Finding this all very interesting, Patsy added, “And destroying all the old bills.”
Lane nodded. “Yes, but they’d failed to destroy the old bills before printing the new ones. Banks had been required to destroy the old bills as they received them, but that wasn’t happening. Ultimately, Federal agents were sent out to collect the old bills, deliver them to central locations and oversee their destruction.”
“Somehow Rex Gaynor, or Billy Phillips, found out that an agent was on that train, with a shipment of money for destruction,” Henry said. “And robbed the train.”
While absorbing everything, she asked, “Was the agent killed?”
Henry glanced at Lane. “No one in the passenger car survived.”
Her stomach clenched as Lane nodded. Thinking again about his wife and daughter, how tragic that had to have been for him, she quietly acknowledged, “How terrible.” There was pain in his eyes, even after all this time. That could be why he hadn’t told her. It still hurt him too much to talk about it. That made her want to help capture whoever was responsible even more. She stood up and wrapped a hand around his arm. “Who was the man who blew up the train and killed Billy Phillips?”
“The authorities thought Gaynor was lying. That he’d killed Phillips and taken all the money,” Lane said.
“Up until Gaynor was killed,” Henry said. “I wouldn’t tell this to just anyone, but the case was opened back up when Gaynor was killed. Because I’d been on the case years ago, I was assigned to it again. I’d just finished up a case in Arizona, so wasn’t far away, and while reviewing the old file, I found an interesting piece of information that another agent had collected, but no one had followed up on.”
“What is that?” Lane asked.
“A ticket agent in San Diego who had provided a roster of the passengers, and assisted with identifying the bodies, stated back then that one passenger on his roster hadn’t been accounted for. The ticket agent said he’d sold the man a ticket, and that he’d been a big guy, with black hair and a black mustache.”
Patsy’s heart skipped a beat and she tightened her hold on Lane’s arm. “Vincent Burrows.”
“Possibly,” Henry said.
“That description could fit a lot of men,” Lane said. “Burrows is new around here. The only connection I could find on him was to the abandoned house we followed you from.”
Henry nodded. “His uncle is who built that house, right after moving out here from New Jersey. The family had a bootlegging business in Jersey and the uncle was sent out here to start a new branch. The house was to be the headquarters, but agents were one up on him and the bust happened before things got too big. The house has quite an ingenious design, which is why the government had federal agents board it up, and still owns it.”
Not following what he meant, Patsy asked, “What’s ingenious about the design?”
“The tunnel,” Henry answered.
“What tunnel?” she asked, looking at Lane.
Lane was frowning, too.
Henry looked a bit skeptical. “You didn’t know about the tunnel?”
“No,” Lane answered.
“I figured you did for sure.” Henry shrugged. “Seems like that is one secret that never got out. The house has a tunnel that goes from the basement to downtown, to the laundromat. That had been their distribution center.”
“The Rooster’s Nest,” Patsy said.
“It was known as the Closet back then,” Lane said. “Until new owners bought the laundromat and reopened the speakeasy, as well.”
She was learning so much, and it was so thrilling to be in on so many secrets. “That’s where you saw me dancing with Vincent Burrows.”
“Yes, it was.” Henry rubbed his chin. “You didn’t know him before then?”
“No. I’d asked some dockworkers what the news on the dock was, and one pointed at Vincent Burrows and told me to ask him. The dockworker didn’t say his name, just said that guy knew everything going on at the docks. So I asked him to dance, and because I was interested in learning more about Rex Gaynor, I mentioned that the chin music was that people should stay home and keep their doors locked. He said that I shouldn’t worry. That Rex Gaynor had broken out in order to recover the stash of cash he’d stolen from the train.”
“He said that?” Henry asked.
“Yes, that’s exactly what he said.” Still hoping they’d let her help, she added, “I’m sure he’d tell me more.”
Henry shook his head, but asked, “He was at a party last night? Where?”
“Victoria Lloyd’s house,” Patsy said. “But I didn’t talk to him.”
“And you aren’t going to talk to him again,” Lane said. Looking at Henry, he continued, “Burrows wasn’t here seven years ago.”
Henry nodded. “Yes, he was. For a short time, with his uncle, but, coincidentally, Burrows went back to New Jersey right after the train robbery. Where he worked in the family bootlegging business, until he was ousted earlier this year.”
“If he’s a bootlegger, why hasn’t he been arrested?” Patsy asked. “Bootlegging is illegal.”
Henry shrugged. “Yes, it is, but state laws aren’t as strict as the Volstead Act, which is what the prohibition agents enforce. And, there are a lot of bootleggers out there. Agents have to focus on the big dogs and refer to local law enforcement to do what they can about the smaller operations.”
“Ousted,” Lane said. “And needed money to start over. Here.”
Henry nodded.
