Carol Cox (27 page)

Caleb gave a rueful laugh. “That sounds a lot like what we’ve been seeing around town, all right.”

Will grinned. “Cattle are some of the most brainless critters God ever put on this earth. The only thing dumber than cattle is sheep.” His grin broadened as he headed toward the door. “And you know which one the Bible compares people to.”

T
hunder rumbled again in the distance, sounding like a portent of doom. Melanie shook off the melancholy fancy. They had problems enough to deal with without her conjuring up more. And the first issue at hand was getting the store ready to open. She closed the office door to shut out the sight of the havoc their intruder had left behind.

She paused with her hand on the knob. “Do you think Mr. O’Shea is the one who broke in last night?”

Caleb scoffed. “O’Shea? Not on your life. He’s despicable—I’ll grant you that—but I think he’s more of a rabble-rouser, the kind of coward who wants to stir things up but has to have a group of cronies backing him up while he does it. I can’t imagine him breaking in. It would take too much nerve for the likes of him.”

The heaviness she’d felt since making her disturbing discoveries that morning settled in again like a dark cloud. “Then who?” She saw a shadow flit across Caleb’s face. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

As Caleb opened his mouth to speak, a small voice called from the top of the stairs. “Papa, can I come down now?”

“Of course, son. Why don’t you come play in your fort.” He exchanged a glance with Melanie, and she knew their discussion would have to be postponed. She busied herself with the feather duster while Caleb got Levi settled and made sure he was happily occupied. A few minutes later, he approached and drew her to the far end of the store.

Melanie kept her voice low. “What were you getting ready to say?”

Caleb looked over his shoulder toward the counter, as if to assure himself that Levi couldn’t overhear. “Did you notice the look on Doc’s face last night when I told him that book came from the Professor?”

Melanie nodded slowly. “I did see something, but I didn’t know what to make of it. Do you think he suspects the Professor?”

“I’m not sure, either, but I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

Melanie stared at him, unsettled by his somber expression. “What are you saying?”

“Think about it. Did you see all the weapons the Professor has in his collection? The man seems to have a fascination with instruments of death. And he was the one who brought up the possibility of Charley being killed by poison in the first place. It’s almost like he steered us in that direction.”

Melanie pondered the idea a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Why would he point you to that book if he was guilty?”

Caleb flung his hands upward. “I don’t want to believe it any more than you do, but you have to admit he’s an odd
duck. Maybe he is trying to make himself appear innocent by giving us information—throw us off the scent.”

Melanie tightened her grip on the feather duster. “But why would he break in here?”

Caleb shrugged. “I don’t know. The obvious answer would be to get more poison. But if that’s the case, why the mess in the office?”

Melanie measured her words with care, hating herself for even considering the possibility of the Professor’s guilt. “I don’t know . . . He may be odd, but he’s also highly intelligent. He had to know that once the possibility of poison entered our thinking, we’d start looking at records of purchases and orders . . . and that at some point we’d begin to fit all the pieces together.”

She flung the feather duster to the floor and clapped her hands to her cheeks. “What are we doing? We’re just as bad as the rest of them, casting suspicion on someone—a friend, no less!—with nothing but the most circumstantial evidence to back it up. I know the Professor is a bit eccentric, but I simply can’t believe he’s capable of harming anyone.” She lowered her hands and added, more to herself than to Caleb, “At least, I don’t want to believe it.”

“Neither do I.” Caleb reached out and took both of her hands in his. “But we’re dealing with murder here. I don’t think we can completely discount the possibility. And I’m pretty sure Doc’s mind is running along those same lines.”

Melanie squeezed Caleb’s hands, drawing strength from his touch. “In that case, we need to let the marshal know.”

To her surprise, Caleb shook his head. “We can’t do that, not yet anyway. As you just said, we don’t have any solid evidence, only suspicion.”

She pulled her hands away. “Then what are we supposed to do? You said it yourself—we’re dealing with murder, and there are people in this town who think we’re involved somehow. Are we supposed to just sit by and wait for a lynch mob to come back to our door? Or for whoever is behind these murders to come after us next?”

Caleb caught her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “First of all, we need to keep our wits about us so we can go on as we planned. We’ll look through every record in the office if we need to—see if we can find something to point us in the right direction. Something solid enough to take to Marshal Hooper.”

The bell jingled, and Andrew Bingham’s cheery voice called out, “Hey, Caleb, I’m in need of some cakes of soap and shaving brushes. Can you help me out?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be right with you.” He bent close to Melanie’s ear and murmured, “This may take a few minutes. You go ahead and get started. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve taken care of Andrew.”

Melanie nodded and hurried to the office, where she scooped up the scattered papers and piled them on the desk in an unorganized heap. No point in sorting them first; she could do that while she read through the stack. She sat down on the wooden chair and picked up the first sheet. After scanning it quickly, she set it aside, her frustration mounting. Their plan to look for evidence had sounded simple enough, but how was she supposed to recognize a clue when she didn’t have a clear idea of what she was looking for?

She went on to the next sheet, and the next, seeing nothing that caught her attention.

She swiveled around in her chair and peered out through the office door. Caleb stood at the counter, chatting with Andrew Bingham as he bundled the barber’s order into a neat parcel. She turned back to the desk, fuming. How long could it take to wrap up a few bars of soap and a shaving brush or two? She needed him searching, too, needed him to help her find the proof that would end their nightmare.

A soft scuffle of feet sounded behind her and she swung around, expecting to see Caleb. Instead, Levi staggered toward her, his skinny arms wrapped around a bulky object. Melanie gasped and leaped to her feet when she recognized the fragile music box.

