“We are visiting Mr. and Mrs. Hobbs, then,” Sheriff amended.
“Yes, but first we have to visit Mr. Rose, remember?”
“All right, lead the way.”
Mr. Rose wasn't surprised to see her or the Sheriff in his home, and he was very helpful in giving Geraldine advice, suggestions on what to choose for her Auntie. The whole experience felt surreal to Geraldine. She didn't want to be there, choosing a casket for Elsa. That was what she did, nevertheless.
Geraldine was grateful she had the Sheriff at her side along the way since he made the whole experience more bearable. Don't get attached, Geraldine, she warned herself. A part of her thought how that ship already sailed.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Rose,” Geraldine offered when all that ghastly business was over.
“Of course.”
“Off to the Hobbs,” the Sheriff announced once they left Mr. Rose's home.
They chatted for a bit while they walked, since the Hobbs lived in Oatman. Geraldine knew he was doing that to cheer her up, and she was very grateful. “Mr. Nathan Hobbs is a retired officer,” Geraldine provided. “He was shot during the war.”
They found the Hobbs in front of their house, arguing. Mrs. Hobbs wasn't pleased by the way Mr. Hobbs was painting their house with the fresh coat of yellow paint. That must have been the brightest shade of yellow Geraldine ever saw in her life, she practically had to look away.
“Mind the roses, Nathan,” Mrs. Hobbs nagged. “They are not in the way, Betty.” They stopped once they spotted Geraldine and her companion.
“Good day,” they greeted one another, and Geraldine made the introductions. “We heard that there is a sheriff in town, just didn't think we would have the pleasure to meet him,” Mrs. Hobbs said all sweetly. Her demeanor completely changed.
“What can we do for you, Sheriff?” Nathan Hobbs inquired without preamble, wiping his hands with an already stained old shirt.
“I am sorry to bother you, I would like to speak with you about Elsa Potter,” Sheriff replied in the same manner. “I presume you heard what happened to her.”
Nathan Hobbs looked a bit uncomfortable, Geraldine noticed. He recovered quickly while Mrs. Hobbs recoiled. “Why would you wish to speak with us? We did not have anything to do with her murder, tell him, Nathan.” She did not wait for her husband to speak and continued. “We barely knew the woman, she preferred to stay away, and honestly, we preferred that as well.”
Geraldine gritted her teeth, it was really hard for her to remain quiet or calm when someone spoke ill about Elsa. Geraldine knew about her reputation in Oatman, she was the owner of the saloon, after all, the Ranchwoman's Dancehall. Geraldine never minded that. To her, Aunt Elsa was just that, her sweet aunt and she loved her dearly despite what she did in her youth.
“Madame,” Sheriff Bradway started to reply. “I understand what you are saying, unfortunately, I have to speak with everybody that was in contact with Miss Elsa Potter.” It was clear Mrs. Hobbs wanted to object. The Sheriff was quicker. “And your husband bought a few horses from her.”
“That wasn't that recent,” Mr. Hobbs decided to speak up.
“I still wish to speak with you,” the Sheriff insisted. “Maybe even see the documentation you have of the purchases.”
Nathan Hobbs frowned then allowed a short nod. “Please, if you would follow me inside the house.”
“Certainly.”
“Mind the railings, they are wet,” Mr. Hobbs cautioned.
Geraldine stayed outside with Mrs. Hobbs. Now what? She wondered how to make her talk about Elsa when she clearly disliked her.
“Such an inconvenience,” Mrs. Hobbs complained, more to herself. Then she focused on Geraldine. “What brings you here, Geraldine?” She wanted to know, scrutinizing her from head to toe. Geraldine wondered when that would come up.
“I was merely showing Sheriff the way.” Technically that wasn't a lie.
“How very kind of you.”
“He is staying at our farm for the time being,” Geraldine blurted out.
“I see.” Mrs. Hobbs neared her. “So, you must know,” she practically whispered, rather conspiratorially.
“Know what?” Geraldine asked, confused all of a sudden. What did this woman want from her?
“Does he have a sweetheart? Is he still unwed? Where does he live in Fort Mohave? Does he have his own house? What is his salary? What about his parents, are they well suited, in the same line of business as he is?” Geraldine got attacked by so many questions at the same time, her head started to spin.
This was really not going in the direction she needed it to go. She was supposed to be the one asking all the questions. “Well?” Mrs. Hobbs urged. “Speak up, child,” she snapped.
“I do not know.”
Mrs. Hobbs pursed her lips together, clearly highly displeased with Geraldine's response or lack of it. Geraldine understood why that was the case. Betty Hobbs had two children, twins, a son and a daughter.
The son, Branden was already married and had two children of his own. Mary, the daughter, was the thorn in her mother's side. Mary was the unluckiest girl in Oatman. Geraldine wasn't joking, her nickname was “Star-Crossed Mary” since she was already engaged twice and still remained unwed.
The first fiancé of hers tragically died, was trumped to death by a herd of wild horses. No one discovered to this day what he was doing in that territory in the first place. And the second one ran away to New York City to become an actor. It was quite a scandal.
