by Deeanne Gist
“Thank you, Mrs. Lockhart,” Shirley said, gently interrupting. “As Mrs. McCabe pointed out earlier, jealousy can, indeed, be a powerful motivator. Mrs. Vandervoort? I believe I saw your hand next.”
Essie listened as each woman had an idea for motive, and as the list lengthened, her optimism wavered. The possibilities were endless, but of all those presented, none were as compelling as the motives assigned to Tony.
“Last one,” Shirley said.
Anna Morgan rose. “I believe that there is one motive we are overlooking, and that would be my motive.”
The women stilled.
“Darius was forcing me into a marriage I did not want. I had just as much motive to kill him as Tony did. Anyone who knows our family well knows that Tony and I are very close. If something were to happen to Darius, and Tony were to inherit, that would solve all my worries.”
Ewing jumped to his feet. “Miss Morgan, though your hypothesis sounds reasonable at first, there isn’t a soul who would actually believe you capable of such a thing. The idea is ridiculous.”
“No more ridiculous than believing Tony did it.”
Ewing scowled at Shirley. “I will not permit that ludicrous supposition to be entered into the minutes.”
“If we are going to do this right, the list needs to be thorough,” Anna argued. “Keep it in the books.”
Essie glanced back and forth between the two.
Shirley cleared her throat. “There are no right or wrong suggestions, Preacher Wortham.”
“Then I did it!” he said, slamming his fist against his chest.
Mrs. Bogart gasped.
“Don’t be absurd, Ewing,” Anna said. “You’d never even met Darius before Friday.”
“Well, I can tell you this: I don’t want you to marry that old boiler you’re betrothed to. So that gives me just as much motive as you, now, doesn’t it?”
Anna’s features softened. “You don’t want me to marry Mr. Tubbs?”
“Well, of course I don’t.”
She bit her lower lip. “Well, I don’t believe I’ll have to.”
Ewing blinked in confusion. Essie smiled.
Shirley folded her arms. “Are you two quite through?”
After a slight hesitation, Anna nodded, slid a hand beneath her skirts and sat. Befuddled, Ewing plopped down beside her.
“Now,” Shirley continued, “I suggest we try to gather a bit of evidence based on some of these suggestions. Mrs. Blanchard? Let’s start from the top and begin making assignments.”
The secretary stood. “Number one. Someone who worked for him or who had unsatisfactory business dealings with him.”
Shirley tapped the lectern with her fingernail. “That’s going to be difficult. We’ll need access to Mr. Morgan’s personal files and records.” She looked at Anna. “Would that be something you or your mother could get your hands on somehow?”
“Yes,” Anna said. “That part would be easy. We simply take a train back to Beaumont and raid Darius’s desk. The problem will be what to do with the papers once we have them. Neither Mother nor I would know where to begin.”
“Essie?” Shirley asked. “You would be able to, wouldn’t you?”
“Perhaps,” Essie said. “But is there any reason we can’t have Tony go through them? He’s apt to be much more familiar with the Morgan ventures.”
“Excellent idea. And it would make him look less guilty and more a martyr to have him resort to doing his work within the cell.”
“I agree,” said Mrs. Zimpelman. “As a matter of fact, I recommend he also continue his work for Sullivan Oil. The men he oversees could go to him daily with their reports and for their assignments.”
“Will the sheriff allow that, do you think, Mrs. Dunn?” Shirley asked.
Aunt Verdie smiled. “You leave the sheriff to me.”
Ewing stood. “That’s all well and good, but Miss Morgan and her mother cannot do what you ask of them. If the murderer really is a business acquaintance, he will not allow these women to simply walk off with the evidence. No, the scheme is much too dangerous.”
“Oh dear,” Shirley said, then looked at Anna. “Don’t you have a cousin who could escort you?”
Anna shook her head. “Finch is determined to stay here. He doesn’t think Sheriff Dunn and Judge Spreckelmeyer will be impartial and he wants to make sure ‘Tony gets his due.’ So we wouldn’t want Finch to accompany us or even to hear of our plans. He’s very loyal to Darius.”
