A Touch of Forever, page 41
Ben lifted it while Roen swept an arm under it. Two sweeps and he found what he was looking for: Victorine’s palm pistol. It was loaded. Ben dropped the mattress back in place.
“Not a convenient place to keep it,” said Ben. “Under her pillow would have made more sense.”
“Not if she thought she might blow off her own head.” Roen tucked it into a pocket. “Nothing in here to suggest that Cabot was ever a visitor.”
Ben nodded. “It would have been a good beginning to catch him in a lie.” The car rattled and shook as the late morning train pulled into the station, snorting and squealing and steaming until it finally fell silent. “Let’s go. I have to send my own telegram to Victor Headley, and you can explain the broken window to Solomon.”
Roen chuckled. “Thanks.”
They stepped out of the private car and jumped down to the gravel bed. Rather than walk around the train, they took the shortcut of climbing aboard and getting off on the other side. Roen was the first to hop to the platform; Ben was on his heels. Greeted by the sight of Lily standing as if rooted in place, a valise in each of her white-knuckled fists, neither of them moved. At first, Lily took up the whole of Roen’s vision and he didn’t see Martin Cabot at her back, but Ben had no such problem. He saw Cabot as part of the whole from the beginning.
A porter appeared, stepping down from the adjacent car. The man had a paisley carpeted valise in one hand. He held out the other hand to the passenger standing on the lip of the stair. It was Evelyn Gray come home from visiting her daughter and new granddaughter in Denver. Mrs. Gray landed lightly on the platform and kept her balance, thanks to the porter. Seeing nothing at all untoward in the tableau near the station entrance, Mrs. Gray waved gaily at Lily.
“Set down one of the valises,” Martin Cabot whispered in Lily’s ear, “and wave.”
Lily did as she was told. “How are your daughter and the baby?”
“Fit as fiddles, both of them. Now I’m anxious to see that my husband hasn’t starved while I was gone. He can boil water and make an egg seven different ways, but that is the extent of his skill in the kitchen.”
Lily knew she was expected to smile and she did. She was grateful that Mrs. Gray’s thoughts were so occupied with getting home to her husband that she didn’t think to ask where Lily was going with the valises or why there was a man standing at her back while her husband and the sheriff stood some ten feet distant.
“I feel confident he has survived,” said Lily, and she bade Mrs. Gray good day. Ben and Roen did the same. Mr. Cabot nodded in her direction. Mrs. Gray took her valise from the porter, thanked him, and began walking down the platform toward town.
The porter took a step toward the station house, but Mr. Cabot shook his head. “Mr. Winslow stepped out to deliver a telegram. You can take my valises, though. I’m just saying farewell to the Shepards and Sheriff Madison.”
“Very good, sir.” He approached and lifted the valise that Lily had set on the platform. She held out the other one for him to take. “Train’ll be leaving in a few minutes. We’re not crowded. You can take a seat anywhere.”
Cabot nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be along directly.” When the porter boarded, Cabot directed his attention to Ben and Roen. “I intend to board this train. I had no plans for Mrs. Shepard to accompany me, but your presence here has changed that. I will gladly let her go at the next stop if there is no sign that you’ve followed; otherwise I cannot guarantee her safety. It is all around unfortunate that you arrived when you did. I saw which way the wind was blowing when you questioned me at Mrs. Brady’s. I decided then it was best for me to leave. There is no evidence of wrongdoing on my part because I committed no wrong, but I am a stranger here and I am familiar with how that stacks the most circumstantial of evidence against me.”
“He’s lying,” said Lily. “He bought his ticket before you interviewed him this morning. I have the time from Solomon, who is lying unconscious behind the counter. He wouldn’t allow me to exit the station because he suspected I was going to find you and tell you he was planning to leave town. What reason does he have to hurry off except that he murdered Miss Headley?”
“She makes an excellent point,” Ben said calmly.
“My arrangement with Miss Headley was concluded,” said Cabot.
