by Cathy Pegau
“What about the black box?” Charlotte asked softly.
He didn’t look her way. “I must have just taken it after I set the fire. Didn’t realize I had it until I was halfway home.”
Rebecca’s face was a mask of emotions. Sorrow, disbelief, horror. Charlotte couldn’t imagine what it was like to hear someone you love admit to such a terrible crime.
“You were returning things to people,” Charlotte said, trying to ease the pain they were both feeling. “You gave Della’s cross back to her. She was so happy to have it again. What else, Ben? What else did you give back?”
“Walt Peter’s pocketknife, one of those fancy ones, is on the table there.” he said. “Mac Cahill’s watch. Jackie Karnoff’s World’s Fair coin. Kermit moved. I was gonna send him his knife when I got some money.”
Charlotte didn’t recognize anyone except Kermit.
“You got their names from the black book.”
He nodded. “Some people aren’t around anymore. Dead or moved away. I figured I could sell those things if they didn’t have family about.” Meeting Rebecca’s eyes, he winced. “It wasn’t a lot, and I couldn’t sell most of it. I just wanted money so we could go someplace else. Start over.” Now he turned his head and frowned at Charlotte. “But we can’t, can we? Not now.”
Charlotte swallowed hard, wincing at the pain in her throat. The only people who knew what Ben had done were in this room, and she wasn’t sure he’d be willing to let her walk out the door.
“Ben.” Rebecca laid her palms on his cheeks and turned his head back so he looked at her, not Charlotte. “She won’t say anything. We’ll let Miss Brody go, and she’ll promise to keep quiet. Right, Miss Brody?”
Charlotte clamped her jaws tight. She knew what Rebecca was doing, but she couldn’t agree to what Rebecca was suggesting. She had to tell James what she knew, even if it hurt Rebecca by losing her brother.
Ben got to his feet and pulled Rebecca to hers. He pinned Charlotte to where she sat with his dark, hard glare. He’d killed a man and had tried to shut her up. Would he try again?
Charlotte’s mind whirled. How could she escape? Which door would be easier and faster to access? Could she outrun Ben Derenov? Rebecca?
Her gut churned and her heart twinged at the thought of Rebecca being involved in that sort of thing. Would she turn on Charlotte to protect her brother? The fear and sorrow in her young face made Charlotte think not. Hope not.
“The black box is under my bed, upstairs,” Ben said. “I’ll go get it, then we’ll head to the marshal’s office.”
Rebecca put her hand on his broad chest. “Ben, no. We can—”
He covered her hand with his and gave her a crooked smile. “No, Becs, we can’t. I messed up. Again. I can’t drag you off and expect you to have anything close to a normal life.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper. “I promised Mama I’d do better, for you, and I couldn’t.”
Rebecca’s breath hitched. She understood what he was doing, what he was sacrificing for her. Tears stung Charlotte’s eyes.
“You tried,” Rebecca said. “I know you tried.”
He looked at Charlotte, anguish lining his face. “She needs to be taken care of, Miss Brody. You’ll see to that, right? You’ll make sure she stays in school and works hard and does her chores.”
Rebecca buried her face in her brother’s flannel shirt. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
Charlotte nodded. “I promise.”
* * *
James gently shut the door leading to the jail cells behind him. He stood there for a moment, hands on his hips, staring at the floor. Charlotte tried to watch him from the corner of her eye, but Michael kept touching her jaw to encourage her to turn her head back toward him. When James had seen the bruises on Charlotte’s throat, he’d insisted they call Michael as soon as he had Ben squared away in the cell next to Otto Kenner’s.
“Just give me a minute to check your throat and I’ll leave you be,” Michael said in his doctor tone. “Now, open your mouth.”
Feeling somewhat silly, but wanting to get the exam over with, Charlotte did as he asked, opening her mouth and making the obligatory “aaahhhhh” sound.
Michael flicked on his flashlight and pointed it down her throat. “Some swelling. Gargle with warm saltwater, and you can suck on some hard candies if you’d like.”
