Love Almost Lost

by Irene B. Brand

  “The snake, you mean?”

  Ellen nodded, but realizing he couldn’t see her head, she said, “Yes.”

  “You’d better tell me what has happened.”

  “Earlier today, I received a threatening note, and the only signature was a drawing of a cobra.” She repeated the words of the note that felt heavy as lead inside her blouse. When she mentioned the telephone call, Lane stopped the car, and she turned on the light and handed him the note.

  After a rapid scrutiny, he handed the note back to her, turned off the light, and drove on.

  “Blacky Hollister uses a cobra for his signature.”

  “That Columbus gangster! Oh, Lane, I’m afraid.”

  “And so you should be. Why has he started in on you?”

  “I have no idea, and probably I shouldn’t have told you, but if this is Hollister’s doings, I’d be sure to invite death if I said anything to the police. Besides, adding to my worries, I found the entrance to that underground room today.”

  He laughed shortly. “You have had a busy day.”

  Throwing caution to the wind, she told him everything that had happened from the time Warren first came to see her.

  “I don’t know whether to tell Warren about that stairway or not, or if I’m better off to ignore it. What do you think?”

  “There are two possibilities here. One is for you to leave right now, without even going back to the house, and try to slip out of the country. You have enough money to travel incognito for several months until we solve what’s going on here. That’s what you should do, but there is another alternative—a dangerous one.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “If you act as a decoy, we might be able to wind up this business soon.”

  Ellen hesitated. She knew the better part of wisdom was to disappear, but if she did that, what about the danger to Fannie, to Lane, to others?

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hollister is a big-time gangster involved in all sorts of things. Federal agents are trying to nab him for bootlegging. There must be some connection between the still at Arrowwood and Hollister’s message to you. We’re probably dealing with two groups of gangsters. Henderson and Thurman are members of one gang, and they know how to get into the underground room. Hollister and his men don’t know how, and they want the moonshine.”

  “That sounds plausible, but how are we going to catch them?”

  “You could pretend to cooperate with Hollister until we see what he wants. If he sets up a meeting, I could go with you.”

  “I doubt he’ll accept that, but I won’t go alone.”

  “I’m not publicly recognized as a revenue agent, so I don’t think he’ll be suspicious of me.”

  “Warren will be angry if he finds out I withheld information from him.”

  “I have as much authority in arresting bootleggers as he does. We shouldn’t tell anyone what we’re doing.”

  “All right, I’ll do it. I won’t run out and leave these problems to the rest of you. I wish, though, that I hadn’t let Warren talk me into having that party.”

  “Maybe it’s just as well to have that as a ploy. Most people wouldn’t expect you to plan a party and be negotiating with gangsters at the same time.”

  “How will I contact you if I receive another message?”

  “I’ll drop by every evening. If you have a message, suggest we go for a drive. Otherwise, I’ll just visit with you and Fannie.” As they parted at Arrowwood, he said quietly, “Be careful, Ellen.”

  Ellen’s dreams were troubled, but the night passed uneventfully. She went into Daltonville early to pick up the mail, and she breathed easier when she didn’t have another message, but she looked closely at a letter addressed to Bruce. The envelope looked identical to the one she’d received, but the postmark was smudged and she couldn’t tell the origin of the letter. She was half-tempted to open the envelope, but she didn’t, and as she returned to Arrowwood, she remembered something Warren had said about Bruce double-crossing the wrong guys. Did this confirm a connection between her stepson and Blacky Hollister?

  Bruce waited on the front porch, and he snatched the letter out of her hand and walked into the house without a word. Had he been receiving these letters regularly? She decided it was time to have a talk with Bruce, and she followed him into the drawing room.

  He stared at her moodily. The letter wasn’t in sight.

  “Bruce, how much did you know about your father’s business?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he parroted a childish phrase.

  “Don’t you realize that all of us are in danger? Unless the police can solve these crimes, and soon, there may be other deaths. They know Timothy was a racketeer, and I believe you have information that could help.”

  “Maybe we can make a trade. You cough up the ten grand I need, and I’ll sing like a bird.”

  “I’m not giving you any money. Have you ever considered going to work instead of gambling? If you can’t get along on the interest from your trust fund, you should get a job. But if you’re in trouble, you should tell what you know.”

  He turned a startled gaze upon her. “What makes you think I’m in trouble?”

  “Why else would you be hanging around Arrowwood? This isn’t the kind of life you like. You’re hiding out from gangsters or your creditors. You don’t have any claim to this house, and I want you to leave.”

  He didn’t respond, and the expression on his face bothered Ellen as she went upstairs. He looked haunted, and she had a moment of remorse, but she shrugged it off. He had to learn to accept responsibility for his own problems. She had enough of her own, but that didn’t stop her from feeling sorry for the man and the mess he’d made of his life.

  Ellen found her instructions when she entered her car the next morning. Propped up in the driver’s seat was another white envelope. Hadn’t she locked the car when she parked it yesterday? She felt momentary panic as she opened the letter.

  If you’re willing to play ball, drive into the county seat tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. Park your car for fifteen minutes in front of the courthouse.

