Griffin waited for McCumbler to leave before he dared tell Chief Kohler of the ring’s being lost to the big man’s stomach.
From just outside the door, as McCumbler stopped to ad-just his glasses before negotiating the stairs, he heard Kohler’s gargantuan bellow, a stretched-out Nooooooo streaming through the closed door.
He wondered what it might be about when he heard Kohler repeatedly shout the name Ransom. McCumbler knowingly smiled.
“I had thought, and happily so, that you were finished with this . . . this disguise of yours,” Ransom said on catching up to Dr. Tewes at a cabstand. Several well-fed horses stood harnessed at Union Station.
“Come now, Inspector. Certainly, at times you must use disguises in your line of work—when it suits your purpose?”
Concentrating on her eyes and trying to ignore her mustache, Ransom replied, “Yes, I’ve used disguises in my work, but Jane . . . what more purpose can this serve you now?”
She backed to within inches of a horse at the cabstand.
The horse reacted instinctively, nuzzling her into Ransom’s arms. They had a laugh over this when Alastair caught her.
To passersby and to anyone standing nearby, they seemed a pair of men quite infatuated with one another. Realizing this, Alastair quickly pulled away.
“Do you know how it’s going to look when all comes to light?”
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“It might begin to chip away at that brute image you’ve maintained.”
“That image has saved my life on occasion.”
“I’m sure I’d faint to hear just how.”
“You failed to answer my question.”
“The horse did not like the question.”
He repeated it. “What more purpose can your disguise serve you? A beautiful woman like you?”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Deflect the question.”
She stepped away from him and sat on a street bench. Busy people passed in and out of the train station. Ransom hovered and, out of one eye, he saw the cab at the front of the line begin its journey. This set off a domino effect, as each horse-drawn cab moved up one space in the line of seven, the exchange creating a soothing cadence of hooves against brick-laid road.
He wanted to hold her hand, but not like this . . . not so long as she looked the part of a man.
“Do you have any idea how long it would’ve taken me, as a woman, to interest Mr. Malachi McCumbler in taking Philo’s case? So, being Dr. Tewes, he hopped right out of his seat and came.”
“OK, point taken.”
“And walking into a police station, a lone woman? I’d likely have been taken for a prostitute complaining of being robbed by my—”
“All right, point taken. Now I’ll be needing my ring back.”
“Your ring? What ring?”
“In your pocket.”
She reached in, found the ring, and lifted it to the light.
“It’s beautiful.”
“They found it somehow in Philo’s possession. Merielle had promised under no circumstance to ever part with it, and CITY FOR RANSOM
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the last time I saw her alive, she had it on, and next they find it in Philo’s pocket.”
“What?”
“Made me, for a moment, believe Keane murdered my Mere, the way Kohler sprung it.”
“Nathan’s good at that.”
“Sure is. Hey, look . . . I wanna thank you for the other night when you eased my pain.”
“Easing a headache, ahhh . . . that’s nothing. To ease a broken heart, now there . . . anyone capable of that will make a fortune and have patients galore. Have I told you how very sorry Gabby and I are for your loss? It was evident you loved Merielle.” “I’ve arranged for a small wake—Donegan’s on Halsted, tomorrow night. If you can be there.”
“If you’re sure you want me.”
“As yourself, yes . . . not the doctor. He will be unwelcome.”
He placed the diamond ring onto his pinky finger. “Won it in a card game,” he lied, “same as Polly Pete. Thought she and it belonged together.”
“How’d Keane come by it?”
“Philo was in no condition to discuss it; he thinks she slipped it to him on the sly, something about repaying a debt.”
“Keane seems to value your friendship.” Jane lifted his hand, again examining the ring’s beauty in the sun when a dark cloud came over. “A lovely setting. This could have purchased a lot of photographic plates, film, even a new camera.” “He came the other evening with his newest baby in hand, talked nonstop about it, but when he saw the victim was someone he cared for—”
“The Mandor girl?”
“Yes, dropped his new camera, fell to his knees. It proved the start of this trouble for him, that show of weakness.”
“Like when the vultures threw you in the Bridewell?”
“Thanks again for getting me out.”
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She ignored this. “Right now our getting him out of that cell takes priority. I’m sure McCumbler will be successful, and we’ll buy Keane’s freedom.”
“What is all this we talk? We’ve got a problem . . . and we buy his freedom?”
“I want to help you, Alastair.”
“And why is that?”
“Because, damn you, I just want to.”
“Why?”
“Who knows?”
He looked long into her eyes, until waiting cabbies began staring. “I want to see Dr. Jane Francis open a practice here in Chicago and soon . . . and an end to Dr. James Phineas Tewes for good and all.” She smiled wide, the mustache curling. “I hear a rumor that Tewes has plans to return to New York.”
“Yes, I’ve heard the rumor clackin’ about. To catch a frigate to California, start anew there.”
“In time . . . in time, Alastair.”
A cloud burst released a silver rain that suddenly began pelting them. Together, they stepped into the nearest cab and trundled in through the swinging door not built for Ransom’s size. Once inside, laughing, he reached over and informed her that her makeup had begun to run. She leaned into him, preparing to accept a kiss as his large hand touched her cheek, his gentleness causing her pulse to race. But he patted down her mustache instead, telling her, “I’d kiss you if it weren’t for the whiskers.” He laughed. After a moment, she laughed. Curious of their laughter, the coachman opened his small window on the cab to study his passengers.
Ransom reacted to the sliding door as it opened, staring back at a pair of eyes that he only half recognized, unable to place. The eyes of the coachman proved most certainly familiar but somehow out of place, out of time.
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to?” Water dripped in from the open panel that looked out on the coachman’s seat. The sound of an unhappy horse up there came through with the rainwater.
“To the Palmer House, my good fellow,” announced Ransom, and to Jane he added, “where we’ll drink and dine and—”
“No, no! It’s no time for that! Take me straight ’way to my Belmont office. From there, Inspector Ransom can give you his destination.”
She hadn’t given the young fellow an address, and Ransom asked her about this.
“He knows where Dr. Tewes lives. Most everyone this far north knows where he lives.”