The Black Midnight Read online

  “If only finding the culprit was as simple as identifying rocks,” Annie said.

  The professor’s pinched expression quickly told her he did not find her statement amusing. “Miss Walters, I assure you that identifying rocks is no simple matter.”

  “I don’t think either of us believes it is,” Isaiah said as he braved a sideways look at Annie. “I know I wouldn’t know a piece of mica from an obsidian.”

  “Hush,” the professor said as a grin appeared beneath his drooping black mustache. “You would too, but only because your father taught you.” He shook his head then turned to Annie. “Forgive me. I fear I lack a sense of humor when it comes to the study of my passion.”

  “There is nothing to forgive,” she told him. “And I am sorry I made a joke at your expense.”

  “As you said, there is nothing to forgive.” He turned his attention back to Isaiah. “Yes, so I did not bring you here to catch up on old times, Detective Joplin. I’ve spent the morning with your father, Dr. Joplin, and we’ve done that already.”

  “You said you’ve got information for us that might lead to the identity of the man who has killed these women,” Isaiah offered.

  “I do,” he told them. “Though I am reluctant to share what I know. It isn’t safe to accuse certain segments of society.”

  “Which segments might those be?” Isaiah asked.

  “Certainly not the ones who are being arrested for these crimes,” the professor said with a sweep of his hands. “Not a one of those men did this, and I do not care what the police say. They are not looking for the killer because they already know who it is.”

  “With all due respect, Dr. Langston, I have read the police records. There is nothing in them that would indicate they are close to naming a suspect. Hundreds of arrests, to be certain, but none upon whom the murder charge could stick.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “They want this to go away. All of Austin wants it to go away.” He shook his head. “Perhaps not the families of those who were the victims, but the rest of the city would just as soon the crimes were forgotten.”

  “I have noticed that,” Annie agreed.

  “The police continue to pick up possible murderers off the street in the hopes that this time the charges will not be dropped. Eventually, if this works as they hope, the wrong man will be convicted, and citizens can sleep safely in their beds at night.”

  “Who did it, Dr. Langston?” Isaiah asked.

  “Oh, well…” The professor let out a long breath. “Joplin men are notoriously straightforward,” he told Annie.

  “As am I,” she responded evenly. “If you have a name for us, it would be most expedient if you would tell us that name. Then we could let you get back to your study of rocks in a timely fashion.”

  “It is more of a they than a who, actually,” he told her. “I have knowledge of them, not of any one specific man. But I do believe that among them is the one who is guilty of these crimes. The others are merely guilty of helping him to evade arrest.”

  Isaiah’s eyes narrowed. “That is quite the allegation, sir.”

  “I would call it fact, not allegation, but I suppose since there is not yet proof, I won’t argue the point.” Dr. Langston straightened his shoulders and looked out into the rainy afternoon. “We have an institution of higher learning here. One of the best.” His attention jerked toward Isaiah. “I believe this is happening without the knowledge of anyone associated with any department in this illustrious institution other than a small group of men who are spreading lies and, I believe, covering up for a murderer.”

  He paused and seemed to be collecting himself. Then the professor drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “Voodoo is a term that has been bandied about,” Dr. Langston said. “Perhaps in your investigation you’ve run across that allegation. Men who do not want to bring a poor reputation on the city are the source.”

  Isaiah shook his head. “You’re talking in riddles, sir.”

  “I am aware of that,” Dr. Langston said. “Some of it is a riddle. I thought I would solve that riddle before I turned the information over to you, but recently I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Are you in danger?”

  He chuckled but quickly sobered. “Nothing like that. I have other more pressing projects calling my name, so looking into this curiosity has not been something I’ve had much time for.”

  More pressing projects than stopping a murderer? Annie bit back a response.

  “Miss Walters and I are happy to take up where you’ve left off in your investigation,” Isaiah said. “Once we’ve had the facts.”

  The door opened and a fresh-faced young man stuck his head in. “Oh, sorry, Professor. I’ll come back when you’re finished with your meeting.”

  “Yes, please do, Mr. Stevens. And if you’re wondering about grades, they’re not yet ready.” When the door closed again, Dr. Langston shook his head. “That one is a worrier, but worriers make for good students when properly managed. Now where was I? Oh, yes. Shortly after my visiting professorship began, I was trying to find my way around and stumbled into the wrong office. There was a meeting going on. Four men. They were arguing, which is why none of them noticed me. I stepped back out and closed the door as quietly as I could. But I heard them, Isaiah. I heard every word very clearly.”

  All evidence of any prior joviality was gone. In its place, the professor’s face was a mask of fear. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

  “These men are protecting one of their own and this city. I stood outside the door and heard them plot to spread the lie that voodoo was involved and that someone who circulated freely among these serving girls was to blame. It was all to cover up for someone they knew.”

  “One of the professors?” Annie asked.

  He turned a frightened look her way. “Possibly. One of those men or someone the four know well. Either way, I cannot have misunderstood. They called their campaign the Black Midnight, and they spoke at length about it. Or perhaps that was their code name for the killer himself. In the context of the conversation, either could have been the case.”

