Page 2 of Written in Secret (The Art of Love and Danger)

C HAPTER 2

W HY DID HE ALWAYS GET the runners?

Officer Abraham Hall pushed faster in pursuit of the second member of the aerialist burglar duo. Officer Zimmerman had nabbed the first, but this second one was proving wilier. Lucian, Abraham’s best friend and former partner, would be merciless in his circus jokes once he found out about tonight’s chase.

Abraham pivoted around the corner and darted through the tent’s still-swinging flap.

Only a few feet in front of him, his suspect heaved and flung something—no, someone—Abraham’s direction.

The person slammed into his midsection before he could dodge.

Air exploded from Abraham’s lungs. His feet went out from under him, and he landed on his back, a suffocating weight sprawled across his chest. He lifted his head, and brown trousers and a bright red shirt obscured his view. Dark eyes blinked owlishly at him from a white-painted face.

A clown.

Of course he’d been accosted by a clown. He hated clowns. With a shove, he freed himself, twisting to focus on the escaping burglar, now several yards away.

Another, much-smaller clown blocked the aerialist’s path. Undeterred, the man shoved the obstacle aside only to be met with another in the form of … a three-legged goat? He tumbled over the goat’s back.

That ought to slow—

But no. Somehow the cheat managed to tuck his body into a roll and pop back to his feet instead of landing face-first like a normal person.

This whole night was a farce. Vaudeville couldn’t have come up with more buffoonery.

Abraham groaned as he pushed up from the ground. The mayor would have his head—and his job—if he didn’t catch the fiends who’d been burglarizing the homes of the wealthy since the circus had arrived.

Shaking his head, he started after the aerialist again, but the smaller clown cut in front of him. He avoided the boy but collided with the goat.

Once again, he hit the ground—this time with the beast’s only back leg bucking against his shoulder. Would this never end?

Elephants trumpeted as Officer Yount cut between them and the camels.

Abraham twisted away from the goat, and his foot slipped. Was that … excrement? His stomach lurched. By the size of the pile, it had to be an elephant’s. He pulled his foot free and scraped it along the ground. He could just imagine Lucian’s take on this.

Where was the good God he served? Of course, things could have been worse. He could have landed face-first in the vile stuff.

Yount angled toward the escaping aerialist, and Abraham charged to his feet to help corner the suspect against the wagons.

The aerialist ran faster, leaped against the side of the nearest wagon, and clasped a ring at the top. He swung and contorted to drop on top of the small red-and-gold wagon next to it. The force of his landing and the weight of his body tipped it over. The wagon cracked against the ground, and a side door swung open.

Three angry, screeching monkeys burst forth.

Two of them launched at Abraham. He ducked when he should have dodged, giving one the perfect perch on the back of his head. The other clambered up his front and dug into his pockets. Before he could grab the monkey on his front, the one on his head started jumping and slapping its tiny hands against him, all while screaming at a deafening pitch. Abraham reached behind him to fling it off, but the wretched beast gripped fistfuls of hair and swung around without letting go. Abraham would end up either bald or with a massive headache. Likely both.

“Get off him!” A female voice cut through the screeches. A thwack followed, and the monkey released its grip and flew through the air.

With one tormentor gone, Abraham wrapped his hands around the other, still busy picking his pockets, and hurled it.

A different shrieking started, and he twisted to find the monkey, intent on retribution, tangled in his rescuer’s black curls. Since when were clowns female?

A shrill whistle cut through the chaos, and the monkeys froze.

“Come!” The command bellowed from the front of the tent.

Two of the monkeys scampered toward the gangly man standing in front of a growing crowd of circus workers. The third, however, remained thoroughly snarled in the clown’s curls.

Between her screams and the monkey’s screeching, Abraham’s ears would ring for weeks. He snagged the rascal’s hand and untwined it from her hair.

The ungrateful beast sank its teeth into his hand several times until, finally freed, it joined the others on the man’s shoulders.

