by C. A. Asbrey
Abigail frowned. “Mr. Bartholemew’s your brother-in-law?”
O’Grady gave a tut of impatience. “No, Dan O’Mannion. The grocer. He’s married to my sister, Dorothy.”
“Hmmm.” Abigail mused in a show of surprise. “I wonder what he was doing out in New York? He hasn’t got a job, as far as I’m aware. I’m sure I’d know. I’m here every day.”
“Really? Lyin’ toad. I’ll put the word out. There’ll be more tradesmen turnin’ up. You mark my words, miss.”
“Bridget. My name is Bridget O’Riordan.” Abigail smiled to herself, acutely aware that criminals under pressure made mistakes—and mistakes made them easier to catch. Financial pressure helped enormously.
“There’s no love lost between you and your boss?” asked O’Grady.
“I’m only filling in while my cousin is sick, sir, but, no. He’s vile to me.” She decided to stir up some further trouble. “I don’t think he likes the Irish. He was nice to my cousin, but her name is Barret, and she doesn’t have an accent. It’s the only reason I can think of. I’m very good at my job.”
“Really?” O’Grady threw her a broad smile. “I hope he don’t owe you wages. I don’t give much for your chances of seeing what you’re due.”
“Hmm. I’ll ask him for it, Mr. O’Grady. I may even look into getting another position.”
“I might be able to find you somethin’. I know a lot of shopkeepers. You ever done shop work?”
“No, sir.”
“Lots of girls prefer it to service.” He grinned. “Us Irish have to stick together. I like the fact you didn’t call neighbors for help to throw us out. That works both ways, Bridget. Have my card.”
♦◊♦
“Where did you go?” she demanded when Nat strolled casually out of the laboratory while she closed the door behind the departing tradesmen.
“Out of the window. I heard them coming. I got back in by the back door.” His glittering eyes drank in the carnage in the laboratory, a smile playing around his lips. Every bit of copper had been stripped from the apparatus, leaving the equipment strewn in pieces all over the room.
Nat strode in and shook his head at the ornate glass jar on its side on the floor. The bottom two thirds of the jar was covered in shiny gold scroll work and it had been knocked over in the men’s blundering hurry. The glass work was etched with similar patterns to the metal along with swirling dragons and clouds. The metal seemed to have saved much of the jar, but it had spilled the lid onto the floorboards beside it. The ceramic lid was broken. Nat bent and picked it up, toying idly with the gold knob on the top. He traced a finger over the ornate Chinese figures embossed in the gold collar.
“He’s gonna go absolutely nuts.” Nat’s voice was laden with amusement. He stood once more, turning the lid his hands before slipping it into his pocket. He frowned at the enormous vase. It had to be a foot across and the same in height. “What does he use this for? It doesn’t look scientific.”
Abigail shrugged. “An ornament, I suppose. There’s another one of them in the bathroom with colorful bath salts in it. It’s very pretty. He probably got them as a pair. They’re so big it’s probably too much to have both of them in that little room. It’s on the window sill. They have all the modern conveniences. The bath even has piped-in water. No carrying buckets in this house.”
“Yeah. Do you know how much that all costs? I found a bill for a bespoke English-style vitreous china bath. A hundred and fifty-seven dollars, it cost, not to mention the expense of fitting. He thinks he’s the damned Queen of England.”
She paused, her voice underscoring her disapproval. “An indoor toilet. Can you believe that? Indoors. It doesn’t seem hygienic to me.”
Nat’s reaction was caught in one arched brow. “It’s better than using the outhouse out the back in the middle of a winter night. Sheesh. I can see why he runs out of money.” He lazily traced his finger over the ornate gold collar of the large jar which extended its body. “He has expensive tastes. This even looks like real gold.”
“It has to be brass. It’d be worth a fortune if it was real gold.” Abigail shrugged. “I suppose it’s easy to be profligate with other people’s money, though.”
“So they took every bit of copper?”
