Games (Timeless Series)

by Loyd, Sandy

  He was the only person she’d be playing poker with, at least while he was here.

  Somehow he had to get the annoying woman out of his head.

  The closer he got to the Hillier place, the more he realized he really wasn’t looking forward to speaking with the widow again.

  At the house, he dismounted and looked around. Things appeared quiet, and no one stirred. He took the porch steps two at a time, praying Caroline’s foreman was handy.

  After knocking, he waited. A few minutes later the door opened, and the same servant Simon saw the other day stood before him.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” he asked, his demeanor guarded.

  “Is Mrs. Hillier at home?” Even Simon’s warmest smile did no good to soften the man’s expression.

  “She’s out at the moment,” the servant said in a clipped tone.

  “How about Frank Miller? Can you tell me where I might find him?”

  “He’s usually in the stables.” He nodded toward the outbuildings. As Simon turned to go, the servant added, “May I ask who’s calling so that I might inform Mrs. Hillier of your visit.”

  “Just tell her Simon Harrington was here to return her ledgers. Thank you,” he replied, before he stepped off the porch, heading for the stables.

  Inside, he recognized the young hand he’d spoken to earlier.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know if Frank Miller is around,” he asked, walking up to him.

  The kid nodded and pointed to a door. “He’s in the back room.”

  Simon thanked him and started in that direction.

  Knocking once, he entered the room.

  A man wearing spectacles and sitting at a desk looked up as Simon closed the door behind him. “You must be Simon Harrington.” He offered a friendly smile.

  “Yes. And I take it you’re Frank Miller?”

  Nodding, Frank took off his spectacles and tossed them on the desk. “I’ve been expecting you. Caroline said you’d be by sometime today.”

  “Yes. I tried at the house and she’s not in.”

  Frank snorted. “She’s busy.”

  Simon cocked an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”

  Miller frowned. “Hell no.

  “Well, I don’t need to speak with her,” he said. “My questions are for you. Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure thing.” He pointed to a chair. “Have a seat.” He pulled a bottle out of his drawer and held it up. “Would you like something to wet your whistle?”

  Shaking his head, Simon sat in the chair he indicated. “It’s a little early in the day for me. But you go ahead.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Frank Miller reached for a tin cup off the shelf and blew into it. Then he poured himself a liberal drink and sat back down. He took a big swallow, then looked up, piercing Simon with his intelligent gaze. “Ask away.”

  Simon eyed the man thoughtfully before speaking. “I’ve heard several versions of what happened the day the Hillier Meadows’ thoroughbred got loose and had to be put down. I want to hear your version.”

  Frank offered the details as he knew them. The story matched the kid’s version almost word for word.

  “Who do you believe is responsible?” he finally asked after a long pause.

  Miller grunted. “Hell, your guess is as good as mine.”

  “I don’t think so,” Simon disagreed, his attention riveted on the foreman’s face.

  “Care to elaborate?”

  Simon noted his choice of words and smiled. “I’m thinking you know this place and its workers like the back of your hand. Nothing goes on here without you knowing. Am I right?”

  “Yeah, but how would you know that?” Miller said, giving a disgruntled snort.

  “Someone has to, if Mrs. Hillier’s not interested. Even though the place looks deserted, it’s well maintained.”

  Miller nodded slowly, letting out a big breath. “Yeah, I figured I owed it to old man Hillier to keep it up ’til it sells.”

  Simon sat back in his chair without taking his gaze off the man.

  Miller squirmed a bit, then finally added, “Look, me and Mrs. Hillier don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

  Simon kept quiet, his focus glued to Miller.

  Miller broke eye contact and took a big gulp of his drink. “Hell, that’s an understatement. I can’t stand the woman. I’m only praying this place sells soon, because the days never seem to end when she’s around.”

  Simon smiled, understanding Miller’s misgivings given Simon’s earlier experience with the widow. “I can see how Caroline Hillier can be a little overpowering.”

