Murder on the Last Frontier (16 page)

“I know your business is important to you, Brigit, but more important than putting away the person responsible? What if he tries again?”

“I'm as determined to have justice for Darcy as you are,” she assured Charlotte. “I just can't hand over a list of names. I'd be ruined, and there's no guarantee it would help.”

“Just a few names that might come to mind.” Charlotte got up and stepped in front of her. She grasped Brigit's forearm and gently squeezed. “Please. Deputy Eddington has little to go on. He needs your help. Darcy needs your help.”

Brigit's expression became pained. “If there was someone about whom I could say, ‘Yes, him,' I'd tell you, Charlotte. In a heartbeat. But there was no one from that night who'd fit the bill. Sure, Darcy had regulars, well-off and well-married regulars who'd have my head if I revealed their activities. But none were here that night. It's a delicate balance, running a house these days. Half the town shows up on my doorstep, while the other half wants to run me off.”

The dichotomy of a growing frontier town, Charlotte thought. Ignore or even secretly participate in seamier behavior as long as it didn't interfere with public efforts to become “civilized.”

She moved her hand away from Brigit's arm. Charlotte believed the madam, but that didn't help the case. Just as she was about to thank Brigit for her time, a thought struck her.

“None of those men came here,” she said, “but did any of them get word to Darcy? A call or a note, maybe, to meet them? Something or someone drew Darcy outside when she should have been resting.”

Brigit shook her head. “We were all very busy. No one had much time to answer the phone or run secret messages. Except—” Her eyes widened; her entire body stilled. She pushed herself away from the desk and went to the door. Opening it, she called out, “Charlie!”

Charlotte heard the boy's feet pound down the stairs then across the hall. “Yes, ma'am?”

She knelt down in front of him and grasped his shoulders. “Did you take any sort of message to Darcy that night?” He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again, his eyes darting to Charlotte. Brigit shook him gently to regain his attention. “Look at me. Tell me what happened.”

“I-I went outside to play night tag with Nick and Davey.” His sheepish expression told Charlotte he wasn't supposed to be out at that hour.

“And?” Brigit didn't chastise the boy for his misbehavior. There were more important things to worry about than breaking curfew.

“A man called me over as I was coming home,” he said. “Gave me a couple of tokens for the drugstore to take the note in.” Charlie glanced up at Charlotte again.

Wooden or metal tokens were a popular form of currency in areas where government-issued coins were scarce. Inscribed with a specific store's name, they were as good as cash at that establishment. What kid wouldn't do something as simple as deliver a note if it meant a piece of candy or a soda?

“Who was the man?” Charlotte asked, keeping her tone soft despite the growing anticipation that the boy had critical information he hadn't shared.

“I dunno,” he said. “He was kinda tall, wore a dark coat and hat.”

Charlotte considered Charlie's age and height. Anyone over sixteen or eighteen was probably a grown man to him. “How about his build, Charlie? Was he fat? Skinny?”

“Not fat, like Mr. Toliver. More like Doc Brody, sorta skinny.”

Charlie's associating her brother with Brigit's house threw Charlotte for a moment. Then she remembered he was here frequently to tend to the girls, and likely tended Charlie as well.

“Charlie, you know just about everyone in this town.” His mother dug her fingers into his shoulders. “Who was he?”

“I dunno, Mama, I swear.” Tears brimmed, but didn't fall. “It was dark and rainy, and I was in a hurry. He gave me the note and the tokens and nudged me toward the house. Didn't say anything but my name, and his hat was pulled way down.” Charlie dug into his trouser pocket and withdrew two wooden tokens. He held them out. “Here. I didn't think it would hurt no one.” His voice cracked. “I didn't think Darcy would get killed for it.”

“Why didn't you tell anyone?” Brigit asked.

“I didn't see him good and didn't want to get into trouble for being out.” Charlie's lower lip quivered. “I'm sorry, Mama.”

Charlotte's chest tightened. “It's not your fault, Charlie.”

“No, of course it isn't, honey.” Brigit loosened her grip and caressed his narrow shoulders. She smoothed a lock of hair from his forehead. “You keep the tokens. It's all right. Go on now and help the girls.”

