The man came scurrying. “Yes, Mrs. Smith.”
“Show the officers out.” She brushed past him and raced up the stairs, her heart pounding so hard she felt as if it would burst from her throat.
“Henderson.” Hunter looked over from where he studied the crack in the ceiling above his bunk, to the guard who stood holding his jail cell door open. “They want you.”
He stood and followed the guard past other cells, the occupants cursing and spitting as he walked by. He’d been in many jails over the years, but never as a guest. He just needed to hold himself together until Jesse got here. There was never any doubt in his mind that his uncle wouldn’t come. Even though Hunter had been away for years, he always knew Jesse was the rock that kept the family together. In times of need he’d always been there when they were lost and alone.
Like now.
Several times over the years he’d chastised himself for not confiding in his uncle about his father’s death. The time had never seemed right, and no matter how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t get his mouth to form the words.
At the end of the hallway the guard opened a wooden door and waved him in. Police Chief Grafton sat behind a small desk. He had a notebook open in front of him. “Take a seat, Henderson.”
He settled in, not at all enjoying the look of pure joy on the Chief’s face as he shifted a toothpick back and forth in his mouth.
“How well do you know Mrs. Emily Smith?”
If the Chief was looking for a surprised reaction from him, he wasn’t going to get it. He knew they would flush out their relationship. It had only been a matter of time. “We’re friends.”
The Chief consulted his notes. “You met her in Guthrie, Oklahoma Territory, is that right?”
“Yes.” Hunter glanced around the room as the chief wrote in his notebook. All interrogation rooms looked the same. Dull, dismal, and depressing.
“She was a married woman when you met her?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know that.”
The blasted man raised his eyebrows. “She never told you that?”
“No.”
“And you never thought to ask?”
Keep your answers simple. The more you talk, the more trouble you get yourself into.
“No.”
“When did you learn she was married?”
“When I arrived in Galveston.”
This line of questioning was no surprise. A murder investigation was nothing, if not thorough. Except in this case they were only focusing on him. And since he didn’t kill Smith, they were allowing the real murderer to possibly leave the area.
“When you discovered she was married, why didn’t you go back home?”
Hunter raised his eyebrows. “We were friends. Have you never been friends with a married woman?”
“No. And I’ll ask the questions.”
He slumped back in the chair, once more focused on Emily. Hopefully Jeremy was able to keep an eye on her even if he wasn’t able to actually speak with her. She must be swamped with callers, all offering sympathy. He hated that she had no one to turn to. That was the most frustrating part of being in jail. That, and the fact that his hands were tied in trying to conduct his own investigation into Smith’s murder.
“Did you look for a job when you arrived in Galveston?”
“No.”
“How did you expect to live?”
“I have savings.”
“Ah, yes. From when you were a Texas Ranger.”
“That’s right.”
“So you come to Galveston to see your friend, Mrs. Smith. You don’t look for a job, so you didn’t plan to stay?”
“No.”
“This was a vacation?”
“You could say that.”
Grafton pushed his notebook aside and leaned both forearms on the table, fiddling with the pencil. “Why did you tell Officer Mallory that Mr. Smith killed your father in a bank robbery eighteen years ago?”
“Because he did.”
“And you told no one about this?”
“I explained to Mallory that I was only thirteen and was never able to speak of it.”
“So, miraculously, the man married to your friend, Mrs. Smith turned out to be someone who you felt could be charged with murder, and if found guilty would most likely be hanged?”
Since there didn’t seem to be any answer that would help his cause, he remained silent.
The Chief sighed and leaned back. “Look, son. It will go easier for you if you confess.” He lowered his voice in a man-to-man tone. “I understand—you meet a pretty girl, fall for her, then find out she’s married. She works up sympathy from you by telling you tales about her husband beating her. You try to get the man arrested on trumped up charges. When that doesn’t work you kill him.”
“I did not kill Louis Smith.”
“Then who did?”
“Isn’t that your job, Chief? To find the real killer?”
“I said I would ask the questions, and in my opinion I already have.”
The clock on the wall ticked loudly as they stared at each other. Hunter had used the tactic before himself. The first one who spoke, lost. It wasn’t going to be him.
Finally the Chief closed his notebook. “You can return to your cell.”
He stood and moved to the door. As he opened it the Chief said, “By the way, Henderson, it might interest you to know that a forty-four caliber bullet blew away half of Smith’s head.” When Hunter didn’t speak and kept his back to him, he added, “interesting that all the Texas Rangers use a Walker Colt forty-four. Isn’t it?”
Late Wednesday morning Jesse stepped off the train, going from smoky dimness to bright sunlight. He’d never been to Galveston before and was surprised at the size of the town. For some reason he’d always pictured it a sleepy little beach resort. Not so.
