Calico Spy

by Margaret Brownley

  Andy gave him a knowing look. “This is a story about baby Jesus, isn’t it?”

  “Not exactly. This lady’s name wasn’t Mary. It was Dorothy.”

  “Was Dorothy in Bethlehem, too?”

  Branch chuckled. “Actually, Dorothy lived right here in Calico. Just as the baby arrived a terrible tornado hit the town.” His voice remained strong with only an occasional pause as he searched for the right words. He’d prayed long and hard before sitting down with his son, and so far God was doing a pretty good job of guiding him along.

  Andy giggled upon hearing that the baby had been put into an oven. “Like Moses,” he said.

  Branch arched an eyebrow. “Moses was put in a basket.”

  “I know, but his mother wanted to save him. So she put him in the basket.”

  Branch thought for a moment. “You’re right. His mother did want to save him. Just as Dorothy wanted to save her son.”

  Andy listened with rapt attention as Branch continued. His eyes grew big and round as Branch described digging him out of the debris. Enough time had passed so that he could now relay the story without getting all choked up. Only an occasional catch interrupted the flow of words.

  “I like that story,” Andy said when Branch fell silent.

  “That’s just it, Son. It’s not a story. Every word of it is true. That’s how you came to be my son. I dug you out from underneath that house with these very hands.” He held up both hands and turned them over.

  Andy frowned as if trying to make sense of it all. “What happened to the lady who put me in the oven?” he asked at last.

  “She was my wife, and she died and went to heaven. That’s her picture on the piano.”

  “Do you have a photograph of the other lady?”

  “The other lady was your mother. I’m sorry to say, I don’t have a picture of her.”

  Andy thought about this for a moment. “Too bad there wasn’t room in the oven for them, too.”

  Branch hugged his son close. “Yeah, too bad.”

  Andy laid his head on Branch’s chest. “I wouldn’t fit in the oven now.”

  “Nope. You sure wouldn’t.”

  “Clarice just got a new mother.” Clarice was one of Andy’s schoolmates.

  “So I heard.” Branch was as surprised as anyone when old man Anderson remarried. Got himself one of those mail-order brides.

  “Do you think I could get a new mother, too?”

  The question was like a knife to his heart. Or maybe the thought of Katie leaving was behind the stabbing pain.

  Branch stared at the red cinders in the fireplace and thought of moonlight and roses and sweet ruby lips. “You’ll have to talk to God about that.”

  “I want Miss Katie to be my ma.”

  Another twist of the knife. “We can’t always have what we want, Son.” Even if one could, there was no guarantee of keeping it.

  Katie waited for Cissy to climb the stairs that night. The others were still downstairs eating supper, and so the second floor was deserted.

  Cissy reached the landing and, upon spotting Katie, paused. Worry fleeted across her face… or maybe it was guilt.

  “We need to talk,” Katie said.

  Cissy shoved her hands into her apron pockets. “What… what about?”

  Katie held up the note found on her pillow. “This. You left it, didn’t you? In my room.”

  Cissy glanced at the stairs as if to make certain they were still alone. Or maybe she was looking for a way to escape. “How’d you know that?”

  Katie hadn’t known for certain until that moment. “You were the only one who didn’t seem surprised to learn my identity.” She regarded the girl with narrowed eyes. “How’d you know I was a detective?”

  “I didn’t. I only knew that…” Cissy’s voice faded away.

  “Go on.”

  “I had a dream that someone would come and find the killer.”

  Katie reared back. “You had a dream?”

  Cissy nodded. “And the person in my dream had red hair.”

  Katie stared at her. The girl was kidding, right? But she sure did look serious. “And you thought I was the one in your dream?”

  Cissy gave her a look of curiosity. “You’re the only one working here with red hair.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me who the killer was instead of writing in riddles?” They were just lucky Culpepper hadn’t killed again. “Had you told me from the start it was Culpepper, that would have saved us all a lot of trouble.”

