Murder in New York: The Pinkerton Man Series, #2

By C.J. Baty

Coming back to New York to see her ailing father, Lizzie Ferguson did not expect to find him healthy and newly married to a much younger woman. She, also, didn't expect to connect with an old lover and childhood friend or be accused of killing her father. But, life has a way of knocking you to your knees when you least expect it.

Stiles Long had always regretted that the killer, from his first case as a Pinkerton Agent, had got away. Now, in New York it was happening again. The Hotel Astor Bar was a meeting place for men who enjoyed the company of men. And, some of them were being brutally murdered. When one of the suspects from the original case appears at the hotel, Stiles is torn between his desire to stop a killer and kiss the man senseless.

Two different cases, but some of the faces overlap from one to the other. Stiles and Lizzie are in a race to discover who the killers are before another body gets added to the count.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.J. Baty
• Release date: May 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386243052

C.J. Baty

CJ Baty dreamed of writing her own stories from a very young age. Time and life got in the way, but with the encouragement of her two grownup children, she began to follow that dream. She loves a mystery and when you mix in romance and hot men, you can bet there’s going to be a happily ever after. She brings her love of nature and the mountains of the Southern states into her stores too. Too many years spent in an office crunching numbers, left her with the desire to explore new places and experiences. Whenever, possible you can find her in Tennessee enjoying the fresh air and beautiful scenery. Her muse lives there so she visits often. She believes deeply that love is love and love is what binds us all.

Book preview

Murder in New York

Copyright © 2018 C.J. Baty

First Edition May 27, 2018

Published in the United States

Cover Art by Select-O-Grafix, LLC

http://selectografix.com

Editing by Karen Boston Editing and Proofreading

http://thebookmarketingnetwork.com/profile/KarenBoston

Cover content used for illustrative purposes only, and any person depicted is a model.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

The following story is set in the USA and therefore has been written in US English. The spelling and usage reflect that.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Owner, except where permitted by law. To request permission and for all other inquires, contact C.J. Baty by email.

[e-mail]

Table of Contents

Acknowledgement

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Other Works by C.J. Baty

About the Author

Acknowledgement

There are always so many people to thank that I often forget someone. My heartfelt thanks to those who helped bring this book to life with their input, research help, encouragement, and friendship. Caitlyn, Robyn, Kelly, Gina: You are the best!

Dedication

This book is entirely dedicated to my wonderful daughter, Caitlyn. I have had the enormous pleasure of being your mother. Though we have had our rough times, I’ve watched as you grew into an independent woman with a mind of her own. I’m proud to call you daughter, but I’m thankful to call you friend.

Chapter One

I ’m so sorry, Stiles , to drag you away from St. Louis, Lizzie said for at least the sixth time today.

Stiles patted her hand—again. It seemed his strong-willed partner had a weak spot and was in need of reassuring a plenty. The news that her father had fallen ill and she needed to come home immediately had somehow undone Lizzie Ferguson.

He supposed had he any living relatives, he might feel the same. But then his mother died when he was just a child, he had never really known her. And his father finally remarried when Stiles was a young man away at university, then died shortly after the marriage. His stepmother was a shadow, having only seen her at his father’s funeral. He’d been on his own for the most part of his life.

Until he’d met Lizzie and her father on the transatlantic voyage from London to America, he’d never even had a best friend. Many people saw he and Lizzie and immediately assumed there was more to the two of them than there would ever be. And even though Lizzie’s father had hoped there would finally be a match for his spinster daughter, marriage was the farthest thing from Lizzie’s mind or Stiles. Lizzie wanted no part of being under some man’s thumb. And as for Stiles, his desires lay in a totally different direction.

After Stiles moved to St. Louis and joined the Pinkerton Agency, he missed his friend greatly. He had no idea, at the time, that Lizzie would eventually join him as an agent herself. Cementing their friendship as they became partners for the agency.

There had never been a question that Stiles would go with her to New York, to her father’s bedside. Stiles wouldn’t dream of letting her go on her own. Grand Central Station was a huge platform, with trains coming in from all over the eastern seaboard. The place was a huge mass of people and confusion. There was a multitude of languages floating on the air around them. New York City was a stopping off place for many immigrants and world travelers. It could be both amazing and frightening all in the same breath.

