Love in Disguise (20 page)

“Will you be all right if I leave you for a moment?”

No!
“Yes, if you don’t go too far.”

“I’ll only be a step or two away.” He moved over to the entrance, and Ellie watched him trace an arc in the air with the light, outlining the doorway. “One of the beams came down,” he said in a grim voice.

“Then it wasn’t a cave-in?”

“No, it brought a good bit of debris along with it when it fell, but everything is fine. We’ll have to climb over a few rocks, but at least it didn’t block the exit.” Steven reached for her hand and helped her step over the debris; then they made their way out of the mine in silence.

Soon a glimmer of sunlight came into view, and a moment later she stood outdoors again, gulping in great lungfuls of the blessed fresh air.

Steven eyed her with concern. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes.”
Except for nearly making an utter fool of myself.
Ellie swallowed to clear the quaver from her voice and added, “I’m a bit shaken. That’s all.”

He nodded, not looking totally convinced.

She glanced back at the mine entrance and felt a shudder sweep over her. “Are accidents like that a common occurrence?”

“No, they aren’t.” Steven followed her gaze, his mouth set in a grim line. “I’ll have my foreman find out which one of the men is responsible for putting that beam in place. He’ll have to answer for his shoddy workmanship.”

He turned back to Ellie, hesitation in his eyes. “I had planned to show you my office and go over the books with you, but perhaps this isn’t the best time.”

Ellie wavered. A good detective would welcome the opportunity to learn as many facts as possible. At the moment, though, she felt less like a detective and more like a frightened child. “I’m afraid you’re right. If you don’t mind seeing me home, I think I’d better lie down.”

The moment she stepped into the house, Ellie knew something was wrong. She froze just inside the front door, trying to determine what had set her senses on alert. The curtains were drawn, and the living room furniture looked just as she’d left it. From what she could see from her position by the door, the kitchen appeared to be undisturbed, as well.

She shifted her gaze to the drop-front desk near the second bedroom, and her heart leaped into her throat. The drawers had been closed when she went out—she was sure of it. Now two of them were open slightly. Edging closer, she saw the corners of several papers poking out of the drawer where she kept her notes.

Someone had been in the house. Someone had looked through her notes.

A floorboard creaked in the second bedroom, Ellie clapped one gloved hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Whoever had rifled through her desk was still there.

Casting a wild glance around the room, Ellie snatched up a parasol propped beside the front door. Holding it over her shoulder like a baseball bat, she nudged the door open with her toe and prepared to confront the intruder.

A figure was crouched before the window, tugging at the latch. This time Ellie couldn’t hold back the scream that rose to her lips. The prowler whirled to face her.

“Billy Taylor!”

The boy backed away until he came up against the wall, eyeing her improvised club.

Seeing the flicker of fear in his eyes, Ellie lowered the weapon and planted her hands on her hips. “What on earth do you think you’re doing in my house?”

“Nothin’.” His dejected tone spoke of sorrow at being caught rather than remorse for housebreaking.

Ellie’s hands tightened on the parasol, and then she set it against the wall, putting temptation out of reach. She folded her arms. “Nothing, indeed. This is far worse than snooping under my window. How did you get in here, anyway? The door was locked.”

A triumphant smile lit his face. “The back window wasn’t. It doesn’t open up very wide, but it was enough to let me slip through.”

Ellie made a mental note to make sure she locked all the windows from this point on. “And once you were inside, then what? Did you come to steal from me, or just go through my things? I have a good mind to tell your mother. Or maybe Marshal Bascomb. I bet he could scare some sense into you.”

“Go ahead,” he retorted. “And I’ll tell him what I know about you.”

His words brought Ellie up short. “And what would that be?”

“There’s really only one of you.”

Ellie’s knees sagged, and she pressed one hand against her chest. “What are you talking about?”

From his cheeky grin, she suspected her own show of bravado wasn’t nearly as effective as Billy’s had been. She made an effort to stiffen her trembling knees and tried to bluster her way out. “What makes you say a foolish thing like that?”

“It ain’t foolish. Nobody’s using this bedroom, for one thing.”

“Two people can share a bedroom, you know.”

“Yeah, but there’s only one hairbrush in the other. And only one set of dishes drying by the sink. Besides, I found her head.”

Ellie gasped, then realized he must be referring to the wig stand, now holding Jessie’s red curls.

Billy hooked his thumbs in the top of his trousers. “I know what you’re up to.”

Ellie’s mouth went dry. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head toward the doorway and the desk beyond. “All that stuff you’ve written down. You’re awfully interested in the silver that’s gone missing.” His eyes took on a knowing light. “You’re some kind of detective, aren’t you?”

Ellie gave up any pretense of not understanding. “And what if I am?”

“I knew it! Wait’ll I tell the other fellas.”

“No, you can’t do that!” Horror seized Ellie, but then inspiration struck. Billy had aspirations of being a spy. Maybe she could work that interest to her advantage. “How would you like to be a junior detective, Billy?”

The boy’s face crinkled. “A what?”

“A junior
Pinkerton
detective. You’ve already shown remarkable talent for gathering information.” She held her breath while she awaited his response.

Billy tilted his head. “What would I have to do?”