  The girl looked confused or maybe just scared, but Katie was of no mind to let her off the hook. Instead, she wheeled about and headed for the stairs.

  “Oh no, Miss Katie,” Cissy called after her. “The killer ain’t him.”

  Chapter 48

  Branch couldn’t believe how well his talk with Andy had gone. He still hadn’t told him about his father. Andy didn’t ask, and Branch didn’t volunteer. But the questions were bound to come and when they did, he would, with God’s help, be ready.

  He was just about to lock up and hit the sack when a rap sounded at his door. A night visitor was never a good sign. It almost always spelled trouble, but the last person he expected to find on his doorstep this late was Katie.

  His heart lurched at sight of her. Even in the dim light she looked soft and desirable. Beautiful. Had she come to say good-bye? The thought filled him with such anguish he clenched his hands by his side in an effort to maintain control.

  He finally found his voice. “Come in,” he said hoarsely, before realizing she wasn’t alone.

  The two women stepped inside, and Katie introduced him to her companion. “This is Cissy. She’s the Harvey House pantry girl.”

  The dark-skinned girl stared at him, the brown irises of her eyes swimming in a sea of liquid white. He remembered seeing her after Ginger’s death. Had even questioned her, but she denied knowing anything. He nodded at the girl before turning back to Katie.

  “What’s this about?”

  For answer Katie turned to Cissy. “Tell him what you told me.”

  Lowering her gaze to the floor, the girl mumbled something. Branch leaned forward to catch the last of her words. Startled, he pulled back.

  “Did she say Culpepper is not the killer?”

  Katie nodded. “That’s exactly what she said.”

  “Then who?”

  “That’s the problem. She doesn’t know his name but thinks she might be able to identify him if she saw him again.”

  He frowned. “How does she know it’s not Culpepper?”

  “She saw the man who killed Ginger, and it wasn’t Culpepper.”

  “Saw him?”

  “Her bedroom window overlooks the back of the house. She didn’t see the actual murder, but she saw a man leave the alley around the time of Ginger’s death.”

  He fixed his gaze on the girl. “Why didn’t you say something about this before now?” He didn’t mean to sound harsh, but neither did he have patience with people who held back information or claimed to see things they didn’t.

  Katie touched his arm and beseeched him with a slight shake of her head. “She’s scared,” she whispered.

  The girl was shaking. Either she was scared of the killer or scared of him. Could she be telling the truth? Hard to know.

  Katie moved her hand away, and he shifted his gaze back to Cissy. “The man you saw… Is he a restaurant customer?”

  For answer Cissy shrugged her shoulders, and he frowned.

  “She’s not allowed to leave the kitchen during restaurant hours,” Katie explained.

  “Can you describe him?” Branch asked.

  Cissy shook her head. “I only saw his face for a second. He had a beard.”

  Branch rubbed his chin. “That narrows it down to ninety percent of the men in this town. What about his hair color?”

  Cissy’s gaze dropped to the floor. “It was too dark.”

  “She thinks she’ll recognize him if she sees him again,” Katie said. �
�That’s why we need your help.”

  “My help?”

  “I’ve arranged for her to work in the dining room tomorrow. If she recognizes anyone, she’ll point him out to us.”

  It sounded like a wild-goose chase. Still, he’d bet his life that Culpepper didn’t work alone, and he was willing to do anything to prove it. “I’ll be there.”

  Katie nodded. “Thank you.”

  Cissy walked outside, but Katie hesitated. She obviously had something else on her mind.

  He slanted his head. “Katie?”

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I thought of something earlier. About the cups. Long-Shot is left-handed, and he was friendly with Culpepper. He also has a beard.”

  “Long—” He frowned. He’d known the man for several years and never noticed he was left-handed. Still, that didn’t mean he was Culpepper’s partner. The man was a loser, but a killer? “You don’t think—?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see if Cissy recognizes him.” She turned and joined Cissy outside.

  Her gaze softened as she glanced back at him, and his heart responded with a jolt. “You better get some shut-eye.”

