by Ann Collins
Alex started to shake. He didn’t want to die. Married to Julia, he had just begun to live.
“What did you do?” Marvin asked.
“Nothing.”
“You must’ve done something.”
“Somebody else did it. I got blamed for it. Murder.”
The man cackled and slapped what sounded like his thigh. “I’ve heard that before.”
“I expect you have, but it’s true. My wife, however, doesn’t believe me any more than you do.” Alex dropped back onto the cot and leaned against the rough, whitewashed wall.
“I’ve got me a wife, too,” Marvin said. “And in my experience, wives are usually more interested in what we can do for them than what they can do for us.”
Alex nodded to himself. Julia had married him to obtain ownership of the Hotel Grand Victoria. In the beginning, she had wanted him to disappear after the ceremony, leaving her alone with her hotel. Maybe she would be happy to have him gone.
Even as he thought it, Alex didn’t believe it. They’d been content together. He hadn’t imagined that. She even wanted to have children with him.
“They’re all the same,” Marvin added. “O’ course, there are times when they do earn their keep.” He laughed, a bawdy, you-know-what-I-mean laugh.
Alex refused to let himself think about the night he and Julia had made love. Those memories didn’t belong in this filthy place. None of his memories of her belonged in this place. But like a series of moving photographs playing across his mind, he once again saw her approaching him that first day on the carriage drive. She had shown no revulsion at the sight of his scarred face. Next, a fascinated Julia brazenly, yet naively, watched him taking off his shirt in the doctor’s office. Then his mind showed her walking toward him in her wedding gown under the twilight sky. Lastly, she stood unselfconsciously before him in her prim nightdress as he unfastened the buttons.
The images tortured him, and he pounded his fist into the hard, lumpy mattress.
* * *
Rendered helpless by Tilden’s unexpected attack, Julia could do nothing. His powerful hands gripped her throat. His fingers dug ever more deeply into her flesh.
Face to face, she clawed uselessly at his hands. Time slowed to a crawl. The vicious determination in his eyes mesmerized her. Unable to breathe, she mouthed, Why?
He didn’t answer.
She struggled harder for air, trying to gulp it in, but there was nothing. Her head didn’t feel right. She heard things as if from a distance—the ring of the telephone, Muffie’s yapping, a woman’s scream, and Theo yelling something. Tyler was trying to pull Tilden’s arms away from her, but the bellboy was too strong.
Darkness fringed the corners of her mind, and she felt like sobbing. Her regrets rolled through like a winter storm. She desperately wanted to see Alex again, tell him how much she loved him and apologize for not standing by him. Tilden had obviously killed Mrs. Hensley, strangling the matronly woman the same way he was now strangling her.
The bellboy’s mouth curved into a smile of absolute pleasure. He laughed, a hideous sound that jerked her out of her stupor.
Fury surged through her, giving her more strength than Julia knew she had. She would not allow Tilden to end her life, separating her forever from Alex and the life she had dreamed of living since she was a girl.
She raked her fingernails down both sides of his face, scoring it deeply.
He shrieked, and the pressure on her throat lessened.
A trickle of sweet-tasting air entered her lungs. The blackness crowding her mind receded. She heard the thud of a fist slamming into soft flesh.
Tilden grunted. His body arched back. His fingers went slack, and she was free.
She swayed, unable to catch her balance.
“I’ve got you,” Theo said, his arm coming around her waist.
She grabbed him in return, steadying herself as Tyler yanked Tilden’s hands behind his back.
Chalmers ran up with a length of twine. When he tied Tilden’s wrists with an excess number of wraps and knots, Julia decided her clerk had earned a little leniency. Once everything settled down, she would confront him about his betrayal and give him the choice of shaping up or leaving. Feeling generous, she would do the same for Jacques.
Tilden swore, struggling against the bonds and causing himself more pain.
She looked away from the eight trails of blood that inscribed his face. Injuring another human being sickened her, but she was not sorry about it. He had forced her to do what was necessary to save herself.
