Unseemly Ambition by K.B. Owen Page A

have been trying to keep
their daughter’s secret, which is a moot point now. One would think
that catching the killer would take precedence.”
    “ Are they so influential
that the police chief would accede to their wishes?” Sophia
asked.
    “ I don’t know.”
    “ Can you investigate on
your own time, without Stiles finding out?” Concordia
asked.
    “ I’m afraid that’s
impossible.” Capshaw said. “He warned me about attempting that very
thing. My activities will be closely monitored.”
    Concordia bit back her disappointment.
The boy’s continued absence was twisting her stomach with worry.
Sophia and Capshaw must feel it even more deeply. Where could he
be? She hadn’t realized until now that all of her hope was resting
upon Capshaw’s detective abilities.
    He was the only detective she knew,
and now….
    She sat up a little
straighter. Capshaw was not the only detective she knew. There was someone
else.
    The ever-perceptive Capshaw gave her a
sharp glance. “You’ve thought of something.”
    “ I’m not sure you’re going
to like this. I think we need to call in an old friend to help
us.”
    Sophia eyed them in confusion.
“Who?”
    Capshaw tapped his pencil
thoughtfully. “Ah. You mean….”
    “ Yes,” Concordia said,
“Penelope Hamilton.”
    Sophia narrowed her eyes, puzzled.
“Miss Hamilton…wasn’t she the lady principal at the college a few
years ago? When you first started teaching there. How could she
possibly help us?”
    Concordia gave her a wide
grin. “Not many people know this, Sophie, but Miss Hamilton is
a Pinkerton . If
anyone can help us, she can.”
     
     

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
     
    You have been hotly
call’d for.
    Othello , I.ii
     
    Week 5, Instructor Calendar
    March 1898
     
    It was well past dark when Concordia
reached the gate of Hartford Women’s College. Clyde scowled in
disapproval as he passed her a slip of paper.
    “ Miss Pomeroy left this for
ya,” he said.
    With a murmur of thanks, Concordia
opened it.
    Concordia, please come to
my office when you get this. We need to have a chat. Yours,
Gertrude Pomeroy.
    Concordia’s heart sank. While the tone
of the note was cordial enough, she knew she was in
trouble.
    Only a few lamps glowed in the windows
of Founder’s Hall as Concordia crossed the quadrangle. No one
lingered outside on this chill March evening. She thought back to
her conversation with Capshaw, about the stranger—two of them—who
had been slipping onto campus at odd hours. For what purpose? She
shivered, and glanced over her shoulder one last time as she pulled
open the door of the Hall.
    The lady principal’s light was on.
Concordia rapped lightly on the partly open door.
    “ Come in!”
    “ I received your note, Miss
Pomeroy,” Concordia began hesitantly.
    “ Yes, yes,” Gertrude
Pomeroy said, pushing her spectacles back up her nose as she turned
away from her work. “Do sit down.”
    Once again, that posed a problem, as
every surface was littered with papers and books.
    “ Here,” Miss Pomeroy said,
shifting one pile aside and plunking it on top of another. “I’ve
been meaning to straighten things,” she added vaguely.
    “ Now, Concordia,” the lady
principal said, when they both were seated, “I don’t want you to
take this the wrong way, my dear. You are an excellent teacher, and
your work is exemplary, but there is an issue….” Her voice trailed
off, and she hesitated.
    Concordia sighed, knowing that
discipline was not Miss Pomeroy’s strong suit. “Miss Pomeroy, I
understand what you’re trying to say.”
    Miss Pomeroy leaned forward in
surprise. “You do?”
    “ You’re unhappy with my
frequent absences from campus lately. I’m quite sorry for that.
I’ve had some personal...issues come up.”
    She didn’t want to have to explain
about Florence’s murder, Eli’s disappearance, or the setback in the
investigation. Miss Pomeroy didn’t know these people, except for
Eli, whom she probably hadn’t paid much