by Dallis Adams
“But it won’t come to that,” Jack said in a low tone.
Uncertainty clouded Uma’s features. “I can’t do much to aid in the investigation while confined in here. At least tell me what you discover and let me help sort out the facts.”
“We’ll keep our ears to the ground,” Lala said. “And we’ll let you know what we discover.”
“I’ve got this,” Jack replied, his tone roughened by a well of emotion. He vowed to himself that he would find evidence to exonerate her. “I’ll discover the real criminal. This is what I’ve been elected to do. Bring criminals to justice. And protect my wife.”
“I have a feeling finding the true culprit is going to be complicated, given all the people who had a bone to pick with him,” she muttered. Then she gave him, and the rest of them a fierce stare. “All of you had better adopt the Pinkerton motto.”
“Which is?” Lala asked.
“We never sleep.”
Eleven
The strange rain had stopped. Orchilo and Lala left shortly after Marshal Spivey had stomped back toward his room at The Infernal Inn. Uma watched mother and daughter head toward Thistle Do Nicely.
Uma was suddenly glad that Orchilo was on her side. The so-called witch would make a formidable enemy. She almost felt sorry for Marshal Spivey. Almost. But all sympathy flew out the window at the thought of him ramrodding a guilty verdict down her throat, all because she’d let her anger dictate her words.
“What are they up to?” Were they going to instruct Rosia, who ran the telegraph when needed, to stall from sending the Marshal’s telegram to the circuit judge? Although Uma appreciated the duo, their shenanigans would only delay the judge and her upcoming trial. Finding the real murderer would be to her benefit in the end. And how was she going to do that when she was locked up in this cell? A sense of helplessness washed over her. She rarely depended on anybody when she could do it herself.
“They’re probably going to break the telegraph machine, which they better not do because I need to contact the marshal’s headquarters in San Francisco,” Jack replied, grabbing his hat off the rack and walking toward the front door. “And then I have to wait for a response. I’ll be right back.”
“Where is Doc Elroy’s body?”
He hesitated at the front door. “Luther and Orlando took it to Morty’s.”
Morty’s Mortuary. “Who is going to examine it?”
“Catalina offered. I’ll assist her.”
“Has she ever examined a murdered person before?”
The look he gave her was what Uma would describe as his calm, sheriff’s demeanor. “Not that I’m aware of.”
“I suppose that makes sense for her to examine the body since she’s the only person close to being a doctor.” Even as she uttered the words, doubt clouded her.
Uma wondered if Catalina’s unusual abilities would help the herbalist find clues as to who murdered the Doc. She worried her lip. To put her trust in an herbalist, one who never examined a body before, made her shiver.
She almost asked Jack if he would bring the body to the jailhouse so she could look at it again. A feeling that she needed to study it more closely swept over her. Maybe she’d missed something. Or maybe the redness around the neck would get clearer. She was a voracious reader. A Treatise of Pathological Anatomy by William E. Horner mentioned something about bruises developing later, after the victim had been dead. Days? How many, she couldn’t remember. She wanted to see if the redness around Doc Elroy’s neck had changed. If the discoloration on the Doc’s skin showed fingers, finger imprints that weren’t made by her own fingers, then maybe that would prove her innocence.
Jack strode back toward her cell. Reaching through the bars, he grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Trust me. I’ve had some training in examining bodies. Believe it or not, I helped Doc Elroy examine a body once.”
“You did?” Uma blinked at him, surprised.
“Yes. A couple of years ago, Marco found a body when he was hunting. This was when my father was sick and I took over. After Doc and I examined the body we discovered the man died from a blow to his head. We discovered the killer was the victim’s brother, and was living with his widowed sister-in-law. She confessed to playing a part in the murder.”
“Wow. Alright,” Uma breathed, Jack’s assurances bolstering her faith in him.
Jack reached up and gently cupped her cheek. “Trust me. I will get you out of this.”
She leaned into the warmth of his palm, reveling in his touch. “Alright.”