The train station bustled with commuters and tourists alike. Both horse drawn carriages and automobile taxis waited in line to sweep the travelers from the station to their destinations. Jesse waved one down and asked to be taken to a hotel closest to the jail. That caused raised eyebrows.
He gazed out the window as they traversed the area. A lot more traffic, both foot and vehicular, congested the area. Galveston was nothing like he’d expected. Why Hunter ended up here, charged with murder, still confounded him. Hopefully it could be straightened out. He knew in his heart there was no way his nephew would commit murder.
Self-defense? Killing in the course of a criminal’s arrest? Yes. But murder that would land him in jail didn’t fit the young man he’d known, and got to know even better during his recent time with him.
“Here you are, sir. Hotel Landers.” The driver got out of the automobile and opened the door for Jesse. He pointed about two blocks down on the other side of the street. “That’s the jail right there.”
“Thank you.” Jesse paid the man, grabbed his suitcase, and then entered the hotel. A brightly lit, warmly decorated lobby greeted him. Within minutes he’d been handed a key and directed to an elevator. He bypassed the contraption and headed for the stairs. If elevators became popular it would not bode well for society. People were getting lazier every day.
Dusty from his journey, Jesse washed up and changed his shirt and jacket. He didn’t want to leave Hunter in jail any longer than necessary. Hopefully he would be able to bond him out and keep him in the room with him. He ran a brush through his hair, and grabbing a notepad and pen, left the room.
There was a distinctive odor to jails no matter the location or population. He’d been directed to a small room where Hunter would be brought to him. Since he was his attorney, he was allowed access to the prisoner even outside of visiting hours.
“Jesse!” Hunter’s face lit up as he strode to where
Jesse stood looking out the window at the dismal scene of overfull garbage cans.
They hugged and then Jesse held Hunter’s shoulders and stared at him. “You look like hell.”
“Well, jail is not the most entertaining of places.”
Jesse gave him an encouraging smile. “Sit down, son. We need to get this sorted out.” He pulled out his notebook and pen. “Start at the beginning and don’t leave out any details.”
It took well over an hour, but finally Jesse laid his pen down and stretched. “That’s one hell of a story. You got yourself in pretty deep.”
“I know.”
Jesse rotated his stiff shoulders. “Why did you never tell anyone about witnessing your father’s murder?”
“I wanted to. In fact if I were to have told anyone, it would have been you. But the time never seemed right. You and Tori were trying so hard to keep your own relationship going, and then there always seemed to be others around.” He shrugged. “I guess I was arrogant enough to think I would find Smith, drag him off to jail, and see justice done.”
“The first thing we have to do is get you out of here.”
“No, Jesse, the first thing you need to do is see Emily. She must be a wreck, and at the same time trying to deal with the police questioning her, the funeral, the financial problems I’m sure Smith left her with. She needs help.”
“I’ll do both. We’ll apply for bail, and if it’s denied I have a few judges in Oklahoma Territory that will vouch for you being released into my custody. While that is in motion, I’ll see Emily and assure her she’s not alone.”
Hunter took a deep breath and hung his head, his shoulders slumping. “Thank you. That means more to me right now than getting out of jail.”
Jesse stood and rested his hand on Hunter’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “We’ll do both.” He knocked on the door as a signal he was finished. The guard opened the door and escorted Hunter back to his cell.
A couple of hours later Jesse stepped out of a taxi and gave a low whistle as he studied the Smith mansion. The place must have had more than twenty rooms. Based on what Hunter had told him, misbegotten money had paid for the place.
He rang the doorbell and waited a very short time before the door was opened by a middle-aged woman who gave the appearance of a cook. She was cheerful looking, with rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes. She patted her hair as she looked him up and down. “Yes?”
“I would like to see Mrs. Smith.”
“If you’re one of those reporters, you can just turn yourself around and go back down those steps. Mrs. Smith is resting and will not speak to any members of the press.”
Jesse took out his business card and handed it to the woman. “I’m not with the press. Please give Mrs. Smith my card. I’m sure she will see me.”
Even though she appeared skeptical, the woman opened the door wider and allowed him to enter. “Stay right here.” She pointed at his chest like a recalcitrant child.
He grinned at her protectiveness and nodded to assure her he was not about to make off with the family silver in her absence. While he waited, he looked around. Mr. Smith had certainly lived high on the hog. The floor under his feet was marble, with thick carpet lining the parlor to his right and the dining room to his left. The staircase was enormous; ‘sweeping’ was the word that came to mind.
A movement caught his eye, and he watched as a young, very frightened looking woman came down the stairs. Dark circles under her eyes gave her a haunted appearance. Her blonde hair had been put up in a hurry, with locks falling around her forehead and temples. She clutched a handkerchief in her hand that appeared to have been given a lot of use.
She took furtive steps toward him. “Are you really Hunter’s Uncle Jesse?”
