Love Almost Lost

by Irene B. Brand

  Ellen handed Lane the keys when they arrived in Daltonville, and she sat in the front seat beside him, leaving Fannie alone in the back. Ellen told him about Warren’s appearance and his suspicions, but she didn’t comment on Thompson’s behavior. “I wouldn’t be surprised that he doesn’t have us followed.”

  “Might be a good thing at that. The more I’ve thought about it, we may be making a dangerous move. We’re probably playing with fire.”

  “No, it’s a cobra, remember?”

  Eleven

  They were settled into Neal House on High Street by six o’clock, and, after having dinner with Fannie, Ellen said, “Lane and I are going out for a few hours. You’ll be all right here in the hotel.”

  “Ellen, you worry me to death. What are you up to? Tell me.”

  “I can’t tell you, and you’re better off if you don’t know. I’ll tell you this much—we may be in grave danger, so if we haven’t returned by morning, you should telephone Arrowwood and notify Marshal Warren.”

  Tears filled Fannie’s eyes, and Ellen placed her hand on Fannie’s thin shoulder. “Don’t worry; we’ll probably be all right, but you had to know if the worst happens.”

  Fannie reached in her pocket and brought out her rabbit’s foot. Laughing, Ellen said, “If you want to help, pray for our safety. Only God can give us protection tonight.”

  “It’s almost worth having you in danger to hear those words from your lips. You’ve been so cold spiritually, Ellen, and I’ve been concerned about you.”

  “God and I’ve been talking—with Him having the most to say. The coldness is gradually disappearing. Don’t give up on me yet.”

  Lane had learned the location of Big Bertha’s, and he hailed a taxi to take them there. Sitting in the cab as it hurried through Columbus’s busy streets, Ellen wondered if she would be alive when morning came. This might be a trap to kill her and a government agent at the same time.

  Lane took her hand and said quietly, “Since you were the one contacted, I suppose you should take the initiative in this meeting. I’ll be there for moral support.”

  “And I’ll need lots of it.” Lane lifted her hand and kissed its palm, easing her tension considerably. With his support, she could face any situation.

  The cab halted in front of a brick-fronted stone Victorian house surrounded by trees, at one time a palatial home, but now apparently a hangout for gangsters. When the cabbie received a generous tip from Lane, he said, “The entrance is at the side door. Do you want me to wait?”

  “We don’t know how long we’ll be inside. Come back in an hour, if you’re free then.”

  Lane held Ellen’s arm as they groped up the unlighted sidewalk. The doorway, protected by a small wooden awning, was marked with a dim light. When she knocked on the door, a small panel opened.

  “A cobra spits in your eye,” she said softly.

  “You were to come alone,” a gruff voice muttered.

  “Nothing was said about my being alone. We both stay, or we both leave.”

  “Who’s the sheik?”

  “Lane Dalton.”

  The panel slammed shut, and Ellen turned to Lane, a question in her eyes.

  “Let’s wait a bit,” he whispered.

  In about ten minutes, the door opened, and a shadowy figure motioned them into a murky hallway that led into an enormous room. Well-dressed couples sat around tables with drinks before them. Thick cigarette smoke obscured the faces of the customers, but no one paid any attention to Lane and Ellen as they paused on the threshold. Their guide motioned them to follow him into another room where throngs of people were gambling.

  The man indicated that they should climb the steps to the rear of the gambling room. “First door on the right,” he growled and left them.

  Walking slowly up the carpeted stairs, Ellen’s hand shook as she gripped the banister. At the top of the stairs, Lane drew her close for a moment and kissed her forehead. Drawing a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

  A pleasant male voice said, “Enter.”

  With an encouraging smile, Lane opened the door, and they walked into an elegantly furnished room. A tall, broadly built man with hooded blue eyes and a well-tanned complexion sat behind a desk. He stroked his miniature mustache and his teeth gleamed in a slight smile.

  “You’re Mrs. Timothy Hern?”

  Ellen nodded. “And who are you?”

