by Lori Wick
With that she was gone. McKay stood in his room and watched her use her key in her lock and then slip inside. She glanced up at him just before the door shut, and he thought he caught a smile on her face.
McKay swung his own door closed. He stood for a long time thinking about their conversation. His head shook and a smile slowly formed. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but it was certainly going to be fun.
13
Pup worked hard the next two weeks, often with McKay directly across the table from her. On Friday of the second week, she was asked to lunch with Mr. Conway, something rather unusual if bank gossip could be believed. She went along and thought she caught some additional interest on his part. He questioned her extensively as to her background, in a very polite way of course, but Pup had seen this type of operation before and was not easily fooled. He was working up to ask her a favor—maybe not today, but soon.
She caught momentary looks of frustration over the way she struggled to express herself, but he was swift to recover his composure. This, more than anything else, told Pup he was after something. Indeed, by the time they left to return to the bank, he gave her a compliment she was supposed to take as high praise.
“I can see you’re a real bank man, Daniels. There’s a great future in this company if you know what I mean.”
Pup stuttered out a thank-you as they exited the restaurant, and she looked shyly pleased as they drove back to work in the small carriage Mr. Conway had hired to take them across town. McKay was back at the table ahead of her, and she broke character for the first time in ten days of working together.
“Are you headed back to the office tonight?” she whispered, her eyes still on the figures in the book.
McKay was so surprised that he almost looked up.
“Yes,” he whispered back, careful to keep his eyes on his own accounts.
“Get word to Nick that I’ll be at the house tomorrow.”
McKay opened his mouth to say something, but they were interrupted.
“Mr. Phipps would like to see you, Mr. Harrington.”
“All right,” McKay spoke and pushed his chair back. The clerk was waiting for him, so with only a glance at Pup’s bent head he was forced to leave her alone.
“Nick is looking for you,” Camille commented as she came into the bedroom the next morning.
“This water feels too good, Camille. Besides, I thought we were going to talk after lunch.”
“I thought that was the plan, too, but now he’s got a man down there.”
“Oh,” Pup had to think about this. “So do I go down as Peter Crandall or Bryan Daniels?”
“Why don’t you go as Callie Jennings?” Mrs. Wallace asked with innocent eyes.
The sponge froze in Pup’s hand. “Camille,” she asked with great patience, “who is this man?”
“McKay Harrington.” She became suddenly eager. “He’s very good-looking.”
“And he’s already seen me in a dress, so there’s no need to bother.” She went back to soaping.
Camille dropped onto the edge of the bed as though a prize fish had just gotten away.
“When was this?” she demanded in a disappointed tone.
“When he got shot and had to live at my place in the hills for three weeks.”
“That was McKay?”
“Um-hmm—” Pup said absently while lathering the length of one long leg. “I can’t believe Nick didn’t tell you.”
“He told me it had happened, but not who it was. Are you sure you won’t come as Callie?”
“I’m sure, but I am tired of the glasses, so warn Nick to call me Peter.”
Camille sighed. It was no use. Pup’s mind was always on the job. Her husband’s top undercover agent simply had no desire to be attractive to men. McKay Harrington was so polite and handsome. And what could be more convenient than the two of them working for the treasury department? Again she sighed but decided to let the matter drop. If she didn’t go now, she’d forget to tell Nick that Peter was arriving. She let herself out into the hallway, passing Miranda who was bringing more towels to Pup. Camille Wallace asked herself if there was another woman in all the state of Colorado whose life was quite like her own.
“Peter,” Nick spoke the minute he saw Pup, “it’s good to see you. Come on in. I think you met Carlyle Crawford a number of years ago.” Nick paused while the two shook hands.
“It’s good to see you, Mr. Crawford,” Pup said.
“The pleasure is all mine, and please call me Carlyle,” he said graciously, silently awed by her appearance. She looked like a finely dressed young man, tall and slim, ready for a day in the city. There was a smooth confidence about her that never even made him suspect it was a disguise.
“And this is McKay Harrington,” Nick went on, a twinkle in his eye.
McKay was smiling as well. “I tried to tell Bryan yesterday that I would be here, but we were interrupted.” He paused in order to give up the pretense. “And then you weren’t at dinner last night.”
Before answering McKay, Pup glanced at Carlyle to see if he had been informed. “No, I wasn’t,” she said. Then she readily admitted, “If I keep eating Mrs. Meyer’s cooking, I’m not going to fit into any of my pants.”
McKay smiled a little more, but then asked out of frank curiosity, “Where do you get your clothes?”
“Camille gets most of them for me, but I do shop for accessories.”
“Something to drink, Pup?”
“No thank you, Nick,” she said, taking a seat on the sofa. McKay declined a drink as well and sat opposite her. Carlyle and Nick took the chairs.
“Camie’s planning to put a meal on the table in about 30 minutes, but I want to know what you’ve got,” Nick began. “McKay mentioned that you’d gone to lunch with Conway. Any news?”
“He told me that I had a promising future if I could catch his meaning,” Pup explained briefly. “I did, but all I said was thank you.”
“He wasn’t more specific?”
