Love Almost Lost

by Irene B. Brand

  “Stop arguing,” Hollister said harshly. “We’ve got to move. With Hern’s death, I think we gave Warren enough to do, but I don’t want to take any chances. How do you open this door?”

  Ellen knew she had no choice, so she activated the combination and let Thompson pull her onto the turntable. How was she going to warn Lane that she was with the gangsters? If he opened fire on them, she would be in danger.

  When darkness closed around them, Thompson pulled a large flash from his pocket and inspected the staircase.

  “Hollister,” Ellen said in her natural tones, hoping that her voice was loud enough to carry to Lane. “I thought you would keep your word—you promised I’d come to no harm if I cooperated with you.”

  “Lowden’s not going to hurt you.”

  She turned on Thompson. “What did he call you? What’s your real name?”

  “Never mind,” he said with a scowl. “Chief, I wish you’d watch your tongue.”

  They were going downstairs rapidly, perhaps too rapidly for Lane and his men to cope with the knowledge that she was with them. Ellen deliberately stumbled and crumpled to the steps with a scream. Hollister cuffed her on the face. “Shut up, woman. We don’t want to advertise where we are.”

  “I’ve hurt my ankle,” she said, and indeed, she did feel a pain in her leg, for she hadn’t had time to give any thought to her safety when she’d decided to fall.

  Thompson jerked her upright. “Come on.”

  Ellen limped slowly down the stairs until they came into the room. No sound greeted them, and as Hollister flashed the light around the room, Ellen saw it was empty. A fire was lighted under the still, and liquor gurgled in the copper coil.

  “Somebody’s brewing here right now,” Thompson said, scowling as he looked around the room, “but there’s no stored liquor.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Hollister demanded.

  “I didn’t spend much time down here.”

  Hollister was livid with anger. “What’s happened to the liquor?” He turned angrily toward Thompson. “You were supposed to watch things, Lowden, but you’ve been a false alarm from the first.”

  “Watch it, Hollister! No man talks to me like that.”

  “We’ll settle this later. Let’s get out of here. Bring the dame or knock her on the head; I don’t care which.”

  “Why don’t we go back through the house?” Thompson said.

  “Too risky. My men are waiting by the creek. Somebody’s going to pay for this double-cross.”

  Where is Lane? Ellen stumbled along behind the two men as they rapidly walked through the tunnel. Suddenly Hollister stopped and flashed his light on the floor. Several sets of wet footprints showed clearly. He whirled on Ellen. “Have you set up a trap for us?”

  Ellen tried to remain calm while fighting desperately for her life. “You don’t think I’ve been running the still, do you? If Timothy ran this bootlegging operation, he must have had someone doing the work here. They’ve probably sold the liquor you thought was yours. I didn’t even know how to get down here until a few days ago.”

  “She didn’t say anything to Warren because I’m sure he’d have told me, but I can’t help wondering where Dalton is. He didn’t show up at the party.”

  “Where is Dalton?” Hollister demanded.

  “Leave me alone, Hollister,” Ellen shouted, fervently wishing she did know where Lane had gone. Had he tangled with Thurman and Henderson, and was he wounded or dead? Concern for Lane made her impervious to her own danger.

  The tunnel soon ended in a few feet of water, and Hollister snapped, “I tell you we’ve been tricked.” He swung on Ellen again. “If we have been played false, don’t think you’ll come out of this alive.” He threw back the lapel of his coat and drew out a derringer.

  Shaking inside, but still trying to control her voice, she said, “Look ahead of you. We’re almost to the door, but you’ll have to wade through the water to open it.”

  He flashed his light forward and said tersely, “How do you know that? I thought you hadn’t spent any time in the tunnel.”

  “I haven’t been here, but the fact is obvious.”

  Hollister motioned with his flashlight. “Go on.”

  Ellen flashed him a questioning glance.

  “Go on and open the door. You go through first, and we’ll follow you.”

  Good-bye, shoes, Ellen thought as she stepped into the water and waded toward the door. The water came to her waist before she reached the barrier, and her dress tightened around her legs. Ellen saw the small wedge that kept the door from closing completely. She pushed at the bar on the door, but it didn’t move.