“I think she has mints on her,” James said as he sat at his desk.
Charlotte closed her mouth and stared at him. He winked. Did he know where she’d gotten them and why? Probably. It was becoming quite clear that Deputy Eddington played his cards close to his chest and wasn’t quite the straight-and-narrow sort she’d assumed he was.
She smiled. He smiled back and touched his fingers to his forehead in salute.
“That would be fine,” Michael said, oblivious to their exchange as he packed his satchel. “Are Rebecca and Ben all right? I’ll take a look at them, if you think I should.”
James shook his head. “Ben’s got a bruised cheek and a bloody nose. Said he was fine.”
“Rebecca’s not hurt,” Charlotte said, her voice gravelly. “Physically, anyway. This situation with Ben is going to tear her up. She thinks it’s her fault.”
“Nonsense,” Michael said. “She didn’t ask him to do anything.”
“No, but he did it for her. You know how siblings can be.” Charlotte smiled sadly when he met her eyes.
“True. And stop talking so much. You’ll make your throat worse.”
“Good luck with that,” James muttered.
Charlotte stuck her tongue out at him.
“I can have someone come for Rebecca,” Michael said. “I think Mary is a second cousin of some kind. She’ll know who can take her in.”
That made sense, of course, to have the girl stay with family. Yet there was a pang of disappointment within Charlotte. She’d promised to look after Rebecca, see to her schooling, and would do her best, but from a distance if Rebecca went to live elsewhere.
“We should ask Rebecca what she wants to do,” Charlotte said.
The two men looked at her. Michael nodded. James seemed surprised.
“Then I won’t talk to Mary until you let me know.” Michael put on his hat and coat. “I’ll check in on you tomorrow, Charlotte. Good night, Eddington.”
“Good night, Doc.” After Michael was gone, James leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his palms over his bearded cheeks. “I’ll let Rebecca visit with Ben for a bit, then we’ll figure out what to do with her for the time being.”
“She can stay with me if she wants.”
His brow creased. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why not? Rebecca and I are friends, and I promised Ben I’d take care of her.” Did he think she couldn’t handle a girl like Rebecca?
“You’re pretty much responsible for her brother being in jail. Don’t you think that will make things awkward?”
So he wasn’t questioning her ability to take care of another person, just Rebecca’s ability to understand what was happening and separate cause and effect. “She knows exactly who did what and why, James. Give the girl some credit.”
“I do,” he said, “but these aren’t normal circumstances. Doesn’t she have family nearby?”
Charlotte shook her head. “As Michael said, cousins of some sort, but no one close since the fallout with her father’s family.” She patted his arm, assuring him as well as herself. “It’ll be fine. I’ll see about some sort of guardianship, if you think it’s necessary.”
James didn’t seem convinced. “She’s a young girl whose life has come crashing down around her, Charlotte. It might get dicey.”
“I think the family would take her in without question, despite the problems the father had, but I don’t know. Rebecca should have a say in where she wants to live, don’t you think?”
With a heavy sigh, he stared at the door marked “Jail.” “I’m really not sure what the answer is.”
“We’ll figu
re it out.” She laid her hand on his arm to get his attention. “And we’ll abide by what she wants.”
“She’s just a kid,” James said, frowning.
“And sometimes kids have to deal with very grown-up decisions and emotions.” Charlotte couldn’t help but think of Henry as well, struggling with his feelings about what happened to his family. “I think she’s capable.”
Silence hung between them. Charlotte ran her fingers over Lyle Fiske’s black box where it sat on his desk. Caroline had been right about what was inside; there were insurance papers and a notarized will. Whether these were more recent than anything else Lyle had drawn up remained to be seen, but that wasn’t James’s or Charlotte’s concern.
“I wonder what Caroline knew?” James asked as if reading her mind.
Also inside the box was the moleskin-covered notebook listing the pawned goods, the customers, and what Fiske paid. There were very few notations of items having been bought back by his customers and a number of notes on what was received as payment for items sold.