  He nodded, though he doubted he’d sleep any better tonight than he had the other nights. “Be careful.”

  Katie hooked her arm around Cissy’s and waved with her free hand.

  Stepping onto the porch, he watched the two of them slip away into the folds of the night. “If she recognizes anyone, she’ll point him out to us.”

  It sounded like a simple enough plan. There really was no reason for him to worry. Or was there? He turned to the house. Long-Shot?

  Chapter 49

  Katie met Cissy behind the counter that morning. It was early, and not even the locals had arrived yet. Dressed as a Harvey girl, the pantry girl looked every bit the part. She even had the smile down pat. She really was a pretty girl when she didn’t look scared or insecure.

  “Perfect,” Katie said, clasping her hands to her chest.

  Cissy’s smile grew even wider. “I dreamt about being a Harvey girl.” Today she held her head high, and her eyes shone with newfound confidence.

  Katie smiled but didn’t say anything. Cissy did a lot of dreaming, that was for sure.

  Tully stopped in front of the counter. “What’s she doing here?”

  “I’m training her to take over for me,” Katie said.

  “That’s ridiculous. Everyone knows that Mr. Harvey would never allow a blackie—” She broke off as Branch walked in the door. Tossing her head, she moved away.

  Branch greeted Katie with a finger to the brim of his hat. Instead of his usual place at the counter, he opted for a table with a full view of the room. Once seated, he opened up his newspaper.

  Katie filled a cup with coffee and set it on a tray. “Here, take this to the sheriff.” She handed the tray to Cissy. “And don’t forget to smile.”

  The locals started arriving just after seven. Buzz sat by the door collecting money. During each lull his gaze followed Tully. Katie sighed and dug her fingers into her palms. Tully had no idea how lucky she was. Buzz was smitten with her, but Tully hardly seemed to notice. Was she really so heartless as to taunt him? Or was there some deep-rooted reason why she so shamelessly flirted with all the other men?

  Maybe she was afraid of Buzz abandoning her as her mother had. Was that why she was so reluctant to commit to him and him alone?

  Pickens snapped his fingers, bringing her out of her reverie, and she immediately set to work.

  Chair legs scraped the floor as railroaders gathered around the tables. One of the men was telling a joke about two drunks who were walking upgrade on a railroad track and complaining about the banisters being too low.

  The punch line brought uproarious laughter from his audience. Even Mrs. Bracegirdle chuckled as she took her usual place at the counter.

  “I can’t tell you how much better I slept last night without all that racket next door,” she said.

  Katie smiled. The woman did indeed look more rested. Perhaps the lack of sleep had caused the occasional mental lapses. Katie certainly hoped it was true.

  Cissy returned with an empty tray.

  “Is this a new girl?” Mrs. Bracegirdle asked.

  “Yes, this is Cissy. Cissy, this is Mrs. Bracegirdle and she likes her coffee hot and strong.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Cissy reached for a clean cup and saucer.

  She was a fast learner and seemed to have no trouble keeping track of orders. Since she normally worked in the kitchen, she was familiar with the lingo and could yell out menu dishes like she’d been doing it all her life. Even Gassy looked impressed.

  Surprisingly, none of the locals objected at having a black girl work behind the counter, and this pleased Katie. Times, they were a-changing.

  Katie moved to Cissy’s side. “See anyone who looks like our man?” she whispered.

  Cissy’s brown-eyed gaze swept the room. “No, no one.”

  “What about that man over there?” She inclined her head toward Long-Shot, who was joking with the railroad workers.

  When Cissy shook her head, Katie didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. She really liked Long-Shot but was hoping for a quick resolution.

  Branch left with the locals just before the train arrived. There was no reason for him to stick around for a bunch of strangers, but Katie hated to see him go.

  “Now what?” Cissy asked.

  “Go work in the pantry and come back at noon. Oh, and don’t forget to put on a fresh apron.”

  The midday crowd came and went, and still Cissy recognized no one. Same for the supper hour.

