CHAPTER EIGHT
The soft knock came ten minutes later. Celia had taken off her hat and coat while she was waiting, and now she went to the door and said quietly, "Who is it?"
"B and C," Landrum replied, using the operative codes for Glidinghawk and himself.
Celia let them into the room. Both men had grim expressions on their faces. As Celia shut the door behind them, Landrum went on, "What the hell was that all about?"
"I could ask you the same thing about your little performance at Madam Henrietta's tonight," Celia said coolly. "Was it just a performance, Landrum, or were you really falling down drunk?"
The Texan grinned at her. "What do you think? As long as I was there anyway, I didn't think it would do any harm to establish myself as a commission employee with a fondness for spirits. Somebody might try approaching me for information, and we could get a lead that way."
Celia nodded grudging acceptance of the story. What he said made sense. She said, "So I suppose to make your pose really convincing you went upstairs with one of the girls?"
"As a matter of fact . . . I didn't. I just spent some of Amos's money buying one of them drinks. I figure as long as I'm not bedding her, the Army can pick up the tab."
"I'll be interested to see how Colonel Powell responds to your logic, Landrum," Glidinghawk put in. He turned to Celia. "Now, as our Confederate friend asked, what happened here?"
Celia rapidly filled them in on the beginning of the incident. "What I told you in the hall was true, Landrum," she said. "The man didn't steal anything. He just nosed through the whole room."
Landrum nodded thoughtfully. "It looks like somebody is suspicious of you, Celia. What happened in Madam Henrietta's office?"
The pretty young redhead felt herself blushing. "She offered me a job," Celia said.
"That's all? She didn't say anything about the commission or who's behind the effort to find out their decision?"
"Well, what did you expect her to do?" Celia asked. "Give us the answers to all our questions on a silver platter? She's a smart woman, Landrum. She's not going to be giving anything away easily."
"So what do we do now?"
Celia took a deep breath. "No matter what Amos's orders said, I may have to go to work there to find any real evidence."
Landrum was shaking his head before the words were finished coming out of her mouth. "I can't let you do that, Celia. You know what you'd be expected to do. This isn't like dealing faro in a saloon back in Fort Griffin, girl."
"You want results, don't you?"
"Of course I do, but-"
Glidinghawk interrupted, "Landrum's right, Celia. It would be too unpleasant for you, not to mention downright dangerous. What did you tell the woman?"
"I told her I'd have to think about it."
Landrum nodded. "Good. That gives you an excuse to go back once more. If you don't find out anything this next time, though, we'll have to abandon this part of the plan. Gerald and I have our spots with the commission; maybe we can find out something working from that angle."
Celia felt frustration eating at her insides, but she could tell from the stern looks on the faces of Landrum and Glidinghawk that arguing with them wasn't going to do any good.
Well, if she couldn't convince them that she was right, she might have to just let them think she was going along with what they wanted — then go ahead and do what she had to do.
Glidinghawk said, "The man who was here in your room looked like the type who could be hired cheaply for a job of snooping. It's a shame he wouldn't talk about who hired him."
Celia frowned. "Where were you, by the way? You sound like you were watching the whole thing."
"Not all of it," the Omaha said. "I was down in our room when I heard the commotion in the hall. I cracked the door open and glanced out, but it looked like you and Landrum had everything under control. I thought it might be wiser not to get involved."
Celia nodded. "What do we do now?"
"Keep going," Landrum said. "Gerald and I are riding out on a geological survey tomorrow. We'll probably be out overnight, but I think we can be back the next day. You steer clear of Madam Henrietta's until we get back, understand?"
"All right," Celia sighed. "I really am old enough to take care of myself, though. After four missions, I'd think that you'd have some confidence in me."
"I've got plenty of confidence in you," Landrum replied. "But there's more than one fortune riding on this. The people involved wouldn't hesitate a second to kill you if they thought you were a threat to their plans."