“Odd you didn’t mention that when we spoke,” said Roen. “We read through several drafts of your contract with Miss Headley. According to what was set down, your arrangement would be concluded with the birth of her child. That must have amused her because there could be no other reason she would insist on it.”
“Drafts,” said Cabot. “The final agreement had no such terms.”
“Do you have it?” asked Ben.
“In one of the valises that the porter just put on the train.”
“May we look at it?”
“I’m feeling reasonable, gentlemen, because I truly do not wish to be burdened by Mrs. Shepard’s presence. I do not trust her in the least. Yes, you may look in my valises. The agreement is in an inside pocket. I suggest you hurry. Mrs. Shepard, tell them what I have pressed to your back.”
“I believe they know you have a gun, Mr. Cabot. My husband knows I would not be standing here otherwise.”
“Just so.” He waved his free hand toward the train. “Go on. Quickly.”
Ben indicated that Roen should investigate. Ben kept his gun hand hovering near the butt of his weapon. They all knew he wouldn’t use it while Lily was Cabot’s hostage. While Roen followed the route the porter had taken and disappeared in the car, Ben said, “You’re right not to trust Lily Shepard. You have no idea what she’s capable of. If you board the train with her, I cannot guarantee that you will arrive safely at the next stop.”
“She’s a deep one, I’ll give you that.”
Ben nodded, smiled reassuringly at Lily, although he wondered if he didn’t require more reassurance than she did. “Where do you imagine you can go, Mr. Cabot, that you won’t be found? Victor Headley has vast resources.”
“Your mind is made up that I am guilty. I’m not. Your slim resources would be put to better use questioning your deputy.”
“You’d make a better case for yourself if you were to let Mrs. Shepard go.”
“I only want to make certain I can leave Frost Falls. Everything you have said and done makes that a very large question in my mind.”
“Why do you think I should question Hitch?”
“He had motive.”
“Really? He only knew Miss Headley to see her.”
“He knew she disliked the China girl, had a vicious temper, and unleashed it on her.”
“You probably should explain yourself since this is nothing you shared earlier.”
“Miss Headley is responsible for Miss Chen’s bruised face.”
“I thought you said Miss Chen fell.”
“I said that she told me she fell. Miss Headley told me that she slapped Miss Chen. For insolence the first time, and simply because she wanted to the second. I told you I kept an eye on Miss Headley. I followed her to the Shepard home. Afterward I observed she was upset in that cold, contemptuous manner of hers. I asked her what happened when she went inside. She told me.”
“Hitch didn’t know about it.”
“Is that what he said? Of course you’d believe him. This is what I meant about a stranger having none of the advantages of a resident, especially when that resident is a lawman and the son of one of the pillars of the community. Is it any wonder I want to leave town?”
“Wouldn’t you agree that purchasing your ticket before you claim you knew Miss Headley was dead is suspicious?”
“When you read my contract, the one that we agreed to abide by, you will see that I had the right to terminate my employment in the event Miss Headley engaged in—or expected me to engage in—behavior which I determined was morally repugnant. When Miss Headley struck Miss Chen in such a spiteful manner, she effectively ended our contract. I had no reason to kill her. I knew last night I would be leaving this morning and I told her so.”
Ben features remained expressionless as he listened to Cabot’s facile explanation. “Allow Mrs. Shepard to step aside. You don’t need her. If you are innocent as you say, then you are complicating your defense by using her as a shield.”
Cabot shook his head. His gaze shifted to the car where Roen had disappeared. “Mr. Shepard is taking an inordinately long time.”
Ben shrugged. “He’s probably reading the agreement.” Although his eyes did not stray from Cabot’s, he could see past the man’s shoulder and through the station’s large front window to where there was movement near the counter. He recognized that it was Roen and not Solomon Winslow that he was seeing. Ben doubted Roen had even looked for the valises. Instead, he had used the opportunity to leave the train on the far side and circle around to enter the station through the rear door.