  “Blacky Hollister. You’ve heard of me?”

  Ellen nodded again.

  “From your husband?”

  “No. Should he have told me something about you?”

  Hollister shrugged his shoulders. “Not necessarily.”

  “Why have you sent for me, Mr. Hollister? I don’t appreciate threatening notes. I’m sure we have nothing in common.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  “As I said, I don’t like to be threatened, and I want it stopped.”

  “That will be easy to do.”

  Ellen waited for him to continue.

  “You know anything about your late husband’s business?”

  “Since he died, I’ve learned some things that I don’t like. Nothing before then.”

  “He did some things that I didn’t like either. He tried to double-cross me on a few deals, and he happened to be in my debt when he died. I’d paid him for several hundred gallons of hooch that he hadn’t delivered. It’s still in your possession. I want it.”

  “It certainly isn’t in my possession.”

  “The hooch is stored in an underground room on your estate. My men can’t find the entrance.”

  Ellen’s heartbeat accelerated, knowing that she and Lane were on the brink of unraveling some of the mystery, but her legs were shaking so much she could hardly stand. Lane gently squeezed her shoulder.

  “Then you’re responsible for the breaking and entering at my house,” Ellen said.

  “I wouldn’t want to say.”

  “You will say. Were you in my house the night I arrived there?”

  “Don’t give me the third degree! You’ve got to hand over that liquor.”

  Ellen didn’t dare admit that she’d discovered the way into the tunnel, but experiencing the threat of those deadly black eyes, she knew Blacky Hollister would get what he considered his, one way or another. Waves of fear engulfed her body, and she wondered if her trembling legs could hold her erect any longer. Lane put his arm around her waist, and she took a deep breath.

  “What do you expect me to do? Since you’re obviously having someone watch Arrowwood, you must know that Marshal Warren is a frequent visitor. If you expect to find anything on my estate, you’ll have the United States government to reckon with.” She withheld the information that she had a deputy marshal living in her house.

  “It’s your job to look for the hooch, Mrs. Hern. You find it, turn it over to us, and you’ll have no more trouble from Blacky Hollister.”

  His hooded eyes seemed to hold her in a hypnotic stare, and she was reminded of the snake charmers in India. Hollister looked like a cobra!

  “I might not have any trouble from you, but I’d be in plenty of trouble with Marshal Warren. I’d just as soon take my chances with you as with the government.”

  She shuddered at his venomous glance, almost expecting to see fangs protrude from his mouth.

  “Suit yourself, Mrs. Hern.”

  “Aren’t you being unreasonable—expecting me to find something that your men can’t find, and threatening my life if I don’t find it?”

  “I’ll give you one week, Mrs. Hern.”

  Lane spoke for the first time. “And what if she can’t find the hooch?”

  “That’s her problem, Dalton, and you’d better stay out of it.”

  “Mrs. Hern’s problems are mine too.”

  Hollister favored Lane with a searching glance. “Watch your step, Dalton.” Hollister dismissed Lane with a contemptuous gesture. “One week, Mrs. Hern.”

  The idea that popped into her head seemed almost t
oo fantastic to work. She wished she had time to discuss it with Lane, but she knew Hollister expected an answer now.

  “I’m having a community party at Arrowwood the first night in August, and the guest list is open. You might be able to mix with the guests without being noticed by Warren. If I can locate the entrance to the tunnel by then, I can give you the information, and you can remove the liquor during the party. If I can’t find the room, then I’ll throw myself on your mercy.”

  A satanic smile spread across Hollister’s face, yet his voice was pleasant. “No mercy, Mrs. Hern. I’ll be at your party, but you might not recognize me, except for this.” He removed his glove and pointed to a tattoo on his left hand, a cobra with head drawn back, neck flattened ready to strike and release its deadly venom. He opened the door and motioned them to leave. Ellen shuddered when the door closed behind them, and Lane held tightly to her arm as they descended the stairs. As they silently crossed the gambling room, they came face-to-face with a couple entering from the bar.