Celia couldn't help but shudder at his words, because she knew they were true. On the surface, this mission might appear to be less dangerous than their others — after all, they were in the middle of a bustling city, not out in the wilderness of Texas or Arizona or Montana — but Celia knew that the exact opposite was true.
The men they were after this time were probably the most ruthless and deadliest of all.
That thought reminded her of Roland. He had certainly looked as if he could kill without hesitation or compunction.
"Is there anything else you can tell us about what went on tonight?" Landrum asked.
"We might try to find out some more about a man named Warren Judson," Celia told him. "He was in the office with us, and from the things he and Henrietta said, he may have some connection with her business. He's her banker, I know that."
Landrum rubbed his jaw. "Banker, eh? I never have trusted those fellas. I've always felt like it was better to look after my own money than give it to some stranger. He could be tied up in this, all right. It might mean a lot to him to know where the army's going to build that new fort."
"I'll see what I can come up with while you and Gerald are gone," Celia said.
"Be subtle," Glidinghawk reminded her. "Asking too many questions can give you away."
She nodded. "I know." Maybe she could get Fox to help her, she thought. The young former second lieutenant was getting better at this. He might come in handy.
Landrum said, "I reckon we'd all better turn in. The next few days are going to be busy."
Celia lifted a hand to her aching head. "You wouldn't happen to have a drink on you, would you, Landrum?"
He grinned at her. "After the way you acted when you thought I'd been boozing, you want me to share a nip with you?"
"My head hurts," she snapped. "I hit it against the wall when that man ran into me. I just thought a drink might get rid of my headache."
Landrum reached inside his coat and pulled out a small silver flask. "This stuff usually causes headaches, but since you've already got one, maybe it'll work." He uncapped it and passed it over to her. "Not too much, though."
Celia nodded and sipped the whiskey. It was raw stuff, the kind that Landrum's body was probably used to. It burned all the way down to her stomach, though, and made her blink rapidly.
"How's the head now?" Landrum asked a moment later.
Celia nodded. "Better." She handed the flask back to him, and he took a swig himself before he recapped it.
"Ahhh," he sighed. "Nothing like good corn. Puts hair on your chest." He glanced meaningfully at Celia's bosom. "Or in your case —"
"Good night, both of you," Celia said firmly.
Landrum went out with a grin, and there was even a hint of a smile on the Omaha's stoic face.
* * *
Celia spent a restless night, tossing and turning in the hotel's bed and trying to make some sense out of everything that had happened. She had said nothing to Landrum and Glidinghawk about Major Devlin Henry's being in Madam Henrietta's office. That omission made her feel a little guilty, as if she were withholding evidence from them.
And, of course, that was exactly what she was doing. It was entirely possible that Devlin had nothing to do with their mission — but it was equally possible that he was involved with the corruption threatening the commission.
Celia was going to find out. But until she did, she was going to give Devlin th
e benefit of the doubt.
Because she was attracted to him? That was hardly professional behavior.
She stared up at the darkened ceiling of the hotel room and willed herself to be still. There was no way she could quiet the turmoil in her mind, however.
Dawn finally came, and somewhere in that hazy space of time, Celia slept.
* * *
"I look positively dreadful," she said aloud to her reflection the next morning. She tilted her head as she sat in front of the mirror mounted on the dresser, trying to find an angle at which the evidence of her wakeful night was less obvious.
Celia brushed her hair, the strokes short and compact and angry. Gradually, the tension she was feeling began to lessen. There was plenty for her to do today. The strands of this case might be in a jumbled mess at the moment, but if she kept working with them, sooner or later they would straighten themselves out.
By the time she went downstairs an hour later, she had made significant improvements in her appearance. Her hair was carefully combed and arranged, and she was wearing a simple but attractive green dress and a lightweight, waist-length jacket. A different clerk was on duty at the desk in the lobby, and he paid no attention to her. Evidently he had not heard about the excitement of the night before.
She had breakfast at the nearby restaurant. The sun was shining as she stepped out onto the sidewalk after the meal, but again there was a chill in the air.