Pawning wasn’t illegal, but Lyle wasn’t licensed, and usury charges for the interest rates he forced on his customers would have seen him doing time in jail if he’d been caught.
James had plans to search Fiske’s inventory statements and storerooms as well, at least what he could recover from the ruins of the building or from any records kept at home. Indications he was ordering beyond his store’s needs, as Otto Kenner was doing, could help prove his role in the local black market. But it was likely any illegal goods were now well-hidden, and more likely any evidence of whom he’d dealt with in town through falsified inventory and order lists had gone up in flames. Brigit would be grateful for that.
“You know someone will take the loss of Lyle and Otto as an opportunity,” she said.
“I know.” He nodded thoughtfully. “But anyone else bringing in unusually large shipments is going to have to take extra care. The city just hired two more policemen. The marshal and I will have more time to poke about the docks now.”
“Should I write something up to let the smugglers know, or do you want it to be a surprise?”
“I think a surprise would be more fun, don’t you?”
Charlotte laughed. Her throat stung.
Rebecca slipped in from the jail room. She cast a furtive glance at James as she walked to Charlotte. “Ben’s gonna be all right, won’t he?”
Charlotte held her arms open. Rebecca came to her. The two hugged, Rebecca’s head on Charlotte’s shoulder, facing away from James. Charlotte held his gaze as she spoke to the girl. “Deputy Eddington will make sure he’s comfortable until they go to Valdez tomorrow. Then the courts will make sure he gets a fair trial.”
God, she hoped so.
James winced, but recovered quickly, lest Rebecca see his expression. Ben was being charged with robbery, murder, arson, and several lesser charges. His prospects for anything less than life in prison were grim.
She’d already agreed to be a witness at his trial, hoping her testimony might mitigate his sentence. There were no guarantees, of course, but she had to do what she could, for Rebecca’s sake.
Rebecca straightened and eased out of Charlotte’s arms. “He told me to remind you the money he got for the stuff he sold is all in the box.” She looked over at James. “He really tried hard to get things back to their rightful owners.”
James’s furrowed brow smoothed. “I know. I made sure it was in the statement I took down.” He tapped the file labeled “Fiske, Lyle.” “His lawyer and the judge will know everything.”
Rebecca’s smile was fleeting and uncertain, as if she wanted to believe it would all be well. Charlotte knew Rebecca understood that Ben would never see freedom again, but she still held on to a glimmer of hope.
Charlotte rose, and gathered Rebecca’s hand in hers. “If you’re ready, we can stop by your house and pack a few things for the next several days. We can see about having you stay with family. . . .” Rebecca made a face that said she wasn’t keen on that particular idea. “Or you can stay with me.”
Rebecca’s eyes widened in surprise. “With you?”
“If you want to,” Charlotte said, trying to sound welcoming but not so eager as to overwhelm her.
Worry crossed the girl’s face. “Are you sure about this, Miss Brody? I mean, I like you, and we’re friends and all, but I don’t want to be trouble.”
She’d been trying not to be trouble all her life, Charlotte realized. Rebecca had worked hard in school, was the good girl her mother needed her to be, not a burden, like her brother. And she’d succeeded. But now, Rebecca needed to succeed for her own good, not to please anyone other than herself. Not even Charlotte.
Charlotte smiled at her and gently squeezed her hand. “We are friends, so it will never be troublesome to have you around. And I want you to call me Charlotte.” Rebecca stared at her as if Charlotte had suggested dancing down Main Street in her small clothes. Good lord, she hoped she hadn’t traumatized the poor girl. “Unless you’re more comfortable with Miss Brody. That’s fine.”
After a moment, Rebecca gave her a tentative smile. “I’ve never called a grown-up by their first name. It might take some getting used to.”
The whole situation would take some getting used to for the both of them, but if it meant keeping Rebecca safe, healthy, and in school, then it was well worth it to Charlotte.
“I’m sure you’ll catch on quick,” Charlotte said, winking at her. She met James’s eyes, glad to see he was smiling too. Good. Now they could all get used to the idea. “If there’s anything else you need, deputy, just let us know.”
