“We kept you away from your duties for far too long, my dear,” Father Mathew said, patting her on the shoulder.
“Oh, it is quite all right, Father. I want to do everything in my power to help Aunt Elsa.”
Robert believed her. Geraldine escorted the two men outside. “You can come to me and talk if you feel burdened in any way, you know that,” Father Mathew insisted, and she nodded in gratitude.
She turned toward Robert. “Sheriff, feel free to come and visit any time. As I said, I want to help, so does my mother.”
He was saddened she suddenly spoke to him so formally; he missed that girl from the market. Perhaps it was all in his head, they were conversing about a serious matter, after all.
“Noted,” and then something occurred to him. “Father, since it looks like I will be staying here for a while, as the commute from Fort Mohave every day would be highly unreasonable and impractical, do you know someone who would be so kind as to rent me a room for the time being?”
“A room?” Father Mathew frowned. “You are more than welcome to stay with me as my guest indefinitely,” he offered generously.
“I do not want to trouble you.”
Father Mathew was a rather aged man who certainly had his own daily rhythm and liked his peace; Robert would most definitely cause a disturbance in his life since he was known to return home at odd hours or stay up all night going over facts about current cases. So, he needed to stay someplace else, where he wouldn't be a nuisance.
It was clear Father Mathew wanted to say something to that when Geraldine interjected. “You could stay here.” Surprising both men with her short sentence.
“Here?” He repeated like a parrot as his mind started to think about that idea.
“Yes, you would be a lot closer to the town and the ranch.”
She has a good point. Robert liked her proposal very much. More than he cared to admit actually.
“That is very generous of you,” Father Mathew complimented as Robert was about to do the same.
“Are you sure? I do not want to inconvenience you.”
“We could use a few extra coins,” she explained, while that small smile reappeared. That girl he met at the market was still there; he was elated.
“You are adamant in your quest to squeeze as much money out of me as possible.”
“That is called good business.”
Even Father Mathew chuckled at that.
Cheeky girl. “I accept, then.”
“Excellent. I will have a room ready for you in a quarter of an hour.”
“Perfect.”
Father Mathew coughed. “All right then, I bid you a good day.”
“I will come with you, Father,” Robert replied to him before speaking to Geraldine. “I will be back this evening.”
“Very well.”
They parted.
He could not believe this happened. Robert allowed himself a small smile when he was certain no one was looking.
Once they reached the intersection, Robert thanked the father for all his help before turning toward Elsa's ranch while the priest returned to Oatman.
Tying Duke down next to the water trough, Robert checked the horses to see if they were all right, only to remember he failed to ask Geraldine if she was the one that fed them. Satisfied with their state, he went inside the house.
Knowing the layout now, he went upstairs to write down all the medications Elsa took for her sickness to show Dr. Carmichael. Some he recognized, others looked completely foreign to him, so he decided to simply pack them all and send them to the doctor for a more thorough examination. The only thing that he did write down was the name of the apothecary that made them and the physician's name that prescribed them.
Since he was already there, after he finished with his primary task he decided to take one more look around her study. Robert wanted to make sure he did not miss anything among those documents. Maybe they were mistaken, and she did, in fact, had some living relatives. That would be a good motive for murder, he mused.
Robert sat at her writing table and started sifting through all the papers, legal documents, and bills that were scattered all over it. She was a savvy businesswoman, he realized after some time, who accumulated a substantial amount of wealth over time.
Next, he checked the drawers. He found more of the same inside of them. Time flew by as he read, and his back and eyes started to ache from all that sitting around. He found nothing concrete that could be labeled as evidence, fortuitously he did learn a great deal about Elsa Potter; which was always a good thing.
Robert was about to quit when he spotted an additional drawer just under the top of the table. That place some called the skirt of the table, and the only reason he spotted it in the first place since it was well hidden, was because the light, coming from the window shone over a tiny keyhole. He tried opening it; it was locked.
Where would I hide the key if I was Elsa? He asked himself. The first thing that came into his mind was that she hid the key inside one of her trophies, since they were the most important things to her, apart from her horses. She would want it close by, as well, he thought next abandoning his theory. Robert started looking about the study. The keyhole was really small so the key could literally be hidden inside anything. He could always try and open it by force. Robert hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.
While he looked, his eyes landed on a small framed oil painting that hung behind the desk. On it was a young girl petting a black stallion, so it was safe to assume that was Elsa with her favorite. It was also the only personal thing inside the room. Robert took it off the wall, and true enough, the key was lodged in the back of it.
He returned the painting, moved back to the desk and tried the key in the keyhole. It fitted perfectly. Robert opened the drawer and then smiled. “Now this is something,” he murmured to himself.
