“Grown-ups don’t always pay attention. Luke is afraid.”
“And exactly, who is Luke? Where does he live and why is he afraid?” Elizabeth raised her brows.
“A neighbor boy out by the Blakes. He only has a mother.”
Elizabeth’s heart picked up speed. Did Luke know anything about the holdup? Had he seen something? “When did he hear a shot? Where was he at the time?”
“Some days after the bank got robbed. He thought it was the crooks fighting over the loot. That made him afraid.” Amy took a breath. “Like I said, there’s this open field out a ways from that old burnt-out house. Luke heard the shot from there.”
Elizabeth caught her breath. A picture of Franklin, lying on the ground in a pool of blood, popped into her mind. She couldn’t keep her voice steady. “Maybe the shooter was aiming at the blackbirds as well.”
Amy shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe Luke will know.” She hunched her shoulders. “He’s scared, is all I know.”
At the moment, Elizabeth was anxious to speak to JP, to get his take on this information, and to go with him to question Luke. She hoped the boy might be able to shed some light on the murder. She wanted the noose off from around her neck.
Elizabeth entered the back door with Amy directly behind her. The smell of bread baking, along with a whiff of cinnamon, permeated the hallway.
“Supper smells delicious. Let’s hurry and search out JP. He’s usually in his office at this time of day.”
She headed down the corridor with Amy behind her. Tapping on the door, Elizabeth pushed into his office. This room, with a slight odor of leather, ink, cigar smoke and JP behind his desk, would always linger in her mind, pleasant, comforting.
“JP, Amy has some information for you. Seems one of her friends heard a gunshot near the old Clarke place around the time in question. What do you think? The boy might know something helpful.”
~ ~ ~
The murder was of the utmost importance to JP. He must pull Elizabeth out of this tangle of murder. Laying his book aside, he gazed at Amy for a brief second. A glimmer of hope shivered through him. Maybe the boy could shed light on the matter.
“What’s this about a friend of yours witnessing a shooting? When and where?”
Amy shrugged. “I don’t know. I know he’s scared somebody’s gonna shoot him too.”
JP studied her, his regard direct and unwavering. “Perhaps we’d better reserve our questions for him. I’ll head over there in the morning and see what I can discover.”
“I could go with you,” Elizabeth offered hopefully.
His lips narrowed to a thin, stubborn line. “Not a chance. Not you. Not Amy.”
“He might be scared of you,” Amy stated, her eyes round.
“I don’t frighten children. He’ll be fine.”
The dinner bell rang ending any further discussion. Elizabeth tried to catch his eye, but he avoided her efforts. He said no more on the matter. Not on the way into supper. Not even when he rolled over the next morning. He quietly moved out of the bed and stood staring down at her lovely face. Let her sleep. He didn’t want Elizabeth using her weapons of persuasion on him.
JP gazed out the window at the dawn crawling over the trees and invading the landscape with light. A slight chill of early fall hung crisp in the air. Stretching his arms over his head, and arching his back, he viewed the quickly rising sun, soon to drown out the fading night entirely. He considered this a perfect day to visit a frightened youngster. JP hoped the boy did know something of value, anything to direct the deputy’s attention away from Elizabeth.
After breakfast, JP saddled up and rode out, alert, surveying all in his domain, slow and easy. In the distance, a dog barked. Cattle straggled across the path in front of him. He settled deeper in the saddle. All was as it should be with this part of the herd.
Riding through the woods, he observed sweetgum leaves turning orange, red, even some gold mixed with the evergreen of pines, holly, and yaupon. A wren fluttered out of a white oak, the leaves already brown and falling. With his thoughts on his wife, he had to rein in his horse to avoid a rabbit frozen in the trail for a split second before bounding into the brush.
The more he thought about the murder, the threat hanging over his wife’s head, and that dimwitted clod of a deputy, helpless rage seized him. Simply because she found the body, she was his main suspect. If this young boy, Luke, could offer any evidence leading away from Elizabeth, JP would be eternally grateful.
