Petticoat Detective (35 page)

Here we go, God. Here we go
.

The downstairs appeared deserted. So far so good. Now if Miss Lillian just remembered to leave the front door unlocked. She didn’t want to waste time using the trapdoor.

She descended the stairs quietly and glanced into the parlor. Much to her relief, the room was empty. The lamps were still lit and the sickly smell of perfume hung in the air, but all that remained of the fire was red embers.

She started for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Halted by Coral’s voice, Amy turned. “Out for fresh air.”

“Liar!” Coral descended the stairs, and even the paint piled on her dark-skinned face couldn’t hide her hateful expression. “What did you say to drive all the guests away?”

“All I did was read their fortunes.”

“Don’t lie to me. I knew there was something not right about you from the start.”

Amy’s hands balled at her sides, but she maintained a calm demeanor. She didn’t have time for an argument. “I have nothing more to say, Coral.”

“Well, I have plenty to say to you.”

“What’s going on?” Buttercup appeared at the top of the stairs. Wearing a corset and bloomers, she stood braiding her hair into a single plait. Polly peered over her shoulder.

“Nothing’s going on,” Amy said.

Coral advanced toward her. She was still dressed in her working clothes, and the taffeta rustled like dry leaves. “It’s not the first time you left the house at night.”

If Coral had been the one with Monahan at the cellar door, she was a fine one to talk.

The quick pitter-patter of footsteps preceded Miss Lillian’s arrival. Her gaze bounced between Amy and Coral. “What’s all the fuss?”

“Coral objects to my going outside for air,” Amy said.

Coral’s brown eyes flashed with dangerous lights. “What I object to is your sneaking around and pretending to be something you’re not. You might fool Miss Lillian, but you can’t fool me.” She turned to the others. “Not only was Rose murdered the day Amy arrived, but somehow she got Georgia to leave. Then after disappearing for weeks without a word, she comes back and chases away all our guests.”

The chimes of the tall clock rang out the quarter hour. Amy was anxious to get to town. She didn’t want to miss seeing Monahan arrested. “I don’t have time for this.” She reached for the doorknob, but Coral grabbed her by the wrist.

“You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers.”

Amy tried pulling away, but Coral’s grip tightened. “Let go of me.”

Coral’s nose was practically in Amy’s face. “Over my dead body.”

Amy glared at her. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“I declare to goodness!” Miss Lillian clapped her hands. “I won’t have my girls acting like a bunch of alley cats,” she said, but no amount of pleading would loosen Coral’s grasp.

Amy couldn’t afford to wait another minute. She slipped her one free hand into her false pocket and pulled out her derringer.

Coral fell back, her face a mask of astonishment. Amy muttered an apology, though she didn’t feel particularly sorry. If Coral had hit her over the head in the cellar as suspected, a gun to the face was the least the woman deserved.

Without another word, Amy left the house and ran.

Amy was out of breath by the time she reached Main Street. A painful stitch shot from under her rib cage. Rubbing her side, she glanced around. Tethered horses lined the street. Lamps blazed from hotel windows, casting a patchwork of light onto the dirt road. Male voices and laughter wafted from the saloons. A banjo played a Stephen Foster tune to the sound of stomping feet.

“Psst.”

Amy swung around. Tom beckoned her from the alley next to the hotel almost directly across from the Monahan Express Company. Only his dark form was visible, but it was enough to quicken her pulse.

She ducked between the buildings where both Marshal Flood and Tom stood waiting for her. Light from the hotel windows turned the alley into a checkerboard of bright squares.

Tom pulled her to his side, and his nearness was both comforting and disturbing. “I thought you’d never get here,” he said, his voice hushed.

“I had a problem getting away,” she said, trying to maintain a businesslike demeanor. “Everything all set?”

Flood nodded. “We got lucky. Crenshaw worked on the safe and had the combination in his files.” Crenshaw was the town blacksmith.

