The place was a disaster. Empty liquor bottles lay on the floor, the rumpled bed littered with papers. Jesse took it all in, as well as the man standing before him, who looked worse than the room. Bloodshot eyes, a couple day’s growth of beard, stains on his shirt and pants. The room reeked of alcohol and tobacco smoke.
But the most damaging item in the room was a hypodermic needle lying on the dresser, next to a sack with Galveston Pharmacy stenciled on it.
“What have you been doing to yourself?” Jesse growled.
“Nothing. I just took a couple days off. I’ve been conducting interviews and checking facts. With Henderson in jail, I thought I’d relax for a day before I resumed my investigation.”
Seeing nowhere to sit that wasn’t covered with clothes, papers and garbage, Jesse remained standing, his stomach churning at the stench not only in the room but coming from the man himself. “Get yourself cleaned up. I’ll meet you at the café down the street on the left.” He strode to the door and flung it open. “Make it fast.”
He stormed down the stairs, anger oozing from every pore. This was the man Hunter had depended on for help in the investigation into Smith’s shady business practices? The Ranger was a drug addict and an alcoholic. He wasn’t even sure he could trust any information Steele came up with.
At least Hunter was out of jail and into his custody. Jesse’s biggest problem would be keeping his nephew busy enough that he didn’t attempt to see Emily, or try any investigation on his own. Obviously no one was going to talk to the accused murderer about the victim.
I have to depend on a drug addict to find and interview potential witnesses? Wonderful.
Jesse had just finished up a sandwich and cup of coffee when Jeremy arrived. He’d cleaned himself up all right, but his eyes were still bloodshot and he seemed confused when he entered the café. After a minute he spotted Jesse waving at him and made his way to the table.
“Sorry about that.”
Unsure exactly what Jeremy was referring to, Jesse just shrugged and pointed to the chair across from him. “You want something to eat?”
“No. Just some coffee.” He looked around until he caught the eye of a waitress and waved her over. “Coffee. Black.”
The man looked as though he could use a good meal, but Jesse wasn’t about to start babysitting their investigator.
Once Jeremy’s coffee arrived and Jesse’s cup refilled, he leaned on his forearms and regarded the man. “I have no idea how fond you are of your drugs, but if you’re going to continue to work for me and Hunter, you need to straighten yourself out.”
Steele didn’t reply, but watched him carefully over the rim of his coffee cup.
“I’d like to see what you have so far on Smith’s business practices. Hunter swears you’re top in your field, and I trust him. I will tell you, however, that I don’t trust you. Or anyone who’s controlled by a drug.”
“I’m in control, not the drug.”
“Yes. I’ve heard that before.” He took a sip of coffee. “In any event I’ll continue with your assistance as long as you’re coming up with results.” Jesse nodded to the file Jeremy had placed on the table. “That your notes?”
Jeremy pulled out the pages of notes, and they discussed them for over an hour. A little more satisfied with the job the Ranger was doing, Jesse left with instructions for Jeremy to dig deeper. With the shenanigans the deceased had been pulling, there had to be others who would have wanted the man dead.
Emily fidgeted in her chair as Louis’s attorney, Mr. DeMarco, polished his spectacles, then settled them on his nose. He fiddled with the papers in front of him, and then adjusting his eyeglasses one more time, smiled up at her and Mr. Sanders.
They’d returned from the funeral hours ago, along with twenty or so friends and business associates. Emily’s nerves had been stretched to the limit as time after time her hand was gripped and condolences offered.
Whiskey and coffee was served, platters of sandwiches, and plates of cakes. Knowing she had the will reading to still go through, she’d thought the crowd would never leave.
Mr. DeMarco’s words pulled her back to the library and the task she now faced. “I am ready to read the Last Will and Testament of the late Mr. Louis Smith.” He paused as if expecting trumpets from on high to echo in the room.
Emily held back a snort. She would expect more like the gnashing of teeth from the bowels of hell.
Mr. Sanders was in a worse state than she was. He continued to mop his forehead with a handkerchief, and looked as if he wanted to clear his stomach of his breakfast. Her fear returned of being penniless once more. Hopefully, there was still a goodly portion of her inheritance left.
The lawyer cleared his throat and began to read. “I, Louis Smith, being of sound mind and body do hereby . . .”
Fifteen minutes later it was over. Sanders leapt up and pumped the lawyer’s hand, his previous anxiety gone. He smiled broadly at her and left the room.
Louis had left him his half of the business.
Emily was too numb to speak. Everything she owned was gone. Except the clothes on her back. Since the house had been bequeathed to a woman she had never heard of, she wasn’t even sure if the clothing in her closet belonged to her. Certainly not her grandmama’s lovely, delicate pink and blue china tea set. No, that was gone, too. Along with the paintings on the walls that came from her parents. The specially-made furniture in her sitting room. Gone. All of it gone.
“. . . the mansion at 3642 Broadway, Galveston, Texas is hereby bequeathed to Miss Constanza D’Lia of Galveston, Texas with all its contents and furniture.”