“But all the Morgan papers are rightfully Tony’s,” Essie said. “Your cousin wouldn’t have any choice in the matter.”
“It would still be best to keep our plans to ourselves.”
“I’ll go with them,” Ewing said.
Essie lifted her brows.
“Not only can I provide them with escort and protection,” he said, “but I can help them carry the documents back here.”
“That’s very generous of you, Preacher Wortham,” Shirley said. “Thank you. Mrs. Blanchard? What’s the next motive on our list?”
“Jealous husband.”
“Oh my.” Shirley scanned the crowd. “Miss Morgan? Can you or your mother shed any light here?”
“I’m afraid not,” Anna said. “Darius was not stepping out with anyone. As far as him seeing someone he oughtn’t, I’m afraid I have no idea about that.”
Mrs. Lockhart rose. “I have a daughter in Beaumont. I will contact her and see if I can determine who Mr. Morgan’s romantic interests were.”
By the end of the hour, several women had been assigned a motive to investigate. The rest compiled a schedule for delivering meals to Tony.
Before the meeting adjourned, all members pledged themselves to secrecy. Even Aunt Verdie and Ewing. In order to keep the women’s plans from being hindered, the menfolk needed to be kept in the dark.
As the meeting broke up, Essie stayed in her seat and looked down at her ring. A ring worn for over four decades by another woman, yet even still it sparkled. She wiggled her finger, allowing the sunlight to catch in the diamond’s prisms.
Somewhere long, long ago, this stone had been nothing more than a lump buried in the ground. But with hard work and great perseverance, it was mined, cleaned, cut and polished. Then treasured by the woman who wore it.
And now the man God had prepared for Essie had placed it on her finger. A good man. An honest man. A man who’d been forsaken by his father.
But he would not be forsaken this time. Not by her. Not by his friends. And not by his heavenly Father.
She stood. There was work to be done and she aimed to do her share.
chapter TWENTY-NINE
M.C. BAKER stepped into the jailhouse. “Howdy, Sheriff. I’m here to see Morgan.”
Melvin slapped his pen on the desk, splattering ink all over his papers. Tony’d had more visitors in the last two days than any one prisoner in the history of Melvin’s entire tenure as sheriff. He’d spent so much time letting folks in and out of Tony’s cell that he hadn’t accomplished one single thing.
Grabbing up the keys, he strode to the back of the building. Tony sat behind an old table, pen and ink in hand, lantern sputtering in the breeze. Melvin couldn’t believe he’d let Verdie talk him into allowing all that stuff into Tony’s lockup. She never interfered with his work. Never. Until now.
Yet Verdie and every other woman in town was treating Morgan as if he were a native Corsicanan or something. And it was all due to the fact that he was Essie’s betrothed. Melvin had at first figured the women would try to convince Essie to break the betrothal. Instead, they’d aimed their displeasure at him, the man who had kept them safe and secure for the past three decades.
Oh, he didn’t think Tony had done the killing. He’d merely lost his temper back at the Spreckelmeyers’ house and as a result had treated the boy a bit harshly. Still, he couldn’t outright ignore the evidence that pointed to him or it would bring down censure from every man in town and many of those in the state’s capital. That mig
ht be preferable, however, to the censure of the women of the Corsicana Velocipede Club.
He drove his fingers through what was left of his hair. If he had any prayer of finding out who did the actual killing, though, he was gonna have to be allowed to get some work done.
Unlocking the cell, he jerked it open and scowled at his prisoner.
“I’m getting mighty tired of jumping up and down like a jack-inthe-box every other minute. If’n I leave this durn thing open, will you stay put?”
The average person might have missed the momentary surprise on Tony’s face, but Melvin had made a career of watching for subtle nuances in a man’s expression.
“Yes, sir,” Tony answered. “I give you my word.”
Melvin nodded once. “Well, all right, then.” He turned to Baker. “Go on. Everybody else has.”