Before she could reach him, Levi stumbled and thumped the music box down on the small table. He beamed up at her. “I brought you something to cheer you up, Miss Ross. Look, I winded it myself.” He lifted the lid with a flourish and moved the lever to one side. Instead of launching into the lilting strains of “Liebestraum,” two notes plunked into the air, and then the box fell silent.

“Oh no.” Melanie jumped up and leaned over the box. Maybe he had wound the spring too tight. She gave the key a gentle twist with her fingers, relieved when it turned freely. She moved the lever from side to side, but to no avail. The cylinder refused to turn. Had the sudden drop onto the table damaged the box? Her heart sank.

“Levi Nelson, what have you done?”

His smile melted away, replaced by a look of alarm. Keeping his eyes focused on Melanie, he backed away toward the door leading out into the mercantile.

“Not so fast, young man.” Melanie’s authoritative tone stopped him in his tracks.

Caleb appeared in the doorway behind Levi. “What’s going on?”

Levi twisted his head around and looked up at his father in mute appeal. “Miss Ross was looking sad. I was just trying to make her happy.”

“By breaking an expensive piece like this?” Melanie sputtered.

Levi hung his head. “You said you liked that song. I thought maybe if you heard it you’d be happy again, like the night you danced with Papa.”

Melanie felt her cheeks flame, and her gaze flew to meet Caleb’s. She’d been so sure Levi had been asleep the night of their dinner party, but apparently he had heard the music and seen them dancing. What else had he seen? She remembered the way they’d stood after the music ended, staring into each other’s eyes, and her face grew hotter.

Caleb bent down and addressed his son calmly. “You had no business touching that music box, son. You know better than to handle something like that without asking permission first.”

The little boy’s face crumpled, and tears spilled from his eyes to wind their way down his cheeks. “I was just . . . I just wanted . . .” Spinning around, he pushed past Caleb and darted out of the room. Melanie could hear his feet pounding across the wooden floor, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut.

Without a word, Caleb turned and strode after him. He returned a few moments later, alone, his face set in a stern line.

Melanie pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I am so sorry. I let my frayed nerves get the best of me, and I blew it all out of proportion. I never meant to upset him like that.”

Caleb rubbed his forehead. “I know his heart was in the right place, and he only meant to help, but you’re right—he had no business handling that box.”

Melanie caught her breath. “Do you think you ought to go check on him?”

Caleb shook his head. “I’m sure he headed home. He just needs some time to himself so he can sort things out.” He walked over and wrapped his arms around Melanie, rubbing his chin against her hair. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. With everything that’s going on right now, we’re all on edge.”

Melanie nestled against his shirt, feeling his heart beat beneath her cheek. “Are you sure he’ll be all right over there by himself?”

Caleb gave her a quick squeeze, then released her. “I’ll keep watch through the window. In the meantime, let’s focus on looking for something that will give us the answers we need so we can bring an end to this.”

An hour later, they were still at it, and Melanie felt ready to burst with frustration. “I can’t believe it. We’ve gone through over a year’s worth of records, and we have nothing to show for it.”

“No,” Caleb countered, “the problem is that we have too much.” He held up the list they’d been making as they worked. “We sold stomach bitters containing ipecac to the Professor, and Merrell’s Triturates to Will. Even some of Mrs. Fetterman’s favorite remedies would be toxic if taken in a large enough dose. And the same could be said for most of our patent medicines. Half the people in town have come in to buy those at one time or another.” He shook his head. “It isn’t that we don’t have any suspects—we have too many.”

Melanie let out a bitter laugh. “Which means we’re no
closer to the truth than when we started. The whole town can’t be in on it. Maybe none of them are. How are we ever going to find what we’re looking for?”

Caleb picked up the next sheet of paper. “We keep on sifting through this. That’s all I know to do. Surely this will sort itself out if we just look hard enough.”

“Go ahead,” Melanie said. “I need a minute to clear my head.” Looking for a distraction, she got up and moved over to the music box. If Levi hadn’t damaged the internal workings irreparably, perhaps she could figure out what was wrong.

She closed the lid and turned the box over to examine the underside. Nothing seemed amiss, as far as she could see. Turning it back upright, she raised the lid again and peered down at the mechanism. Without taking her eyes off the cylinder, she moved the lever first to the right, then to the left.

The gears started whirring, and the cylinder jerked into motion, then stopped.

Wait a minute.
Melanie repeated the maneuver, watching closely. Was something caught in one of the gears?

She looked over at Caleb, intending to show him and ask his advice, but he seemed intent on the records spread out on the desk before him. She turned her attention back to the music box. Did she dare attempt to meddle with the delicate instrument?

Lifting the box slightly to catch the light better, she tilted it from one side to the other. Yes, it was just as she’d thought. Something was wedged under the largest gear, next to the cylinder. She reached to try to pull it loose, but the space was too narrow to allow her fingers to touch it. Going out to the display of ladies’ toiletries, she fetched a pair of tweezers and tried again. This time, she managed to catch hold of what
appeared to be the corner of a piece of paper tucked under the mechanism. With infinite care, she pushed the corner from between the gear and cylinder and pulled the sheet of paper from beneath the mechanism.

Hardly daring to breathe, she set the paper on the table and pushed the lever again. The gears whirred, and an instant later the first notes of “Liebestraum” tinkled into the air.

Caleb swiveled around in his chair, a smile easing his harried frown. “You got it working again.”

She nodded. “There was some paper jammed in the gears that was keeping the cylinder from turning.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “That’s odd. It was working fine the other night.”

Their eyes met and held, and Melanie felt her throat go dry at the memory of their waltz together. She caught her breath and looked away. “Levi stumbled and set the box down on the table with quite a thud. That must have jammed a corner of the paper into the mechanism.”