“Mrs. MacLean,” Chalmers said, “I telephoned Marshal Landis and sent for the doctor.”
“Thank—” She cleared her sore throat. “Thank you, Mr. Chalmers,” she said, speaking softly.
“You’d best sit down.” Theo gently led her to the red velvet banquette. “You’ll get your strength back quicker.”
She gratefully accepted his suggestion and let him lower her to the seat. Muffie jumped up beside her, laying her little body against her thigh.
Dr. Dolan arrived moments later, examined her throat, and sent Theo to the kitchen for a linen towel filled with chipped ice. “You’re lucky, Julia. There’s some swelling and redness, but no permanent damage. However, you will have bruises almost as colorful as your husband’s back.”
She tentatively touched her raw skin. “I can hide them with my high-necked shirtwaists. No one will see them.”
“Alex will, once he’s set free,” the doctor said. “He won’t be pleased that you’ve been hurt.”
“He can’t see this. Not yet. I have to change. But I must go to him. Last night I let him down.” She started to get up, glancing toward the front entrance, then the stairs to her apartment, then the entrance again.
Dr. Dolan pushed her back down. “Julia, take a breath. You’re flustered. I don’t want you putting yourself in the same state of hysteria that you did in my office.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. A man just tried to kill you with his bare hands. Breathe.”
A barrage of tremors struck her like aftershocks from an earthquake. She wished the doctor hadn’t spoken so plainly. She breathed.
“That’s better. Alex isn’t going anywhere for the moment. Let’s hear what Tilden has to say for himself. Marshal Landis is coming in now.”
Tom Landis raced into the lobby, his booted footsteps pounding the floor. His gaze darted from Tyler holding Tilden captive to her and the doctor.
Tom came to an abrupt halt before her. “Thank the Lord,” he said, panting. “From the way Chalmers sounded on the telephone, I was afraid you might be … well, never mind what I thought. I’m very glad you’re all right, Julia.”
“So am I.” She had too much to do before dying, namely, getting her husband out of jail and telling him how much she loved him.
Tyler steered his captive closer, but not close enough that the bellboy could reach her in any way.
Calmer, she smiled at Tyler, obliged to him for his well-placed punch.
Marshal Landis grimaced as he took in Tilden’s face. “Looks like he’s wearing Indian war paint. Are you responsible for that, Julia?”
She bit her lip. “Yes. I had no choice.”
Tilden shot her a venomous look, but she refused to let him frighten her, or at least see that he frightened her.
Muffie growled at him.
Tom chuckled. “Looks to me like he deserved it. Nice going.”
She did not thank him for the compliment.
“Marshal,” the doctor said, “after I’ve seen to Julia, I’ll clean and dress his facial wounds.”
“Good,” Tom said. “Not that he deserves your ministration.”
Theo arrived with the ice-filled linen towel, and Dr. Dolan arranged it around her neck. “Hold that in place,” he told her.
She did as ordered. The cold felt wonderful against her sore flesh.
“Now tell me what happened here,” the marshal said. “How did it start?�
�
Tyler explained how she had been asking Theo to watch after Muffie. “The dog attacked Tilden.”
Julia said in a soft voice, “Muffie seemed intent on something in his pocket, but Tilden refused to show it to us. Suddenly his hands were around my throat.”
The marshal patted the bellboy’s pockets, slid his fingers into one, and brought out a glittering diamond bracelet. “Very pretty.”
Muffie stood up and yipped.
“Why, that’s Mrs. Hensley’s bracelet,” Julia said. “She wore it all the time. It proves Tilden was the one who killed her, not Alex.”
Tom rubbed at his mustache with one hand while admiring the bracelet in the other. He didn’t seem ready to concede Alex’s innocence quite yet. Julia considered strangling some sense into him, then chose a more sensible course. She fastened her gaze on the bellboy. If he confessed, there would be no question.
“Did you kill her for the bracelet, Tilden?”
