Page 28 of Blackmailed (The Browns of Butcher’s Hill #2)

M r. Wiest told Everly that Phillip would not be needed at work until the threats against his daughter were over. Phillip was glad as he would be stretched thin guarding Virginia, his own home and residents, and finding evidence to put Horatio Clement away. He met up with Timothy at Red’s Tavern.

“What’s the plan?” Timothy asked when he slid into the booth across from Phillip.

“I wish I knew,” Phillip said. “Were there any witnesses from the alley behind Dolly’s that might have seen something?”

“There might have been, but my officers said they were terrified and just kept repeating that they saw nothing. I can hardly blame them.”

“What will it take? What do we need to find to get this guy behind bars?”

“We have to catch him in the act. Thieving or violence.”

Phillip sat back in his chair and took a long pull of his beer. “We’ll have to catch him stealing something.”

“He’s going to be mighty careful now, I think. Laying low.”

“Maybe we need to give him a reason to come out of hiding,” Phillip said.

“Since we’re not thieves, might be tough.”

“Could be. Dangerous too, but no more danger than we’re currently in. There’s some pieces to this puzzle. I’d have to convince some folks that’s it’s in their best interest to go along. But maybe we can lure Clement out of hiding.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Captain Reed,” Phillip said later that day to the Pinkerton after tracking down his location. “How are you feeling?”

The man was looking considerably better than the last time Phillip had seen him. He was in a leather chair near a window with some papers and books piled on a table at his side, probably very happy to be in his own home and out of the hospital.

“Brown,” he said. “I am doing better according to the doctors, but I’m still very weak. Look at me, still in nightclothes and robe after I’ve had my lunch.”

“Progress can be very slow when a person is injured as much as you were.”

“It can, and truthfully, I’m just grateful to be alive but impatient as well. What brings you here today?” he asked and folded the newspaper in his hands. “Please sit. Shall I call for coffee or tea for you?”

“No. No, thank you, sir. I’m here to ask a favor.”

“Trying the honest approach, are we?”

“I think that you’re the type of man who prefers straight talking, and if I can’t convince you, then my entire plan to ensure the safety of my family, and a woman I care deeply about, from a man willing to commit murder, falls apart.”

“Good grief, Brown. What are you talking about? And why do I feel I’m going to hate what you have to say?”

“I imagine you are.”

“How so?”

Phillip took a deep breath. “I need a carrot to dangle in front of Irene Littleman to get her to cooperate with me.”

“The woman who nearly killed me? The woman who would have happily thrown me in the bay, dead or alive? That Irene Littleman?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Irene Littleman,” he said and sat back in his chair. “I can hardly believe I’m asking this. What exactly would I have to do?”

“Not too much,” Phillip said. “And I’m not positive I’ll even be able to speak to her, so this is long shot.”

“You better tell me what’s going on,” he said and rang a bell on his table. He directed a servant for hot coffee, which was promptly delivered and poured.

Phillip waited until the servant left. “Do you have any brandy around, Captain?”

The captain eyed him. “Yes. Bottom cabinet under the bookshelf.”

Phillip sipped his coffee and refilled it to the brim with the brandy. He looked at the captain, who nodded.

“I’ve been told to avoid alcohol until I’m fully recovered.”

“Do you always follow the rules?”

“No need to flatter me,” he said with a laugh. “Now tell me about what is sure to be a ridiculous plan.”

“You can’t go alone,” Timothy said. “You can’t go at all. Neither of us can. She may be willing to help to the detriment of her competition, but she’s never going to forget we broke into her property and took the Pinkertons away. Never.”

Virginia was seated in the parlor with her father, Timothy, and Phillip, who were discussing their plans to set a trap for Clement. They needed Irene Littleman’s cooperation, but Timothy was right. Miss Littleman would never allow Phillip out alive if he went to her hideout.

“She must leave her bolt-hole once in a while. Maybe we can talk to her when she’s outside of the Water Tavern,” Phillip said.

Timothy shook his head. “I spoke to the police investigator who works the docks. He said he’s never seen her, and he could identify Thomas Bruner and Anthony Katana, the other well-known fences.”

“I suppose I could send a message and ask for a meeting,” Phillip said. “Although I don’t think she’ll go for it.”

“The only way we get a face-to-face with her is for one of us to walk in and hope like hell we can walk out.”

