She gave him a disarming smile until his gaze shifted to David. Again, the man’s quick scan took in David's expensive shoes and fine hand-tailored shirt. Would he notice the doctor's soft hands as she had? Yes, she saw the man's eyes dart to David's hand as he shook it.
Jessie seemed unusually excited by the man's presence. A moment later, introductions over, Jessie revealed the reason for her interest. "You'll never guess why Mr. Cummings is here!" She stopped momentarily looking to the man before asking, "It is all right to say, isn't it? I mean, it isn't a secret, is it? Or are you, as they say, undercover?"
Mr. Cummings eyebrows knit together for an instant, then relaxed the next. "Well, I suppose it's all right to say that I'm investigating a crime."
Jessie couldn't contain herself with the news. "He's a Pinkerton agent!" At that awful moment, Jessie turned directly to Maddie. "Isn't that wonderful, Maddie?" Then she did the next worst thing Maddie could imagine as she turned back to the agent and announced, "Maddie could be an agent. She knows a lot about criminals and con men. Maybe she could teach you a few tricks. Why, she's ever so clever!"
A chill coursed down her spine as she watched Mr. Cummings' bemused expression alter. Her mouth went dry. With keen interest written across his flat face, he turned his attention from Jessie to Maddie. If ever there had been a time, she wished she could become invisible, it was now.
Chapter 25
"Don't worry about it, Maddie," Lena said as she placed the last shard of glass into the pail Maddie was holding, with knuckles as white as her face. Lena touched Maddie's hand with a look of concern drawing her brows together. "Are you all right?" she whispered.
"I'm fine. I'll just take this outside. I'm really sorry about breaking your vase."
"It really wasn't that valuable," Lena reassured her for the fourth time.
Closing the door to the kitchen as softly as she could, Maddie rested her head on its frame, taking deep breaths. Only now did her hands begin to tremble.
If she'd been clever about such things, she'd have intentionally knocked the vase from the table to distract attention from Jessie's description of her talents. However, she hadn't been clever at all, only clumsy and frightened. The result was the same either way, allowing her to leave the room.
The agent had to be looking for her. Surely nothing in this town could bring a Pinkerton agent on an investigation. Her father's crime had to be the reason he was here. It couldn't be a coincidence that he'd chosen to stay here in the same house.
She gathered in her fearful ruminations and carried the pail outside to the trash can at the back of the house. Standing in the dark cloak of night, she remembered her father's warning words again. Take this and disappear. She shifted her gaze from the night sky to the house, seeing in her mind's eye through the walls into the attic room where the satchel was hiding.
Collect yourself, Maddie! Remember that you aren’t the criminal. Use your head. Be calm. Her breathing steadied, but the confidence she’d held weeks before seemed to have abandoned her. Nothing had changed. She still had her wits and she could still try to explain her involvement. Why did she have to disappear?
Soft laughter drifted through the parlor's open window. Jessie's merry laugh rose above the others. Maddie glanced up to her own window under the eaves. She'd left the light on, the partially written story lying on her desk. Havoc was probably asleep on the last page she’d written. Her throat felt tight. She swallowed hard, stomach churning.
"Maddie, are you ill?"
She spun to see David standing at the open back door, warm light spilling out about him. Maddie drew the back of her hand across her cheek. She lied, "No. It's just been a long day. I think I'm tired." She heard the husky sound of her voice, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
He took a few steps closer. Even in the dim light, she could see the doctor's professional look of concern. "Your face went very pale quite suddenly. I was worried. . ."
"You shouldn't be worried for me. I just need to get some rest." She lifted the pail and started back to the house, turning sideways to step around him.
David grabbed her hand, bringing her to a halt. "Maddie. . .if I can help."
She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. What a fool she’d been to allow herself . . . "Thank you. I'm fine." She pulled her hand free, regretting in an instant the loss of his warmth. But this was her battle, not his. She called back, her voice strange to her ears, thin, "Good night."
