Oh, Mr. Porter

Chapter One

  Chapter One

Detective Lieutenant Hilliard Dods arrived at the Bureau of Investigation Field Office off Lombard Street early Monday morning. He hadn't intended to be this early, but with all the ice and frozen fog this morning he wouldn't take a chance on being late. He used his key to open the door, and went inside.

There was a large receiving room, where a receptionist would sit to answer the telephone and to receive visitors if they ever got busy enough to justify hiring one. Behind that were two smaller offices. He and Dylan shared one, the other belonged to the Special Agent in Charge, Tom Ribiero.

The building was supposed to have central heating. The radiators in the three rooms the Federal Government rented for them seemed pretty useless. Hildy went to the cupboard and brought out the electric space heater and plugged it in. It wasn't as good as a proper coal stove, but it would do. At least his coffee wouldn't freeze in the cup.

It was just getting warm enough for him to take off and hang up his overcoat when the door opened. Hildy called out, "Hey, Dylan. Is Tom with you?"

Recently promoted Detective Sergeant Dylan Shay shrugged out of his wet coat. It wasn't raining, but the fog and the ice made everything feel saturated. He hung it beside Hildy's and they went to their desks in the rear office.

In August of last year, the pair of them were seconded from the City Police to the newly opened Bureau of Investigation Field Office in Baltimore. Along with their secondment had come a promotion for them both. That, coupled with the expenses and allotments paid by the Bureau meant both men were doing well for themselves.

Dylan's wife, Millicent, ran a successful bakery in Highlandtown, along with her partner, Catherine Dudek. The two were in the midst of expanding the business.

The Bureau was in need of local officers to assist. Not because their agents were unable to investigate, but because the agents could neither go armed other than as a private citizen, nor did they have the power to arrest. They had run into issues in some jurisdictions where the local police were more crooked than the people being investigated. Therefore, they found it advantageous to bring in full time officers.

Dylan answered him. "I saw him at the Western Union Office downstairs. He should be up in a minute."

The two men started work. The first thing they had to do in the first month of the New Year was to review the new laws that had gone into effect which would affect their job. Federal Regulations were sometimes far different from City Ordinances or State Laws, and they still took some getting used to. It was hard for them to ignore some lawbreakers if what they were doing was not specifically within their mandate.

Their primary job right now was enforcement of the Mann Act. Passed in 1910, it prohibited what was euphemistically referred to as "white slavery". In other words, it made it illegal to transport women across state lines for immoral or illicit purposes. Unfortunately, it also could stop a young couple from taking the train from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to Warrenton, Virginia to get married, in order to avoid the mandatory three day waiting period.

Dods closed the file he had been reading. "We're going to have fun with this one. There is a push to start a Child Welfare Bureau. In addition to what we're doing, we'll get to investigate child labor cases. Maybe you should talk to Millie about her time in the factory."

Dylan's wife had spent several months as a child working in a sweatshop, before she was abducted and put to work in a brothel.

"I can ask her, but I doubt she'll say much. Other than that it was better than starving."

The front door opened. Dylan called out, "Is that you, Tom?"

Tom Ribiero stepped into the doorway to their office. He was a short, solidly built man of Hispanic heritage. His prodigious handlebar mustache was waxed to within an inch of its life, his hair was so greased with Macassar oil that the natural curls didn't stand a chance. He hung his hat on the rack, and his top coat followed. "Any mail?"