The porter appeared again at the car entrance and gestured to the trio on the platform. “Better come aboard who’s ever comin’ aboard. Our girl here doesn’t wait for stragglers.” Having said his piece, he stepped back inside. A moment later his announcement was punctuated by the long ear-piercing whistle signaling the imminent departure of No. 462.
The sudden and deeply disruptive notes of the whistle made the very air shudder and had a similar but not identical effect on those standing nearby. Ben gave a start. Lily winced. Martin Cabot recoiled.
As soon as Lily felt the barrel of Cabot’s gun shift away from her back, she threw herself to the ground. There was no benefit to Cabot in shooting her. She had only ever served as a shield and a threat. Now she was neither. The private investigator had an advantage over Ben. His gun was drawn, while Ben’s was only now coming out of its holster. Ben, though, had an advantage over Cabot that the investigator could not imagine: Roen Shepard had the sheriff’s back. The train’s signal had covered the sound of the station door opening and the vibration concealed Roen’s long stride toward Cabot.
Ben was only surprised that Roen did not fire his weapon. Instead, he used Victorine Headley’s palm pistol to clobber Martin Cabot hard at the base of his skull. Cabot was felled like a tree. “Timber,” Ben said under his breath. He settled his gun back in its holster and rushed forward to drag Cabot off Lily so Roen could help her to her feet.
Roen slipped his weapon inside his jacket pocket and took Lily in his arms. He held on tight. She held on tighter.
Ben gave them a measure of privacy by examining Cabot’s injury and determining the man would live. The irony of Victorine’s pistol being Roen’s weapon of choice was not lost on Ben. The size of the pistol was likely the reason Cabot was still alive. Roen’s blow had been pitiless. Ben’s attention was drawn back to the train when the porter appeared on the steps of the car yet again. This time he was holding one of Cabot’s valises in each hand and looking at Roen for direction. Roen loosed one hand from Lily’s back and pointed to the platform. The porter tossed both valises. They thumped in quick succession at Ben’s feet. When Ben looked up, the porter had disappeared and No. 462 was beginning to roll on wheels of steel.
Shaking his head at the mystery of it all, Ben announced he was going to look in on Solomon.
“He has an egg-sized lump on his skull,” said Roen, “but I’ll wager the one I gave Cabot is half again that size.”
“Well done.” Ben squeezed Lily’s shoulder as he passed her on his way. “Quick thinking, Lily, you dropping like that. What happened that you seized the chance?”
Lily turned her head so she could see Ben but kept it solidly against Roen’s shoulder. “He recoiled when the engineer blew the whistle. I felt the gun move so I went down.”
Ben nodded. “Bet you gave Roen a few gray hairs.”
“More than a few,” said Roen.
“Silver,” Lily corrected. “Angel’s wings.”
Ben didn’t understand, but he saw Roen’s indulgent smile and knew that Roen’s comprehension was all that mattered. Ben left Roen and Lily alone on the platform and went into the station. Solomon Winslow had pulled himself into a sitting position on the floor and was leaning against the counter.
“The bastard,” he muttered when Ben hunkered down beside him. “Caught me unawares. How is Mrs. Shepard? He was grabbing at her when I interfered. Shame I didn’t get my hands on him.”
“Mrs. Shepard is fine. Better, in fact, than you. Mr. Cabot, on the other hand, is worse. You can thank Mr. Shepard for that. You think you can get to your feet?”
“Sure can.”
To be safe, Ben supported Solomon with an elbow and shoulder and helped him up. “How about sending a telegram for me? Can you do that?”
Solomon flexed his fingers. “Right as rain. All ten.” He sat at the telegraph machine. “Victor Headley, I presume.”
“That’s right.”
“I gave Mrs. Shepard a telegram from him right before that Cabot fella came in and made a fuss. Doubt Mr. Headley’s left New York yet, but he’s taking an express train here.”
“Good. You send this to him.” Ben gave him the message. “Make it from Ben Madison, Sheriff, Frost Falls.”
