Page 5 of Blackmailed (The Browns of Butcher’s Hill #2)

“ A dead man?” Virginia said then, turning on her stool to face her maid.

Colleen Hughes had been with her as a personal maid since shortly after her mother had died and she’d turned sixteen.

Colleen was only a few years older than her and had become somewhat of a companion during their travels in Europe. “You must tell me all.”

Colleen turned her back toward the mirror and ran the brush through Virginia’s hair, telling her all that had happened the day prior.

“We never ran into dead bodies or found ourselves in brothels when we were overseas, did we, Colleen?” Virginia smiled at her in the mirror. “Only here in Baltimore, Maryland. But how is Miss Brown?”

“Very well, it seemed. She is interested in hearing about our trip, and I promised to visit soon.”

Virginia looked down at her hands. How she longed to see Sarah Brown’s brother.

She’d thought of him more often than was healthy while on their trip, often when she was viewing a famous work of art or other interesting sites, and especially when they’d visited the Colosseum in Italy.

She thought he would have loved to see where so many battles had been fought.

She looked up when Colleen stopped brushing her hair.

“You should come with me,” she said.

“I don’t want to interfere with your social life, Colleen. You deserve your own friends and entertainments.”

“Aren’t you interested in seeing Miss Brown and . . . others in her family?” she asked with a grin.

Virginia felt her face color. She was interested. She wanted to see him. Longed to. She’d missed him, even his occasional high-handedness.

“Why don’t you come with me?” Colleen said. “You were friendly with Miss Brown too. And if any other members of her family are there, we can greet them as well.”

“No need to dissemble,” Virginia said and smiled. “I’ll admit I look forward to seeing the Brown family again. All of them.”

“Did you find anything out about Colfax’s murder?” Phillip asked his longtime friend Timothy Sweitzinger. He’d become a policeman in his early twenties and now led a small squad of other officers arresting violent criminals.

Timothy nodded. He leaned against the wide polished bar close to Phillip, who was serving beer, as he did a few nights a week, at the Bond Brewery. Phillip nodded to the other man behind the bar with him, Emil Schmidt, a big bear of a man who was as good in a fight as any.

Phillip moved down to where there were no customers as it was a quiet evening and motioned Timothy to follow him. “What did you find out?”

“Did you know Colfax’s uncle is the Speaker of the House of Representatives in Washington and will soon be the new vice president? Cornelius came here to be a private secretary to his uncle and was known to be a man about town. Very popular with the society ladies here and in the capital.”

Phillip grimaced. “Has his uncle been notified?”

“Yes. Have you heard of the Pinkertons?”

“Aren’t they the police for hire? They saved Lincoln from the first assassination attempt.”

“That’s right. So happens that the uncle is friends with Allan Pinkerton, who has thoughtfully dispatched a few men to look into this murder.”

“Damn!”

“Agreed. But there’s nothing to be done about it. The chief told us to cooperate fully with them.”

“Who’s in charge of the investigation, then?”

Timothy took a long pull from his mug. “That’s not entirely clear.”

“Let me know if you find out anything.”

“What’s your interest?” Timothy asked.

“Nothing yet. But it would be helpful if I knew the names of some of the fences in the city.”

Timothy stared at him, finally pulling a small notebook out of his pocket and tearing out a sheet. He scribbled with a stubby pencil and handed Phillip the paper. “You owe me.”

Phillip glanced at the paper and looked up. “I do. I better get back to work now.”

Timothy nodded and made his way to a table where two women sat—both widows, Phillip was certain. They welcomed him to the open seat at their table with a flourish.

The following day, Phillip was to be off from work, but at six in the morning, Tom, a messenger boy from the cannery, knocked on the back door of their Wolfe Street home with a note which said one of the massive steamers was down and they needed his help to repair it.

He was at the cannery within a half hour, directing men, sending for supplies, and preparing new cables to be attached to the baskets.

It was after six in the evening when he arrived home, exhausted and filthy, washed, ate a quick meal, and headed to Dolly’s shop.

The door opened after he knocked several times.

She had yet to speak to him as she led him upstairs, not even a hello, and seated herself at small table near her kitchen stove.

He sat down across from her without waiting for an invitation.

“Do any of these names sound familiar?” he asked and looked down at the scrap of paper in his hand.