That
was
lucky, but not too surprising. Blacksmiths were the first people operatives turned to when needing access to a safe or vault. That’s because hinges and locks often required repairs, and blacksmiths were the only ones in town who could fix them. Oddly enough, few safe owners remembered to change combinations after repairs.

“Any sign of Monahan?”

“None,” the marshal replied, sounding peeved. “And the longer I stand here, the more this whole things sounds like a wild goose chase.”

“Did Monahan fall for it?” Tom asked.

“I think so.” She couldn’t be sure. “He gave no indication, but he did leave Miss Lillian’s the moment I finished reading his fortune. I thought he might make a beeline to his office.”

Tom shook his head. “That would have been foolhardy. Too many people in town. Unless I miss my guess, he’ll wait till after midnight, just like you told him.”

She closed her eyes to block Tom from view, but that didn’t make it any easier to concentrate. She could still feel the warmth of his body and hear his every breath. Then there was the intriguing combination of leather and bay rum that played havoc with her senses.

“You okay?” he asked.

She opened her eyes and forced a smile. “I think so.”

Flood made a grunting sound. “This whole thing about Monahan … I’m still having a hard time believing it.”

The marshal’s doubts added to Amy’s anxiety. What if she was wrong about Monahan? About Coral? Had her feelings for Tom compromised her judgment?

She felt Tom bristle by her side. “I see something.”

“It’s too early,” she whispered. “Maybe he decided not to wait.”

She dropped down on hands and knees and peered around a corner. A figure darted along the opposite boardwalk, but even the dark shadows couldn’t hide the checkered suit.

“Oh no,” she groaned. “It’s that private detective.” That’s all they needed.

“What’s he doing here?” Tom whispered.

“That’s what I want to know.” She left her hiding place and ever so quietly ran across the street and up the steps to the boardwalk. She found him paused in front of Harry’s Gun and Bakery Shoppe, his back turned.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Ahhhh!” Had Checkers been touched by a cattle prod, he couldn’t have jumped much higher. He swung around, hand on his chest. “Blimey! You’ve got to stop sneaking up like that. You’ll give me heart failure.”

“Shh. Keep your voice down. Why are you here?”

“Haven’t the foggiest idea. I simply followed you.”

Amy palmed her forehead. She’d been so anxious to get to town she’d not taken the usual precautions to prevent being followed. Now, all she could do was make the best of it.

“Quick.” She grabbed his arm and practically dragged him across the street to the alley.

He greeted Tom and Flood with a questioning glance and straightened his bow tie. “I demand to know what’s going on.”

“What makes you think you’re in a position to make demands?” Flood asked.

“I’m a private investigator, that’s what.” He turned to Tom. “I don’t know why she’s here, but you’re working on a case, right?”

Tom glanced at Amy. “Well—”

“I knew it!” Checkers practically jumped for joy. “And it’s got something to do with Monahan, right?”

“Yes, well, we won’t know till he shows up,” Flood muttered.

“Shh,” Tom cautioned. “Someone’s coming.”

Mr. Checkers sniffled. “I smell perfume.” He held his finger under his nose but sneezed anyway. “Ah-choo!”

“Shh!”

“I can’t help it. Perfume bothers me.”

Amy peered out of the alley, and her mouth dropped open.
Please, God, let me be seeing things
. Only she wasn’t. It was Miss Lillian—no question. Following close behind were Coral, Buttercup, and Polly.

“Psst. Miss Lillian. Over here!” Amy motioned with her hand.

Miss Lillian turned her head in Amy’s direction and waved. “Oh, there you are.”

The four women tottered daintily toward her, lifting their fancy skirts above the ankles. Miss Lillian reached the alley slightly out of breath.

“We didn’t miss anything, did we?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Checkers said, his voice muffled by the handkerchief held to his nose.

Amy pulled Miss Lillian into the alley where she couldn’t be seen from the street. The madam looked momentarily startled but quickly recovered. The others pushed their way into the alley, forcing the marshal and Checkers to move back. The smell of perfume was almost overwhelming.

“What are you all doing here?” Amy demanded.

Coral pulled her shawl around her shoulders. “Miss Lillian told us everything.”

