Molly stilled and took a step toward the door. “I were her personal maid when she married Mr. Eaton.”
“So you knew her better than anyone else in the house,” Addie said. “Who was her friend Inez?”
Molly’s dark eyes looked Addie over. “How are you knowing these things, miss?”
Addie wished she could reveal it all, but did she dare? She’d felt a kindred spirit in Molly, but would the maid be quick to run to Mr. Eaton with the news?
“I found a letter in the desk,” she said finally. “From Inez.”
Molly’s palpable tension eased. “Mrs. Inez Russell. They was best friends.”
“Does Mrs. Russell still live here?” Addie asked, a plan beginning to form.
“That she does. Her husband is the haberdasher, and they live on Ferndale Street. She doesn’t come here no more, but I sometimes see her at the market, and she always says hello.”
“I saw a picture of Laura Eaton. She was lovely.”
“She was, miss. And just as lovely inside. Always laughing and quick to help others. She volunteered at the hospital two days a week, even over Mr. Eaton’s objections.” She put her hand to her mouth. “I’m talking too much.” She started toward the door.
“Please don’t go, Molly. I’m very interested.”
The woman stopped and turned back to Addie. “It don’t matter now. Miss Laura has been dead and gone nearly twenty-three years.”
Addie bit back the confession that bubbled up. “She had a child, didn’t she?”
Molly nodded. “Little Julia. She were the sweetest baby ever borned. Red curls, dimples. Hardly never cried.”
“Did you care for her?”
“Miss Laura hardly let anyone touch that child. No wet nurse, no nanny. She doted on that baby.”
The hollow space in Addie’s chest grew. The dim memory of soft hands and a sweet voice singing a lullaby was all she had. “She sounds quite lovely.”
“Miss Laura didn’t deserve—” Molly bit her lip and turned toward the door.
“Didn’t deserve what, Molly? To die?”
“Don’t say nothing to Mr. Eaton about my big mouth,” Molly said in a low voice. “He’d fire me on the spot for gossiping like this.” She stepped into the hall and pulled the door shut behind her.
What had Molly meant to say? It would have been easy enough to say Laura didn’t deserve to die, but Addie sensed the maid’s words had nothing to do with Laura Eaton’s death. If only she had more letters. Addie had checked every drawer, and all were now empty.
Edward tugged on her sleeve. “Teacher?”
She smiled at the child. “Are you hungry, Edward?”
He shook his head. “I have to go potty.”
“All right. Wash your hands when you’re done, and I’ll fix you a snack.”
He nodded and tugged the heavy door open by himself. Addie studied the desk. She’d heard of such things as hidden drawers. Could this little desk have something like that? She pulled out the chair and seated herself in front of the desk, then opened the cabinet doors to reveal the drawers. No matter how much she pressed and tugged, the top drawers contained nothing but the velvet lining. She took out each one and checked to see that the bottom of the inside matched up with the outside. No hiding spaces here.
The remaining large drawer was what it seemed as well. She pulled it out and examined the bottom. Nothing. Before she put it away, she peered inside the cavity, but it was too dark to see much but the back. She ran her hand into the opening and traced the shape of it with her fingertips. She touched a small slit. She caught her breath and leaned forward to try to see better. If only she had more light. She managed to wedge a fingernail into the crack and tugged. It flexed but didn’t open. She needed a letter opener or something with more leverage. There was nothing useful in the schoolroom, but she’d seen a letter opener in Mr. Eaton’s den.
She heard Edward coming back down the hall, so she quickly slid the drawer back into place and shut the desk doors. It would be hours before she could check this again.
John paused outside the Pinkerton’s branch office on the corner of Ocean Boulevard and Ferndale Street. He’d never hired a detective before, and he wasn’t eager to have to do it now. He squared his shoulders and pulled open the door.
A man stood at a set of filing cabinets. A large desk took up most of the rest of the space in the room. “Good afternoon,” he said. “May I help you?”