“I’ll do that.” He came around the desk and escorted them to the door. “Good evening, Miss Brody.” Then, turning to Rebecca, “Miss Derenov.”
Rebecca’s cheeks pinkened. “Deputy.”
Out on the walkway, Charlotte fished the flashlight out of her pocket. A light snow was starting to fall. They walked in silence most of the way down Main Street, hearing only the sound of their boots on the frozen, icy walk.
“Ben wouldn’t have killed Mr. Fiske if he didn’t have to get the ring for me.” Rebecca’s words were so soft Charlotte had almost missed them.
She stopped abruptly and turned Rebecca to face her. “No, don’t think like that. Ben wanted to fulfill your mother’s wishes, but how he went about it has nothing to do with you, honey. He told us that right off.”
Tears welled in the girl’s eyes. “I know, but I can’t help it.”
Charlotte wiped away the tear that ran down her cheek. “Guilt can be an insidious thing, Rebecca. You blame yourself because Ben did what he did out of love for you, but you can’t be responsible for someone else’s actions.”
Rebecca nodded, but Charlotte wasn’t sure she was convinced. She might never completely believe it.
“Oh, Rebecca.” Charlotte drew her into a hug. “We humans are such fallible creatures, doing the wrong thing for the right reasons.”
Rebecca looked up at Charlotte. “That’s kind of what I told Ben.”
Once again, she marveled at the girl’s ability to see the deeper issue. “You were trying to make him feel better, but now it’s time for you to believe it as well. This isn’t your fault.”
Rebecca stared at her for another few moments, then nodded again. Maybe she would start believing it sooner than Charlotte feared, but Charlotte was well aware of how guilt could worm its way into your brain and stay there. So far, the best remedy for Charlotte had been time, and learning to trust others when you felt at your worst.
“You can talk to me whenever you need to, Rebecca.” Charlotte touched the girl’s cheek. “It helps me to talk to friends when I’m feeling bad about things.”
Where would she be without Kit or Michael or Brigit? Talking to them hadn’t alleviated all of her guilt, of course, but they’d certainly helped her come to terms with what she’d done.
“I will,” Rebecca said. “I promise.”
“Good.”
Charlotte hooked her arm through Rebecca’s and they continued down Main Street. “Now let’s get back to the house. We’ll have some tea, and I want to talk to you about that wonderful story you wrote.”
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
Cathy Pegau’s next Charlotte Brody mystery
MURDER ON LOCATION
coming in March 2017
wherever print and e-books are sold!
Chapter 1
The S S. Fairbanks made its approach to the Cordova ocean harbor, belching black smoke that quickly dissipated on the icy breeze. Anticipation from the crowd waiting on the dock was as thick as the aroma of tar, tide, and the exhaust from the line of idling automobiles. Sunlight glinted off the gray-green water and the bright white of the hull of the ship still one hundred yards away.
Charlotte Brody smiled at the memory of coming in on a similar vessel just six months ago. Still a “cheechako” in the eyes of Alaskans, she was settling into her new home. Plans to return East come spring—only a week or so away—had been indefinitely postponed.
The steamer’s air horn blew three times, and the largest gathering of Cordovans Charlotte had ever seen in one place cheered in response, waving hats and hands.
“Isn’t this exciting?” a woman standing beside Charlotte asked no one in particular. Smiling and starry-eyed, the woman brandished a rolled-up movie magazine like a member of the Signal Corps conveying messages to troops.
Charlotte didn’t quite share the woman’s or the crowd’s enthusiasm. Half the population must have turned out for the Fairbanks’s arrival. Who knew Cordova, home to some of the most practical people she’d ever met, would become positively giddy over a film crew coming to town?
Then again, given the cold, dark quiet of the winter they had just been through, the arrival of such unusual persons gave the town a boost to its torpid mood. Despite the calendar claiming it was mid-March, the more vitalizing days of the coming season were still a month or so away.