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The women shot wary glances my way, but I hardly noticed. My focus remained fixed on the man in front of me. He leaned over and whispered to the woman on his right. Nodding, she rose and led the rest of the females away.
Then we were alone.
Mr. Baxter gestured to the empty room. “You have my attention, widow. I assume you’re not here to kill me, else you’d already have pulled the trigger. Why don’t you show me your face, yeah?”
Reaching with one hand, I shoved the heavy netting up until it fell down my back like a lace waterfall. My unobstructed gaze met his—and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. The intense weight of his dark stare went through me, my lungs squeezing tight. I lifted my chin and tried to remain calm. Something told me this man fed on fear.
The edges of his mouth curled. “Well, well. The fancy daughter of a politician at a Tenth Avenue boxing match.”
I nearly dropped the gun. “You know who I am.”
“You are Miss Isabelle Kelly, the only child of Honest Dan Kelly, current mayoral candidate and former city comptroller.”
I clasped the gun with both hands, steadying my aim. “Now perhaps you’ll explain why you kidnapped him.”
Mr. Baxter rose and straightened his cuffs. “Not many would dare to accuse me of such a deed to my face, let alone hold me at gunpoint.” He approached with slow, measured steps, and sweat broke out between my shoulder blades. He looked me up and down. “Lucky for you, I don’t offend easily—at least when the offense comes from a beautiful woman.”
Up close, Mr. Baxter was even more intriguing. Indeed, more handsome. The navy wool suit fit him perfectly, the simple cloth well-tailored and clean. His dark eyes swirled with intelligence and gleamed with perspicacity, as if the game had already been waged and won in his mind. He was clean shaven, but the hint of whiskers kissed his square jaw.
I wouldn’t be fooled, though. This man was dangerous, a criminal, and had probably kidnapped my father.
Despite my trembling hands, I kept the barrel of the gun pointed at him. “Do you claim ignorance, Mr. Baxter?”
“Call me Bax.” He leaned a hip against the ring’s platform and folded his arms. “And kidnapped, you say? Tell me why I’m responsible.”
“Three days ago, my father disappeared from our home, the latch on a downstairs window pried open with a metal tool, his office in shambles. The only clue was a piece of paper from the American Ice Company—your ice company.”
“You believe this implicates me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“It could mean your father purchased ice from my company.”
“I review all the household bills. We have never purchased ice—or anything else—from you. That piece of paper was dropped by the kidnappers.”
“What do the coppers say? I assume you talked to them.”
His smug attitude scraped across my nerves like the tines of a fork. “They lost interest when they saw the name of your company on that piece of paper.”
Bax lifted his hands and shrugged. “No one ever claimed the Metropolitan Police were efficient—unless we’re talking about accepting bribes. Then there are none more expeditious. What do you want from me, Miss Kelly?”
“Did you kidnap my father?”
“No.”
The response came quickly. Almost too quickly. “Why should I believe you?”
“If I kidnapped him, there’d be no reason to hide it. Do you honestly think anyone in this city would lift a finger to stop me from doing whatever I wanted?”
No, I didn’t. “Perhaps one of your men kidnapped him without your knowledge.”
“My men don’t eat, shit or fuck without my permission, let alone kidnap someone, widow. And why would I bother kidnapping your father?”
“My father is running for mayor this autumn on a reform platform. No doubt your livelihood would have suffered under such reforms.”
“You think I’m scared of your father?” He snorted and lifted his chin. “I’m above the law, Miss Kelly. Untouchable. A king below Fiftieth Street. I see these so-called reforms for what they are: hot air from men who like to hear themselves talk. Now, get that gun out of my face so we can have a real conversation, yeah?”
I believed him. There was no artifice, no hesitation in his voice. My shoulders sagged and I lowered the gun. Blast it all. I honestly thought Billy Baxter held the key to my father’s whereabouts. Without that lead, what did I have?