Chapter Ten
Patsy wanted to say that she would talk to Burrows again, because neither Lane nor Henry could. Burrows was sure to know who they were, or weren’t in Henry’s case, but she held her silence. They’d see that they needed her. The thrill of that had her curling her toes inside her shoes. This was exactly what she’d wanted, getting to the nitty-gritty of things. Her life was no longer boring, that was for sure. Hadn’t been since she’d met Lane.
“I bet Burrows supplied the whiskey for Victoria’s party last night,” Lane said to Henry. “And that’s why he was at the Rooster’s Nest, trying to market his supply. I’ll do some investigating, find out how to get in contact with him, and anything else that could be helpful.”
“Appreciate it, Lane. Our plan was to draw him out, attempt to capture me, but, as I said, so far, he hasn’t taken the bait. I’m starting to think he’s not worried about Gaynor because he knows for sure he’s dead.” Henry slid his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “I need to get this case wrapped up because I have some personal business to take care of, but can’t until after this case is solved.”
“Knew,” Patsy said aloud, thinking about exactly what Burrows had said.
“Knew what?” Lane asked.
“Burrows, when we danced that night, he said only Gaynor knew where the money was. Not knows. Knew, as if he was sure he was dead.”
“You’re sure?” Henry asked.
“Positive,” she replied, her heart beat increasing.
“I’ll get on it right away.” Lane rested a hand on her back as he twisted them both toward the door. “Let’s meet up tomorrow night, at the Rooster’s Nest.”
“I’ll be there.” Henry followed them to the door, and once they’d all stepped outside, he let out a low whistle. “Look at those clouds. You two better hurry. There’s a storm on the horizon.”
The sky that earlier had been bright blue was now coated with gray-streaked clouds. Patsy turned toward the direction the clouds were rolling in from. The clouds farther west, over the ocean, where most summer storms rolled in from, were tinted an odd shade of green.
“Let’s go,” Lane said, and then bid a hasty farewell to Henry while rushing her toward the trail they’d followed earlier.
“You’re sure Burrows said knew?” Lane asked as they hurried along the trail.
�
��Yes. It’s right there in my head,” she answered. “I can remember it clearly.”
“I believe you. The details in the articles you wrote about the dance-off and Raymond’s party were precise. You have a good memory.” He grinned at her. “Reporters need good memories.”
Happiness bubbled inside her. “Thank you.”
“You still want to be a reporter?” he asked.
“Yes,” she instantly replied.
“Even after this? Trekking through the woods?”
The wind had picked up, too, and she had to hold the hair whipping in her face aside before she could say, “Even more now.” Not just for herself. Knowing what he’d gone through, the loss of his wife and child, made her more determined than ever. He was kind and caring and deserved justice. “This is living, Lane. It’s exciting. Fun.”
They topped the hill and started their way down the other side. “It’s not going to be fun in a few minutes, when that rain hits.”
“I won’t mind,” she said. And didn’t, even when the rain hit with huge, cold drops that the wind blew straight into their faces, making it nearly impossible to see.
Lane stopped and removed his suit jacket. “Here, put this on.”
“I’m already wet,” she said.
He draped it over her shoulders. “It will keep you from getting soaked.”
She stuck her arms in the jacket, and had to push up the sleeve in order to grasp his hand again. The warmth did feel good. “Thank you.”
“We’ll go as fast as we can,” Lane said, tugging her forward, “but watch your step. The ground’s already turning to mud.”
Before they were halfway down the other side, the rumbles of thunder that had come along with the rain grew closer, and flashes of lightning could be seen in the clouds.
“This way!” Lane shouted over the wind. “We have to find shelter, get away from these trees until the lightning passes.”
Clutching his hand tightly, she followed him blindly. Not only was the rain making it impossible to see, the wind whipped branches around, slapping her from tip to toe with wet leaves from all directions. She was dually thankful for the extra layer of protection his jacket provided and tucked her chin down into the folded-up lapels.
Lane stopped at her side and said something, but she couldn’t hear what. The storm was too loud. He wrapped a hand around her waist and pushed her head down with his other hand, then shoved her forward, into a bush.
She squealed as water gushed over her.
“Keep going,” Lane shouted.
He was behind her, pushing her to continue onward. It took her a moment and a flash of lightning to realize he’d found a cave for them to hide in. A small one, more of a recessed cliff overhang, but shelter nonetheless.
Dropping onto her knees, she crawled up against the back wall and sat down. She wiped the water off her face and squeezed it out of her hair while glancing around. Due to the downward curvature of the overhang, which had water pouring off it like a waterfall, the space was dry.
“How did you see this?” she asked as Lane sat down beside her.
“I’m not sure.” He ran both hands through his wet hair. “It just all of a sudden was there.”
A crack of thunder and flash of lightning so close the little cave lit up and the ground shook had her jolting backward. The back of her head hit the rock wall. “Ouch.” She rubbed the back of her head, feeling for a lump.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Was just startled.”
“Let me see.”
She twisted so the back of her head was toward him, but said, “It’s too dark for you to see anything. There’s not even a lump.”