  “Who was in the room?” Isaiah snapped, his patience at the professor’s meandering way of telling his tale obviously at an end.

  “Four men whose names I will give you only if my anonymity is assured.” He paused. “All of whom you know.”

  “I can assure you of that.” Isaiah reached into his vest pocket to retrieve a small notebook and pencil. “Write them here.” At Dr. Langston’s confused expression, the Pinkerton detective continued. “Apparently the doors are thin in this building.”

  “Yes, of course.” The professor accepted the notebook and pencil and moved to a lab table to begin writing.

  Annie followed, unwilling to accept only the meager details the older man was offering. “What specifically was said to give you the impression that four men were protecting a murderer?”

  Dr. Langston looked up from his writing. “Four men speaking about how to cover up a murder is a conversation that is difficult to misinterpret. As I said, they talked about the misinformation they would offer to police and the newspaper to draw them off the track of the real killer. To handle the Black Midnight. Those words were actually spoken.”

  “By whom?” Isaiah said.

  “All of them in one form or another during the conversation,” he exclaimed. “The men agreed that the real perpetrator of these crimes was not to be caught and that the city was better off to believe they were permanently rid of the stain of this crime spree.”

  “Dr. Langston, is this meeting you’ve called with Mr. Joplin and me part of that campaign of misinformation?” Annie asked, watching the professor’s expression carefully. “Because you’ve told us nothing concrete and appear to be nervous about what you have told us. Are you part of the Black Midnight?”

  “That is ridiculous,” he said in a huff. “Of course not.”

  “And yet you speak in circles and seem reluctant to give
us much,” Isaiah countered. “Too reluctant for a man who claimed he wants to help us.”

  The professor snatched up his list and walked past Annie to thrust the paper at Isaiah. “That’s because your father is one of them.”

  Ike looked down at the list and then back up at the professor, keeping his expression neutral. The man was a liar, of this he was almost certain.

  But he would have to prove what he already knew: that his father was no killer. They had spoken about the crimes at length, with Pop theorizing on who might be committing the atrocities and speaking at length on his horror that the city had to endure such a madman on the loose.

  Rather than say any of these things, Ike kept his silence as he folded the list and tucked it into his pocket. There was a time and place to delve into the proving of this claim.

  “You’d better be ready to stake your life on this, Dr. Langston,” Ike said evenly.

  “It is likely I already have.” He paused. “If I turn up dead, know that it was no accident, Ike. I call every man on that list a friend, but I certainly wouldn’t put it past them to see that I was silenced on this matter. Not after what I heard.”

  “From the other side of a closed door?” Annie offered.

  Ike walked over to the door, thinking he would check the theory that a conversation could be heard from the hallway. To his surprise, the Stevens fellow reeled backward as Ike swung the door open.

  “Hello there,” Ike said, grasping the student by the wrist and hauling him inside the classroom. “Stevens, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir,” the skinny fellow squeaked as crimson flooded his face.

  “How long have you been out there, boy?” Professor Langston demanded.

  Ike released Stevens, and he scrambled to his feet. His eyes cut toward Ike then returned to Dr. Langston. “Since you agreed I should wait until you were finished with your meeting, Professor. Should I not have done that?”

  “That depends,” Ike told him, crowding the young fellow just enough to let him know who was in charge. “What did you hear?”

  “Hear?” His brow furrowed. “Where?”

  “He is asking if you eavesdropped on our conversation, Mr. Stevens,” the professor offered. “If you heard anything of what we were discussing, it would be advisable for you to let these two Pinkerton detectives know.”

  “Pinkerton detectives?” came out in another squeak. “Gosh, Dr. Langston, are these the Pinkertons I read about in the Statesman that the mayor sent for?”

  Since Ike couldn’t answer that in the affirmative without bending the truth, he said nothing. Annie also remained silent.

  “Gosh, I’ve never met real Pinkerton detectives. I’ve heard of you, but then, who hasn’t?” He stuck out a skinny arm. “I’d like to shake your hand, sir.”

  Ike complied then took a step back. “Miss Walters and I would like an answer to the question you’ve been asked. How much did you hear while you were waiting in the hall?”

  “I guess I might have heard plenty except that I wasn’t exactly telling the truth about waiting out there for your meeting to be done, Dr. Langston. See, I was doing what you told me to do, and then…” The flush on his face deepened. “Well, I was just standing there, and Miss Ellis—she came out of her father’s office at the end of the hall.”

  “Miss Ellis?” Annie asked.

  “The dean’s daughter,” Dr. Langston supplied. “A pretty girl just about Mr. Stevens’s age. She often visits her father here.” He glanced over at the student. “She’s very popular with the young men at the university, though I understand she rarely bestows the gift of conversation upon them. She must like you, Mr. Stevens.”

  The compliment apparently rendered the poor lad unable to speak. Instead, he managed a nod. Finally, he added, “I reckon so.”

  “Did you and Miss Ellis hold your conversation outside the door?” Annie asked. “Or did you go somewhere more private?”

  Stevens swallowed hard and braved a look at Annie. “There’s an out-of-the-way spot at the end of the east hall that allows for”—he paused—“well, for private conversations, I guess you’d say.”