  A cobra, with flat head and fangs extended ready to attack, was drawn on the paper.

  Ellen waited on the portico when Lane arrived that evening, and without giving him a chance to get out, she ran down the steps and into his truck. When she told him of her message, he asked, “Who could have put it in the car?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure I locked the car last night. I don’t like the idea that someone connected with Blacky Hollister is around Arrowwood.”

  “Could Bruce have put it there?”

  “Possibly,” she said, remembering the letter Bruce had received.

  “Are you going?”

  “I guess I’ll have to, but what if this is a trick to tamper with my car? Warren thinks that’s what caused Timothy’s car to wreck.”

  “I’ll go into the county seat early in the morning, and I’ll watch your car. If anyone bothers it, I’ll stop you before you get in.”

  Ellen’s mood was desperate after she went to bed. Where could she turn to for the peace of mind she needed? Where could she find the guidance she needed? She faced a dangerous situation. She looked at the Bible beside her bed. Reverend Truett had taught that there was no problem too big for God, and that the answer to any problem could be found in the Bible. Ellen shook her head skeptically. Reverend Truett could say that, for he believed that God ruled the world, and that right would ultimately overcome evil, but, though once Ellen would have agreed with him, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Thoughtfully, Ellen prepared for bed, and seeing that it was fifteen minutes before the lights went off, she picked up the Bible. She checked the concordance to find passages that confirmed Reverend Truett’s beliefs.

  “Behold the heaven and the heaven of heavens is the Lord’s thy God, the earth also, with all that therein is. Both riches and honour come of thee, and thou reignest over all; and
in thine hand is power and might; and in thine hand it is to make great, and to give strength unto all.”

  She had enough respect for Reverend Truett’s judgment to believe this was true, but where could she find peace of mind and guidance? Or did God even hear her pleas anymore? She turned to the New Testament. Was there some prerequisite before she could experience God’s forgiveness? A verse in the book of Ephesians troubled her conscience. “And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.”

  If she had to forgive everyone who had wronged her before God forgave her, she didn’t believe she would ever be reconciled to God. The hurts inflicted by the people of Daltonville had pierced too deeply. And what about her dislike of Margaret and Bruce?

  But she did believe in the mercy of God, and flipping through the pages of the Psalms, she found comfort and assurance in the words of David. “For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive; and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee. Give ear, O Lord, unto my prayer; and attend to the voice of my supplications. In the day of my trouble I will call upon thee: for thou wilt answer me.”

  The words convinced Ellen that she needed to do a lot of forgiving before she found the fellowship she’d once known with God. Instead of expecting her childhood acquaintances to ask for her forgiveness, was she obliged to ask them to forgive her? How humbling to realize that her disintegrating faith hadn’t been caused by the people of Daltonville, but by her own unforgiving spirit.

  ❧

  “Ellen, I don’t know why you persist in driving around by yourself,” Fannie protested the next morning when Ellen started out.

  “I’m only going to the county seat, and I’ll be back by lunchtime.”

  Ellen arrived in the county seat a few minutes before ten and maneuvered the Rolls into a parallel position in front of the courthouse. The note hadn’t said if she should leave the car, but she walked down the street to a variety store. Looking at her watch every two or three minutes, she thought a quarter hour would never pass. She bought a package of hairpins for Fannie, three handkerchiefs for herself, and she hovered over the cosmetic counter, mischievously contemplating buying Thompson a package of red hair dye. She had noticed yesterday that the red was fading.

  By the time she returned to the car, thirty minutes had passed, and she dreaded what she might find. The car was empty, and there wasn’t a note, although she’d left the doors conveniently unlocked. She looked around for Lane, but she saw no sign of him either.

  She sat in the car five minutes before she started it, and when Lane didn’t show up, she felt the car must be safe. Puzzled, she returned to Arrowwood to find the message propped on her dresser in a white envelope similar to the others she’d received. The message was simple:

  Place: Big Bertha’s, Columbus

  Time: July 25

  Password: A cobra spits in your eye

  Ellen tucked the note in her pocket and set out to find Fannie.

  “Anyone been around here this morning?”

  “Just the usual.”

  So that meant the Herns, the cook, the maid, and Thompson. Nor could she rule out the Hendersons, who might slip in without being seen. And if she’d found the way in and out of the underground room, others may have learned the secret and could enter her house at any time. It was a scary situation.

  Lane was late arriving that night, and while Ellen sat on the portico waiting for him, Thompson joined her. They sat in silence as Ellen watched lightning bugs flitting around the terraced lawn.

  “Going out again tonight?” Thompson said as the sound of Lane’s old auto heralded his arrival.

  “Yes. I get the fidgets around here all the time. I don’t enjoy my houseguests.”

  “Bruce causing you any more trouble?”

  “Well, yes, you might say that.”

  When the car came in sight, Thompson disappeared around the side of the house. When Lane pulled up in front of the portico, Ellen ran down the steps to meet him.

  “No one approached your car this morning,” Lane said after they passed the gatehouse. “Maybe someone knew I was watching.”

  “Sending me to the county seat was a trick to lure me away from Arrowwood. The instructions were on my dresser when I returned.”