Charlie spun around and ran out of the office. Brigit rose slowly. She faced Charlotte, looking weary and sad. Her obvious emotion combined with the boy's statement didn't completely exonerate her, but it was less likely, in Charlotte's mind, that Brigit had killed the girl.

“At least we know how he got Darcy out of the house,” Brigit said.

“It's more than we had before.” Charlotte set her hat on her head. She approached Brigit and gathered the woman's hands in hers. “I'm sorry your boy had to go through that, but please make sure he understands he's helped the case.”

Brigit nodded and squeezed Charlotte's fingers. “I will. I think he was more at ease telling it while you were here than when Eddington came around. I didn't want Charlie in the room that morning. It was no place for a boy his age, talking about what happened. And we're kind of skittish around lawmen.”

Charlotte grinned before releasing her hands. “James can be a bit intimidating.”

Brigit quirked an eyebrow. “James, is it?” Charlotte felt a flush rise. “He is a handsome one, for sure. Here, I have to make my appointment with the banker. I'll walk with you, if you're headed back up.”

Brigit retrieved her coat and umbrella from the hall closet. She and Charlotte walked the path behind the house and up toward town. At the top of the rise, not far from the back of Michael's office, Charlotte had a good view of the walkway behind the buildings that paralleled Main Street. The wooden footbridge spanning the sixty-foot gap in the ridge upon which Cordova was built appeared solid, with safety rails to prevent anyone from falling onto the rocky beach below. The elevated railroad tracks, farther out over the water, serviced the canneries to the northwest.

Darcy and her killer had come this way. Did she cry out? Had the wind muffled her calls for help? A wave of guilt rippled through Charlotte.
I should have looked out the window sooner
.

“You all right?” Brigit asked.

Charlotte shook herself out of futile thoughts and offered an apologetic smile. “Just thinking. Sorry, I didn't mean to delay you getting to your meeting.”

Rather than travel along the footbridge, the two of them walked to Main Street. The bank was near McGruder's store, a couple of blocks past the federal building, where Charlotte was headed, and just far enough to require more than companionable silence. It wouldn't hurt to gather some information on Brigit while they walked.

“Where were you before Cordova?” Charlotte asked as casually as she could.

A sidelong glance accompanied an enigmatic smile. “What makes you think I was anywhere but here?”

“I've learned that few people here are actually from Alaska,” Charlotte said.

Brigit laughed. “True. I'm from Ohio originally, a tiny town west of Cleveland. Not much going for it. Moved to Virginia, then Dawson at the tail end of the gold rush there, and ended up heading west with the miners.”

Charlotte tried to watch Brigit's expression without seeming too obvious. “Nome?” Brigit nodded. “Fairbanks?” A hesitation before affirmation. Was it Brigit in the picture?

As they drew closer to the bank, the door opened, and Tess Kavanagh stepped onto the walk. She smiled at Charlotte, but when she saw Brigit the smile fell. It wasn't the startled response of nearly colliding; there was too much distance between them for that fear. But they were all close enough for Charlotte to see Mrs. Kavanagh's eyes meet Brigit's. Recognition flared in each of their expressions, as did something else. Not anger, precisely. Surprise? Wariness?

Mrs. Kavanagh quickly shifted her gaze to Charlotte. “Miss Brody, how are you today?”

“I'm well, thank you. And yourself?” Was she going to completely ignore Brigit? Charlotte glanced between the two women, wondering if it was their status that made this such an uncomfortable meeting.

“Quite well, thank you. But I'm in a bit of a hurry,” she said apologetically. “If you'll excuse me.”

Mrs. Kavanagh swept past, her hurried boot steps thumping on the walk. Charlotte and Brigit watched her depart. Brigit's face registered nothing, not anger or disappointment. While Charlotte hadn't expected the two women to greet each other with friendship, the absolute coldness of Mrs. Kavanagh's reaction seemed extreme.

“Do you know her at all?” Charlotte asked.