But as she watched him leave, she couldn’t help but wonder. Would anybody know about bruising and how it developed? Would Jack? What did Jack know about solving a murder? Alright, it sounded as if he’d solved one murder. But he hadn’t solved her mother’s murder … well, to be fair, it had been his dad who hadn’t solved the murder since his dad had been Sheriff at the time. Jack had only been a child of maybe three years of age when her mother had been killed.
Cryptians believed Jack’s addled older brother, Buddy, had accidentally killed her by cutting the rope that held her swing high during her trapeze act on a dare. Buddy, who was mentally challenged, was the sweetest man that Uma had ever met. She was still surprised Jack had never questioned the assumption.
But all of Jack’s life he’d been told by adults that Buddy had done the deed. When you grow up with a given like that, she supposed it was hard to question, or to see another point of view. Being told something false for years, and growing up with that falsehood had led him into taking it as fact and not questioning the error in not only his father’s judgment, but the town’s. At least, she supposed that was the reason.
How good was his intuition? Should she sit in this cell and rely on her husband to save her? Rely on Catalina’s ability to examine the body? Madam Wigg, the woman who owned the orphanage where Uma grew up, would tell her to trust in her husband. But doing nothing went against Uma’s very nature. Against the grain.
Alright, maybe she could behave for a couple of days, and wait to see what Jack did to resolve the mystery of who killed Doc Elroy. But not any longer. She must have control of her destiny, and that entailed being her own sleuth. One way or another she would be released from this cell.
“Don’t worry. Jack will get you out of this.”
Uma turned to look at the man locked in the cell at the end. She’d seen him around town, but she didn’t really know him. He was young, maybe two or three years older than her own nineteen years of age. She supposed other women would find him handsome, with that elfin face and arrow-straight nose. But, in her opinion, he didn’t hold a candle to Jack.
“Creed Bloom,” he said in a way of introduction.
“Uma MacKissick. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, I know who you are — and I’m not talking about being the sheriff’s wife. It’s good to meet you face-to-face.”
She frowned. “What does that mean — that you know who I am, and not because I’m Jack’s wife?”
A smirk curved the corners of his mouth. He leaned against the bars and turned his head to look at her. “Are you kidding? This must be your first time to live in a small town. Let’s just say I know you’re a fiery cause woman. You always need a cause or something to fight for. Even when it comes to solving murders.” He tilted his head. “You’re an unusual woman. You are making a name for yourself. And you’re keeping Jack on his toes.” He chuckled. “You’re a force to contend with all on your own.”
Blinking as she contemplated Creed, she mulled over his comments, not sure how to take them. She decided to change the subject. “Why are you in here?”
“I punched your uncle in the mouth for calling the Blooms a bunch of lowlife, lazy thugs, and for telling me that I was forged from the same copper.”
Chuck Kincaid. Creed was talking about her uncle who wasn’t related by blood. The word fond to describe her feelings for Chuck wasn’t in her vocabulary. “Please. Don’t refer to him as my uncle. I don’t claim him.”
Creed smiled. “Smart girl.”
“Why would he say you won’t last? Haven’t you lived here for years?”
He shrugged and then started pacing as if he was suddenly antsy. “Actually only two years.”
She waited for a couple of beats and then decided to be direct. “Are your brothers thugs?”
“Some people think so, obviously.”
“Chuck doesn’t count.” Uma knew Chuck to be prejudice against many in town, especially the carnies.
Creed plopped down on his cot and sighed. “I wouldn’t refer to my brothers as thugs. Rishley is educated. Smart. So is Tye. Both earned degrees U. S. Military Academy in New York. But my brothers really are outlaws. They’ve robbed the Evenlight Express four times, and are hiding out somewhere in the Redwoods.”
“If they’re educated, why rob trains?”
“It’s a long story and has to do with their feud with Evenlight Express. Let’s just say you would get along well with them since they have a cause, too. But you probably don’t approve of their method for dealing with the problem. Still, I think you would understand where they are coming from.”