Baker entered the cell and began to review the day’s business with Tony.
Melvin returned to his desk and looked over his notes. A vast number of the folks who had entered town for the bicycle race had left, leaving behind the locals and the oilmen. For all he knew, the killer had come and gone, too. But until he knew for sure, he’d do everything he could to piece together what had happened. He didn’t want to be known as the sheriff who’d allowed the killer of one of the wealthiest men in Texas to get away without a trace. He also didn’t want Essie’s fiancé hung if he wasn’t the guilty party.
He again examined the list of every guest at the Welcome Reception, where Tony’d left his knife, along with every employee of the Commercial Hotel. He’d questioned the men who’d attended the reception, particularly Mudge, who’d been knocked out of the race by Darius’s man.
But after the race, Mudge had nursed his disappointment in Rosenburg’s Saloon and passed out, spending the whole of the night in plain view. The other men in the race had plenty of folks confirming how they’d spent their evening, as well. Melvin scratched through name after name on the guest list. Those who had a motive didn’t have an opportunity, and those who had an opportunity didn’t have a motive.
He had a few more people at the Commercial Hotel he wanted to talk with, though. Not only the ones who were working the night of the reception, but those who’d discovered Darius’s body in his room early that morning. He also wanted to find out if anyone had seen Darius’s sister and mother coming or going during the time in question.
Baker bid good-bye to Tony, then tipped his hat to Melvin before leaving. Darkness fell and crickets took to serenading his small office.
Melvin turned up the flame of his lantern. “So what do you think, Morgan? Anything new occur to you as far as your brother’s concerned?”
Tony looked up from his papers. “I really don’t know what to think, Sheriff. My mother and sister brought a bunch of Darius’s papers back from Beaumont today and I’ve been studying them. Everything looks to be in order. He’s let go of an employee here and there, but nothing that would incite a person to murder.”
“How recently have those folks been dismissed?”
“Since my father’s death at the beginning of the summer.”
Melvin nodded. “Well, make me a list of their names and I’ll send it over to the sheriff of Jefferson County and have him look into it.”
Howard walked in, saw the cell door open and quickly palmed his gun. “What’s goin’ on?”
Melvin shook his head. “Put your gun away before somebody gets hurt. I was just tired of opening and closing his cell a hundred times, so I decided to leave it open.”
Keeping his gun trained on Tony, Howard stealthily made his way to the back of the office. Tony lifted his hands.
“Would you put that thing away?” Melvin repeated.
Howard ignored him until he had the cell door firmly closed and locked. Releasing the hammer on his pistol, he returned it to his gun belt. “Seems a mite careless to leave his door open like that, Sheriff.”
Shrugging, Melvin stood. “Suit yourself. Now that you’re here, though, I’m gonna make a run over to the Commercial.”
“You find out something new?”
“Nope. Just snoopin’. I’ll be back directly.” Grabbing his hat, he strode through the door.
Essie stepped into the sheriff’s office, then stopped cold at seeing Deputy Howard alone with Tony. Her hands grew clammy. For the past two days, she’d wrestled with herself about whether or not to tell Tony about Howard’s threats and the reason behind them. But that was a discussion she preferred to have in private. Something sorely lacking under the present circumstances.
She’d debated telling her father or even Uncle Melvin but found that for the first time in a long, long while, it wasn’t either of them she wanted to share her troubles with. Instead, she wanted to go to another man. Her man.
She smiled at him through her worries and he rose to his feet. Circles shadowed his eyes and some color had faded from his sunwashed skin.
“I’ve brought you a little something to eat,” she said.
Howard stepped around his desk. “Why, thank you, Essie. I appreciate that.”
She stiffened. “I was talking to Mr. Morgan.”
Hitching up his trousers, Howard sauntered over to her. “Well, I don’t reckon he’s hungry right now. Them women from yer bicycle club have been making sure he’s the best-fed fella in all of Navarro County. Me, on the other hand, I’ve not had me so much as a bite to eat since noon.” He stepped into her space. “You got something fer me, Essie?”