“Yes, every shred, and I get the feeling that I’m going to get the blame for letting them in. We need to get everything we can before Bartholemew gets back here because I think I’m about to be sacked. I won’t miss this disguise, that’s for sure.”
Nat’s provocative smile spread. “We’ll get in, Abi. Whenever we want to.”
She flicked open a box full of jars and lifted some out. “Chemical symbols. I suppose we have to note every single one of them. I’m taking no chances. Let’s get all his documentation and we can examine it at our leisure. Hopefully, he’ll think O’Grady took them by accident.”
“From the safe?” laughed Nat.
“Who cares? We’ll be gone. We search the place from top to bottom. It’s an opportunity. He’s never going to kill anyone while we’re here anyway. That’s why he doesn’t have a live-in maid. I suggest we turn the place over and resort to watching the house.”
Nat nodded. “So. He’s in desperate need of money and Maddie’s not here to provide any. I’ve got the feeling he’s about to act fast. Have any women been round here?”
“No. Not that I know of.”
“I guess that’s another reason why he doesn’t have live-in help.” He gave her a satisfied grin and handed her a stack of love letters. “There’s one in particular. I found these in the safe. They belong to a young woman with an address up on Liberty Hill.”
Abigail gasped. “How old are they?”
“The last one was dated last week.”
“We can’t let him marry again. We don’t know how he kills. We can’t let that young woman walk blindly into danger like that.” Abigail bit into her lip.
“Can we speak to her?”
She looked deeply into his dark eyes and spoke in somber tones. “I’ll do it. I’ve got my sister’s wedding photograph and an extract from the register in the church where they married. I can show her he’s not free to marry. She probably has no idea what he is. She can check with the church herself if she doesn’t believe me.”
“Fine.” Nat nodded. “What can I do to help?”
“Search like mad. Find documents, notes, secret compartments in bags. Anything.” Abigail pulled out a bottle. “Belladonna? Aconite, strychnine? What does he need these for? They have nothing to do with radio waves.”
Chapter 6
Jake Conroy lolled against the boulder after a hard day’s riding and rubbed his weary face. This job was tougher than he’d bargained for. Madeleine couldn’t be more different to her sister. They didn’t seem to have come out of the same womb. Abigail’s conversation was thoughtful and informed, where her baby sister prattled only about her sore butt, how far she had ridden, and picked faults in people he would never meet. In between that she veered into periods of nakedly self-serving manipulation and sulking. No wonder Gary had wanted rid of her.
His brows met and he pushed himself upright, unsure if he had really heard what he thought he had. The magical sound of glorious singing drifted through the trees on the evening breeze and it was the single most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It was full of the kind of haunted yearning which connects with the soul on the first note. He couldn’t make out any words, just a sense of desperate loneliness carried by a melody which played on his heartstrings. He shook his head in disbelief, following the refrain as he found himself walking toward the river where Madeleine had told him she would wash a few items of clothing.
The deep green pool was filled by a frilly-white horsetail waterfall, the edges softened by bracken and warmed by the tones of the surrounding redwoods. The high trees filtered the light into glorious beams which made Madeleine’s unclad body shine and glow in the penumbrous glade.
She sat in the water bathing, totally n
ude, singing so perfectly it seemed like angel song across the earthly veil. Beams of the setting sun caught the skin of her naked body, lighting it with a creamy richness. Her golden hair fluttered free in cascading ripples of water until it partially covered the cheeks of her pert bottom. She apparently thought she was entirely alone.
Jake drew in a breath and watched as he felt his body tighten in reaction to the perfection he saw in front of him. He knew that she was beautiful, but this vision surpassed anything he had imagined, and he reacted viscerally as his breathing and heartbeat accelerated in response. Guilt ate into him knowing that he shouldn’t be watching her, but he was unable to tear himself away. Sharp fingernails dug into his palms until he shook himself back to reality.
