by Nerys Leigh
She did, however, want to be useful. “But he could get suspicious if you’re following him around all the time. I can help.”
His usual half smile returned. “He won’t know I’m following him. I am fairly good at my job, you know.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Just keep on doing what you’re doing.”
Irritation replaced the heart fluttering. “But all I’m doing is wearing skimpy costumes and trying to remember dance steps!”
His half a smile grew. “And you do both of those things incredibly well.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not above slapping you. As I’ve already mentioned, I can do that well too.”
He chuckled. “I don’t doubt it. Look, you’re here to learn about being an agent and solving cases and I’m teaching you all I know. Do you feel like I’m not doing a good enough job?”
She shook her head. Despite not having a great deal to do with the case, she was learning a lot. “No, but I feel useless.”
He placed his hand on her arm. “You’re not useless. You’re smart and brave and everything a good Pinkerton agent needs to be. I don’t expect you to solve your very first case. There’s time for that when you’re out on your own.”
It was everything she could do to not lean into his touch. She swallowed and lowered her gaze. “I know.”
Except she didn’t want to be out on her own. She wanted to stay with Val, even when she no longer needed him to teach her.
His hand left her arm, to her disappointment. “Let’s get cleaned up and we’ll start on a new lesson before supper.”
She forced herself to smile. “What is it today?”
“How to follow someone without them knowing you’re following them.”
Her smile became the real thing. “Now that sounds like fun.”
Chapter Eleven
Belle found the perfect opportunity to use her newly acquired stalking skills the next day.
Despite Val’s insistence that she keep away from Mr. Curtis, she still watched out for him, taking note of everything she saw him doing. She reasoned that anything, no matter how mundane, might hold a clue as to his criminal activities. So when she spotted him backstage carrying a lamp and glancing around, she hid behind a wooden palm tree and watched to see what he would do.
She looked around for Val since, true to his word, he’d been lurking around Curtis each time she saw him. But this time he was strangely absent. Deciding it was up to her to find out why Curtis was behaving suspiciously, she followed him into the corridor that led to the back of the building, keeping to the shadows and using whatever cover was available, like Val had taught her.
She’d expected him to go to the back door to meet John again, or perhaps Villiers, but instead he entered a door some way along the corridor. She waited ten seconds before creeping after him.
Fading yellow paint on the door identified it as the entrance to the basement. Hoping the hinges were kept well oiled, she carefully pulled it open. Inside, a short hall ended in a stairway descending into darkness. Belle glanced behind her nervously, hoping somehow that Val would be there and she wouldn’t have to go down alone, but the corridor was empty.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wouldn’t always be there and, painful as that thought was, she couldn’t let fear stop her. She could do this. She wasn’t helpless.
Squaring her shoulders, she pulled the door to behind her and crept down the stairs into the gloom.
There was barely any light in the rambling basement of the huge building. A few shallow, grimy windows high up on the walls, ground level outside, allowed in a tiny amount of illumination, but for the most part everything was in shadow. She followed a faint light from Curtis’ lamp, weaving her way through a plethora of dusty theatre props, beer barrels, stuffed animals, and ancient furniture.
She could hear him moving around somewhere ahead, but in the maze of discarded objects she couldn’t yet see him. She counted that a blessing, since he wouldn’t be able to see her either, although she did need to find out what he was doing.
She’d have thought he had simply come down to fetch something someone needed in the theatre, but his clandestine behavior convinced her he was up to something. And there was only one possibility she could think of – the safe from the depot robbery was here, in the basement.
She tiptoed closer, holding her skirts in so as not to disturb anything. Unfortunately, that didn’t help when her foot hit some small item in the dark, sending it skidding noisily across the stone floor.
Curtis’ movements stopped.
Belle froze, holding her breath.
The low light from the lamp shifted as he lifted it high. “Who’s there?”
She pressed her lips together, silently willing him to assume the noise had been nothing more than a rat.
Footsteps moved in her direction. “Is anyone there?”
The darkness hiding her dwindled as he approached with the lamp. She didn’t dare move for fear of making more noise, but any closer and he’d see her.
And then something large and many-legged skittered across her foot and onto her ankle.
She squeaked and leapt back, right into a pile of chairs. It clattered to the floor, taking her with it.
A curse sounded close by and the lamp shut off. Running footsteps retreated to the stairs and changed to the thud of boots on wood. Finally, a door opened and slammed shut in the distance, and she was alone.
She scrambled to her feet, frantically batting at her dress to dislodge any living thing she might have picked up on the floor. Despite what she’d told Val and Mr. Gordon back in the Denver Pinkerton office, she hated spiders.
She winced at a pain in her elbow and found her sleeve ripped, probably from the rough floor when she fell.
“Good job, Isabelle,” she muttered, starting towards the stairs. “Just perfect.”
~ ~ ~
“Have you seen Curtis?”
