Fiona lay in bed, the breakfast on the tray on her lap untouched.
She rang Penelope to come and take it, as she had the previous two days. Her once healthy appetite had disappeared with the death of her little Ramona.
As she waited for Penelope to come and get the tray, her father came into the room and shook his head at what he saw.
"Fiona, you've never stayed in your room in your life. Good lord, girl, you're pale as a ghost and you're getting married in a few days. What will Corky think when he sees you like this?"
Fiona turned her head away, "I'm wearing pink, I won't look so pale in that. I'm just not hungry, I don't have any energy. I keep thinking maybe I could have done something to prevent Ramona's death."
"Fiona, ye have the heart of a saint, but the lass wasn't deserving of it. If she needed help she should have asked ye, but did she say anything? No. She chose what she thought was the easy way out."
He sat on the side of her bed. "Now, I want you to get up and get dressed. Black Jack hasn't been exercised properly by the grooms at the stable. What he needs and what you need is a nice day out and a good long gallop. You're the only one besides me who can handle that horse, and you've not been riding in a long time. Get outside and get some fresh air. And Fiona, that's an order."
She threw her arms around her father and started crying. He stroked her hair saying, "There, there. You get out of that bed and go outside, I guarantee you'll feel better." He kissed the top of her head and left her room.
She lay back on her pillow and stared at the ceiling. Suddenly her spacious room seemed like a prison cell. She jumped up and dug through her wardrobe for her trousers and a shirt. Suddenly the spring sunshine was a siren call and she could stay inside no longer.
She kept her head down as she walked to the livery stables. She ordered her horse and her western style saddle and supervised the saddling and bridling. She inspected the cinch and the throat latch of the bridle, then swung up into the saddle, anticipating the joy she felt every time she rode.
She kept Black Jack at a walk as they made their way out of the city. He was fresh, impatient at being kept being made to walk. She kept him reined in, not giving him his head. When they reached the fields outside the city he exploded and she went along for the ride, enjoying it as much as he.
They had the meadows to themselves and he galloped until he tired, changing to a jog, and then to a walk. She took him along slowly to cool him, then dismounted and led him until the sweat on his shoulders started to dry. She took out the hobbles and put them on his front legs, then looped the reins over the pommel of the saddle and let him graze.
She rested her back against a giant boulder, and sighed. "I haven't been riding enough. I'm going to keep a horse, even if Kevin objects. I'll get one for him, too. He's Irish, horses are part of his legacy, too. Maybe I'll cut off my hair and disguise myself as a boy and go work for a stable. August Belmont is talking about building a race track with Leonard Jerome. I'll put on my best brogue and show them how much I know. Maybe I can get a job exercising horses—as long as I can pass for a boy.
A woman came trudging by, shotgun in hand, her game bag bulging with birds. "Good morning to you," Fiona called out in her best working class accent, "Good hunting?"
"Aye," she said and sat down next to Fiona, "I had to go a ways to find some birds, but they're nice ones, and should fetch a good price in town." She took the cigarette Fiona offered her, and they sat for a while, smoking and saying nothing."
"That's a nice stallion there, he must have cost a pretty penny. You must live in town, then. The city's not for me, I prefer it out here."
"I don't blame you," said Fiona, "There's a lot of ugliness, but it's all I know. I was born and raised in Five Points. There's good people there, more than I can say for where I live now. Thank heaven the man I'm marrying isn't from uptown. It may be a harder life, but I don't mind, I feel like I'm coming home."
"Well, that's strange," the woman replied, "But I think I understand. And congratulations on your marrying, it was never for me. I prefer to live my life on my own terms, without a man to complicate things."
"Oh, I plan on complicating things for him," Fiona grinned, "But he knows that. He knows who he's getting so he can't have no complaints. Lord knows he's a thick skulled Irishman, but a good man for all that."
The woman stood up and shouldered her game bag. "Well, thanks for the cheroot. If you find yourself wanting some game, ask those around here for Mary Swanson, I'll give you a nice deal on a haunch of venison." She raised her gun in salute and wandered off.
Fiona finished her cigarette as she watched the horse graze. Right now this was perfect, she saw no need in going back. She would get on Black Jack's back and start riding, and ride forever. No more uptown, no more Five Points, no wedding…
"Shit," she jumped up. A dinner tonight, hosted by her stepmother. The Captain, the Morehouse's, representatives from Tammany, including that damn Wild Bill Eustace. Who, she was sure, had never forgiven her for rejecting his suit. She wondered who would have a harder time being gracious, her or Corky.
One last stop then. She unwound the reins from the pommel and undid the hobbles. She mounted Black Jack and headed into town, wondering if she could find Corky. Thank God being Donovan's daughter elevated her to near royalty in the Sixth Precinct. Since Corky had promised to keep abreast of new developments on the case of the murdered girls, she was going to show him she intended to hold him to that promise. He had been strangely silent since their last meeting, and that made her suspicious. He'd be capable of holding back if he thought it in his or her best interest. Time to let her fiancé know that would not do, not with her.
