An Agent for Marla Page 3

  “Aye. Let’s all have a seat, shall we?” Mr. Gordon leaned back in his spring-based chair. The coils protested for a routine oiling.

  Mr. Adams, still holding her hand, gently pulled her toward his seat and stepped away to stand at her side. She looked up into his midnight eyes, grasping for something intelligent to say. “I-uh, thank you.”

  He jerked a nod as he poised himself there, with his hand resting on the back of her chair. A warm sensation filled her. It was as if he was caressing her shoulders, yet he wasn’t touching any part of her body. She set her satchel and carpet bag on the other side and smoothed her skirts.

  “Alright.” Mr. Gordon broke the spell. “Let’s take care of formalities first. Marianne assures me she has explained our policy for a woman to join the ranks of our detectives, aye?”

  Marla nodded. She still didn’t trust her voice.

  “Aye, well then, you are willing to accept this requirement of your employment, I take it?”

  Again Marla mutely bobbed her head. Her eyes flitted to the man standing next to her. If only her heart would settle down. She needed to speak, but with the pounding in her throat she just couldn’t trust what type of sound she’d make if she did.

  “Okay.” Gordon sounded hesitant. “We’ll take care of that formality after we discuss the particulars of this case.”

  “You—” Marla swallowed and then cleared her throat. “You mean to say—” She looked up at Pryce. He looked at her as if she had said nothing more than I agree. “Mr. Adams and I will be married… after this briefing? Today? This afternoon?”

  “Yes.” Gordon let his hand hover above a dossier. “Are you alright with that, Miss Porter? Because if you’re not, now’s the time to tell me.” Scotland intertwined heavily in his words.

  “No, no.” She stammered. “I was just getting my facts straight.”

  Gordon glared at her a moment. “Alright then, let’s move on.”

  Bronco leaned back in his chair and pulled the knife from his boot. Marla’s eyes darted to the weapon. Was he going to throw it again? But all he did was clean his fingernails with the tip of the blade.

  Gordon opened the dossier. “What we have is a murder mystery.”

  

  A murder mystery! Marla nearly shouted. Her brows peeked high on her forehead instead and her heart pounded even harder. What great luck! Not only did she get accepted into the Pinkerton's Female Detective Bureau, but she was being given a murder to solve right out of the starting gate.

  “Uh.” She interrupted. “May I take notes?” She reached for her satchel.

  Gordon glared at her with his mouth open as if he were mid-sentence. “Aye… yes, of course.” His eyes dashed to Pryce and back to the dossier. Marla pulled out her reporter’s pad and a pencil. She held the pencil over the pad in thought, then wrote today’s date and time at the top. She looked up at Gordon, indicating she was ready. He blinked and then dipped his chin in approval.

  “Alright. We have a man found at the Trinidad Bank and Trust where he worked, bludgeoned to death with a hammer early of a morn. A total of $130,000 dollars was missing from the vault, which was standing wide open, and presumed to be stolen by the murderer. The man’s body and the bloody hammer were found beside his desk. Other evidence is listed in the dossier. His name was James Gordon.” Archie Gordon looked up at the three. “No relation.” He dropped his eyes back to the information. “He was a teller but he also handled the bookkeeping in the evening. He frequently worked late into the evening, accommodating those business owners who wished to make their end-of-day deposit after they closed their stores. Our man was known to be the last person to lock up at night and the first to unlock in the morn. This day was very different… for everyone.”

  Gordon looked up at Marla. She blinked and waited for more information with her pencil poised. Verifying she was handling the gruesome information without swooning, he continued. “Well, the details are all here in your dossier.” He gestured to the folder. Our suspect was sloppy, not only in the way he killed Gordon, but in leaving clues behind, but— it’s all circumstantial and the authorities in Trinidad have brought this to me because they need solid evidence to link the killer and thief to the crime…” Archie opened the dossier and searched the report. “There are two strong suspects, you need to determine which is the guilty party.” He slammed the file shut, folding his hands over the dossier. He drew in a deep breath. Silence filled the room. Marla waited patiently.

