An Agent for Pearl Read online

  “Oh, that,” Pearl said. “Zeke Preston left it.”

  “I hope he doesn’t mind if I read it. Archie squirrels off to his office with the paper and I rarely get a chance to review it the day it is delivered. Sometimes the news is already a week old by the time I see it!” Marianne gave a little laugh. She placed her cup aside and picked up the paper, opening it to the articles inside. As Marianne read the paper, Pearl filled the dishes with hot fluffy rice and the chicken curry. She picked up the dishes and carried them into the dining area.

  “Oh, Pearl!” Marianne called. “Come listen to this.” Pearl walked back into the kitchen and stood at the door to listen. “The Chattanooga Stove Company is looking for the best cooks across America! Competitions will be held in several major cities, with the final competition to be held in Denver, Colorado. The grand-prize winner will receive a brand-new Chattanooga range, complete with four burners, two ovens and a broiler. In addition, they will receive a cash prize of fifteen dollars and have their winning recipes featured in a cookbook called Family Dinners to be published in 1873. Several other prizes include new cooking utensils, a year’s supply of spices, and cash awards.” Marianne laid the paper aside. “You should enter, Pearl.”

  “Me?” Pearl shook her head. “I don’t cook for anyone.”

  Marianne stood and walked over, laying her hands upon Pearl’s shoulders. Marianne had to lean up a bit, as she was very petite compared to Pearl’s tall frame.

  “You cook for us, Pearl. You cook for your parents. Everyone loves your dinners and desserts. Weren’t you just saying that you wanted a brand-new stove?”

  “The one we have here is fine,” Pearl replied.

  “What about for your house?”

  “I don’t cook much at my parent’s anymore.”

  “What about your own home?”

  “I don’t have one, Marianne. I’ll be living with my parents until the end of time.”

  Marianne gave a little laugh. “No, you won’t. Fifteen dollars would be nice toward a new home, don’t you think?”

  Pearl let visions of a small farm cottage surrounded by land enter her mind. She could see herself on the porch with light haired children running in the grass. She looked at Marianne, who was smiling at her hopefully. “It is a nice dream,” Pearl said, moving away. “But it is just that. A dream.”

  Pearl pulled the pies from the oven and put them next to the cakes to cool.

  “Don’t you dream, Pearl?”

  Pearl shuddered. Yes, she did, but she wouldn’t tell anyone what she dreamed about. Most of her dreams were about a southern agent with a twang in his voice and eyes the color of coffee. She would never tell anyone what she dreamed about. Instead, she stood and looked Marianne straight in the eyes.

  “Dreams are for other women. Those that have a future.”

  “But…,” Marianne started. She was interrupted as a pair of agents made their way into the kitchen. Pearl took the opportunity to move towards the door.

  “Dinner is on the table. I’ll get the milk and be right in.” She could hear Archie’s and Zeke’s voices as they moved into the dining room.

  She watched as Marianne and the two agents moved to the dining area and sat down. Pearl quickly tore the article regarding the contest from the paper and shoved it in her apron pocket. The rest of the paper she folded up neatly and put in the trash by the door.

  She could hear the men fidgeting in the dining room. Grabbing a pitcher of cool milk from the icebox, she forced a smile and walked in to have dinner with her friends.

  Chapter 2

  Zeke walked into the dining room and spied Pearl sitting at the table with a newspaper clipping in her hands.

  “Whatcha readin’, darlin’?” he asked.

  Pearl’s eyes flew up to meet his and she slid the paper under the table as if hiding it from him. It took a moment for her to speak.

  “N-n-nothing,” she stammered. He knew Pearl didn’t have a stutter, but each time he asked her anything, she became as nervous as a cat in a room full of rockers.

  “It didn’t look like nothin’.” Zeke sat down at the table opposite her. She was one of the most unusual women he had ever met.

  She was tall, even towering over some of the agents. She reminded Zeke of the tall grass in Texas, where he was from. Slender, pale with tufts on the top. Right now, Pearl’s pale hair was up in some type of contraption that wasn’t holding it very well. It stood out in all directions, much like the seeds on that golden Texas grass.