Chapter Thirteen
Inside the hidden drawer were letters, carefully bound together with a red ribbon which could only indicate they were special for Elsa Potter. Delicately untying them, Robert started to sift through them. They varied in size, date, and were not all written in the same handwriting, so it was safe to assume they were not written by the same hand. Signatures at the end confirmed as much. They did have one thing in common. They were all love letters written by men and sent to Elsa.
Elsa Potter perhaps remained unwed, however, she was not without a man in her life. Or several men as it turned out, not that Robert was judging the woman or anything. He was sure, based on personal experiences, that her life could get pretty lonely at times, especially living isolated on this ranch, so it was only natural she sought company or connections with other people.
Robert decided to go through all of them. When he was younger, he would have found such behavior a severe privacy violation. Over time, he managed to get used to it repeating a simple fact to himself. He was only doing that so he could help the person he was investigating in the first place. Knowledge is power, after all, and he knew he could learn a great deal reading these letters.
Unrequited love could be a good motive for murder. He already knew the murder was personal in some way to the killer. The way Elsa Potter died suggested as much. Overall it was safe to say you could not get more personal than with the matters of the heart. People were prepared to do all kinds of stupid things in the name of love, not to mention crazy, dangerous and even horrific things.
Still, he did not want to read them here, in her study, that would feel wrong to him. He needed a neutral ground so he could remain impartial and not get too attached.
Robert tied all the letters back, not quite as it was before since he was a bit awkward with the ribbon, before putting them inside his pocket. Since he did not find any more secret compartments or hidden mementos in the study, Robert decided to stop here, for the day.
Once he collected all the medication, he exited the house and when he reached Duke, he carefully placed all the evidence inside his saddle pockets. He plan
ned to return to Oatman. For the briefest of moments, his will wavered. Would it be so wrong to check up on the neighbors? Yes, it would, he snapped at himself. Focus on your task at hand. And that somewhat helped, since he used his authoritative sheriff's voice.
Maybe I could buy myself a new shirt while I'm in town, he daydreamed, jumping on Duke. For some reason, he wanted to look presentable returning to the Laurels' farm, and not be covered in dirt and dried egg yolks any more. He wanted to look more like the Sheriff and less like the drunken fools that were locked inside his cells. Robert did not want to smell like one of them either.
On the other hand, if he continued to parade about, dressed like this, in front of Geraldine he could most definitely tease her some more. Choices, choices...
Ridding into Oatman, his first stop was the post office. He couldn't predict when Dr. Carmichael would be available to return here, so he decided to simply send everything he found about Miss Elsa's illness back to Fort Mohave. The clerk smiled when he saw him returning so soon.“I know, twice in one day, one more time and I will get a biscuit,” he joked, and the clerk laughed so hard some of the water he was in the process of drinking came out of his nose.
Robert did not know he was that funny. He appreciated a welcoming audience. “I need to send these,” he put the vials on the counter.
“Certainly, Sheriff,” the clerk sobered up, immediately.
After he was reassured the package, to which he added a small note from him to his friend, would be delivered first thing in the morning, Robert thanked the clerk and left. He liked the youngster working there. He laughed at his jokes.
There were still a few vendors on the market, and he went straight to them. “Good day,” he greeted them all.
“Good day, Sheriff,” the sellers greeted him back.
It was a bit strange seeing these people while they looked at him with mixed feelings. On one hand, he was the law and authority around these parts, someone they learned they needed to respect from an early age, whom they turned to in their times of need and that lesson was etched on their faces. They must have seen the incident that occurred earlier that day with Miss Geraldine, since quite a few of them tried really hard not to actually laugh in his face while their eyes shone with amusement.
He couldn't actually blame them on that account, fully knowing he would act in the same manner if the situation was by chance reversed. Still, he appreciated their effort to remain straight-faced and not laugh. It showed how deeply they respected him, and he was grateful from the bottom of his heart. “Do you mind if I ask you a few quick questions?” he asked the small gathering, deciding to act as if nothing was amiss, as if it was quite normal to see the Sheriff looking like a common vagrant.
Maybe in Texas, it is, he joked and almost chuckled at his own jest.
They all nodded in agreement, their curiosity rising about what he was going to ask them. The word about Elsa's demise completely spread by now, so they could not be too surprised, but they seemed to be.
Robert started asking them questions about Miss Geraldine. She said she was there, selling eggs on the market at the time of the murder, and he wanted to make sure she was speaking the truth. As it turned out, people of Oatman were quite chatty. Robert learned a great deal about Miss Geraldine, even the fact she was quite the imp growing up. That did not come as a shock for some reason.