“Official like,” Solomon said, nodding as wisely as his namesake. “He’ll be sure to take notice.”
Ben waited for the telegram to go before he walked outside. Roen and Lily were no longer in a clinch. They were sitting cross-legged on the platform with one of the valises open between them. Roen was rooting through it while Lily waited patiently for him to produce what he was after.
“You looking for that agreement?” asked Ben.
Roen shook his head. “Found something better.”
Ben stepped closer and looked down past their bent heads into the contents of the open valise. “What?”
“Proof,” said Roen. He continued rummaging through Cabot’s belongings until he came across the item he had pushed to the bottom of the valise after discovering it. When his hand closed over it, he held it tightly and then lifted it out of the case. There was a modest measure of triumph in the way he raised up the glossy black lacquered box with gold Chinese characters painted so exquisitely across the top and along all four sides.
“What is it?” asked Ben. “Besides a box, I mean.”
Roen opened it up to reveal the red silk lining. The box was empty. “Victorine kept some of her jewelry in here. This is hers.”
“How do you know?” Ben asked.
Lily glanced up at him, frowning. “Truly, Ben, it’s obvious that Roen’s seen it before. They were intimates, you know.”
Ben flushed. The curse of a redhead. “When did you become so forthright? It’s Ridley’s influence, isn’t it?”
Lily smirked and turned her attention back to the box. She held out a hand. “May I?”
Roen passed it to her. He spoke to Ben. “Lily’s right. I have seen it before, but what she is about to learn is that it was a gift I gave Victorine on the occasion of her birthday. The characters on the lid represent the Chinese year of her birth. Oddly enough, the year of the red fire rat, although it should not be interpreted through a Western lens. The characters on the sides—if I recall correctly—are harmony, joy, happiness, and prosperity.”
Ben hunkered beside Martin Cabot and produced a pair of handcuffs that he fitted to the man’s wrists behind his back. “So evidence, then, that Cabot was in her suite on at least one occasion.”
“She didn’t give that to him,” said Roen. “He took it from her.”
“Her jewelry was loose in the top drawer of the chest in her room,” said Ben. “I found it there when I searched her room.”
“Victorine was not careless with her belongings. She didn’t trust the help in her father’s house. She would have never trusted the staff at the Butterworth.”
Lily finished examining the box and passed it to Ben. “I think what you have there trumps your circumstantial evidence, Ben, and brings all of Mr. Cabot’s lies to light. He is your murderer. As Roen said, ‘Proof.’”
Chapter Thirty-nine
It was the middle of January before Martin Cabot’s trial came before Judge Miner. Victor Headley was not in attendance. He stayed in Frost Falls long enough to collect his daughter’s body and thank Ben and Roen for their diligence and speedy resolution. He asked to know the details of her murder but his countenance remained as unyielding as granite while Ben described the circumstances of Victorine’s death. Victor did not evince any surprise when Roen told him that Victorine had used the pretense of a pregnancy to provoke a proposal, but it was the first time he revealed a hint of grief, though whether it was because of the loss of a child that never was or that his daughter had demeaned herself in such a manner, neither Roen nor Ben could say.
Victor asked to see Martin Cabot. Ben would not allow Victor to step into the cell with Martin, but he did agree to give them privacy. It was a brief meeting, no more than five minutes, and whatever was said left the private investigator with a pasty face and a tremor in his hands.
While Cabot awaited his day in court, professing his innocence to the Ledger and a reporter sent up from Denver for the Rocky, as well as his lawyer and whoever happened to be in the adjoining cell, usually on a Friday or Saturday night, the people of Frost Falls went about their business, which at this time of year was most notably preparations for Christmas and the annual New Year celebration at the Butterworth.
Ridley Madison decided Christmas Eve was the ideal occasion for the dinner party she wanted to host. Lily helped her select a menu agreeable to the palates of the adults and children, though she assured Ridley her children would eat whatever was put in front of them. At Lily’s suggestion, Ridley delivered the invitations personally, thus assuring Fedora’s attendance.