It was a nice canter through the countryside, then slowing down as she reached the city. People made way for the big stallion as he walked slowly through the city. Fiona smiled and nodded at people—it was nice to be recognized as an ordinary person, and not the ward boss' daughter. Soon she would be hearing, "Good morning Mrs. Corcoran", "Good day to you Mrs. Corcoran", and she wasn't sure she was ready to hear it. From a daughter to a wife, no in between. If it wasn't for the man she was marrying, she wasn't sure it would be worth it.
She found a stable not far from the precinct house, instructing one of the stable hands to walk Black Jack until he was cool. She promised a fair price if it was done correctly, putting the fear of God into the grooms if it wasn't. She gave the horse a cube of sugar she had in her pocket, patting him on the neck and promising him she'd be back soon.
She strolled into the precinct house and went back to where Kevin sat at his desk. She saw him slide something into the desk drawer, then closing it, trying to keep her from seeing. She undid three of her shirt buttons then came to the side of Kevin's desk, enjoying the look of embarrassment on his face.
"So I was right," she thought, "You are hiding something from me." She leaned over the desk so that he had to look at the open neck of her shirt. "I've had a long ride, Kevin, can you get me a whisky before I go home?"
"Button up your damn shirt, girl," he whispered, trying to keep anyone from hearing, "You don't know who can see you. And why aren't you getting ready for dinner tonight?"
She smiled at his discomfort. "Plenty of time for that, my love. And, get me a whisky and I'll do up my shirt. Go ask Sully and tell him it's for me. He's coming tonight, you know. Now be sweet and get my drink."
He glared at her, but reluctantly did as he was told. She looked around, then slowly opened the desk drawer and drew a drawing from it. It lay on top so it must have been what he was trying to conceal. She carefully folded it and put it in her jacket, then sat down in his chair and slowly did up her buttons.
He returned with a glass that held a generous portion of whisky. "Good old Sully," she thought, she hoped he wouldn't become too obsequious once she and Kevin were married. Kevin wouldn't like anyone playing up to him and she didn't want it to happen. If Kevin had a little more leeway to solve cases as he pleased, that would be fine. No more though, for him or her.
He handed the glass to her, saying, "Get out of my chair." She smiled and got up, opening her jacket so that he could see she'd buttoned her shirt. She knew her smile infuriated him, so for good measure she started laughing.
"One of these days, Fiona," he growled, but he was defeated and he knew it.
She drained her glass and set it on his desk. "Don't be late, tonight, Mama will have vapors. I don't know why we have to do this, but everyone else seems to think it necessary. I thought we were having a simple, small wedding, but it's turning into an event. I'm even going to have to be nice to Wild Bill Eustace, and I cannot abide that man. If I have to deal with this, it's only fair that you do too."
He surprised her by giving her a quick kiss on the lips, then waved her off. She left the squad room feeling pleased with herself. She even gave the groom at the stable a more generous tip than she'd intended to.
When he was sure she was gone, Corcoran opened up the drawer he had stashed a piece of paper with a drawing on it. To his dismay, he found it missing. "Damn you, Fiona," he thought, she'd played him for a fool. "Please girl, for once in your life don't go off on your own with this." He feared for her and her overconfidence and belief in her luck. He'd have to corner her tonight and beg her to be sensible. Maybe this time she'd listen to reason.
Things were in an uproar when she got home. As organized as Mrs. Donovan could be in ordinary life, she thought it appropriate to feel hysterical and on the edge of panic when it came to entertaining. Her minx of a step daughter, the subject for this occasion had not yet showed, and she needed to bathe and get dressed. She looked up again at the clock, afraid Fiona would behave as she usually did—show up just in time to get ready and not lend her any help. If she wasn't such a sweet girl, she'd like to shake her silly.
"Hey, Ma," Fiona called out as she came in the door. "Never fear, I'm here and I'm going upstairs to get ready. Do they have hot water for me?"
"It would serve you right if they didn't," Mrs. Donovan answered, "And you smell most dreadfully of horse and there's no time to wash your hair." The closest Mrs. Donovan cared to get to a horse was in a carriage.
"Ah, Ma," Fiona patted her affectionately on the cheek, "Soon you'll be getting rid of me and you won't have to deal with that dreadful horse smell anymore." She started going up the stairs two at a time in a most unladylike fashion. Fiona knew her stepmother was fond of her, and would gladly have her stay, but as her husband favored this marriage, so did she.
Rose was waiting in her room, pointed pouring in more hot water in the tub. Fiona removed her clothes and sank down in the hot water. Rose handed her the jasmine soap she ordered all the way from Paris and supervised her bathing, anointing her hair with cologne and running the brush through it.