So, Mrs. Hobbs was a bit desperate to take care of her daughter and marry her off to whoever was eligible and available as soon as possible. Her biggest fear was that Mary would remain an old maid. Apparently, the Sheriff fit that bill perfectly.
Speaking of the Sheriff, Geraldine hoped he had better luck with Mr. Hobbs than she had with Mrs. Hobbs.
Chapter Seventeen
Robert patiently waited while Mr. Hobbs looked for the documents. His office was pristine, just as one would expect from a military officer. Of course, seeing the papers about purchases was just an excuse Robert used so he could speak to him alone, guessing by her attitude, Mrs. Hobbs would be too suspicious in any other way.
“I apologize, Sheriff,” Mr. Hobbs said, with his back turned on Robert while looking for the deeds. “Betty likes to clean this up, and then I cannot find anything.”
“Take your time.”
Mr. Hobbs straightened himself to look on the upper shelves that stood behind his desk. “I still fail to understand why this is of any importance to you. I was under impression that Elsa was murdered.”
Robert did not fail to notice Nathan casual use of her God-given name. He did not need more proof that, once upon a time, he was close to her.
But is he my killer as well? “She was, you heard it correctly.”
Mr. Hobbs turned toward him, abandoning his search for a bit. “Then why?” He insisted. And then it dawned on him. “Do you believe I had something to do with it? I did not kill Elsa. I could never kill her, I lo—” He stopped himself in time. Robert knew what he was about to say, nevertheless. And looking at him, straight in the eyes, Robert was inclined to believe him.
Robert moved forward and sat in the chair opposed to the desk. “You loved her,” he finished the sentence instead of Mr. Hobbs.
Mr. Hobbs looked like he was about to protest, as any gentleman should in this situation. Robert raised his hand in hopes to stop him from speaking. It did, so Robert continued. “Please Mr. Hobbs, let me be blunt with you.” Mr. Hobbs followed Robert's suit and sat down.
Robert started to explain. “As I was searching Miss Potter's home for any evidence regarding her murder, I stumbled upon a certain collection of letters.” “I see.”
Robert did not have to say anything other than that for Mr. Hobbs' whole demeanor to change. He practically slumped in his chair, as if suddenly not only feeling exhausted but ancient as grief was completely etched on his face. He covered his face with both hi
s hands. “I cannot believe she kept them,” he murmured softly to himself.
Even though it wasn't a question, Robert answered him. “She did, and it was apparent they were quite dear to her.”
Mr. Hobbs raised his head to look at him. “Sheriff, you must understand. I love my wife,” he insisted.
“I never suggested differently.” Although they must have different definitions of love, since Robert would never be unfaithful to his wife and not only because it was illegal. He believed that marriage was a sacred bond between two people, and he would never consider anything that could harm it.
“Elsa was... I do not know how to explain that. From the moment she moved to Oatman, I was bewitched. She was a true force of nature.” Mr. Hobbs' eyes sparkled while he spoke about her. “I never in my life met a woman like that before. I would do anything for her, unfortunately, I was already married,” Mr. Hobbs concluded with a sigh.
And apparently that did not stop you from pursuing her, and she let you, Robert mused, and he was right. “It took me a great deal of time to earn her trust... We were never meant to be. Please, Sheriff, believe me when I say this, I did not kill her. I loved Elsa dearly.”
As far as Robert was concerned, that proved nothing. People did all kinds of things, good and bad alike, in the name of love. Especially bad.
“Where were you at the time of her demise, then?” Robert inquired. “It was around noon, two days ago.”
Mr. Hobbs did not have to think long to provide an answer. “I was at my son Branden's house. We were mending the roof. I was there all day, Betty as well, you can ask them. And their neighbors.”
Robert certainly would. “I can't believe this happened to her,” Mr. Hobbs clearly spoke his thought out loud. “We lost touch, of course, this is a small town. She struggled with her health a lot.”
And no one apart from the Laurels was there for her. So much for your so-called love, Robert thought to himself, refraining from commenting.
Robert asked a few more questions and after a couple of minutes more, it became apparent to him that he learned all that he could. “If you remember anything that you deem vital or important to this case, please contact me immediately,” Robert said.
“Of course,” Mr. Hobbs replied instantly.
“I will take my leave now. Thank you for your time.” He stood up and his host followed his lead.
“Please, Sheriff, find the person that did this to Elsa. Our encounter was brief, regardless, I was very fond of her, until the end. She didn't deserve this.”
Robert agreed. No one deserves to die in such a manner. “No one does.” That is why there are people like me in this world to find all those wicked, evil men and put them behind bars, for good.
The two men returned to the garden, and Robert couldn't help not to notice an uncomfortable silence that followed their appearance. Geraldine looked somewhat relieved, or maybe it was just his imagination.
Apparently, Robert and Mr. Hobbs interrupted a serious conversation between the two ladies. Interesting. Robert hoped Geraldine discovered something of importance from Mrs. Hobbs since his own interview with Mr. Hobbs was adequate at best.