Creed was being rather cryptic. She decided to whittle the story down. “What are they educated in?”
“Mechanical engineering.”
“Why in the world would they turn into train robbers?” Uma asked, curious.
“Because Evenlight Express stole their idea for a train engine that makes trains run faster and with less fuel. My brothers haven’t been able to get justice or even to get their complaint to trial. So they’ve resorted to robbing Evenlight Express trains to get attention.”
Hmm. Not the angle she would’ve taken. But she supposed that was none of her business. “So you chose not to live the life of a train robber?”
“Right. Nope, don’t want to live like that. On the run. Always looking over my shoulder. Not for me.”
She contemplated him for a while, wondering what made him tick. And why he was in jail. “So, why would Chuck even rile you up like that?” Yes, she refused to call him uncle, even though he was her step-uncle. Of all things, he’d tried to court her because he’d wanted her inheritance. Well, she hadn’t claimed it, and she didn’t think she would. Money wasn’t all that important to her. People were.
Creed rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t know. Come to think of it, his verbal attack was weird. As if he wanted to pick a fight. And I’m mad at myself for reacting, for falling right into his antics. He’s a chump, and kicks his employees in the arse if he thinks we’re lax, although I’ve always managed to avoid the kick. But he’s never gone after my family like that. And he usually puts me in charge when he leaves town.”
“Hmm, that is strange.” The fight nagged at her. Chuck wasn’t one to encourage physical pain. He had more self-preservation than that. “When was this?”
Creed scratched his head. “Afternoon. After four o’clock.”
She didn’t know the significance of that altercation, but she decided to file away the incident to examine later. “So why do you work for Chuck if he’s a bully?”
Creed shrugged. “Because he pays decent, better than the lumber mill. I’m saving up for a business of my own.”
Uma tilted her head, interest piqued. “Oh? What kind of business?”
“A barber that also serves as a dentist.”
“Why that?”
“Because I’m good at both. I give my brothers’ haircuts when they come to visit. I’ve even pulled rotten teeth from a couple of their friends’ mouths.” He hesitated. “And I have another motive, a secret one.” He glanced around, as if assuring himself they were alone. Then he put his forefinger to his lips and made a shushing sound. “Don’t tell anybody, but I’m in love.”
That wasn’t what she expected. Creed was such a rough-and-tumble looking man. Intrigued, she cocked her head. “What does pulling teeth or cutting hair have to do with love? I don’t think your love interest is going to want you to pull her teeth.”
“Ha ha. No, her teeth are perfect. But she could give me a few pointers on how to treat infections.”
“Are you talking about Catalina?”
He puffed out his chest. “The one and only.”
Uma blinked in surprise. “Isn’t she too old for you?”
With a scowl, he stiffened and pushed away from the bars of his cell. “She might be a few years older than me, but I don’t care.” His gaze took on a faraway look. “Right after I moved to Cryptic Cove and got a job at the copper mill there was a slag explosion at the foundry. I got pelted by the hot slag. I thought I was going to die I was in such pain. But Catalina set up a bed in her living room and tended to me every day for sixteen days.” Creed sighed, a dreamy look in his eyes. “She has this way about her that calms a person. I can’t explain it right, but her touch … cooled the burns. And she murmured words in a strange yet musical language that I didn’t recognize as she applied salve that she’d made. When I asked her about it, she said her ancestry was from southern Mexico and her people were Zoques. The language she spoke was O’de Pűt. She said she knew ancient healing from her people. And whatever she did was a miracle. My scars are very slight.” He pointed to his cheek, and pulled back the collar from his throat.
A slight silvery sheen was all Uma could see. “You’re right. I can barely see any scarring.”
Uma had admired Catalina since she’d first moved to Cryptic Cove. Lala had told her that Catalina was a bruja, or witch, just like Rosia claimed. Not that Uma believed in such things. But there was something special about the way Catalina healed others.