  This earned a hearty laugh from Miller. “The woman’s a rattlesnake in the grass just waiting to strike, only she’s worse because there’s no rattle to warn you.”

  Simon stretched out, crossing his legs, creating a relaxed pose. With humor evident in his voice, he said, “Look, I’m not crazy about Mrs. Hillier either. I merely want information. Nothing you tell me will leave this room. I know you’re the backbone of this stud farm, and I also know you know a lot more than you’re letting on.”

  Frank leaned toward the desk on his elbows and put his head in his hands. He didn’t move. Then he rubbed his face with his hands before glancing at Simon. His head went from side to side. “Nothing goes past this room?”

  Simon nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “I simply want to solve my case.”

  “I need to make sure, though. I know things but I have no proof. Caroline’s got lots of money and she can make my life miserable.”

  “I have a pretty good idea from what you’re not telling me that somehow this farm’s connected. I need to verify my suspicions. Your collaboration will help. I give you my word I’ll keep what you say confidential.”

  “Caroline is a nasty creature.”

  Simon chuckled. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  “No, I’m serious. I believe she killed her husband, but I can’t prove it. Tom Hillier was a good man and he died before his time. He was fifty and in prime condition right before he took sick. She wanted his money…couldn’t wait the ten or twenty years before he’d die naturally, so she aided him.”

  Simon held on to his neutral expression, keeping the urgency out of his voice. “Go on. I’m listening.”

  “She’s got some unsavory friends. I wouldn’t put it past her to have her own horse killed for the money, ’cept the horse was worthless and wasn’t insured.”

  This was news to Simon. He sat up straighter. “How so?”

  “He had no stamina. No drive. But he was a beauty. Fooled everyone ’til I tried to train him.”

  “Interesting. If the horse was worthless, why is she hinting her losses were greater?”

  Miller grunted. “Good question. But I just keep my mouth shut and do my job. When this place sells, I got enough put away for my own small spread.”

  “If you feel so strongly, why are you still here? You obviously have no love for Mrs. Hillier. Why not leave now?”

  “I owe it to Tom Hillier. He was one fine man, and we go way back. I was with him a long time before he met his wife. On his deathbed, he asked me to look out for this place and make sure it was all right. He loved Hillier Meadows more than anything. It’s all he had for a legacy. I figure helping her sell will end my promise. Stupid fool was blind about his wife. As far as I could see, she was his only weakness. In the end, it sent him to an early grave.”

  Simon kept quiet, absorbing the foreman’s words. After a long pause he asked, “What about Isaac Black and Clint Mathers? Where do they fit in?”

  Miller brought his cup to his lips for a long drink, then his chuckle burst forth. “I see you’ve been doing some digging of your own.”

  Simon grunted. “Like I said, I have a pretty good idea by now of where the trail leads. I simply need a little more information to connect the dots.”

  “Well, Black and Mathers are good places to start.” Miller took another swallow. “I never would have hired ei
ther one of ’em, but Caroline insisted.”

  “How long’ve they been here? Your records indicate two years, is that true?”

  “No,” Miller stated emphatically, meeting Simon’s gaze. He sighed, rubbing his face. “I altered the records to make it appear as if they’d been here that long. Black showed up outta the blue a little less than five months ago. Mathers came about a month after Black.”

  Sitting up straighter, Simon let his mind churn. “If they were both someone Caroline wanted, why get rid of them a few months later? And why alter the records?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine. Didn’t make no sense to me, either. But like I said, I just do what I’m told and keep my mouth shut.”

  Simon sat back in his chair, puzzled. “That is odd. There has to be a reason.”

  “I’m sure she has one.”

  “What are you not telling me?” Simon’s intense stare went directly to Miller’s.

  His gaze stayed put until Miller sighed. “Look, you deserve to know the truth. Caroline Hillier has an appetite for men. She uses them up and then discards them. Just so you know, she never goes out much. When she’s out, it usually means she’s entertaining some poor fellow. It’s how she stays ‘busy.’ But she does tire of ’em quickly.” Miller guzzled the rest of his drink, before adding more of the amber liquid. He stopped the cup in midair, noticing Simon’s stare. Keeping his wary gaze on him, he took another big swallow.