  He turned to stare at her, halting the car momentarily.

  “Do you think Bruce did it?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m sure he received a letter from the same source a few days ago.”

  “If he’s in debt to Hollister, maybe he’s being forced to stay at Arrowwood to deliver these messages. He may be a spy.”

  “That’s possible, but he seldom leaves the place. He apparently doesn’t have enough money to buy gasoline or booze. Otherwise, he’d be running around.”

  “Are you going to Big Bertha’s?”

  “It’s a speakeasy, I suppose.”

  “I’m sure of it, although I’ve never heard of that particular one.”

  “Will you go with me? The note didn’t say to come alone.”

  “We’ll have to stay overnight in Columbus. Most of those joints don’t open until evening or late afternoon.”

  “Then we’d better take Fannie along for propriety, and it will also throw Thompson and Warren off the scent. Warren hasn’t been around for several days. As shrewd as he is, he’d soon suspect that I’m up to something.”

  “The twenty-fifth is day after tomorrow.”

  “That won’t give me much time to worry about it. We’ll go in the Cadillac, if you want to drive.”

  “Sure. I’ll like riding in luxury for a change.”

  “What kind of excuse should I give for going? I hope we get away before Warren shows up, but I’ll have to tell Thompson something.”

  “You’ll come up with some excuse.”

  He paused before they reached the house, and they clung together for a few minutes before he kissed her good-night. When she returned to the house, Ellen passed Thompson, who sat in the seclusion of the portico. She detected his suspicious look, and she doubted if she could come up with anything to satisfy him or Warren about her absence.

  Fannie’s suspicions were obvious when Ellen told her of the proposed trip to Columbus, and even though Ellen knew Fannie didn’t approve of her associations with Lane, Fannie wasn’t about to be left out of something she suspected wasn’t on the up-and-up. Ellen arranged for Annie to sleep in Fannie’s room while they were gone, for she didn’t want anyone snooping around the tunnel entrance, but she didn’t tell Thompson of her intentions in advance since she didn’t want Warren to know about the trip. When her plans with Lane were seemingly opposed to Warren’s, whichever way she turned might be the wrong way. But Warren had had ample opportunity to clear up this crime. Perhaps she and Lane could do that which the marshal couldn’t accomplish.

  Therefore, she was dismayed when Warren arrived at Arrowwood an hour before time for their departure. Bentley was carrying their valises downstairs when Warren knocked on the door, and Ellen admitted him. His keen glance surveyed the luggage, her jersey traveling suit with a striped pullover, rows of pearls, and her two-toned shoes.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “To Columbus.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Fannie and Lane Dalton are going too. We’re not leaving for an hour if you want to come in.”

  He followed her into the living room.

  “Did Thompson know about this?”

  “I didn’t tell him.”

  “Why are you going?”

  “Really, Mr. Warren! Don’t you think you’re overstepping the limits of your office?”

  “Are you and Dalton going to get married?”

  Relieved that Warren’s thoughts had veered on a false track, Ellen laughed aloud and didn’t answer him.

  “Look here, Ellen. I’m not sure I like your running out on me. Your place is here.”

  Ellen gave him her most menacing glare, and her voice t
rembled in anger.

  “Now, you look here! If you intend to control my movements, you can put me in jail. I’m tired—tired, I tell you, of being a prisoner in my own home. I tried to cooperate with you by missing a dream vacation in Europe to come to Arrowwood, and I’ve had a hideous summer. As far as I can tell, you aren’t any nearer to clearing up this mess than you were a month ago. I’ve had enough, and I’m going away for a couple of days. I don’t care whether you like it or not.”

  Warren looked at her speculatively. “Suit yourself. When will you return?”

  “In two or three days.”

  “I’ll talk to you then.”

  Ellen watched his tall form go down the hall, almost tempted to call him back and tell him the whole story. She liked Warren and would have preferred to be working with him, but she wouldn’t choose him over Lane.

  Warren must have told Thompson about her plans, for he soon wandered into the living room, leaned against the door, and favored her with a slight smile.

  “You and the old boyfriend decided to let bygones be bygones?”

  “It seems to me that the United States marshals are taking quite an interest in my personal life. Isn’t it enough that you’ve commandeered my estate? Can’t I even choose my friends without your approval?”

  “My concern has nothing to do with my profession. If you’re getting thick with Dalton, where does that leave us?”

  Ellen wondered if she understood the gist of his remarks. She remembered this man had once given a hint that he was interested in her, but surely. . . “Us, as in you and me?”

  He nodded.

  “You were sent here to protect me this summer, but I certainly haven’t encouraged you to think I had a romantic interest in you.”

  “Not good enough for you, huh?”

  Fannie’s appearance at the door brought an end to the conversation.

  “Ready, Fannie?” Ellen stepped around Thompson, who still stood in the doorway. “I’ll drive into town, and we’ll pick up Lane at his boardinghouse.” Bentley stood by the door, and Ellen told him, “We’ll be back in a couple of days.”

  But Ellen took a long look at Arrowwood as she drove down the lane. Would she live to return here?