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Chapter 1

  Jack Blackwood lit a cigarette and leaned back heavily in his old office chair. He had just finished reading the morning paper which lay on the desk before him. It had detailed the latest on the continuing Secessionist crisis. With the election of Abraham Lincoln, several Southern states had already voted to leave the Union. Federal troops were moving to Washington to protect the capitol from the Rebel States. The crisis in South Carolina had resulted in the bombardment of Fort Sumter, which had fanned the flames of war. Virginia, which was directly across the Potomac, was voting soon to determine if they would secede, and their decision was the current concern of the fracturing nation. Already Secessionist sympathizers in Baltimore had cut telegraph lines and destroyed bridges leading to Washington. While reporting to Washington, the 6th Massachusetts Regiment had been attacked by an angry mob. The soldiers were then forced to open fire on the crowd.

  He touched his fingers together and blew smoke up at the ceiling, studying the patterns against the morning light flooding through the windows. He wasn’t much bothered by the coming war but was more interested in the possibilities it could bring. With the clouds of uncertainty over the city, there was money to be made.

  Jack then stood up and walked over to the window, looking over the low-rent district where he lived. His office was in a corner building, above a tailor shop and it gave him an excellent view of the surroundings. The street below was still wet with mud from a light morning rain and the wagon wheels had cut deep tracks in the muddy road. Along the wooden boardwalk, the bustle of foot traffic around the stores could be seen. He could hear the newsboys, the cries of street vendors, and the slow rhythmic sound of horses pulling heavy wagons.

  Off in the distance, Jack could see smoke in the air from the many campfires of the large encampment stationed outside the city. The increased presence of the Army had brought in packs of camp followers - ladies of the night, whiskey peddlers, pawn brokers, and traveling salesmen. There was a sense of fretfulness and excitement which hung heavily over the entire city.

  Jack turned away from the window, looking over his office; at his desk with his familiar office chair, a coat tree, the chair for the rare customer, the old banker safe in the corner, and a gun rack with several well-polished pieces. He took a turn around the room, continuing to smoke and ponder the future. His head was hurting badly from the night before, but it helped if he didn’t stay still for too long.

  He rubbed his grizzled chin and swallowed hard, feeling his dry tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth. Last night he had gone out drinking and could still feel the effects in his veins from the almost continual flow of whiskey. The saloon he had visited was busy with activity as people threw caution to the wind and had played their card games like Judgment Day was just around the corner. He himself had little money to spend playing cards, but enjoyed watching the rush of worried humanity act in their foolish ways.

  There was a creak of the floorboards as the side door leading into the living area opened. His partner Ezra stepped in. He was a lean ex-slave who had worked with Jack these past many years. His dark face was scarred on one cheek from an old knife fight, but a sharp intelligence could be seen beneath the brown eyes. Self-taught in reading and writing, he had escaped from Mississippi when he was younger and made his way up north. The detective had met him while working on another case, and they had been inseparable ever since. Over the years, his partner had developed a deep knowledge of Washington by knowing the various servants of this well-to-do of the City. He also had several paid informants within the underworld of prostitution and gambling.

  Jack smiled at his old friend, and then threw a dollar coin on the desk. He said, “If you don’t mind, Ezra, do me a favor and pick me up a pint of whiskey and some more cigars. A little drink is in order right now – you understand, just to get my wits in order.”

  His partner shook his head and leaned against the door frame to study his friend. “You should be more careful the way you spend your money on liquor. We only have a few dollars left and it’s been weeks since we were able to find any kind of work.”

  “Don’t worry, I always manage to find us work. With all these recent troubles, I can feel something good coming. This year is going to bring both of us plenty of money.”

  Ezra looked at him in disbelief. He said stiffly, “I’m not worried about this year; I’m worried about next week.”

  “I’m certain we have enough to last us until I can scrounge something up.”

  “I hope you are right,” Ezra said with little confidence.

  “Now do me a favor and get that drink for me.”

  His partner shrugged, took the dollar and then turned to leave, whistling under his breath as he went down the side stairs.

  Jack continued to slowly pace the floor, a cloud of smoke following him as he went. The floorboards squeaked lightly as his heavy boots shuffled along. He rubbed the side of his graying temples, and wished his headache away.

  A few minutes passed by, and then the silence was broken by a hesitant knock at the front office door. Jack stopped in surprise. He then went to the door. Looking through the thick leaded glass, he saw a young woman standing in the hallway. He slowly opened the door.

  A sweet feminine voice said, “Excuse me, I wasn’t sure if I had the right place. I’m looking for a Mister Jack Blackwood, the detective.”

