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“Oh, no, Tad. Please be careful.”
“I will.” With a quick kiss on his wife’s cheek, Mr. Baldwin left. Everyone else sat in shocked silence.
Damaged the shipment of goods? Who would do such a thing?
“Oh, oh!”
All heads turned toward Felicia, who held one hand over her stomach. “I’m so sorry,” she rasped. “I, uh, I’m not feeling well all of a sudden. Mark, could you help me up, please?”
He held out his hand to her, then once she was standing, placed his other on the small of her back.
Mrs. Baldwin stood as well. “I’ll have Susy show you to your room.”
“No need, Mrs. Baldwin,” said Felicia. “I think I can remember the way. Good night, everyone. I’m so glad to have met you.”
“We’re glad you’re able to join us for this special occasion.”
Mark and Felicia left the dining room. Sarah expected Mark to return once Felicia was settled. When he didn’t, she tried to hide her concern as she played songs and accompanied Amy, who had a beautiful singing voice, on the pianoforte for the Baldwins’ and their other guests in the conservatory. Sarah lost count of how many times she peeked over the top of the pianoforte to see if Mark was there or how many times she scolded herself for caring that he wasn’t. It was an exhausting ordeal. Later, Derrick escorted her to her room.
“Sleep well, my love. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Same to you, darling.”
He claimed her lips for just a moment before the sound of someone clearing their throat separated them. Amy stood about ten feet away from them, wearing a knowing grin. “Only three more days until the wedding. Three more days of chaperoning you two. Oh, joy.”
Chuckling at Amy’s sarcasm, Sarah said, “Just wait until some knight in shining armor sweeps you off your feet. You won’t know what hit you.”
The easy grin slid off Amy’s face, and to Sarah’s surprise, a tortured look overtook it.
“Amy, are you all right?”
“Yes.”
The answer came out clipped. Before Sarah could ask her anything more, however, Amy opened the door to her bedroom and went inside, closing it with a decisive click.
“Hmm. Wonder what bee got in her bonnet,” Derrick said, brows raised.
“Perhaps she’s feeling out of sorts in these strange surroundings.”
“Strange?” Derrick teased. “I dearly hope you’re not calling your soon-to-be husband and in-laws strange.”
She waved a hand and said, “Of course not. I meant strange as in new. New people, town, house, even the way we talk is different.”
“I like your soft twang. It reminds me of my Grandmother Nelson on my mother’s side. She came from Tennessee.”
“Ah. That explains why you fell in love with me,” she teased back.
Suddenly, his face was very serious. “Sarah, you’re sweet and innocent and care for others. I fell in love with you the very first time I saw you. And I knew that I wanted to make you my bride someday. And now that day is almost upon us.”
Sarah dearly wanted to return the sentiment. But so many doubts and worries had been flooding her mind lately. She liked Derrick and enjoyed being with him. She may not be in love with him, but surely their marriage would be a happy one as long as they respected each other, right?
“I’m counting down the hours, you know,” he said huskily.
“As am I,” she whispered. But probably not for the same reason. Their engagement period had been a strain in some ways. What Amy had said had been in jest, but there was also a ring of truth in it. She was looking forward to the time when she and Derrick wouldn’t need a chaperone every minute of the day, when she could relax by her husband’s side without interference or censure. When she didn’t have so many dress fittings and things to plan. And now with Mark and his lady friend here, that added another strain.
Just three more days.
She could do it. There was no other option at this point. As her father was so fond of saying, she’d made her bed. Now she’d have to lie in it.
***
“Where are we going?” Mark asked Felicia. He had walked her to the grand staircase, thinking she was seriously hurt or in pain over something she ate, but at the moment when he would have begun ascending with her, she grabbed his arm and quietly led him out the front door. Now they were rushing around the side of the mansion like their heels had caught on fire.
“With Mr. Baldwin,” Felicia panted before she pulled up to the carriage house. She didn’t hesitate one moment before hauling herself and Mark inside. “Mr. Baldwin, as Pinkerton agents, we’ll need to go with you to assess the damage to your storehouse goods.”
Mr. Baldwin cast them a cursory glance before hopping up into the carriage. “Well, then, get in and let’s go!”
Mark and Felicia did just that.
