A Stolen Heart

by Amanda Cabot

  “That’s the main question, but I keep asking why someone would go to so much trouble to frame me.”

  This time Travis nodded as if he agreed. “It’s probably the same reason that whoever attacked Opal and Edgar tried to throw suspicion on Nate.”

  “And whoever poisoned Nate’s goats wanted Warner to take the blame. The person’s a coward, but even more, he’ll do anything to avoid getting caught.”

  “The pattern is so consistent that it appears that the same person is responsible for all the crimes.”

  Lydia agreed. “The problem is, I can’t imagine the motive.” She had thought of little else since she’d been on the wrong side of the bars. “I can understand lust being the reason for Opal’s rape and that the man wanted to kill Edgar because he’d married her, but that doesn’t explain Nate’s goats or Aunt Bertha’s murder, much less the robberies and broken windows.”

  Travis nodded. “On the surface they appear to be unrelated.”

  Perhaps they were, but Lydia’s instincts said otherwise. “What if we look beneath the surface? What if we consider not the victims but the people who were blamed? I keep thinking there must be a connection between everyone who was framed, if only we could find it.”

  Travis didn’t disagree with her. Instead, he settled back in his chair and said, “Let’s start with Aunt Bertha. The first thing is to figure out who had the opportunity to poison her candy. Whoever did that had to know she kept chocolates on her bedside table.”

  “I’m afraid that’s just about everyone in Cimarron Creek. She mentioned it after church on Sunday, and the story spread. After that, several women came into the store asking for a small box they could keep for themselves.”

  “And anyone could have bought chocolate creams with yellow roses.”

  Lydia started to nod, then stopped as her heart began to race. “Yellow roses? What are you talking about? Aunt Bertha’s bedside chocolates had pansies on them.”

  Travis shook his head. “Not that day. The box on her night table had yellow roses.”

  “That makes no sense, Travis. Aunt Bertha’s candies had blue pansies on them. When she finished the first box, I made a second batch for her, also with blue pansies.”

  Travis shook his head again as he rose and unlocked the safe, withdrawing the box of candy he’d taken from Aunt Bertha’s room. “Look,” he said as he lifted the lid and displayed the remaining four creams. Not one was decorated with pansies.

  “Aunt Bertha must have gotten hungry and eaten them during the middle of the night. Otherwise, she would have realized these weren’t her candies.” Lydia thought quickly, trying to put the pieces together. “I only sold creams with yellow roses to one person—Hilda Gray. They’re the special design that she serves at her quilting bees.”

  “So anyone who was there could have taken them, filled them with digitalis, and put them in Aunt Bertha’s room. I’m sure every one of the quilters was at the party.”

  “That’s true. They did come to the party and they were all upstairs, but I can’t see how they could have taken half a dozen or more without anyone at the quilting bee noticing. Usually the women eat two or three apiece. I know Hilda doesn’t send extras home with them, because she told me Porter eats whatever’s left. In fact, this month she ordered an additional dozen just for him.”

  The pieces were starting to fit together, and yet something felt wrong. A fragment of a memory teased the back of Lydia’s brain.

  “Maybe they weren’t for Porter. Maybe Hilda planned to fill them with poison for Aunt Bertha. Poison is often a woman’s weapon.” Travis laid the box of candy back on his desk. “Do you remember if you saw Hilda upstairs the day Aunt Bertha died?”

  “She was there,” Lydia said, “but so were a lot of other people. It seemed like half the town wanted to see the upstairs rooms. That’s why Aunt Bertha insisted that all the rooms be left open, so they could peek inside. The one thing I remember is that Hilda seemed upset when I found her in the hallway.”

  Lydia could see Travis filing that away for future reference. “Do you think she was guilty or simply embarrassed because you caught her snooping?”

  “I don’t know.” Lydia tried to imagine Hilda as a murderer. It was possible, and yet it didn’t feel right to her. “She definitely wasn’t responsible for Opal and Edgar’s attacks. We know that was a man. And the bags of poison that killed Nate’s goats were heavy. I saw that when Warner sold the first one to Nate. A woman could have lifted them, but it wouldn’t have been easy.”