“Hell no!” he exploded. “You stupid woman, that was a bonus.”
She ignored his insult as Tom deposited the bracelet into his uniform’s shirt pocket and took out a small notepad and pencil. “Then why?”
His lips curled back into a snarl. “To make you suffer and get MacLean out of the way. I saw him arguing with the old hag, and it was perfect. He’d botched my plans once too often. I wasn’t going to let it happen again.” He struggled against Tyler’s hold, bending toward her. “You needed to die. You should’ve died when I threw the flowerpot.” Hatred poured out of him.
She leaned back, but there was no getting away from it. Muffie whined, and Julia stroked her little body, trying to soothe them both.
Tyler gave the bellboy a shake. “What did she ever do to you?”
“Not just her. Her father, too. Lloyd Fairbanks.”
Tyler exchanged a puzzled look with her.
“What are you talking about?” Tyler demanded.
Tilden spat onto the floor. “He stole my woman!”
“Tilden, you’re not making sense,” she said. “What woman?”
“Harriet! Harriet Lincoln! She was mine. He had no right to take her from me.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Harriet? How could you have possibly known my stepmother? She died more than a year before you started working here.”
“She was my girl back in New York. She knew I loved her. I showed her how much after I caught her talking to another man.” Tilden smiled like a feral cat. “That fellow had to find himself some new teeth.” His smile turned brittle. “But I landed in prison for it.”
Julia now understood the reason for Harriet’s warnings about being too friendly with a man. “She came all the way to San Diego to get away from you, didn’t she?”
He twisted his shoulders, rocking his bound hands from side to side. “We loved each other. I had to have her back. But after I got out, I couldn’t find her. I spent months searching.” He growled out his words. “Her trail finally led me here, but by then she was dead and I could never have her back.” He spat at her.
Julia threw up her arm. His phlegm fell short, splattering at her feet.
Tyler yanked him back a step. “Stop it.”
Tilden’s malevolent gaze never wavered from her face. “You and your father stole her from me, and you both had to pay. Once he hired me, I had access to the both of you. I patiently planned your deaths, laughing the whole time. No one suspected a thing. I could do away with you whenever I wanted, even making it look like an accident. Nobody’d ever be the wiser.”
“But my father ruined your plans by dying ahead of schedule, didn’t he?”
Tilden howled with laughter.
She looked to Tyler, but he shrugged his shoulders, as puzzled as she.
Tom Landis grabbed the front of the bellboy’s uniform. “What’s so funny?”
Tilden grinned. “She thinks her father died of natural causes.”
“He did,” she said, her stomach tightening. “Of a heart attack.”
Tilden laughed again. “His heart stopped all right. Some poisons cause that, you know.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth and fell back against the banquette. He had murdered her father, and she had never once questioned his death. In fact, she had blamed herself for aggravating him with her desire to help run the hotel. She should have questioned his death, should have done something.
Tilden’s continued laughter echoed throughout the Rotunda until Tyler punched him in the back again, cutting the bellboy’s laughter short.
“That’s for killing my father before I could meet him,” Tyler said.
Tilden grimaced and coughed several times.
Julia couldn’t blame Tyler for his feelings. “Tilden, why did you wait so long after my father’s death to make your first attempt on my life? Or was there an attempt before the flowerpot?” Had he tried to poison her, too?
He smiled. “I did wait. I liked the anticipation. I especially liked imagining all the scenarios that would lead to your death. In the meantime, I hoped to witness your downfall. No woman has the right to operate a hotel. I wanted to witness your embarrassment and humiliation as you brought the Hotel Grand Victoria to ruin. When it didn’t happen, I knew it was time to take matters back into my own hands.” He started laughing again.
A shudder rippled through Julia’s body as she remembered the feel of his hands around her throat. She longed for Alex and his enfolding arms to wrap her in his embrace, the one place she felt truly safe, protected from evil.