“I certainly hope so,” John said, closing the door behind him.
The place smelled of cigars. He put his hands in his pockets. “I need an investigation run on a young woman.”
The man shook his hand. “Nathan Everest,” he said. “Have a seat.” He indicated the wood chair across from the desk.
“John North.” John released Everest’s hand and seated himself on the chair.
“Ah, Mr. Eaton’s son-in-law.” Everest moved to the other side of the desk and sat down. He pulled a sheet of paper to him and picked up a fountain pen. “Let me just get some information. The subject’s name?”
Addie’s face flashed into his mind. Was this the right thing to do? His instincts indicated she’d told him the truth about why she was here, but if he was going to protect her and Edward, he had to know more.
“Sir? The name?”
He collected himself. This would be best for everyone. “Adeline Sullivan. She came from Crescent City. I think her father was the lightkeeper up at Crescent City. It’s called Battery Point. He’s dead now, and her mother took over the station.”
“Any other information on Miss Sullivan? Birth date, any other particulars you are aware of?”
“She’s in her midtwenties, I’d guess. Right now she resides at the Eaton manor.”
“What is it you suspect the young lady to be guilty of?”
“Nothing really,” John said. “I just want to know more about her.”
“Has she committed a crime?”
“Not to my knowledge. Though since her arrival at the manor, Walter Driscoll was attacked, and so was she. Also, someone attempted to kidnap my son this morning.”
Everest’s hand paused with the pen. “Do you need a bodyguard for the family?”
“I think that’s been arranged. How soon do you think you’ll have some information for me?”
“I have a man up that way. I’ll place a call. I should have some preliminary findings in a few hours. Stop by the office in the afternoon and I’ll tell you what I’ve learned. Will that suit?”
“Perfectly.” John rose and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you for your discretion.”
“That’s my middle name. Our business is between us only.” Everest walked him to the door.
Back in the sunshine, John walked on toward Henry’s offices. The transaction had left him feeling slightly unclean, though the man was pleasant and obviously competent. Pinkerton’s reputation was of the highest quality. The franchise employed more investigators and guards than any other agency in the nation—some said they employed more men than the United States Army! With such a network, the agent would be able to dig out any information to be found.
At the Mercy Steamboats office, John ducked inside to ensure Henry had a bodyguard on the scene. Mrs. O’Donnell had the telephone earpiece to the side of her head and waved him past, so he walked down the hall to Henry’s office.
A few feet from the office door, he heard a man say, “You won’t like the consequences if I don’t get my money.”
Henry’s shout carried loudly to John’s ears. “I don’t care what you do. This is not my problem. Now, get out of here.”
“There are scary things that happen in the world, Eaton. Even children can get hurt.”
“What?” Henry’s voice rose. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. Consider yourself warned.”
Moments later, a seedy-looking man in a rumpled jacket nearly bumped into John. The man’s eyes glared from above a nose that appeared to have been broken many tim
es. When he brushed past, John caught a glimpse of a gun under his jacket. He’d seen some shady organized-crime individuals in the city, and his intuition vibrated at the roughness of the man.
John couldn’t imagine that his father-in-law would get involved with organized crime. When John poked his head into the office, he found Henry standing at the window and staring out over the bustling street. “Who was that man?” he asked.
Henry turned with a scowl on his face. “Nothing to be concerned about.”
“It sounded as though he were trying to extort money from you.”
Henry snorted. “It will be a cold day in purgatory when I give money to the likes of him.” His expression cleared, and he dropped into his chair. “What brings you to town, son?”
“I wondered if you’d arranged for the Pinkerton agent. I’d thought to do it if you didn’t have time.”
“I made arrangements as soon as I arrived. The man should be at my estate by now.”
John’s brow puckered. “Could the fellow who was just here have had anything to do with Edward’s attempted kidnapping?”
“I’d wondered about that myself, which was the only reason I spoke with him.”
