Indiana Belle (American Journey Book 3) (22 page)

"That was delicious," Cameron said. "That was really good."

"I'm glad you liked it," Candice replied."

"Did your mom teach you how to cook?"

"No. Molly's mom did."

"Who's Molly?"

Cameron knew the answer but asked anyway. He was not prepared to tell Candice that he had read nearly every letter she had written her friend.

"Molly Kennedy is my best friend in the world and my former college roommate," Candice said. "We shared a room at Indiana for two years."

"I see," Cameron said. "Did Molly's mom live with you?"

Candice laughed.

"No. She lived a mile away."

"I figured as much," Cameron said.

"Molly took me home every weekend our freshman year. That's when her mother, a traditional Irish woman, instructed us in the essential arts."

"You mean cooking?"

"I mean
cooking
," Candice said. "Mrs. Kennedy told us that all the education in the world would not help us get a man if we couldn't prepare a roast or bake a pie."

Cameron chuckled.

"She really said that?"

Candice nodded.

"We believed her too."

Cameron laughed and shook his head as he considered the irony of the age. Even in an era where women could vote, chart career paths, and flaunt their sexuality, mothers and daughters believed that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach.

"Do you still keep in touch with Molly?" Cameron asked.

"I do," Candice said. "I write her at least once a month. She's married now and lives in Fort Wayne with her husband and sons."

Cameron smiled.

"It appears that cooking saved her life."

Candice giggled.

"It won't save mine though."

Cameron started to laugh at the funny quip but stopped when he thought about something that was not funny at all. He was not only in a world where women cooked to please their men. He was in a world where one kitchen magician – a woman he respected, admired, and adored – would be brutally murdered in less than seven weeks.

"What's the matter?" Candice asked. "You look down all of a sudden."

"I guess I am," Cameron said. "I just thought of something unpleasant."

"What?"

"I would rather not say."

"You can tell me," Candice said.

Cameron smiled sadly.

"I could, but I don't want to."

Candice tilted her head.

"It can't be that bad."

Actually, it is.

Cameron tried to think himself out of a hole.

"I guess it's not."

"Then what is it?" Candice asked. "What were you thinking about?"

"I was just thinking about something I saw on Tuesday. It was kind of unsettling."

"What did you see?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Cameron said. "I just know it didn't look good."

Candice grinned.

"The plot thickens."

Cameron chuckled.

"You could say that."

"You're speaking in riddles again," Candice said.

Cameron smiled.

"I suppose I am."

Candice crossed her arms.

"Well? What did you see?"

"I saw Richard. I saw Richard Paine in the alley behind Heller's Drug."

"What was he doing?"

"That's the thing," Cameron said. "I'm not sure. He appeared to be supervising a delivery. He watched two truckers as they carried crates into the back of the store."

"He supervised a delivery to
Heller's
?"

Cameron nodded.

"Do you know why he would do that?"

"I don't," Candice said. "I really don't. Did he see you?"

Cameron shook his head.

"I don't think so. I watched from a distance as he talked to a Heller's manager, a man who checked off each crate on a clipboard."

"Did Richard stay very long?"

"No. He watched the men do their work for a few minutes and then left. He walked to his law firm, entered through the back door, and disappeared."

"That does sound strange," Candice said. "What did you do after that?"

Cameron took a breath.

"I continued walking through the alley. When I got close to the loading dock, I saw that the truckers were carrying crates of numbered bottles. The bottles looked a lot like the ones Leonard Heller stashes behind the front counter in his store."

"Did Leonard see you?" Candice asked.

"As a matter of fact, he did. He came out of the building and greeted me just as I tried to slip away unnoticed."

"Did you talk to him?"

Cameron nodded.

"I spoke to him for a few minutes and then left."

"Did he seem suspicious?"

"He did," Cameron said. He laughed. "When I asked him if the men were bringing him merchandise bound for the front of the store, he said that I asked a lot of questions."

"Leonard said that?" Candice asked.