Abraham yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away the blood. It didn’t appear the bites would need stitches, but that didn’t lessen the sting.

A quick glance around confirmed the aerialist had escaped. So much for becoming this week’s golden boy. Now he’d be the whipping boy.

His rescuer clown turned damsel in distress lifted wide brown eyes to his. Tears beaded unnaturally on the paint coating her face. Frizz and wild knots stuck out in all directions. The sight was enough to give grown men nightmares. Himself included.

“That is enough.” The harsh words from the man with the monkeys cut off her shaky thank-you. “I am Adam Beadle, and this is my circus. I demand to know what is going on.”

Abraham glanced at Officer Yount, who was brand-new to the Twelfth Ward and policing in general. So far, the man asserted his authority as successfully as a fish climbed a tree. Not something they needed in this already disastrous situation. That left Abraham to take the brunt of what was certain to be an unpleasant interaction.

“We’re Officers Hall and Yount. We caught two of your aerialists burglarizing homes, and we pursued them here. Unfortunately, one escaped after releasing your monkeys, and your clowns interfered.”

Mr. Beadle bristled visibly. “I do not hire crooks. The men you seek cannot be mine. Arrest those clowns if you wish to catch real thieves.”

Abraham shook his head. He must have heard wrong. “You want me to arrest your clowns?”

“These are my monkeys, and this is my circus, but those”—he jabbed a finger in the direction of the two pests edging away with the goat—“are not my clowns.”

At that accusation, the smaller figure holding the goat’s lead stomped forward. “You couldn’t pay me enough to be your clown. If you treat your animals this badly, how much worse must you treat those you employ?”

That was no young boy’s voice. Two female clowns but neither one belonging to the circus? What was going on here?

“You!” Mr. Beadle stalked toward her amid a screeching monkey cacophony. “I told you, that goat is too valuable to sell.”

“But not valuable enough to treat her wounds?”

Good grief. The petite woman crossed her arms and widened her stance as if she intended to go nose to nose with a man twice her size.

“Theresa!” The wild-haired clown snagged her friend’s arm. “Don’t antagonize the man.”

“Officer Hall, I insist you arrest these two for thieving my goat.”

“We didn’t steal her. We’re buying her!” The little clown—Theresa— produced an envelope from somewhere within her shirt and tossed it to the ground near Mr. Beadle’s feet. “The thirty dollars you required is there, just as we agreed.”

Thirty dollars? This wasn’t a carriage they bargained over. It was a goat. And a mangled one at that.

“Thirty dollars is no longer enough.” The monkeys on Mr. Beadle jumped and screeched as if emphasizing his declaration.

Lord, help him. It appeared there was more to this supposed goat theft than first suggested. “Did you set thirty dollars as the price for this goat?”

“It was only a number I threw out, knowing she could not pay it.”

But he did give it as an amount. Would that verbal dealing count as a binding contract? Abraham would let the lawyers decide. “Yount, take Miss Theresa, her companion, and the goat to the station. We’ll sort it out later.”

“This is preposterous! The goat is mine. She didn’t even produce the money until after they’d been caught. I demand these women be charged with theft!”

The man had a point. “Charges will be determined at the station.” Now back to the reason that brought Abraham here in the first place. “About your aerialists—”

“I do not employ crooks!”

Abraham clenched his jaw in an effort not to lose his temper. He’d personally caught the duo climbing out of the mayor’s window and watched their acrobatics as they shinnied to the roof and jumped from house to house in an escape attempt.

Officer Zimmerman pushed his way through the crowd at the tent’s entrance, pulling with him the first burglar. “I tried to grab the other one as he climbed through the opening in the tent’s side, but he disappeared into the camp.”

“Mr. Beadle, will you swear under oath that this man is not your aerialist? Mind you, I have evidence to the contrary, as he and his companion appear on an advertisement for your circus.”

Mr. Beadle’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t speak.

“I’ll take that as confirmation that he is your performer. I need your cooperation in apprehending the other aerialist.”