  “Peaches!” someone shrieked, and Ellen looked into the face of Karen Kinzel. “What are you doing here?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Ellen commanded, hoping that the noise of the gamblers had muffled Karen’s words. “For your own good, you’d better gamble elsewhere and forget you saw me tonight.”

  “But. . . ,” Karen started, and Ellen grabbed her by the arm, pulling the girl to the outer door, with Lane and Karen’s date following. When the bouncer opened the door, Ellen hurried the group down the walk.

  Indignantly, Karen cried, “Well, Peaches, you do have your nerve. I’m not a child to be dragged around like this.”

  “Do you know this is one of Blacky Hollister’s hangouts?”

  Shrugging her shoulders, Karen said, “So what? I’m a big girl now. I’m not afraid of Hollister.”

  “Now you listen to me. A threat has been made on my life if I don’t play ball with Blacky Hollister. If he doesn’t get what he wants from me any other way, he might hold you for ransom. Get away from here as quickly as you can.”

  Karen’s date grabbed her hand. “Come on, Kiddo. She’s right. I didn’t know this was Hollister’s joint. Let’s move it.”

  A white-faced Karen threw one distressed glance in Ellen’s direction as her sheik hustled her down the sidewalk.

  “I wouldn’t give Hollister a dime for the other Herns, but I’m vulnerable where Karen is concerned, and he probably knows it.”

  “Let’s wait a few minutes to see if a cab comes by,” Lane said. “We shouldn’t talk here.”

  They soon hailed a passing cab that returned them quickly to their hotel. Lane drew Ellen toward a secluded corner of the lobby, where no one could be seated behind them, and where they could observe the rest of the lobby.

  “Did I do the right thing?” she asked in guarded tones. “I’m afraid of that man, but if he’ll let me alone, he’s welcome to that moonshine.”

  “I figure the liquor is gone. I think Thurman and his cronies have been shipping it to their customers.”

  “I wish Karen hadn’t shown up there tonight. If Hollister finds out she’s Timothy’s granddaughter, he might try to move in on her.”

  “He’s probably aware of it now. I doubt there’s much going on in this business that Hollister doesn’t know.”

  “Now what? Do I show him the secret passage?”

  “If you can send him to the underground room, I’ll have government agents ready to arrest him. It sounds almost too easy.”

  “It’s too risky. Hollister won’t be easily fooled. You might arrest him, but some of you may be killed in the melee.”

  “That’s a risk we have to take.”

  “Warren wants this party so he can look over the guests. He may recognize Hollister,” Ellen argued, terrified of the danger they faced.

  “And there will be big trouble if Warren tries to arrest Hollister at that party.”

  “I guess this is my punishment for marrying Timothy because he was rich. I should have found out how he made his money before I married him. If I could roll back time, I’d do many things differently.”

  Lane squeezed her hand. “Wouldn’t we all?” He lifted her from the couch and pulled her into a slight embrace. “I wouldn’t ask you to take this risk, but I want to clear up the trouble around Daltonville quickly so we can get on with our lives. And I pray that means a life together for us.”

  For a moment, a soft glow flowed through Ellen, and she wondered how she could be so blissfully happy when they were facing such peril. But, as always, when Lane held her in his arms, she believed anything was possible.

  “I hope so too,” she whispered, her lips close to his.

  “We’d better go to bed now. Try not to lie awake all night worrying. I have a feeling that things are going to work out well for a change.”

  Fannie was still awake when Ellen entered the room, and the older woman sighed deeply before she said in a petulant voice, “You’re back earlier than I expected, at that. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I can’t talk about it. If you want to help me, don’t ask questions. We may have a plan to clear up all of these problems at Arrowwood, and the less we talk about it the better. I could be in extreme danger if I tell what I know.”

  That comment silenced Fannie, and she prepared for bed without further questions.

  Warren came to Arrowwood the next morning after they returned home. He made no reference to their previous heated words, nor did he mention the trip to Columbus. Ellen thought he looked pointedly at her left hand for a ring, but as she still wore the wide band and large solitaire that Timothy had given her, he didn’t learn much. If he suspected that she and Lane had gotten married, he probably didn’t have them shadowed during their stay in Columbus.