  “Well, missy, you seem to have come to the right place. I am Jack Blackwood at your service.” He gave a little bow and motioned her towards the chair across from his desk. “Now what can I do for you? Go ahead, let me hear you out.”

  He held the chair for her as she sat down and then walked over to the other side of the desk. He stood behind it, waiting for her to begin.

  Not looking at him, she instead gave the room a careful scrutiny. Jack, inwardly wondering at her thoughts and hesitation, decided to take his own seat while he waited for to start her story. As he waited for her to begin, Jack looked her over with appreciation – she was in her mid-twenties, with no wedding band on her hand, a pale face, and was wearing an expensive brown dress with burgundy trim. Long blond hair hung down beyond her shoulders where a small matching brown bonnet hung around her neck. She was obviously rich and well-groomed – the product of wealth and proper schooling. He decided that she was quite beautiful, but with that slightly pouty mouth that indicates a woman who was used to getting her way. Her eyes appeared tired, with circles underneath and redness at the corners. She fidgeted and continued to look over the dusty office. She then took off her gloves and nervously twisted them in her hands.

  Jack could tell that she was worried. She was also obviously not used to visiting the poorer side of town. He decided it would take some doing to get the story out of her. “Please, what can I do for you?” he said smoothly. “You must not worry since everything discussed in this office is quite confidential.”

  She licked her lips, revealing a dainty tongue, and began to talk in a high timorous voice. “Dear sir, my name is Faith Hanson. I was sent by my father, the Honorable Daniel Hanson, to ask for your help. You once did a small service for my dear uncle, James Dawson, when he was in a most delicate situation. We are hoping you can do the same for us.”

  “Yes, I remember that case. It was a violent rather than a delicate situation. I ended up with a knife wound from that blackmailer. But please, do continue.”

  She gave him a small shy smile before continuing with her story. “My brother has been most mysterious lately. And now he is gone. We need someone to help us.” She then shook her head with confusion and sighed.

  “What exactly are you asking from me, miss?” he asked.

  “Please, I made a bad start of it. Let me start again from the beginning.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She cleared her throat. “Last year, my brother Lawrence started working for the War Department as a clerk. My father got him the job and it seemed to suit L
awrence rather well. He spoke highly of his superior and seemed at ease at his new workplace. But the past month he has become most agitated. My brother has been out late nearly every night and rarely comes home anymore after work.” Her hand grabbed an embroidered lace handkerchief she’d placed in her sleeve, and she dabbed her eyes, and paused to regain her composure.

  As she spoke, Jack imagined he knew the type of person. They would try to lead a secret life, which would eventually catch up to them. The drinking would begin to take over and, after a while, they would feel unable to return home from the shame. They would end up stuck in some cheap room with a bottle in hand, drinking their life away. Jack had seen what could happen to a man when the bottle became his life. He smiled reassuringly at Faith, dropped a little of his formal demeanor, and became more frank. “Perhaps he has met a woman, got drunk, or wants to play a few cards after work. Young men are always out and about these days.”

  Faith blushed lightly and looked away from Jack’s searching gaze. “My brother isn’t quite that kind of person,” she said shyly. “He has always been most kind to my father and me. We are a good family and are sympathetic towards each other.”

  “Well, what is your problem then? I could make the rounds and see what business is keeping him up after hours.” he said.

  “That’s not the problem,” she sniffed. “You see, he has disappeared. On Tuesday morning, he told me he had to go see a man that evening. He said not to worry, but he looked most troubled. He did not come home that night or even on Wednesday. After making inquiries at his work, we found that he had not been there since Tuesday. That’s when we decided to find someone to help us.”

  “Have you contacted the City Ward?” Jack asked coolly. He was almost ready to dismiss the case since he was not interested in spending his time tracking down a wayward young man who was probably trying to drink his problems away. “They’re pretty good at finding out where people are hiding. Your brother could be in jail and is too embarrassed to send word to your father.”

  “The City Ward?” she replied with a hint of sarcasm. “They are undermanned and are too busy rounding up drunken soldiers to help us. We need someone who is exclusively dedicated to helping our family.”

  “I see,” he said slowly. The thought of dismissing the case faded into the past as he thought of the cash possibilities. He was currently short of money - it would only take a few inquiries and then he could get the payoff from the Hanson family. “Do you have any idea where your brother could have gone?” he finally asked.

  She played with the fingers of her gloves and said, “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mister Blackwood. You see, the War Department is now investigating Lawrence. His supervisor, a Mister Forsythe, came to our house to inquire of his whereabouts.”

