Indiana Belle (American Journey Book 3) (21 page)

"This island was also a transit point on the Underground Railroad. Several hundred slaves got their first taste of freedom when they left this shore."

"That's interesting. What's the island today?"

"It's a farm," Candice said. "A Kentucky family has tilled this land for generations."

"Do they object to trespassers?"

"I don't know. I've never met them."

Cameron laughed.

"That explains a lot."

Candice smiled.

"You're in a good mood for someone who has had a difficult week."

Cameron sighed. He didn't want to jump into the heavy stuff so early into a pleasant meal, but he suspected that Candice wanted to talk. So he took the bait.

"I've just put that unpleasantness behind me," Cameron said.

"Have you?" Candice asked. "I would be furious if someone broke into my home and stole something of value. I would be furious if he stole something
worthless
."

"Are you sure the thief is a he or even a single person?"

"No. I'm not sure of anything. I know only what you've told me. I assume that the thief is a man and probably one you've already met."

"So you think I'm right in assuming that Richard is responsible?" Cameron asked.

"I do. If he didn't go through your room, he paid someone to do it. He's the kind of man who would do such a thing. He would do it without as much as a second thought."

Cameron bit into his ham sandwich, sipped some wine, and pondered how best to respond. He knew she was right. He had concluded as much on Thursday. Richard Paine had already demonstrated his disregard for Cameron's privacy by looking into his past. Surely he would have no qualms about searching a room in his own hotel.

"Did I tell you I spoke to him on Thursday?" Cameron asked.

"No."

"Well, I did. I walked into his office and accused him of the crime."

"I'm sure he loved that," Candice said.

"He did. He seemed pretty pleased, in fact."

"Is that so?"

Cameron nodded.

"He smiled most of the time. I think he liked knowing I couldn't prove a thing."

"That's Richard," Candice said. "Did you tell him you didn't plan to drop the matter?"

"I did," Cameron said. He took a deep breath. "I told him that right after he told me about a man named Clyde Barrington."

Cameron regretted the comment the second he saw Candice look away. Though he wanted to hear her side of a troubling story, he knew he did not have to hear it today.

"What did Richard tell you about Clyde?" Candice asked.

Cameron frowned.

"He said he dated you two summers ago. He said the two of you were close."

"We were," Candice said with little enthusiasm.

"Richard also told me that Mr. Barrington is serving a life sentence in the state pen for six bank robberies and the murder of a man who witnessed one of those robberies."

"Then you know plenty."

Cameron reached out to Candice, touched her cheek, and directed her face toward his. He knew the moment he saw the tears in her eyes that he had overreached.

"It's all right," Cameron said.

"I'm so embarrassed."

"Why? Did you go on a crime spree too?"

"No," Candice said. "I did something worse. I ignored signs that others saw from the start and fell in love with a truly awful man."

"Did you know he was a criminal?"

Candice shook her head.

"I didn't. When I first met him, he was a traveling salesman, a man from Omaha, a man who was reluctant to answer questions about his past," Candice said. "I should have dug deeper. I should have listened to Lawrence and Lula, but I didn't. I wanted to believe that Clyde was who he said he was. I wanted to believe we had a future."

Cameron smiled.

"This story sounds familiar."

Candice laughed through her tears.

"The difference is that you're not a killer. At least I don't think you are."

"I'm not," Cameron said.

"That's good."

"Are you all right?"

Candice wiped a tear away and nodded.

"I'm all right – mortified, but all right. I'm sorry for not telling you, but I didn't want to scare you away. I figured you would learn about Clyde soon enough."

Cameron looked at her thoughtfully.

"How did your family react when Clyde was discovered? How did Thad? Did they think the worst? Did they think you were caught up in crime?"

"No. They believed me," Candice said. "My family and colleagues defended me in public from the beginning. Privately, though, they expressed disappointment. They could not believe that someone like me could be so gullible and blind."

Cameron smiled.

