An Agent for Marla: Pinkerton Matchmakers, #40

By Lynn Donovan

A woman trying to prove her worth in a man's world, an agent determined never to fall in love, and a murder mystery that tests both their boundaries.

 

Marla Porter longs to experience the life she reads about in the Pinkerton dime novels. She convinces a local newspaper to allow her to go undercover to find out what it means to be part of the Pinkerton's Female Detective Bureau. But Marla has a secret no one knows; if discovered, it could lead to her ruin as a journalist.

Pinkerton Detective Pryce Adams has managed to avoid the Denver office's rules of marrying a partner. That is, until a sassy woman walks into the office and turns his life upside down. Twenty years her senior, they make the perfect covert father/daughter team to solve a bank robbery gone wrong.

 

What happens when the lines blur between a professional relationship and falling for his new partner? Can Pryce let go of his promise to his dead fiancée and allow himself to love again? Will Marla's secret ruin everything?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barr26 Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jan 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215724583

Book preview

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September 1872

Topeka, Kansas

With all due respect, sir— no. Marla Porter had all she could take with being tossed crumbs for assignments.

The Managing Editor, Albert Michaels’s eyes darted up from his list. No? What do you mean, no?

"I mean, I’m sick to death with human interest articles. I don’t want to report on Missus O’Leary’s cat probably winning the ‘Fattest Cat’ category at the County Fair, even if the feline is a shoe-in for the win, or whether Mister Burns’s apple pie wins the blue ribbon, again. But you’re right, that man needs to stay out of the baking categories. He is really upsetting the Topeka ladies. She swallowed. I want something I can really dig my teeth into."

Mr. Michaels yanked his glasses off his nose. Red dots flanked his bridge from where his glasses had sat. You talking about the pie? Or an assignment? He chuckled.

The other reporters either rolled their eyes or laughed with the boss. Another simply tossed down his pencil. It wasn’t easy being the only woman reporter at the Topeka Blade. The morning briefings always went like this. She couldn’t gain one single man’s respect. She was determined to get an assignment worthy of her writing talents.

Michaels rotated his gaze among the men. Really? Like what?

Marla lifted her chin one rung. What have you got?

His glare remained on her. I’ve got a fat cat and a man who out-bakes the wives of Shawnee County.

Sir. You know I’m better than that. Give me a real article to write.

Give you— how about you give me something?

She blinked. Okay… give me a day. I’ll pitch a proposal at tomorrow’s briefing.

Fine. Mr. Michaels shoved his glasses back on. But today, give me a fat cat and an apple pie that can’t be beat?

Marla sighed. But, I… fine.

Fine. Al bulged his eyes. George, I want you to follow up on that attempted arson…

Michaels continued giving out assignments while Marla fumed. She had been determined to not take any more crumbs. She was a published author with thirty thousand books in print. Her fans adored her stories. Of course they only knew her as M. P. Porter. Using a pen name was her publicist’s idea. Disguising her gender by using her initials, unfortunately, was imperative to getting a contract with Beadle & Adams Dime Novels in New York City.

It wasn’t Mr. Michaels’s fault really. She couldn’t divulge her success as an author without breeching those contracts and she didn’t make enough from her book sales to support herself completely. So she did the next best thing. Worked for a Newspaper where she thought she’d be able to write entertaining column stories which would turn into more short stories for the dime novels. So far she was only allowed to write local soft news pieces that any child could put together.

She had to come up with something really interesting by tomorrow morning. What that would be, she had no clue. She grabbed her pad and pencil and left the conference room.

Her desk sat among the other five, in the middle of the newsroom. A telegraph machine tapped out a message at the back. A young intern wrote down the translation of each pattern of taps and pauses. She ignored the possibility of the message being handed to her to investigate. They never made it to her desk.

She drew a copy of The Blade toward her. Everybody got the early morning edition on their desk. She should head straight to the fairgrounds before the finalists were chosen. But she was just too mad.

She crossed her legs and opened the paper. The syndicated headline from Colorado tickled her thoughts. Murderer Thwarted by Lady Pinkerton. She quickly read the article. There was a National Pinkerton Detective Agency in Denver City, Colorado!

She peeked over the top of her paper, purposefully defying anyone to say something about her procrastination. But no one did. Her little act of defiance wasn’t exactly working. She turned the page and flipped the thin paper to make it stay taut. Her eyes ran down the personals page. An advert caught her eye.

Help Wanted: female agents to join the National Pinkerton Detective Agency…"

Marla uncrossed her legs and leaned into the paper, shielding her perusal from onlookers. She ran her eyes over the words, skimming the details.

