That did it.
Jackson sucked in a breath, preparing to spew fire, when the stuffed goose of a fellow lifted to his toes. “I am the commissioner’s nephew. Did you not know?”
By all that was right and just!Thatwas how Harvey had come to be on the payroll of one of the busiest stations in the city? And now Jackson would be the one saddled with this useless inspector who would be of no help whatsoever, and in fact would prevent the hiring of a competent man to take his place. Closing his eyes, Jackson counted to ten.
Then twenty.
And it took until sixty-four before he could safely face the man without mowing him down. In truth, it wasn’t Harvey’s fault he’d been propped up as an officer. The blame lay on the commissioner, who knew exactly the sort of strain Harvey would put on the justice system.
Taking a deep breath, Jackson mentally riffled through the cases awaiting him on his desk upstairs, searching for one that would require no physical effort. “Very well, Harvey. Do you think you can manage a simple case of—”
“Oh, no need to assign me anything else quite yet, sir.” He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the ever-present beads of sweat decorating his brow. “Smitty has requested my service for an internal office matter.”
Jackson cocked his head. “What matter?”
“Revamping the front desk. His paperwork is woefully unorganized. I shall report to you once it is cleared up, sir.” Tipping his hat, Harvey strode off, seemingly unaware of the damage he’d done to Jackson’s blood pressure.
Growling, Jackson took the stairs two at a time. Perhaps he’d been wrong about how this day would be—
“Chief! A moment, please.”
He cast a longing gaze at his office door at the top of the stairs before turning back. The urgency in his friend Baggett’s voice could not be denied, nor would he refuse the request even were it not urgent. He owed Charles Baggett that much and more.
Doubling back, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, where the wide-shouldered inspector stood with a folder in his hand. “What have you got for me? But mind, I don’t think I can take another station problem right now.”
“Rough morning already, old man?” Baggett cuffed him on the shoulder. “But you’re in luck.” He handed over the folder. “That is the finished—and well-documented—Meagle case, all wrapped up sans bow. And furthermore, yes, I do have a personal matter to discuss.”
Jackson tucked the folder beneath his arm. Would that all the men under his management were this efficient. “Shall we speak in my office?”
Baggett grinned. “It’s not that personal.”
“Very well. Let’s have it.”
“Have you ever heard of any investigations into Bellow’s Glassworks?”
Jackson rubbed the back of his neck, trying to recall if he had come across the name. “None I know of,” he murmured. “Though if it’s documented in that unholy mess of a file cabinet in my office, good luck finding it. Why?”
“Mmm.” Baggett looked past him, but Jackson got the distinct impression he wasn’t focused on the bluecoats pouring out of the roster room. “Just wondering.”
“No, you’re not. Spill it.”
“It’s Martha—” Red rose up his friend’s neck, stark against his collar. “I mean Mrs. Jones, of course. Well, actually it’s about her boy, Frankie. The lad’s taken on a position at that hellhole of a glassery. He’ll be lucky to make it home every night without some sort of injury. Bellow ought to be fined for endangering children.”
Ahh. This was more than personal. This was a matter of the heart—whether Baggett admitted to it or not. And he most certainly wouldn’t. Why the stubborn fellow didn’t just marry the woman was beyond him, for clearly his friend cared deeply about Martha Jones and her children. Still, that didn’t mean he ought to step in and tell his friend what to do or stop Frankie from working at a place Baggett didn’t like. Granted, factories were notoriously dangerous, especially for the underage, and he himself would hate to see young Frankie harmed in any way. So would Kit.
But there was nothing he could do about it. The lad was a free agent.
He stepped aside as a constable strode past with a wriggling felon in tow, then faced Baggett. “As hard as it is, sometimes you must let go of things such as this. The boy has every right to work there if he chooses.”
“I know.” Baggett scowled. “But I don’t like it. Mrs. Jones won’t either.”
“So talk Frankie out of his decision. Problem solved.”
Baggett shook his head. “I’m not so sure he’d listen to me.”
“He was one of Kit’s crew. Shall I get her involved?”
“No.” The lines on Baggett’s face softened. “I suspect your wife has enough to manage. I don’t want to burden her, but I wouldn’t mind if you looked into finding any wrongdoings on Bellow’s part.”