  “I feel it in me gut. This case is going to take the three of you.” He turned to Bronco. “Is Claudette in agreement with you being away for a little while longer?

  Bronco jerked a nod. “She is.”

  “Good. That’s very good. So, I am assigning it to all of ye. And Miss Porter, I think if you could present yourself as Pryce’s daughter, I believe the guise will work well in this situation. Don’t ask me how I know… let’s just say— my years of experience leads me to this conclusion.” Mr. Gordon took a deep breath. “Lady and gentlemen, we need a confession. At all costs. Without it, I cannot see how we can get past circumstantial claims and the murdering thief will go free.”

  Bronco puckered his lips in thought and nodded. Pryce continued his steady gaze at the dossier, as if he were absorbing the information in the report by some mental power she wasn’t aware. Marla smiled. He was such a handsome man, like Marianne had said. She couldn’t imagine maintaining the charade of a celibate marriage for long. If he had any affection for her, she wasn’t sure how resistant she could remain. After all, they would be married… soon. She swallowed hard.

  “Well.” Pryce stepped toward Gordon’s desk with his hand extended. Gordon placed the dossier in his hand. Pryce opened it and perused the report. “Trinidad by train then, I assume.”

  “Yes.” Gordon smiled. “The short line south will leave tomorrow morning. Bronco, you go buy three tickets south and meet Pryce and Miss Porter for dinner. You two— the agency will put you up in a suite at the Tabor Hotel so you can get better acquainted and begin your training. I advise you to use this afternoon and evening with Adams and Wauneka sorting out your cover story and costumes. If you need to make any purchases toward that endeavor, you may have to wait until you arrive in Trinidad.”

  Pryce gently nudged Marla’s arm to aid her in standing. She could get used to such gentlemanly gestures. He tilted his head toward the door as he tucked the dossier under his arm. Silently they filed out the door. Gordon walked close behind them. He had picked up a worn leather book as he rounded his desk. Curiosity strained Marla’s eyes as she attempted to distinguish what this important book was.

  In the foyer, Marianne stood next to the front door with one hand behind her back, while a pale, white-haired woman stood next to her with a basket over her arm. In contrast, a beautiful dark haired woman stood next to Pearl with a strikingly attractive child on her hip. They looked like they were in a greeting procession. The woman had to be Pearl that Marianne had mentioned. Marla glanced at the basket. What did it contain? Archie stepped around Pryce and Marla, while Bronco sidestepped them and kissed the dark haired woman and the baby. Was this his new wife and their child? He moved to stand on the opposite side of the door from the women.

  Pearl sniffed and touched a delicate hanky to her nose. Marla smiled at the woman, hoping to convey some comfort for whatever had brought her to tears. Gordon turned his back to the door, facing Pryce and Marla, and opened the leather bound book.

  “Yew two.” He pointed about three feet in front of himself. “Stand right here.”

  Price bent his elbow and nudged Marla’s arm. She looked down at the object by which she had been prodded. “Ow.”

  Realizing he meant for her to put her hand in the crook of his elbow so he could escort her properly, she took his proffered elbow. Marianne stepped toward Marla with a small batch of autumn colored mums that looked and smelled freshly picked. A blue ribbon bound the stems. Pearl sniffed with a whimper and Mrs. Wauneka smiled brilliantly. r />
  Marla’s eyes widened. This was her wedding! If her mother ever found out this happened, this way, without her, she’d kill Marla graveyard dead. Marla glanced down at her plain brown and highly wrinkled traveling gown. The hem was covered in dust from her attempt to walk back to town. She had much nicer, clean gowns in her trunk. An opportunity to freshen up, change clothes, would have been nice.

  “I-but-I.” Marla stammered.

  Her eyes moved to the pretty flowers in her hand. Marianne had made a kind effort to make this a special occasion worth remembering. The manner in which Pearl shed tears made it feel like the woman had known Marla all her life. Another sweet gesture. Or a sign of mental instability. Marla drew her lips into her mouth and bit down.