She was singing in a language which sounded vaguely familiar. It reminded him of the Irish songs his mother used to sing to them when he was a boy, but where hers were jaunty and rhythmic, this song was haunting and soared with cadence which combined with the scene to be truly bewitching. He guessed it was Scottish Gaelic, knowing how fluent her sister was in her mother tongue.
He watched spellbound as her rich alto voice transported him. Where had she learned to sing like this? The song soared, full of mysterious strains linked to an ancient past and remorse for loves long gone and forever missed, playing with his perception and reason with its hypnotic rise and fall, ebb and flow. It was primal and melodic all at once, full of Celtic twilight and a past almost forgotten in the mists of time.
Madeleine waded further in, the water reaching her navel before she suddenly plunged into the water, resurfacing again with her long hair adhering to her shoulders and capping her naked breasts. She surged upward and threw herself backward to float on the surface of the cool water, bathed in warm sunlight. The clinging hair accentuated her high cheekbones, while the dancing twinkles of sunlight on the water seemed to charge her eyes with magnetic power. Like an otter, she turned in the water and he saw her endless legs flick above the surface as she dove deep down to the depths of the pool.
Jake fought the passions stirring inside him. He had been disturbed by the look in her iridescent eyes since they had regarded him with such horror when he first walked into the camp site.
He ached with need that grew with every passing moment. His attraction to her was growing to a level beyond anything in his experience. He’d never laid eyes on anyone so extravagantly beautiful in all his born days. Abigail’s warnings to keep a grip on reality and not to allow her to play with his head resurfaced, but the message was getting murkier by the second, drowned out by the enticing singing of the siren bathing in the clear, refreshing stream.
Jake stood upright as a chorus of need grew in his head, but he felt the need to come clean and make his presence known. After all, she deserved better than this, and although he was a thief and a liar, he was raised to be a better man than one who would spy on an unwary woman.
“Mrs. Bartholemew.”
The singing stopped instantly before her anxious voice drifted back to him accompanied by a loud splash. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you decent?”
“What do you want?”
“I’m coming down.”
There was the sound of burbling and sploshing before she spoke again. “No! Wait—you can come now.”
He moved openly to the side of the river as she peered over the top of the water in shock, with just her luminous eyes appearing above the surface.
“How long have you been there?” she gasped.
“Not long.”
She stayed hidden deep in the water as he glanced toward the bushes which were festooned in her underwear, washed and drying in preparation for the journey. He flicked up an eyebrow, wondering what she was planning on wearing when she emerged from the water.
“Where did you learn to sing like that?”
“My mother taught me.”
“Beautiful. Just beautiful.”
She smiled and swept herself further out to the depths of the river. “I couldn’t resist. It’s been such a hot day and I was aching so. It’s lovely in here, just wonderful. So refreshing.”
He didn’t doubt it. Not for one second. In fact, it seemed lovelier in there than just about anywhere he had ever seen.
She tilted her head as stars of fallen sunlight glittered magically over the surface of the water, her eyes deep pools of temptation urging him to give in and follow his urges into tantalizing seduction. “Why don’t you come in?”
He sighed and ran a hand through his blond curls. Why the hell not? “Well. I don’t need to be invited twice, ma’am.”
He stripped off his shirt, revealing the hard, sinewy body beneath and began to pull at his boots. Within minutes, he was striding through the shallows, before he submerged himself in clear, cool, invigorating water. Jake resurfaced about a foot away from her with rivulets running from his tousled hair before streaming across the firm muscles of his chest and the robust, taught strength of his upper arms.
“You’re right. Sure is nice,” he murmured, his blue eyes reflected the blue sky and clear water while he gazed deeply into hers.
His feet could just about reach the bottom, so she was clearly well out of her depth. He moved closer. “Missin’ your husband, Mrs. Bartholemew?”
“Maddie. Call me Maddie.”
His azure eyes twinkled across the surface. “Maddie. Do you miss your husband?”
She arched an eyebrow provocatively. “Not when you’re around. You’re different. Very masculine. I’d bet you could knock David out with one punch.”
