Kate stood on her tiptoes, stretching her hands out as far as she could, before she finally wrested the doors open, only to discover that the shelves inside held nothing more than a thick coating of dust. She shut them softly, despite the temptation to close them with a good thwack, and continued her search.
The drawer next to the stove stuck when she tried to open it. She jiggled it this way and that, but nothing could budge it. From there she moved on to the pantry, hope dimming with each pull of a knob or closing of a drawer. She’d found nothing more than a few stray coupons and a forgotten sponge under the sink when she heard Gail and the marshal coming back down the hallway.
“You haven’t eaten at The Bristol yet?” Gail was saying as they came into the kitchen. “You really must before you leave town. It’s in the new Hamilton Springs Hotel. It’s quite good, although I’m sure it doesn’t hold a candle to the restaurants in San Antonio.” Again, she fluttered her eyelashes.
“I’ll be sure and go there.” The marshal was pleasant but noncommittal, much to the Realtor’s dismay.
“So, what do you think?” Kate asked him as the two entered the kitchen. It was time to intervene on the poor man’s behalf before Gail decided to drop to one knee and propose marriage. “Would it be a good investment for the church?”
She could see his frustration in the lines around his eyes. He would much rather have been left on his own to inspect the house.
“It appears to be sound. And in good repair.”
“I have the inspection letter if you’d like to come back to the office. I’d be happy to make you a copy.” No doubt Gail would have been happy to take him from there to dinner too.
“No, no. That won’t be necessary,” he said. If the marshal went back to the realty office, he might never be heard from again. “If you wouldn’t mind, Gail, I’d like to speak to Kate for just a moment.”
The Realtor looked nonplussed but then nodded in agreement. “Of course. I understand. I’ll just step outside and make a quick phone call.”
“Any luck?” he asked in a low voice when Gail had left.
“Nothing. I don’t suppose you noticed anything while you were under Gail’s watchful eye.”
“No. So nothing in here?”
“A lot of dust and one drawer that’s stuck. Other than that, no.”
“A drawer? Where?”
Kate waved toward the stove. “That small one.”
“Let me see what I can do.”
With a modicum of pushing and pulling, he loosened the drawer so that it slid out to reveal its contents.
“Anything?” Kate asked, trying to peer over his shoulder, a difficult thing to do when a man was as tall as Marshal Wright.
“Maybe.” He reached into the back of the drawer. “Mavis really should be more thorough when she leaves town.”
Kate frowned. What an odd thing to say. And then she saw what was in the marshal’s hand.
“Oh dear.” Kate didn’t like guns. She never had. Even one as feminine as the little pearl-handled revolver cradled like an egg in the marshal’s palm.
“I’m surprised she left this behind.” The marshal checked to see if the gun was loaded. “No bullets,” he added, closing the chamber with a snap. “So not much use.”
“It must be the one she got out of her safe-deposit box.”
The marshal looked up at her, his eyes sharp. “What do you mean?”
“The manager at the bank told me that Mavis had been there shortly before she left town. She took the contents of her safe-deposit box, and he thought that one of the items in it was a gun.”
The marshal whistled in admiration. “You certainly know how to pump a guy for information.”
Kate blushed at his praise. “Well, I didn’t pump him for information, as you say, so much as ask him a few questions.”
“And what else did the helpful bank manager tell you?”
“Not anything, really. He didn’t know where she’d gone. And she closed all of her accounts.”
“You have to like that about a small town.” The marshal took the pistol and slipped it into his coat pocket. “In Chicago, you’d never get that kind of information for free.”
“You have to pay your informants?”
The marshal looked taken aback for a moment, and then his face relaxed into its normal placid lines. “Like I said, things are different in the big city.”
“I guess people here just want to be helpful.”
“The small-town thing is beginning to grow on me.” He peeked around the corner of the kitchen doorway. “I think the barracuda is still on the phone. Where else did you search?”
“That’s it. Just in here.”
“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin and looked around the kitchen with an assessing eye. “What about the freezer?”
“The freezer?”
“Did you check it?”
“No. I never thought to.”
“I guess you’re not one of those women who puts her good jewelry in a fake carton of ice cream when you leave town.”
Kate had to laugh at that. “Well, I’d have to own some expensive jewelry to even think about hiding it.”
While she had some nice costume pieces, fancy baubles had never held much interest for her. She and Paul had always had more immediate uses for their money, whether giving to good causes or putting their children through college.
“That’s a shame. You’d look good in diamonds.”
Kate suddenly felt uncomfortable with the marshal’s words.
“Well, let’s check the freezer, then.” She pulled the old-fashioned handle that released the catch, and the door swung open. The air inside was warm and stale.
The marshal stood behind her, looking over her shoulder. “Anything?”
The freezer contained a few antique metal ice trays but little else.
“Again, nothing,” Kate said.
The marshal reached over her shoulder and retrieved the ice trays. “Leave no stone unturned.” He went to the sink and pulled the small lever that loosened ice, though of course there wasn’t any now.
“She’d have to hide something pretty small in an ice cube tray,” Kate said, thinking that the marshal was really grasping for straws.
