Borrowing Death (11 page)

“Was anyone else with you when you visited Mr. Fiske, Della? Did anyone else know? Can you tell me about it?” Charlotte asked.

“I'd heard from one of the other girls that I could get money from him, so I went to the store. He took me into his office,” Della said, “just the two of us. Thought for a minute he was gonna ask me to . . . you know . . . service him at his desk, but instead he had me sit in a chair, all businesslike.”

At least Lyle hadn't been that despicable.

“Then what?”

“We talked about terms and such. He took a black box from his safe, opened it up and counted out the cash, then put my necklace in the box. I left right after that.”

The black box Caroline was searching for, most likely, but she'd been insistent about other sorts of papers. Whoever killed Fiske had the papers and probably more pawned pieces.

“I wonder if other things are being returned.”

But why go through the trouble?

“The girl who told me about Mr. Fiske pawned her mother's pearl earrings,” Della added. “She's gone though. Moved to Anchorage last May.”

“I'm sure Fiske had more than a few customers,” Brigit said. “We'll let you know if we hear of anything.” She turned to Della. “Why don't you head back to the house? I'll be along shortly.”

Della nodded, then her gaze fell on the necklace. Poor thing. It meant something to her, but she was obviously torn about keeping it. Charlotte handed the necklace to her.

“I don't think anyone will come looking for it, Della. Take it, and keep it safe.”

Della gave her a grateful smile, shoved the necklace into her pocket, and hurried out of the office.

When she was gone, Brigit leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Thank you. She wanted to help, though she has no feelings either way toward the Fiskes, but didn't want to go to the marshal's office for fear they'd take the necklace as evidence. Or even accuse her of killing him.”

Charlotte rose and poured them each some tea. “I thought you and the girls were a little more trusting of James lately.”

Brigit wrapped her hands around the delicate cup. “I am, but Della has had a few run-ins with lawmen that have left her wary.”

“Has she broken the law?” Charlotte asked, then gave Brigit a crooked grin. “Other than the obvious, I mean.”

Brigit smiled back. Charlotte was grateful they could tease each other about their jobs and not feel offended. “Trouble in California that prompted her to move here. I don't know the details, but she's been on the up-and-up since I've hired her.”

“Even if Fiske's pawn business is related to his death, I don't think her keeping the necklace will be an issue, since she has no idea who returned it to her. Though James might want to ask Della some questions about the transaction.”

“Like what?” Brigit asked then sipped her tea. “She learned Fiske made loans when no bank would give a girl like her a dime. James probably knows all about it.”

Why hadn't he told Charlotte? “He's pretty damn good at keeping things to himself when he wants to, isn't he?”

“Most people are,” Brigit said. She gave Charlotte a pained look. “I heard about last night.”

Charlotte tried to act nonchalant, but it wasn't easy. “What do you mean?”

“That your date with James was interrupted by his wife.”

The back of her neck tightened for no discernable reason. Or at least no reason she'd care to admit out loud. “Ex-wife, and it wasn't a date. How did you know about it anyway?”

“Two of my regulars were there. Saw and heard the whole thing before they came by the house. Idle pillow talk and gossip at the faro tables reveals a lot of information.”

Heat rose on Charlotte's cheeks. Good lord, did everyone in this town know everyone else's business? “So much for discretion.”

Charlotte wanted to snatch the words back as soon as she said them. The hurt look on Brigit's face confirmed that the dig against the madam's assertion of privacy within her house was petty and mean.

“I'm sorry, Brigit,” she said earnestly. “I know you keep a lid on what you and the girls hear and see. We were in a public place, and I shouldn't be surprised people talked. Forgive me?”

Brigit didn't say anything for a few moments, and Charlotte feared she'd damaged their friendship. Finally, Brigit lost the tense, wounded look on her face. “It's all right. I shouldn't have made light of it. I'm sure finding out he was married was a shock.”

That was an understatement.

“Did you know?” Charlotte asked, trying to keep the lingering ache from her voice. It wasn't the fact he was married or in the process of divorcing that rankled, but that he hadn't told her.

Brigit's expression softened. “No. I don't think anyone did. James Eddington is one of the most private men I've met. You get what you see with him, but only what he lets you see.”

“That's true.”

He wasn't being deceptive, just more reserved than Charlotte had expected. She was sure that reticence served him well at the marshal's office, but it was a hard pill to swallow in a personal relationship.

Then again, he wasn't the only one holding things back, was he? Did a lie of omission count as a lie?

“It really doesn't matter,” Charlotte said, waving off the subject. “It's none of my business.”

Brigit's eyebrows rose in surprise. “Isn't it?”

“Of course not. Why would it be?” The sideways glance Brigit gave said she was assuming a situation Charlotte wanted to avoid considering. “We're just friends.”

“But you'd like there to be more.”

The thought had crossed her mind upon occasion over the last three months. She and James definitely had some sort of connection, and they'd shared a kiss or two, but anything beyond that? It was too much to contemplate.

“I can't, Brigit, not right now.” Charlotte rose and made herself busy setting her teacup on the credenza beside the stove. “It's better if we just stay friends.”

“Don't hold this against him, Charlotte.”

She turned to face her friend. “I won't. It's . . . it's not him or his marital status. There are things we need to sort out. That
I
need to sort out. This just isn't a good time.”

“It rarely is.” Brigit came around the desk and laid her hand on Charlotte's arm, a sad smile on her face. “You've had something on your mind since the other day, when the letter about Camille arrived. Talking to you helped me. I'd like to offer the same shoulder. Let me know if I can do anything for you. Friends, remember?”

Charlotte's throat tightened. “I will.”

“I have to get back. See you soon.” She bussed Charlotte's cheeks, then got her coat and hat. Brigit waved to her, and the bell over the door jingled gently as it closed behind the madam.

