Silver Lies (15 page)

Susan thrust out a hand over the counter. "Miss Carothers. I approached you once about advertising."

"Oh, of course." He took her hand, shook it limply. "Charmed to meet you again."

She sniffed, unmollified.

Elliston faced Inez. "So, what’s the story? You said someone broke in?" He glanced about the office, doubt plain in his expression.

She pointed toward the rear of the building.

Elliston tipped back his bowler, walked through the swinging gate, and disappeared down the passageway. A long, low whistle drifted to the women, who joined Elliston.

"We cleaned up some." Susan brushed past him to crack open the rear door. Light speared the gloom, illuminating piles of trash glittering with broken glassware.

"Too bad." His condescension hung in the air. "Sometimes, you can deduce a fair amount about the perpetrators by the crime scene. When the scene is undisturbed, that is."

Susan rolled her eyes.

"Oh, I agree," Inez interjected smoothly. "Susan and I drew conclusions of our own. And we found this." She set the ledger on a cleared countertop.

Elliston’s dark eyes snapped into focus, as if he’d been only half awake before. "And that is?"

"Joe’s business records." She fanned the pages. "There’s something odd about the last month of entries."

The hunger in his face was palpable. Inez placed both elbows on the closed ledger, gazing at him almost tenderly.
Jed’s such a sucker. His face gives him away, every time.

He cleared his throat. "As I said. I would be happy to offer my assistance."

"Of course you would." Her elbows remained on the book.

He looked around as if seeking allies. Susan glowered at him, arms crossed.

Inez continued, "We could help each other. Joe’s widow asked me to settle his business affairs."

Shock warred with caution in Elliston’s face. He looked as if he was trying to think of something suitable to say. "That’s…commendable."

"Peculiar is probably what you mean. Well, peculiar has never stopped me before. In any case, I can ask the bank questions that you can’t. And Susan and I have—" she tapped the book. "So, here’s how it stands. It seems to me that your newspaper could greatly benefit from a part-time assistant."

She smiled at Susan, who, in a heartbeat, saw where she was heading. It took Elliston longer. But from his morose expression, Inez could tell he’d caught her drift at last. "Well, Jed. Do we have an agreement? The offer of free drinks still stands."

Elliston rubbed his jaw and looked sideways at Susan. Inez added, "And I’m certain you’ll find some space in your paper to advertise Carother’s Photographic Studio."

He finally bristled. "Mrs. Stannert,
The Independent
is my paper. You have no right to direct placement of adverts or articles."

"Of course, Jed. You know your business better than I," she soothed, watching his ruffled feathers settle. "You and Miss Carothers are quite capable of working it all out. And I promise to read
The Independent
, first page to last, with great interest from now on. Might even take out advertising myself." She opened the ledger and moved aside.

Elliston wavered, but the temptation was too great. He bent over the pages. "We need more light."

When Inez returned from the front counter with the lamp, Elliston and Susan were poring over entries. "‘SilvM’ must be
Silver
Mountain
, Mr. Gallagher’s company." Susan glanced at Inez for confirmation. "Wasn’t he Joe’s main customer?"

"Was is right. Until Old Harry decided to hire a company man," said Elliston.

"He did?" Inez’s mind raced over bar talk and rumors, turning up nothing. "I don’t recall hearing that."

A satisfied smile tweaked his lips. "It’s not common knowledge."

"Well, I’m intrigued. Tell us more."

Elliston turned and leaned against the counter, hands thrust into trouser pockets.

"Harry’s bringing in some chap from back East, come spring. He’s been using Kelley’s assay house for over a month now."

Inez stared at the lamp’s flame.
I wonder if Emma knew.

"Inez." Susan’s face flickered with excitement. "Look at this."

Elliston peered over Susan’s head at the pages. "The last date on this page is the fifteenth of October. From there, it jumps to…Miss Carothers, you’re standing in the light."

"The next date is November twenty-ninth," Susan said with some asperity. "And there are only a handful listed after that."

The front door opened with a crash that shook the floorboards.

"Joe, old coot. Ya in?" bellowed a familiar voice.

The three exchanged startled glances. Inez arrived in the office area first, followed closely by Elliston and Susan.

Chet Donnelly prowled by the counter, looking almost sober. His last resting place must have been quite firm, judging from the way his hat and hair were squashed flat on one side. He stared at the trio, puzzled.

"Rose in?" Chet snatched off his lopsided hat, clutching it before him in a vague remembrance of manners.