Chapter Eighteen
Alex lay on his cot, breathing through his mouth to avoid the reeking odors of unwashed men and dried urine. He supposed he should try to get used to the smells, but that would mean giving up, and he couldn’t do that. He had too much to live for, if Julia could forgive him.
Loud, booted footsteps hammered the iron balcony outside the row of cells. Keys jangled.
“MacLean!”
He sat up, his pulse suddenly racing.
A uniformed guard holding a ring of keys strode into view and stopped in front of his cell door. “Stand up, turn around, and hands behind your back.”
He didn’t move. “What’s going on?”
The guard pinned him with a fierce look. “Shut your mouth and do as you’re told.”
Out of self-preservation, he followed orders. In Baltimore’s jail, he had seen firsthand how much some guards enjoyed their position of power.
“That’s better,” the guard said. Metal clanked against metal as he unlocked and opened the door, then fitted a pair of handcuffs around Alex’s wrists. “Now turn around and start walking. Slowly.”
Alex walked. Slowly. Behind him, the door clanged shut. The guard followed and poked him in the shoulder, prompting him down the flight of stairs. A slight shove turned him down a bare hallway.
“In there.” The man motioned toward an open door with a small window in it.
Alex hesitated. Was he about to be interrogated? If they expected him to confess, they had another think coming. He would not admit to a crime he didn’t commit.
The guard gave him a shove, and Alex stumbled, grimacing, into a simply furnished room. A scarred wooden table and four equally scarred chairs marked the center of it. A single gas lamp hung from the ceiling, casting a light that didn’t even reach the corners of the small room.
“Wait in here.” The guard locked him in.
Several minutes later the door opened. The warden stood on its threshold, studied him, and stepped back out of sight.
Julia took his place, framed by the doorway.
Alex wanted to run to her. The urge to throw his arms around her nearly overwhelmed him, but the shackles biting into his wrists stopped him, giving him time to remember their last painful moments together. She had not believed in his claim of innocence. She had not believed in him.
Though his feet remained rooted to the floor, he swept his gaze over her from top to bottom, reassuring himself that she was unharmed and he had been worr
ying needlessly.
She wore a gray skirt, matching jacket, and high-necked pink shirtwaist. Her ash-blond hair was piled stylishly atop her head. Blue eyes shone in the flawless perfection of her creamy skin. She took a step toward him. Her scent, orange blossoms in the spring, drifted across the room, cleansing Alex of all the rank smells that had assailed him since his arrival. She was spring itself, and her beauty in this dreary place brightened everything around her.
He could have looked at her indefinitely.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she took in their surroundings and his striped prison garb.
“I hope you didn’t come alone.”
“No. Tyler is waiting for me in the warden’s office.”
“Good.” He was glad, but it should have been him watching over her. She was his wife, the woman he loved.
The warden, a short man whose frock coat strained over his belly, edged around her. He swung a ring of jingling keys like the one the guard carried.
“I’ll take off those handcuffs for you, MacLean,” he said. “Just don’t try anything stupid.”
Alex wasn’t sure he wanted them off now. Julia was so beautiful, and he felt as if he hadn’t seen her in weeks instead of hours. He wanted to touch her, hold her, confess everything to her, and make love to her, but he was still a prisoner accused of murder.
With several clicks, the warden removed the handcuffs. “Mrs. MacLean, if you need anything, a guard will be posted outside the door.”
Alex heard what the man left unspoken, that if she felt threatened, she need only scream and help would come running.
“Thank you, Warden,” she said. “I have nothing to fear from my husband. All I ask is some privacy with him.”
Alex felt his heart give a hopeful leap. She wasn’t afraid to be alone with him.
“As you wish.” The warden retreated and locked the door behind him.
Alex stayed on the far side of the small room.
Julia barely glanced at him. She seemed to be studying the ravaged tabletop while playing with a fold in her skirt. The high, ruffled collar around her neck must have been scratching her because she readjusted it. “Have they treated you all right?” she finally asked.