Indiana Belle (American Journey Book 3) (23 page)

"I understand."

Candice frowned. She wished this man she admired was willing to show a little more backbone, but she understood his reluctance to move forward. Thad had to consider not only his reputation but also the financial security of everyone who worked at the
Post
.

"Can we change the topic now?" Thad asked.

Candice huffed.

"I suppose."

Thad sighed.

"Thank you."

"What else do you want to discuss?" Candice asked.

"I want to talk about this weekend," Thad said.

"What about this weekend?"

"Are you doing anything special on Saturday?"

"No. I don't think so," Candice said. "Why do you ask?"

"I ask because an advertiser, one who is not suspected of drug running, gave me a gift this morning," Thad said. "He gave me a gift I can't use."

Candice grinned.

"Did he give you a girdle?"

The editor laughed.

"No. He gave me something far more practical."

"Oh? What's that?"

Thad reached into his pocket and pulled out some tickets.

"He gave me these," Thad said. He smiled. "Do you like cars?"

CHAPTER 39: CAMERON

Speedway, Indiana – Saturday, May 30, 1925

The cars whizzed by like flying cigars. Moving in excess of one hundred miles per hour around an oval track two and a half miles long, the vehicles inspired, dazzled, and amazed.

Cameron had seen a NASCAR Sprint Cup Series race in Loudon, New Hampshire, in 2008, but he conceded that even that did not compare to this. Watching the Indianapolis 500 in the age of brick tracks, relief drivers, and goggles was an experience unto itself.

"Are you having fun?" Candice asked.

"Yeah," Cameron said. He smiled. "I'm pretty much in heaven."

Candice laughed.

"I'm glad I took those tickets. I admit I hesitated at first."

"Why?"

"I didn't think I would have any use for them," Candice said. "No one in my family had ever expressed interest in automobile racing. I see now I misjudged everyone."

Cameron glanced at the others and saw she had a point. Lawrence watched the race through binoculars he had purchased that morning. Marjorie followed the spectacle with wide eyes. Lula bounced Mary on her knees and kissed her every time she squealed at the passing cars.

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Cameron said. "We all misjudge others."

"Have you misjudged me?" Candice asked.

Cameron patted her hand.

"No. You're exactly what I thought you would be."

Candice giggled.

"I'm afraid to ask what that is."

Cameron gave her a loving gaze.

"You shouldn't. It's all good."

Candice responded with a skeptical smile and a sidelong glance but otherwise let the matter drop. If she suspected that he did not mean what he had said, she did not show it.

Cameron would not have cared if she had. He would state his intentions soon enough. He had already decided to bring her into his life. The only question was when, how, and where.

He knew that the key to winning her over was telling her the truth. He planned to do so in a week. Then he would travel to California, search Needle Peak for the elusive cave, and return to Indiana, if necessary, to pursue a happy future with a bewitching woman.

"You seem deep in thought," Candice said.

"I am," Cameron replied.

Candice smiled.

"Are you going to share those thoughts?"

"No," Cameron said. He chuckled. "I will someday, but not today."

Candice raised a brow.

"It appears I may have to investigate another Evansville man."

Cameron laughed again.

"Please don't. You may not like what you find."

"I'll take my chances," Candice said.

"You do that."

Cameron smiled at Candice and then turned back to the race as it drew to a close. He paid particular attention to a twenty-seven-year-old Philadelphian named Pete DePaolo.

Driving Car Number 12, a Duesenberg Special, DePaolo had dominated the event almost from the start and drew loud cheers from 150,000 fans as he began his last lap. By the time he headed down the final stretch, the massive crowd was on its feet.

"This is so exciting!" Candice shouted.

"It is," Cameron answered over the deafening roar.

The time traveler glanced at the others in his party and saw that they, too, were making the most of the moment. They stood and cheered loudly as DePaolo sped past their seats and took the checkered flag more than a lap ahead of his nearest competitor.

