Brides of the Storm by Amanda Albright Still

Author:Amanda Albright Still
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, paranormal, historical, historicalfiction, historicalmystery, femalesleuth, paranormalmystery, sherlockholmespastiche
Publisher: Gone Feral Publishing

"Where now?" I asked once we were on the street.

"I am going to my office to do work unrelated to this case. I suggest you go home."

I slowed my pace. The horror of what I had seen descended on me. Even worse, the realization descended of the wedge Lucinda’s return had driven between my daughters and me. "My daughters think their original parents might have survived. Now, they’re going to think they might have survived and might be in danger."

Barker kicked a pebble into the street. "I don’t know if I can find proof of their deaths--so many died that we just don’t know--but I can make some inquiries, if you would like."

I shook my head. "I don’t want you to do that, but I think you should. Thank you."

He moved his hand behind my back either to pat me or give me a sideways hug, but the hand dropped before any contact was made.

"He was with Winnie," I said. I kept pace with Barker’s long strides.

"Yes, I heard."

"That gives each one an alibi."

"Or an accomplice."

I stopped at the streetcar sign. With the overhead wire, they were now electric everywhere in the city. The mules had been retired. "How much of what we heard can I tell Winnie?"

"I know enough of women to know not to stop one from gossiping."

I turned toward him with a sour sneer and saw he was smiling back at me. "You were teasing, weren’t you? I’m no good at that."

A trolley rumbled to a stop before us.

He said nothing, but he handed me the crumpled, damp piece of paper he had found near the incandescent lights.

"Goodbye, Daria." Barker tipped his hat, but then leaned down and whispered in my ear. "I’ll see you tonight. Around eleven-thirty."

"Where? What are we . . ."

I expected Barker to walk away after he bade me goodbye, but he escorted me to a seat on the green and gold trolley and sat beside me.

I looked at the piece of paper. The ink was smeared, but block-printed black letters could be made out that said:

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