  Simon remained quiet with eyebrows raised until Miller shook his head and expanded his explanation.

  “She probably got tired of both Black and Mathers and then got rid of ’em. Hell, she’s even used and discarded me. Only she still needed me to run this place, so here I am,” he said with a self-deprecating groan.

  Miller gave a rueful half smile when Simon didn’t respond. “I’m not proud of it, but some things you simply can’t fight. She’s a beautiful woman and she doesn’t play fair. When she wants something, she goes after it, no matter the cost. She wanted me. God only knows why. I ain’t much to look at, not like Tom was.”

  He stopped talking. Simon sensed he had more to say, so he silently waited for the man to continue.

  Miller finally let out a heavy breath. His voice took on a sad quality when he continued. “But I betrayed my friend for her, something I’ll regret to my dying day. I’ll also hate her until then because of it. Only way I can stomach her now is if I have a couple of drinks in my gut. She has no clue how I feel. I’m sure if she did, the idea would amuse her, so I don’t let on. At this point she thinks I’m some fool who’d do anything for her. Definitely not true. She’d never suspect me of telling you about the doctored records, that’s for damn sure. You ask why I’m still here even though I hate her? My guilty conscience won’t let me leave until I make it up to him. Only then will I be free of her.”

  When his voice died, he took the last swallow of his drink. He slammed the empty cup down on the desk and met Simon’s gaze without flinching. “So now you know my dirty little secret. What’s more, you know a few of hers. Not much more I can tell you.”

  Simon tried to assimilate all the information Miller had relayed. He had no trouble believing him, wasn’t fazed to learn Caroline was nastier than he’d thought. His opinion leaned in that direction anyway. What amazed him was how well she concealed it all.

  Finally he stood. “Well, Frank, I think our little discussion has helped me in a big way. I don’t judge and I appreciate your candor. In fact, now that I know what motivates her, I think it may help make my dealings with the woman a little easier. Don’t worry. This conversation never took place. As far as she’ll know, I simply discussed the workers you let go.”

  Miller nodded as Simon reached into his topcoat and pulled out the ledgers Caroline had given him. “Here are your records.” He handed them to Miller and turned to go. “I can see myself out. Thanks for your help.”

  He headed out of the stables, toward his horse. When he got about halfway, he noticed Caroline coming out of her house and down the steps. He stopped next to his horse and waited.

  “Simon, I was told you were here.”

  “And I was told you were out. What a nice surprise to find you’ve returned so quickly,” Simon replied, bestowing his warmest, most disarming smile.

  Caroline readily returned the smile. “I take it you’ve made up your mind about whether or not you’re willing to play?”

  Simon chuckled. “Oh, honey, my mind was made up the moment I met you. Trouble is, I’m a bit pressed for time right now. I hate rushing, especially when something’s caught my attention. Our game will have to wait.”

  “I don’t mind waiting,” the woman all but purred. “Anticipation can heighten the pleasure. Just don’t keep me waiting too long, darling. My attention tends to wander.”

  Simon reached out and grabbed her, roughly pulling her toward him. His mouth lowered. He let his lips graze, outlining hers with his tongue. “This is to hold your attention for a bit longer,” he murmured, before finishing the kiss. When he lifted his head, he waited until she opened her eyes, and then let her go. “I’ll be in touch, Caroline.” He tipped his hat, and turned to mount his horse.

  “I can hardly wait,” she replied breathlessly.

  Allowing one swift glance in her direction, he couldn’t miss the Cheshire cat-like smile spreading across her face. As he rode toward the main road at a good clip, he shuddered, unable to dislodge the distasteful image from his brain.

  Chapter 16

  Simon headed toward Shelbyville at a good clip, needing to put some distance between himself and Hillier Meadows. In town he rode down the main street, taking in his surroundings as he went. Though small, the town seemed prosperous. Buildings were fairly new or well maintained.

