A Girl Like That Page 9

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “It’s okay to put yourself into the part, but try to keep it as close to the way it’s written as possible.” His eyes twinkled as he patted her shoulder and walked off.

  Katie put her hands to her burning cheeks. Oh dear. If Mr. Harrigan noticed, everyone else surely did, too. They’d surely know the reason for overplaying her role.

  She walked into the ladies’ dressing room and found it full. So much for getting out ahead of everyone.

  Giving up on her idea to avoid company, she walked back to Ma Casey’s surrounded by friends. Friends who, to her relief, didn’t mention her performance.

  A few minutes before time to return to Harrigan’s for the evening show, Katie and several other members of the troupe were relaxing in the parlor when a knock sounded on the front door. A moment later, Rosie Riley stood in the doorway. “Katie, it’s Mr. Nelson. He’s asking for you.”

  Feverish heat shot from Katie’s head all the way down to her toes. She cast about for the right words. “Tell Mr. Nelson I’ve no wish to see him.” Katie almost choked on the words. Did she really mean it?

  Rosie threw her a worried look. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Her whispered answer rang like a knell of death in Katie’s ears.

  Rosie turned and left the room, and Katie rushed to the window. So what if everyone was watching? She didn’t care.

  She peered through the lacy curtain and watched as Sam turned and walked away. Her stomach tightened. The dejected look on his face reflected the ache in her heart.

  ❧

  Sam nudged his horse, urging him toward the river. He’d spent most of the morning at Conley’s Patch talking to Flannigan’s friends and neighbors. Story after story of the man’s kindness and helpfulness to others were repeated as Sam went from house to house. The main two qualities that emerged were that Chauncey Flannigan was as honest as the day was long and that he was a hardworking man who provided for his wife. Sam also learned that the Flannigans’ only child, Patrick, had died on the boat coming over from Ireland four years ago.

  The Chicago River wove its way through the city, cutting it in two. So far, most of the fires had broken out on the other side. This side of the river was a hodgepodge of warehouses, stores, and other businesses, with a line of small frame houses where children played. Farther down, in the other direction, lay the docks where riverboats loaded and unloaded both passengers and goods to be hauled downriver. But on this stretch, Howard’s Warehouse and Lumberyard took up an entire block.

  Sam hitched his horse in front of the lumberyard and made his way through stacks of wood and piles of sawdust. The sounds of dozens of saws rang throughout the huge open-air shed.

  Two men, bending over a sawhorse, looked up as Sam approached then returned to their work. Sam cleared his throat, and they both looked up again. One middle-aged man with a beard that reached almost to his collarbone frowned. He spat and a wad of something landed by Sam’s foot. “Can I do somethin’ for you, mister?”

  Sam took a step away from the disgusting glob and shot a look at the speaker. “Maybe. If you were a witness to Chauncey Flannigan’s accident.”

  The man’s companion sent a startled look in the direction of the main warehouse.

  “Well, now,” the bearded worker drawled, “it depends. Who wants to know?”

  Sam wasn’t sure how to answer, but he decided to be forthright. “I’m representing Mr. Howard, but my main concern is to find out the truth about what happened.”

  The other worker turned and walked over to another group of men, speaking to them in hushed tones.

  The bearded man stared at Sam, working his jaw. He turned and spat. At least this time not in Sam’s direction. “I don’t reckon we saw anything.” He turned his back and headed over to the huddle of men.

  Sam stared after the old-timer. That didn’t go very well. If the men knew anything, they weren’t talking. If Sam was reading them right, they appeared more nervous than antagonistic.

  Stacks of lumber, some reaching nearly to the ceiling, stood around the shed. He eyed them as he passed through on his way to the warehouse door. There didn’t appear to be any sort of restraints on them, and although Sam had no prior experience as reference, the whole area seemed unsafe to him.

  A wide gaping door with a gate hanging in the air above served as passage for smaller stacks of lumber being carted through from the lumber shed. Sam veered to the left and went though the smaller door and into the warehouse.

