Kate Warne and the One that got Away

Part four in the story of Kate Warne’s first big case

Kate Warne, the young Pinkerton detective, didn’t smile as she poured her guest tea. Kate wore expensive clothes and acted like a lady of refinement. But it’s all part of the production. She’s worked hard to get things to this point.

And she was within minutes of seeing it all pay off.

It had to pay off.

There was fifty thousand dollars (almost a million and half in today’s money) riding on her performance. Blow it here, forget your lines or go out of character and the money is gone.

As she poured the tea, I’m sure she thought of how she’d gotten to this point. It’s 1858 in Pittsburgh. Every moment of her life has prepared her for this.

Kate is the very first female lawman in America. A few years before she’d walked boldly into Alan Pinkerton’s premier detective agency. There, she made a convincing case as to why he should bring her aboard as a Detective. She’d told him she could get close to criminal’s wives and girlfriends and learn things from them.

Today, she sat in her room and Mrs. Nathan Moroney, the wife of a man accused of embezzling the fifty thousand dollars, was there. The woman was distraught, frightened, and needed to confide in her friend.

And now she was about to prove she was right about what she told Alan Pinkerton she could do.

Not much is known of Kate Warne before she became a Pinkerton Detective. We do know she was born in 1833 in Erin, New York. We also know, she was a widow. But before she ever walked into the Pinkerton Detective Agency, she’s just one big question mark.

In later years, historians would speculate that she had wished to be an actress when she was younger. That she wanted to wow the audiences while playing Juliet or Lady Macbeth.

But the stage she was on was much more exciting and larger than anything the Bard had ever contrived.

What Kate was doing is called, “Dazzling them with Brilliance and Bullshit.” Or that’s what my undercover team and I would call it a century and half later. It’s being in character. The ultimate performance. A snow job and a half.

Having worked undercover for several years, I understand the need to craft a persona that will bear up. I had IDs that stated I was who I pretended I was. We had enough cover that a casual investigation would pass muster. That was all background stuff.

The rest was up to me. Some of the guys I worked with were bikers or just good old boys. Well, I’ve never played in either world, and wasn’t comfortable playing that role. I stayed in a role I’m comfortable in. I’m a geek through and through. I didn’t talk about motorcycles. I talked about Star Trek and Star Wars.

If anyone asked, I made training films for the Army. I adopted a name and said I was from Taos, New Mexico. I knew television and theater production and could talk film making with Lucas or Spielberg. Since those are things I’m passionate of and I’d read a lot about, I slipped easily into the role. I could tell stories I’d read as if I’d been there to witness them or knew someone who had.

Kate had probably done the same thing. But part of her persona reflected her upbringing. She knew how to be a gracious hostess. She may have used her upbringing and experience to build Madame Imbert. To portray her as a lady of culture, breeding, and refinement. It was a role she used often.

One thing about working undercover and this in never shown in television or movies is this. It’s the ultimate stage. Blow your lines here and there is no retake. At the very least you blow your case. At the worst you can get hurt or killed.

Kate and the other Pinkerton agents worked hard to craft their personas.

And it paid off.

As Kate handed her guest her cup of tea, she knew she was seconds away from getting the whole story. It all started with Kate being vulnerable to Mrs. Moroney.

Earlier, Kate had directed DeForrest, a handsome Pinkerton agent who was working with Kate, to make the first move. He’d struck up a conversation with Mrs. Moroney, and it was soon obvious that she was somewhat infatuated with the young man.

The two went for a walks often with Mrs. Maroney’s child. Flora, Mrs. Moroney child skipped on ahead of them.

Kate, in her Madame Imbert guise had been waiting for them. She and DeForrest had worked out what would be called in our day “A meet cute.” This is movie talk for a chance meeting that grows into a friendship.

Fate had deemed the meet cute wasn’t needed.

Flora had been running in Kate’s direction when she tripped and fell down. The young girl skinned her knee and Madam Imbert rushed to help the child up. Mrs. Moroney rushed forward, took the child in her arms, and thanked Madam Imbert/Kate for her kindness. The two women began talking and Kate asked her to tea.

In fishing terms, what Kate was about to do was bait the hook. She was going to plant something in Mrs. Moroney’s mind. Something that would tell this woman that she and this woman she’d met weren’t that far apart.