“Well . . .” Ellie took a deep breath and improvised as she went along. “You could be my helper and carry out assignments to assist me in this investigation. But you couldn’t tell anybody else what you were up to. That’s very important. Nobody could know except you and me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How do I know this is the real thing?”

“Wait here.” Ellie hurried to her bedroom and rummaged through the wicker hamper. Pulling out a small tray of costume jewelry, she selected a medallion-shaped brooch and carried it back to where Billy was waiting.

“Here’s your badge.”

His eyes widened in a most satisfactory manner. “For keeps? Can I wear it all the time?”

Ellie nodded. “But you’ll have to wear it like this.” She bent over and pinned it to the inside of his shirt. “There, now it’s official. But to be a good detective, you have to be able to keep a secret. This is just between you and me, understand?”

Billy nodded and puffed out his skinny chest. “So what am I supposed to do first?”

Ellie scrambled for an answer. “Keep your eyes open for any suspicious activity. If you see something I should know about, report to me immediately.”

His face glowed. “You can count on me.” He threw his shoulders back and stood straighter as he hurried from the house . . . through the front door this time.

A brief nap and a bracing cup of tea went a long way toward restoring her equanimity. Who would have thought that a day that had begun with the intention to educate herself about mining would turn out to bring such peril? A light shudder rippled across her shoulders as her memory replayed the panic that had swept through her when that heavy beam came crashing down. But it was almost worth it to experience the safety she’d felt in the circle of Steven’s arms.

Ellie tightened the belt on her wrapper and walked to the desk, where she kept her notes. She had no desire to do any more investigating that evening. Between the incident in the mine and discovering Billy Taylor rifling through her house, she’d already had plenty of adventure for one day. Any work she did on the case that night would be of a more cerebral nature.

Outdoors she could hear the cries of Billy and his cronies as they whooped and hollered along the road. She checked to make sure her front drapes were pulled tight. The last thing she needed was for any more curious children to spy a brown-haired stranger in Mrs. Stewart’s house.

Pulling the papers, pen, and ink from the drawer, she spread them out on the table. She couldn’t possibly continue investigating every single person in town. She would have to narrow the field of possibilities.

Ellie scanned the list, looking for names she could consider above suspicion. But how could she possibly determine that?

With a groan, she folded her arms on the table and rested her forehead on them. What was she going to do? Bringing Jessie into the investigation had broadened the scope of her inquiries by allowing her to converse with a wider range of people, but it hadn’t done a thing toward helping her focus her efforts. And it hadn’t brought Norma’s expertise into play. Yes, she had found the note that might be a correspondence between the thieves, but she hadn’t seen the man she saw reading it since. Ellie’s stomach knotted. If she didn’t make significant progress—and soon—how long would the Pinkertons be satisfied with cryptic telegrams?

And how long would it be before she received a wire letting her know that her services were no longer needed?

16

G
ot a minute?”

Steven looked up from his desk to see Milt Strickland leaning in the doorway. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“I want to show you something.”

Now what?
Mystified, Steven followed his foreman to the mine entrance, hoping he wasn’t about to receive more bad news. The abrupt ending to Lavinia Stewart’s mine tour the day before left him with little optimism about his financial prospects. Plucky and adventuresome Mrs. Stewart might be, but no woman in her right mind would choose to invest in a venture she probably now viewed as a deathtrap.

He waited while Milt lit a lantern, then led the way down into the mine. “Is everything going all right with that new vein?”

“It’s going fine. It didn’t take long to clear away the debris and reset the beam. But I’ve got something else on my mind.” They turned toward the new shaft, but instead of entering it, Milt stopped and knelt at the right side of the entryway. “Take a look at this.”

Steven dropped to one knee beside him and watched as Milt moved a fist-sized rock to one side and pointed. The flickering lamplight showed it clearly enough—a slender spike driven into the wooden upright. One end of a thin wire about eighteen inches long was wrapped around the metal shaft.

Steven sat back on his heels. “What on earth?”

Milt pushed himself to his feet and stepped across to the other side of the entryway. “Now look down there.”

Steven studied the impassive face of his foreman and did as he was told. Milt obviously intended for him to figure something out for himself. The round end of an eyebolt protruded from the left upright at the same level as the spike on the right.

He stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “Call me thick-headed, but I still don’t see what you’re getting at.”

Milt reached behind a pile of rubble and scooped up a dark object. He held it out to Steven. “That’s the wedge that was holding this end of the brace in place.”

Steven reached out to take the wedge and noticed several feet of the same thin wire trailing away from the chunk of wood.

Milt traced a line from the top of the doorway down to the eyebolt. “It appears to me this wire was fastened to the wedge and run down here through the bolt, then across to the spike on the other side.”

Steven looked from the wedge in his hand to the top of the opening, then down to the eyebolt at his feet and across to the spike, trying to come up with some other explanation than the one that seemed all too obvious. He turned back to face Milt. “You mean—”

“Yeah. It was no accident.”

Steven braced one hand against the wall and hefted the wedge in the other hand. Someone meant to bring that beam down. All it would take was a boot catching the wire at the entrance to the tunnel. Like a flash, he remembered Mrs. Stewart stumbling as they entered the shaft, and anger roiled up through him.
Deathtrap
might not be too strong a word to describe the ambush some evil mind had devised. “But who would want to sabotage the Redemption?”