  Travis was silent for a moment, perhaps considering how thin Hilda was. “What if she was an accomplice? You said she ordered the extra candy. That sounds as if she was involved.”

  “Or perhaps she just wanted extra candy for her husband. Aunt Bertha said she might have been buttering him up because she wanted a new dress.”

  Travis nodded. “You’re probably right. It’s hard enough for one person to keep a secret in a town this size. If there were two people, I can’t imagine someone else not hearing about it. Let’s go back to our original premise that only one person is responsible for the crimes.”

  “And that’s not Hilda.”

  “No.” Travis frowned. “Aunt Bertha’s murder has narrowed the possible suspects. A lot of people may have known that she keeps candy in her room, but only a few knew she took digitalis.”

  “Catherine and Warner. But neither of them would—” Before Lydia could complete her sentence, a gust of wind sent something skittering across her feet. Instinctively, she raised them and shrieked.

  Travis chuckled as he reached into the cell and pulled out a dried leaf. “Nothing to worry about. We don’t have mice here.”

  “That’s what Porter said the first time I rented a buggy. He told me his cat made sure of that.” Lydia paused as the elusive memory she’d tried so hard to recall came into focus. “Porter said that, but he had some yellow sacks on his shelves. I didn’t think about it at the time, but they looked just like the one Warner sold to Nate. Why would Porter need rat poison when he has a cat?”

  “Porter.” Travis’s brow furrowed as he considered the possibility. “You’re right that he would have had no need for poison. He’s proud of Homer’s mouse- and rat-catching skills.” The furrows deepened. “It’s hard to imagine why he would have poisoned Nate’s goats and even harder to picture Porter as a murderer. He and Warner have been like brothers to me.”

  “But brothers kill. I don’t imagine Abel was expecting his brother to kill him.” And while the yellow sacks she’d seen in the livery weren’t proof of anything, they did shed suspicion on Porter.

  Lydia thought back to the afternoon of the engagement party. “Porter was upstairs at the same time as Hilda. He was at the opposite side of the hallway, closer to Aunt Bertha’s room. I didn’t think about it at the time, but he could have been coming out of her room.”

  Though he appeared thoughtful, Lydia could see that Travis still wasn’t convinced. “I know you don’t like the idea of your cousin as the killer, but he had the opportunity to replace the good candy with poisoned pieces.”

  Travis nodded. “He probably knows as much about digitalis as you and I do. Warner is always talking shop. I wouldn’t be surprised if Warner told Porter Aunt Bertha was taking digitalis.”

  Though Travis’s words were matter-of-fact, Lydia heard the pain in them as he came to grips with the idea that a man he trusted might be a killer. “Porter and Hilda were having dinner with his parents the night Aunt Bertha had her attack. It would make sense that Warner told them all what he’d prescribed.

  “And Porter would have had little trouble stealing digitalis from the pharmacy. If I could guess where Warner kept his spare key, you can be sure his brother could too.”

  Lydia heard the sorrow in Travis’s voice. “Don’t forget the yellow sacks I saw at the livery,” she said. “Chances are they were the ones that poisoned Nate’s goats.”

  “True.” Travis frowned, then pressed his fingertip
s between his eyes as if to straighten the furrows that had formed there. “It’s beginning to look like Porter’s our man. The fact that most of the incidents took place on Tuesday night makes sense. Hilda wouldn’t have been concerned that Porter wasn’t home, because she knew our dominoes games sometimes run late.”

  Travis’s lips thinned with what Lydia suspected was frustration. “The problem is, I don’t understand why he’d do such things. I thought he was happy or at least content with his life. He has a wife and a child. He makes a good living and is a respected member of the community. Why would he rape Opal, attack Edgar, and poison Aunt Bertha?”

  “I don’t know. There’s no way to know what’s inside another’s heart. We can speculate, but unless Porter tells us, we’ll never be sure.”

  As Travis stared into the distance, Lydia reviewed all the crimes. There was still a problem, one fact that didn’t fit the emerging picture. “How do we explain that the livery was the target of arson?”