“No, but McKay was called into the office right after I got back. My guess is that they won’t move on me until he’s out of the way.”
McKay’s admiration for her grew. That was exactly why Duncan had called him into the office yesterday—to inquire in a not-so-sweet tone as to when the bank would be seeing the last of McKay Harrington.
“When can you finish up, McKay?”
“Two days, three at the most.”
“Good.” Nick looked satisfied. “Can you manage the boardinghouse a bit longer, Pup?”
“I think so. It would help if the man across the hall didn’t snore.”
“How do you know it’s me?” McKay wished to know, his head turned to look at her.
“Because it didn’t start until you returned from your weekend out of town.”
McKay shook his head as though addressing a simple child, “I’ll have you know, Miss Jennings, I never—”
“That’s Mr. Crandall to you,” Pup corrected him pertly, and back and forth they went.
Nick and Carlyle sat and stared in wonder at the two of them. At one point Nick looked up to see that Camille had come into the room. One look at her and he knew that she was observing the sparring couple as well.
“Lunch is ready,” she announced, and although Nick was certain no one else noticed, he couldn’t help but hear the smug tone in her voice. She would wait until everyone was gone before she would bring it up, but Camille definitely had something on her mind.
“Why didn’t you tell me McKay was the one who got shot?” Camille had waited only until Nick was in the bedroom door. Their guests had been gone for hours, but still she waited for the end of the day. Now she was sitting in bed brushing her hair, clearly anticipating her husband’s arrival.
“I thought I did,” Nick said honestly, shutting the door and reaching for his tie.
“Well, you didn’t. I had to find out from Callie. I tell you, they’re ideal for each other.”
A romanc
e between Pup and McKay had never entered Nick’s mind, so there was no feigning the confusion on his face.
“Ideal for what?”
“Marriage,” Camille said simply, her face alight with pleasure. “What could be more perfect?”
Nick shook his head and scrubbed at his ear. He couldn’t have heard her right.
“You mean Pup and McKay?”
“Of course.”
“Camie,” he began patiently, “that’s not going to happen.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know,” he retorted with complete conviction. “McKay is a dedicated treasury man, and Pup is the best undercover agent I’ve got.”
“And those things mean they can’t fall in love?” Camille’s voice rang with skepticism. However, Nick was not swayed.
“It doesn’t mean they can’t; it just means they won’t.”
Camille was reminded for the thousandth time in their marriage that men and women simply didn’t think alike. And to Camille’s way of thinking, it was too bad. There would be so much more they could all get done if husbands would just go along with their wives’ plans. Settling back against the pillow, Camille let the matter drop. She would have been outraged, however, if she could have heard her husband’s thoughts.
Standing in the closet, he pulled the belt from his waistband and reached to unbutton his shoes. He wanted to laugh but refrained. Pup and McKay! What a joke. I love you Camie, but sometimes you definitely have more beauty than brains.
True to his word, McKay finished up at the First National Bank of Denver early the next week. Pleased to see him go, Duncan Phipps was in a rather expansive mood and asked Bryan Daniels to join him and Mr. Conway for dinner that evening. There was no time to warn Mrs. Meyer, but Pup couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.
The gentlemen escorted Pup to a fine Denver establishment. It was much smaller than the Brown Palace or The Mills House, and also had a much more secretive air. The waiters’ faces were open and friendly, but the tables were all set back in booths, some surrounded by curtains. Pup found herself in the middle of a booth—Phipps and Conway on either side of her.
No talk of business came up during the meal, but Pup could almost feel the tension in Conway. Phipps, though not an old man, had been a liar and a cheat from long years past. He ate his meal with relish and downed several glasses of wine, and then looked very pleased with himself as the plates were finally cleared. Pup watched in silence as he lit a cigar.
“Conway here tells me you’ve got quite a head for figures, Daniels.”
“Th-thank y-you, s-sir.” Pup’s whole body shook with the effort, and then she ducked her head.
“In fact,” Phipps went on expansively, “Conway is so impressed with you that I’ve decided to let you do a little work for me.”
Pup forced herself to think of the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to her and actually managed to blush.
“M-me, s-sir?” she looked shyly delighted. “Th-thank you, s-sir.”
The look of strained patience that she’d seen in Conway’s face many times crossed Phipps’ features, but he managed to keep smiling.
“I’ve got some special accounts,” he began.
“S-special, s-sir?”
“Yes,” his voice dropped to a confidential tone. “You see, Daniels, every bank has special customers. You know of course that all our customers are special to us, but we also have a few extra-special accounts.”
Awe filled Pup’s eyes, and Duncan Phipps’ chest swelled with success. He went on to explain that he would want her to come in at regular times, but in the afternoon she would go to work in their special office. Pup took it all in—presumably hook, line, and sinker. By the time the men parted for the evening, the bankers thought they had found a bookkeeper worth his weight in gold.
Pup eased the door to McKay’s room open and hoped he wasn’t asleep. The lock had been child’s play to flip, but the door hinges had a low groan to them. Pup had just closed the door behind her and leaned against it when she felt cold steel against her neck.