She shook her head, realizing Mr. DeMarco was speaking to her. “Mrs. Smith?”
“Yes?”
“I want you to know I strongly advised your late husband not to do this. But he assured me that you had an inheritance from your parents and were quite well set, so you had no need of his money.”
She wanted to scream and cry and rip out her hair. Yes, she had an inheritance, but if any of it was left, it had just gone to this Miss D’Lia, along with everything else.
Oh God. How would she survive?
“Mrs. Smith?”
Lord, the blasted man was still sitting there, gazing at her with eyes full of pity. “I will contact Miss D’Lia and advise her you will need at least ten days to vacate the mansion.” He tugged on his collar. “I hate to say this, but by law an inventory of the contents will be done immediately, and then again when you leave.”
Ten days. An inventory. She squashed down the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble up and escape from her insides. Surely they would then cart her out and lock her up in the loony bin. Perhaps that would be better than out on the street. Which is where I’ll be once I lose my home.
Out on the street. With nothing. And she most likely would never again hold a job since she’d walked off her shift at the Harvey House, so no reference there.
Should she ask Mr. DeMarco who this woman was? Did she really want to know?
Louis truly did despise me. Why?
She raised her chin and regarded him through weary eyes. “Yes. That is most kind of you, Mr. DeMarco. I would need the full ten days, I am sure. And you may begin the inventory whenever you wish.”
Even the staff was better off than she was. Louis had bequeathed them, along with the mansion, to Miss D’Lia. She huffed. As if people could be bequeathed. As long as they performed their duties, the new owner would most likely keep them on. Perhaps she could borrow a uniform and pass herself off as the parlor maid.
If Louis weren’t already dead, she would shoot him herself.
She had to get rid of this man who sat there looking so sad for her. He must understand from her shock that there was no inheritance leaving her well off. She almost felt sorry for him. That caused anoth
er giggle to start. She needed to pull herself together and make plans.
“Thank you, Mr. DeMarco. I will see you out.” She stood on shaky legs and walked him to the door. Nodding briefly at Martin, she turned and walked slowly up the stairs to her bedroom.
Where she climbed into bed and lay very still, staring dry-eyed at the ceiling.
Chapter 20
The District Attorney’s office was dark and dingy, making Jesse wonder how someone could work there when Galveston had such an enormous amount of fine weather right outside the door. That situation might have accounted for the DA’s foul mood.
“So you’re the lawyer for Henderson?” The DA glared at him, almost as if he resented Hunter exercising his right to an attorney. Since he hadn’t troubled to introduce himself, Jesse took note of his name—Emmett Spencer—from the law school degree hanging on the wall behind him.
“Yes, I am.”
“I don’t know why the man needs a lawyer. He should just confess and save the taxpayers the cost of a trial.”
Jesse swallowed his sharp retort. No point in antagonizing the man. “Well, perhaps he didn’t confess—to save the taxpayers’ money, of course—because he’s innocent.”
Spencer waved his hand in dismissal. “They all say that. But we have your man dead to rights.”
“That is the reason for my visit, Mr. Spencer. I’ve gotten some information from the police chief, but I want to know exactly what your case is.”
The DA shook his head as if Jesse were a young boy out of his realm, trying to play with the adults. “I know the police chief already compromised my case by blabbing to Henderson what he had, so you know what we’re looking at here. First,” he counted off on his fingers. “He threatened Mr. Smith in front of a police officer. Two, he was secretly seeing the victim’s wife, Mrs. Emily Smith, and in fact tried to escape Galveston with her only a few nights before Mr. Smith was murdered. And three, Mr. Smith was killed with a forty-four caliber gun. It is well known the Texas Rangers—the organization your client was a part of for ten years—uses a Walker Colt forty-four.”
“That’s it?”
The DA scowled. “Don’t try that with me, Mr. Big Shot Out-of-Town Attorney. You know that’s plenty to see your client swinging from a rope.”
“I don’t know that at all. Furthermore while you have the wrong person behind bars, the true murderer is walking the streets of Galveston, and might even have reason to kill Mrs. Smith. Have you thought of that?”
“Garbage. We have the right man. You know it and I know it.” He leaned closer over the desk. “We’re willing to offer your client a deal.”
“Really?”
“Yes. To save the taxpayers money, if he pleads guilty, we’ll take the death penalty off the table and let him do life.”
“So generous of you. My client spends the rest of his life behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit?”
“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”
Jesse stood and extended his hand to the man. “I will talk it over with my client and let you know.” The men shook hands. “Just keep in mind what I said. If anything happens to Mrs. Smith because of the police department’s short-sightedness, you will hear from me loud and clear.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, Cochran,” the DA growled as he shuffled the papers on his desk.
Emily alighted from the automobile in front of Millie’s shop and turned to Martin. “You don’t have to come in with me. Just wait out here, or return home if you like. I’ll need about three hours.”
