Love in Disguise (11 page)

Undeterred, the men renewed their insistence that he join them.

With far more courtesy than he’d shown Lavinia, Bascomb took his leave of the girl and walked across the street.

Could this have anything to do with the case?
As casually as she could, Ellie retraced her steps back across Grant Street and meandered along the storefronts at a leisurely pace. The group of men moved a little farther away, stopping in front of G. F. Lemon’s Furniture Store. One of them turned slightly, and his gaze met Ellie’s. He nudged Bascomb’s elbow and nodded in her direction.

Ellie took three steps forward, then hesitated. She could hardly waltz over to the group and plant herself within listening distance. She strained to hear, but they were too far away for her to make out their words.

What now?
She couldn’t stand there gawking at them, obviously trying to eavesdrop. But where to go?

She glanced around and saw the entrance to the Grand Hotel only a few feet away, on the corner of Grant and Fifth. Without a second thought, she headed straight for it and ducked inside.

“Good morning, ma’am. Can I help you?”

Ellie paused, trying to catch her breath and get her bearings in the dimmer light. A stoop-shouldered man stood behind the counter, eyeing her expectantly. She pulled a lace-edged handkerchief from her sleeve and fanned herself with it. “Actually, I was just feeling a bit weary. I was hoping it might be all right to sit for a few moments and catch my breath. Do you mind?”

With a look of concern on his broad face, the man hurried across the lobby to help her into an overstuffed chair near the window. He hovered solicitously while she settled herself into the cushions. “Would you like a glass of water?”

“Thank you. A drink of water would be lovely.” While the desk clerk bustled off on his errand, Ellie drew her first deep breath since being spotted by the rough men outside and looked around at her surroundings. An oak counter stood at the opposite side of the lobby. Two doors, one of which she assumed led to the hotel office, stood behind it. The center of the room was free of furnishings, save for an Oriental rug that covered most of the floor. To one side, a black-and-chrome woodstove gave off a gentle heat. The seating area she occupied filled the space near the broad plate-glass window that faced out on Grant, while a similar arrangement was grouped near the window looking onto Fifth Street.

Ellie’s pulse quickened. The fine lace curtains made it easy for her to see what was happening on the street without being seen herself. If she angled her position just so—she took advantage of the desk clerk’s absence to scoot her chair a few inches to the right—she had a view of both streets. She leaned back against the comfortable cushion and stared at Bascomb and his companions talking earnestly a few yards away. What a perfect observation post. She couldn’t have designed it better herself.

The clerk returned with her water, and Ellie sipped gratefully. “Thank you ever so much. I hate putting you to all that trouble.”

“No trouble at all, ma’am. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m feeling much better now. Would it be all right if I sat here a little longer?”

“Take all the time you need. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” His smile brightened his drooping features. “My name’s Donald Tidwell, by the way. You just let me know if you need anything.”

Ellie smiled back at him. “Thank you, Mr. Tidwell. I’m Lavinia Stewart. I’m pleased to meet you.”

He went back to his work behind the counter, and Ellie continued watching the marshal and his companions. The little group was breaking up, Bascomb heading west while the others moved east toward Seventh Street and the saloons beyond.

Whatever they’d been talking about, she had missed it. Ellie let out an unladylike huff. Why hadn’t she thought to take up her position in the hotel a few minutes earlier? Even though she couldn’t hear their conversation through the glass, she would at least have been able to observe them closely, maybe even read their lips.

“Are you new in town or just passin’ through?” The desk clerk’s voice broke into her reverie. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“I’m newly arrived. I’ve come to Pickford to look into some mining interests.”

The clerk’s lips rounded, and he seemed suitably impressed. Ellie studied him while pretending to dab at her cheek with her handkerchief. With his stooped shoulders and lanky figure, he looked more suited for an office job back east. At least he was friendly, she thought, remembering the clerk in Kansas City.

She peered out onto Grant Street and then looked toward Fifth, but nothing out of the ordinary caught her eye. Ellie gripped the padded arms of the chair and pushed herself upright, ready to take her leave.

What a shame she had missed her opportunity to do an effective job of spying on Bascomb and his group. The setup of the hotel made it a perfect lookout post. If only she had a reason for returning on a regular basis. “Thank you again for your hospitality. That little rest was just what I needed.”

The clerk bobbed his head. “My pleasure, ma’am. My aunt back in Missouri has a bad knee and can’t walk too far at one time. She has to take a breather every so often, just like you. Say, do you want to see something while you’re sitting there?”

Without waiting for Ellie’s reply, the man pulled a short piece of rope from his pocket and held both ends in one hand. “I’m going to tie a knot in the end of this rope, just by snapping it forward.”

Raising his arm as though he was getting ready to crack a whip, he swung his hand down sharply, turning loose of one end of the rope as he did so. When the free end flew forward, Ellie could see that it sported a neatly tied square knot.

She laughed and clapped her hands. “Delightful! I know there’s some sort of trick involved, but I have no idea how it was done.”

The clerk’s face glowed with pleasure. He pulled off his spectacles and polished the round lenses with a cloth he pulled from his pocket. “It’s just a little hobby of mine, ma’am. Glad you liked it. Feel free to come in here any time you’re walking around town and find you need to sit for a spell. I’d be glad to see you again.”

Ellie smiled, trying to hide her elation. “What a thoughtful offer. I expect I’ll take you up on that.” Before she reached the door, it burst open and a man with a weathered face and wearing a black slouch hat brushed past her. Without so much as a glance in her direction, he strode straight up to the counter.

“What room is Earl Porter in?”

The clerk grew pale. “He isn’t here.”