The streets of Denver were busy this morning. Wagons rolled up and down the thoroughfares, raising clouds of dust on the unpaved ones. Men on horseback threaded their way among the heavy vehicles. The sidewalks were full of men and women hurrying about their business.
Celia joined the throng, moving down the street into the central business district. She was looking for banks, and she found several as she strolled along the streets. It was midmorning, however, before she found the one she was actually searching for.
In the big front window, engraved beneath the bank's name, were the words WARREN JUDSON, PRESIDENT.
Celia nodded to herself. She had a starting point now.
She went through the double doors leading into the bank. A uniformed guard held the door for her and closed it behind her, nodding and smiling. He said, "Good morning, ma'am."
"Good morning," Celia replied. She glanced around the big room. It was high-ceilinged, and her words echoed slightly. There were several teller's cages along one wall with customers lined up in front of all but one of them. On the other side of the room were desks for the bank's employees. A door beyond the desks was closed, and a sign on it read PRIVATE. Celia had a feeling that was her objective.
She went on, "Could you tell me where I might find Mr. Judson, sir?"
"You have some business to discuss with him, ma'am?" the guard asked.
"Why, certainly. Why else would I wish to see him?"
The guard's smile became slightly embarrassed. Celia had a feeling that Judson's interest in attractive young women was well known to the people who worked for him.
"Mr. Judson's office is right over there, ma'am," the guard said, pointing to the door Celia had already noticed.
"Thank you," Celia said coolly.
She went across the bank's lobby and past the desks, well aware of the curious glances being sneaked at her by the tight-collared male employees. She paused at the door of Judson's office and knocked on it with her small, well-shaped fist.
"Who is it?" Judson's voice came from within.
Celia opened the door and put her head through. "It's Celia Burnett, Mr. Judson," she said quietly, so that her voice wouldn't carry to everyone outside. "Could I speak to you for a moment?"
Judson was sitting behind a large desk, pen poised over a ledger where he had been scribbling. A smile lit up his broad face as he put the pen down and closed the ledger. "Come in, my dear, come in." He pushed his chair back and stood up.
Celia stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "I know you must be a terribly busy man, Mr. Judson, and I appreciate your taking the time to see me."
"Never too busy to talk to a beautiful woman, Miss Burnett." His eyes played over her, lingering on the thrust of her breasts. "Please have a seat." He waved at a plush armchair in front of the desk. When Celia had settled into its overstuffed depths, he went on, "Now, what can I do for you?"
She leaned forward as best she could. "What I need, Mr. Judson, is some advice."
"Feel free, my dear," Judson said as he sat down behind the desk. He opened a humidor on the corner of the desk and took out a cigar. "Ask anything you like."
"What do you think I should do about Madam Henrietta's offer?"
Judson cocked an eyebrow as he clipped off the end of the cigar. "I should have thought that was perfectly obvious. I think you should accept, Miss Burnett. I hope fervently that you do."
Celia lowered her eyes. "I may have to. I shall be frank with you, Mr. Judson. I need money, a great deal of it. But if there was only something else I could do to earn it . . ."
"I understand," Judson said. "I can tell you're a sweet, innocent girl, Miss Burnett. But sometimes there are harsh realities in this world that we all must face."
Celia lifted her head, her gaze imploring. "Perhaps you could help me."
"Why, I already introduced you to Madam Henrietta-"
"No, I mean with a job. Perhaps here in your bank."
Judson threw back his head and laughed. Celia felt a surge of anger at this smug, arrogant man, but she forced it down. Losing her temper would not fit in with the role she was playing now.
"My dear Miss Burnett, I think it would be simply lovely to have you around here to brighten things up. A bank can be such a dreadfully solemn and boring place at times. But I'm afraid my depositors, to say nothing of the board of directors, would not allow me to place a woman in a position of such importance."
"There's nothing I can do here?"