Phillip nodded. “Let’s think on it overnight, but I think you’re right, I think I’ve just got to walk into the Water Tavern. Let’s plan on tomorrow evening. Can you get some officers to come with us?”

“Yes. There’ll be enough if we need to charge the place. Don’t want to start a war with those people, but I don’t think we have a better plan.”

“Agreed.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of you walking into this hornet’s nest, Brown. You could be hurt or kept prisoner like those Pinkerton fellows. There must be another way,” her father said.

“I don’t believe there is, Mr. Wiest, or I would do something different.”

“What exactly has the Pinkerton captain agreed to do for her?” he asked. Virginia listened closely while turning the pages of the fashion magazine on her lap.

Phillip and Timothy shook hands and whispered a few things before Timothy left. Her father continued to bluster, but the fact was someone needed to speak to this woman face-to-face. It shouldn’t be Phillip Brown. He’d never come out alive, and she had no intention of allowing that to happen.

Virginia woke when it was still dark outside, as she’d hoped.

She’d slept poorly, but at least she was in her own bed, with men patrolling the house both inside and out.

She dressed quickly in a dark dress and cloak, her hair covered with a bonnet.

She’d taken the large wicker basket from the kitchen used by the cooks for carrying vegetables from the market that were not delivered to Shellington’s kitchen door.

She heard someone walk down the hallway toward the staircase, waited for several minutes, and left her room.

She looked back as she closed her door to make sure the note she’d left Colleen was still on her pillow.

The hardest part about leaving her house was avoiding the men patrolling the halls and grounds, and the servants beginning their daily chores.

A few looked her way but paid her no mind, most likely thinking she was on the way to buy greens for the evening’s dinner.

She walked several blocks as the sun came up fully, trying not to think about what she intended to do.

She found a small carriage for hire in the area Colleen had mentioned she used when visiting her family.

“The Water Tavern, please,” she said to the driver.

“Down on the docks, miss?”

“That’s the one,” she said and smiled.

“Going to be a hefty fare,” he said and turned his carriage the opposite direction. “Not a very nice place for a young miss either.”

“I won’t be long inside the tavern and am hoping I can convince you to wait for me.”

The driver shrugged. “Maybe all the bad ’uns will still be abed.”

“We can hope.”

The ride took more than half an hour. Virginia tried to concentrate on the passing buildings and neighborhoods that had slowly begun to deteriorate the farther along they traveled, but her mind kept straying to her task and occasionally to how very, very angry Phillip Brown would be with her if she made it out alive.

The street the Water Tavern was on was gray, even with the morning sun shining down between tall buildings on either side.

The bricks and boards were gray, the windows that weren’t broken were filthy, and the street was muddy and smelled as if every chamber pot in the city had been dumped there.

A young woman wearing a corset and silk petticoats, with drooping feathers sticking out of hair that was falling down in bright red swirls, staggered by singing a song Virginia had never heard.

Many doors and stoops held a sleeping man and, in one case, a huddled woman and two children.

“Don’t think I like this at all, miss,” the driver said. “Let me take you back to your own neighborhood. Won’t even charge you.”

“What is your name, sir? That is a very kind offer,” she said as she dug in her pocket for coins.

“Jed. Jed McDuffy.”

“Here, Mr. McDuffy. I’ll be out within an hour,” she said and handed him several coins, debating what she should say next. “If you become worried after several hours, please find Phillip Brown who lives on Wolfe Street on Butcher’s Hill and tell him what has happened.”

“Brown? Patrick Brown’s nephew?”

“Yes. That’s the family.”

She opened the half door of the carriage and stepped down in the street, holding her skirts as high as she dared.

The smell was nearly overpowering, as well as the desperation in every pair of eyes that flashed her direction.

She walked to a wooden door with a swinging sign above it that said the Water Tavern.

This building, while gray and dirty, was not in disrepair.

There were no broken boards or windows, and the cobbled walk out front was free from loose or uneven stones.

Someone took some care of this building.

Virginia knocked on the door after trying the knob and finding it locked.

After the second knock, the door swung open and there was a huge, hulking man staring at her with fire in his eyes.

“What in the hell do you want? The bar ain’t open, and we don’t need no preaching here. It ain’t even Sunday!”

“Wait,” Virginia said as the door began to close. “Please wait.”

“What do you want?” he growled.