  Albino. That is the term he heard applied to her. That and ghost… but Archie didn’t like that term. He was quick to correct anyone that might speak derogatorily about his beloved cook.

  Her skin was pale without blemish and she had translucent blue eyes that almost appeared violet surrounded by light lashes. She must have put a bit of rouge on her lips as they popped against her skin. She pulled her lower lip in and sucked on it a moment before pursing them tightly.

  “Did you need something, Mr. Preston?”

  Zeke’s eyebrows shot up. Pearl never referred to him by his formal name. Now that he thought about it, she never actually called him anything at all.

  “Who is walking you home tonight?” he asked.

  “Thomas. He had a quick meeting with Mr. Gordon and then he was going to escort me.”

  Zeke noticed her cloak and bag on the chair next to her. He saw Thomas, one of the newer agents, head into Archie’s office. Archie closed the door, which signaled to Zeke they might be in there a while. Thomas wasn’t a bad fellow, there was just something about him that Zeke couldn’t put his finger on.

  “I’ll walk you home.”

  “That’s not necessary. I can wait.” Pearl slid the paper into her bag.

  “What’s the article?” he asked pointing to her bag.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It must be important if you are keeping it.”

  “If you must know, it is a contest.”

  Zeke leaned forward on his elbows. “What type of contest?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Why so secretive, Miss Bolton?”

  “I’m not. I would never enter it, so there is no point talking about it.”

  “Is it a beauty contest?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

  “Absolutely not!” Pearl exclaimed, moving items around in her bag. “I would never enter a beauty contest.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there is no point in putting myself out there for ridicule.”

  “Why would they ridicule you?”

  Pearl stopped for a moment. “If you can’t figure that out, Mr. Preston, then maybe Mr. Gordon should rethink making you a detective.”

  “You are wrong,” he said softly. “You’d put those other women to shame.”

  “I am not beautiful.”

  “You have something more than just external beauty. You are beautiful inside. Just look how you were willing to risk everything for the people you love.”

  Pearl looked back in her bag and started to move things around once more. “I should probably just get home. I’m sure the nurse is waiting for me to arrive so she can leave.”

  “How’s your father?”

  Pearl stopped rummaging and placed her hands on the table. “Much better, thank you. I’m indebted to you for helping.”

  Zeke stood and pushed back his chair. “Just part of the job, ma’am,” he said, pretending to tip an invisible hat in her direction. “Let’s get you home.” He walked around the table and picked up her coat, holding it out towards her.

  Pearl turned her back towards him and slid her arms into the sleeves of the summer coat. Zeke closed his eyes and let the scent of roses fill his senses. How could she be cooking all day and still smell like a flower in bloom?

  As Zeke lifted her coat to her shoulders, his fingertips brushed against the hair falling on her neck. As he felt Pearl stiffen, he immediately dropped the coat and watched as she pulled it all the way on. She grabbe
d her bag and headed towards the front door. “I can walk myself home, Mr. Preston.”

  Zeke caught up with her in a few long strides. “I can’t let you do that.”

  Pearl paused and turned, looking at him, scrunching her eyebrows so they appeared to disappear into her skin. “Why ever not?”

  “Marianne would lay me out.”

  “I don’t think Marianne would…”

  “I would,” Marianne’s voice called from the stairs. Zeke turned to watch the petite redhead walking down the stairs from the apartment she shared with Archie on the third floor. When she reached the bottom step, she walked forward and stopped in front of the couple. “I thought Thomas was walking you home?” she directed to Pearl.

  “He’s in a meeting,” Zeke offered. “I volunteered to walk her home tonight.”

  “Well, then, Pearl,” Marianne began, looking back at her friend. “Looks like there won’t be a delay in getting you home tonight.”

  Pearl opened and shut her mouth a few times while she glared at Marianne. Zeke opened the door and gave an exaggerated bow.

