Rhys’s gaze skimmed the rascal’s gaudy attire. “I assume from your new clothes that Fridrich has already paid you for submitting yourself to my authority so you could reveal this information to me.”
“Ye might say that, Sheriff, an’ ye just might be right. Knowin’ how eager ye’ve been ta lock me up, I wouldna’ve even considered wanderin’ o’er here if’n I hadn’t gotten enough booty ta make it worth the time I’ll have ta waste in jail. As it stands now, I can looks forward ta something real nice when I gets outa prison. When I told Mr. Fridrich what I seen, he thought I’d give meself o’er ta ye just ta let justice have its due.” Olney snorted derisively at such a farfetched notion. “That’ll be the day, for sure. Took ten thousand ta make me cross yer threshold today. So, here I am, Sheriff, ready ta confess all, my sins as well as those o’ yer friend’s.”
“You know, Olney, I can usually tell when a body is lying. I get this funny feeling in my gut that just won’t settle down until I finally come to the realization that I can’t swallow what’s being told me. Some people lie for the sheer pleasure of it ’cause they’ve got this black rot eating ’em up inside. Preachers might be wont to say that’s the devil taking hold of ’em. Now, we know that the devil has you already tied up and in his bag and is looking for another sucker to catch. What I’m getting at, boy, is if you have any hope of fooling me in this matter for very long, you might want to save your breath, ’cause eventually it’s not going to do you one bit of good. I’ll be catching the murderer in due time with or without your help.”
“I knows what I seen, Sheriff,” the scalawag stated flatly, his eyes purposefully dull as he fixed a level stare upon the sheriff. “An’ it’s the truth whether ye wants ta believe it or not. Now, are ye gonna lends an ear ta hear what I has ta say? Or should I go inform those people out ‘ere that ye don’t want ta listen ta anything mean an’ ugly ’bout yer rich, precious friend?”
“Oh, I’m not against hearing your version of the story, Olney. But know this, I’ll reserve my judgments about Birmingham until I have better proof than your word. Just consider this, if you would. Your conclusions may well be the truth in your opinion, but that may not necessarily be the way things stack up in the long run. Now, if you would, I’d like for you to tell me one thing before you give your eye view of what happened. Can you positively identify the man who chased you out of Birmingham’s stable that night after you witnessed Nell’s murder?”
Olney gaped back at the sheriff in surprise. “How the devil did ye know ’bout that?”
“I’ve got my sources,” Rhys assured him with a bland smile. “You stole Birmingham’s mare to get away from the murderer, didn’t you?”
Olney’s jaw had fallen slack with awe, but sudden suspicion made him squint at the lawman. “Birmin’am say anything ta ye ’bout that?”
“I haven’t talked with Birmingham about this matter since the day after Nell’s murder.” Dropping his gaze to the floor, he contemplated the brigand’s scruffy footwear and smiled wryly. “You left tracks in the paddock outside Birmingham’s stable that were as obvious as a plodding cow’s. If you haven’t noticed before, Olney, you’ve got very wide feet and you have a habit of running your boots over on the sides. There’s no mistaking your footprints.”
Wary skepticism still troubled the face of the curly-headed rogue as he continued to eye the sheriff. “So how do ye knows I was chased out there?”
“Another set of prints made from smaller, fancier boots followed yours at a run, scuffing up your tracks in the paddock. Yours stopped in the spot where you hauled yourself astride the mare. From there, you took the mare over the fence to get away. The other footprints turned back and reentered the stables. You saw Nell’s murder all right, Olney, and then you lit out on the mare as if your tail had been scorched. Elijah said the mare threw you off in the woods, which left you afoot for a while. You did a lot of stumbling around, like you were in a lot of pain.” His eyes raked the younger man. “Obviously the mare crippled you in some fashion.”
Olney had thought he’d have the upper hand once he faced the sheriff, but the bloke had turned the tables on him. It was evident the man relished lifting the hair off his nape by telling him what he had seen and done, as if he had been a mouse in a corner of the stable that night. It was damned disconcerting to be the one now standing with jaw hanging aslack.