“You’re Grady Sandler’s daughter,” Baldwin surprised them by saying even while staring straight ahead.
Felicia gasped. “Yes. How—did you know him?”
“Played against him a couple of times . . . usually lost. That was a long time ago. Don’t gamble much anymore. At least, not in saloons.”
They left the property and were on their way to his storehouse as Mark and Felicia let his cryptic remark set in. “But you gamble in business,” Mark surmised.
“Everything in life is a risk. Gotta take an opportunity when it presents itself. You two really Pinkerton agents?” In the dim light, Mark was barely able to make out the incredulous lift of his eyebrows.
“Yes,” they both said. Felicia added, “You spoke with our boss, Archie Gordon, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I must say I was surprised when he contacted me. I’m not sure how I feel about the Packards meddling in my business, but I suppose it needed to be done. Whoever is behind all of this will rue the day he decided to terrorize my family.” A hard edge had entered his voice, and even in the dark, Mark sensed his anger and frustration at not being able to protect his loved ones.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it, sir,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, Baldwin pulled up next to a well-built structure on the opposite end of town, quite out of the way at the end of a narrow road that veered off to the side of the main thoroughfare. Mark found its obscurity quite telling. Baldwin obviously didn’t want anyone messing with his business. Not that he could blame him. This telephone operation sounded like an expensive endeavor. But whoever had broken into his storehouse had known it was here. Most people would pass right on by without being the wiser.
Baldwin let a soft curse fly. “The glass window is busted.” He hurriedly braked and tied the team to a tree, then rushed over to the window. The jagged glass framing it left an odd feeling in Mark, like there was supposed to be a picture there and it had been ripped out. Shaking off the strange thought, he followed Baldwin over to the door and waited until he unlocked the bolt and lit a lantern just inside the door. “Well, well, looky here,” Baldwin said in a low voice, holding the lantern up and slowly moving his head from side to side. “Watch your step.”
No one said anything as they took in the extensive damage. Among the shards of glass, wires were strewn everywhere. Some were cut; others were knotted. Crates had been pried open and telephone parts were either smashed or dented from throwing them across the room or perhaps stomped on with a good, heavy boot. A sick feeling entered Mark’s stomach. It must have taken a considerable amount of time for the perpetrator to accomplish all of this. Mark wondered if he’d had an accomplice.
“That blasted man!” Baldwin shouted, moving forward with his lantern, his eyes roving, jaw tight. “I’m gonna get Bloomfield if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Bloomfield, sir?” Where had Mark heard that name before?
“My competitor. Hal approached me one evening last year about an idea he had for bringing in a telephone system to Denver, only he didn’t have the financial backing to do so. Naturally, he figured I would want to jump on the bandwagon. And I did. But what he didn’t understand is that it takes time to get all the paperwork for such a large endeavor in place, and he grew impatient and found another backer before I was ready to sign a contract with him. However, now I hold the winning hand on Bloomfield.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Mark asked.
“He may have beaten me in putting up the lines in Denver, but he used inferior equipment. Mine is far better. Invented by a man named Thomas Edison. It’s been proven to produce clearer sounds and can transmit for longer distances. That imbecile!”
Baldwin went farther into the room, picking up a cut wire here and an earpiece there, silently shaking his head. For a man who undoubtedly must be used to the cutthroat world of business, and whose financial reserve probably wouldn’t suffer much from this loss, even though it would put others in the poorhouse, Mark could tell he was going into shock.
This act of vandalism was quite a vindictive—and cowardly—thing to do.
Picking up one of the wires and rolling it in his hand, Mark asked, “How do you want to handle this, sir? Do you still want to call the police in?”
“I’m going to have to.” Baldwin sighed. “Bloomfield can’t be allowed to get away with such savagery. You can bet I’ll start preparing a lawsuit against him when I get in touch with my attorney tomorrow.”
“The butler came into the dining room to summon you,” Felicia reminded him. “Who was at the door?”
“My assistant, Ned Jarvis. He came down here earlier to check on things.”
“Think it could’ve been him?” Felicia asked.
Baldwin shook his head. “Nah. He’s as loyal as the day is long.”
Mark thought they’d better interview the man, anyway. “Before you call the police in, do you mind if Felicia and I search the place for clues? Tomorrow, I mean. In broad daylight.”