“My name is Miss Spreckelmeyer.”
He lifted the corner of the napkin covering her basket. She swatted his hand.
“Easy, now. I was only taking a peek.” He lowered his voice to a level Tony wouldn’t be able to hear. “But I don’t mind waiting, Essie. It is Tuesday, after all, and if’n you wanna give me a peek of what you got later on tonight, well, that’s just fine by me.”
“Step aside,” she said.
“Not just yet, sweetheart.” He grasped the napkin and whipped it off. “I can’t let you take that into his cell without making sure of its contents. Wouldn’t want you to slip our prisoner a weapon or nothin’.” He rifled through the basket, then picked up a peach and took a bite out of it. “Ummm. That tastes mighty sweet. You sure you wanna waste all your sweet stuff on him?”
She slipped out from between Howard and the wall, then walked over to her uncle’s desk and snatched up the keys.
Howard followed and grabbed her wrist. “I’m not sure you should be goin’ in there. The prisoner might be dangerous and I’d hate for something to happen that would, um, compromise you in the town’s eyes.”
“I believe I’ll take my chances,” she said, shaking off his grip.
Howard smiled, removing the keys from her grasp. “That’s what I’m countin’ on, girl. That’s what I’m countin’ on.”
Tony stood at the bars, frowning as he looked at the two of them.
“Get back,” Howard said, approaching him.
Tony moved to the back of the cubicle. Howard opened the door, then locked it behind Essie when she stepped inside.
Instead of returning to his desk, though, Howard leaned a shoulder against the cell and ran his finger along one of the bars.
“Would you excuse us, please?” she said.
“Don’t mind me, Miss Spreckelmeyer. I’m only doing my job and standing guard. Just carry on. You know, like you would if nobody was around to see.”
His words hung in the air and she didn’t know what to say or do. She couldn’t tell Tony about Adam with the deputy standing there. And she couldn’t not tell him, either.
“Maybe I should come back when Uncle Melvin’s here,” she said to Tony.
He took her hand and pulled her to the other side of the table.
Putting his back to Howard, he leaned against the table, his broad form blocking her from the deputy’s view.
“What is going on?”
“Long story,” she whispered.
“You’re gonna need to speak up,” How
ard said. “I can’t hear ya. Unless, of course, you want me to join you.” His chuckle made her skin crawl.
Tony studied her a moment. “Your uncle’s at the Commercial Hotel,” he said quietly. “Find out when he’ll be here and come back then. And from now on, only come when he’s here.”
Her shoulders wilted. “But I don’t want to go. I just got here.”
“Quit your whispering,” Howard said.
She heard the keys rattle in the lock. “Here,” she said, handing Tony the basket of food. “I’ll be back later.”
He squeezed her hand. “I love you.”
Howard threw open the door.
Essie hustled around the table. “Thank you, Deputy. I’m ready to leave now.” She sailed through the door of the cell and out of the office before he had a chance to waylay her.
Essie waited until nearly midnight, then made her way to the sheriff’s office, careful to stay under the cover of the wooded areas, even though it was a more circuitous route. She knew it was the deputy’s turn to spend the night at the jailhouse. She also knew he’d be slipping out in hopes of meeting her behind her house.
With any luck at all, his absence would give her enough time to tell Tony everything. About Howard blackmailing her. About Adam. About her past.
Give me the strength, Lord. Give me the words.
The jailhouse was dark when she arrived.
“Who’s there?” Tony said when she opened the door.
“It’s me.” She struck a match and lit the lantern on Melvin’s desk.
Tony rose from his cot, his hair tousled. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
“Has something happened?”
“Howard’s blackmailing me.” She grabbed the keys to the cell.
“No,” Tony said. “Don’t open the door. If someone were to come in, I don’t want them to think you’re trying to bust me outta here or, worse, that we were doing something that would compromise your reputation. Just leave those where they are and we’ll talk through the bars.”