  “Party plans in full swing?”

  “Yes, I’m throwing a big one—the best jazz band Columbus can provide, and the ballroom will be festively decorated by one of Cleveland’s ritziest firms. A full meal will be catered under tents set up on the lawn with chairs and tables. All of this to show how the local poor girl came home rolling in riches.” Her last words dripped with irony, and she turned from Warren. “Now that I know how Timothy made his money, I’m not enthusiastic about spending it.”

  “He made part of his money honestly enough—he didn’t start racketeering until a few years ago. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”

  “Have you uncovered any more clues about the problem here?”

  “I’m convinced that we’re working on two mysteries instead of one. There may be no connection between that mass murder over on the island and Hern’s death, but I believe the same people are involved. One of these days, somebody is going to talk, and we’ll have a breakthrough.” He gave her a fatherly pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry—we’ll soon have this cleared up.”

  “In the meantime, I feel like I’m walking on eggs.”

  “Then walk easy, Mrs. Hern, walk easy.”

  Ellen didn’t see Lane for two days after their return from Columbus, and when he did stop by Arrowwood, he asked, “How about a ride in a rowboat, for old times’ sake?”

  They left the house and headed for the river, and Ellen wondered if Thompson would follow them. He always seemed to disappear when Lane was around, but she suspected he was watching from some hidden spot.

  “Is this your old boat, Lane?” she asked as he helped her into the craft and took up the oars.

  “No, I borrowed this one. I don’t know what happened to mine.”

  As he moved away from the bank into the shallow channel, he said, “I thought if we were out paddling around in this thing, no one would be eavesdropping, and we do need to make plans. That party, and the appointment with Hollister, is only a few days away.”

  “What do you think we should do?”

  “I want you to show me the entrance to the tunnel so I can check the place out. Then while your guests are arriving, I’ll sneak my men down there. When Hol
lister shows up, you can direct him to the area, and we’ll nab him.”

  “That sounds too, too easy. Hollister won’t be arrested without bloodshed.”

  “You’re probably right, but I don’t have any better plan. We need to find the other end of the tunnel. When can you let me in the house?”

  “I don’t know how I can without Fannie or Thompson knowing.”

  “Unless we do it at night.”

  “I suppose I can persuade Fannie to go to her sister’s, then sneak you into the house after Thompson has gone to bed. Be sure you bring a strong light—that tunnel was dark even in daylight. If we’re going to do it, tonight is the best time because the decorators are coming tomorrow to prepare for the party, and I’ll be busy.”

  “Both of us shouldn’t go into the tunnel. If you’ll open the door to the entrance, I’ll explore alone.”

  “Your obvious intent is to protect me, but the plan may be all right at that. If you have trouble, I could at least be free to help you. What do you intend to do?”

  “I want to see what’s down there so I can plan where to hide my men. Also, I need to find the other entrance. Let’s hope no one is in the room.”

  Noticing a towboat coming down the river, Lane pulled toward a small creek and paddled into its shelter. Ellen drank in the comfort of his nearness, wishing they could leave Daltonville and all this trouble behind. After a nine-year drought of affection, they deserved a little happiness. But she knew Lane wouldn’t shirk his responsibility, and she intended to stick with him until this mystery was resolved.

  They watched silently as the waves from the stern-wheeler spawned small eddies around their vessel. Birds in the trees above them voiced noisy protests at this human intrusion into their sanctuary. In that peaceful place, Ellen could hardly believe that she and Lane were planning an incident that could easily be the death of both of them.

  As they returned to Arrowwood, Ellen said, “We’ll need to be quiet when you come tonight, so I’ll explain how that door operates. I work a combination on the phony thermostat, and the closet floor turns. You stand inside the closet and when the door halts briefly at the head of the stairs leading to the tunnel, you step off onto the ledge before the door turns again.”