  A man in a business suit looked up from a ledger he held in his hand. “Can I help you, sir? I’m Jonas Cooper, the manager.”

  Sam walked over and held out his hand, which the man took. “I’m Sam Nelson, the attorney representing Mr. Howard in the Flannigan case. I wonder if I could speak to the workers and get a clearer picture of the accident.”

  Lines appeared between the man’s eyes as he frowned. “You say you’re Howard’s attorney?”

  “That’s right.” Sam nodded.

  The man stood. “Well then, I believe you have the testimony of the witnesses here and at the tavern where Flannigan got hurt in a brawl. That’s all you need. Our men don’t have time to talk. Anyway, no one saw anything except the ones you have on record.” He rocked back on his heels and gave Sam a determined look. “I think you’d best go back to your fancy office and get to work on the case.”

  Sam gave the man a wry smile, thanked him for his time, and left through the door to the lumber shed. Mr. Howard’s foreman bore a startling resemblance to his employer. In personality at least.

  But Sam wasn’t going to be put off that easily. Turning his steps toward the lumberyard, he squared his shoulders. He had a job to do, and he was determined to get to the bottom of this situation before he was forced to accept the sworn statements of men whom he increasingly suspected of lying for the establishment.

  When he stepped into the lumber shed, he darted a look around, hoping one of the workers would change his mind and talk to him. But of one accord, they averted their gazes. Disappointed, Sam left, got into his carriage, and clicked to his horse.

  He skirted the Patch, choosing instead to go in the direction of the docks and cross the Clark Street Bridge to get to his office. He’d had enough of Conley’s Patch for today. He left his carriage at the livery and walked around to the Nelson building.

  Charlie looked up and appeared relieved to see him. He handed Sam a stack of papers six inches thick. “Your father wants you to take care of these documents. They’re in relation to a custody case he’d like for you to do some research on.” Charlie grinned. “In your spare time, of course.”

  Sam took the papers and locked them in his file cabinet then headed for his father’s office. The custody case could wait until later.

  It was time he and his father had another talk. Something wasn’t right at Howard’s warehouse. And he had a hunch it involved Chauncey Flannigan’s accident. Sam wouldn’t make a decision without facts, but his intuition told him Howard and his witnesses were lying about the accident.

  And after their talk, Sam intended to make another attempt to see Katie.

  Twelve

  Katie almost gasped when she came out onstage for her solo and saw Sam, first row, center seat, as though he hadn’t missed a single show. She felt her heart pounding, and from the way his eyes brightened, he’d noticed the effect his presence had on her, too. The grin he tried to hide sent her pulse racing. And her number tonight was a love ballad. How in the world was she going to get through it?

  The first note was a little shaky, but Katie managed to relax her throat and sing without choking. However, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep her eyes from drifting his way before she left the stage. Warmth washed over her at the expression in his brown eyes. So convincing. If he wasn’t in love with he
r, he should have been on the stage himself.

  She hurried to change into the maid costume. Every time a noise sounded by the door, she started. She hurried into her costume and headed back to the stage wings, dragging Bridget with her. “Look and see if he’s still there.” The panic in her voice matched what she felt.

  Bridget tiptoed out onstage and peeked through a crack in the curtain then drew back and walked softly across to Katie, who had twisted her handkerchief so tightly it left marks on her hands. “He’s there all right. And starin’ right at the stage as though he can see straight through the curtains.”

  Katie leaned toward Bridget, and the girl grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “Here now, don’t you go a-faintin’.”

  “I won’t.” Katie took a deep breath and steadied herself. She knew if she messed up during the performance, Mr. Harrigan wouldn’t trust her with a bigger part later. Not that she cared very much at the moment. She simply wanted to get through the show and back to the dressing room. Would he come? And if he did, should she see him?

  Katie played her part, saying her one line without a mistake. But by the time the play was over, her curls were plastered to her forehead.