She sat on the edge of her bed, temples throbbing. Think, Maddie! Tomorrow, she’d ask to speak privately with the agent. She’d give him the money, explain all that she knew and then leave town. To face her friends after this came to light, after they knew what her father had done and how she’d lied to them—impossible. She’d disappear, just as her father had said she should.
On her hands and knees, Maddie stretched under the bed for the old carpet bag she'd found in the attic. She pulled it out and lay the bag on the bed, glaring down at it for long angry moments. There'd be no use spilling any tears over this. She'd been foolish to think she could stay in the first place.
She pulled from the drawer the few items of clothing that she'd purchased since arriving in Ketchum. She scarcely took time to pack them properly, jamming them into the bag instead. If she hadn't heard Lena's voice outside her door calling down to Evan to make sure the cat was in for the night, she'd have been caught.
A light rap at the door was followed by Lena's soft voice asking, "May I come in, Maddie?"
"Yes, of course." Maddie, sitting at her desk, the bag shoved back under the bed, greeted her with a shaky smile.
Lena carried her cure-all cup of warm ginger tea in a floral teacup. "I was hoping you were still awake. I hope you don't mind my coming to check in on you. You really did look quite ill."
Maddie would normally have offered her a chair, but this was not the time to exchange pleasantries. Those times were over. Everything here was over. The same tight constriction of her throat made it difficult to speak. "Thank you. I'm just a little tired."
"Perhaps that's my fault. I'm very grateful for your help today. I think Mr. Cummings liked his room."
Maddie managed a tone lighter than she felt. "That's good."
"He really is a very interesting man. And you know he confirmed what you said about female agents. Evan asked him shortly after you left."
Maddie simply nodded, her smile slipping. How many more clues would the agent collect from her friends? Careless words would be her complete undoing.
Lena smoothed the quilt where Maddie had been packing, a pair of stockings lay in a crumpled heap there. "And did you know? He came here very specifically to speak with our Dr. Reynolds. It seems the man he attended to in Shoshone was involved in this crime he's investigating."
The teacup clattered against the saucer. Maddie turned her face away to the window to regain her composure, biting the inside of her lip until she tasted blood.
Lena chuckled softly. "Oh my, I think Jessie is rubbing off on me. I'm jabbering away just like her. I think I must be tired."
Maddie squeezed her eyes tight for a minute then turned back to face Lena. "Sleep well, Lena."
"Thank you dear." Lena cocked her head, staring intently at Maddie. A moment later, she bent to kiss Maddie on the top of her head. "I'm so glad you came to us. You must know that you and David looked so sweet tonight, dancing in the moonlight. I’m delighted you’ve put aside your differences." She hesitated at the door as though waiting for something from Maddie. Maddie had nothing to give back. “Get some rest, Maddie." The door closed softly behind her.
Maddie threw herself onto the bed. All the agony that had overwhelmed her once before returned with all its dark foreboding. She clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling the sobs that threatened to reveal her. Now she must add to her shame the deception she'd employed to win these friends. This life she'd imagined she could live was no more than a fantasy. In the end, she was her father's daughter and his shadow stretched long
over her. She pounded her fist into the quilt, a silent ineffective protest of all the injustice in her private, lonely world.
Only for a moment more did she indulge in self-pity. She knew the train schedule. She knew the possible destinations. She had the money set aside for tickets. The tainted money in the attic was never hers and tomorrow she’d be rid of it. By evening she’d be on the train heading south and away from Ketchum. Reality awaited her elsewhere.
Packing the last of her personal items, she tucked the bag under the bed again. As she surveyed the room for anything she'd forgotten, her eyes fell on the papers stacked upon the desk. A quiet, bitter laugh escaped her lips as she thumbed through her treasured pages of fiction.
"And you thought I hadn't the experience to write about crime, Dr. Reynolds. Now you'll know just how wrong you were." Her lip curled at the irony. Angry tears sprang to her eyes.