“Yes, Mrs. Smith. I will return in three hours.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. Although why she should need to worry about Martin was ridiculous. There was no longer a reason to spy on her. And since the reading of the will where the servants had all been taken care of—unlike her—she was lucky Martin even deigned to drive her around.
The note she’d received from a young boy this morning, telling her to go to Millie’s shop at one o’clock, could only have come from Hunter. It had been unsigned, but no one else would summon her here. She hurried up the steps of the shop and burst through the door to the startled expressions of Mrs. Davis and her two daughters, Amy and Amelia.
“Oh, I am so sorry.” She smoothed the sides of her hair and gave them a bright smile. “Mrs. Davis, Amy, Amelia, so nice to see you.”
“Mrs. Smith,” Mrs. Davis said. “I am so sorry about your husband.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Nasty business for sure. I’m just glad they locked up that horrid man who did it.”
Emily felt the blood rush to her face, and attempted to calm herself. She wanted so badly to blurt out how wrong they were, that the man they’d arrested had not killed her husband. But common sense prevailed, and she only dipped her chin slightly in acknowledgement of her statement, then turned to Millie. “I received a note. I assume my dress is ready?” She hoped the piercing glance she gave the dressmaker conveyed the proper message.
Millie stumbled for a moment, and then said, “Oh, yes. Of course. I have it in the back, Mrs. Smith. If you will follow me, I will get it for you.” She smiled at Mrs. Davis, “I will be right back, this will only take a moment.”
The woman waved the dressmaker off and continued to look through the many pattern books strewn around the table where she and her daughters sat.
“What is going on?” Millie asked as the curtain swung closed.
“I received a note. It had to be from Mr. Henderson. I’ll just peek out the back.” Sure enough when she opened the door, Hunter stood there, leaning against the fence. When he saw her, he straightened and gave her the lopsided smile she loved so much.
“Yes,” she said to Millie. “I was right. I will be gone for a while. Can you handle Mrs. Davis?”
“No worries, Mrs. Smith. I will tell her you have an entire wardrobe to try on.” She winked and then giggled like a youthful girl. “You go enjoy the time with your young man.”
Hunter opened his arms and Emily ran to him, feeling happy and carefree. “I’m so glad you came for me.”
“Come. I have a carriage. We need to get away from the center of town as quickly as possible.” He took her hand and led her to a horse and carriage in a stable two blocks from Millie’s shop.
Once they settled in Hunter snapped the reins, and the horse plodded along. “I’m afraid we don’t have the fastest animal in the stable.”
“That’s all right. I’m enjoying the pace.”
She pushed her problems to the back of her mind, allowing a sense of contentment to settle over her as they rode farther from town. Being with Hunter made her feel safer; why, she didn’t know. He could conceivably spend the rest of his life in prison, if he wasn’t hung instead. Her problem of no money seemed minor compared to what he faced.
It didn’t take her long to realize they were headed to the spot at the beach she considered ‘their place.’ She moved closer to him, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, bringing her up against his body.
They followed the same routine from before, with Hunter helping her over the boulders to the wet sand of the beach. It was a cooler day, the sky filled with clouds, a reminder that autumn had arrived. Hunter spread out a blanket he’d carried with him, and they settled in front of the waves washing onto the shore.
“Emily, I need your help.”
“Of course. Anything.” Her heart skipped a beat at the serious look on his face. He’d been unusually quiet on the ride, but now she worried that something worse had happened. Here she was trying to forget her problems, and he was dealing with his very life. “What is it?”
“The police know about our relationship.”
She sighed. “I know. They came to visit me the day before the funeral. They’d already discovered I had been in Guthrie, and that Loui
s had come after me.”
“With that information, it only strengthens their case against me. Their initial reasoning for my arrest was the fact that I tried to get them to charge Louis with my father’s murder. They apparently assumed I’d taken the law into my own hands and shot him. Now that they know about us, they seem to think I killed Louis to free you from him.”
Her hands turned to ice and her mouth dried up. “What can we do?”
“I have a friend, Jeremy Steele, who worked as an investigator for the Rangers. We’ve worked together before. He’s been here in Galveston gathering information for my uncle to use for my defense.
“Although it hasn’t occurred to the police, the person who killed Louis is still out there. That is, if he hasn’t already left town. I need to know how deeply Louis was involved in his financial scams and who was ready to notify the police. That’s where you can help.”
She squeezed his hands. “Go ahead.”
“I want you to search Louis’s desk, his room, the library, anywhere he would keep notes, ledgers, or information on his business.”
“I can do that. However, there is something I just learned that may affect any search I can conduct at the mansion.” She took a deep breath, still disbelieving what she’d heard at the reading. “I will have no home in ten days. Actually, more like six days as the reading of the will was last Friday.”
His jaw dropped. “Surely Louis didn’t leave you without the house?”
Despite her determination to not turn into a watering pot, she felt the tears build in her eyes. She fought to keep them there. “He left everything—everything I own—to someone I don’t even know.”
Anyplace But Here (Oklahoma Lovers Series Book 5) Page 19