“I’d rather you didn’t shoot,” she whispered and heard McKay’s breath leave him in a rush.
“What are you—” he began, but Pup cut him off in an equally soft whisper.
“Get word to Nick. There’s another office. They call it the ‘special office,’ and it’s not on the premises of the regular bank. I’ll be headed there tomorrow afternoon to work on some special accounts. Tell Nick I’ll be by early Thursday morning to tell him where it is.”
With that she turned to reach for the door handle, but McKay caught her arm.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Nothing, I just wondered how you’re doing.”
“I’m all right.”
“Good” was all McKay said, but he continued to hold her arm in indecision. Was he allowed to tell her that he had a lead on Jubal? Or even that Jubal had been spotted in the city? Not knowing for certain, he realized he had to let the matter drop.
“Are you all right?” Pup finally asked in the silent darkness.
“Yes.”
His voice was not convincing to Pup. She wished she could see his face, but now was not the time to get into this.
“Thanks for taking the message.”
“You’re welcome. Take care.”
She didn’t answer but slipped quietly back out of the room and into her own. Not bothering with a lamp, Pup readied for bed in the dark and crawled between the sheets. As always, her first thoughts went to Boulder and how she missed her bath in the lake, her own bed, and her favorite flannel nightgown. Tonight her second thoughts were on McKay. Something was wrong. She didn’t know what or why, but something was clearly amiss. Pup fell asleep wondering if it had anything to do with her.
14
“Nick not up yet?” Pup walked into the kitchen at the Wallaces’ early Thursday morning and spoke to Miranda, who was working over the stove.
“He was here a moment ago,” she said calmly, “but then left. He looked a little sleepy. You want coffee?” Miranda asked as she set a steaming mug in front of Peter Crandall.
“Thank you,” Pup spoke as she took a long satisfying pull at the hot liquid. She sat drinking in silence, her mind on what she must report to Nick concerning the special accounts. Just before he came in her thoughts had swung to McKay, so when Nick arrived she only stared at him.
“Are you awake?” Nick asked when she looked at him.
“Yes,” Pup gave a little shake of her head to dispel McKay’s image. “Are you?”
“Barely. Just how early do you have to be at this office?”
“Not early at all, but I can’t be seen coming from here and then going right to the bank. I’d find myself at the wrong end of a gun.”
The cup headed on the way to Nick’s mouth paused in mid-air.
“Have you been threatened?”
“No, I haven’t, Nick,” her voice was logical, “but Duncan Phipps is not going to be pleased when he finds out he’s been duped.”
“He’s not going to find out,” Nick said, and then drank from his suspended cup.
Pup’s brows rose.
“The location of this special office is all I need,” Nick explained. “I’m not going to move on it anytime soon, but knowing where it is, I can watch it and catch Phipps and Conway in the act.”
“So how long will you want me to stay on?”
“For a time, if possible, so they won’t suspect. I’d actually like to throw you in jail with the rest of them, and then your cover would be completely masked.”
Pup was impressed. She didn’t relish staying on the job much longer, but it was an excellent plan.
Miranda put food on the table now, and between bites Pup told Nick all she’d seen and been expected to do. None of the account names were a surprise to her superior, but she knew he was pleased to have his suspicions confirmed. Thirty minutes later Pup went on her way. She deliberately walked back to
the boardinghouse before starting toward the bank. She had no sense that she was being followed but wasn’t willing to take a chance.
Little more than 24 hours later, Pup stood by the work table at the bank and told herself to breathe. It was almost time for her to head to the special office, but she felt frozen to the floor. She’d been on her way to Duncan Phipps’ office to deliver some paperwork when her brother Jubal came from the office, Duncan on his heels. He didn’t see her—he’d been too busy taking instructions from the banker—but Pup felt her world rock.
She had known for years that her brothers had been up to no good, but never had she heard of a tie-in to Duncan Phipps and the First National. Now, having seen the special accounts and the hundreds of thousands of dollars that were unaccounted for and thus untaxed, she wanted to be sick. How could they have sunk so low? How could they have chosen to work for a swindler like Duncan Phipps? Oh, he was classy with his fine suits and smooth manners, but the man was a thief, avoiding taxes through whatever means possible—phony mine stocks, out-and-out theft, or something he termed “special accounts.” The man wasn’t picky
Nick’s face suddenly flashed into her mind, and Pup found she could hardly stay on her feet. The direction of her thoughts was suddenly too much for her. One of the tellers was saying something to her, but she couldn’t attend. A few minutes later Conway was standing before her, finally arresting her attention. Not realizing how pale her face had become, she saw that his eyes were concerned as he stared at her.
“What is it, Bryan?”
“S-sick,” Pup barely remembered to stutter.
Conway took a step backward. The last thing he wanted was to be ill. Bryan Daniels had turned out to be the perfect bank employee, but right now he looked awful.
“Go home,” he urged the younger man. “Maybe you’ll feel better by Monday. Go home, Bryan.”
Pup only nodded and started toward the door. Her brother was long gone, but she could almost feel his presence. Would he have recognized her? Would he have even looked in her direction? And the biggest question of all: Would Nick really do this to her?