Still, when her name was cleared, and she would be freed from suspicion, what excuse could he use to keep her at the house where she belonged, safe and sound? He wanted her happy. Without being totally selfish, his idea of marriage meant he provided while she kept the home fires burning and minded the children. Hmm. Now there was a thought. He grinned.
A lazy curl of smoke drifted above the trees. Urging his horse to a faster pace, he rode in that direction. He soon spied the Martin homestead. This was the place. A small cabin with a covered front porch nestled in a stand of live oak and sweetgum trees. A young boy, near eight years old, stood with his arm wrapped around one post, his stare directed at JP.
JP tipped his hat and rode up to the porch. “How do.” He dismounted tying his horse’s reins to the rail. “Are you Luke Martin?”
The boy’s eyes rounded in fear, but he nodded. Hanging his head, he nervously shuffled his bare feet on the porch floor. “You that Honeycutt man?”
JP grinned at him. “Sure am.” He glanced around. “Where is your mother?”
Luke gestured with his head. “Out back I reckon.” He peeked up between locks of hair hanging on his brow. “Am I in trouble?”
JP propped one foot on the steps, leaning his elbows on his knee, closer to the boy’s level. “No. Amy told me you know about trapping birds. I simply want to hear all about your bird hunting. We men are interested in hunting, trapping and the like. Don’t you think?”
Luke nodded and grinned back. “Sure do.”
“Amy said there’s an open field and it’s the best place. What do you think?”
Luke straightened and stopped leaning on the post. “Amy knows about bird hunting.”
“I only wanted to know if you agree and if you bagged anything lately.”
Luke shifted his weight onto his other foot. His eyes widened even further. “The best place is in that big field down the Clarke cutoff. The one Amy told you about.”
JP sank onto the edge of the porch and gazed up at Luke. “I take it you hunt there often.”
Luke sat down beside him. “Naw. I ain’t been back.”
JP raised his shoulders. “If it’s a good place to hunt, why haven’t you been back?”
Luke swung his legs and stared down at the bare ground. “Last time I went, I heard shooting. Maybe the bullet was meant for me what with bank robbers and rustlers running loose. Mom said I was silly, but she didn’t make me go back.”
JP’s stomach tightened. Maybe the boy did know something. “It’s a good spot, but you were afraid of the shooting?”
Luke nodded. “Yep. ’Cuse me. Mom says I gotta say yes, sir.” With a solemn expression, he continued, “Yes, sir, that’s why.”
JP tried to form his question in a reassuring tone, level and non-threatening. “Why would you think the bullet was meant for you?”
“Cause I seen the buggy they was in. I heard the shot. Then the buggy came ripping through the dew in a tearing hurry.”
“Let me get this straight. You heard the shot and saw the buggy. Is that right?”
Luke nodded.
“Tell me about the entire incident.”
Luke stared at him for a long minute before he began his tale. “I was trapping blackbirds near that old burnt-out house. There’s this open field and blackbirds came swirling �
�round. That’s when the fancy black buggy rolled past scaring all the birds away. It had yella wheels and was carrying double. Before long, a little ways down the track, I heard a gunshot.” He nervously rubbed the top of one foot with the bottom of the other, his hands in his pocket. “Them birds left.”
“What did you do when you heard the shot?”
“I hid.” Luke gazed up at JP, his eyes round with apprehension. “Do you think the crook will shoot me too?”
“Why would he want to shoot you?” JP kept his tone calm and reassuring. Damn the killer for all the anguish he’d inflicted.
“Cause maybe I seen the buggy. Crooks don’t like for a fella to see ’em doing stuff.”
“What, uh, stuff did you see the crooks do?”
Luke shrugged. “All I know is two was riding in that fancy black buggy, but only one came back after the shooting.”
JP raised his brows. “That certainly does qualify as stuff. You’re certain you didn’t see either man coming or going?” He had hoped the boy could supply more, a description, something.