  “Mi’lady,” he said, motioning out the door. Pearl walked out into the cool night air, still glaring over her shoulder. Zeke followed, turning to Marianne as he closed the door. “Let Tom know I’m seeing Pearl home.”

  Even though it was early June, the nights were still cool. There was a slight breeze in the air. Zeke flipped up his collar against the wind. He had to jump over the porch steps to the pavement below, jogging to catch up with Pearl.

  “Were you going to wait?” he asked.

  “I want to get home before dark,” she said pulling on a pair of gloves.

  “Before, you wanted to wait for Thomas.” Pearl glared at him, so he gave her a cheeky grin. “Besides, I’m much more fun.”

  “I doubt that,” she replied, quickening her steps. She didn’t even stop before crossing the street to heads toward the park. “You would walk me to the office every morning for weeks. Remember that? I don’t recall much enjoyment to be had.”

  Zeke picked up his pace. He still only needed one stride to every two of hers. “That was different. It was business. I was on a case. Mr. Gordon wanted to guarantee your safety.”

  Pearl stopped, causing Zeke to run into her. His arms reached out to steady her, pulling her slightly toward him. He heard a small intake of breath as Pearl placed her gloved hands on his arms. She lifted her chin and her mouth opened just slightly.

  Zeke didn’t realize just how truly magnificent she was until he was close enough to gaze into her eyes. Her eyes certainly held a hint of violet, and a tinge of pink tinted her whites. He felt her fingertips curl around his arm. Apparently, Miss Pearl Bolton wasn’t as indifferent to him as she appeared.

  He could see the flutter of a pulse in her neck, the vein pounding prominently beneath her skin. If he wanted to, he was close enough lean down and kiss her.

  Pearl gave a little cough and pulled away.

  “Don’t you trust me, Pearl?”

  “I wouldn’t trust you even if I saw you kneeling in church praying.”

  Zeke looked at her a moment and then threw his head back and laughed. “That is something I would have never expected from you.” He took her arm, linking her hand inside his elbow. Giving her a wink, he patted her hand. “Let’s get you home.”

  Zeke held Pearl’s arm back to the limestone row home where her parents lived. He walked her up the eight steps leading to a small porch. Pearl pulled a key from her pocket and slid it in the lock.

  “Thank you for walking me home,” Pearl said softly, placing her hand on the door handle.

  “The pleasure was all mine.”

  The door swung open nearly pulling Pearl inside the house.

  “I thought I heard you, Pearl.” Mrs. Bolton stood at the door; her straw-colored hair fell in a plait over her shoulder. Her eyes drooped slightly and were pink along the edges. Zeke could smell the scent of cloying spices permeating from her dressing gown. She wrinkled her nose as she looked at Zeke, who still had his hand on Pearl’s elbow. “You are a might late this evening. Is this the reason why?” she waved a hand towards Zeke.

  “No, Momma,” Pearl said. “I was just…”

  Zeke pushed forward. “It’s my fault, ma’am. We were tied up at the office, and no one could walk her home.”

  Mrs. Bolton sniffled. “I don’t know why you insist on doing that. It isn’t like anything will happen to her. No one wants to bother with someone that looks like her.”

  Zeke released Pearl and clenched his fists next to his legs. Pearl’s mouth fell open in astonishment, “Momma!”

  “We do it because we care for her a great deal, Mrs. Bolton. She is a member of our family.”

  Mrs. Bolton lifted a handkerchief and pressed it against her nose. “The nurse had to leave. You need to get inside and see to your father.”

  Pearl glanced to Zeke before scurrying inside the house. As she disappeared, Mrs. Bolton started to close the door. Zeke slid his foot inside the door frame, blocking her from closing it.

  “What’s this all about, Mrs. Bolton?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her. Mrs. Bolton lifted the handkerchief to her nose and inhaled deeply once more.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I would say you are imbibing.”

  “I don’t drink, sir.”

  “Laudanum perhaps?”

  “That belongs to my husband.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first to become addicted.”