“Anthony Katana, Thomas Bruner, or Irene Littleman?”

She shook her head. “No. Who are they?”

“They’re fences working the city. I have to figure out who Colfax was selling to, and we’ll have our killer.”

“Why didn’t you come earlier? You said you would.”

“There was an emergency at the cannery, and I had to go to work. Did you open your shop today?”

“I did.”

“That’s good. I think it’s important that you act like you would any other time.”

She glanced up at him then. “I’m terrified,” she whispered.

“Colfax’s murder must be solved, and you must remain diligent. Did you do anything other than allowing him to store goods here?”

“No. I didn’t even know what was in the boxes he brought here.”

“Was Willis Shoeman here last night?”

“The Negro?”

Phillip nodded. “He’s good in a fight, and he’s helped me before.”

“I didn’t sleep much anyway.”

“I understand that,” he said as sympathetically as he could muster.

This woman had put herself at risk, although he’d made a few colossal mistakes in his day too.

Thank goodness Uncle Patrick had been around to bail him out.

“I’d like to see if there’s anything still in your cellar.

Can you show me where Colfax stored his boxes? ”

She stood and went down the stairs and into one of the back rooms, where bolts of fabric stood on shelves at both ends of the room and a large, high table covered with pins, needles, and bits of cloth sat in the middle.

Tall windows lined one side, and several lamps hung on the walls.

She lit an oil lamp and opened a door in the corner.

Phillip had to duck under the low ceiling in the small room they were in after descending some rickety steps.

There was nothing of note where they were, just a dirt floor and a few shelves with dusty jars, but Dolly headed to the shelves and pulled one away after removing a few jars.

She pulled a set of keys from her pocket and unlocked the door that was hidden behind the shelves.

That room was larger than expected and had a wooden floor.

There was a coal chute on one side, and Dolly opened it.

“That’s how he got boxes down here. There’s a narrow path down the side of the building and then the neighbor’s tall fencing.”

“So someone would be in this room, and someone else would hand down the goods.”

She nodded. “I guess so. I was never involved. He would come in the middle of the night.”

“How did he get inside?”

“He had a key.”

“Did he have the key with him when he was murdered?”

“I don’t know,” she said and began to cry. “I didn’t think to look.”

“Get a locksmith to change your locks.”

She nodded. “I will right away.”

“Do you know who the second man was?”

“Second man?”

“If Colfax was in this room, then someone was outside handing him the goods. There’s another man involved.”

“I heard him talking one night last summer when my windows were open in my rooms. He said something to a ‘Jimmy.’”

“No idea who Jimmy is?”

She shook her head. “I do know that Colfax lived on Mott Street. He dropped an envelope once, and I saw the address. Maybe the number started with a two. Maybe. I didn’t see it long.”

There was something not quite honest about Dolly Irving.

She had compelling reasons for her actions, if her story was true, but he would always wonder what she would do if she had an opportunity to give something away about him .

Dolly was loyal to Dolly, although what choice did a woman alone in this world truly have?

“I’ll see if I can speak to someone at his home. Maybe Jimmy is a servant there.”

Phillip began the short walk home, glad for the time to clear his head and think about the puzzle pieces at the Everly home and now at Dolly’s too.

It would have been far easier to concentrate on one problem at a time, but that was not meant to be.

He glanced back at Dolly’s shop and saw two riders stop and tie their horses.

Two imposing-looking men, both dressed in dark suits with thin ties around their neck.

It looked from a distance that both men were wearing gun belts.

Pinkertons. Just as well they didn’t meet him. He hoped Dolly didn’t mention his name.

Virginia accepted tea from Sarah Brown and nibbled on the most delectable shortbread she’d tasted since the last time she’d been at the Brown home.

She and Colleen had arrived shortly after noontime and were greeted warmly.

Mr. Brown, the elder uncle who lived with them, stopped in after they were seated, sat down on the brick curb of the fireplace, and asked to listen to their stories if they didn’t mind.

“Oh no, Mr. Brown. We’re glad to see you and you’re more than welcome to listen.”

Colleen told them much about their visit to London and all the sites they’d seen. “It was nothing like I expected it to be,” she said. “It was dirty and crowded; still, the churches and museums were beautiful and massive.”

“And the wealthy sections were not dirty and crowded,” Virginia said.