"Yes," Cameron said. "He didn't seem pleased at that point."

Candice frowned.

"I'm sure he wasn't. I wish I could help you make sense of this, but I can't. I've never seen anyone move freight at Heller's. Perhaps what you saw is related to something I've noticed."

"What's that?"

"Leonard's name keeps popping up in revealing documents."

"What documents?" Cameron asked. "What are you talking about?"

"I obtained some records last week that point to a large narcotics ring in Evansville. Leonard is listed on three of the records."

"Is Richard?"

"No," Candice said. "That doesn't mean he's not a part of the ring. It just means I haven't found proof that he is."

"Has Thad turned you loose on local businessmen?"

Candice shook her head.

"No. He's turned George Penn loose."

"Really?"

Candice nodded.

"He's put George on the story and told him to focus exclusively on a banker named Albert Gage. Gage is almost certainly the ringleader."

"Does Thad know what you have?" Cameron asked.

"No. He doesn't know I've been digging. Neither does George."

"Are you going to
keep
digging?"

Candice nodded.

"I am. I want to put these scoundrels away."

"Good for you," Cameron said. He smiled. "No one likes scoundrels."

Candice put her hands on her hips.

"Are you teasing me, Mr. Coelho?"

Cameron chuckled.

"I guess I am. 'Scoundrel' isn't a word I hear every day."

"Oh," Candice said. "What do you call crooks in Providence?"

Cameron smiled.

"Crooks."

Candice stared at him.

"I should send you home now."

Cameron laughed.

"Please don't."

Candice smiled.

"I won't. I like you too much. Besides, I want to show you something."

"What?"

Candice got up from her chair.

"You'll see. Come with me."

"OK."

Cameron placed his napkin on the table and rose from his chair. As he followed Candice from the dining room to the living room, he noticed how much quieter and emptier Lawrence Bell's mansion seemed than on his first visit four weeks earlier.

That made sense. On Sunday, April 19, the house was a hub of family activity. On Saturday, May 16, it was the setting for an intimate date. Marjorie, Lawrence, Lula, and Mary Bell were nowhere to be seen in the lavish living room. They had traveled to Louisville for the weekend to see relatives, a community festival, and a horserace called the Kentucky Derby.

Cameron smiled as he followed Candice to a small table in the living room that supported an appliance the size of a breadbox. He knew even before she fiddled with its three large dials that he was in for a treat. He was about to listen to radio when radio was in its infancy.

"Lawrence bought this last weekend," Candice said. She turned the radio on and tuned it to a local station. "Isn't it the bee's knees?"

Cameron chuckled and nodded. The Atwater Kent Model 20, a state-of-the-art receiver, wasn't just the "bee's knee's." It was also the "cat's pajamas," the "monkey's eyebrows," and the "snake's hips." It was all that and more in an age where so many things were new and exciting.

"It's pretty slick," Cameron said.

"It's mostly a novelty, but I like it," Candice said. "I listen to it at least twice a day to catch up on the news and listen to music."

"What's playing now? I hear men talking."

"This is the farm report. It airs every day at two."

Cameron looked at his hostess.

"So if I want to know when to plant corn, I should listen to these guys?"

"Yes," Candice said.

"What about beans?" Cameron asked. "Will they tell me when to harvest my beans?"

Candice offered a tentative smile.

"Yes."

"What if I want to know the price of sorghum?"

Candice stared at the smartass.

"Then you should read the
Post
."

Cameron laughed.

"I'm sorry. I'm from Rhode Island. We follow tide tables, not farm reports."

"Obviously."

Sensing that he had irritated the fair Miss Bell, Cameron walked up to her, gently led her away from the radio, and pulled her into his arms. He encountered no resistance.

"What if I want to listen to a popular song and dance with a beautiful woman?"

Candice smiled.

"Then you just ask."

Candice slipped out of Cameron's arms, returned to the radio, and turned it off. Then she stepped a few feet to a short wooden stand, cranked the side of a gramophone, and placed the tone arm on a black 78-rpm shellac record. She stepped back when the disc began to spin.

