It was a dreary night when Inspector Emmett Fields was laboring steadying over a stack of papers. The case was a tediously dull one and called for much attention. Life had suddenly become strange to him after he returned from Paris.
It was almost as though he were living in a mundane dream. He needed some time away from his work-that was the only thing that could revive him and recreate his idealism in the law. Yes, time away would be ideal-he would go anywhere, to New Orleans, London, or even Rome.
He cleared his throat and shuffled the papers on his desk to redirect his focus. How dull, how tedious this case was! All the paperwork involved, all the organization, the dating, the signatures! he had been at this for almost five hours. Another hour and he would go to bed.
The clock was nearly striking a quarter to midnight when he heard a muffled tapping on his door above the torrents of the storm. Dimly wondering who it could possibly be, Fields retrieved pistol from his inside his desk. Certainly Ivan Reynolds was dead but that did not mean anything. The man had left a deep impression on Fields about the depths of the mentality of a madman. If Reynolds was such an ardent admirer of Poe, then who is to say that another who had read an account of Reynolds in the papers and decided to do away with the man who killed him?
Careful, but bold, Fields threw open the door.
The rain came in droves, but a bundled figure accompanied it. Hooded and cloaked it made its way to the fire and placed gloved hands over it as Fields tightly bolted the door again.
"May I help you?" he asked briskly, keeping his pistol at his side, but cocked and ready for firing.
The figure turned to him and removed it's hood.
It was a young woman.
She was slender and fair, with beautiful large eyes and curly hair that hung about her shoulders. She was so beautiful and childlike and yet there was a fire in her eyes as she spoke in a businesslike manner, "Are you the police inspector?"
"I am Detective Fields, please sit." He said graciously.
"I apologize for coming to you in this way, but I need some advice-some legal advice, if you do not mind." She said taking a chair near the fire.
"I am not in any way a lawyer, but we shall what I can do," Fields said, removing a notepad and pencil from the pocket of his coat which was slung over the desk chair. "Now firstly, let us start with your name."
A fearful expression leapt into her eyes and Fields was sharply reminded of the expressions of a hunted animal. "Are you in some kind of police trouble?"
"I've come here for your help, haven't I?" She countered simply.
"Are you in trouble with the police?" he asked again but then softened in his expression and said politely. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning and we shall go from there. I promise you that I would do nothing until you finish what you must."
"Very well," She said and sighed. "My name is Vivian Summers and I am twenty one years of age. I work as an understudy for Signora Mariana Cruz. "
"An opera singer, then?" Fields asked, recalling how he had read a recent account of the Spanish soprano's success in Faust.
"Yes."
"Continue."
"I know that I have a rather unusual request, but it's urgent, so I must tell you boldly, I need protection."
"Protection?" Fields repeated. "From whom?"
"Let me begin by telling you a bit about myself," She countered. "My mother had died giving birth to me. When I was ten my father remarried a woman who had two daughters. Although he seemed to love them, I couldn't help but know that he loved me best.
' My father was a good man, truly he was, but he had one fault: and that was he always had been eager to become rich quickly- always he was interested in hare-brained schemes, but they never panned out. When the miners made the big gold rush last year, he followed them. He had gotten it into his head that he would be the greatest prospector in all the Rocky Mountains-the richest, you know.
'Then suddenly he began to act strangely. He kept hinting about an enormous treasure but said nothing definite. Without warning, he moved us from the west to Northern Tennessee. He kept saying when the time was right; we'd all be as rich as kings."
"But it never happened?"
"No. He died shortly after."
"Sickness?"
"A fall from his horse." Vivian lifted her eyes to him. "I will not pretend that I did not think he was strange, for he was always strange ever since I could remember. But he wasn't as crazy as some think."
"Hmm," Fields mused. "In what way do you need protection?"
"I said before that I was my father's only child and dare I say his pet. Before he died he spoke of a secret treasure. My sisters and their husbands had learned of it, and even though before they had sworn that my father was a madman and his claim ludicrous, they acted as though they thought I certain had information regarding this treasure."
"What happened next?"
"They tried to obtain it legally."