“Yes, I am. You are Mrs. Smith?”
She took one deep shaky breath and nodded her head. Then she flew into his arms, sobbing as if her heart were breaking.
Chapter 18
“Is there somewhere we can go that’s a bit more private?” Jesse patted the young woman on her back, somewhat uncomfortable with servants walking around.
She pulled back and wiped her nose. “Yes. I’m sorry. You must think me a dolt. It’s just that . . .”
“I understand.”
She was a pretty little thing, Hunter’s Emily. In some ways she reminded him of Michael’s Heidi. Her big blue eyes and blonde curls gave her a delicate, vulnerable look. Her reddened nose from crying didn’t help. Based on what Hunter had told him, Jesse would very much like to beat Mr. Smith senseless for putting his fists to this woman if the man weren’t already dead.
“Mrs. Granger, will you please send in refreshments?” Mrs. Smith gave her instructions to the woman who had answered the door as she led Jesse to a very pleasant room. By the decorations and furniture, it must have been her sitting room. He eyed the elegant, but fragile furniture, and chose the settee near the fireplace.
“How is Hunter? I assume you’ve seen him?”
“Yes. I just left the jailhouse.” He stopped when she began to cry again.
She took a deep breath and attempted a smile. “I am sorry, please go on.”
“Needless to say he is quite anxious about you, and how you are dealing with all of this.”
“I would be handling it much better if Hunter hadn’t been accused of Louis’s murder.” She hopped up from her chair and paced. “That’s the worst part. Then there’s the funeral Friday. I finally had to bar the door to visitors who were expecting me to discuss the horror of what’s happened, when my main concern is Hunter.” Taking her seat again, she added, “Can you imagine the scandal if anyone knew my main concern was not my husband’s death, but how his accused murderer is being treated? And—”
She stopped speaking when the door to the sitting room opened and Mrs. Granger entered with a tray of coffee, tea, and some type of sandwiches and pastries. She set the tray down and Emily thanked her with a smile. The woman cast curious glances at him, but eventually left the room.
“I can’t trust any of the staff.” Emily stood and moved to the tray. “Coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please. No sugar, a bit of cream.”
She fixed his coffee, then placed a few small sandwiches and two pastries on a plate and brought them to him.
“Why do you say you can’t trust the staff?”
Mrs. Smith fixed a cup of tea, then took the chair across from him. “How much has Hunter told you about me?”
“Enough that I know he felt you were in danger here and wanted to get you away from Galveston. He gave me some details. I’m an attorney, I didn’t need to hear much more to know what your situation was.”
She colored slightly, which he’d found to be a common response from a woman who was being abused. For some reason they were embarrassed by it. Something he never understood, but acknowledged.
“Louis made sure the staff was loyal to him. Including my own maid. Now that he’s dead they are all probably expecting to be fired. I don’t want to deny anyone their livelihood, but I am extremely uncomfortable with the way things are now. I feel as though with Louis dead they’re spying on me for the police.”
“Has Louis’s attorney contacted you yet? I assume there is a will that needs to be probated?”
“I’m sure there is. That is another issue I need to deal with.”
Jesse put his plate on the small table in front of the settee. “I came here today to let you know that I will be doing my best to get this resolved as quickly as possible. As the attorney of record for the man accused of your husband’s murder I cannot get involved with you in any legal way. But anything else I can help you with, just let me know.” He reached into his pocket and took out a notebook. He scrawled his hotel information on a blank sheet and tore it off.
“Here. This is where I’m
staying. I hope to get Hunter out on bail by tomorrow. I have a couple of judicial contacts in Oklahoma who will vouch for me, so hopefully the local authorities will release him into my custody.”
She took the paper. “Can I see him?”
“That will be tricky. I want to see you dragged into this as little as possible. I’m visiting with the police department later today to get as much information from them as I can, and then I’ll see the District Attorney. The fact that they are aware of a relationship between you and Hunter could bode serious problems for you.”
Her face paled. “What do you mean?”
“There have been cases where a married woman and her lover conspired to have the husband killed.”
She stood, her pale face now bright red. “We are not lovers! Despite what my husband was, and how he treated me, I am not an adulteress.”
Jesse rose and took her ice cold hands into his. “That is none of my business, but I just want you to know the possibility exists. Just be careful.”
She nodded, twisting the handkerchief again. “I will see you out.”
As they strolled toward the front door, Jesse said, “I would like to help you more, but once the newspapers get wind of who I am, it wouldn’t do well for us to be seen together, either. Once I establish what my defense will be—if it goes to trial, that is—I will most likely want to call you as a witness. But until then . . .”
“I understand.”
“I can have my wife travel down here to stay with you. I have plenty of other family in Guthrie to look after our children.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to disrupt your life. I’ll manage.”
Anyplace But Here (Oklahoma Lovers Series Book 5) Page 17