Olney shook himself, managing to flatten only a few of his hackles, and finally muttered, “Yeah, I took the mare. Damn near killed me, too, she did. Tore me arm out o’ the socket when she scraped me off’n her. Later I found Birmin’am at Red Pete’s place. He an’ his missus were ‘ere all by their lonesome till I come upon ’em. Forced him ta fix me arm, I did. He tried ta tell me it weren’t him what killed Nell, even said she’d been knifed three times.” The scamp scoffed. “I only seen her stabbed once.”
“Birmingham wasn’t lying to you, Olney,” Rhys informed him. “Nell was stabbed three times.”
“Then he must’ve gone back ta finish her off, ’cause I only seen him do it ta her once.”
The sheriff sought to confirm in his own mind what Olney was telling him. “If the murderer actually returned to stab her twice more, then you’re saying it happened after you had lit out on the mare.”
“I’m sayin’ that, all right.”
“Did you happen to see the murderer’s face clearly at any time before your departure?”
“I seen meself a man what were all duded up in fancy evenin’ clothes an’ more’n a half head taller’n me.”
“And though you never saw his face, you can swear without a doubt that you can identify him?” Rhys pressed.
“I’da’ve known him anywhere, Sheriff. It were Birmin’am, hisself,” Olney answered emphatically. “He nearly scaredt the livin’ daylights outa me, comin’ after me the way he did. He almost caught me too, he did. If not for that fool mare bein’ there when I needed her, I’da’ve been a goner just like poor Nell. I ain’t ne’er seen me a man what runs that fast, an’ here I be, ’bout ten years younger than that ‘ere bloke.”
Rhys shot him a glance that was a mixture of surprise and dawning perception. “You say the man was very tall?”
“Yeah, I say the man was tall, ’bout as tall as Birmin’am hisself,” Olney rejoined acidly, growing vexed with the lawman’s dogged persistence. “About as tall as ye an’ that other fancy friend o’ yers, the one what makes ladies’ dresses.” He curled his lip contemptuously. “Guess he likes frilly clothes so much he had ta start makin’ ’em so’s he could hides out in his fancy ‘partment whilst he’s wearin’ ’em.”
Rhys settled an incredulous stare upon the balmy fellow. “Lest you continue in your foolish assumption about Farrell Ives, boy, let me inform you that he not only retired an undefeated boxer, but for the last ten years running he has also been the best marksman in this area. At sixty paces, he could blow your eyeballs out of their sockets without fluttering your lashes.”
“Ye sure are defensive ’bout yer friends, Sheriff,” the rapscallion challenged with a sneer. “Now, are ye gonna hear what I have ta say ’bout Birmin’am or not?”
“I’LL GET THE DOOR, TIZZY,’’ RAELYNN CALLED TO THE back of the house where the young black woman had gone to bathe Jake. “Just continue what you’re doing.”
“Yas’m, Miz Raelynn.”
Raelynn stepped first to the window and cautiously looked out to make sure the visitor had a friendly face. Upon espying the sheriff, she hastened to pull open the door in some surprise. “Rhys, what are you doing here?”
Then her eyes swept past him to the street in front of the house and widened perceptively as she saw the people who had gathered there, at the forefront of which was Olney with his wrists shackled. Of a sudden, she knew why the sheriff had come. Olney had finally come forth to accuse her husband.
“Jeffrey didn’t do it, Rhys,” she declared, not even pausing to debate the question in her own mind anymore. She was now firmly convinced that Jeff
couldn’t have done such a horrible deed. He was just too upright and noble to kill anyone in such a dastardly fashion. “I know he didn’t!”
“I’d like to talk to him, Raelynn,” Rhys said in a solemn tone. “Is he here?”
“Yes,” she replied reluctantly, drawing the door open all the way and stepping back to admit the large man into the hallway. “Jeffrey had another bad headache a few hours ago, and I gave him some laudanum in his food to make him sleep. It should be wearing off by now.”
“I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell him that I’m here?”
“Come in and have a seat in the parlor,” she invited reluctantly.
“Thank you, Raelynn.”
Once he had entered the house, Rhys glanced around. “Is anyone else here?”
“Just my maid and Jake. Elizabeth and Farrell got married this afternoon, and they’re spending the night at his apartment.”
A wide grin spread across Rhys’s lips. “I’m happy to hear that. They should’ve done that long time ago.”
“I’ll get Jeffrey up. You may have to wait a few moments before he comes down. He’ll need to get dressed.”
