Free Annie's Stories by Cindy Thomson

ordinary these days. I’m not sure what you mean, Sergeant McNulty.”
    “My future bride lives there. You understand my concern.” He placed his large hand on Stephen’s shoulder, dwarfing him as though he were Stephen’s older, much taller brother. “Always valuable to have folks like you be vigilant and report to us anything odd. We can’t be everywhere.”
    “I understand. I will most certainly be watchful. Do you think they are in danger there?”
    “Probably just the jitters of the newest immigrant girl boarder. Everyone’s on edge with the news of the president’s funeral and all.”
    “Perhaps so. Say, when is the wedding?”
    The man lifted his hat and stroked his brow. “My Grace is quite attached to the children she cares for, and she’s trying to find her own replacement. The wedding will take place nonetheless, mind you, in just a few weeks.”
    “So soon? Delightful. My congratulations.”
    “Thank you.”
    A broad grin bloomed across the policeman’s face. He was obviously in love. Everyone at First Church spoke about Owen and Grace as the romance of the century, which was amusing because the century had just begun. Whether exaggerated or not, Stephen observed them and was just a bit envious.
    Owen continued. “But yes, the time is approaching whether a replacement is found or not. The delay thus far has allowed me to save for all the superfluous things I believe she deserves.”
    Rumor was Owen McNulty came from a wealthy family but preferred to make his own way in life. So long as the man could do that, Stephen admired his industry and the fact that he wanted to give his bride all he could. Stephen wished to follow that example. If only he could take Davis up on his offer and stash away some funds for his own hoped-for nuptials.
    “Carry on, Mr. Adams.”
    As Stephen made his way up the sidewalk, the presence of a man on horseback caught his attention. He wore a bolero tie, the type Westerners sported, and he sat so straight in the saddle that his slight build bore him no disadvantage. So confident was his pose, Stephen found him hard to ignore. The man glanced toward Hawkins House as he rode by, then caught Stephen’s eye and gave him a nod. Dark curly hair and an attitude befitting the most determined lawman . . . or criminal thug. For some reason Stephen was reminded of the shadowy man who earlier had been pounding the letter box, but he had not gotten a goodlook at him. There were plenty of odd sorts on his route. No reason he should think those two might be one and the same. Stephen acknowledged the horseman and then gathered the mail for house number 503.
    Out of the ordinary? Odd? Indeed. There was nothing mundane about the streets of New York.

8
    O N T HURSDAY MORNING, just as Annie finished trimming all the candlewicks on the main floor, a loud rapping erupted at the front door. She hurried to answer it.
    A man dressed in dark-blue clothing and a string tie stood on the stoop.
    “May I help you?”
    He glanced to the candlewick trimmer in her hand. “The housekeeper, I assume?”
    “I am. And you are?”
    “Clayton Cooper of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, miss.” He pointed to a silver badge, official looking, but unlike the one Grace’s betrothed wore. “I planned to come by earlier, but headquarters sent me off on an unrelated case.” He cleared his throat. “Oh, never mind that. I am here now.”
    “Oh, aye . . . What do you want?” She started to slowly close the door a bit in case she needed to push him out. She had never seen a detective or whatever he claimed to be in the neighborhood before, and she wondered if this might be Kirsten’s shadow.
    He slipped a brogue against the doorjamb.
    “I have duties to attend to, sir, so I must ask again what your business is here.”
    “Forgive me. I am here to inquire about a young lady, someone who has on occasion entered your house late at night.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking