A Touch of Camelot (4 page)

"You'd think so."

"So, what's going on?"

The older man tossed up both hands as if at a loss to understand the workings of the criminal mind. "Who knows? Most likely they're afraid."

"But you said the killer is behind bars."

"Maybe they don’t expect it to stay that way. Maybe they're just averse to cooperating with the authorities. They've been well trained since the cradle to avoid the law."

Cole shook his head. "It just doesn't sound right."

"Far be it from me to tell you not to follow your own instincts when you're out in the field, but just remember, these two will lie to you faster than you can blink an eye. Don’t let your guard down."

Cole sighed. "Who's the client?"

"A millionaire from San Francisco named Phineas Taylor. He's running for mayor."

"So, what's he got to do with the murder of a con man?"

"The man accused of the murders is a bandit named Ricardo Cortez. Without the testimony of the young lady and boy, there's not enough evidence to convict him. Mr. Taylor feels it will be an affront to the justice system if Mr. Cortez is set free."

"And he's willing to pay for it?" Cole asked doubtfully. "Very noble of him."

Fritz smiled in cynical agreement. "I don't doubt it will make him look good politically." Closing the file, he pushed back from his desk, preparing to stand. "Well, there you have it, Cole. This assignment shouldn't keep you tied up for more than ten days at the most. Do you want it?"

Cole opened his mouth, then paused. What was he supposed to say? Was he to speak the truth?
You know, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I signed on with the Agency.
Was he supposed to ask Fritz why they had trained him with their best men for nine months if all they were going to do was assign him to escort duty?

No, that wasn't what he was supposed to say. What he was supposed to say was,
Yes, I'll take the damned assignment. This one and every one after it, because, sooner or later, after I've proven myself to you, I'll finally get something I can sink my teeth into. Sooner or later, I'll get to do what I've wanted to do all my life, real detective work.

Cole rose to his feet. "I'll take it, Fritz, but count on my being back very soon. By then, I hope you'll come up with something a bit more challenging."

Fritz chuckled good-naturedly. "Not every job well done makes the newspapers, Cole, but rest assured they never go unnoticed at the home office." He picked up the Brother Christian/Silas Pierce file from his desk and offered it to Cole. "All the information and paperwork is here."

"Ten days," Cole stated firmly, taking the file and turning to leave.

His hand was on the doorknob when Fritz's parting comment reached his ears. "Good luck, Cole. I have a feeling you're going to need it."

*

Caldwell, Kansas, July 11

Temporary Deputy Hollis McGee was beginning to think he could use a stiff shot of rye whiskey about now. Constable Mears had promised Hollis a part of the reward money if only he would sit guard over the girl and her kid brother for a few hours. Nothing to it, he had said. How much trouble could they be?

Like most bad ideas, it had sounded like a good one at the time.

"
Deputy McGee
! Are you listening to me out there?"

Hollis felt the muscles in the back of his neck bunch into a knot. He renewed for probably the tenth time in the last hour his solemn vow to remain a bachelor for life. He suspected marriage would be a lot like this—like being stuck in a box with one of them yippy little Chihuahua dogs.

"So, Deputy McGee, how many cards do you want?" The kid blinked at him from across the desk, his blue eyes sparkling like a couple of brand-new pennies.

Now, the kid, he was another story. Good as gold. Sweet as a stick of horehound candy. And sharp as a tack, too. He was a pretty fair poker player, especially for a little squirt.

Before Hollis could reply, his ears were assaulted anew by the banshee in the back room. "It’s hot as Hades in this stinking cell, and I’m sweating like a pig in a barnyard! I demand that I be permitted to bathe!"

"Geez damn!" Hollis slapped his cards onto the desk. "Don't she ever plug it up?"

The kid gave a shrug. "She's been in a bad mood ever since we got here."

"Sheee-it! Ya can say that again!"

"Did you hear me, Deputy McGee?
Deputy McGee!
"

"Keep yer petticoats on back there! I heard ya! And ya know I cain't let ya out fer no bath! Mrs. Henry will see to yer woman-needs when she gets back from visitin' the Widow Palmer!"

"This is an outrage! Just exactly what crime am I supposed to be charged with, anyway? I haven't heard a word about that!"

Hollis focused on the dingy mirror that hung on the wall to the right of the constable's desk. The mirror, situated strategically between a brewery calendar and a collection of WANTED posters, afforded Hollis an unobstructed view of the jail cell in the back room. The girl now paced its short length, back and forth, grumpy and restless. She was a pretty little thing, but a fella sure forgot that soon enough. As soon as she opened her mouth, to be precise.

"The way I hear it, Miz Pierce, you done got yerself caught a-stealin' long johns off the mayor's washline. Now, ain't that a fact?"

She threw both hands up. "Oh, pooh! How was I supposed to know they belonged to the mayor?"

“That's no never mind to me. All I know is that you two must be important to someone because they got one of them Pinkerton fellas comin' to get ya, and there's a hundred dollar ree-ward out on yer heads."

She stopped pacing and clutched the cell bars. "I don't know anything about any reward money. There must be some mistake."

Hollis chortled gleefully. "Well, I'm fixin' to spend my share of that mistake down at Moreland's Saloon as soon as—"

"This is the worst excuse for a jail that it has ever been my misfortune to encounter!"

"Well, Miz Pierce, I am so sorry, but the princess cell is plumb full up! What do ya 'spect me to do?"

She just glowered in reply.

Hollis returned his attention to the kid. "Now, where were we, little fella?"

"This cot is filthy! I probably have fleas and you people won't even let me take a bath!"

Hollis's left eye started to twitch. "Miz Pierce, you got a basin of water, a sponge, and a cake of soap back there. Why don't ya put it to good use and wash out that big mouth of yours?"

"Well! I beg your pardon!"

"My pardon? You got it, Miz Pierce. Just shut yer yap and let us get back to our game."

"Fine and dandy. I'll manage with what I got, but you just be sure to keep your lustful manly eyes to yourself out there, Deputy McGee."

Hollis picked up his playing cards.
Lustful?
He tilted his head to peer up at the mirror. She had her foot up on the bunk and looked to be wrestling to get her shoe off. He reckoned next time he rounded the corner, he would have to watch out for one of those pointy little shoes to come flying out at him from between the cell bars.

The kid drummed stubby fingers on the desk. "Deputy McGee, how many cards do you want?"

"Two." Hollis slapped down a pair of cards, then hawked and sent a sleek jet of tobacco juice directly into the spittoon at his feet. It was nearly empty and made a delightful little
ting!
Hollis loved that little
ting!
He prided himself on his marksmanship.

Hollis glanced up at the mirror before returning to the cards in his hand. Then he almost fell off his chair. He jerked his eyes back up to the mirror. She was unbuttoning her dress. Surely, she wasn't going to ...? Surely, she wouldn't!
Would she?

Hollis looked away and felt a hot blush creep up his neck. He took the two cards the kid offered and threw in a matchstick to bet.

As the kid mulled over the cards in his hand, Hollis snuck another peek at the mirror. Her dress was off, revealing some flimsy cotton doohickey-thing she wore beneath. Sunlight filtered into the cell through the bars of the small window above the cot. When she turned sideways, ever so slightly, Hollis thought he could
almost
see through the doohickey-thing.

"Deputy McGee?"

Hollis jumped and looked back at the boy. "What's that?"

"I raised you one. It's your turn."

Hollis tried to concentrate on his hand. Constable Mears had never said what he should do under these particular circumstances. Should he march on back there and demand that she cease and desist?

What if Constable Mears returned to find his prisoner stripped down to her whites? Would Hollis be in trouble? And then another thought occurred to him, a thought that darn near starched his shorts. What if she went even farther than her whites? What if she stripped down until she was
buck naked
?

Hollis's gaze flew back to the mirror. She was stepping out of her petticoat! Geez damn! The fellas down at Moreland's Saloon were never going to believe this!

The kid sighed. "Are you in or out, Deputy McGee?"

Hollis threw in two matchsticks. "Call and raise one." He loosened his collar. He was starting to sweat.

The kid threw down his hand. "I'm out."

Hollis took his winnings and quickly gathered up the cards, trying to be inconspicuous as he observed his comely prisoner in the mirror. She was removing her stockings. He caught a glimpse of a smooth, shapely calf ...