  Travis was silent for a moment, considering the question. “It could be totally unrelated, or it could be that Porter was clever and set it himself. He must have figured that no one would suspect someone who’d been a victim.”

  Rising, Travis strode from the jail cell to the opposite side of the office, his boot heels clicking on the floor. He stood at the window, staring outside for a few seconds, then spun around. “You’re right,” he said when he reached the cell again. “I hate the idea that Porter’s responsible, but everything seems to point to him.”

  Lydia tried and failed to imagine Porter locked in this cell. His parents already questioned Travis’s ability as sheriff. They’d claim Porter’s arrest was further proof of Travis’s incompetence.

  “The problem is, we have no evidence other than the candy. The rest is supposition.”

  Travis shrugged. “So we need to find a way to catch him.”

  “You mean set a trap?”

  “Exactly.”

  30

  The news spread like wildfire. Within minutes of the shop’s reopening, it was filled with curious customers.

  “I never did believe you were guilty,” Mrs. Higgins announced as she ordered a pound of taffy. “Bertha Henderson was nobody’s fool. She would never have left you what she did if she didn’t trust you.”

  Though tears still filled Lydia’s eyes each time she thought of the horrible way Aunt Bertha had died, she managed a small smile. “She was a wonderful woman, and I loved her dearly.”

  “Of course you did.” Mrs. Higgins patted Lydia’s hand and increased her order to two pounds.

  “I shouldn’t ask, but I will anyway,” Mrs. Wilkins said half an hour later while she vacillated between a pound of chocolate creams and one of fudge. “Was it horrible being in jail?”

  This time Lydia’s smile was genuine. “I’ve had more pleasant nights,” she admitted. “The food was delicious, though, thanks to Opal.”

  Mrs. Wilkins nodded and bought both the creams and the fudge, leaving Lydia to speculate that being notorious was a good way to increase sales. The situation would have been more amusing if a murderer hadn’t still been on the loose. Though Travis had seemed confident that their plan would work, Lydia knew she would not rest easily until Porter was behind bars.

  “Are you going to keep the store open?” Rachel Henderson asked when she stopped in to buy some mints for Nate. “I can’t convince him to stop chewing the leaves, but he never refuses when I offer him some of your mint drops.” She glanced at the glass-fronted cabinet. “I see you have peppermint sticks too. I’ll take half a dozen. If Nate doesn’t want them, the boys will.”

  As she paid for the candy, Rachel repeated her question about keeping the store open.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Though Lydia had expected the other questions, this one surprised her.

  Rachel acted as if the answer should have been obvious. “You don’t need the money.”

  “But the town needs good candy. Opal and I plan to keep making candy as long as we have customers like you to buy it.”

  While she’d been in jail and had little to do but think, Lydia had decided to make Opal a partner. Not only did the young woman deserve recognition for the work she put into the shop, but it would give her a measure of independence. While Lydia trusted Edgar to provide for his wife and child, it never hurt a woman to have her own source of income. The tears of joy that had filled Opal’s eyes and the look of pride on Edgar’s face when Lydia had broached the subject confirmed the wisdom of her plan.

  The only question had been who would care for Opal’s baby while she was working. Though Lydia saw no problem in having the child at the house each morning while Opal cut and boxed candy, the store was a different situation. A crying baby would distract customers. But when Widow Jenkins had mentioned how much she missed having children in her home, Opal’s eyes had widened. Within minutes, the two women had made arrangements for the kindly widow to serve as a surrogate grandmother.

  “I heard the judge is coming tomorrow.” Though she rarely entered the store, claiming her presence might discourage other women from patronizing Cimarron Sweets, today Faith Kohler left the Silver Spur long enough to buy two pounds of fudge.

  “That’s what Travis said.” Lydia confirmed the official story. “Of course, there could be delays.”

  “You must be anxious to turn over the evidence.” Faith wasn’t pumping for information, merely stating a fact. The news that Travis had released Lydia when she produced evidence proving she was not the murderer had spread quickly. And though Travis had never said it, the rumor mill quickly embellished the story with the speculation that the evidence pointed to the true murderer.

