Chapter Thirty-one
“The venison was to your liking?” Rufus T. Proudfoot said.
“Yes, indeed it was, and the dessert figs were wonderful,” Hannah said. “I’m quite surprised that a frontier town has such exquisite cuisine.”
“Yes, it always comes as a surprise to visitors. More wine?”
“Just a little.”
Proudfoot poured the red zinfandel and said, his face revealing nothing, “You’re an adventuress, Miss Huckabee, and you’ve recounted some of your adventures, especially those with the wild Cossacks on the Russian steppe, that had me on the edge of my seat with excitement.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Proudfoot,” Hannah said. She opened the tiny purse that matched her evening dress and produced a silver cigar case. She extracted a slim cheroot and held it up to her companion. “May I beg your indulgence?”
“Please do,” Proudfoot said. “I was about to have a pipe.”
The man tipped the candelabra so that Hannah could light her cigar, and then he looked around the crowded restaurant and dropped his voice to a whisper.
“You are no stranger to danger, Miss Huckabee, and you have a pistol that you know how to use. Is that not so?”
“Yes, it’s so,” Hannah said. “I was taught to how to use a revolver by my late uncle. He was an adventurer and a crack shot.”
Proudfoot saw the question on the woman’s face, and said, “I’m about to ask you to embark on yet another adventure, one that will involve considerable risk to yourself.”
“I’m not sure that I want to hear this, but go on,” Hannah said, smiling. She took a sip of wine. “Now you intrigue me, Mr. Proudfoot.”
The Pinkerton reached inside his jacket and produced a folded piece of paper. “First read this, Miss Huckabee.”
“What is it?” Hannah said.
“It’s a list of the victims of the Servant Girl Annihilator.”
“This is hardly after-dinner reading,” Hannah said.
“I know, and I apologize for that. But before I tell you about the perilous adventure I propose, I really think you should see this.”
Hannah frowned. “Well, if you insist.”
She took the paper, unfolded it, and read the meticulous copperplate:
Mollie Smith, 25, colored servant girl. Killed by an axe as she slept.
Eliza Shelly, age unknown, colored servant girl. Dragged from her bed and then killed outside house with an axe.
Irene Cross, colored servant girl, killed by a knife while she slept.
Mary Ramey, 11, raped and killed by an axe. Her mother Rebecca seriously wounded while trying to save her daughter.
Gracie Vance, colored servant girl, dragged from bed and killed by knife and axe. Orange Washington killed during attack on Gracie Vance. Lucinda Boddy and Patsey Gibson seriously wounded.
Susan Hancock, white woman, dragged from bed and murdered by an axe.
Eula Phillips, white woman, murdered by an axe. Decapitated. Her husband James seriously wounded.
“Well, that was not a very pleasant experience, Detective Proudfoot,” Hannah said. “Why did you insist on me reading it?”
“Because the Annihilator will kill again, and soon more names will be added to that terrible list,” Proudfoot said. “He has to be stopped. His pattern is to allow a week to elapse between murders, and Mrs. Phillips was killed six days ago. He will strike tonight or tomorrow night. He’ll be forced to it, Miss Huckabee. The need to kill will drive him.”
Hannah allowed herself a slight smile. “Mr. Proudfoot, I think I know where this conversation is headed, and I feel the need for a brandy and coffee.”
“Coming up.” The Pinkerton grinned.
“I must warn you, I’m not a cheap dinner companion,” Hannah said.
“I know. Thank goodness for an expense account.”
They both laughed, and after the brandy and coffee arrived, Proudfoot said, “Now, do you wish to know about the adventure I have in mind for you?”
Hannah smiled, and the candlelight tangled in her auburn hair and gleamed on the swell of her breasts. “No, let me tell you, Detective.”
“Please do,” Proudfoot said, smiling.
“You’re going to ask me to walk the streets alone and shake my bustle, bait for the woman killer,” Hannah said. “The only thing is, there are several things wrong with that plan, the most obvious being . . . where the hell do I hide a .45 in this dress? In my corset?”
Disapproving heads turned in Hannah’s direction, and she whispered, “I was a little loud there, wasn’t I?”
Proudfoot smiled. “Who can blame you? But no, Miss Huckabee, you will not walk the streets, you will go to bed in your hotel room. In other words, just do as you would normally do when visiting a strange city.”
“And when the Annihilator comes in, I plug him. Is that the case?”
“You won’t need to shoot him, because you won’t be alone. I’ll have armed men in the next room ready to intervene at a moment’s notice,” Proudfoot said. “And, of course, I’ll be one of them.”
Hannah swirled her brandy, sniffed, tasted, and then said, “It’s quite ordinary. I’m surprised.”
The Pinkerton smiled. “I’m sure that somewhere in this town there’s better. I’ll use all my detective skills to track down a fine brandy. That is, after . . .”
“After tonight,” Hannah said.
“Yes, after tonight.”
“Mr. Proudfoot . . .”
“Call me Rufus.”
“Oh dear, do I have to?”
“I have an unlovely name, but I try to make the best of it.”
“Then Rufus it is,” Hannah said. “You know your plan isn’t going to work. The killer isn’t going to walk past a hotel desk clerk, climb the stairs to the third floor, and attack me in my bedroom. And that’s if he even comes at all.”
“There won’t be a desk clerk. Between the hours of eleven at night and seven in the morning, the Regency front desk is not manned. The hotel owners figure everyone will be asleep, or they’re trying to save money, take your pick. The murderer is quiet, and he’s daring. He’s already entered several homes and dragged screaming women from their beds and axed them to death outside, and all the work of a moment. He then disappears. To where, no one can tell.”
“But the Annihilator doesn’t even know I’m in the hotel,” Hannah said.
Proudfoot’s face drained of all expression. His voice strangely hollow, he said, “By now he knows, Miss Huckabee. Trust me, the fiend already knows, and he’s already whetting his axe.”
“Rufus, what a singularly strange and frightening thing to say.” Hannah drank more brandy, this time without complaint.
“I was given a good description of the killer and spent the past few days following every lead,” Proudfoot said. “I tracked down a suspect who fits the bill, and if it is indeed him, he’ll strike tonight. By the way, the city authorities, from the mayor on down, want the killer dead. There are no ifs, buts, or maybes on that. I’ve been ordered to kill him so that his shadow no longer falls on the earth.”
Hannah was silent for long moments and then said, “As a woman in a man’s world with everything to prove, I can’t claim to be an adventuress and refuse a dangerous adventure when it’s offered. And if I can save another female life, then that is an even greater incentive. But I must make a condition, Rufus.”
“Name it, dear lady,” Proudfoot said. “I will make any concession within reason.”
“There are only two men I’ll trust to be in the adjoining room, Red Ryan, shotgun guard, and Buttons Muldoon, driver, of the Patterson stage.”
“Ah, Red Ryan I met in the hotel. He seemed competent enough. What about the Muldoon fellow?”
“Fear doesn’t enter into Buttons’s thinking. He and Red are more than capable, and they’ve proved their valor many times,” Hannah said. “Their bravery is not in question.”
“And where can I find these paladins?”
“I expect we’ll find them at the Patterson stage depot,” Hannah said.
“Then, if you’re ready, let’s put our proposition before them,” Proudfoot said.