The Reluctant Pinkerton Read Online Free PDF Page A

Street, stopped in a small saloon he used to frequent. There were no familiar faces there, which suited him just fine. He had a beer and then walked back to his hotel. He’d begun rereading Mark Twain’s
Life on the Mississippi
on the train and was halfway through it. He read it until he got sleepy, then turned in.
    Tomorrow promised to be a long day.
    *   *   *
    Roper arrived early at Pinkerton’s palatial home on West Adams. The old boy had done very well for himself. A man in a suit nodded to him as he went through the front door.
    “Have you seen William or Robert yet?” Roper asked.
    “Yes, sir, they’re inside.”
    “Thanks.”
    Roper went inside, where people were milling about, the men dressed like himself in dark suits, the women in demure but—in some cases—expensive dresses. Some of the men were holding drinks, and Roper eventually tracked down the source, a bar set up in one of the rooms.
    He got himself a whiskey and listened to the talk in the room. He heard several different versions of Allan Pinkerton’s cause of death, including a stroke. He knew Allan had suffered one in 1869, after which he had pretty much turned over the operation of the agency to his sons, William and Robert.
    “Roper,” he heard someone say.
    He turned, drink in hand, and saw Allan Pinkerton’s older son approaching him. William was tall and slender, acouple of years under forty, with dark hair that came to a widow’s peak.
    He put his hand out and Roper shook it.
    “Thanks for coming,” William said.
    “It seemed fairly important to you and your brother,” Roper said. “I got back from out of town and found your telegrams.”
    “We figured you must’ve been out on a case somewhere. I’m glad you were able to make it.”
    “Just barely,” Roper said. “Got here yesterday.”
    A tall, gray-haired man appeared at William’s elbow and said, “It’s time, William.”
    “Roper, this is the Reverend Dr. Thomas. He’s going to perform the service. Reverend, this is Talbot Roper, an old friend of the family.”
    “Sir.”
    “I’ll be right there,” William said to the reverend, who nodded and withdrew.
    Roper was surprised by the sobriquet “old friend of the family” as it came out of William’s mouth.
    “Roper, Robert and I would like to talk to you. Would you have a late dinner with us tonight?”
    “Sure,” Roper said. “Why not?”
    “Good.”
    “How did your dad die anyway?” he asked. “I’ve heard several different stories.”
    “Tonight,” William said, putting his hand on Roper’s arm. “You’ll hear everything tonight.”
    William left the room, and a procession of people followed, including Roper.
    In another room—this one with high ceilings—Allan Pinkerton lay in a casket at the front. William joined Robert and their sister, Cecily, and her family in a front row of seats. Allan Pinkerton’s wife had preceded him to the grave earlier that year.
    Roper deliberately sat in the back row during the service, which was dignified and short. The reverend did all the talking, with Allan’s sons choosing to remain silent. Thesound of Cecily’s sobbing filled the room, her husband cradling her.
    When it was over, Roper stood up quickly and made his way out before the crowd. He was sure there were statesmen and celebrities in attendance, but he didn’t recognize any. He got himself outside the building before anyone else, and stood off to the side.
    Pallbearers carried Pinkerton’s casket to a horse-drawn hearse and loaded it on the back.
    “He’ll be taken to Graceland Cemetery.”
    Roper turned, saw Robert Pinkerton standing next to him. A couple of years younger than William, he was also tall and slender.
    “You don’t need to go there if you don’t want to,” Robert said.
    “Thanks,” Roper said. “I think I will pass.”
    “It’s mostly family and close friends anyway.”
    Obviously, Robert did not think of Roper as a “close friend of the family.”
    “Will