The writer in her imagined the scene that would follow the revelations for her friends, especially the idealistic and very honest David Reynolds. Lena and Jessie would shed a few tears for the betrayal of their friendship. Bart and Evan might even joke about how she really did have first-hand experience with the criminal mind. David . . . David would . . . David would despise her for her deceptions.
With trembling hands, she scooped up the pages, clutching the wrinkled sheets of paper to her breast. They should be destroyed, but how? Frustrated, she dropped them onto the bed, glaring at them as though she might be able to ignite them with red hot anger. They did not ignite, but simply remained undisturbed, as though mocking her.
The door to the room across the hall opened and closed. Maddie froze, anger draining as fear surged back in to take its place. After long moments of pressing her ear to the door, she opened it, peering out into the hall. Downstairs the hall was dark, suggesting everyone had retired for the evening.
She slipped quietly into the hallway between the two rooms and closed the door behind her. A cough from behind the door stopped her. Heart pounding, she waited for indeterminate minutes, sweat trickling down her back. The light seeping out from beneath the door extinguished at last.
Standing in the darkened hallway, she realized she’d need to return to her room. Taking the unlit oil lamp from beside her bed, she stepped back into the hall again. Her fingers guided her along the paneling to the attic door. Only when she closed the door behind her, did she dare to light the lamp.
As she climbed the stairs to the upper room, shadows darted about her, following her every step. Bart's relocation of furniture had blocked the path to the back of the attic, forcing her to climb over boxes and chairs. Her skirt caught more than once, dragging items across the floor in what to her ears sounded like thunder. Each time she froze, waiting for the door below to fling open, exposing her.
After what seemed like hours navigating the room, she located the familiar trunk just where she'd seen it before. Bart's efforts to move furniture had apparently not involved rearranging anything already stored here. Relieved, she let out a breath she'd been holding for the last few seconds. Placing the oil lamp on a stack of small boxes, she pulled the trunk farther from the wall. It made a horrific scraping across the floor. She stopped, holding her breath again. Maybe she could reach behind it instead of moving it.
Stretching her hand into the dark corner beneath the eaves, she felt for the leather. A soft layer of dust greeted her fingers but not the satchel. She pulled her arm back, and carefully inched the trunk away from the wall. With each scrape on the floorboards she froze, certain Cummings would find her. For him to find her now before she could explain herself would make her appear guilty. She had to take it to him voluntarily.
The eaves slanted sharply down to the floor, creating a black looming space. She squinted into the dark, then stood to retrieve the lamp. The light flooding the space revealed dust, the withered skeleton of a mouse but nothing more. The satchel was gone.
Chapter 26
An hour more of searching yielded nothing and Maddie had returned to her room exhausted with one unanswered question bubbling to the top of her mind. Who had taken the satchel?
As the first rooster crowed in the neighbor's yard, Maddie fell into a restless sleep. She awoke a few hours later to someone tapping at her door. A deep voice called out, "Lena sent me to tell you breakfast is being served." Evan must have been waiting for a few more minutes as she heard his boots scuffling nervously on the other side of the door. "Maddie?"
"I'll be right down." Maddie sat up, groggy and disoriented. Looking down at her rumpled skirt, she remembered having collapsed onto the bed. The despair that had swept over her came flooding back. She brought her hands to cover her face. Just as quickly, she pulled them away, frowning down at the filth coating her fingers. Washing her hands at the basin gave her something to occupy her mind, something routine, something normal. She scrubbed them until they burned.
She looked up at her reflection in the wall mirror. The face looking back at her, scarcely familiar, dark circles shadowing young eyes made her appear more than a mere twenty years old. Pulling back her shoulders, she deftly brushed her hair back into a respectable upswept mass of curls. Time to put on the false face and honest character of Maddie for a little while longer. More lies to tell while she figured out where to go from here. Of one thing she felt certain; Cummings would never believe her. What other choice did she have but to run?
Only Lena, Jessie and David remained in the dining room when Maddie finally pulled up a chair.