Unfortunately, his cheer was premature.
* * *
Reluctantly, Geraldine shared her brief conversation with Mrs. Hobbs with Robert as he followed her back to her cart. The whole experience left Geraldine feeling a bit spent. This was not what she expected at all. She fantasized about conducting an interview where Mrs. Hobbs would be at her mercy, sweating and stammering under her glacial glare. Fantasy and reality were two different things, as it turned out.
In reality, she didn't even get a chance to ask any of her questions, because Mrs. Hobbs wouldn't leave her alone, demanding to know everything that was related to Sheriff Bradway.
She glared at him. “You can stop laughing now,” Geraldine said a bit annoyed. It wasn't that he was laughing at her that bothered her, it was the failure itself that bugged her to no end.“I am trying,” the Sheriff managed to say between the cackles. “Sadly, it appears I cannot.” She wanted to hit him and dump a whole new basket of eggs on his head.
At first, Geraldine thought he would be cross at her for learning nothing or maybe even slightly embarrassed the whole conversation between the two women revolved around him. Nothing could be further from the truth because here he was, laughing out loud as if that was the best joke he heard in a long time.
It was a bit funny in a way, she allowed if only to herself.“I am sorry I did not learn anything useful to the case,” Geraldine admitted with a heavy heart. She so much wanted to contribute, help solve Aunt Elsa's case, yet here she was, failing miserably. Of course, she was cross at herself, and Sheriff Bradway laughing at her didn't help one bit.
You were a fool for thinking you could make a difference, she snapped at herself. Her words instantly sobered up Sheriff Bradway, and he stopped walking, forcing her to do the same.
“It was a classic beginner's mistake,” he explained, and for a brief moment, she doubted he was saying that simply to make her feel better until he continued speaking. “You have to assert yourself and lead the conversation in the direction you deem fit.”
“How am I to achieve that? How do you do it?”
“Well, it doesn't hurt I am almost always the biggest man in the room with a gun, as for you,” he paused, thinking about his next words. “I suggest you always have a big man with a gun alongside you,” he teased, and she glared at him. “That was no help at all.”
The Sheriff chuckled. “I know, I apologize. Look, simply be confident and know what you want. You'll do better next time.”
That lifted her spirit immensely. Next time? There will be a next time? Even her inner voice sounded cheerful all of a sudden. “Truly?”
“Oh, yes,” he replied nonchalantly as if that was of no importance. Maybe it wasn’t to him, to Geraldine, being allowed to be a part of this investigation meant the world to her “So, where to next, my young protégé,” Sheriff Bradway joked.
Geraldine made a face. It was getting late, she needed to return to the farm. She had millions of things to do today, and she lost a great deal of time playing detective with him. Not that she considered that part a waste of time.
“I must return to the farm now, I have chores and mother stayed alone for far too long,” she informed him, apologetically.
“Oh, all right, of course. Thank you for your help today.”
“The next on your list are Mr. and Mr. Kline, and if you chose to go now without me, they live on the other side of the ranch that's the furthest from town. You cannot miss them if you follow that small road over there,” Geraldine pointed, and he followed with a nod. “Mrs. Kline has the prettiest garden in town,” she added as an afterthought. Geraldine was astounded she managed something like that, considering her present state.
“Noted. And the Johnsons?” He asked instead of answering her as if he was resuming without her. That would sadden her. At the same time, she would understand it completely.
Geraldine couldn't prevent herself from making a face every time she heard that last name much like tasting something disgusting and trying to remove it from her mouth. Susannah and her father haven't made her life easier so far and that was plain to see on her face. She tried her best to smooth her features out before answering.
“They live outside of Oatman, as well, about a mile and half off the main road. You cannot miss it; it's the largest mansion in the tristate,” she was sure of that as it was painted completely in white and in a style not frequently seen in the west. It was rumored that Fergus Johnson hired a rather famous architect to build that house for his wife as a wedding present.
Geraldine wasn't bitter they had money. She was bitter about what that money did to her family. Geraldine knew deep down inside of her that it wasn't the cause of all her problems, after all, it was her own father that borrowed the money in the first place for reasons unknown. For all she knew, her father would have disappear
ed regardless of said money. Nevertheless, it certainly played a large part in her grievances, and the way Mr. Johnson treated her was appalling, as well.
Of course, Sheriff Bradway saw right through her. “I sense there's history between them and you.” By then they reached their destination, and Geraldine started petting Whitey in greetings. “If it's too personal, you do not have to answer me,” the Sheriff added.
Geraldine shook her head. “It is quite all right,” for some reason she wanted to tell him everything. “Remember me mentioning how my father borrowed money right before he disappeared?”
“Yes, vaguely,” he replied with a smirk, clearly teasing her since her reaction back then was anything but calm. She practically snapped at the priest since he was trying to defend her father.
The Sheriff's Rebellious Bride (Historical Western Romance) Page 17