  Oh well, it was a marriage in name only. She lifted her chin and smiled at Pryce. His stoic gaze remained forward as Mr. Gordon cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

  Marla stared at the Bible in his hand. At last she knew what that book was. Well, Marla, she said to herself. You’ve always prided yourself in going to any length to get a story. What did Nanny say about pride and a fall? She grimaced.

  Glancing up at Pryce, she considered his handsome face. He was twenty years older than her, but he seemed very kind, respectful, and athletic.

  She could do worse.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  

  “Mrs. Adams…” Pryce bowed with a large gesture of his arm to the interior of the hotel suite.

  Marla stared at him, refusing to walk in. “Please don’t call me that.”

  “Why not? It’s your name, now.” He stood tall and stiff.

  “Legally, yes, but we both know you didn’t give me your name out of any form of affection.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Longing to take a bath and change into clean clothes, she questioned her sanity at confronting this beautiful-eyed man at a time like this.

  “Forgive me. But I thought you agreed—”

  “There wasn’t a whole lot of choice here.” Marla tilted her head. “And this case is a repor— I mean a detective’s dream.”

  He cocked his head back. He too refused to walk in before she did. “Oh, were you a reporter?”

  “If you want to call writing about Missus O’Leary’s cat winning Fattest Cat at the County Fair being a reporter.”

  His lip quivered. He looked like he tried not to, but the laughter bubbled out of his mouth anyway. “Fattest Cat? Mrs. O’Leary? I thought it was her cow that made headlines last year.”

  Marla glared at him. “That was in Chicago. I’m from Topeka. And headline stories aren’t granted to me. That’s why I came here.” She hastened to alter that slip up. “I need a job that wields more respect.”

  His laughter waned. “If it’s prestige you’re after, this isn’t that kind of job. Pinkertons work incognito. We don’t make headlines or get recognition for our work. That’s what makes us so good at what we do. We are subtle and silent.”

  “I’m not saying I want headline recognition, just respect from my fellow… partner.”

  “Ah. I see. Well, I personally have never disrespected a woman.” He bent to scoop her into his arms. “… unless she asked me to.”

  Marla’s mouth dropped open. “Mr. Adams!”

  He cradled her against his hard, muscular chest as he stepped across the threshold, cocked his head to one side, and smiled. “Mrs. Adams, we are married. This is tradition, is it not?” He kicked the door closed behind him and let her slide down to her feet. Their eyes locked. A sizzling sensation shot through Marla’s whole body.

  She had to get out of the scrutiny of his midnight blues. But she could not stop herself. She was lost in those eyes. He leaned closer to her and brushed a sweet kiss on her lips. He paused. Her heart pounded against her ribs and her breath stalled. She didn’t resist.

  His eyes darted between hers until his lips pressed against hers. This time he lingered, caressing her mouth with his, releasing a feral passion she had no control over. She answered his fervor, tasting his lips and partaking of the most exciting kiss she’d ever experienced.

  Suddenly, he stumbled back from her. Confusion swamped her brain. They both heaved for air. “Well, I believe we fulfilled that tradition appropriately.” He turned from her and strolled casually into the common room.

  She hurried into the room, looking for a place to hide until she could gain control over her emotions. The bedroom! She rushed into the bedroom and shoved the doors closed. She collapsed on the bed and stared at the ceiling. That man had powers over her like no one she’d ever known.

  A tap on the door caused her to sit up abruptly. “What?”

  “Your trunk is here. Would you like to freshen up?” He asked with such sugary sweetness, she wanted to slap his face… or throw herself into his arms and ravage his mouth again. “Yes, please.”

  She leapt to her feet and swung the door open. A bellhop stood in front of Pryce with his palm cupped as Pryce dropped coins in.

  “Could you bring my trunk in here, good man?”

  The bellhop glanced up. “Yes ma’am.” He hustled to move it into the bedroom.

  “Thank you.” She placed a coin of her own in his palm. His eyes brightened. “Thank you, Mrs. Adams.”

  Marla cringed and darted a hateful look toward Pryce, who grinned with far too much pleasure in what he had just witnessed.

  The bellhop closed the door after he went through.

