Death of a Robber Baron by Charles O'Brien

Jack Thompson’s widow is working for you?” Allen settled comfortably into an upholstered chair.
    Prescott nodded. “Her mind is sharp, and she’s got pluck. Her experience working in the tenements has toughened her. With training she has become a good detective.”
    â€œReally? That doesn’t sound like women’s work. What do you detectives do?”
    â€œWe gather information for clients that they cannot or will not get for themselves.”
    â€œAny information? How about evidence of adultery?” Allen’s tone turned serious.
    â€œDetective agencies, such as Pinkerton’s, avoid divorce cases as too scandalous to touch. Within the law, I choose investigations, depending on whether the issues are interesting and will yield a profit.”
    Allen chewed on his lower lip, then blurted out, “You may have heard the rumor that my wife and old Henry Jennings are sleeping together. It’s probably just malicious nonsense. People envy his wealth and prominence, or Helen’s beauty, charm, and voice. She says that Jennings pays no more attention to her than to any other young woman. I would be a silly goose to believe otherwise. Still, the rumor itches, and I scratch it constantly.” He emptied his glass and signaled a waiter.
    He filled their glasses. The two men toasted each other. Prescott asked, “Have you any evidence of a romance?”
    Allen stared into his glass before responding, then pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket. “When I recently returned from Jekyll Island, I received this note. At the time, I ignored it. Now the rumor makes me wonder.” He handed the note to Prescott.
    The anonymous author had crudely printed on cheap unlined paper, “Your wife is a cheating whore. Old goat Jennings has found a way into your bed.” The message’s form was strikingly similar to that of the one sent to Mrs. Jennings.
    â€œHave you shown it to your wife?”
    â€œNo. You are the only person to have seen it.”
    â€œCan you think of anyone who holds a grudge against you or your wife?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œSo, what do you want me to do?”
    Allen’s eyes narrowed, darkened. “Find out the truth.”
    â€œCome what may?”
    â€œYes!” His voice was hard as flint.
    Â 
    The two men agreed on the terms of the investigation, and Allen left. Before going any further, Prescott needed to learn more about him. Since their college days at Columbia, they had seldom met, but Allen’s self-indulgent and vain character appeared unchanged.
    He would be unfaithful to his wife. Still, he might kill the man who cuckolded him, assuming that a wife must be true even if her husband was not. Furthermore, Allen could be greedy and might seize this opportunity to extort money from the rich Henry Jennings. If adultery were proved, Allen could sue for damages as well as divorce. The threat of scandal might force Jennings to settle privately on Allen’s terms—or, resort to more desperate measures.
    For well-informed, discreet advice, Prescott approached the club’s steward. The two men had developed a mutually helpful relationship. The steward sometimes paid Prescott to investigate certain candidates for club membership.
    The steward was alone at his desk and gestured his visitor to a chair. “What can I do for you, Prescott?”
    â€œGeorge Allen has asked me to investigate his wife. He thinks she’s cheating, and he’s angry. Can you tell me more about him?”
    The steward smiled wryly. “He gambles, lives far beyond his means, and is deep in debt. But that’s not what you want to know, is it?”
    Prescott shook his head. “Is he faithful to his wife?”
    â€œNot at all.” The steward lowered his voice. “Most of Allen’s affairs are brief and lighthearted. He chases after good-looking and spirited shop girls. He brought one of them to a large, private