The young woman — Val was fairly sure her name was Violet — smiled up at him. “No, thank goodness. Hey, I…”
“Thanks.” He hurried off, not interested in whatever else she was about to say.
Curtis hadn’t been out of his sight for the entire morning and Val had left him scrubbing at a stain on the stage floor, sure he’d be there when he returned from answering a very insistent call of nature. But he wasn’t, and now Val couldn’t find him anywhere.
Maybe he should have let Belle watch him for some of the time, like she’d wanted. She’d never let Val live it down if she found out he’d lost Curtis. Although the thought of her berating him, graceful hands waving and blue eyes flashing, wasn’t altogether unpleasant. She was beautiful when she was angry. She was beautiful whatever she did.
But he didn’t want to look incompetent, especially not in front of her, so he needed to find Curtis soon.
An idea came to him. Maybe he’d gone to meet John again at the back door. Maybe the Villiers person had arrived like he’d said in the telegram.
Val took off for the back of the building.
He passed the stage and hurried into the hallway that led to the network of rooms beyond, now worried he’d be too late.
The door to the basement burst open ahead of him. Val immediately ducked behind a brightly colored wooden box standing against the wall.
Curtis ran into the corridor and pulled the door shut behind him, breathing heavily. He took off along the hallway back towards the stage, passing Val without seeing him.
Val was about to go after him when the basement door opened again and Belle stepped out. She pushed a stray lock of hair back from her face, leaving a streak of dirt on her cheek, and looked around. Her dress was covered in dust and one sleeve was torn.
Val’s gut plunged to his feet. He leapt from his hiding place, rushed up to her, and grabbed her arms. “What happened? Did he hurt you? I swear, if he touched you I’ll kill him.”
She blinked up at him. “What? No, I fell and
…”
He whirled away to go after Curtis, determined to pound his fist into his face over and over. He only stopped because Belle grabbed his arm and prevented him from running after the lowlife.
“He didn’t attack me, I promise.”
He looked back at her. “What were you doing with him?”
She pointed at the still open door. “I saw him go down there and you weren’t here so I followed him.”
Shame flooded him. He’d put her in danger so he could relieve himself. “I was only away from him for a minute. If I’d known…”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m trying to tell you, he went down to the basement. I think the safe is down there. I would have seen where, but it’s dark and my foot hit something and then something ran up my leg and that’s when I fell. He heard me, got spooked, and ran out. I don’t think he even knew it was me, it was so dark. He had a lamp, but it was turned down low.”
Val stared at her silently for a few moments, torn between going after Curtis, berating himself, and relief she was all right.
And then he did something even he didn’t expect.
Pulling her hard against him, he wrapped his arms around her and whispered into her hair, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
She stiffened for a moment and then softened, resting her head against the front of his shoulder and sliding her arms around his waist. His heart leapt, thudding inside his chest so hard he felt sure she must hear it.
“I’m all right,” she murmured against his shirt. “I wasn’t really in any danger.”
He blew out a heavy breath. He had to let go. If he didn’t let go, he’d hold onto her for the rest of his life.
It took every drop of willpower he possessed to release her and step back. “Show me where you think the safe could be.”
They took one of the lamps that hung at intervals along the windowless corridor and headed back to the basement.
As he followed Belle down the stairs, something she’d said came back to him. “You said something ran up your leg and startled you.”
There was a pause. “Yes.”
“What was it?”
Another pause. “I don’t know. It was dark.”
A smile slid onto his face. “Was it a spider?”
A third pause. “I’d prefer to not answer that.”
“I seem to recall you mentioning you weren’t afraid of spiders.”
She reached the base of the steps and looked back at him. “Has anyone ever told you how ungentlemanly you can be?”
“Maybe. Once or twice.”
She turned away. “Thought so.”
They searched the basement thoroughly, poking their way through the mounds of old theatre props, empty beer barrels, and moth-eaten rejects from the museum, their glass eyes flickering in the light from the lamp making Val feel embarrassingly unsettled. But despite coming across just about everything else, the one thing they failed to find was any safes.
After more than an hour of rummaging through the dust and cobwebs, he was forced to admit defeat. “It’s not here.”
Belle planted her hands on her hips. “It has to be. I know it is.” She blew a dusty strand of hair from her eyes. “It’s here. Why else would he have got so scared when he thought someone was down here with him? Why would he have run if he was just here doing his job?”
He had no answer to that. “I agree with you, but I don’t know where else to look.”
She glanced around her, as if the safe would magically appear. He hated to disappoint her when she had been so happy about finding a break in the case, but he didn’t know what else to do.
“Come on, let’s go back to the hotel and wash up. We can think about what we’re going to do next when we’re clean and have had something to eat.”
Her shoulders drooping, she heaved a sigh that made him feel like the worst man on earth. “All right.”
~ ~ ~
Belle was pleased to find that their hotel provided warm baths, for a charge. She was more than willing to pay.