"Love does that to people."

"Are you speaking from experience, Mr. Coelho?"

The time traveler chuckled.

"No," Cameron said. He paused. "Not yet."

Candice wiped another tear and smiled.

"Does that mean I haven't scared you away?"

Cameron nodded.

"You would have to do more than run with gangsters to scare me away."

Candice smiled and sighed.

"You're a kind and decent man, Cameron Coelho."

"I don't know about that."

"I do. I just wish I had known you two years ago."

"Well, you know me now," Cameron said. He leaned forward, gave Candice a gentle kiss, and smiled. "Now let's finish our picnic before we become a part of this island's folklore."

CHAPTER 35: CANDICE

Evansville, Indiana – Thursday, May 7, 1925

The managing editor entered Candice's office, handed her a newspaper, and grinned.

"Do you like what you see?" Thad Grant asked.

Candice glanced at the paper, noted the headline, and smiled.

"I like what I see."

"I thought you would," Thad said. "I ordered an extra run because I knew you would want to give a few copies to your friends and relatives."

Candice looked at her boss with affection.

"Thank you, Thad. This means a lot."

"I'm sure it does."

Candice scanned the paper again and soaked up four words: COPS BUST BOOZE RING. She didn't like sharing real estate with John Scopes, a Tennessee teacher who had been arrested for teaching evolution, but she liked seeing her byline above the fold. For the first time in five years as a journalist, she had put a crime story on the front page of the
Evansville Post
.

"Is George upset?" Candice asked.

"No," Thad said. "I spoke to him this morning. He understands that you want to write news stories and is willing to share part of his beat."

"Thank you for speaking to him."

"You're welcome."

"Does this mean I can go after Albert Gage?" Candice asked.

Thad laughed.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You know why," Thad said. "George is already on the story. What's more, your transition from wedding writer to crime fighter is still a work in progress. I have to consider many things before I can make a significant change."

Candice frowned.

"Can I at least provide assistance? George is going to need help, Thad. Gage is a bigger fish than Preston Emerson or my two-bit bootleggers. At least let me help."

Thad shook his head.

"Let George finish what he's started. He has more on Gage than you think."

"Such as?"

"Such as proof that he's bribing legislators."

"Which ones?" Candice asked.

"I don't know. I just know he's doing it through an attorney."

"Really?"

"Really," Thad said.

Candice fixed her gaze.

"Does that attorney work across the street?"

Thad chuckled.

"No."

"Are you sure?" Candice asked.

"I'm positive. I know you think Richard is the devil himself, but he's not a criminal. If he were, I wouldn't do business with him. You really need to put him behind you."

Candice gave her boss a playful glance.

"I have."

Thad tilted his head.

"Do you have something to tell me?"

"No," Candice said. "I don't think so anyway."

"I hope not," Thad said. He smiled. "I made your friend promise me that he wouldn't cart you off to Rhode Island."

"You didn't."

"I most certainly did."

"Thad!" Candice said. "You had no right."

The editor laughed.

"You're right. I didn't."

"Then why did you do that?"

Thad looked at his underling thoughtfully.

"I did it, Candice, because I don't want to lose you. I suspect that Mr. Coelho would like to return to Providence with more than a satchel full of notes."

Candice shook her head. She couldn't decide whether she wanted to scold Thad for sharing or hug him for caring. She wondered whether another supervisor would even give a damn.

"I appreciate your concern, Thad, but I wish you would refrain from discussing my personal affairs with others."

"I understand."

"I'm glad," Candice said.

"Does that mean you'll be sticking around?"

"It means if I ever decide to leave, you'll be the first to know."

"Fair enough," Thad said. He smiled. "Now get to work."

CHAPTER 36: CAMERON

Tuesday, May 12, 1925

Cameron did not like alleys. He had disliked the narrow passageways since watching gang members mug an old man behind a Providence warehouse in 2003. He entered the dark, dirty, and dangerous spaces only when he had a compelling reason to do so.