Kate began by appearing distracted a bit the next day at tea.

“Everything alright?” Mrs. Moroney asked.

Kate shook her head. “It’s that time of year,” she explained. “I almost always leave the South to escape from the depression that comes.”

During the course of the next few days, Madame Imbert had several letters delivered to her. They were always delivered when she was entertaining Mrs. Moroney’s. She’d open them in front of her, read them a little, and break into tears.

A few days later, Kate and Mrs. Moroney went for a walk. Kate was quieter than usual.

Eventually, Mrs. Moroney asked what was troubling her. Her friend had already told her she was getting away from whatever it was that caused her depression.

“I’m afraid you’ll find me poor company,” Kate explained fully in her Madame Imbert character. If she was fishing, she’d tossed the hook and line into the water. “Life hasn’t been kind to me. You’ve a good husband and a lovely child.”

I’m sure Kate wiped away a tear at this point. “That’s what makes life worthwhile.”

“I don’t understand?”

“I’m far from home and I’m separated from my dear husband.”

“Oh, dear.”

“I’ve no one to hold me, to love me.” She stared straight ahead. Maybe she let her eyes lower now and again. The fact that she was a window allowed her to tap into a reservoir of grief. “I’m alone.”

“You poor thing.”

“I’ve had to brood on this all alone,” she said. “There’s no one in my life I can confide in.”

“You can tell me.”

Kate waited a moment before going on. “You’re the first person I’ve said this to.” Another tear wiped away. “I’ve been so melancholy. I fear I drive people away.”

“Anyone can look at you and know you’re going through something.”

“If you knew the truth, you’d leave, too.”

They turned into a small park area and Mrs. Moroney bade Madame Imbert to sit down.

“It can’t be that bad,” she said. “Tell me. You’ve been carrying this for a long time.”

“I don’t wish to endanger our friendship.”

After much persuasion, Kate decided it was time for Madam Imbert to lure her quarry in a little more.

“You’re a dear for listening,” she said and took a deep breath before going on. “My husband is in prison.”

“I didn’t know.”

“He was a forger and has been sentenced to ten years.”

“When was the last time you saw him.”

“The day they took him away,” Madam Imbert said, a soft cry in her voice.

“What?”

Madam Imbert said with a tear in her eye. “The courts won’t let me see him.”

Mrs. Moroney comforted her friend and assured her she knew how she felt. “My husband, too is being prosecuted and in deep trouble.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. He’s in jail in New York.”

Unaware of what was going on, DeForrest made an untimely entrance and saw that both women looked distressed.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. He realized Kate had started to play her hand and he interrupted the game.

“Everything is fine,” Kate/Madame Imbert assured him, drying up the tears.

“Oh, DeForrest,” Mrs. Moroney said. “We were going for a walk.”

She stood up to leave.

“I can come back,” DeForrest said.

“No. That’s fine,” Mrs. Moroney said.

Kate couldn’t blame her. Given a choice between crying and walking with a handsome gentleman, she’d have chosen the later as well.

She tried to salvage the situation.

“Can we talk again?” Madame Imbert asked.

“Yes, tomorrow.”

DeForrest, cursing his timing, presented his arm and he and Mrs. Moroney went for their evening stroll.

If this was fishing, he’d just drawn the fish away, and there was nothing to be done about it.

But all that was yesterday. They were sitting and having tea now. The hard work was about to pay off.

Kate placed the tea pot back on the table. “What’s going on, my dear?” she asked.

“I’m leaving for Montgomery,” Mrs. Moroney said.

“Montgomery?” Kate asked. “I thought your husband was in jail in New York.”

“He is. But I’ve some business to conduct back home.”

She’s going for the money, Kate thought. But just in case, she hedged her bets.

Kate/Madame Imbert pouted and looked as if she would cry. Mrs. Moroney assured her saying, “I’ll be back in a few days. Then we’ll talk more.”

Kate rose and followed her to the door of her room.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“You have a good journey then. I’ll be waiting for you, my friend.”

As she closed the door behind her, Kate must have almost cried for real. Only this time in frustration. She’d been so close.

She’d just learned the biggest lesson in undercover work and that “No plan survives first contact with reality.”

All that work for nothing.

Or so she thought.