“I don’t know where he is. If you want him, get a warrant to search the premises. Until then, leave and take those clowns with you. The goat stays.”

Abraham glanced at the pitiful creature. He wouldn’t pay a quarter for the beast, but he wasn’t above using it for his purposes. “The goat goes with us—unless you would like to exchange the goat for your man?”

Mr. Beadle spun away. “Jules, see these officers and clowns off our property.”

The circus strongman, who was purported to have lifted an elephant, loped toward them from the crowd of observers. Abraham had no intention of physically opposing the man, but neither would he leave. Once he was off the property, Beadle could pack up his circus and be gone before Abraham returned with a warrant. Besides, he didn’t need one.

“The circus grounds are city property, Mr. Beadle, and while you have a permit to use them, you do not have the right to remove officers searching for a fugitive.”

Mr. Beadle flexed his fingers but did not turn around. After a prolonged silence, he acquiesced. “Escort Officer Hall through the grounds and assist in his search, but without a warrant, the tents are prohibited.”

The man knew his rights. This was not his first experience with the police.

“Please, Theresa. Officer Yount can’t carry the goat and escort us if you are uncooperative.”

The anxious whisper drew Abraham’s attention to the two clowns behind him. The damsel in distress wrung her hands as her gaze flitted between her scowling friend and a distinctly uncomfortable Officer Yount. If the little shrew decided to escape, Yount would be no match for her.

Better to amend his instructions than be reprimanded for allowing two criminals to escape in one night. “You two will stay and cooperate with Officer Yount until I return, is that understood?”

“No, I don’t understand.” The shrew—Theresa—aimed her scowl at him. “We haven’t committed a crime. We should be free to go.”

Abraham removed the handcuffs from beneath his coat. He hated to shackle a woman, but she left him no choice.

“That’s not necessary, Officer Hall.” Damsel in distress placed a hand on Theresa’s arm. “We’ll cooperate and go to the station to clear up this misunderstanding. You have my word.”

“And why should I accept the word of a trespasser and thief?”

She winced. “Because I refuse to bring more shame upon my father’s name.”

Now she wanted to behave respectably? “And who would that be that it should matter to me?”

Her swallow was audible, but her words almost weren’t. “Dr. George Pelton, a coroner for Cincinnati.”

Pure fallacy. Dr. Pelton’s upstanding reputation was known throughout the city, and the man was a personal friend of the recently appointed Superintendent Carson.

Abraham scrutinized the woman before him. He’d met Dr. Pelton on a number of occasions, but he’d only seen Mrs. Pelton with her daughters indirectly when they’d delivered baked goods. With black hair and thick curls, the woman before him undeniably resembled the impression the older daughter had left. However, the white paint on her face made it difficult to discern if anything else matched what he recalled.

The sinking feeling in his gut did far more than her appearance to confirm her identity.

“Please tell me you are not Lydia Pelton.”

She offered a half smile and shrug. “I could tell you that, but I’d be lying.”

Abraham scrubbed a hand over his face. Of all the people for him to arrest. The superintendent was going to have his head for not permitting her to walk away with naught but a warning. On the other hand, Mr. Beadle was demanding to press charges, and with the women’s lack of payment before taking the goat, the man had grounds to demand it. Even if Abraham was willing to bow to the politics of his superiors, he could not release her. Perhaps if he kept her identity quiet and handled the paperwork himself, he could minimize the damage to both her and Dr. Pelton’s reputations without compromising his ethics.

But he couldn’t leave the search to Yount, and Zimmerman had his hands full with the other aerialist.

“Speak nothing more to anyone and do not allow your friend to cause problems. For Dr. Pelton’s sake, we’ll keep this quiet for as long as possible.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

He took one sweeping glance at her, from monkey-nested hair to her scandalously trousered legs, before pivoting away. She might be the criminal in this case, but he would be the one suffering the consequences. No matter how quiet he kept her initial arrest, the politics of its occurring meant, at best, a dressing-down. At worst? He didn’t want to think about it.