“And what was your conclusion?”
Henry picked up a pipe and chewed on the end of it. “Frankly, I don’t know, but I mean to get to the bottom of it.” He turned a genial smile on John. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m in need of your assistance.”
John had learned to be wary of Henry’s congeniality. “In what way?”
“The bank is all a muddle. My manager quit without giving notice and left the books in a sorry state. I need someone with organizational skills to get it straightened out. Now that you’ve been here a few days, I’m hoping you’re a bit bored and wouldn’t mind helping me out with it. It shouldn’t take you more than a few days.”
“I manage supplies for the navy. I’m not a banker.”
“But you know numbers and how things have to match up. You’re an excellent manager. You could whip this into shape in no time. In the meantime, I would be interviewing applicants for the job.”
John considered the request. He was intrigued, because working at the bank might give him the opportunity to find out what was behind the attempted extortion he’d just overheard, which might lead to whoever had dared to lay hands on his son.
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll help you out for a few weeks, but I have no intention of staying here permanently.”
“Excellent! Let’s head over there now, and I’ll explain the job.” He held up his hand when John opened his mouth. “I understand it’s temporary, but I’m very appreciative of your assistance. Come along.”
John followed him across the street and down one block to the bank. He followed Henry past the wooden counter to the hall of offices. Henry pulled out a stack of ledgers, then launched into an explanation of logging deposits and verifying withdrawals that left John’s head spinning. He jotted everything down and followed Henry to the vault, where he explained the procedures for locking it up at night. By the time his first training session was completed, it was nearly five.
“Come along, son. I’ll give you a ride home.”
John had seen nothing that would explain the stranger’s demand on his father-in-law, but he meant to find out.
EIGHTEEN
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Addie worked until ten on Mrs. Eaton’s dress. Just before bedtime last night she had requested this afternoon off so she could go see her mother, and she had much to accomplish before noon. The basic outline of the gown hung on a mannequin, waiting to be finished. Cream lace overlaid the lilac silk that Addie had drawn up into an empire waistline. More lace fluttered from the V-neck to frame Mrs. Eaton’s face and peeked from a cutout in the side of the gown and from under the hem.
The sophistication matched Mrs. Eaton’s style, and the older woman was delighted with it. She’d also asked Addie to create a seaside dress and hat for the yacht race coming up in a few weeks, as well as several merry widow hats and a lingerie hat. It would be challenging to find the time to do all her benefactress wanted and still attend to Edward. She wished she’d never admitted to making her own dresses and hats.
Addie left Gideon in the schoolroom with Edward, who was copying his letters with a fat pencil. Mrs. Eaton had sent a request for her to come to the salon to discuss the final details on her dress. The telephone rang as Addie passed it in the hall. No one came running, so she picked up the candlestick phone and detached the earpiece. “Eaton Manor,” she said into the mouthpiece.
A young woman’s voice spoke in her ear. “This is Central. Mr. Eaton’s secretary asked me to call and tell him she’d made the arrangements for his trip to Fort Bragg.”
“Fort Bragg.”
“He goes there twice a year,” the friendly voice said. “Though it’s a little sooner than usual this fall.”
Addie smiled. “You must know everything, working for the switchboard.”
“Oh, honey, the things I hear,” the girl said.
“I’ll tell him,” Addie said.
“Are you new there?” the woman asked. “I don’t recognize your voice.”
“I’m Addie Sullivan, the new governess.”
“Oh, so you’re Addie. I’ve heard a lot about you. I overheard Mrs. Eaton tell Countess Bellingham that you make the most divine hats.” The girl’s voice grew eager.
“I rather like making them,” Addie admitted. “From the time I was a little girl, I was making up hats with the bark from trees and ferns.”
“I quite adore hats. I’m Katie Russell.”
Russell. “Are you related to Inez Russell?” Addie asked, curling her fingers tightly around the phone.
“She’s my mother. How do you know her?”