  After the show, she hurried back to the dressing room, got into her street clothes, and removed her makeup, listening all the while for a knock at the door.

  Thirty minutes later, everyone had cleared out except for Katie and Bridget, who refused to look her in the eye.

  Katie stood. “Well, that’s that.”

  “We could wait a little longer, if you’re wantin’ to.”

  “No, if he was coming, he’d have been here long ago. Let’s go home.” Katie trudged down the hallway, beside Bridget, to the performers’ entrance. She pushed open the door and stopped in her tracks.

  A tall form leaned against the building. Even in the darkness she recognized him.

  Stepping through the door, she waited for Bridget to follow her. Her friend’s sharp intake of breath revealed that she’d seen him, too.

  He removed his top hat and stepped in front of the girls. “Miss O’Shannon, Miss Thornton.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Nelson,” Bridget stammered and curtsied.

  Katie remained silent, her eyes lowered. She was pretty sure she couldn’t have spoken if her life depended on it.

  “Miss Thornton, I had the honor of meeting your mother and sister yesterday.”

  “Oh, did me mum seem well to ya?” The eagerness in Bridget’s voice revealed her concern at being away from her family.

  “They both seemed quite well. I met them at the Flannigans’ when I was visiting there.”

  Katie jerked her head up. “You went to see Mr. Flannigan again?”

  “Yes. If you’ll permit me to see the two of you home, I’d like to talk to you about it.” He smiled. “As well as other things.”

  Katie bit her lip then lifted her eyes and looked into his. “I’m not sure that would be wise.”

  “I promise to leave without protest whenever you ask.” His sincere gaze set her heart to pounding again.

  “Oh, Katie, what can it hurt?” Bridget piped up. “I for one would rather ride than walk. My feet are killing me.”

  Katie threw Bridget a sideways glance. Her friend wasn’t fooling her a bit. Grateful to her for making it easier to accept Sam’s offer, she nodded.

  “Very well, Mr. Nelson. I don’t suppose there’s any harm in accepting a ride.” She blushed as he offered one arm to her and the other to Bridget.

  The ride to Ma Casey’s was a little uncomfortable as Sam had put both girls in front and she was squeezed close to his side. The very idea. He did that on purpose. She pressed her lips together as she felt a smile coming on.

  They pulled up in front of the boardinghouse, and as soon as Sam had helped Bridget down, she yawned and said she was going to bed. Before Katie’s shoes hit the pavement, the front door had closed behind her friend.

  Katie and Sam sat on the wicker chairs on the porch, and she listened, mesmerized, as he related the incident with O’Hooley and then his talk with Flannigan. She could see that although he said he hadn’t totally decided on his course of action, his heart knew the truth.

  “I’ve spoken to my father about conditions in the Patch. I think he believes I’m exaggerating, but at least he’s agreed to ride over with me tomorrow and take a look for himself. I don’t know how much good he could do, but he does have some influence in the city.”

  “What about Mr. Flannigan? Are you still going to represent his employer?” She held her breath as she waited.

  “Father is adamant that he won’t drop the case without proof that Howard and his witnesses are lying.”

  “Well, can’t you take Mr. Flannigan’s case yourself?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t go against my father. But I promise I’ll do everything in my power to uncover the truth.”

  It wasn’t until Katie was lying in her soft feather bed that she realized the matter of his not inviting her to meet his family was still unresolved. She flopped over onto her side. Next time she saw him, she’d ask him right out. She had to know if Sam was ashamed of her for being on the stage. Or even for being half Irish.

  ❧

  The carriage dipped and swayed over the dry, rutted streets of the Patch. Neither Sam nor his father had spoken since they’d entered the filthy shantytown. Stealing a glance at his father, Sam noticed his mouth was tight and the creases at the corners of his eyes were deeper than usual. Sure signs that he was disturbed.