  At the telegraph office, he stopped and dismounted.

  His first errand was to send a telegram to his partner, informing him of all he’d learned. Simon had the feeling he was going to need backup earlier than they’d planned to meet, and he wanted him on the next train.

  When he stepped out of the telegraph office, he searched the storefronts along Main Street until the one he was looking for caught his eye. Leaving his horse tethered, he headed in a direct line for the shop. A little bell over the door tinkled as he ambled inside and glanced around.

  A stunning woman with a killer smile came out of the back room. “May I help you?”

  This had to be Giselle’s sister. While her French accent was a little more pronounced, she had similar eyes and features. “I hope so. I’m looking for Marcus Franklin,” Simon said, offering one of his most disarming grins.

  Her smile faded somewhat and her manner became businesslike. “Who wants to know?”

  Simon chuckled. “She wasn’t wrong when she said her father taught them well.”

  Uncertainty clouded her expression and her gaze narrowed, searching his face thoroughly. “Qu’est-ce que c’est? What are you talking about, monsieur?”

  “It’s Simon. Simon Harrington.”

  The lady’s sharp gaze snapped to his and her smile broadened. “So you are the infamous Simon Harrington. Imagine meeting you here in Shelbyville.” A pleased laugh rushed out when she offered her hand. “Welcome, Simon. I’m Marguerite Dubois.”

  “Enchanté, Madame Dubois,” he said. The amusement he caught dancing in her eyes confused him. He’d never met her before, yet she acted as though she held a secret. Shaking the thought, he released her hand. “I’m looking for your father. I was told he’s retired and living here now.”

  “You are sweet to seek him out.”

  He cleared his throat, unsure of what to do next. “Yes…um…well,” he stammered, wondering why the need to turn and run suddenly hit him. “I was in the area and thought I’d look him up. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen him. He may not remember me, although Giselle assures me he does.”

  Marguerite’s eyes grew the size of saucers. She gawked at him a complete thirty seconds before asking, “You’ve seen my siste
r?”

  Simon smiled. Her familiar mannerisms reminded him of Giselle. “Yes, I’ve seen her. I’m a guest at Twin Oaks for the time being.”

  “How lovely.” Marguerite’s delight was back in force. “Are you having a nice visit?”

  When he glanced into her laughing eyes, a sense of foreboding overwhelmed him. He held her gaze, trying to understand what it was about her that caused the hairs on his neck to rise. “Why do I get this feeling you know something I don’t?”

  “Oh, bah!” Marguerite waved off his concerns with the flick of her wrist. “What could I know? You are surely imagining things, Simon. Let me lock up. Then we will find my parents. I am sure they are dying to see you again.”

  He had no more time to dwell on her actions as she led him toward a well-maintained large house at the edge of town…the affluent edge.

  When they walked through the door, Marguerite yelled, “Mama! Papa! Come quick. Look who is here for a visit.”

  Marcus sprinted down the stairs and Sophie rushed from the back of the house, both arriving in the foyer at the same time.

  “Well, well, well.” Marcus stopped dead in his tracks. He put out his hand and clapped Simon on the back. “If it isn’t Simon Harrington.”

  “Hello, Marcus.” Simon said, shaking his hand. “I was in the area and thought I’d stop by.”

  “Come in, come in.” His nod indicated a larger room behind French doors. “Let’s go in the parlor where we’ll be more comfortable. Sophie, you remember Simon?”

  Sophie smiled warmly, offering her hand. “It is always a pleasure, Simon.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure,” Simon said, taking her hand and kissing it. “Now I see where both Marguerite and Giselle get their good looks.”

  She blushed. “You are too kind, sir. You go ahead and I will have Lizette put together some refreshments.”

  He followed Marcus, who opened the French doors leading into the airy space.

  “Would you care for something stronger than coffee, tea, or chocolate,” he asked.

  “No thanks, I’m working right now.” Simon sat in the plush chair he indicated. “I’ll wait for coffee.”