Baldwin shrugged. “I suppose that’d be all right.”
“And you may want to hire a few men to guard the property.”
Mark didn’t think Baldwin’s face could get any longer. “You’re right,” he said in defeat. “I should have done that from the beginning. I was just in such an all-fired hurry to get the operation going, I didn’t think about needing extra men. This wedding, too, has thrown my mind in a dither. Truth be told, I’ll be glad when it’s over and life can settle down again.”
“Remember, Mr. Baldwin, you won’t be able to prosecute Mr. Bloomfield if you don’t find any evidence,” Felicia warned.
Tightening his jaw, and with a hard glint in his eyes, Baldwin gritted out, “Oh, we’ll find something on him, I’m sure of that.”
Mark wasn’t too sure, but he decided not to say anything more. Baldwin was riled, there was no doubt about it. Give him a chance to simmer down and maybe he’d think more clearly. It might be best to change the subject.
“Heard you had some trouble at the train station a few weeks ago when you arrived home from Virginia,” he said casually while making a show of lifting another set of wires that had been twisted together. It would take a long time to straighten them, and even then, who knew if they would be any good or do what they were made to do? Might as well start untangling them now. He gently pulled on one loop and unthreaded it from the mass but soon got stuck when the other end of it led back to the jumbled mess.
“Who told you that?” Baldwin said sharply, craning his neck to stare at Mark. Then he shook his head. “Let me guess. Packard, right?”
Did Tad Baldwin have a bone to pick with Lyle Packard or was he simply one of those businessmen who had no patience for other people and didn’t want them in their business? For the first time that he could recall, instead of feeling sorry for his own lost love, he worried for Sarah. What kind of marriage was she going to have with Derrick? Were her soon-to-be in-laws as nice as they presented themselves? Mark hadn’t missed Derrick’s smirk or snide remarks earlier. Was he jealous of Mark or was he simply the controlling kind, one who would keep his wife under lock and key? Neither possibility set well with him.
Mark answered calmly. “We were given an overview of what happened at the Pinkerton office, yes. But Felicia and I would like to hear about it from you. Secondhand knowledge isn’t nearly as good as firsthand knowledge, is it?”
“No, you’re right,” Baldwin said, his ruffled feathers falling back into place. Taking a deep breath, he admitted, “I really don’t know what happened, to tell you the truth. Hazel stepped down from the train and walked far enough ahead for me to put my feet on solid ground, then stopped. There was a commotion ahead, but I couldn’t see what was happening because of her large hat. I heard a tinkling noise and happened to look down and saw a nickel rolling toward me on its side. Only person I’ve ever seen perform a trick like that is my good friend, Wally Morrison. Didn’t see him there, though.”
He paused, and his face scrunched up as if trying to recall something. A moment later, he seemed to snap out of it. “I bent down to pick up the coin. Next thing I knew, Hazel knocked me off my feet. We had a struggle getting up but were otherwise fine.”
“What happened to the boy?” Felicia asked.
“A man in the crowd made him give the torn reticule back to the lady and apologize to her, and to us.”
“Hmm,” Mark said, lifting a finger to his chin. “And then he just walked off? His mother or father didn’t come running up to him?”
“I didn’t see where he went after that. Hazel started to give him a dressing down, and I didn’t want to make any more of a scene than we already had, so I steered her the opposite way. She was still complaining about him when we got home. But the minute we saw the children, we both forgot all about the boy.”
“Where was Derrick through all of this?” It suddenly occurred to Mark that Derrick had left Alexandria with his parents.
“Still getting off the train. He’d fallen asleep and didn’t wake up immediately.”
O-kay.
Seeing Mark’s skeptical look, he bowed up. “We all kept some pretty late hours while there with the Packards, playing cards and telling tales and such.”
And Mark hadn’t been invited to join in. Tamping down his annoyance, he changed the subject again. “Speaking of late hours, I think we’d better get back to the—house.” It felt ridiculous to call that monstrosity a mere house. “But I definitely want to come back here tomorrow morning and get a better look.”
“So do I,” agreed Felicia. “Wouldn’t it be interesting if we found someone’s blood from breaking all that glass?”
Mark wished he had thought of that. “Or a set of footprints.”
Felicia grinned. “Now you’re thinking like a detective, Agent Wilson.”
