Mercury's Rise (Silver Rush 04) (34 page)

But she couldn’t sleep.

Tossing about on the unfamiliar spring bed and listening to the creek’s constant babble and the symphony of frogs, Inez thought of the Paces and Calder and Susan. Of tonic bottles, poisons, and handkerchiefs soaked with bloody sputum. Of Mark and the Reverend Justice Sands.

She drifted off into uneasy sleep, only to be awakened by the loud crunch of carriage wheels over gravel. She got up, thinking it would be a reasonable time to use the chamber pot. Before pulling it out from its cabinet, she went to the window and lifted one side of the drawn roller blind. She saw a cloaked figure climb out of the buggy and disappear under the hotel veranda. The driver, invisible under the dark top, waited. The harnessed horse stamped and shook its head. Inez couldn’t be certain in the night, but given its size and its stance, she thought the horse might be Calder’s.

Through her open window, Inez heard the front door open and close. The driver slapped the reins, and the horse and buggy proceeded around the building toward the hotel livery. Inez leaned close to the glass, watching the buggy disappear from view.
If I’d taken the other bedroom, I’d have a window on that side and perhaps even see who exits the livery after dropping off horse and buggy!

There was nothing to be done but complete her business and return to bed. Now, she had something else to think about.
If the driver was Robert Calder, then who was the passenger? He took Susan back to the Ohio House. Surely, he didn’t bring her back here.

Inez banished the scandalous thought from her mind. She knew Susan as well as anyone and could not believe that, even in the heat of a whirlwind summer romance, she would risk her reputation in such a flagrant manner.

With a troubled sigh, Inez turned on her side, wrapped the feather pillow about her ears, and finally drifted off to sleep.

***

Inez waited in the lobby of the Cliff House while the bellboy took her calling card up to Mrs. Pace. As was proper, she had written “To Inquire” at the top of card. She hoped Mrs. Pace would agree to see her, despite being in seclusion, and that the formal inquiry would be enough of an entry for the widow to accept a visitor without comment from hotel staff.

The bellhop reappeared and said, “Mrs. Pace said to bring you up to her rooms.”

Inez followed him up a flight of stairs and onto a second floor much like the one at the Manitou Springs House. The wallpaper was different, a different carpet covered the wood floor, the gaslights had different shades, and the niche at the top of the stairs held a stand with a vase of cut flowers instead of a statue of Hermes. Like the Mountain Springs House, the Cliff House also had a double veranda. When Inez remarked on the similarities, the bellhop, who was a nephew of the owner, gleefully noted that unlike the Mountain Springs House, the Cliff House had a billiards hall, a third floor, and even a telescope on the rooftop for stargazing. “You should stay here on your next visit,” the earnest young man said. “We are ever so much better than the Mountain Springs House.”

“But you haven’t a resident physician,” remarked Inez.

He looked sly. “Not yet. But my uncle swears that before the year is out, he’ll either have convinced the doctor there to join up with us or he’ll find someone just as good, if not better.”

Inez tucked that intriguing bit of gossip away for further mulling.

Upon being announced and entering, Inez looked around the sitting room, and decided that the Cliff House and the Mountain Springs House must have shared the same architect and decorator for the rooms as well.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Inez said.

Kirsten Pace sat by the window, her heavy crape veil and hat on the nearby window seat, a silver tea service ready and waiting on a low table. “Mrs. Stannert, I am glad you came. I meant to leave you a note, but I left the Mountain Springs House on short notice, and there was much to gather up and organize.” She indicated a nearby empty chair aslant of her own. “Please, sit and tell me if you have any news. The children and Miss Warren are on a day excursion to Cheyenne Canyon, and I have only myself and my memories for company. I took the liberty of ordering tea for us.”

“Most kind of you.” Inez sat and began cautiously, “You asked for my help a few days ago. I agreed, but I had no idea how difficult it would be to gather information. However, my husband arrived last night, and we have put out that he is interested in exploring business opportunities. We shall see how it evolves. Meanwhile, I have some questions for you.”