The boy spoke. "Deputy McGee?"

"Hmmmmm?" Hollis kept one eye on the mirror as he shuffled. She had one bare naked foot perched up on the bunk again and was swishing the water in the basin with one hand, making soapsuds.

"Deputy, I got to go to the outhouse."

Hollis tore his eyes from the mirror to glare at the kid. "What? Now?"

"Yes, now." The boy fumbled in his seat.

"Well, can't ya just hold it?"

The kid frowned. "Why do I need to hold it?"

Hollis threw a desperate glance at the mirror. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed as she squeezed a sponge against the hollow of her neck. Hollis's mouth dropped open as a gush of water soaked through the front of her undergarments.

Hollis flapped a hand at the kid. "Well, git along."

"You aren't going with me?"

"Hell no!"
Realizing that he'd barked, Hollis ripped his attention from the mirror. "Uh, I mean, I can trust ya, right? You ain't goin' nowhere without yer sister ... right?"

The kid cocked his head and grinned. "That
is
right. Good thinking, Deputy. I'll be right back."

Hollis shooed the kid away and spat his whole wad of chew at the spittoon. He missed his target. "Thatta boy, ya take yer good old time now, ya hear?"

The kid slammed the door on his way out.

Hollis didn't notice. The girl was loosening the ribbon ties on her doohickey!
Whoa doggies!
And to think that Constable Mears would actually pay him when this was all over. Hollis could hardly believe his luck.

"Deputy McGee?"

The deputy didn't have time to think about the fact that he had not heard the door open again
before
the kid called his name. He only had time to think,
Back already? That kid must go faster than a jackrabbit
, because it was just then that his own personal show curtain fell with a crash. And everything went dark.

*

Cole emerged from the alley between a bank and a dry goods store. The constable's office was located just across the main street thoroughfare, a modest wooden structure sandwiched like a second thought between two red brick buildings.

He was crossing the dusty street when he saw the door open and two figures step out into the sun-drenched afternoon. A woman and a boy. They both wore hats that shaded their faces; hers a frowsy sunbonnet, his a navy blue engineer's cap.

Cole stepped up onto the boardwalk and paused to observe the pair. "Nah, it couldn't be …"

He watched as they set out at a brisk pace in his direction. To Cole, they now took on the impression of two scurrying mice, two scurrying, escaping,
guilty
mice. The woman's head was down and so was the boy's. Neither looked up in time to keep from barreling into Cole, who didn't move from where he stood in the middle of the boardwalk.

"Oooh!" The woman stumbled backward, tripping over her skirt hem and landing with an indelicate thump onto her behind.

Cole bent to give her a hand up and found himself staring into two of the palest blue eyes he had ever seen. Her cheekbones were high and tinged with color, her mouth perfectly shaped, her lips a dusky rose. The wisps of hair that peeked out from that ridiculous sunbonnet were the color of ginger spice.

It was Gwendolyn Pierce, all right. She fit her file description perfectly except for one thing. It hadn't mentioned how incredibly pretty she was. It hit Cole like a slap in the face.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" he asked.

She didn't take his hand. She just stared up at him, her mouth hanging open like a barn door.

Cole looked deep into those long-lashed, pale blue eyes and felt for one dazzling, disorienting moment that he knew her. Then the feeling passed. "Uh, I said, are you all right? Can I help you up?"

"Yes, I'm all right."

Her brother danced from one foot to the other. "She's all right! Come on! Get up, Gwinnie!"

Gwendolyn Pierce continued to stare at Cole as if she were seeing the ghost of a dead lover, and he wondered guiltily if she'd knocked a rafter or two loose in their not-so-accidental collision. She finally took his hand. It felt unexpectedly small and delicate, not at all like the hand of a criminal. Then she was on her feet, brushing off her skirt with quick, nervous strokes. "I'm sorry, we were in a hurry to ... to get home."

"I bet you were."

The kid grabbed his sister by the arm and tugged. "Come on, Gwinnie! We gotta get home. We gotta get home right now."

They started to move away.

Cole debated how much of a head start he should give them. They'd clearly put a lot of effort into this little escape of theirs. "Are you sure you're all right?" he called after them.