  “I am anxious,” Lydia admitted. “I want life to get back to normal.” Or as normal as it could be with Aunt Bertha gone.

  As the parade of women continued throughout the day, Lydia noticed two things: first, though everyone was undoubtedly curious, no one asked what the evidence was, and second, neither Hilda nor Mary Gray set foot inside the store. The reason could be that they were aware of Porter’s guilt, or it could simply be that they were angry at the bequest Lydia had received. She’d know which was true soon enough.

  The day passed more quickly than Lydia had dared hope, and almost before she knew what was happening, Travis was walking her home. Since neither of them wanted Catherine involved, Lydia had suggested that Opal ask her to help put the finishing touches on the baby’s layette tonight. Now that she didn’t have to worry about Catherine stopping in for a chat, Lydia stood in the kitchen making candy as if it were a normal evening. But if she and Travis were right, this would be far from a normal evening.

  Porter knew that Travis had released Lydia. Not wanting to rely on the rumor mill, Travis had paid him a casual visit and had mentioned both Lydia’s release and the story about turning evidence over to the judge.

  “He didn’t give any sign of being concerned,” Travis told Lydia as they walked home from the store. “If I didn’t know better, I would have believed him innocent.”

  “Do you think he is?”

  Travis shook his head. “No. Everything fits too neatly.” He looked around the kitchen, clearly worried about what might happen. “I only wish there were another way to prove it.”

  “I know you do, but there isn’t. I’ll be safe. You’ll be here.”

  He nodded. “And don’t forget the judge.”

  Lydia’s mood lightened as she thought of the plans Travis had made. “The judge who’ll just so happen to arrive a little early.”

  Travis grinned. “It helps that Herb was good friends with Uncle Jonas. He’s the one who warned me to be careful what I put in a telegram and who taught me how to hide a message inside one. Herb will be here within an hour. He knows to come in the back way, so no one will realize he’s arrived.”

  It had all gone as planned. While Lydia stirred a batch of fudge, the two men were seated inside the pantry where they could hear everything that was said in the kitchen.

/>   The door swung open, without so much as a knock to announce the visitor’s arrival.

  Lydia turned as if the sight of Porter Gray in her kitchen were normal. Though the man’s blue eyes shone with a disturbing light, she knew better than to admit she saw anything amiss. She needed to gain his confidence if the plan was going to work.

  “Good evening, Porter.” Lydia continued her stirring. “This fudge needs a few more minutes on the stove. Why don’t you sit down while I finish it?” Years of teaching had taught her the value of disarming an angry or violent child through distraction.

  But Porter was not so easily distracted. He took a step toward her, his posture menacing. “What evidence do you have? I know I didn’t leave any.”

  Mistake number one. He’d just admitted his guilt. Pretending she hadn’t noticed, Lydia gave the fudge a final stir. “There. Now all I have to do is spread it out to cool.” She opened a drawer and pulled out the red-handled knife she used for spreading candy. “Once that’s done, I can pour us both a cup of coffee. Do you want cream as well as sugar in yours?”

  “You’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

  Lydia shook her head. “I’m trying to be a good hostess. Now, why don’t you take a seat at the table? You’ll be more comfortable.”

  To her relief, Porter did as she’d suggested. Keeping one eye on him while she spread the fudge, Lydia continued, “Aunt Bertha always said visitors should be welcomed.” As she’d expected, Porter’s head jerked up at the mention of the murdered woman. Lydia gave no sign that she’d noticed his reaction. “She was a true lady. I don’t understand why anyone would have wanted to kill her.”

  If Lydia had calculated accurately, Porter would take the bait and give her a clue to his motive for poisoning his great-aunt. Travis had speculated that while Porter had tried to shift the blame to others, he harbored a need to brag about his exploits.

  “I should have been sheriff.” Porter practically snarled the words. Though they formed a complete English sentence, Lydia saw no connection between them and Aunt Bertha’s death. “I wanted to be sheriff.”