Elliston spoke first. "Don’t you read the papers? Rose’s dead."

Chet’s furry eyebrows pulled together. "Wadd’ya mean, dead?"

"Died in Tiger Alley, Saturday night."

Chet sucked in his lips under the tangled beard. He seemed to be chewing something. Maybe his mustache. Suddenly, it was as if a cloud hanging in his mind blew away, revealing something he didn’t want to see.

"Damn." He passed one shaky hand over his eyes. "Sorry, ladies. I’m tryin’ to remember." Inez spoke up. "You don’t remember? That was only four days ago."

He hawked and spat. "I recollect wakin’ up this morning on the floor of the Red Garter with my head half out the door. Felt like I’d been stepped on a few times."

"That’s all?"

He looked slantways at her, still chewing.

"Well, allow me to refresh your memory. Saturday night, you and the twins, Zed and Zeke, started a fight at my saloon. Last night, you rolled in, paid for a new mirror, and bought a round for the house. Paid for everything with fifty dollar notes."

He looked as if she’d slapped him with a rotten fish. "I did?" His hands plunged into his pockets, searching for leftover change. "Ya sure that was me?"

"Of course it was you." Inez was exasperated. A small notebook and pencil magically appeared in Ellis-ton’s hands. "Were you a client of Rose’s?" Chet stopped chewing, and his features rearranged themselves along crafty lines. "You a newspaper man?"

"Owner, editor, and chief reporter of
The Independent
. Say, Chet, what’s your last name? And when did you last talk to Rose?"

Chet glowered, looking like a demented Saint Nicholas. "Never you mind." He lowered his head and barreled through the counter gate. "Rose has somethin’ of mine out back. I’ll get it and be on my way. S’cuse me." He lumbered toward the laboratory.

Inez followed. "Perhaps you’d best tell me what you’re looking for," she said as he stared about the chaos.

Chet jammed his greasy hat back on his head. "Assay samples. Left ’em last week."

"You mean rocks in bags?" Susan managed to push past Elliston, who blocked the hall. "We’ve found nothing like that."

"Damnation." He hooked his thumbs in the rope that served as a belt and attempted to hitch up his pants over his sizeable gut. Gravity won, and the pants sagged back down below his belly. "He said he’d take care of them. Lady Luck was comin’ through at last."

Something clicked for Inez, and a couple of small, musical notes fell into place. "Last night, you mentioned Lady Luck."

Chet peered around as if he expected his sample bags magically to appear. "Hell, she’s the saint we pray to, every time we stick a shovel in the ground."

He eased out the back door. Then glared back through slitted eyes. "If you find bags with my name or initials, it’s my property."

He lurched off.

"C.D.," said Inez softly. "Did C.D. appear in the last entries?"

Susan frowned. "No. Why?"

"Chet’s initials. If he left something here last week, why isn’t it in the ledger?"

999

"We’ve a deal, then. You supply the paint, I’ll supply the faces." Inez handed Llewellyn a signed copy of their agreement.

"Done." Llewellyn touched the inked signatures with a finger. Satisfied they were dry, he rolled up and pocketed the agreement. As they left the second-floor saloon office, he added, "Now that that’s settled, I’d like to prepare the surface. When’s the best time for me to work?"

"Mornings, before we open. Someone’s always here by eight."

"I’ll time my arrivals for eight, then." He rubbed his hands together, smiling in a self-satisfied manner.

Inez couldn’t help but smile back. At least this part of the morning’s efforts had concluded satisfactorily. Llewellyn had promised to have the mural completed by February. And he hadn’t even haggled over the price.
That’s an artist for you. No sense for the bottom line.
The mural would cost far less than a new mirror, and there’d be nothing else like it in town.

Joe’s ledger still troubled her, however. The missing page had whetted Elliston’s appetite. He’d promised to look at the records and ask around. Still, Inez felt uneasy about letting the ledger leave her control.
After all, one page is gone. What if more turn up missing?
She wished she’d asked Susan to count the written pages. Just as insurance.

999

"And what can I do for one of Carbonate City Bank’s best customers?" The round tones in Nigel Hollingsworth’s voice betrayed him as a native of
England
’s shores. He steepled his fingers and beamed at Inez.

"Two things, Mr. Hollingsworth." Inez turned slightly in her chair by the assistant bank manager’s desk and crooked a finger at Useless. "First, a deposit. A large one."