Creed sighed. “Anyway, those weeks were the happiest times I’ve ever had. It was when I fell in love.”
Uma knew of the salve. On her first day of teaching, one of the students showed her a circus trick with fire that got out of hand. As a result, she’d been burned. Catalina’s concoction worked on her reddened, blistered skin immediately, which had surprised Uma.
“But Catalina doesn’t seem to know I exist, other than as one of her former patients.” Creed sighed. “So. I’m hoping to catch her attention by asking her to advise me on tooth problems, and hair issues. Show her how much I value her ideas. Because she really is clever. Smart. And creative. I’ll ask her advice as to how to arrange the shop, and even ask her to eventually partnership with me.” He had a dreamy look in his eyes. “Once she sees how well we work together, she’ll become intrigued with me, and finally allow me to court her. Then, I’ll pop the question.”
“What question?” That she managed to ask with a straight face without smiling impressed even herself.
“The most important question in the world, of course. The will-you-marry-me one.”
Uma opened her mouth to respond when the front door to the Sheriff’s Office opened. In walked Jack with Troy Coulson, The Vine’s chef, carrying a bed big enough for two.
“What are you doing?” Uma asked.
At the same time, Creed asked, “What’s up?”
“I’m making me and my wife as comfortable as possible during her unjust, temporary stay in jail, even if it’s only for a few nights,” Jack said.
“Temporary? This doesn’t inspire hope that you’re going to clear my name any time soon,” Uma muttered with a scowl.
“Hey,” Jack whispered, grasping her arm through the bars to bring her closer to him. “Trust me. I’ll get you out of here, one way of the other. But I won’t allow you to be uncomfortable, even for one night. Especially since I plan to spend it with you.”
His avowal melted her heart, took her words away. The only thing she could do was stare at him in wonder.
“I better get back to the restaurant,” Troy said, breaking the silence. “It opens in an hour and I still have prepping to do.”
Jack set down his end of the bed off to one side of the office, just outside of Uma’s cell, as did Troy. “That’s fine. Thanks, Troy.”
“Good luck, Uma,” Troy said. “Jack will get you
out. The Marshal is way out of line. Word is spreading, too, about your mistreatment. Cryptians will be mad as hornets come morning.”
“Over me? Naw,” Uma replied. Fidgeting, she suddenly felt uncomfortable over the idea of anybody taking up arms over her. She was the one to fight for causes. She had never been the object of somebody else’s cause.
“Oh, yeah,” Troy countered. “You. Not only are you our Sheriff’s wife, you are a very valued Cryptian, even if you hadn’t married Jack. We appreciate how well you teach the children. You’re unique in your teachings. You go beyond textbook lessons. And the children love you, which makes the lessons stick.”
She frowned and resisted the urge to shake her head. Troy was good natured and Uma didn’t want to insult his goodness by contradicting him.
Troy must have seen her doubt because he chuckled. “You’ll see.” He opened the door for Lala and Orchilo, who were carrying bundles of light-weight, silky-looking tapestries. He nodded to the women and then said, “See you later, Jack.”
“Thanks, Troy.” Jack grabbed the iron ring with the keys to the cells, minus hers. He fitted one of them in Creed’s lock and turned it. “You’re released.”
Creed widened his eyes. “I am? I thought you said I would be locked up for a week.”
Jack pressed his lips into a flat line. “The situation has changed. Since Uma is required to sleep here, I will, too. And we don’t need an audience.”
Creed chuckled. “No, I don’t think you do.”
Uma felt her cheeks grow warm.
With a nod, Jack stepped in front of Creed. “Before you go, I need your help.”
“Oh?”
“I need help moving more furniture here,” Jack said. “I want my wife as comfortable as possible. And I’m moving in with her.” He held open the door for Creed, who stepped over the threshold.
“Jack?” Uma called out. “Just one question. How are you going to get everything in my cell? You don’t have the key.”
He gave her a sly smile. “On the contrary. I have duplicate keys for each jail cell.”