Amy swung around to face the madam, hands at her waist. “You had no right.” Her hushed voice hardly did her anger justice. “You promised.”

“I had to tell them something,” Miss Lillian sniffed and didn’t sound the least bit sorry.

Amy groaned and curled her hands by her sides. She squeezed past the others to reach Tom’s side. “Watch Coral,” she whispered.

“Will do.”

“I want so much for this to go right.” For his sake, for young Davey’s.

He squeezed her hand, but his reassuring smile failed to allay her worries. So far little had gone as planned, but Coral’s presence was particularly worrisome. She could be working with Monahan, and if so, she might try warning him.

Buttercup pushed her way from the rear of the alley to Amy’s side. “I can’t believe you’re a detective.”

Checkers sneezed. “What do you mean a detective?” His gaze shot from Amy to Tom. “Don’t tell me you’re both Pinks.”

“No, only the lady,” Marshal Flood said.

Amy gritted her teeth. “Why don’t we just shout it from the rooftops?”

Polly patted her on the arm. “W–we just w–want to h–help.”

“It’s not like we have anything else to do,” Coral said, “since you chased all our
guests
away.”

Miss Lillian pushed Amy aside to peer out to the street. “Oh dear. Where are they?”

“Who’s they?” Tom asked.

“Why, Mrs. Givings and her friends. They were right behind us.” Miss Lillian stuck her head out of the alley and waved. “Yoo-hoo. Over here.”

“Shh.” Amy pulled her back. “Do you want to wake the dead?”

“Sorry.”

Mrs. Givings, Mrs. Compton, and Mrs. Albright came running. “There you are,” Mrs. Givings said. “We thought we’d lost you.”

“It’s getting rather crowded,” Checkers complained from behind his handkerchief.

“Will you look at this?” Mrs. Givings straightened her feathered hat. “There are enough people here for a revival.”

Flood pushed a feather from her hat away from his face. “Yeah, well don’t get any ideas.”

Mrs. Givings ignored him. “Miss Lillian said you needed our prayers, and that’s what we’re here for.” She craned her neck to address those at the back. “So are we all ready to repent?”

“Now, don’t go getting on your high horse,” Miss Lillian admonished. “We’re not here to repent. We’re working on a case.”

“What do you mean, a case?” Mrs. Givings asked, sounding confused.

“We’re here to nab an outlaw,” Buttercup said and giggled.

Mr. Checkers groaned. “There goes my reward. It’s not bad enough that I lost out on the Jesse James reward, now this!”

Mrs. Albright gave him a soothing pat on the back. “There’s only one reward that counts.”

Amy turned to Mrs. Givings. “I know why they’re here, but what are you ladies doing out at this time of night?”

“One of our church members has a sick little girl,” Mrs. Givings explained, “and we were praying for her.”

Amy’s breath caught.
Georgia?

As if to read her mind Mrs. Givings leaned closer and whispered, “Her daughter’s fever broke and the doctor said she’ll do just fine.”

“That’s good news,” Amy whispered back with relief.

Checkers let out a loud sneeze. Startled, Buttercup flew forward and her chest practically landed in Mrs. Givings’s face.

The churchwoman cried out. “Oh dear. If this gets back to the church, only God knows what it will do to my reputation.”

“Don’t worry,” Miss Lillian said. “You can only lose your reputation once, and after tonight, you won’t have one to worry about.”

“Do you have a gun?” Buttercup asked, pulling out her own.

Mrs. Givings’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened behind her spectacles.

“No guns,” the marshal said. “I mean it. No guns!” He confiscated Miss Lillian’s gun first and demanded that Coral, Polly, and Buttercup give up their weapons, as well.

He turned to Amy. “Pinkerton is no longer involved in the case. That means I’m in charge. Hand over the gun or I’ll put you all in jail.”

Amy gritted her teeth, but she pulled out her gun and slapped it soundly into his open palm. The night just kept getting worse.

“It’s okay,” Tom whispered, his breath warm on her ear. “I’ve got you covered.”