“You never know.” He flipped the trays over into the sink and looked them over. “People do strange things.”
“Yes, like go through other people’s freezers, looking for clues to their disappearance.”
“Touché.” He smiled at her.
And then Gail Carson appeared in the kitchen doorway. Kate jumped, startled by the woman’s sudden appearance.
“Oh, Gail. I didn’t hear you come back in.”
“What are you doing?” Gail sounded half-curious, half-suspicious. “Are those the ice trays?”
“Kate’s never seen this old-fashioned kind before,” the marshal said, lying smoothly once again. “I was just demonstrating. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. That’s perfectly fine.” Gail beamed up at him.
Kate suspected that Gail would have let the marshal do just about anything, up to and including setting fire to Mavis Bixby’s house.
“They’re certainly old school. Not many like that anymore,” Gail said.
“Thank goodness.” The marshal scooped up the trays and placed them back in the freezer. “Give me an icemaker any day.”
“I agree.”
Before moving to Copper Mill, Kate had entertained many ideas of what to expect. But in her wildest dreams, she would never have anticipated standing in the kitchen of a missing woman, conducting a clandestine search with an undercover U.S. marshal and discussing the quaintness of metal ice-cube trays with the local real estate queen. Sometimes life was truly strange.
“So, what do you think, Carl? I’m interested in your opinion about the property too.”
“Everything looks good to me,” he answered vaguely but with a pleasant smile that the Realtor took for encouragement.
“We could discuss it further,”
Gail said, “if you’re free for dinner.”
Kate had to admire the woman’s boldness. It certainly accounted for her success in selling real estate in a tiny town like Copper Mill.
“Thank you, Ms. Carson, but I’m afraid business calls me out of town this evening.”
No amount of persuading on Gail’s part could move the marshal to change his plans. Kate wondered what he really was up to that evening, and where he was staying, for that matter. He hadn’t seemed familiar with the Hamilton Springs Hotel, and there was no other place in Copper Mill. Perhaps he had a room at one of the B and Bs or the hotel in Pine Ridge.
“Another time, then.” Gail was undaunted.
“Perhaps.”
The Realtor turned to lead them out of the house, and the marshal winked at Kate. But suddenly his teasing manner toward Gail made Kate uncomfortable. And it also made her wonder a little about his professionalism. Or perhaps she was too accustomed to church life, and her standards were too stringent.
“Thank you again, Gail, for showing us the house,” Kate said, hoping her guilt wasn’t evident in her words.
They said good-bye to Gail at her car, and the woman shot one last glance at the marshal that was so wistful Kate almost felt sorry for her. It occurred to her that being a single woman of a certain age in a town like Copper Mill couldn’t be easy, a fact she’d never given much thought to before now.
Kate and Marshal Wright retraced their steps across the expanse of grass between the two houses, neither saying much. Kate was feeling a bit embarrassed about their conspiracy against Gail Carson. What occupied the marshal’s thoughts, she couldn’t say.
“What will you do with the gun?” she asked as they approached her front door.
“Turn it over to my office when I go back to Chicago.”
“And until then?”
He smiled. “Don’t worry. I know what to do with a gun.”
“I’m glad I wasn’t alone when I found it,” Kate said. “Because I wouldn’t have known what to do with it.”
“So the local sleuth isn’t a secret firearms specialist?”
At the beginning of the day, Kate had found the marshal’s attention flattering, but now she was ready for him to leave.
“What will you do next?” she asked, stepping up on the porch but not inviting the marshal inside.
“I’ve got a lead to follow up in Chattanooga tomorrow. And I’d like to ask a favor of you.”
“Yes?”
“I’d like you to accompany me.”
“To Chattanooga? Why?”
“You’ve uncovered information I haven’t, despite my connections and training. And I’m worried enough about Mavis Bixby’s safety to sacrifice my pride and ask for your help.”
Well, when he put it that way . . .
“What will I tell my husband?”
“Do you ever go to Chattanooga for the day? Tell him you need to do some shopping.”
“I would prefer not to lie to Paul.” Kate had reached her limit when it came to subterfuge.
“Then tell him you’re going to further your investigation into Mavis Bixby’s disappearance.”
Kate was silent a moment. She could go to Chattanooga with the marshal and not lie to Paul, a sin of omission rather than commission, but he was going to find out eventually. By then, though, they might have found Mavis and solved the mystery. Paul, of all people, would understand the necessity of personal sacrifice in the pursuit of a higher good.
“All right. But we have to be back by late afternoon. I have choir practice on Wednesday nights.”
“If all goes well, we’ll be back long before the choir starts practicing their hallelujahs.”
“Will you pick me up?”
“It would be better if you’d meet me at the entrance to the old quarry. We’ll leave your car there.”
The warning light in Kate’s head was blinking, but she chose to ignore it. Despite his sometimes flattering attentions, she didn’t truly think the marshal had any personal interest in her. He was trying to solve a case, and she was an expedient means to an end. Nothing more. And she couldn’t give up on Mavis Bixby.
“I’d rather people didn’t know you were with me,” he added. “As I told you before, someone in Copper Mill is feeding information to Mavis’ enemies. I’d like to keep what’s known about my movements as low-key as possible.”