  “What did they want from you?” Jack sat up straighter, now growing more interested.

  “Some important papers are missing, and they say they have proof that my brother was involved in their theft,” she sighed. “This man Forsythe has accused my brother Lawrence of stealing these documents to sell them to the Secessionist States.”

  “Do you know what information the papers contain?”

  “I do not know. We know my brother cannot have done this. He would never do anything so terrible as to betray the trust given to him. It would be totally against his character.”

  “You might be surprised what a man can do who is caught in the wrong situation.” He leaned back into his chair and frowned at the ceiling, wondering where Ezra was with the pint of whiskey. He then cleared his dry throat and continued on. “This man your brother was going to see, do you know his name?”

  “Not quite a name, but a clue to where he could have gone. Early this morning, with my father’s permission, I took the liberty of going through my brother’s room. I found this message in his dresser drawer.” She handed a small slip of wrinkled paper over for Jack to read.

  Meet me at the Gay Lady Saloon at Eight O’ Clock tonight – A.

  He looked the paper over before placing it on the desk. “This indeed may be a clue to where he has gone. Do you know anyone with a name beginning with A?”

  “My brother did meet with a man named Abbott on occasion.”

  “What do you know of this man?”

  “There's not much that I can remember, but perhaps my father may be able to answer your questions in more detail.”

  “I would be more than happy to talk to your father,” Jack replied.

  “Please stop by to give us a moment of your time.” Smiling, she jotted her address down on a slip of paper and then rose to leave.

  He looked at her and paused as if remembering something important before he spoke. “I have a few early business appointments this morning, but I will come over as soon as I can spare the time. If your father agrees to my bill of ten dollars a day, then I will be willing to look into this matter.”

  “We shall agree to pay anything if you can find my brother,” she said.

  Jack followed her as she walked to the door. “Please make your mind at ease,” he said soothingly. “I will be by with my partner as soon as I can. If anyone can find your brother, it will be us.”

  She turned to smile at him and nodded. She then left, taking the stairs in haste. Jack watched her with interest before shutting the door and returning to his desk.

  Some moments later, Ezra stepped in through the side door holding a small pint of whiskey and a packet of wrapped cigars. He saw Jack sitting behind his desk, methodically cleaning his old Starr revolver. Jack looked up and grinned at him with his eyes twinkling. He set the bottle on the desk. “By that look on your face, there is something going on. You only look that way when money is jingling in your pockets.”

  Jack picked up the bottle and pulled open the cork stopper. “I told you something would come along. We have a missing person case on our hands.” He took a long grateful pull from the bottle and sighed with contentment.

  “That doesn’t sound like much of a job,” Ezra said, grumbling.

  “Hold on and let me finish. There are some missing papers involved. The War Department is also looking for this Lawrence Hanson. If we can get him back to the family before he is caught by the government then they are sure to reward us rather well.”

  “That sounds a little more profitable,” his partner said with renewed interest.

  “Now what do you know about the Hanson family? One father named Daniel Hanson, a son called Lawrence, and a pretty little creature called Faith.”

  Ezra thought a moment before answering. “They are an old Washington family that has been involved in politics since the Revolutionary War. Until a few years ago, the old man was a Congressman. Before his recent retirement, he was quite popular in the Whig Party. The mother passed on a few years ago. The son was always on the wild side, and his daughter is almost considered an old maid – she’s had several suitors but nothing definite.”

  Jack looked at him slyly. “She didn’t look anything like an old maid to me.”

  He laughed. “That may be so, but you are hardly respectable company. I will have to ask a few of the local servants if you want to hear any more stories about them.”

  “I’m always surprised what you do know about this town.” Jack knew that his partner could always be counted on to know something about every important family in Washington. Jack took another swig from the bottle and put the cork back in. “Do you know anything about a man called Abbott? He was mentioned, but I’m not sure where he fits in this business yet.”

  Ezra shook his head. “Abbott is a fairly common name. There are a few unsavory characters in the immediate area with that surname. But there is one that really stands out in Washington - Lewis Abbott is a villain of the worst sort and has been involved in several nefarious schemes. I’m not sure if he would have anything to do with this, but he is the only obvious person I can think of. Perhaps your friend Garrett woul
d know more about this disappearance.”

  “I like that idea. Let’s head on over to see Garrett and then pay a visit to the Hanson house. Then we can see if the family can tell us anything else about their wayward son and this mysterious Abbott.”

  Jack slid the pint of whiskey into his coat pocket. After locking up, the two of them headed towards the livery where their horses were kept.