P. Alderman - Haunting Jordan

“Yes, but I thank God I had enough caution not to reveal the location of Frank’s convalescence.”

“So what now?”

Hattie’s expression turned wry. “I believe I can count on Greeley’s rigidly held views to render him blind to the possibility that Frank might be staying here. In Greeley’s mind, I wouldn’t risk the condemnation of my neighbors by harboring a single man in my own home, particularly while I am in mourning. Though Greeley believes I lack good judgment, I doubt it would occur to him that I would so risk my reputation.”

Mona pursed her lips. “Perhaps you’re correct, though we must remain vigilant. This will be my last visit. However, I will leave my guard in place.”

“Thank you. And rest assured that I will apprise Frank of your invaluable role in this affair.”

Mona set her cup on the tray and stood to take her leave. “There is one more bit of information Booth was able to learn.”

Hattie gave her an inquiring look.

“The rumor along the waterfront is that Clive Johnson started the fire of three weeks past.”

“Yes, that corroborates what Frank told me.”

“According to what my man learned, a boardinghouse operator named Taylor refused to pay a bribe to Clive Johnson. Taylor subsequently made it known around town that he would run a boardinghouse only for union sailors. Clive Johnson burned down the boardinghouse to set an example to anyone else who might contemplate such a move. He paid a brothel patron to set the second fire for the purpose of misleading the investigators.”

She’d been correct in her supposition after all, Hattie realized.

“No doubt your business manager never dreamed the fire would spread as it did, though that certainly in no way excuses his actions,” Mona concluded.

“And I suppose there’s no proof, which means he’ll get away with having murdered the people who died as a result of the fire,” Hattie said bitterly.

“Yes, I suspect that will be true. Unless,” Mona said thoughtfully, “you could persuade a reporter for the newspaper to run a story mentioning an unnamed source?”

Hattie shook her head. “I have no credibility with Eleanor Canby on this subject. I still don’t understand, though, who would’ve felt it necessary to pressure Eleanor to run the editorial condemning me. Seavey would have had the most to lose if Johnson were arrested, but it doesn’t seem like Seavey’s style.”

“Michael Seavey can employ subtlety when it is called for,” Mona said. “Though Greeley is another possibility. He and Eleanor are good friends, and he knows what goes on between the ships’ masters and the boarding-house operators. He wouldn’t want it known that he turns a blind eye, particularly when people have died.”

Hattie brooded for a long moment. “Thank you for telling me.”

“It was the least I could do, given the great risk you are undertaking for a close friend of mine. I might point out that you seem to make a habit of doing so.”

Hattie smiled sadly. Then she leaned over and tossed the slip of paper Mona had given her into the fire. She watched in silence as it burned to ash.

“This will be the last time we speak of what we’ve learned this evening,” she said quietly. “But all actions have consequences. I will personally see that they do.”

* * *

HATTIE had no sooner seen Mona to her carriage than a loud scream had her hiking her skirts and dashing for the front hall. Tabitha stood, sobbing in Sara’s arms. The young maid’s braid had fallen into disarray, lying against her back in a snarled mess, and her eyes were wild with fear.

“Oh, Mrs. Longren!” Tabitha sobbed. “I tried my best, I did! But I couldn’t stop them!”

The Betrayal

HATTIE’S heart stopped beating. She grasped the maid’s thin shoulders and gave her a quick shake. “Calm down, Tabitha! Tell us where Charlotte is.”

“They took her!”

“Describe to me exactly what transpired,” she ordered from what felt like a great distance.

“We didn’t think there was any harm in it, you see,” Tabitha explained, her voice quavering. “We did just as you told us to—we took the note to Dr. Willoughby’s clinic. Then Charlotte …” Tabitha’s voice trailed off as she burst anew into tears.

“Tabitha!” Hattie gave her another hard shake. “If you can’t tell us what happened, we can’t get Charlotte back.”

“Yes’m,” Tabitha sniffled. “You see, Charlotte wanted an extra-nice ribbon for her dress for tomorrow evening, and so she thought we could make just the one stop on the way home.”

“At Celeste’s?”

“Yes’m. I tried to tell her you wouldn’t approve, that we should ask your permission first, but—”

“Never mind that. What happened next?”

“We went to Miss Celeste’s, like I said.” Tabitha wiped her eyes, then continued. “It was after we left the shop and were walking along the street … these two men ran out of the bushes and grabbed Miss Charlotte right off the sidewalk and dragged her into a carriage! I screamed, but there weren’t no one around, so I ran back here.” She started crying again. “It’s my fault, Mrs. Longren …”

Hattie realized her fingers were digging into the poor girl’s shoulders. She forced herself to loosen her grip. “We’ll sort all that out later,” she said, “but you acted decisively by running back to tell us. Now, this is very important, Tabitha. Can you describe the two men for me?”

“Well, they were big and they wore clothes like the men we saw on the waterfront the night of the fire.”

“So the men were sailors?”

The maid looked confused. “Their arms and legs were as big as trees, they were. And they were tall.”

“Longshoremen, possibly,” Hattie murmured. “Or lumberjacks.”

Tabitha screwed up her face. “Maybe.”

Dear God . Two men of that size easily could’ve grabbed Charlotte and put her into a carriage without risking detection, especially if they’d planned the location of the attack so that it was shielded from view by the landscaping at the entrance to an alley. The carriage could’ve been waiting just out of sight. They must’ve watched the house, then followed the girls, waiting for the right moment.

“What about the carriage?”

Tabitha’s face was blank. “I think it was black.”

“Was it a brougham carriage or a gentleman’s phaeton?”

The girl didn’t know the difference.

Hattie paced the hall, forcing air in and out of her constricted lungs. It would’ve been easier to conceal Charlotte in a carriage, but the phaeton would’ve been faster. And if they’d used chloroform, they could’ve gotten away with the phaeton—she would no longer have been struggling or screaming. God knew, chloroform could be had at any saloon along the waterfront. Either way, the vehicle could’ve been any of several available for hire from the waterfront liveries. She’d have no luck tracking it down—no one would be willing to talk to her.

She continued to pace. It was entirely possible Seavey had kidnapped Charlotte. Did he intend to use her to force Hattie to agree to his proposition, or would he smuggle Charlotte out of the country, sending her to the Far East to be used as a child prostitute? Either prospect was horrifying. She had to act, and quickly.

“My cape, Sara. I must speak to Chief Greeley at once—in this matter, he will be of assistance.” Sara quickly helped her into her wrap as she spit out orders. “Stay with Tabitha and fix her some tea to calm her nerves. Dr. Willoughby is due at any moment. When he arrives, take him upstairs. I should be back within the hour.”

With that, she flew out the door.

* * *

SHE arrived at the police station, breathless from the six-block run. Not bothering with the desk sergeant, she dashed past desks and prisoners’ cells to Greeley’s office. At her entry, he stood, his face set in rigid lines.