Charlotte sat at the desk, staring at the pages before her but not really seeing them. What a mess. Try as she might to put her past aside, there was no way she could completely eradicate the emotions that came out from time to time. Guilt from not feeling guilty about what she'd done, yet there was the shame and stigma attached to having had an abortion. Guilt from surviving the procedure when so many women had been injured or died. And so much relief that she hadn't been one of them, or hadn't needed to tell her parents what she'd done.

She couldn't possibly find the words to tell anyone else. Kit knew. Michael knew. She might be able to confide in Brigit, eventually, but to tell James? Not likely. Wade into a protest over women's rights to get a story? No problem. Confess her stupidity with Richard and what had followed? That required more guts than she had.

Admitting she'd been blinded by his charms and let herself be swayed by his well-played lies was just too damn embarrassing, to say the least. She'd have to explain what Richard had said and done to get her into his bed, which wasn't much more than convince Charlotte he was in full agreement with her on equality and voting rights for women. Truth be told, she'd enjoyed the intimacy with him and didn't deny the feeling of freedom in choosing to go to bed with him. But finally realizing he'd fooled her made her feel idiotic and naïve.

Charlotte had essentially sworn off men for the past fifteen months, and she'd been happy. Now there was James, who ignited feelings she hadn't realized she missed.

Brigit saw that she liked James. So did Michael. James probably saw it as well. Hell,
she
even knew it when she stopped pretending otherwise. But what she'd said to Brigit was true. She needed time to sort out her feelings, to figure out if she was ready to let someone get close again.

Charlotte knew herself too well to be sure anything more than friendship with James would remain as chaste as she needed it to be. There was no way she'd get herself into the same predicament twice in just over a year. She'd opt for lifelong celibacy first.

That would certainly alleviate problems, even if resulted in complete frustration.

* * *

Before going home for the evening, Charlotte stopped in at McGruder's grocery and perused the aisles, hoping for something to strike her fancy for dinner that night. The clerk, one of McGruder's sons who was older than Charlotte by a good ten years, had asked if he could be of help, but then left her to decide on her own as he stacked items behind the counter. While she considered her desire for tomato versus vegetable soup, the front door rattled open.

“Just stop for a little while, for God's sake,” a gruff male voice said. His anger and frustration were loud and clear. “It won't kill either of you to have a little restraint and respect.”

Charlotte peeked around the display of canned vegetables at the end of the aisle. Otto and Adam Kenner stood at the counter. She saw only the back of Otto's head, and Adam stood in profile to her, a pinched, worried look on his face.

“We do have respect,” Adam said, much more softly than his brother as he eyed the clerk at the other end of the store. “But this is rough for her. She needs a shoulder to cry on.”

Otto snorted. “I'm sure you're giving her more than that.”

The clerk came over and Otto ordered five pounds of ground coffee and a wedge of hard cheese. Adam shook his head and started to turn her way. Charlotte quickly ducked back into the aisle. Not that she was doing anything wrong; she was just shopping, after all. Staring at the Kenners, however, might be mistaken for eavesdropping or being the busybody Michael accused her of being.

Charlotte waited for the Kenners to make their purchase and leave before she grabbed a can of soup and went to the counter.

“That it for you, Miss Brody?”

“Some cheddar cheese too, if you please,” she said, craning her neck to watch the Kenners walk up the street. Probably headed home.

“That Otto Kenner sure has a way about him, don't he?” the clerk asked.

Charlotte brought her attention to the McGruder man. “Do you know him or Adam?”

He shrugged. “Well enough, I guess. They're hardworking. Keep to themselves mostly, though Otto's been known to start a ruckus or two at the Mirage Club.”

“Is he the violent sort?”

The clerk made a face. “Not unless you make him mad. Saw him deck a guy who cheated at poker, over a dollar pot. Wasn't the money, Otto said, the guy lyin' there with his nose broken, but the principle. I make sure I'm very careful when I count out his change.”

Charlotte could see the elder Kenner brother flying off the handle and reacting in such a way. “I don't blame you. Honesty and fair play are important, especially in business.”

“Absolutely,” McGruder said. “Otto has no problem calling out business owners for not being on the up-and-up. They don't like it one bit, either being accused of cheating or getting caught at it.”

“Did he ever have words with Lyle Fiske?”

McGruder didn't hesitate. “They had a real roof-raiser at the Businessmen's Association Dinner 'bout four, five months back. Didn't come to blows or nothing, but Otto's face was so red I thought steam was about to shoot from his ears.”

Brigit had mentioned the same tussle between the men.

“Sounds serious. What was it about?”

“Same thing Otto always goes on about: price gouging. He accused Lyle of trying to take advantage of being the only hardware store in town and charging whatever the hell he felt like charging. Pardon my French.”

“That would be irritating, to say the least,” Charlotte said, considering the relationships between all the Fiskes and Kenners. “Thank you, Mr. McGruder.”

The man grinned at her. “Have a good evening, Miss Brody, and remember, we'll deliver so you don't have to go out in this mess. Just give a call.”

She smiled back and slid her purchases into her satchel. On her way to her house, Charlotte mulled the conversation between the brothers and the one she'd had with McGruder. One Fiske-Kenner relationship seemed to be vastly different from the other, but both put Lyle Fiske in the middle of passionate situations. Was he an instigator or a victim? Given his desire for financial gain, she could see that being a factor in his death; money was a strong motivator. Or was it the lovers who'd decided Lyle was in the way?

Otto Kenner's beef with Lyle seemed awfully intense. It was obvious from his conversation at the grocery store with Adam that Otto didn't think much of his brother's affair with Caroline. That might be a residual effect of his dislike for Lyle, though Charlotte would have expected Otto to support anything that could irritate his nemesis.