Cameron would learn later that DePaolo had finished the race with an average speed of 101 miles per hour. He was the first driver in the thirteen-year history of the event to complete the 500-mile course in less than five hours.

Cameron watched with fascination over the next hour as officials made speeches, DePaolo collected his prize, and thousands of fans headed for their cars. When the time came to leave the speedway, he took Candice's hand, guided her to the exit, and pondered
his
next act. It was time, he thought, to make his own mark on history.

CHAPTER 40: CANDICE

Evansville, Indiana – Tuesday, June 2, 1925

Candice pulled the invoice from her purse and walked across Room 208 of the Vanderburgh Hotel. When she reached the handsome man sitting at a small desk, she placed the document on the desk, stepped back, and waited for his reaction.

"What's this?" Cameron asked.

"It's proof that Leonard Heller is the devil himself," Candice said. "Do the numbers next to those products look familiar?"

Cameron inspected the paper closely.

"Yeah. They do."

"I'm sure they match the bottles and boxes behind the counter at Heller's. Leonard is selling liquor and narcotics, in plain sight, to customers who request them by number. When they 'ask about' his 'elixirs' the right way, he provides them with illegal substances."

"Why would he do that?" Cameron asked. "Why would he take that risk? Wouldn't it be safer to distribute these products at remote locations in the middle of the night?"

"One would think so," Candice said. "Most bootleggers and smugglers think so. They have been operating that way for years."

"So why doesn't Leonard?"

"He doesn't because he knows how the police and prohibition agents operate. He knows that they focus their attention on isolated warehouses and trucks that make deliveries after hours. Then there's the other thing. Most bootleggers and smugglers don't have legitimate businesses to sell their wares. Leonard does. He has set up the perfect operation."

"That still doesn't make sense. The police could walk into Heller's at any time and seize those bottles and boxes. They could do it today."

"They could."

"Then why does Leonard take the risk?" Cameron asked.

"He does because, once again, he knows how the system works. He knows the police would have to get a warrant before they could search his business. That could take hours."

"So?"

"So that would give him ample time to hide or destroy his contraband and rotate legitimate products to the front of the store," Candice said. "I have no doubt that he has informants on his payroll. He would know a search was coming the moment it was requested."

Cameron looked at her with adoring eyes.

"You're amazing. You know that?"

Candice smiled.

"I'm a journalist who cares about her community."

Cameron laughed.

"You didn't seem to care when we visited the Cathouse."

Candice raised a brow.

"The Cathouse is in Kentucky. It can police its own affairs."

Cameron shook his head and laughed again.

"I see I've fallen for a moral relativist."

"Have you?" Candice asked.

"Have I what?"

"Have you fallen for me?"

Cameron pushed his chair back, stood up, and handed the invoice to the moral relativist. Then he stepped forward, placed his hands on her cheeks, and gave her a soft kiss.

"Yeah," Cameron said. "I have."

Candice liked hearing the words. Even if she knew he had fallen for her weeks ago, she still liked hearing a decent man tell her that she was his sun and his moon.

"Well, that settles that," Candice said. "We like each other!"

Both of them laughed.

"I suppose we do," Cameron said. He kissed her a second time. "Can you hold down the fort while I run downstairs? I forgot to pick up my suit and want to wear it to dinner tonight."

"I can do that," Candice said. "Your castle is safe."

Cameron smiled, kissed her again, and opened the door. He exited the room, shut the door, and started down the hallway before Candice could savor a special moment.

Candice liked this man. She liked him a lot. She liked everything about him, in fact, except perhaps his secretive nature. She planned to remedy that at the first opportunity.

Candice put the invoice, a gift from a friend, in her purse and pondered the days ahead. She did not look forward to turning the town upside down or giving Thad Grant an ulcer, but she knew she would do it if she had to. She would destroy Leonard Heller even if her friend, a Heller's employee, refused to testify against him. She would do it if it were the last thing she did.