  “Shut up.” Marla pursed her lips to suppress the amusement that strangled her will to be mad. “How much time do I have before we meet Mr. Wauneka for dinner?”

  Pryce furrowed his brow. “Look, you’re one of us now. Better call him Bronco, or he’ll think you don’t like him.”

  “Maybe I don’t like him.” She blinked slowly. “A grown man who plays with knives and throws them around inside a stately mansion is no friend of mine.”

  Pryce rubbed his beard. “I see. Well then, you need to know a few things about the man before you judge him so harshly. Come sit down, please.”

  Reluctantly, she folded down on a divan in the common room. Pryce elegantly walked to an opposite divan and eased down. He crossed his leg and picked at something Marla couldn’t see on his trousers. “Bronco may look and act like a heathen, and believe me, I know his knife tossing is disturbing at times, but there’s no one on the whole wide earth I’d rather be toe-to-toe with an enemy than him. He’s saved my life more than once. And his knife throwing skills are spot on. He once missed me by so few inches, I felt the breeze from the blade as it sailed past my head, and the knife landed dead center in a man’s kill zone on his throat. Right here.” Pryce pointed at his carotid artery. “I didn’t even hear the man approach behind me. I thought Bronco was mad at me, but I’m telling you— you want him as your friend, not your enemy.”

  Marla considered his story. “I’ll take that into consideration, considering I could possibly be in just such peril.”

  “Yes, you could.”

  “And what impossible skills do you have, Mister Adams? That I can rely on for my safety?”

  He smiled. “Some things have to be discovered little by little, Mrs. Adams.”

  She closed her eyes. “I asked you not to call me that.”

  “As you wish.” He rose. “May I assume you would like a hot bath and a chamber maid to press your gown for tonight’s dinner?”

  She sighed. “That would be lovely.”

  He nodded and walked out of the room.

  Marla laid her head back against the divan and closed her eyes. A lot had happened in a small amount of time. Least of which, she had married a man twenty years older than her. Who stirred feelings in her she had never felt before. Marianne had expressed concern in their age difference, as if it wouldn’t be fair to Marla to match her with the older gentleman. Marla didn’t know his exact age, just that he was twenty years her senior— and kissed with all the heat of the devil himself.

  A light tap woke Marla. When had she fall
en asleep? She sprang to her feet and opened the door. A rather young chambermaid curtsied. “I’m Angela, Ma’am. Mister Adams sent me to attend you. May I come in?”

  The woman wore a black maid’s uniform covered by a crisply starched white apron that covered her chest and skirt, and a white muffin cap covered her cotton-blond hair. She held an alabaster box and a basket. A large, muscular man waited behind her. His attire looked like a workman’s uniform with the hotel crest on his chest.

  “Oh, of course.” Marla eyed the man as he followed Angela into the suite. They headed straight to the bedroom. Angela pulled two panels away from what looked like a simple wooden wall across from the large four poster bed. The man stepped in front of the maid and pulled out a large brass tub. Angela ducked inside the space and struck a match before turning a gas knob. A blue flame came to life under a huge copper boiling pot.

  “Thank you, Ivan.” Angela dismissed the man.

  “Ma’am.” He dipped his head and kept his eyes on the floor and he left the suite.

  Soon Angela had drawn a steamy bath with fragrant oil and some rose petals floating on the surface. “Here you are, Mrs. Adams.” She had placed a tri-fold privacy screen, with a peacock painted across the three panels, next to the tub. “If you’d care to show me what you wish to wear this evening, I will get it pressed while you take your bath.” Angela gestured toward Marla’s trunk.

  Marla unlocked it and pulled it open. “This blue gown will do nicely, I think.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Angela curtsied. “If you wish, hand me these clothes as you undress, and I’ll see to it that they are cleaned while you are at dinner.” Angela glanced up with a smile and dropped her eyes to the floor.

  “Thank you.” Marla stepped behind the screen and peeled out of her traveling gown, corset, and small clothes. “There are fresh underthings in there, too, Angela. In the top drawer. If you don’t mind laying them out for me?”

  “My pleasure, ma’am.” Angela’s voice came from across the room where the trunk sat open.