Jake silently observed that he’d love to do just that if Abigail was right about the cur, but said nothing.
She looked deeply into his eyes, bobbing slightly as she treaded water, her voice becoming husky and low. “You’re so raw and bold. He’s nothing like you. I suppose he impressed me in the tame world. He was a rich, older man, and seemed so in control, but now I’ve met you.” She bit into her lip and lowered her lashes. “He can’t compete. I need a real man, one who’s strong enough to stand up to me.”
Jake clenched his jaw, acutely aware that this was not true in the least. After all, he had read her diary.
Madeleine moved closer and he felt the silkiness of her little hand on his waist, pulling him close. “Kiss me,” she whispered.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him in a hungry embrace, capturing her generous mouth with excited zeal before he felt her pull back and push against his shoulders with both hands.
Madeleine swam backward as soon as he released her, a tinkling laugh echoing musically in the air before she slipped silently beneath the surface reappearing a few feet away. She swam, hand over hand, in a front crawl until she reached the shore and scampered over to Jake’s discarded clothing. She began to rummage, not even trying to cover her nakedness as she groped desperately through the bundle.
“Lookin’ for somethin’?” Jake demanded, as he strode to the shore, water running from his tight, hard body in tiny streams.
She darted desperate eyes up to him, ignoring his nakedness, as she picked up his holster and let out a little cry of despair as she found it empty.
“Is this what you were lookin’ for?” He strode over to another boulder and pulled out his gun from a crevice. “I ain’t completely dumb, but I’m sure smart enough to take what’s on offer, no matter how little. I take it you’ve removed that invitation now?”
Jake advanced on her, his eyes sparking dangerously. She clutched up his shirt as inadequate cover from his searching gaze.
“You monster. Don’t come near me!”
“This was your idea, darlin’. A real good one, too. It just finished a bit too early for me.” A long, muscular arm reached out as she gasped in horror and tried to jump back, but he only picked up his trousers and thrust a long leg into the depths as he gave her a rapacious glint. “I don’t know why you’re botherin’ to do that. I’ve already seen it all.”
He eyed the shapely legs appearing f
rom under his blue shirt, his gaze sliding upward to the temptation beneath before he groaned and walked over to his saddle bag and pulled out a white shirt. “It wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to take my shirt from you, Maddie. Especially when it looks so much better on you than it does on me.”
His eyes suddenly burned with the arctic chill which could give even the most hardened criminals pause. “You know what most men would do to you for playin’ those kinds of games? I gotta warn you. You’re on your very last chance, lady. I ain’t a man to push too far; in fact, you just found my limit. Even I wasn’t sure what I was goin’ to do when I walked out of that river.”
Madeleine gulped heavily as the strength of his words sank in, glancing around at the expanse of rolling hills around them.
“I can cut you loose if you want and you can find your own damned way home. Good luck with the prospectors and wild men livin’ up here. Most of them ain’t seen a woman for months. They’ll be real keen on you.”
“I do,” she howled. “That’s what I want. I only want to go home. Not go all around the houses just to keep you safe.”
“Go then.” His arm slipped into his sleeve and he buttoned up the shirt. “But you better be sure you know the way. One wrong turn and you’ll never be seen again in these hills. If the wild folks don’t get you, the bears or mountain lions sure will. You ain’t no more’n a few mouthfuls to them.”
Her breathing came in great heaving gulps, her wondrous eyes darting around. Madeleine’s gaze dropped to the ground unsure what to do. They eventually fixed on him, swirling with anger and resignation as the reality of her situation finally sank in. She stood seething at him, frustrated that all her scheming had come to nothing.
“Fine, I’ll stay, but I have one demand.”
“You ain’t in a position to make demands, Maddie.”
“Turn around, I want to get dressed.”
Jake snorted with laughter. “You’ve got to be kiddin’. Turn my back on you? I’ll get a rock on the head.”