"I don't understand. In what way are you in danger?" Fields asked.
"You do know that the only way that they could have legal access to my belongings or out of the way is if I were dead or insane. They began to try having me legally committed to an asylum. I've runaway to here from Kingsport three months ago." Vivian said deftly.
"But surely to have someone committed they would need a doctor and a lawyer's signature."
"My sister's husband is a lawyer," Vivian told him. "And they have a friend who was the town's doctor."
"And this treasure idea, are you absolutely certain that it is something valuable?"
"Positive. Or else why would they go through all the trouble?"
"It could be a gamble." Fields said. "You yourself had said that you were your father's pet, if jealousy has made them go thus far, then they would have you committed, legally, to get you out of their way and punish you for your father's admiration. If they happen to find something in the process, then they were just lucky all the way around. But why have you come here now?"
"I was living a good life until this week, sir. " She said and then leaned forward saying breathlessly, "I think they've found me."
"Your family?"
"Yes" Vivian said. "Lately I've felt that someone was watching me every where I go, then I started catching glimpses of them from the corner of my eyes. I told myself that it was merely nerves and that I was confused, perhaps. Than I got this in my letterbox." She withdrew a scrap of paper from her handpurse.
"'Think you can run forever?'" Fields read aloud. "Was this it?"
"Yes."
Fields exhaled deeply. This was a new problem such as he never had before.
"Miss Summers, I am the head police inspector for Baltimore, not a private detective." He told her hesitantly. "Nor a treasure hunter."
"If it is a question of money, I have plenty to offer you-on hand." She said, suddenly cold.
Fields laughed. "Money does not interest me, you can rest assured on that. No, it is just that I am terribly busy."
"What if I were to tell you that it is a matter of life and death?" Vivian asked.
"Have they threatened to kill you?" He asked. "Have they tried?"
"Just know that if they ever shall commit me, I shall kill myself first." Vivian said. "If you cannot help, then do try to advise me, please."
"There is nothing that I can say to you," Fields said. "Except this, if they happen to obtain legal documents that can commit you, no matter how sane you truly are then there is nothing that anyone would be able to do. The law is, I'm afraid, unfair in that respect. The entire world can know that you are sane, but what can it do against the law? So my advice to you is to leave this country as soon as possible. Does this make sense to you?"
"Yes, it does," Vivian nodded helplessly. Hesitantly she arose. "Thank you for your time and I am sorry to disturb you at such an hour. Good evening, Detective."
"Where are your lodgings?" He asked suddenly.
"On the other side of the city, but I shall be alright." She replied.
"I cannot not let you go out into that storm alone," Fields said putting on his coat.
"I insist not." Vivian said. "I've already put you through enough trouble as it is." And so saying, she opened the door and suddenly she froze as she stared out into the darkness illuminated by a lightning bolt.
Fields tried to peer past her, but could see nothing. A feeling of dread seemed to come over him. "Please, stay here. I have an extra room that is never put to use."
"Thank you, sir, but I can't."
"It will be alright-you can trust staying here with me," Fields said quietly, treading lightly behind her.
"Alright," Vivian shut the door with great force and fumbled with the latch to bolt it. Fields helped her and noticed a fearful tremor in her hands as he did so. "If you would be so kind…" she said. '
The room that Fields had in mind was a small whitewashed garret with an iron bedstead, a bureau and a mirror. The room overlooked the front street and white lace curtains hung over the window panes. Truly it was a quaint little room, but never put to use as Emmett was a confirmed bachelor and whose busy life was only filled with colleagues.
Vivian suffered from trembling fear as the storm raged on, but soon fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Fields on the other hand tried to return to his papers, but found his mind wandering over the case of this strange girl. Who was she really? And was she telling the truth about being declared insane for her wealth or was she actually insane with a story to tell? And why was she suddenly seized with a shaking terror when she opened the door? Fields' logical mind told him that perhaps she saw, or thought she saw and recognized someone or something out there when the lightening illuminated the night.
His mind worked feverishly against him and it was only when he fell into a fitful sleep upon his desk did he find solitude.