reminding herself to make sure the curtains were drawn tight.
Back in the safety of her snug little house, she bolted the door and closed the curtains, then pulled out her papers and jotted down her morning’s observations while they were still fresh in her mind. With that chore out of the way, she went to her bedroom, where she pulled off her wig, arranged it on the wig stand, and ran her fingers through her hair. After that she removed her spectacles, unwound her leg wrappings, pulled out the wax plumpers, and plopped down on the bed.
For the thousandth time, she wished Norma hadn’t abandoned her. She needed someone to talk to, someone she could confide in and speak her mind clearly to without having to resort to coded messages. She punched the pillow into a mass of fluffy comfort and propped it against the headboard, then settled back against it, trying to imagine what would be happening now if Norma had come out with her as planned. They might be sipping tea over at the table, comparing notes, assessing what they had learned so far, and deciding what to do next.
What would Norma say if she were here? Ellie had no way of knowing, but she felt sure her senior partner would have made significantly better progress than she had so far. People were nice enough to Lavinia, but they hadn’t proven to be founts of information about any nefarious schemes in their midst.
Early afternoon sunlight filtered in through the curtains, throwing the wig and its stand into shadows and creating the illusion that an actual person sat in the room with her. Giving in to the fanciful notion, Ellie tilted her head and addressed the gray wig.
“Lavinia, you’re a dear woman, but you aren’t likely to get into the places and talk to the kinds of people who are going to know more about the seamy side of this town. If Norma was here, I’ll bet she could figure out a way to let Jessie strike up a conversation with people who’d never take a second glance at a respectable woman like you.”
She pushed herself up higher on the pillow. “I hate to say it, but the Pinkertons were right. You’re wonderful as a chaperone, but you’re entirely too respectable to handle Jessie’s part of the job.”
When she squinted, she could almost imagine the wig nodding.
How could she ever have thought she’d be able to carry out the job on her own? People were civil to Lavinia, but the men who might possess the information she needed wouldn’t do more than tip their hat to the gray-haired woman and pass on by. She needed a partner.
And that wasn’t likely to happen. It had been hard enough for the Pinkertons to find someone to take on Lavinia’s role. She couldn’t expect another Jessie to appear out of nowhere. And she didn’t dare tell the home office she needed help. She was on probation. If she admitted she couldn’t handle her first assignment, they would have no reason to take her seriously.
She stared at the wig. What would Lavinia say if she truly existed? Ellie closed her eyes and waited for inspiration.
“What if you brought in help without asking them for it?”
Ellie jumped. It was almost as if the older woman had actually spoken. As inspiration went, though, that suggestion was sadly lacking. How was she supposed to find help on her own? It would be too dangerous for her to reveal herself to anyone in Pickford.
But the idea, once formed, wouldn’t leave her alone. It persisted, hovering around her like a buzzing fly. She had become Lavinia easily enough. Why not become Jessie, as well?
Ellie sat bolt upright, feeling as though someone had set off fireworks in her brain. Could it work?
No, of course not. She was mousy Ellie, the one nobody noticed. It was one thing to transform herself into a middle-aged woman men wouldn’t look at twice. Quite another to take on a personality so unlike her own.
Tears stung her eyes. It was a lovely idea, but try to turn herself into a dazzler like Norma . . . ? That would be like
Back in the safety of her snug little house, she bolted the door and closed the curtains, then pulled out her papers and jotted down her morning’s observations while they were still fresh in her mind. With that chore out of the way, she went to her bedroom, where she pulled off her wig, arranged it on the wig stand, and ran her fingers through her hair. After that she removed her spectacles, unwound her leg wrappings, pulled out the wax plumpers, and plopped down on the bed.
For the thousandth time, she wished Norma hadn’t abandoned her. She needed someone to talk to, someone she could confide in and speak her mind clearly to without having to resort to coded messages. She punched the pillow into a mass of fluffy comfort and propped it against the headboard, then settled back against it, trying to imagine what would be happening now if Norma had come out with her as planned. They might be sipping tea over at the table, comparing notes, assessing what they had learned so far, and deciding what to do next.
What would Norma say if she were here? Ellie had no way of knowing, but she felt sure her senior partner would have made significantly better progress than she had so far. People were nice enough to Lavinia, but they hadn’t proven to be founts of information about any nefarious schemes in their midst.
Early afternoon sunlight filtered in through the curtains, throwing the wig and its stand into shadows and creating the illusion that an actual person sat in the room with her. Giving in to the fanciful notion, Ellie tilted her head and addressed the gray wig.
“Lavinia, you’re a dear woman, but you aren’t likely to get into the places and talk to the kinds of people who are going to know more about the seamy side of this town. If Norma was here, I’ll bet she could figure out a way to let Jessie strike up a conversation with people who’d never take a second glance at a respectable woman like you.”
She pushed herself up higher on the pillow. “I hate to say it, but the Pinkertons were right. You’re wonderful as a chaperone, but you’re entirely too respectable to handle Jessie’s part of the job.”
When she squinted, she could almost imagine the wig nodding.
How could she ever have thought she’d be able to carry out the job on her own? People were civil to Lavinia, but the men who might possess the information she needed wouldn’t do more than tip their hat to the gray-haired woman and pass on by. She needed a partner.
And that wasn’t likely to happen. It had been hard enough for the Pinkertons to find someone to take on Lavinia’s role. She couldn’t expect another Jessie to appear out of nowhere. And she didn’t dare tell the home office she needed help. She was on probation. If she admitted she couldn’t handle her first assignment, they would have no reason to take her seriously.
She stared at the wig. What would Lavinia say if she truly existed? Ellie closed her eyes and waited for inspiration.
“What if you brought in help without asking them for it?”
Ellie jumped. It was almost as if the older woman had actually spoken. As inspiration went, though, that suggestion was sadly lacking. How was she supposed to find help on her own? It would be too dangerous for her to reveal herself to anyone in Pickford.
But the idea, once formed, wouldn’t leave her alone. It persisted, hovering around her like a buzzing fly. She had become Lavinia easily enough. Why not become Jessie, as well?
Ellie sat bolt upright, feeling as though someone had set off fireworks in her brain. Could it work?
No, of course not. She was mousy Ellie, the one nobody noticed. It was one thing to transform herself into a middle-aged woman men wouldn’t look at twice. Quite another to take on a personality so unlike her own.
Tears stung her eyes. It was a lovely idea, but try to turn herself into a dazzler like Norma . . . ? That would be like
Similar Books