When he saw Richard Paine turn off Sixth Street and head into an alley between Main and Sycamore, he decided he had such a reason. He entered the alley a moment later, followed Paine from a safe distance, and ducked into a recessed doorway when the attorney stopped in front of a loading dock on the back side of Heller's Drug.

Cameron watched with interest as two burly men retrieved wooden crates from the back of a truck and carried them into the store. He watched the truckers load and unload for about a minute and then turned his attention to Paine, who talked to a man with a clipboard.

A moment later, Cameron stepped out of the doorway, walked along the back of a brick bank building, and hid behind a large garbage receptacle. From his new vantage point, about thirty feet away, he could see that the crates contained bottles of some kind.

The time traveler monitored the activity closely as he waited for an opportunity to draw even closer to the elevated platform. When Paine left the dock, continued down the alley, and entered his workplace through its back door, Cameron stepped forward.

As he advanced at a snail's pace, the Rhode Islander focused on the crates, the merchandise, and the numbered labels he could see through the wooden slats. The products looked much like the ones he had seen in the front of Heller's on his first visit to the store.

Cameron kept his eyes down as he moved closer to the truck. He did not want to draw more attention to himself than necessary and, in fact, wanted to give the truckers and the man with the clipboard the impression he was just passing through.

He managed to keep a low profile for ten more seconds. That's when Leonard Heller, druggist, Klan leader, and woman beater, stepped onto the loading dock.

"Mr. Coelho, is that you?" Leonard asked.

Cameron turned around.

"Hi, Mr. Heller. Yes, it's me. How are you today?"

"I'm fine. How about you?"

"I'm fine as well. Thank you for asking."

Heller stepped forward as the truckers continued loading and the man with the clipboard, a store employee, checked off the merchandise. He smiled when he reached the edge of the dock.

"It's been a while since I've seen you," Leonard said.

"It has," Cameron said.

When's the next cross burning?

"Are you still doing research?"

"I am."

"I see," Leonard said.

"You seem surprised."

"I suppose I am."

"Why is that?" Cameron asked.

"I guess because I thought you would be here just a few days. Most visitors to Evansville don't stay long," Leonard said. "Most people don't find this town that interesting."

"I'm not most people. I like this city."

"From what I hear, you like a lot of things."

Cameron laughed.

"I can't argue with that. I admit research isn't the only thing keeping me here."

"You needn't make excuses, Mr. Coelho. Candice Bell is a lovely woman," Leonard said. "There are many men in this town who would love to be in your shoes."

"I imagine there are."

Leonard turned his head when one of the truckers dropped a crate. He returned to Cameron after the man picked up the undamaged merchandise and walked into the store.

"It's hard to get good help these days," Leonard said.

"I don't know. They seem to be doing a fair job," Cameron said. "I've been watching them for a while and have seen them drop only one crate."

"You've been watching them?"

Cameron felt his stomach tighten.

"I have. I'm a student, Mr. Heller. I find everything interesting."

"Is that so?" Leonard asked.

Cameron nodded.

"I can't remember the last time I saw men carry merchandise through the back of a store. Do these guys deliver every day?"

"No. They come just once a week."

"I see," Cameron said. "What are they bringing you today?"

Leonard fixed his gaze.

"They are bringing me the very things you see on my shelves."

"Does that include the bottles in the front of the store?" Cameron asked.

Leonard tilted his head.

"You ask a lot of questions, Mr. Coelho."

Cameron smiled warmly.

"I'm just curious, Mr. Heller. I apologize if I've taken up too much of your time," Cameron said. He tipped his hat. "Have a nice day."

CHAPTER 37: CAMERON

Saturday, May 16, 1925

As he finished his peach pie, leaned back in his chair, and gazed across the candlelit table at the woman in pink, Cameron concluded two things. The first was that Candice knew how to cook. The second was that dinner with one Bell beat dinner with five.