“Please ask. Anything to lift the mystery of my husband’s death.”

“Do you know, were any papers signed, agreements sealed?”

“None, as far as I know. I think they would have said something, even given the circumstances, if it were otherwise. Too, my husband was unusual in that, if he was going to sign an agreement, he would have included me in the room. Even if we disagreed about a particular venture, if it wasn’t directly related to his day-to-day business, he always asked that I be present.” Mrs. Pace shook her head. “I am certain. No papers were signed.”

Another question popped into Inez’s mind as a result of Mrs. Pace’s comment. It hadn’t been on her list to ask, but it was something she’d wondered about. “Do you happen to know where Mr. Lewis conducts hotel business? Surely not at the reception desk or in the gentlemen’s parlor.”

Mrs. Pace lifted her hat and smoothed the veil, before setting it back down. “There is a small room just past the gentlemen’s parlor. The children and I accompanied my husband there once. They wanted to see where he spent his days doing ‘business,’ while we went out on picnics and excursions.” She smiled sadly. “Mr. Lewis graciously allowed Mathilda and Atticus to come in and look around. It was clearly just a room for signing papers or discussion. No bookcases, no safe, a minimal amount of papers and furniture.”

“Hmm. There must be a working office elsewhere. Too, the hotel seems full to capacity. There are no other buildings on the grounds, besides the livery and the clinic. Where do Mr. Lewis, Mr. Epperley, Mrs. Crowson, and the rest of the staff reside?”

“I can’t speak for the regular staff. Mr. Epperley once made a remark that indicated he and a few other men from ‘across the pond’ set up housekeeping elsewhere in town.”

Inez tapped a finger on the handle of her closed parasol. “What of Mr. Lewis and Mrs. Crowson?”

Mrs. Pace hesitated and then said, “Did you know there is a lower level to the hotel?”

A tickle of excitement ran down Inez’s back. “As a matter of fact, I recently discovered a door under the far side of the veranda.”

Mrs. Pace nodded. “The children—Mathilda and Atticus—were playing hide and seek in the hotel one day, and they somehow gave Miss Warren the slip. She and I were searching, and I found a staircase that led downstairs.”

“Where?” Inez interrupted.

“Continue down the hall between the music room and the dining room, all the way to the end. There are no rooms in that direction, so no reason a guest would ever come across it. I took the stairs. A mother has a sixth sense, I just felt certain they were probably playing their game down there. It was quite a revelation, there is an entire lower story to the hotel. At the bottom of the stairs to the left, there is an enormous storage area. To the right was a hallway. My children were in the corridor, peering through a keyhole and whispering. Of course I spoke sharply to them. I’ve taught them better manners than that! They jumped back, the door flew open, and there was Mr. Lewis! I think he was as surprised as I was. The area behind him was considerably illuminated, so the room had either windows or lighting fixtures of some sort, I suppose.”

“You think he lives down there?” Inez was intrigued.

“That is my thought,” she said. “He closed the door quickly behind him, so I saw nothing of the inside. He told us, ‘This is a private area. Off-limits to guests.’” She paused. “He was very firm when he said it. Not angry. I don’t think I ever saw him truly angry during our entire stay, but he was definitely disturbed to see us.”

“If he toils down there, most likely the working papers of the hotel are there as well,” said Inez, thinking aloud. “Particularly since there is not a proper office upstairs.”

“That would make sense.” Mrs. Pace agreed.

“Do you think Mrs. Crowson also resides in that nether world? Unless she rooms somewhere in town.”

“Well, here is the thing.” Mrs. Pace lifted the lid, and satisfied at last, poured the steaming liquid into porcelain cups. The fragrant scent of English breakfast tea wafted over Inez. “While we stood in the hallway, I detected the strong scent of mint. I immediately thought of my tonic, of course, but my very next thought was—”

“Nurse Crowson’s tea,” finished Inez.

