An Untimely Frost by Penny Richards

Lilly took a carriage to the Pinkerton offices. Though she’d been to Chicago several times, the speed of its growth never ceased to amaze her. The ten years since the fire that had destroyed more than three square miles of the city had in some ways been a blessing. Narrow streets had been replaced with thoroughfares that were at least eighty feet wide, many of them paved with brick or cinder. Some were even macadamized, and gaslight illumination was common. Even the gutters seemed cleaner, she thought as her cab pulled to a stop at her destination.
    She entered the agency’s office and offered Harris a prim nod. He told her to be seated. She searched his eyes for any signs of recognition and found none. The knowledge gave her scant comfort. Did she really believe the Pinkerton men would be impressed with the fact that they had been tricked by a chit of a woman?
    â€œMrs. Partridge? The Misters Pinkerton will see you now.”
    Lilly rose, smoothed her palm over her graying wig and drab olive-colored skirt, and followed him to the inner office door.
    â€œThank you, Harris,” William said. Turning to Lilly, he said, “Please come in, Mrs. Partridge.”
    As she entered the room, Lilly noticed another man seated on the sofa next to Robert. She clamped her mouth shut lest her jaw drop open in surprise and did her best not to stare. Unless she was mistaken, the third man in the room was the celebrated Allan Pinkerton himself. Though he had come far since his stroke, the once-vigorous investigator was clearly not the robust man he once was. He had aged beyond his sixty-one years.
    â€œMrs. Partridge, I’d like you to meet my father, Allan Pinkerton, the founder of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency,” William said, gesturing toward his father.
    â€œForgive me for not standing, Mrs. Partridge,” the legendary detective said, “but I’ve walked more than ten miles today and am a bit weary.”
    Allan’s Scots accent was still thick, and his speech was somewhat slurred, but his shrewd gaze missed little. As silly as it was, Lilly’s first inclination was to curtsy. Instead, she crossed the room, leaned forward, and offered her hand. “Mr. Pinkerton,” she said in Mrs. Partridge’s grating voice. “What a pleasure to meet you. I’ve been a fan of your detective stories for some time, and my copy of your memoirs is quite dog-eared from so much reading.”
    â€œThank you for your kind words, Mrs. Partridge. My sons tell me that you have many qualities that might be useful in our line of business.”
    It didn’t escape Lilly’s notice that Robert’s mouth had drawn into a flat line of disapproval.
    â€œI believe so, sir.”
    William gestured for Lilly to take a seat, which she did, her back ramrod straight.
    â€œWe understand that you have no family to make demands on you,” he said, steering the conversation back to the task at hand, “and we wondered what your commitment might be to your current position.”
    â€œI haven’t taken a teaching post since coming from Texas,” Mrs. Partridge told them.
    They questioned her at length and in more depth about her schooling and the subjects she had studied, and asked her about her ideas on how to go about “detecting.” Appearing satisfied with the answers she gave, William said, “Of all the applicants, you appear to be the most qualified, except for one other whose credentials were impeccable but was far too young for our purposes.”
    â€œOh?”
    Allan Pinkerton laughed, a rusty, hardly used sound. “I’d like to have met the lass,” he said. “William was quite taken with her.”
    Lilly hadn’t expected that such an opportune time to reveal the truth would be dropped into her lap. “Really?” she said, in a slightly shaking voice. “Perhaps that can be arranged.”
    Without pausing long enough to lose her