“I don’t mind, Raelynn. I’m not going anywhere.”
By the time Raelynn arrived at their bedroom, Jeff was already up and splashing water on his face. As she came in, he threw a thumb over his shoulder toward the front window, from which he had drawn the heavy draperies aside.
“What’s going on out there?” he asked, drying his face. “What are all those people doing in front of the house?”
“I think if you’d care to take note more closely, my love, you’ll find that one of them is Olney Hyde. Rhys Townsend is waiting downstairs to talk with you. Though he hasn’t said as much, I’m afraid he has come to arrest you.”
Jeff sighed wearily and tossed down the towel. “I’d better get some clothes on.”
She swept her gaze down his long, naked body, but her eyes lacked the usual twinkle of admiration. “I think you’d better. Rhys wouldn’t be unduly shocked if you came downstairs that way, but Tizzy certainly would.”
“Can you have her make me some coffee? I’m still feeling a bit groggy.” He scrubbed a hand across his brow, as if seeking to banish a lingering stupor. “I don’t know why I’m sleeping so much lately.”
Raelynn dared not reveal the reason. “I learned how to make coffee while working for Ives’s Couture,” she informed him quietly. “I’ll make you some just the way Farrell likes his. Strong.”
A few moments later Jeff came downstairs suitably attired in shirt, trousers and ankle-length boots. He entered the parlor where Rhys awaited him and exchanged a brief greeting with the man before facing his wife who was just emerging from the dining room with a tray upon which resided a china coffee service and two brimming cups of coffee sitting atop daintily flowered saucers. Feeling in great need of the coffee’s stimulant to clear his muddled thoughts, Jeff stepped forward and helped himself to a cup from the tray. The coffee was still scalding hot, and he had to sip it slowly as Raelynn moved past him to the sheriff.
“Would you care to have some coffee, Rhys?” she asked graciously, presenting him the tray.
“I drink mine black, just like Jeffrey,” he announced, taking up the remaining cup and saucer before leaning back in his chair.
Jeff settled on the settee, an arm’s length away, and silently patted the cushion beside him as he caught Raelynn’s eye. Giving him an answering smile, she placed the tray on the narrow table in front of them and settled into the seat beside him.
Rhys took a sip of the brew and then bobbed his head in approval. “Good coffee. Just what I needed.”
“Thank you,” Raelynn murmured, forcing a smile. It was difficult to appear relaxed when in another few moments she might well be facing Jeffrey’s arrest. “Elizabeth taught me how to make it.”
Rhys glanced up with a grin. “You two can make coffee for me anytime. In fact, I just might bring you both over to my house so you can instruct my Mary. She makes it too weak to my way of thinking. She’s always trying to save a coin here and there, no matter how weak the coffee may taste afterwards. The frugality of her Scottish blood can leave a man vexed for want of a darker brew.”
The tense silence of the Birminghams made it evident that they were waiting for him to state his purpose for being there and that no amount of easing into the subject could ease their qualms. Rhys cleared his throat and finally got down to the foul business that had brought him. Peering at his friend, he jerked his head toward the street. “I assume, Jeff, that you’ve seen the crowd outside,” he ventured and took another sip of coffee, loathing the task he was about. “Olney made sure of his reinforcements before he ever came to see me. He swears you were the one who killed Nell . . .”
“I know what he thinks, Rhys, but he’s mistaken,” Jeff protested. “I didn’t kill Nell. I told you what happened, and it was the truth.”
“Jeffrey couldn’t possibly have killed that girl, Rhys,” Raelynn stated once again with conviction, evoking her husband’s amazement. Readily yielding her hand to the larger one that reached out to clasp hers, she pressed on with unswerving dedication. “You’ve been acquainted with him longer than I have. You ought to know better than anyone that he’s just not capable of such a thing.”
Rhys raised a hand to forestall them. “Please, Jeff, Raelynn, let me finish. Let me assure you both that I have another suspect in mind, but to keep you safe from that mob out there, Jeff, I’ve got to take you with me. If I don’t arrest you, those people out there might decide to lynch you. Fridrich’s men have incited them to the point that they’re firmly convinced that I haven’t been doing my duty merely because you’re my friend. Now, what I’d like for you to do at the moment is to tell me if you noticed anything at all about the man who attacked you and your wife. We both know that he’s tall, fast, and if he was able to knock a man of your size into a lamppost, he’s obviously very strong. Can you think of anything else about him that may have slipped your mind? Did you happen to notice his feet?”