“Too, there was a door across the hall from Lewis’,” added Mrs. Pace. “Another set of rooms, perhaps, for Mrs. Crowson? It makes sense for her to live on the grounds, since she works so closely with the physician and helps the invalid guests. In any case, that was that. Mr. Lewis locked the door behind himself, escorted us up to the lobby, and went on his way. Miss Warren was nearly beside herself with worry. I gave the children a good scolding and told them not to go down there again. Cream? Sugar?”

“Sugar, please. One lump.”

Mrs. Pace complied and handed Inez the porcelain cup and saucer.

“Thank you,” said Inez. “Your perceptions are very helpful.”

“Are they? Do they provide insight into my husband’s death?”

“Perhaps. I need to puzzle it out. But I do have a sense about these things. If I could just get into those rooms…” She realized she was speaking aloud, and stopped. “I do have a couple of questions about your trip to Leadville.” She hated to ask, but felt she must. “What happened the night before you left?”

Kirsten lifted her teacup to her lips and pondered. Then, she lowered the cup, without tasting, and said, “It had been a long day. I had hoped to go to some of the mines with my husband, but the altitude was difficult for me, so I returned to the hotel to rest instead. The children, Miss Warren, and I ate dinner in the hotel’s dining room and retired early. Mr. Pace came in late that night. He seemed agitated. He woke me and Miss Warren, and told us we would all be leaving Leadville in the morning. Luckily, we had not unpacked much, as it was only to be a short trip. We left before dawn to catch the stagecoach.”

“Do you know where he went that evening?” Inez persisted. She held her breath, awaiting Mrs. Pace’s answer, waiting to hear if she mentioned the Silver Queen or a wild night of gambling.

Mrs. Pace shook her head. “I supposed he was taking dinner with some of the promoters he had met that day. Given his attitude upon returning, I assumed that talks had not gone well at all. He was most anxious to leave town.” She sighed. “It was so strange. We had embarked on the journey to Leadville with high hopes and optimism. Something must have happened for him to turn so completely on the town and its prospects.”

Inez set her mouth in a grim line. Clearly, Mr. Pace did not confide in his wife over the debacle at the gaming table.
So like a man to crow about his wins but stay mum on his losses.

She weighed saying something to the widow about what had happened at the saloon, decided against it, and said gently instead, “Sometimes that happens in Leadville. I have lived there long enough to see many arrive full of hope and optimism, only to be dashed by the harsh realities. Perhaps your husband saw the truth sooner than most and wisely decided there was no reason to stay. But now, I have something I want to ask you.”

She pulled the small tonic bottle from her purse. Mrs. Pace’s eyes went wide.

“I found it on the floor of the stagecoach,” Inez said. “The stopper, too.”

Mrs. Pace took it gingerly, as if its very surface could contaminate.

Inez leaned forward. “How many bottles did you take to Leadville?”

The widow rubbed her finger down the side of the smooth brown glass. “We were to be up there five days, so it was five bottles.”

“How many did you consume?”

“One for the day we took the train up,” she said aloud. “One for the day there, another for our first day back on the stagecoach.” She looked down. “And this one, on the second day on the coach.”

“So you had one left over?”

She nodded.

“Do you still have it?”

“When Miss Warren unpacked the carpet bag, I took the bottle and emptied its contents.”

“I understand,” Inez said gently. “Do you still have the bottle?”

“I turned it back to the formulary. They always collect the bottles afterwards. Perhaps it is a way of keeping track of the doses.” Mrs. Pace ran a thumb over the top of the bottle, frowning.

“Is something wrong?” Inez asked.

“The stopper, it’s just darker than I recall. Perhaps from being on the floor of the stagecoach.”

“Would you open the bottle and tell me if it smells different from what you had before?”

Mrs. Pace took out the cork and handed it to Inez. She held the bottle tentatively up to her nose, and inhaled. “Mint,” she said. “The bottle is empty, but there is still a strong mint smell. I think this is stronger than usual, but I can’t be certain.”

Inez was examining the cork, frowning. The top surface was indeed darker compared to the rest of the wax, down the sides to the point where the cork would seal.