Free Ill-Fame (A Detective Harm Queen Novel Book 2) by Erik Rivenes Page A

times.
    “My dear,” he pled, desperation ringing through his voice. “It is so wonderful to see you again.”
    As soon as he spoke, the memories came on like a muddy flood. It was all she could do not to scream at the top of her lungs, but she stopped herself from striking the alarm by biting her lip so hard that blood soaked her chin.
    “You left me to them, you bastard,” she hissed in a low, steaming rage.
    “I was outnumbered!”
    “You were a police sergeant! How could you let them take me?”
    “There were too many,” he moaned, stepping forward fully into the glare of the lamp. His face was paunchy and fallen, like a lump of wax left too long in the sun. He reeked of whiskey, and looked like death. This was her Uncle Martin Baum. Or the bloated shell of him, at least.
    “I am so overjoyed that you are alive, Maisy. If Dix could only see you now.”
    “Shut your mouth,” she snapped. “You’ve no right to say those things. You were never my blood. Only my grandfather’s friend. And never mine.”
    “But I was, my dear. I’ve always been so fond of you....”
    “Did you not hear me?” She caught a sob in her throat, and then turned away wildly, not wanting him to see her.
    Let me say what I have to say, and be done with it, she told herself. She wiped her eyes and turned back around.
    “I remember that day with an accuracy so painfully sharp you can’t even imagine. You promised my grandfather that you would escort me, yourself, to the university. You told me that my grandfather had wired you and asked that you meet me.”
    “Yes, that is true! And I had every intention...”
    “I don’t care what your intentions were. You drove the buggy to a neighborhood we never should have gone, and let those men take me. I’d been sitting right next to you!”
    “They were heeled with guns and knives, and got to me before I could draw my revolver.”
    “I saw them,” she snarled, “and I saw you see them. You recognized them.”
    “I-I didn’t!”
    “You did, I’m certain of it. And you let them take me, and you never came to get me.”
    Martin Baum burst into tears. He held his face in his hands, and wailed with all of the anguish of a tortured soul.
    “ Shut it,” she seethed. “Shut it. You’re going to make it up to me now. Do you understand?”
    He looked up, wet, bloodshot eyes blinking between his fingers.
    “If you ever loved me, like you claim you do, and you truly didn’t mean to leave me there with those jackals, then you’ll do what I ask now.”
    “What is it?” He smeared his face with his sleeve and looked at her, quivering. “What? What do you want me to do? Anything, Maisy. I’ll do anything!”
    “You’re going to kill Jiggs Kilbane.”
    “Wha...? How? When? Where?”
    She pulled a gun from inside her dress and pointed it towards a rusty orange door embedded into the stone wall.
    “With this. In fifteen minutes. When he walks in through that door.”
     
     

CHAPTER 10
     
     
    It truly was a magnificent day, Queen admitted, as the wagon reached Summit Hill. It was a day he’d prefer spending with Karoline right now, in his new gig, leisurely enjoying the sights. On the right stood a masterpiece of Gilded Age architecture, the James J. Hill House, owned by one of America’s most powerful men. The railroad magnate’s massive red stone mansion perched on the edge of the Mississippi River bluff.
    Snorre stopped the wagon and took out a snuff box. He stuffed some tobacco into his mouth, and then offered some to Queen, who shook his head.
    The detective felt fortunate, actually, not to have to make small talk with his present company. He never felt like small talk with anyone. Action was his preference.
    And they’d made it almost to their destination without things getting warm, which was a relief. The panorama of downtown Saint Paul opened to them as Snorre urged his team of horses forward, and he took the moment to savor the view. To the north was the polished