“Naw.” Luke swallowed, nervous, restless, and shifted his gaze to the ground. “I mean, no, sir. I didn’t get a good look at neither one of ’em, only two shadows from inside climbing out on the horse. But after the shooting, one of ’em didn’t come back. Only one was in the buggy. That’s all I know.” Luke held up his hands, pleading, “I can’t get killed. I’m the only man at our house. What would my momma do without me?”
JP had to stomp down his anger before he reassured the boy. “No one will shoot you. I’ll make sure of that.”
Luke narrowed his lids. “How?”
“I’ll set one of my cowhands to keep a watch on you and your mom. Do you reckon that’ll do?”
“Yes, sir. That would be mighty nice. Then I can sleep at night ’stead of listening.”
JP clinched his jaw. “You do that. Someone will be close by.”
Before JP could depart, Mrs. Martin, a slim girl of a woman, approached the pole fence at the side yard. She leaned over the top rail avoiding the morning glories climbing a post. “How do, Mr. Honeycutt. Can I help you?”
He tipped his hat. “No, ma’am. Amy told me Luke heard some shooting. Said he was frightened.” JP ruffled Luke’s hair. “I’ve assured him that I’ll send a man around to keep a watch over you and yours.”
She smiled. “That’s mighty kind of you. It’s just me and Luke. It’s a fine thing to set him at ease. I appreciate it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. No trouble.” From the porch, JP swung onto his horse’s back, waved, and rode away. His temper did a slow simmer. Just give him a chance at those low-down thieves and every body and soul that committed the crime would wish he’d never been born.
When he cooled down, he ruminated about all he’d heard. Things being what they were, more than likely the shiny black buggy belonged to one Rupert Landow, owner of the bank, and an altogether annoying character. Still, what reason would he have for murdering his bank teller?
Chapter 29
Elizabeth headed to her dressing room opening off the master’s suite. She froze, her hand already around the cool metal doorknob to her chamber, when a slight rustle of sound eked under the door. It wasn’t the housekeeper or a maid. She’d passed both on her way up, and JP was in his office. Quietly opening the door, she cautiously peeked inside.
Amy had Elizabeth’s satchel on the floor, the pistol in her hand. Elizabeth’s heart nearly exploded with fright. For a moment, she couldn’t make a sound through the tightened muscles in her throat.
She forced her legs forward finally regaining her voice. “Young lady, exactly what do you think you’re doing?”
Startled, Amy jerked and dropped the pistol. She gazed up at Elizabeth, her eyes rounded in fright. “Uh, I was looking for you. You know I always look for you after school.”
Elizabeth scooped up the gun, slipping it into her pocket, and frowned down at the girl. “You found me. What possessed you to look in my satchel?”
A guilty expression flitted across Amy’s face. “While I was looking for you, the bag fell out of the clothespress.”
With a skeptical lift of her brows, Elizabeth said, “It just fell out? You didn’t open the door or anything?” She gave a delicate titter filled with doubt. “Come, Amy, did you really expect to find me in the clothespress, or maybe under the bed?”
“Well, I sorta forgot I was looking for you. Especially when I bumped the door. It opened and your satchel maybe lean out a bit. I was gonna shove it back in, but I had to make sure everything was all right. Something could of got broke.”
Annoyed and still alarmed, Elizabeth placed her cupped hand over her mouth to control her need to shout at the child. “No more, Amy. You were snooping. When you discovered my pistol, you should have left the weapon alone. Guns are dangerous. You could have been hurt.”
Tears trailed down Amy’s cheeks. “I was only looking. I won’t never touch it again. I promise.”
“And no more snooping in my things.” Elizabeth emphasized her words with a wave of her hands.
“Yes, ma’am,” Amy said a little above a whisper, her chin hung to her chest.
With a meek, pleading expression, Amy raised her head. “I only wanted to look at it.”