It was darker than night, except for the flashes of lightning that were so close the hair on her arms was standing on end.
He wrapped an arm around her. “We’re safe here. We’ll just wait it out.”
Storms had never bothered her before. Then again, it didn’t rain that often, most certainly not during the summer months, and she’d never been outside during thunder and lightning.
He leaned back against the wall and she rested her neck on his arm. It made a good pillow. The storm wasn’t so bad, now that they were no longer getting soaked.
“How long do you think it will rain?”
“It never lasts long,” he said.
She hadn’t considered the time before, but did now. “What time do you think it is?”
He held up his other hand and stared at his wrist. “Looks like it’s a little after two.”
Nodding, she bit her lip. Mother’s shopping trips always lasted until four, so as long as she was home before then, all would be fine. She could trust Jane to not say anything—as long as she told her sister exactly where she’d been.
She would do that. Jane was sure to be as excited about all this as she was, and would most likely agree with her that she had to speak to Vincent Burrows again. Get the information that Lane, and Henry, needed.
A shiver rippled over her.
“Cold?”
“Wet,” she answered, then nodded. “And cold.” Rubbing her arms, she added, “Because I’m wet.”
“Take the jacket off. That should help.”
She shrugged off his suit coat, and instantly missed its warmth, yet knew her dress would dry faster without being covered.
“That rain sure hit fast,” he said as she leaned back again.
“And hard.”
“The farmers will be happy.”
“We won’t have to water the garden tomorrow,” she said. “Or the flowers.” As her mind started to think about that, home, family, she thought about his wife and daughter. “I’m sorry about your wife and daughter, Lane.”
“Thank you.”
Once again, her tongue acted before she could stop it. “What were their names?”
“My wife’s name was Naomi and our daughter’s name was Sarah.”
Glad he didn’t seem upset by her questions, she continued, “Those are nice names. How old was Sarah?”
“Just a few months. Still a baby.”
Her heart clenched in her chest. “I truly am sorry.”
“I can tell,” he said. “Naomi had taken Sarah down to San Diego, to spend a few weeks with her family. They were on their way home when the robbery occurred.”
She waited for another rumble of thunder to fade before asking, “How long had you been married?”
“A year and a half.”
Patsy closed her eyes at the way her heart constricted, as if feeling his pain. “Do you still miss them?”
“Yes,” he answered quietly. “Mostly I miss the life I believe we could have had together, as a family.”
For all the complaining she did about her family, she was sincerely grateful for them being in her life. All of them.
“Was Naomi a reporter, too?”
“No, she...”
Patsy lifted her head to look him in the face.
A half smile appeared. “She loved being at home, taking care of things there. That worked for us because I was working all the time. Had just bought the Gazette from Victoria’s husband because he was too sick to run it. It had taken all the money we had, but Naomi wasn’t fazed. She could make a meal out of nothing.”
“I can’t.” Patsy’s insides cringed. She hadn’t meant to compare herself with Naomi, but it was the truth. She was allowed only to mix things together, not do the actual cooking. Too many burnt things in the past. Mother said it was because her mind was always on something else, instead of what she was doing. That could be true.
He chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
No, there wasn’t because it proved she would not make a good wife. To anyone, but especially him. Someone who was used to those things. “But I know I could get Vincent Bu
rrows to tell me more.”
Lane shook his head, yet there was still a hint of a smile on his lips. “You probably could, but you heard Henry. Burrows is a dangerous man. One you need to stay away from.”
“Yes, but he knows who you are, so, he won’t talk to you.”
“I don’t need him to talk to me.”
“But you told Henry you’d find out how to get in contact with Burrows.”
“And I will, but that doesn’t mean I’ll talk to him.”
Arguing with him truly got her nowhere. She needed to take a different route. Leaning her head back against his arm again, she asked, “Do you think he was behind Rex Gaynor’s death?”
“Henry is one of the best agents out there. If he believes Burrows was behind it, then I do, too.”
“What about the train? Do you think he was on it?”
“Yes, I do now, having heard what Henry said.”
She sighed. “I do, too, and I wish you’d let me help you catch him.”
He put a knuckle under her chin and turned her face toward him. “I don’t need help catching him. That’s Henry’s job.”
“Yes, you do. He blew up the train. He’s the reason your wife and daughter di—”
Lane pressed a finger against her lips and shook his head.
Then, leaning so close their noses almost touched, he continued, “It’s your safety I’m worried about right now.”
Lightning lit up the small cave, and for a flash of a moment, she could see her reflection in his eyes. And more. She could see the sincerity in his.
Despite the turmoil, the anguish over his loss, a warmth filled her and the butterflies took flight as Lane leaned even closer.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, Patsy.”
An unexplainable magic happened then. It made her entire being tingle, especially her lips. She should move, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t pull her eyes off his, either.
She wanted him to kiss her, like he had last night.
She shouldn’t want that. Knowing all that she did. But she did, and that want grew stronger. So strong, she arched upward, so their lips could meet.
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