  Cissy helped Katie clear away the tables and set them for breakfast.

  “Sorry.” The girl looked so upset Katie felt sorry for her.

  “Not your fault.” Katie straightened a plate. “We tried. That’s all we can do. We’ll give it another shot tomorrow.”

  Cissy bit her lip. “You mean I get to be a Harvey girl for another day?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Do you think Mr. Harvey will ever allow a blackie like me to be one for real?”

  Katie hated to get the girl’s hopes up, but neither did she want to discourage her. “You never know. Not that long ago he hired only males.” He soon discovered his mistake. Women were more dependable and didn’t imbibe on the job. “Maybe when I tell Mr. Harvey what a good job you did, he’ll reconsider his policy.”

  Cissy smiled, though she didn’t look all that convinced.

  Cissy didn’t recognize any of the locals the next day or even the following, but Katie wasn’t ready to give up. Detective work could be so frustrating at times, but patience often paid off, and she was counting on that.

  On the fourth day, following Branch’s departure, Okie-Sam walked in and sat at the counter. Today, his hair looked more orange than red. “How come so serious looking, sis?” he asked.

  She smiled. “No reason.” She filled his cup. “Haven’t seen you around for a while.” Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him since the day Andy had been kidnapped.

  “Just got back to town last night. Funeral.”

  She frowned. “Your father?”

  He nodded. “His heart.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Yeah, well. You know what they say. No one leaves this world alive.” After a beat he added, “I’ll have the usual.”

  She called his order of scrambled eggs and bacon to the kitchen. Abigail reached behind the counter for clean napkins. With a flick of her eyes, she indicated Katie’s apron.

  Katie looked down and groaned. Somehow she had spilled syrup on her bib. “Take over for me while I change, will you, Abigail?”

  “Will do.”

  Katie ducked from behind the counter, crossed to the hall, and took the stairs two at a time. Reaching her room, she lifted the apron over her head. In her haste she knocked over a perfume bottle. The glass atomizer bounced against the wall and shattered.


  A sickly perfume smell wafted upward, but Katie hardly noticed. Her gaze was riveted on the shards of glass at her feet. Snatches of dialogue ran through her head, and she thought about those cups with the handles turned to the left.

  “What happened to you?” she’d asked Okie-Sam.

  “Cut it on some glass.”

  She held her hands up. Right hand or left? Which hand had he cut? Right. She was pretty sure he’d injured the right hand. That would force him to use his left, even while drinking from a cup, wouldn’t it?

  Forcing herself to breathe, she checked the weapon in her pocket. Could this be it, God? Is this what You’ve been trying to tell me all this time? Heart pounding, she raced from the room.

  Abigail and Okie-Sam were deep in conversation when Katie returned. Abigail leaned over the counter to stare at the watch in his hand.

  “Pa was an honest man. Worked his fingers to the bone, he did. And you know what happened? His wife took off with a Bible salesman, people stole his cattle, and the bank foreclosed on his farm. All he had to his name on the day he died was this here cheap watch.”

  Katie took her place next to Abigail and willed her heart to stop pounding. “That must have made you angry,” she said, watching his face.

  Okie-Sam slipped the watch into his shirt pocket and picked up his fork. “Anger doesn’t begin to describe how I feel.” He stabbed at the bacon on his plate and lifted the fork to his mouth. She studied his hands. Today he wore no bandage, but a jagged red mark from a recently healed scar sliced across the top of his right hand. Could glass have made a wound like that? Or had he cut it while working his way to the bank vault?

  “I can take it from here.” Katie nudged Abigail away.

  Abigail gave her a puzzled look but didn’t argue.

  Katie had no intention of doing anything rash or overplaying her hand. Okie-Sam suspected nothing, and she meant to keep it that way. Branch would make the arrest. No need to hurry.

  Okie-Sam watched as she made a fresh pot of coffee. “Guess you had some excitement while I was gone,” he said.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Excitement?”

  “Heard they arrested the killer. Heard he worked here.”