She eased into the deliciously hot water with a sigh of relief. The water easing her body couldn’t, however, ease her mind.
She was going to fail her training. Every day Val taught her more about being an agent and she’d absorbed it all eagerly, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that, in this particular case, she was largely useless.
She wanted so badly to make a real contribution to the investigation, something that Val couldn’t have accomplished alone, but so far all she’d managed to do was get him to search the basement for nothing. How was she going to become a Pinkerton agent like this? How was she going to make Val proud of her?
Sighing again, she gingerly rubbed her bruised elbow. She’d been sure Curtis was in that basement because of the safe. His suspicious behavior screamed it. And yet there was no safe down there.
Well, if she couldn’t work out where the safe was hidden, maybe she could work out why. Closing her eyes, she again went through every detail she remembered about the train depot robbery in her mind.
And as she did, an idea began to form.
~ ~ ~
Once out of the bath and dressed, Belle returned to her room, found the story of the robbery in the very first newspaper Val had brought to her, and read it through carefully. Then she read it again, the idea she’d had in the bath solidifying.
With it clear in her mind, she went to the door separating their rooms and knocked.
“Door’s open,” he called.
She entered to find him stretched out on his back on the bed with a book balanced on his chest, feet bare and shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. Somehow, the sight managed to be both soothing and stimulating at once.
“How was the…” He came to a sudden halt, staring up at her.
She raised a hand to her face. Had she missed some soap? “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. You, uh, your hair. It’s so…” He motioned around his own head.
She hadn’t taken the time to pin it up, eager as she was to tell him her idea, and the still damp tresses curled over her shoulders and down her back.
She prodded at it self-consciously. “I know, it’s a mess.”
“No, it’s… incredible.”
He gazed at her hair as if mesmerized, his eyes slowly tracing its length until she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
He blinked and shook his head slightly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to stare. It’s just, your hair is so…” He cleared his throat, dropping his gaze. “It’s a nice color. Did you want to talk to me about something?”
Did she? Oh, yes. “Do you have a map of Cheyenne?”
“I sure do.” Closing the book, he sat up, swiveled his feet off the bed, and opened a drawer in the chest beside him.
She took the folded map he handed her, sat on the end of the bed, and smoothed it out between them.
Locating the train depot where the robbery had taken place, she pointed to it. “Mr. Curtis and his accomplice stole the safe from here, and here’s Horton’s.” She traced her finger to where the theatre sat on the same side of the town. “I have a theory. They had to hire Villiers to open the safe, so either they thought they’d be able to open it themselves and then couldn’t, or they didn’t want to run the risk of hiring him and then something suddenly going wrong with the robbery and having to pay him for nothing. So they had a problem – what were they going to do with the safe while they wait for him to arrive? They couldn’t take it through the town because people would see them, even at night. And one of those people might have been sober enough to remember two men with a safe and tell the sheriff. They also couldn’t risk leaving it somewhere out in the country because someone might find it.
“But Horton’s is fairly close to the train depot.” She pointed again. “There’s a fairly clear route from there, through a couple of small streets, to the theatre. Much easier to get to without being seen. My theory is they got the safe to the theatre and hid it there to
keep it from being discovered before Villiers, the safe-cracker, gets here. But for some reason, the show opening will disrupt their plans, although I don’t know why. So they’ve been trying to stop it. They can’t move the safe now for the same reason they couldn’t do anything else with it before – they’d be seen.” She sat back. “What do you think?”
She nervously watched Val as he studied the map. She’d thought it a good theory, up until now. With it under scrutiny by a man who knew far more about solving crimes than she did, she wasn’t so sure.
Finally, he looked up from the map and smiled. “That all makes sense. It’s a good theory.”
She breathed out.
“But,” he continued, “we didn’t find the safe, and I’ve spent hours in the time we’ve been there searching the entire building from top to bottom. There’s just no safe.”
“But there has to be.” She still wasn’t ready to let go of the theory that the safe was somewhere at Horton’s.
She rubbed at her aching elbow absently. His eyes followed the movement and he reached out to take her arm, gently pushing up her sleeve.
He frowned at the bruised graze she’d got when she fell. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s not bad. It’ll heal.”
“I should have been there to protect you.” Releasing a heavy breath, he pulled her sleeve back down. “I think it’s time I taught you how to defend yourself.”
“One, I fell over. What were you going to protect me from, my own clumsiness? And two, you forget where I grew up. I know how to defend myself.”
One side of his mouth curved up. “Oh you do, do you?” He stood and beckoned her to him with both hands. “Come on then, try and hit me.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to hit you.”
“I said try to hit me. I didn’t say you’d succeed.” He shuffled back, bouncing from foot to foot like a boxer. “Show me how tough you are, little girl.”
He was trying to goad her, she knew. And she wasn’t falling for it. “I have nothing to prove.”