A baggage attendant helped them procure their luggage and load it into a waiting taxi cab. Lizzie became more anxious as they made their way through the crowded streets. Her father’s city residence was located in mid-Manhattan. The ride from the station a fairly quick one.

He’s an old curmudgeon, you know, but I don’t know what I’d do if he. . . Tears suddenly appeared in her lovely hazel eyes, and she wiped at them hurriedly.

I’m sure he’s going to be fine, Lizzie. Let’s wait and see what’s going on. We’ll deal with the situation then, Stiles said.

She sniffed and patted her nose with a lacy handkerchief, nodding her agreement.

LIZZIE’S HOME WAS AS ostentatious as Lizzie’s father. Of course, this was their townhouse, and Stiles had only ever been to the winter home outside the city in upstate New York. When the summers were too hot, or the holidays were about, the entire family and staff would move to the country estate.

At heart, Gerald Ferguson was a businessman. He lived and breathed his finances, never really paying much attention to his only child, Lizzie. That is until he realized she had reached her twenty-fifth birthday and showed no prospect or interest in getting married and settling down. He wasn’t at all happy when Lizzie ran away, only telling him afterward that she had found employment in St. Louis. She was quite happy and had no intention of returning to New York any time in the near future.

When he finally managed to track her address down, he demanded that she return to New York and get married. She adamantly refused and ignored any other correspondence from the man. That is, until the letter had come from her father’s solicitor that informed her that her father was very ill and the doctors were asking him to locate her and bring her home as quickly as possible.

The door opened as they approached the stairs leading up to the entrance. A young woman, not much older than Lizzie, stood at the open door, smiling gently down at them. She was dressed in a lavender taffeta gown more appropriate for evening wear than mid-day.

Please come in, Lizzie. I’d know you anywhere. You have your father’s eyes. Her voice was soft and kind.

Lizzie eyed the woman carefully. It was clear to Stiles that Lizzie didn’t know this woman and she was confused at her presence.

I’m sorry, but where is Mrs. Rothchild? Lizzie asked as she stepped across the threshold. Stiles followed behind her.

Let me get someone to collect your things from the taxi, she said without answering Lizzie’s question.

Where is Mrs. Rothchild? Lizzie inquired again, then added, and just who are you?

Mrs. Rothchild is in the kitchen, preparing your father’s lunch. Walking away from Lizzie and Stiles, the woman stopped in front of a large set of double doors. She was blushing a bright pink when she turned to face them again.

I think your father should be the one to explain. He’s in his study. With a flourish of crinkling taffeta, she turned and hurried ahead into the room through the ornate doors, leaving Lizzie and Stiles gaping at her departure.

Who is she? Stiles whispered as they hurried after the woman.

I’ve no idea. But whoever she is, my father has some explaining to do. He’s clearly not on his death bed if he’s working at home and having someone prepare his noon meal.

Father? Lizzie said as she stopped short in front of Stiles and stared at her father, who sat behind a huge carved desk, patting the hand of the mysterious lady in lavender.

Stiles watched in fascination as a perfectly healthy Gerald Ferguson rose from his seat and crossed the room with open arms.

Lizzie, I’m so glad to see you my dear, he said as he wrapped his arms around Lizzie. He hugged her tightly. She stood transfixed to the spot, her arms at her sides.

Eventually, she pushed herself away from his embrace and frowned at him. Stiles had seen that look before and was not surprised when she crossed her arms over her chest as well. He secretly believed the action was made so she wouldn’t pummel the man.

You are not ill, Lizzie pointed out angrily.

At least Mr. Ferguson had the good graces to blush slightly and step back from his only daughter. Turning to address Stiles, he offered his hand.

Grand to see you as well, Mr. Long. Thank you for escorting my wayward daughter home.

Gerald. The young woman in lavender glided across the room and stood at Mr. Ferguson’s arm.

Stiles had never seen Lizzie speechless, but when her father took the woman’s hand, wrapped it around his arm, then patted it gently—Lizzie stared wordlessly at the couple.

Stiles touched Lizzie’s elbow, causing her attention to be diverted for a moment. Her father chose that time to speak up.

Lizzie, this is Millicent. Millicent Ferguson, my bride of three months.

Stiles was just able to catch Lizzie as her eyes closed and she fainted dead away.