Robert was told she was there every day, rain or shine, selling her eggs and various other products from her farm. Naturally, he was the most interested in the day of the murder, so he asked about the previous day as well. The vendors all agreed she departed slightly before noon.
“She did not go home,” one woman corrected her colleagues. “I saw her turn around to go that way,” she pointed. The woman was correct, that was not the way toward her farm.
“Where did she go, then?” He asked, hopeful.
The woman shrugged. “I don't know. A lot of houses are built there.”
Maybe she was visiting someone. Either way, that did not give her time to go to the Black Tail Ranch, kill Elsa Potter and escape before her mother went there and discovered the dead body.
When he asked them about Elsa Potter, they weren't that enthusiastic to speak anymore. The information they provided was scarce; she owned the only saloon in town, which was frowned upon since she used to be a showgirl as well. She barely visited the town and never went to church on Sunday. The Black Tail Ranch was her entire life.
Robert concluded as much on his own.
After he thanked the vendors for their help, he spoke to the baker's boy, since the shop was on the market, and despite the fact he eyed Robert suspiciously the whole time they conversed, he answered all the questions without holding back. Geraldine Laurel's name was cleared, she didn't commit this crime, not that he doubted it wouldn't be. It was highly unlikely Stephanie Laurel was his killer. Her reactions were far too genuine. That woman was completely distraught her friend died.
That also meant he was in desperate need of a fresh batch of suspects, so he had to go through these letters as soon as possible. Maybe they would shed some light onto who was visiting her beside the Laurel women. Geraldine swore they were the only ones. The letters inside his pocket proved Elsa had secrets. Just like the rest of us.
Robert thought about all that returning to Duke when he ran into Father Mathew who greeted him with a smile. “Sheriff.”
Father Mathew was clearly finding it amusing to see him again after such a short period of time. Robert wasn't that surprised, Oatman was a rather small town after all.
“Father,” he greeted the old man back.
“Are you keeping yourself busy?”
“I try to.”
“Could I have a quick word with you, I promise I won't keep you long,” Father Mathew said apologetically.
“Certainly, Father.”
“Do you know when we will be able to bury Elsa Potter? As you know, she had no kin, so I took it upon myself to arrange everything.”
“That is quite generous of you, Father,” Robert replied honestly.
“Well, I do what I can. So?”
Robert shrugged. “I cannot answer that at the moment since the doctor has a say in that as well.”
Father Mathew deeply sighed. “Dr. Carmichael said he collected everything he needs and that we can proceed with the funeral.”
“There you go, Father.”
“I simply wanted to make sure if that is all right with you, as well.”
“Certainly.”
“It will be a small service, so if you are able, do come by.”
“Of course, Father.”
They said their goodbyes, again, shortly after that. Picking up Duke, Robert decided it was time to return to the Laurel farm, feeling more excited about that fact than he cared to admit, even to himself.
That is just a place of rest, for now, nothing more, he told himself sternly, yet he was not that convincing.
* * *
Geraldine hummed, happily, to herself as she prepared the spare room for the sheriff. Nobody used this room for years, perhaps even longer, so it needed a good airing and some dusting to make it livable again. She still could not believe he was staying with her and mother.
Sheriff. That sounded too formal to Geraldine, even inside her head, but that was who he was. Besides, it wasn't as if she could call him Robert, they were not that familiar, or Mr. Bradway, which sounded quite ridiculous to her.
Sheriff it is, then.
Despite her teasing words that she offered him lodging merely out of necessity, Geraldine had other motives as well. Having the Sheriff around meant she could keep track on his progress regarding Elsa's case, not that she planned on snooping or spying on him.
Geraldine would be honest about her interests regarding his investigation. She wasn't quite sure how much, if at all, he would allow her to actually help. Geraldine would not give up. Luckily, she could be very persuasive when she needed to. Jeremy could provide testament to that, ha
ving to endure all kinds of punishments growing up covering her mischief.
There was the third reason, of course, however it was too silly to even contemplate it. He intrigues me, she banished that thought immediately.
Furthermore, Geraldine was far too busy to even think about romance, let alone act on something she may or may not feel. I barely know the man! She just met him, and he was using the empty bedroom strictly for business. That put a stop on her wandering thoughts, at least for a heartbeat or two.
There was just one, slight matter, she didn't give much thought, and perhaps she should have. Mother. She didn't ask her if it was all right to rent a room to the Sheriff. It was too late now, since she already gave her word to him. The only thing she could do was to inform her mother of her dealings.
The Sheriff's Rebellious Bride (Historical Western Romance) Page 13