Page 11 of Blackmailed (The Browns of Butcher’s Hill #2)

P hillip was home just a few minutes when there was a knock at his front door.

He lifted the bar he’d installed in December when men had forced their way past poor Jenny, trying to get to a woman his family had been tending from some injuries.

He rested easier knowing that the bar may keep his family safer than a simple lock could.

He opened the door and found Timothy looking at him warily, with the two men that he’d seen going into Dolly’s standing behind him. Pinkertons.

“Timothy,” Phillip said and smiled. “Who are your friends?”

Timothy made a half turn. “Phillip Brown. Captain Reed and Lieutenant Randolph. Of the Pinkertons.”

“How can I help you?” Phillip asked.

“We’re investigating the murder of Cornelius Colfax and understand that you’ve spoken to a few people about it. Please tell us what, if anything, you’ve discovered.”

Phillip watched the lieutenant pull a small notebook and pencil from his jacket pocket. “He was shot in the back,” Phillip said. “From the south end of the alley that runs behind the 200 block of Lombard Street according to Dolly Irving, who came upon the body first.”

“The mortician told us as much,” the captain said. “Who have you talked to about it?”

“A relative works for Mrs. Irving and asked me to talk to her, which I did.”

“What did she have to say?”

Phillip shrugged. “Not too much. She was hysterical.”

“Did she know the victim?” the lieutenant asked.

“Apparently, they were romantically involved at some point. I assumed that was why she was so upset.”

“You were seen near the Colfax home a few days ago. What were you doing there?”

“Huh.” Phillip scratched his head. “What street does Colfax live on?

“Mott Street,” the lieutenant offered.

“Was I on Mott? I went to my boss’s in that section of town to do some work at his house. I went down the wrong alley, I know. Took me a minute to get my bearings since I’m not real familiar with that section of town—the wealthy area, that is.”

The lieutenant was busy making notes while the captain stared at Phillip with a face that said he did not believe anything Phillip was saying. He shouldered his way past Timothy to within a foot of Phillip.

“Leave the investigations to the professionals. I’ll ignore your interference this one time, but if you step out of line once more, I’ll see you jailed. We don’t need an amateur buggering up our work. Go shell some oysters, boy.”

Every muscle in Phillip’s body screamed to respond, to throw a punch, to shout, or at the least reply with an equally caustic or insulting remark.

He was able to control himself, thankfully, because he knew if he didn’t, it would only make his investigation more difficult.

It took every bit of his control to nod and reply in a serious way.

“Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir.”

The captain continued to stare at him until turning abruptly, his lieutenant following quickly behind him.

“Don’t think the captain likes you,” Timothy said.

“I’m certain he doesn’t.”

Both men watched the Pinkertons climb on their horses. “Be careful, Phillip. I don’t think he’s blowing smoke.”

Phillip waited until the workday was over and he was sure Mr. Wiest had left the cannery. He climbed the stairs to his office and knocked. Everly shouted for him to enter.

“What do you want, Brown?” he said as he pulled on his topcoat.

“I need you to tell Jenkins that I may speak to your mother’s maid, Evelyn Porter.”

Everly glanced around and eyed the door. “Lower your voice, man. Whyever do you need to speak to Porter?”

“She may have seen something that she does not realize is important. Many of the missing items were from the second floor of your home, where she works most of her day, near your mother’s sleeping room and sitting room. Jenkins has kept her away from me, and I’m not sure why.”

“Fine, fine,” Everly said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I doubt that she heard anything other than my mother’s commands, but I’ll speak to Jenkins. I’m off to a dinner at the mayor’s house. We are done.”

Phillip went directly to the Everly home the following morning before his shift began. He knocked at the back door and was admitted by the Norris fellow who always seemed to be lurking nearby. Mrs. Veto was rolling out dough on a wooden worktable, and another woman was chopping vegetables.

“Good morning, ladies,” he said with a smile until he saw Jenkins rushing toward him.

“How dare you?” Jenkins hissed. “How dare you speak to Mr. Everly?”

All the chatter in the kitchen and the other small rooms off the hallway quieted, eyes on the two men from each doorway. He did not need to embarrass Jenkins any more than the man had done to himself, especially as he still needed his cooperation.