  They turned onto Flannigan’s street. As they neared his house, Sam turned to his father. “The last time I was here, a little girl fell into that sewer.” Sam paused then added for effect, “I jumped in after her.”

  “What?” The astonishment on his father’s face spurred Sam on. “Yes, Flannigan gave me clean water to wash with and his Sunday suit to wear home. His wife gave me Irish stew.”

  “You ate with these people?” Sam thought he may have revealed too much. His father’s face had reddened, and a vein protruded at his temple.

  “Calm down, Father. Their home is spotless.” As an afterthought, he added, “And the soup was very good.”

  “Do you realize you’re not supposed to fraternize with the enemy?”

  “The Flannigans are hardly the enemy, Father, and I was merely attempting to discover the truth. If you want the truth, I am sure Howard is lying. And so are his so-called witnesses.”

  “Sam, you do realize if you continue down this route, I’ll have to remove you from this case.” He glared. “Promise me you’ll stay away from Flannigan.”

  “Father, you’re an honest man. I can’t believe you don’t want me to search for the truth.”

  “I’ve told you before. If you can bring me proof Howard’s lying, I’ll send him packing. But as long as he remains our client, we’re honor bound to do what we can to win this case for him.”

  “Very well, Father. I’ll find you that proof.”

  “I’ve seen enough. Turn around and let’s get back to the office. This place is a disgrace, no doubt about that. But I don’t see what I can do about it. And we’ve both got work to do.”

  Sam complied, and they drove back to the Nelson building in silence. He knew his father wouldn’t take him off the case. But he didn’t like being at odds with him over anything.

  He pulled up in front of the office to drop his father off before driving the carriage to the livery. As he watched his father step onto the sidewalk, he noticed for the first time the older man moved more slowly than before. He’d never thought of his father getting old.

  Eugene stepped out onto the sidewalk, put his hand on the side of the carriage to steady himself, and peered up at Sam. “Put Davis on it. I’ll give you two weeks.”

  Elated, Sam leaned over and grabb
ed his hand. “Thanks, Father. If I don’t find anything by then, I promise I’ll drop the subject and represent Howard to the best of my ability.”

  Eddy Davis had done work for the Nelson firm before. When they needed investigative work done behind the scenes, so to speak. Sam drove to a livery down near the Clark Street Bridge, left his horse and carriage, and then set out on foot to a small dive down by the docks.

  Even on this sunny afternoon, Sam had to stop just inside the door of Gert’s Club until his eyes could adjust to the dark. The smoky cabaret was almost half full even this early. Sam crossed the small dance floor and rounded the corner by the counter. A door in back led to a line of offices. He tapped on the door of the last one and entered a tiny, cluttered room.

  Eddy Davis sat with his feet propped up on a mammoth desk. “Hey, Sam. Haven’t seen you in years.” He swung his feet off the desk and stood, reaching his arm out.

  Sam shook his hand and grinned. “It’s only been two months, Eddy.”

  “Oh yeah. That divorce case. Some old bird’s young wife cheatin’ on him.” He slammed his hand on the desk. “So, what can I do for you?”

  Sam picked a piece of paper and a pencil from Eddy’s desk and wrote Howard’s name. He slipped the paper across to Eddy.

  In spite of the shady accommodations and Eddy’s less-than-respectable appearance, Sam knew he was professional and thorough on the job. And one of the best-kept secrets in Chicago. You had to know someone who knew someone to obtain Eddy’s services.

  The man glanced at the name and whistled. Placing both hands on his desk, he leaned over and raised both eyebrows. “This ain’t no cheatin’ wife case.”

  Sam shook his head. “I need everything you can find on him. Past and present. And I need it fast.”

  Eddy whistled again. “This is heavy stuff, Sammy boy.”

  “You’ll be well paid.”

  “Yeah. If I’m around to spend it.”

  Sam laughed. “You’re kidding, of course.”

  Silence fell on the room. Heavy. Ominous. Could there really be danger?