Within seconds, the soothing sound of W.C. Handy and his Memphis Orchestra filled the room and warmed a time-traveler's heart. "St. Louis Blues" had never sounded so good.

Cameron waited for Candice to turn around and acknowledge him. When she did with a smile that never grew old, he returned the smile, stepped forward, and extended a hand.

"Would you like to dance, Miss Bell?"

Candice raised a brow.

"I'd like to do a lot of things, Mr. Coelho."

Cameron chuckled, pulled her in, and followed her lead. He danced to W.C. Handy, Rose Henderson, Clarence Williams, George Gershwin, and King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band. He danced and listened and basked in the warmth of an incredible woman for four more hours, until the music of the Roaring Twenties pushed unpleasant thoughts from his mind and allowed him to imagine a future that wasn't already written in the stars.

CHAPTER 38: CANDICE

Tuesday, May 26, 1925

Candice placed a typewritten article and an incriminating document on Thad Grant's desk, stepped back, and gave the managing editor some time and some space. A moment later, she stepped forward, folded her arms, and stared at her boss.

"Well?" Candice asked. "What do you think?"

"I think I need time to ponder this," Thad said.

"There's nothing to ponder. Leonard Heller is a drug runner."

"We can't run this now."

"Why not?" Candice asked.

"Because we can't. We can't ruin a man with a mere invoice."

"Leonard is already ruined. He ruined himself when he joined the Klan."

"You know what I mean," Thad said.

"No. I don't."

Thad took a breath.

"I admit this doesn't look good. I've had the same suspicions myself."

"Then
act
on those suspicions," Candice said. "Put this man in prison."

Thad looked at the ceiling, as if seeking divine guidance, and then turned his attention to his file drawer. He opened the drawer, pulled out a thick folder, and plopped it on his desk.

"Do you see this folder?" Thad asked.

"Yes," Candice said.

"It's filled with letters."

"What does that have to do with Leonard?"

"It has a lot to do with him," Thad said. "Each of the letters in this folder is a reply to a letter I wrote. I frequently write to my peers around the country and ask for advice on problems they may have faced and solved. Sometimes they give me advice I can use. Sometimes they don't. One thing they agree on is that a newspaper should not go after a prominent businessman or a major advertiser unless it has enough information to nail him to the wall."

"You don't sound like the man who hired me."

"If I don't, it's because I've become wise to the ways of business. If we publish your story now and Leonard is later exonerated, he will own this newspaper. He will sue us into oblivion and win. I would prefer not to go into oblivion. I like Evansville too much."

"So you're not going to publish it?" Candice asked.

"No," Thad said. "I'm not going to publish anything until I have more information. George has already assembled a lot of evidence against others. He has the kind of documentation I need to risk a lawsuit. If he can add to what you've found on Leonard, then I'll proceed."

"It's not fair."

"Need I remind you that this is George's story?"

"No," Candice said.

"He has pursued leads on this drug ring for weeks," Thad said. He handed the article and the invoice back to Candice. "Let him finish the job."

Candice frowned.

"All right."

Thad rubbed his chin.

"Why did you suspect Leonard in the first place?"

"I didn't," Candice said. "Cameron Coelho did. He saw truckers carrying crates into the back of Heller's Drug two weeks ago and thought it looked suspicious. When he told me what he saw, I decided to investigate."

"Did these men work under Leonard's supervision?"

Candice nodded.

"He looked on as they unloaded the freight."

"I see," Thad said.

"They weren't the only ones at the loading dock either."

"What do you mean?"

"Richard Paine was there too," Candice said. "He supervised the truckers and spoke to a Heller's manager before Leonard showed up."

"Mr. Coelho saw all this?"

"Yes."

"Would he be willing to make a statement?" Thad asked.

"He might," Candice said. "I can ask."

"Then do. Ask him soon. If I go after Leonard, I want to do so with every weapon at my disposal. If nothing else, I want to be able to show a judge that we acted in good faith."