Jessie passed Maddie a plate of toast. "Maddie, did you know that Mr. Cummings interviewed David this morning? We can't seem to get much out of him about what he was asked. I suppose it's because Mr. Cummings is investigating. It’s so thrilling!"
David sat back from the table and ran a hand down his face, a gesture more familiar to Ely. "I'm not trying to be secretive, Jessie. It's just that I had very little to say that could help in his investigation. He already knew about the man's death and even how he died."
"Then why, for Land's Sake, did he come all this way to talk with you?" Jessie pressed.
Lena lay her hand lightly on Jessie's. "Maybe we really shouldn't inquire, Jessie. It really isn't our business."
"But it's such a perfect opportunity for Maddie to learn more about criminal investigations. I mean he is right here under our own roof. It would help you write your stories, wouldn't it?"
Maddie stole a glance at David. He was staring at his coffee cup as though it were tea instead, filled with leaves which he could interpret with sufficient concentration. A muscle worked in his jaw. He looked up and caught her eye. What she saw chilled her heart, so unlike the softness of his gaze as he'd danced with her. Was that just last night? She looked away as though repelled by some force of nature.
Maddie's shoulders sagged. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe normally. Running suddenly appealed to her more than fighting to stay. She started to push back her chair when Bart's voice stopped her.
"Look what I found in the trash just now." He dropped the crumpled pages of Maddie's manuscript on the table.
Jessie wailed, "Oh, you surely didn't mean to throw them out!"
The pile of papers slipped, most of them fluttering onto the floor. Maddie scrambled to retrieve them. Lena held one in her hands.
Looking up, Lena remained motionless except that her lips had fallen open. "Maddie, this is stunning. You've captured Jessie better than any painter could." Lena smoothed the wrinkles from the page, then read aloud.
More than anything else, Jessie's laugh defined her. One learns to discern her moods by the timber of it. Whether nervous, or amused, or deliriously happy, she expresses herself in laughter. Her face, yet unmarked by years, reflects childlike delight as though every product of creation that crosses her path is worthy of thoughtful, if not, humorous examination.
Through her example, I've learned to look afresh at the world around me, seeing wonder in the smallest details of creation, whether diamond dewdrops decor
ating a spider web or a rainbow caught in a spray of water. She has taught me to really look and more than look, value what I'm seeing.
Lena looked into Maddie’s eyes, admiration clearly written in her own. "This is so different from what you read to us a few weeks ago. Why it hardly sounds like the same author!"
Maddie looked up as she heard David's chair scrape the floor. "Evocative writing, Maddie. It seems you have many talents." His voice lacked its usual warmth.
She heard the compliment but felt she understood the truth of his statement, hearing the cool disappointment that colored it.
Lena began to organize the stack of papers. "Maybe we should give these pages back to Maddie. She may prefer to read them to us herself when she's ready."
David strode from the room without another word. Maddie watched him go, her emotions raw from her own revelations, a dull ache in her chest.
As urgent as it'd become to leave, she would have to delay until the morning train. To avoid further attention, she resolved to go through her day as normally as possible. She was grateful to learn from Mr. Wilkinson that his wife would not be coming into the shop today.
The day progressed in slow motion as though some force held the hands of the clock against its will. When at last the hour struck three o'clock, Maddie hung up her apron. Before leaving, she took one last look about the cozy shop. Tables arrayed with charming books of housewifery and others displaying the latest poetry books from British and American authors bore witness to the modest mark she'd left on Ketchum literary society. A ghostly hint of a smile touched her face for a brief moment.
She strolled past the cafe she and David had come to know so well. The waitress with the saucy wink waved to her from the window as she passed. She waved back. Reluctant steps led her back to the house. How she dreaded this last night with them. At the corner, with the house in sight, she turned to the trail leading to the river. Aspen now wore a full coat of pale green, forming a lacy canopy, their branches creating a spider web of shadows across the footpath.
Redeeming Lies Page 18