Brigit shook her head. She faced Charlotte, a small, tense smile curving her lips. “I'm afraid I have to get inside. Let me know if there's anything else we can do.”

Charlotte wanted to ask if Brigit had known about Darcy's delicate condition, or about the money and papers sewn into the coat, but she couldn't. Not yet. It was information and evidence that needed to be kept mum for now. “I will. Thank you.”

They headed in opposite directions, but Brigit stopped her before Charlotte got more than two steps away.

“I'm two girls down now that Marie is gone.” She gave Charlotte an appraising look, but there was amusement in her dark eyes. “Could use a pretty blonde like you.”

Charlotte grinned. She liked this woman and her wicked sense of humor. “Thanks, but Toliver already beat you to it. If that doesn't pan out, I'll let you know,” she said with a wink.

Hunching her shoulders against the rain, Charlotte hurried to James's office with Brigit's laughter echoing behind her.

 

Charlotte walked into the marshal's office just as James was leading a disheveled man toward the side door marked JAIL. Marshal Blaine sat at the deputy's desk, writing in a large ledger. A second man sat on the hard wooden chair in front of the desk, elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands.

“Have you got the fifty dollars or not, Rawlins?” Blaine asked.

“Nah,” Rawlins drawled. “Who has that kinda money all at once?”

“Not the likes of you,” Blaine said, not unkindly. “So maybe you better consider that next time you and Carter decide to fire up your still and try to sell hooch, eh?”

Rawlins nodded, and the marshal went back to writing in the book. When he was finished, he stood and smiled at Charlotte.

“Miss Brody. A pleasure to see you again. What can I do for you?” He came around the desk and grabbed the other man's arm, assisting him to his feet. Rawlins stood, wavering slightly.

“I don't mean to interrupt police business, Marshal.” Though the information she had, scant that it was, qualified. “Is the deputy available?”

Blaine narrowed his gaze, holding Rawlins still as he regarded her. “He'll be back in a minute. Why don't you have a seat here while I deal with this?”

Charlotte moved forward as Blaine escorted his charge through the same side door James had gone through earlier. She sat, removed her hat, and couldn't help glancing at the ledger. Though it was upside down, she easily read Blaine's neat block writing that filled the last line. Rawlins, John had been arrested for violating the Alaska dry law and was charged fifty dollars in fines and fees. It appeared his friend was in trouble for the same crime.

“Miss Brody.” James's voice behind her set Charlotte's heart racing. He'd caught her snooping.

“Deputy. I was wondering if you had a minute.”

He stood beside her, but glanced toward the hall to the jail. Seeing if Blaine was near? “Is this about last night?” he asked quietly.

She nodded as the marshal strutted back into the front office. He eyed the two of them with curiosity bordering on suspicion. “You need me, Eddington?”

“No, sir.”

Blaine took his hat and coat off the rack near the door. “Good. I'm going to the café.” He gave them a significant look as he shrugged into his coat. “Anything important will be passed on to me.”

It wasn't a question.

“Yes, sir,” James said with a solemn nod. The marshal left the office, and James turned back to Charlotte. “Did you talk to Brigit?”

“I did, but she refused to name anyone.” He scowled. “But,” Charlotte said, laying a hand on his arm, “Charlie said someone had him pass a note to Darcy that night.”

“Who? Why didn't he say anything when I was there?” James's anger and frustration blazed in his eyes and darkened his cheeks beneath the shade of whiskers. He was intimidating, even when the look wasn't aimed at her.

Charlotte squeezed his arm. “Maybe because you scare the hell out of him?”

His frown deepened. “Kids love me.” She couldn't help but laugh, and James smiled. “So what did you manage to get out of him, oh charmer of children?”

“Actually, Brigit was the one who got him to talk.” Charlotte lowered her hand. “He'd been outside when he wasn't supposed to be, which is why he didn't say anything before. The man gave him the note and a couple of store tokens. I guess Charlie is used to being discreet and didn't think much of it.”

“Who was it?”

“He couldn't tell,” she said. Charlotte told James everything Charlie told her and Brigit. “It was dark, and the man kept his hat pulled down. Charlie only had a vague description of his height and build.”