When she was clean enough to pass Rose's inspection, she got out of the tub and dried off. Next was the ordeal of the corset, hoops, and all the garments that were deemed necessary to go under a lady's dress. Next came the turquoise taffeta gown trimmed with black lace that almost matched the color of her eyes.
"Fiona, let me do something different with your hair," Rose begged, but Fiona shook her head. Together she and Rose managed to twist her heavy mane into something resembling a chignon pushed up towards the top of her head. The final touch added was turquoise and silver earrings that dangled low and gave her a gypsy look.
"Well, Corky should be pleased," Rose said with some satisfaction, "I'm sure he prefers to see you looking like a lady…"
"As opposed to a hoyden?" Fiona raised her brows. "He ought to know I'm a bit of both. If he has any complaint he should try wearing a corset and a crinoline, which I swear were invented as instruments of torture—or to curtail a woman's activities. I'm who I am, Rosie, and I don't want to be anyone different."
"Well, you certainly are that," laughed Rose, "Now yourself downstairs and face the music. This will be easy compared to the wedding, wait and see."
Fiona kissed her and headed down the stairs. The only guest who had arrived was Kevin, and he gave her an appreciative look as she came slowly down the stairs. It was nice being desired by your fiancé, she decided, she knew how hungry she was for him and hoped they could steal away for a little while after the party was over. Their rehearsals for the marriage bed were proving more than successful. Kevin was a passionate, yet considerate lover. There would be no trouble with that part of their marriage."
"I think you have something that belongs to me," he whispered, "When were you planning on giving it back? Or were you?"
"When I'm done, you can have it back. If I recall, there was an identical drawing done in ink. Flynn's handiwork, was it? I've seen his stuff, he's really quite good."
Their conversation was cut off when they entered the living room. The first to arrive was Captain Sullivan, a sweet man but tiresome in Fiona's opinion. "Wild" Bill Eustace came next, alone, still unable to find someone who could tolerate him, she thought. The Morehouses came and Robert bent over her hand, telling her how lovely she looked, the loveliest woman in the room. Elizabeth did not look pleased.
Both Kevin and Fiona were pleased when the Freemans, Maguire, and Andrew and Sybil showed. If they had to endure this, it would be with friends. Sybil was overwhelmed at the grandeur she saw, Fiona offered to take her on a tour. As they made their way through the rooms, Sybil asked if it wasn't going to be hard to leave such luxury behind. Fiona surprised her by saying yes, but reminded her that this was not the way her life had started. She and Kevin were doing little things to make his house their home, leaving behind the memory of his marriage to Ellen. Perhaps not a fresh start, but something they could work at to make it theirs.
The evening was long, people seemed to linger when Fiona would rather that they'd leave. When at last they were alone, Fiona and Kevin drew Robert, Andrew, and Francis into Donovan's study, and Fiona pulled out the drawing.
"It took me a while, but I remembered where I saw this face. I was in the Bowery, trying to see if anyone had seen the two girls that you found after the first three floaters turned up, the ones who hadn't been in the water that long. And I thought, this looks a lot like a man who tried to force me to go with him. Then Flynn saw the same man, I'm sure of it, who was looking for something in the alley the day after Ramona was killed."
"So now we have a face, and a location. I'm sure he's gentry, when I saw him he was dressed very expensively. The cape is top quality silk, and I think Flynn would describe him as well dressed."
"So, someone most likely upper class, or at least wealthy," added Robert. "The Bowery Theatre is a popular place to go for entertainment, and since the whores frequent there, hoping to pick up johns, he has a convenient hunting ground."
"And who cares what happens to whores? No coppers around to protect them. If they have a pimp, the pimps are pretty much useless. And late at night no one will see him dispose of a body if he wants to." Andrew was pleased to have something to add to the conversation.
"I could identify this person if I saw him again, I think, but I don't want to frequent the Bowery every night trying to find him. It's going to take a decoy to flush him out since we really don't know who he is." Fiona looked at Kevin defiantly, daring him to disagree with her.
"But you're not going to be the one to do it, darlin'." He put his arm around her shoulders to make his point. "And we're getting married on Saturday, so put any thoughts of playing detective out of your head."
"Bastard," she murmured under her breath and he squeezed her leg to let her know he heard.
"Well, nothing's going to get solved tonight," Robert, ever diplomatic stood up, "Corky, can you get me some copies of that drawing? I have friends I want to show it to—we may be able to find out who he is. There's nothing much will be solved between now and the wedding, we can only hope our killer will stay quiet for a while."
They made their goodbyes, for it was late. Kevin and Fiona sat on the sofa, smoking and having a last whisky for the night. Kevin pushed her back on the sofa, pulling at her undergarments as he told her, "Stay out of this now, I mean it. I don't want to lose you. Stay away from the Bowery." His hands were finding her and she cursed him and those hands she could never resist. Her one consolation was that he could no more resist her than she could him.
And as far as she was concerned, the subject was not settled.