The society editor walked over to the room's single bed, plopped on top, and made herself comfortable. She scanned the chamber's chipped walls, dirty floor, and outdated light fixtures and wondered how Richard Paine made a profit.

Then she glanced at two objects on the bed and slid toward them to get a closer look. The first object was the leather satchel that Cameron carried almost everywhere. The second was a portfolio that Candice had never seen or at least could not remember seeing.

Succumbing to temptation, Candice reached for the portfolio, pulled it out from under the satchel, and placed it on her lap. She hesitated for a moment, glanced at the door, and then slowly opened the leather folder. She immediately wished she had not.

Candice expected to find papers that shed light on Cameron's identity. She instead found papers that shed light on her own. She found strange reproductions of letters she had written to Molly Kennedy, pages from her own diary, and a sepia photograph she had kept in a drawer at work and not yet given to her family.

Confused, hurt, and angry, she plunged ahead. She opened the satchel, pulled out the contents, and spread them across the bed. In seconds, she found a mother lode of betrayal.

Cameron Coelho, it seemed, had been a busy boy. He had stolen more than her private letters, diary pages, and favorite photo. He had taken copies of some of her best news articles and society columns, including a story she had written but not yet
published
.

Fearing that time was running out, Candice moved quickly to the one other object she had never seen before: a small book that looked like a diary. She needed only a few seconds to determine that the book belonged to man she had never known but revered as much as anything. It was the long-lost private journal of her beloved father, Henry Wainwright Bell.

Candice threw the portfolio and the papers into the satchel, closed the bag, and tossed it near the pillow. Then she grabbed Henry's journal and the photo, collected her purse, and headed for the exit.

She didn't make it halfway before her boyfriend – her lying, stealing, deceitful boyfriend – opened the door and entered the room. She hesitated for a second, tightened her hold on the journal and the photo, and stepped forward.

"Where are you going?" Cameron asked.

"I'm going home," Candice said. "Now move aside."

Cameron reacted quickly. He tossed his suit on the desk, stepped in front of the door, and threw his hands forward.

"Whoa! Slow down."

"Get out of my way," Candice said.

Cameron glanced at the bed and then at the impertinent woman.

"I'm not budging until you tell me why you're leaving."

The impertinent woman fumed.

"You want to know why I'm leaving? I'll tell you why. I found this and this," Candice said as she raised the journal and the photo in rapid succession. "I found evidence that you're a liar and a thief and God knows what else."

"I can explain," Cameron said.

"There's nothing to explain, Mr. Coelho, if that's your name. You stole from me. You stole my letters, my diary, and a picture I planned to give you this week. Worst of all, you stole my father's legacy. You stole something I've been trying to find my whole life. That makes you more than a thief. It makes you a truly vile man. Now move!"

Candice charged forward and this time encountered no resistance. She surged past Cameron, slammed the door shut, and stormed down the hall.

As she descended the steps, stomped through the lobby, and exited the hotel, she thought not only about Cameron's betrayal but also about all the violations of her trust. She was done with trust, she thought. She was done with
men
. If she did nothing else in the years that remained to her, she would make their lives a living hell.

CHAPTER 41: CAMERON

Friday, June 5, 1925

Like most women, Candice Bell had a forgiving side. Hidden beneath thick layers of distrust, skepticism, and hostility was a side that gave even lying, thieving men a second chance.

Cameron set out to find that side Thursday night. After taking two full days to consider his sins, ponder his losses, and chart a new course, he walked to the Bell mansion, knocked on the door, and asked to speak to the woman he had wronged.

She refused to see him. She refused to leave her room and instructed her mother and sister-in-law to tell her remorseful suitor to "hop back to Providence on a pogo stick."

So Cameron handed Lula a sealed envelope, asked her to give it to Candice, and waited for a reply. He finally got one on Friday at two, when Candice, as requested, met him at a picnic table in Sunset Park not far from the place they first kissed.