LIZZIE LAY ON THE COUCH in the main parlor. Her color was returning to her cheeks, and she didn’t look like death anymore. At Mr. Ferguson’s direction, Stiles had carried Lizzie to the parlor. Mrs. Ferguson had sent for cool water and a rag and had been sitting by Lizzie, seeing to her care.

I had no idea she would take the news like that, Mr. Ferguson stated as he poured Stiles and himself a scotch from the side bar.

Accepting the drink, Stiles took a sip before he spoke.

It was probably just the shock. She’s been terribly worried about you since she received that letter from your solicitor about your health, Stiles eyed his host carefully. By the way, why did you lie to her, Mr. Ferguson?

Gerald. Please call me Gerald.

Stiles waited until the man found his voice or came up with an acceptable lie.

I wanted her home. She had refused every reasonable request that I had made. Gerald swallowed his drink. It just wasn’t right for her to be living on her own so far away from home and working at a job, of all things!

Stiles held his smile in check. The man clearly did not know his own daughter very well.

She needs to be married and settled down. I plan on seeing that she does.

No, the man did not know his daughter at all.

Not sure you are going to be able to convince her of that, Stiles said gently. She is a rather stubborn thing when she wants to be, and marriage is one of those things she has definite ideas about.

Millicent entered the room with a small bottle and sat next to Lizzie again. She opened the bottle and passed it beneath Lizzie’s tiny nose. Immediately, Lizzie’s eyes popped open and she began to cough, trying to sit up. Millicent applied a gentle pat to Lizzie’s back and asked her if she was all right now. Jerking away, Lizzie stood, wobbled and then faced her father.

Your wife?! She’s half your age! What were you thinking?

Lizzie, Stiles said. Calm down.

I won’t calm down. Millicent, I’m sorry, I have nothing against you. I don’t even know you. As a matter of fact, how long have you known my father?

It’s quite all right. I can see where you would have many questions about the entire situation. I explained to Gerald that he should have been more up front with you, but he came up with the idea of his illness to get you to come home. He thought it would be better to talk to you in person. Millicent was flushed and clearly embarrassed by the proceedings. This caused Lizzie to take a step back.

Maybe tea or some coffee would help? Stiles suggested.

Wonderful idea. Millicent, could you see to it? Gerald smiled at his bride. She nodded and swept from the room, taffeta crinkling as she went. Stiles wondered if she wore such dresses just to hear them swish around her.

Let’s sit down. Gerald stretched out his arm to his daughter.

STILES CHOSE TO SIT quietly in the corner and listen to the discussion between father and daughter. His only concern was Lizzie, and nothing was going to change that.

Gerald explained that he met Millicent six months ago at a dinner party a business associate was giving. Her father had been in finance and had schooled her in many aspects of the business. Gerald had found her intelligent and charming. They eventually began to see one another on a personal level, and three months later they were wed.

I know it’s a shock, but I am truly happy, my dear, Gerald told Lizzie. Stiles noted that his smile didn’t reach his eyes; they looked downcast. I think you would find that the two of you have many things in common if you’d just give it some time.

So, why the pretense of being ill? I don’t understand that at all. It was clearly a ruse.

Gerald added sugar to his coffee, stirring it before he answered. I wanted you home. That’s all there is to it. It just isn’t right for a young woman to be living on her own so far away from home. I can understand that you had something to prove to yourself. But you’ve done it. It’s time to put these childish things away. Settle down. Have a family of your own.

Lizzie’s reaction was not surprising to Stiles at all.

Prove. To. Myself?

Lizzie stood and paced the floor as she spoke.

I have nothing to prove to anyone. Things are different for women in 1907. If I want a career, I can have it. If I want to stay single, I can. I do not need the support of a husband to sustain me. And as for children, well, that might have been nice, but I am quite happy as I am.

She stopped in front of his father and gathered his hands in hers.

Please try to understand it from my point of view.

Gerald Ferguson stood. His face grew cold as he spoke.

I don’t understand, and it really doesn’t matter. I have already arranged a suitable husband for you, and he is quite happy with the arrangement. We will be announcing your engagement at a dinner party this weekend.

I cannot believe you have done this. Lizzie stood and reached for Stiles. Take me away from here.

Stiles