“Can we speak in your office, Jenkins?” he asked.

The man turned in a huff, stalking down the narrow hallway, heads disappearing from every room he passed. Phillip followed and closed the door to the man’s office behind him.

“Who do you think you are?” Jenkins began, but Phillip stopped him.

“I told you that I would go to Mr. Everly if you continued to keep me from speaking to Porter.”

“I do not understand why you insist on badgering the woman! She has a most difficult job as is, tending to the mistress. Can’t you just leave her alone?”

“I haven’t badgered anyone and don’t intend to start.”

Jenkins went to his chair behind his desk but did not sit. He tapped a pencil on an open ledger. He finally looked up. “Once you speak to Porter, do I have your guarantee that you will leave us in peace?”

Phillip shook his head. “No. I won’t guarantee you anything. I don’t work for you. I’ll find the truth here and tell Mr. Everly. That’s what he asked me to do, and I will do it, with your help or without it.”

“I do not understand why you are so fixated on speaking to Porter.”

“I don’t understand why you are so against me speaking to her. Is she a friend of yours?”

“What are you implying?” Jenkins said, on his dignity.

“Is there a romantic relationship between you and Porter?”

“How dare you!”

“Why don’t you just go get Porter?” Phillip asked. “Then we can be done with this.”

Phillip watched the man weigh his odds, finally leaving his office after telling Phillip to wait in the room where he’d done the interviews in the past.

Evelyn Porter was so thin her wrist bones stuck out like knobs below the cuffs of her black dress.

The uniform was covered in a starched white apron matching the white mobcap on her head.

Not a single hair was visible. Her face was drawn and pale, and her left eye twitched relentlessly.

Phillip smiled at the woman, but her thin white lips remained in a frown.

“Miss Porter?”

“Just Porter.”

“All right. Can you tell me when you began noticing that items were missing from this household?”

“Of course I can. It was right near the time those two Irish whores started working here.”

“Whores? That seems a strong word. I spoke to both of them, and neither gave me the impression they were here for anything other than steady pay.”

She leaned across the table and pointed at Phillip with a long yellowed fingernail. “You don’t know nothing about their ways. Always winking at the men who work here and sidling up to them to rub on their arms.”

There was no use arguing with the woman, Phillip surmised. She had her mind set, heavily influenced by Jenkins, if he was not mistaken. But he intended to get something out of her.

“Many of the items that went missing are on the second floor near where you must spend much of your day. Did you ever see anyone acting suspicious while you were going about your duties?”

“Them two Irish girls, I’m telling you. Always near the master’s rooms and the other bedrooms.”

“What are their duties there?”

“Mrs. Brandeis is their overseer. How should I know?”

Phillip tilted his head. “Come now, Porter. A long-standing, loyal upper servant knows what all the duties are regardless of position.”

She shrugged and frowned. “Lighting the fires if need be, changing the bedsheets. The master insists his bedsheets are changed every third day. The rooms always need a dusting with the coal furnace blasting its dirt. Cleaning the chamber pots. Beating the rugs. Hauling the water for the mistress’s bath. ”

“So they spend their days on the same floor as you, mostly.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing. Just making sure I understand.”

“Best not be implying anything.” She scowled at him.

He glanced at the papers for a long moment and heard her nail tapping on the table. He looked up and met her gaze.

“Where does Mrs. Everly go every Thursday at one of the clock?”

Porter’s thin lips gaped for a moment, her eyes widening.

She recovered quickly. “The mistress doesn’t tell me where she’s going or what she’s doing.

She could be shopping or meeting friends or going to the lending library or to one of her committee meetings.

Not for me to know. I know my place, Brown. ”

“Come in,” Virginia said to the knock on her office door.

“A message for you, Miss Wiest,” the maid said.

“Thank you,” she said and scanned the note. “Is the messenger still here?”

“Yes, miss.”

Virginia wrote a few words on the bottom of the paper and handed it back to the maid. “Please give that to the messenger and tell him to make sure Mr. Brown receives it right away. Thank you, Milly.”

Virginia did not have to wait long until Milly knocked again.

“Mr. Brown is at the back entrance to the kitchen, miss. Where would you like me to show him?”

“I’ll take care of it. Thank you.”