“Someone mentioned her name. She used to be friends with the first Mrs. Eaton.”
“That’s right. I’ve heard her talk of Laura.” There was a pause. “Oh dear, I have to go. The switchboard is going crazy. I’d like to meet you sometime, Addie.”
“Nice to meet you, Katie.” The phone clicked off before Addie could say good-bye.
She hung the earpiece back and set the phone on the stand. So Mrs. Eaton had been talking about her. Maybe she could use the contact with Katie to meet Inez Russell.
Carriages and buggies crowded the street, and Addie craned her neck to look to her heart’s content. With no one along, she was free to express her wonder at all the people, shops, and excitement. It was a far cry from her former isolated life. Today she could forget that Friday was Henry’s birthday ball. She dreaded having to appear.
Her afternoon off stretched in front of her with all the anticipation she used to feel waiting for her father to come from the mainland with a promised Hershey’s bar. So many shops to browse through, so many plate-glass windows to gawk at!
She could try to find the Russell house.
Her anticipation died at the thought of walking up to a stranger’s door and asking questions. She’d rather forget her past and enjoy the day, but the nudging desire wouldn’t go away. Was it from God? She’d learned to listen to such promptings.
“Fine, God, I’ll do it,” she muttered. But how? All she knew was they lived on Ferndale Street. She stopped the buggy in the parking lot of the mercantile. Someone here might direct her. Lashing the reins to a hitching post, she walked across the parking lot to the side door as a man exited.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Could you direct me to Ferndale Street?”
The man pushed his straw hat to the back of his head. His moonround face was pleasant, with hazel eyes. “Sure, miss, it’s the next crossroad to the south. It only goes right, toward the water. You looking for a particular house?”
“The Russell home?”
He nodded. “It’s the last one on the road. Overlooks the sea. Big, gray one.”
She thanked him and went back to her buggy. Driving down Ferndale Street, she noticed the houses were large and comfortable but not as lav
ish as Eaton Manor. The buggy slowed as the horse struggled through the potholes along the macadam road. At the top of the hill, she could see all the way out to the sea and could even catch a glimpse of the Mercy Falls Lighthouse.
Her mother was there by now. A stone lodged in her midsection at the thought of facing Josephine’s disapproving stare again. She was going to have to go see her this afternoon too.
The last house was on the right. A large gray Victorian with white shutters and an L-shaped porch, the home hunkered amid a few straggly shrubs and trees. The salt and wind prevented the manicured look of the Eaton residence. She turned the horse into the dirt lane and sat there a moment trying to summon the courage to go to the door.
How would she announce she’d come to learn about Laura Eaton? What possible excuse could she give for her curiosity? “You’ll have to give me the words, Lord,” she whispered, clambering down from the buggy.
She smoothed her gloves and squared her shoulders before approaching the beckoning red door. A seagull squawked overhead and swooped low over evergreen huckleberry. Maybe they weren’t home. She planted her foot on the steps and marched to the door. There was no bell, so she rapped with the knocker. Moments later she heard the sound of light footsteps.
A young woman about her age opened the door. Dressed in a light-gray skirt and white pin-tucked blouse, she wore a smile that welcomed Addie. Her dark hair was in a fashionable pompadour. Very Gibson Girlish.
One brow lifted. “Hello. May I help you?” Her eyes darted over Addie’s shoulder to the buggy.
“I’m Addie Sullivan.”
The woman’s blue eyes widened along with her smile. “Addie! We spoke on the phone this morning. I’m Katie. Come in.” She opened the door wider. “I assume Mrs. Eaton sent you? She could have called, but I’m so glad you came instead.”
Were they expecting a message from the Eatons? “Not exactly,” she said. Oh, she shouldn’t have come.
“Mama will be so pleased you’ve come by.”
Addie stepped onto the wood floor. A staircase in the entry rose to the second story. There was a doorway off the hall on both sides, and one at the back.