

Walker shrugged. “I started to look into it after the trial, but then I realized I had to let go of the past. I had to let go of our friendship too. He’d turned into the most vengeful and unpleasant person I know and went out of his way to try to ruin my life. It wasn’t enough that my family had grown poor—”

“Did he do that?” The notion had never occurred to him, and he dismissed it. Bruce would never punish the innocent. “No. My own father managed to do that without outside help. But Bruce, my good friend, turned into the bitterest of enemies, and if we should see the other coming, we’d cross the street to avoid the confrontation. On good days.”

“What about bad days?”

“We once came to blows in a fistfight. No arrests that time,” he added.

“Sounds like you have a long list of enemies.”

“It sure does, doesn’t it? The difference is that Bruce is not involved in the sticky mess of politics and secrets.” Or so he hoped.

“Ah,” she said.

“Yeah, I hate the idea of approaching him,” Walker muttered. It made him feel sick to grovel with anyone. When they were young, Bruce had gone on and on about doing one’s duty even when it proved painful—so he should have been someone who understood.

Julianna leaned back and looked at Caleb’s frowning face. He did look more pale and unhappy than at any other time of this long day, including when Brennan first aimed a gun at him. She had a flash of heat as she recalled another moment, in Mrs. Calder’s apartment, the naked hunger in his eyes—lust for her. She hadn’t seen that look on any man’s face before.

“Animal appetites mean nothing once they are sated,”
her mother’s voice reminded her.
Save the admonitions for later
, she answered.

“Thank you,” she said aloud to Mr. Walker. Really, she did have trouble thinking of him as Caleb but she would try. “Thank you, Caleb.”

“What?”

“Thank you for doing something you hate in order to help me.”

“For once, I’m doing something because it’s right.”

“You don’t want me to give you credit?”

“I don’t deserve credit. When I do, I shall tap you on the shoulder and demand it.”

She laughed, and knew she’d laughed more with him than she had in months. And felt more than she ever had…in some places. Another flash of that heavy, interesting heat coursed through her body.

So many firsts today. First time taking a man prisoner; first time taking a man purely for pleasure. She bent her head when she felt her face grow hot.

“If I need to, I will contact Bruce. And perhaps we can talk to others. Is the doctor who examined James still alive?”

“I think he’s retired.”

“We need to track him down.”

Julianna nodded. Why hadn’t she thought of this? “If he remembered anything about the case, he’ll recall the wounds. They were memorable.”

Mother Winthrop gave a soft click in her throat but didn’t begin to cry. Instead, she raised her chin. “I shall talk to Mr. Sawyer. I have met him. I can make an appeal to him. Mr. Walker—you daren’t show your face on the street, you know. You ought not either, my dear Julianna.”

Caleb sighed and drank the rest of his coffee. “You’re right on both counts. I guess we’ll have to allow you and your maid to take care of our problems. I’ll ask Gordon if he’ll help, but I doubt he’ll leave the premises. Maybe he’ll let me take over for an hour or so.”

“No need for this fuss, perhaps. If I show my face again, Mr. Winthrop will be shown a liar.”

Caleb gave her a long steady gaze. “He probably wouldn’t mind if you’re found alive after all. They’ll concoct a good tale. However, if he or his horde or some of the ones associated with me find you first and discover you are unwilling to fall into his plans, then he won’t be a liar, not about your death.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mrs. Winthrop even as Julianna understood.

“You think he’d murder me just to make you look evil?”

“And to silence someone who might be working with me. Yes. I must see if Gordon will escort you to Sawyer’s house, Mrs. Winthrop. If you’ll pardon me, ladies?” He rose and left the apartment.

Caleb had been accused of Julianna’s murder. She should show that she was alive—and allow him to walk free again, or as free as a man like him could be.

This would be difficult. She didn’t want to allow the police to take her in for questioning, not when she had to meet Brennan and Peter in the morning or when she didn’t trust the policemen to keep her safe.

“By this time tomorrow, we shall have cleared up this mess.” She swallowed hard. “Mother Winthrop, you know there will be consequences.”

“I am not a child. I know.” She sounded querulous —and childlike.

Julianna had to make the offer, though she prayed Mrs. Winthrop would say no. “You should come live with me.”

“And that Brennan character?”

Julianna leaned back and studied Mother Winthrop’s scowl. “He and I are not intimate, ma’am. We are friends, and he is as good as a stepfather to Peter, but he and I…” Julianna shook her head and swallowed the rest of her explanation that she didn’t owe to anyone.

“No, of course not. I know about his preferences, and I can’t imagine how you countenance—”

Julianna cut her off. “Enough,” she said, and Mother Winthrop shrank back in her chair and held up the hand clutching the sodden handkerchief.

Julianna spoke more softly. “Let’s go as soon as we can to visit Mr. Walker’s friend and explain his situation.”

“But you must stay out of sight. We agreed on that.”

“I shan’t show my face on the street for long.”

They must leave before Caleb came back, because he’d try to stop her, and she didn’t want to fight with him anymore. She didn’t trust her mother-in-law with Mr. Walker’s interests or her own, for that matter.

As she led her mother-in-law down the stairs, her heart beat faster, and she understood another reason she was fleeing. She must escape before she succumbed to his appeal. Left alone in the upstairs apartment with him, no chaperone… Her romantic side had been buried in a cave for years now, and she preferred to let it hibernate. Romantic, ha. The animal part of her nature. Even with her fear for Peter, she’d felt the effect of Caleb’s smile and his well-built body and those hands.

She shivered a little. Mother Winthrop started to speak, and Julianna held up a finger. She spoke in a near-whisper. “Let’s wait until we’re on our way, please.”

Her mother-in-law looked confused but obeyed.

Harriet stood near the entrance, reading a book. What a very odd thing for a ladies’ maid to read.

“Schopenhauer?” Juliana asked, fascinated. “What do you think?”

“Hmm. Depressing.” Harriet carefully replaced the book. “Are we going home, ma’am?”

“No, no, but I can’t recall Mr. Sawyer’s address. Not so far from Forty-second Street, but what is the cross street? I cannot remember.”

Julianna heard distant voices. They had to leave soon or be discovered. Caleb must have heard them. “We’re going now.” She carefully reached up and grabbed the bell on its coil to muffle it. Then she opened the front door and hurried the other two women out.

Danny stood on the sidewalk outside, his box on the ground next to him as he waited for customers. “I ain’t been paid yet,” he said, sounding unconcerned. “Mr. Walker still in there? He’s good for it.”

“Yes, he is inside. Please tell him we’re going on the errand he suggested to Mrs. Winthrop.”

“He loves sending people off on errands. Not complaining,” Danny added.

“Thank you,” Julianna said, but Danny was already distracted.

He waved a hand at a passing man. “Hey, mister, shine your shoes?”

Harriet had some practice flagging a taxi for her mistress, so Julianna and her mother-in-law huddled against the building, waiting.

“Are you all right?” Julianna asked.

Her mother-in-law nodded. “Yes. I believe I am. I feel sick but on the mend.”