Free Almost a Lady by Heidi Betts Page A

as an excuse to cover her face with gloved hands.
    By the time she reached the Pinkerton offices, the streets were empty. Her fear of being discovered lessened considerably, but still she continued with her hunched, irregular gait and an occasional rumble from her chest. She fell against the side of the building, staggering drunkenly up the few steps to the front stoop.
    Fumbling around in her pocket, she removed one of the lock-picking devices from her collection. To conceal it from the view of anyone who might glance in her direction, she lifted a half-empty bottle of rum to her lips, at the same time working a tiny gadget into the keyhole. Just as she felt the lock begin to give, the pick slipped. She let loose with a sailor's curse.
    Bringing the bottle to her lips once again, she dug into her pocket for an older, more reliable tool. A hairpin.
    With the skill of an experienced craftsman, she slipped the pin inside and wiggled it around. Seconds later, she felt the lock loosen. Leaving the rum on the doorstep, she turned the knob and sneaked inside the dark building. From memory, she moved through the outer office, using her hands to avoid running into Mrs. Girard's desk.
    Once she reached Robert's office, her trepidation eased. This room had only one small window with a view of the alley and the brick building next door. With the curtains drawn, no one would ever notice the low glow of lamplight inside an establishment supposedly abandoned for the night.
    She struck a match and held it to the wick of the crystal-domed lamp on the corner of Robert's desk. Soft yellow illuminated the center of the room, casting only the slightest glimmer of light into the corners.
    Willow moved to the file cabinets, searching for the employee file on Charles Barker. Seated behind the desk, she began scanning the information found there. At first she saw nothing of significance. Employment history, personal facts—all information she had already been given. Nothing that would have gotten him killed.
    She wondered if Robert had already gutted Charlie's file. It was a well-known fact within the Agency that case information remained in the file of the assigned agent until the situation was resolved. Then, it was all moved to a separate file under the case name and identification number.
    Had Robert already transferred the paperwork? If so, she would never find out what Charlie was working on. She could spend a week's worth of evenings going through case files and she still might never stumble across the one that got Charlie killed. It would be like searching for a rat in a rattler's nest.
    She was about to give up when a thought hit her: What if Superintendent Warner was keeping the paperwork on his desk? Willow balked at the idea of rifling through his possessions. At least if she got caught in Robert's office, she was pretty sure she could talk her way out of it. But Francis Warner was not known for his tolerant nature. He would not only pepper her with a harsh reprimand, but she would probably find herself without a job by morning.
    Which, if the Ambassador clock hanging on the wall next to the door could be relied upon, was fewer than seven hours away. It had seemed like forever before she was sure Brandt would stay in his room and she could sneak out of the hotel. And she would have to be back in her room, in her nightdress, before sunup. Brandt would arrive at her door not long after, expecting her to be rested and ready to get to work.
    She sifted through the rest of Charlie's file and found nothing. Disappointed but determined, she tried to think of where else Robert might be keeping the information.
    Probably under lock and key, she thought.
    Of course. Under lock and key. Hadn't Robert once confided in her that there was a secret wall safe in his office? Behind a painting of some kind?
    She whirled around. There were pictures on every wall.
    Starting with the one closest to her, she began tilting them sideways to look beneath.