Jeff stared at his friend as if he had taken leave of his senses. “You asked me the same question about Olney’s feet, and the answer is still no. I was trying to stay alive and keep that butcher from killing my wife.” He frowned at the lawman curiously. “Was there something noteworthy about his feet that gained your attention?”
Rhys lifted his heavy shoulders. “I never got that close to him. I was just wondering if you might have noticed whether or not he had small enough feet to wear your boots.”
Jeff leaned back against the settee, a look of wonder sweeping over his face. “You mean the muddy boots that Cora found in my bathing chamber while you were there looking into Nell’s murder?”
“Exactly.”
“Why would the man who murdered Nell try to kill me?” Jeff asked, unable to think too clearly even yet. “It seems more likely that someone killed her to implicate me.” In growing frustration, he scrubbed a hand alongside his temple. “I’m sorry, Rhys, but I’m having trouble putting all this together. I’m beginning to think that blow on my head has left me permanently impaired.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry yourself about that, not while you’re being given laudanum. That blame stuff can make a body nigh sense . . .” Rhys halted abruptly, realizing what he had just spilled. Grimacing over his blunder, he met Raelynn’s worried gaze and silently begged her forgiveness.
Jeff wasn’t so confused that he missed the visual exchange between the two. In response he turned to his wife. “You gave me laudanum?”
Beneath his incredulous stare, Raelynn scrunched her shoulders, very much like a child drawing into a tiny shell of herself. “I had to do something to ease your headaches, Jeffrey. They were making you nauseous.”
“But I told you I didn’t want to take that stuff,” he pointed out. “I prefer the headaches over the lameness of my brain. Right now, I can’t even think clearly enough to consider everything that is being said.”
> “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” she promised, lifting soulful eyes to his.
All of Jeff’s exasperation rapidly dissipated before his young wife’s obvious contrition. “Lord, madam, you could steal the heart from the devil himself,” he murmured in awe. Locking an arm in a fierce embrace about her shoulders, he pulled her close against him. After agonizing through the weeks of their lengthy separation, the last thing in the world he wanted now was to cause her more anguish. Dropping a kiss upon her head, he whispered against her sweetly scented hair, “Don’t fret now, love. Please, I can’t bear it.”
Rhys didn’t even attempt to curb a grin as he considered the pair. He did, however, help himself to another cup of coffee. “I suppose this means that everything is all right in your home camp, eh, Jeff? I mean, other than the fact that I’ll have to arrest you for a time.” His gaze dipped to the gentle fullness beneath Raelynn’s skirts, which in all the excitement the other night he had overlooked. “I see you’re going to have your hands full as new parents next year. My Mary and I will be busy in the same way, but I rather suspect ours will be coming before yours. First thing you’ll know, Jeff, we’ll be having grandchildren.”
“Whoa!” Jeff cried, and gave a brief laugh. “Let me enjoy siring a few more before marrying off this one, Rhys. I’m not that old yet.”
“No, I guess you’re not, considering you’re two years younger than I am. Mary has her heart set on having a large family, but she’ll either be having one every year for the next eight years, or I’ll still be siring them into my fifties. But then, Mary will always be young, at least in my eyes.”
“Let’s get back to the man who attacked us the other night,” Jeff urged. “I’m wondering what you may have learned about him since then and why you think he may have murdered Nell?”
“Olney said the man who chased him out of the stables was very fast, and it caused me to recall my own amazement over how quickly your assailant left me behind. Of course, I can’t rightly say for sure if there’s any connection between the two incidents, but it seems mighty peculiar the way Olney and I were both awed by the swiftness of the men with whom we had each come in contact, the murderer whom Olney saw, and the man who attacked you the other night. Now, I know you’re no slowpoke, Jeff. I remember the races we used to run as boys, and you won your fair share of them, but you never impressed me as being overly fast, I mean, to the point that you’d leave people agog. I can only think . . . and hope . . . that the man who murdered Nell is the same one who attacked you. If it is, that would definitely make my job a lot easier. Then I’d only be searching for one man instead of two.”
A Season Beyond a Kiss Page 42