  Ike tried not to grin as he watched the poor lad squirm under Annie’s scrutinizing gaze. If what he said was true, the student had been too busy spending time with a pretty girl over in the east hall to hear anything that had been said in the classroom.

  If indeed anything could be heard through the door.

  “Dr. Langston,” Ike said. “Miss Walters and I will leave you and Mr. Stevens to have your meeting now. If we have any more questions, I hope you will make yourself available to us.”

  The professor looked him in the eyes, then clasped his hand to shake it. “You have my word.”

  Ike ushered Annie out of the classroom and closed the door behind them. When he set off down the hall, Annie took a moment to catch up.

  “Aren’t you going to wait and see if you can hear them?”

  “Too easy,” he said. “And probably what Dr. Langston expects us to do.”

  Annie grinned. “So we walk away and then come back in a few minutes.”

  “Exactly.” He matched her grin. “I hear there’s a spot we can wait over in the east hall.”

  “You are incorrigible,” she told him.

  “I am, but if we weren’t working on a case, I bet you’d kiss me anyway.”

  Her laughter echoed in the hallway. “I refuse to answer that theoretical question, Isaiah. We are working on a case, and we’d both better remember that. And I stand by my claim that you are incorrigible.”

  He gestured toward the stairwell. “Give him a minute to decide we’re gone,” he whispered. “Then come back up here very quietly.”

  At her nod, they set off downstairs and then turned around to retrace their path to the top of the stairs. Once there, Ike made sure the hallway was clear and then inched his way back to the door leading to Dr. Langston’s classroom with Annie two steps behind him.

  Silence greeted them. Ike frowned.

  Annie pressed past him to lean her ear against the door. Then she straightened and shook her head. “I don’t hear anything,” she whispered.

  Ike stood there long enough to convince himself Dr. Langston made up the story he’d told them. Anger mixed with relief.

  “Let’s go,” he said softly on an exhale of breath.

  Annie held up her hand to stop him. “Wait. I thought I heard a chair scrape on the floor.”

  He frowned and joined her in pressing his ear against the door. Sure enough, he could hear something, though the sound was muffled.

  “We’ve proved that the professor lied,” he told her as he stepped away. “Let’s go.”

  “All right, thank you for waiting patiently, Mr. Stevens,” Dr. Langston said, his voice clear enough to be heard a few steps away from the door. “I stand corrected. I found your paper and am ready to discuss your grade.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Langston. I just couldn’t go home for Christmas until I knew how I did on that paper. I’ve been worried about it ever since I turned it in.”

  “Not too worried to chat up Miss Ellis in the east hall,” the professor said with a chuckle.

  Annie met his gaze. Obviously they hadn’t heard anything because no one had been speaking.

  Ike stifled a groan. The professor was right, at least in the fact that a conversation could be heard through a door in this building. But he wasn’t going to be too quick to let himself believe Dr. Langston on the other allegations.

  Not without further investigation.

  “Ike?” a familiar voice called from behind him. “What are you doing here?”

  Chapter 11

  Annie turned to see an older version of Isaiah striding toward them from the end of the hall opposite the stairs. This must be the geology professor.

  “Pop,” Isaiah said, heading him off to lead him down the opposite hallway. “Annie and I were here on Pinkerton business. I wasn’t sure you’d still be here this late in the afternoon.”


  The elder Joplin gave his son a strange look. “I’m always here this late in the afternoon.”

  Isaiah nodded for her to follow as the pair disappeared into a room at the end of the corridor. She caught up and paused at the door.

  The small office was crammed from floor to ceiling with rocks of every kind. Some were large enough to hold a place on the floor, while others were lined up on shelves and labeled. It reminded her a bit of the London museums she’d spent far too much time in as a child: dusty and overfilled with curiosities.

  Annie noticed the silence before she realized both men were watching her intently. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Did I miss something?”

  The man Isaiah had called Pop smiled in her direction. “Not yet. My son was about to make the introductions, I believe.”

  “Annie, this is my father, Dr. Seth Joplin. Pop, meet Detective Walters. She and I are working a case here.”

  “So I heard.” He stepped forward to shake her hand. “Charmed, Detective Walters.”

  “Likewise, Dr. Joplin.”

  He gave Annie an appraising look. “Ike doesn’t bring guests to my office, especially not guests from outside of Texas. You’re British, are you not?”

  “I am,” she said before he asked further questions about her background. “You have an impressive collection. I don’t think I’ve seen so many outside of a natural history museum.”

  “Thank you. But he didn’t bring you here to see my office or he would have come straight here.” Dr. Joplin looked over at Isaiah. “So why are you here? Did Hattie send you here because I missed another lunch?”

  “Miss Hattie can deliver her own messages,” he said. “I told you we are here on a business matter.”

  “Pinkerton business,” the elder Joplin supplied. “I read that the mayor had sent for the Pinkertons. I didn’t realize it would be you until I spoke with Hattie.”

  “I stayed at the house last night, Pop,” he said. “Had two out of three meals there yesterday. And if you’re keeping track, I got there the night before that.”