Exasperated and anxious to make Amy understand the danger, Elizabeth fisted her hands on her hips.
“Amy, you were holding a weapon in your hand, not simply looking at it.”
“I couldn’t see it real good. This book had it jammed into the corner.” She held up a blue ledger.
Amid the mind-numbing pounding of her pulse and her heart skipping half a beat, Elizabeth swallowed. With trembling fingers, she reached for Franklin’s ledger. Why was his book in her satchel? Had he put it there, or someone else? The thoughts churned her stomach with excitement and dread.
“Come on, Amy. We must show this to JP at once.”
Amy stepped back, her face crumpling in distress. “But I don’t want to get in trouble.”
Elizabeth strengthened her resolve. The child must learn an important lesson. “You should have thought of that before you snooped.”
Amy raised her head, straightened her spine and marched beside Elizabeth. Poor child. Ages ago she’d learned to take blows and accept whatever life threw at her.
“You must understand handling my pistol is dangerous. It could have ended in disaster.” Elizabeth needed Amy to remember her warning. “The next time you want to examine things that don’t belong to you, you must ask permission. Understand?”
Amy nodded and hung her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Elizabeth stared down at Amy. “And don’t touch my gun again. Ever.”
Amy offered a tentative smile. “I promise.”
The young girl’s puppy dog eyes got to Elizabeth and she relented. There was no need to parade the misdeeds in front of JP. “Always remember this warning.”
Amy caught Elizabeth’s hand and squeezed her fingers for comfort. “I’ll remember forever. I promise.”
“Very well.” Elizabeth sank into a chair by the window. “Let’s see if we can discover what’s so important about this book before I show it to JP. Perhaps we won’t find it necessary to involve him.” She smoothed the first page open and read aloud, “This ledger is the property of Franklin Millbury Plunkett, Federal Bank Examiner.’” Surprised and a little daunted, Elizabeth turned the book over and rubbed her hand over the smooth leather.
“What’s a bank examiner?”
“A bank examiner is an employee of the government. He checks the bank account record to make certain everything is on the up and up.”
Amy plopped down on the floor and crossed her legs. “You mean he was trying to catch a crook?”
Elizabeth hesitated before leaning ba
ck in her chair. “Not necessarily. I can see him as a teller, but bank examiner . . . never.” She took time to gather her thoughts and half whispered, “Maybe he was in on the robbery. He would certainly know about the gold, all the particulars. I suppose I’d better read the entire ledger. It might hold a clue.”
She perused the book, slowly, studying each entry in detail. “This is interesting. Franklin noted the date of the gold shipment, when the gold would arrive, the length of time it would be in the bank vault, and the amount.”
“Does that mean he was a crook? He could of stole the money and everything.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t believe so. He was at the dance when the robbery took place.”
“He could have been the helper.”
Elizabeth shot a look at the young girl. Not wanting to start baseless rumors, she frowned. “Let’s not accuse him where no proof exists.” She glanced down at the ledger once more. “Mercy, what a meticulous, and I might say tedious with details, this book is to read. I can readily believe someone of Franklin’s disposition wrote every stroke penned here.”
“You mean you don’t like him?”
“That’s not what I meant. I find his writing incredibly detailed, hard to read. Even boring.” Elizabeth read several more pages. “Franklin notes someone may have discovered his official status as bank examiner.”
Amy gazed up at her with a puzzled expression. “Well, did he help rob the bank or not?”
“At this point, I really couldn’t say.”
When Elizabeth considered everything, Franklin could have helped someone on the outside. Everything needed planning, when to commit the theft, how to accomplish the deed, where to stash the loot, and how to get away.
Where to stash the loot! Why hadn’t she thought of that before? The gold must be close to Bittersweep. It would take a wagon to haul the bags of coins very far, even a short distance. With so many wagons traveling to and from the dance, the wheel tracks of the suspect conveyance would have blended with the others. If the deputy hurried to inform the sheriff, the posse was not all that far behind the thieves.
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