The rough-voiced man loomed over the counter, and the clerk backed up several steps. “When he shows up, you tell him I want to see him. He’d better not keep me waiting.” He pivoted on his heel and gave Ellie a penetrating stare, as if noticing her for the first time.

She scuttled out of the lobby as quickly as she could manage. Once she reached the boardwalk, she held herself back to a sedate walk instead of giving in to a desire to hitch up her skirts and race headlong toward Charles Street and the sanctuary of her little home.

What had she gotten herself into? The scene she’d just witnessed, brief as it was, had made her skin crawl. Every adventure from the penny dreadfuls she’d read flashed through her mind. This was the Wild West. She couldn’t treat her job as some sort of lark. People sometimes ended up dead out in the untamed wilderness.

Two blocks from the hotel and its ill-mannered visitor, she stopped and leaned against the front of Levi Jewelers. She needed a few moments to catch her breath and collect her wits. That horrible man’s actions had nothing to do with her. There was no basis for the fear that filled her being.

No one knew who she was or what she was doing in Pickford. She once again blessed the Pinkertons for their admonition not to let anyone know her true identity. As long as she kept up appearances as harmless, nonthreatening Lavinia Stewart, she should be able to continue her investigation unhampered and unharmed.

When her heart settled back into its usual rhythm, she walked on, making a mental note to add the churlish man to her growing list of potential suspects. She supposed she should list the clerk, as well, harmless as he seemed.

At least she had gained one success to her credit, arranging to spend more time at the hotel. She could observe both the clerk and some of the guests up close that way without seeming to take any personal interest in them.

She would keep an eye out for that boorish fellow, too. But she would do that from a distance.

As she mounted the steps to her front porch, Ellie heard the branches of the lilac bush rustle. She cleared her throat, and the rustling subsided. She pulled her key from her reticule and unlocked the front door without further comment, reminding herself to make sure the curtains were drawn tight.

Back in the safety of her snug little house, she bolted the door and closed the curtains, then pulled out her papers and jotted down her morning’s observations while they were still fresh in her mind. With that chore out of the way, she went to her bedroom, where she pulled off her wig, arranged it on the wig stand, and ran her fingers through her hair. After that she removed her spectacles, unwound her leg wrappings, pulled out the wax plumpers, and plopped down on the bed.

For the thousandth time, she wished Norma hadn’t abandoned her. She needed someone to talk to, someone she could confide in and speak her mind clearly to without having to resort to coded messages. She punched the pillow into a mass of fluffy comfort and propped it against the headboard, then settled back against it, trying to imagine what would be happening now if Norma had come out with her as planned. They might be sipping tea over at the table, comparing notes, assessing what they had learned so far, and deciding what to do next.

What would Norma say if she were here? Ellie had no way of knowing, but she felt sure her senior partner would have made significantly better progress than she had so far. People were nice enough to Lavinia, but they hadn’t proven to be founts of information about any nefarious schemes in their midst.

Early afternoon sunlight filtered in through the curtains, throwing the wig and its stand into shadows and creating the illusion that an actual person sat in the room with her. Giving in to the fanciful notion, Ellie tilted her head and addressed the gray wig.

“Lavinia, you’re a dear woman, but you aren’t likely to get into the places and talk to the kinds of people who are going to know more about the seamy side of this town. If Norma was here, I’ll bet she could figure out a way to let Jessie strike up a conversation with people who’d never take a second glance at a respectable woman like you.”

She pushed herself up higher on the pillow. “I hate to say it, but the Pinkertons were right. You’re wonderful as a chaperone, but you’re entirely
too
respectable to handle Jessie’s part of the job.”

When she squinted, she could almost imagine the wig nodding.

How could she ever have thought she’d be able to carry out the job on her own? People were civil to Lavinia, but the men who might possess the information she needed wouldn’t do more than tip their hat to the gray-haired woman and pass on by. She needed a partner.

And that wasn’t likely to happen. It had been hard enough for the Pinkertons to find someone to take on Lavinia’s role. She couldn’t expect another Jessie to appear out of nowhere. And she didn’t dare tell the home office she needed help. She was on probation. If she admitted she couldn’t handle her first assignment, they would have no reason to take her seriously.

She stared at the wig. What would Lavinia say if she truly existed? Ellie closed her eyes and waited for inspiration.

“What if you brought in help without asking them for it?”

Ellie jumped. It was almost as if the older woman had actually spoken. As inspiration went, though, that suggestion was sadly lacking. How was she supposed to find help on her own? It would be too dangerous for her to reveal herself to anyone in Pickford.

But the idea, once formed, wouldn’t leave her alone. It persisted, hovering around her like a buzzing fly. She had become Lavinia easily enough. Why not become Jessie, as well?

Ellie sat bolt upright, feeling as though someone had set off fireworks in her brain. Could it work?

No, of course not. She was mousy Ellie, the one nobody noticed. It was one thing to transform herself into a middle-aged woman men wouldn’t look at twice. Quite another to take on a personality so unlike her own.

Tears stung her eyes. It was a lovely idea, but try to turn herself into a dazzler like Norma . . . ? That would be like making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. It simply couldn’t be done.

But she was an actress, wasn’t she? This was no time to sell herself short. And there was a red wig in the costume hamper. . . .

Before she could talk herself out of it, Ellie bolted across the room and yanked open the lid to the hamper, where she found the red wig folded neatly in tissue paper about halfway down. She pulled it out and gave it a good shake, eyeing the coppery curls touched with glints of gold. Very much like Norma’s hair. With a little touching up, it would be a style and color well suited for catching the attention of any male on the street who had a spark of life in him.