Judson considered for a few seconds, then shook his head. "Impossible, simply impossible. It is true that I'm looking for another teller, but a woman . . . ? No, dear, it just isn't done." He paused, then went on, "I'm sorry."
Celia heaved a sigh. "Well, if there is nothing you can do . . . I appreciate everything you've done for me so far, Mr. Judson." She got to her feet.
"Just a moment," Judson said quickly. "Sit back down, please."
Celia hesitated, then sank back into the chair.
"Now, I don't want you worrying too much about all this, Miss Burnett," Judson said. "I promise you, Madam Henrietta is a fair employer and a good lady to work for. You won't find a better place anywhere. I've known her ever since she came to Denver, and we've come to be good friends. And I happen to know that if you can meet certain conditions, there is a great deal of money to be made right now."
Celia frowned. "What sort of conditions?"
Judson laughed. "Well, you're beautiful, so you've gotten a good start right there. But if you're also intelligent and able to keep a secret, that's even better."
"I can keep a secret," Celia declared. "I've always been trustworthy."
"And I can tell that you're intelligent." Judson got around to lighting his cigar and blew out a cloud of smoke. "You tell Henrietta when you go back to see her that I think you should help her with her special customers."
"Special customers," Celia repeated.
"Henrietta will tell you all that you need to know. Now, what do you think, Miss Burnett? Have you made up your mind?"
Celia took another deep breath. "Yes, Mr. Jud-son, I believe I have."
"Excellent!" He got up and came around the desk to take her arm as she stood. His fingers stayed on her arm, holding her there. "I'm glad you came to see me today, Miss Burnett."
"I-I'm glad I came, too, Mr. Judson."
Without warning, his grip tightened on her arm and he pulled her toward him. Celia was not prepared, and he was too strong to resist. He dropped the cigar in a large glass ashtray on the desk and slid his other arm around her, trapping her in
an embrace.
Judson's mouth came down on hers, the kiss urgent and demanding. He pressed his body against hers, crushing her against him. Celia's first impulse was to fight back, to try to escape from his grasp, but with every fiber of willpower at her command, she forced herself to relax in his arms. She made her lips pliant and responsive as his mouth ravaged hers.
When Judson finally broke the kiss, he grinned down at her and said, "You come back to Henrietta's as soon as you can, do you understand, Miss Burnett?"
"Y-Yes," Celia replied gaspingly. Her insides were roiling, but she could tell that he took her revulsion for excitement. Let him think whatever he wanted, she thought, as long as she could get out of this stuffy office soon.
Judson released her, obviously through with her for the moment. As Celia turned toward the door and tried to catch her breath, something else occurred to her and she paused. "Could I ask you one other question, Mr. Judson?"
"Of course," the banker replied.
"Who was that army officer who was in Madam Henrietta's office last night? He looked rather familiar to me."
Judson waved a hand. "Just some old friend of Henrietta's, like she said. Possibly you saw him on the train. I think he just got into town, like you."
"Oh. I wanted to be sure he wasn't connected with Madam Henrietta's business. I don't want any trouble with the army."
Judson laughed again. "Don't worry about that, my dear. The army has no intention of bothering Henrietta — and neither do any of the local authorities either. You'll be perfectly safe working there."
Celia nodded. "That's very good to know. Thank you again, Mr. Judson."
"My pleasure, Miss Burnett." And the smirk he wore said that it had indeed been a pleasure.
Again there were curious looks directed her way as she went out through the bank's lobby. Celia knew she was probably pale from the strain of the interview with Judson. As the guard held the door for her and she stepped out onto the sidewalk, the cool air felt good. It refreshed her as she walked back toward the hotel.
On the way, she thought about what she had learned from her visit to the bank. Perhaps it had been a foolhardy thing to do — after all, Judson might have hired the man to search her room the night before — but she had at least established that Judson had an even closer connection with Henrietta LaBoeuf than they had thought. There was a good chance that Judson was one of the ringleaders in the effort to discover the commission's decision.
Rocky Mountain Showdown Page 6