  “Thank you, sir, but I am not.” She kicked his foot and slammed the door. Zeke could hear her turning the lock.

  Zeke shook his head as he jogged down the steps to the sidewalk. He’d be sure to mention something to Pearl about it. He knew that Archie and Marianne were helping the family out, but he didn’t think they knew that the money was going for a bitter red tonic.

  He thought about Pearl on his way back to the office. It appeared that she was virtually a prisoner in her own home. The only escape she had was going to work at the Pinkerton’s office. Every other moment was spent taking care of her father.

  He’d make mention of the nurse leaving early to Marianne. He was under the impression that there was an evening nurse so that Pearl was relieved from her duties at night. Perhaps he shouldn’t even get involved. But there was something about the young lady that made Zeke’s protective instincts kick in.

  He shouldn’t get involved. Couldn’t get involved. The last time he tried to help someone it didn’t end well for either of them. The young lady had been ruined, and he was sent on assignment out of state.

  His thoughts plagued him as he returned to the dormitory, an old carriage house that had been converted and, housed up to sixteen agents at a time. Currently there were only five in residence. The rest were out on assignments.

  As he walked through the common area, he spied Thomas sitting on the couch thumbing through some files.

  “New case?” Zeke asked, tugging on his tie.

  “Yeah. Mr. Gordon asked me to look at it. It is a chance for an undercover assignment.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” Zeke jumped over the back of a second settee and flipped his legs up on the arm, stretching the full length. He dropped the tie on the table and put his hands under his head, lacing his fingers together.

  Thomas shrugged. “I guess. I don’t know much ‘bout cooking, but I’s supposen I could learn.”

  “You need to learn how to cook for a case?”

  Thomas nodded. “Seems some large’un company been hostin’ cookin’ contests ‘round the country. They wanna make sure there ain’t hullabaloo going on.”

  “Like what?”

  Thomas flipped open the case file. “Cheatin’. I don’t know how some’un would be cheatin’ at no cookin’ competition.”

  “Have things like this happened before? What are they concerned about?”

  “Says here that some flour company hosted one of this here contests and there was a bunch of s
tuff happenin’. Lik’um mixin’ salt for sugar, cumin for cinnamon. That sort of thing. I dunno what cumin is, but I’s guessin’ it’s brown.”

  “It’s a spice. Sounds like a disgruntled contestant to me.”

  “You would think so. Nothin’ happened with this stove company, but I’s guessin’ that they just want to make sure that nothing does.”

  “Hmmm… are they going to pair you with anyone?”

  “I don’t think so. There aren’t any other female detectives available right now and I don’t think I’m supposed to cook. Just watch what is going on.”

  “You mentioned it was a contest. What kind of prizes?”

  Thomas flipped back through the notes that were laying on the table. “Grand prize is a brand-new range and fifteen dollars cash.”

  Zeke let out a low whistle and sat up on the settee. “That’s a mighty nice prize.”

  “The money? I wouldn’t mind a piece of that. The stove, however, why would someone want that?”

  “I’m sure it makes a few housewives’ hearts aflutter.”

  Thomas put the folder down. “I wish it was anyone but me on this case.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I signed up to be a Pinkerton. I heard all these stories of train robberies, embezzlement, kidnappings. And what do I get? A silly cookin’ competition!”

  Zeke laced his hands together and rested two fingers at his chin in thought. “How old are you, Tom?”

  “Just turned twenty.” The young man was twelve years his junior.

  “Give it time. This is just a case for you to cut your teeth on. Not every case is filled with excitement. In fact, the best cases aren’t. They are the ones where everybody comes home safely, and no one gets hurt. There will be plenty of robberies, embezzlements and kidnappings in the future. Why soon, you’ll have stories of your own to tell.”

  “I guess so.”

  Zeke watched as the young man continued to shuffle the papers in the file. He envied the agent who was just starting out. The case didn’t sound too difficult.

  The young agent looked at Zeke, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Do you think Pearl would teach me how to cook?”