Interviews will occur on the premises in the Denver office.

She had studied the escapades of Kate Warne for one of her dime novels. Being a female Pinkerton agent sounded like the most intriguing job a woman could do. She reached into her largest desk drawer at the bottom and pulled out a copy of True Tales of Kate Warne and Other Pinkerton Detective Stories, By M. P. Porter." She knew how the agency worked from her research, but what if…

By golly this was a good idea! She needed to formulate her strategy. Al wouldn’t be easy to convince, but she’d think of something. What would be the bait that would convince him to let her do this? She tapped her lip with a pencil.

Porter! Get to it. Al’s brazen voice bellowed from his office.

She jerked, dropped the pencil, and slipped her book into her bag. On it.

She tapped Oliver on the shoulder as she walked past his desk. Come on.

The young artist looked up from his doodle and then scrambled to gather his charcoal sticks and drawing pad. Coming!

The two walked out and hailed a taxi carriage. Marla said very little during the ride, which seemed to make Olly nervous. He opened his pad and doodled, something Marla had noticed he consistently did when he was uneasy. She let him stew over her silence. He wouldn’t understand and she didn’t feel like explaining the thoughts she was putting together.

It was imperative she got this right. This was an opportunity she couldn’t imagine coming along very often. An inside exclusive in the modern-day lives of Lady Pinkertons, and a series of criminal novels she could write based on what she learned while working undercover. She’d change all the names to protect the real people, of course, and call it fiction, no doubt. She could smell another novel coming and this one would be a hardback. This one just might get her Best Selling Author of the Year.

All she had to do was get Al’s permission to go to Denver City, Colorado for… a while, and Archibald Gordon’s approval to join the force. She’d probably need a letter of recommendation to pull it off, but she could ask Uncle Thaddeus. He was probably busy running his reelection campaign but he promised her he’d always make time for his favorite niece. She smiled. The Governor’s Mansion was on the way to the fairgrounds. She tapped on the carriage and hollered at the driver. Excuse me. Could we drop by the Governor’s Mansion? She turned to Olly. I shouldn’t be but a moment.

Olly looked up in surprise. Marla smiled. He’s my uncle. I just want to stop by and ask him something.

Olly answered not in words but a furrowed brow and continued drawing the interior of the carriage. Marla turned to watch the city go by from the window. This plan was a double undercover operation. If that didn’t prove she was a top-notch reporter, nothing did. Now, she just needed all these pieces to fall into place.

What could be easier?

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Marla walked into the morning briefing with yesterday’s paper under her arm. She sat it on the large table and folded her hands over it. Mr. Michaels eyed her suspiciously. What you doing with that fish wrapper, Porter?

I have my reasons, was all she said.

He glared at her over his glasses and opened the meeting. After he gave everyone their assignments and some discussions ensued on story ideas, Michaels sighed through his nose and turned to Marla. Alright Porter. What you got?

She smiled. I told you I’d bring you a story idea that I could sink my teeth into. I have it here.

You’ve got a story idea out of yesterday’s news? How? You know that yesterday’s news is nothing more than a bird cage liner. Right?

Not this time. She stood and opened the paper to the headline. What if I brought you a story about the women detectives with the National Pinkerton Detective Agency out of Denver City, Colorado?

His bushy brows shot up. Go on.

They’re known as ‘the Pinks.’ Twenty years ago, Mrs. Kate Warne blazed the trail for a select few women to become detectives, bodyguards, and stealth messengers. Did you know Kate herself protected President Abraham Lincoln on many occasions? The only reason he got shot was because he refused to let the Pinkertons guard him that night.

She paused for effect. Mr. Michaels just stared at her with disinterest.

This is a great story, Al. She shook the paper. "Look, our own headlines hawk the praises for another Lady Pink’s success in discovering and bringing to justice a would-be murderer!"

What are you proposing? You gonna interview a lady Pinkerton detective?

Better. She smiled smugly. I’m going to infiltrate the agency and become a lady detective.

He looked at her intently. You’re quitting here to become a Pinkerton Agent?

No! I’m going to go undercover and write about it.

You got a way into the Pinkerton Agency?

I might. She lifted her chin.

Might! Michaels roared. Might’s not good enough, Porter!

The other reports chuckled.

Marla swept their insolent faces. Al, listen to me. I’ve got a good chance of getting in.

He glared at her. How’s that?

She paused. Having the governor as her uncle was not something she wanted to reveal. She didn’t want preferential treatment at the paper. She would use his influence to get into the Pinkertons, but that was a favor, not a privilege.

I have a letter… of recommendation… from someone who is influential. She cocked her head