Finally Kate nodded in agreement. “What time shall I meet you at the quarry?”
“Nine o’clock.”
She turned to go into the house.
“Kate, thank you. For your help. I know it’s a bit unorthodox, but I’m out of my element here. Your insight’s been invaluable.”
Kate thought that was probably overstating the case, but she was glad to be helpful. “See you in the morning.” She waved at him, then she opened the front door and slipped inside.
A few moments later, she heard his car drive off. With a sigh, she crossed the living room to the kitchen and pulled the package of pork chops from the fridge. She was definitely not looking forward to an entire evening of not telling Paul what had happened today.
And she wondered how she was going to tell him the truth when the time for confession came.
Chapter Eighteen
Kate had no idea what to wear to accompany a U.S. marshal to find someone who’d run away from the Witness Protection Program. Her mother’s instructions on how to dress—clean lines, good fabrics, focus on accessories—didn’t quite cover this situation. So out of habit, Kate reached for her old reliables—a black all-season wool trouser suit from Talbots and a blue silk blouse she’d picked up on sale at Saks Fifth Avenue several years before. She’d often dressed like this when she worked as an executive assistant in an accounting firm in San Antonio, but since arriving in Copper Mill, she’d pushed most of her office outfits to the back of her closet.
She chose a pair of low-heeled black pumps and some simple pearls to complete the outfit, all the while chuckling at herself. What did it matter, really, what she wore, as long as they found Mavis Bixby safe and sound?
Paul had left early that morning for the hospital in Pine Ridge. He was the on-call chaplain for the day. It was the kind of community service he’d rarely been able to perform in San Antonio, and he was enjoying the opportunity to connect with people from all over the county.
Kate dressed quickly, poured some coffee into a travel mug, and grabbed her dress coat and purse on her way out the door. She didn’t want to be late, although she was still uneasy about leaving her car at the quarry. Still, if the marshal thought that small subterfuge was necessary, she would go along with it, albeit reluctantly.
The sky had clouded over once more, so the blessing of spring sunshine would be denied her today. The ridges and hills were a watery purple color, their tops dusted by a misty fog. The television weatherman last night had called for possible thundershowers. Kate hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Driving over the winding roads that led through the hills around Copper Mill could be tricky when the roads were slick with moisture.
Kate took the long way around to the top of Quarry Road rather than cutting through town on Sweetwater Street. By the time she reached the abandoned quarry, she was running late. The company that owned the quarry had long since closed it down, and their one concession to safety had been to erect a six-foot-high chain-link fence around the edges of the property. Copper Mill teenagers had scaled the fence for years now and used the quarry as an illicit hangout. Sheriff Roberts had been patrolling the area more frequently as of late to discourage the teens, but his efforts had met with mixed success.
Kate turned into the gravel lane that led to the quarry. The marshal’s nondescript white car sat near the gate, off to the side. To her surprise, the quarry gate was wide open. She pulled up next to the marshal’s car, and he slid out from the driver’s seat. Kate rolled down her window as he came toward her.
“Good morning, Mrs.Hanlon.” The marshal tipped his felt cowboy hat. He wore dark
slacks, a suede blazer, and boots that looked as new as a bright penny. “I’m glad to see you this morning.”
“Thank you, Marshal.” She pointed toward the gate. “I’ve never seen it open before.”
“I thought we’d put your car in there, just as a precaution. We wouldn’t want anyone to see your empty car and be worried about you.”
Kate paused. “Oh. Well, I suppose that makes sense.”
“Why don’t you just drive on through?”
Kate did as he instructed, pulling through the gate and turning off the lane into the shelter of a stand of trees. They would screen her car from view of anyone passing by on the road. She got out, locked the doors, and put the keys in her purse. “All set.”
The marshal had walked through the gate after her and now stood near the edge of the stand of trees.
“Good. Now we’re just waiting for one more person.”
Kate frowned, concerned. This was a new twist. “Someone else is going with us?”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Renee Lambert to accompany us.”
Kate held back the groan that rose in her throat. “Are you sure, Marshal? Renee’s quite . . . well . . . elderly. Do you think she’s up to it?”
The marshal smiled, taking his hat off his head and studying the brim in an ‘Aw shucks’ manner worthy of a native to Copper Mill. “Now, Mrs.Hanlon, I wouldn’t put Mrs.Lambert in jeopardy. She’ll be fine.”
“Do you really think she can help us?”
“I may need her to talk some sense into Mrs.Baxter. Renee’s the only person Mavis confided in while she was here. I’m hoping she’ll still respect Renee’s judgment.”
Kate could see his point, but she wasn’t looking forward to riding all the way to Chattanooga with Renee. Not to mention Kisses.
A crunch of gravel sounded beyond the gate, and the marshal walked toward the approaching car. There was no doubting who it belonged to. The distinctive pink Olds could have had only one owner. Renee maneuvered her car close to Kate’s—alarmingly so—and then climbed out of the low-slung seat, Kisses in tow.
“Oh, Kate.” Renee looked as astonished to see her as Kate had been to learn that Renee was joining them. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
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