  “What’s the matter? Can’t you open it?”

  “No, Hollister, I can’t. You or Thompson will have to help me.” She spoke loudly, hoping that if Lane and his men were waiting in the boathouse, they’d know who was with her.

  “Help her, Lowden, but see that she steps through the door first.”

  Lowden! Where have I heard that name?

  Thompson splashed through the water, shoved on the handle, and the panel moved aside. He motioned for Ellen to climb the short flight of concrete steps. She stumbled into the darkness of the boathouse, but a hand touched hers and drew her aside.

  She couldn’t see, but she knew it must be Lane.

  “See anything?” Thompson called quietly.

  “It’s dark out here. I can’t see at all,” she answered as she was drawn slowly away from the door. Sliding around the wall, she heard Lane’s whisper, “Go to the house, and tell Warren what’s going on.” He thrust a flashlight into her hand.

  “Mrs. Hern, take this light and look around,” Thompson called as Ellen pulled up her skirts, kicked off her high-heeled pumps, and ran away from the boathouse. An exchange of gunfire echoed along the riverfront. The fast run uphill made her gasp for breath.

  Thirteen

  The tables under the tents were empty, but large numbers of people had crowded into the ballroom and hallway. An ambulance stood at the portico, and she remembered Thompson’s statement that Bruce had been shot. People stared at her as she rushed into the house, and she decided she did present quite a spectacle with clothes wet to her waist and probably a black eye where Hollister had hit her.

  Karen burst from the crowd. “Peaches, what’s happened to you? Do you know that Uncle Bruce has been wounded?”

  “I need to see John Warren. Where is he?”

  Warren appeared by her side, and Ellen motioned him to the living room. She closed the door. Gunfire at the creek had increased now until it sounded like a full-scale battle was in progress. The house reverberated with screams from her frightened guests, and Karen pounded on the door and entered.

  “Peaches, what’s going on?”

  “Karen, get out of here. I have to talk to Mr. Warren.”

  “I’m going down to the river and see for myself.”

  “No, Karen, it’s too dangerous. Stay in the house.” But Karen slammed the door behind her, and Ellen turned to Warren.

  “Lane and some other federal agents have Blacky Hollister and Thompson, who incidentally is one of Hollister’s gang, surrounded in the boathouse. Lane sent me to bring you, and I think our quickest way is to go through the tunnel.”

  “Tunnel?”

  “Yes, I know where it is. If we go that way, we can force Hollister and Thompson from the tunnel if they haven’t come out yet.”

  “Have you been holding out on me?” His face mirrored the rage he was experiencing.

  “We don’t have any time to lose!”

  “Come with me,” Warren said. He stepped into the hall and called out the names of a half-dozen men. “Go down the hill to the boathouse on the creek.”

  Ellen ran upstairs with Warren at her heels, explaining as she went how the revolving door worked. Ellen grabbed a flashlight from her room and in a couple of minutes, they stood on the landing leading to the underground room.

  “Is Hollister still in the
tunnel?”

  “I don’t know. He came to get some liquor that he said Timothy owed him. He brought some men with him, and they were waiting down by the creek. Lane and his men were to be in the room and nab Hollister, but Hollister and Thompson made me go with them, and when we got there the room was empty. I don’t know why Lane wasn’t there, but he was in the boathouse when Hollister forced me to open the door.”

  Warren’s voice shook with anger. “I’ve a notion to jail you and Dalton both.”

  “On what grounds? This is a bootlegging deal, and Lane has as much authority as you do. Besides, if I’d blabbed everything I knew to Thompson, we would all have been in trouble.”

  Warren turned his back on Ellen. “Stay behind me and keep quiet.”

  Warren eased open the door and dodged into the room. Ellen waited until Warren whispered, “Come on. The room is empty.”

  Just as Ellen joined him, movement sounded in the tunnel, and Warren flicked off the light and plunged the room into darkness.

  “Don’t shoot,” Ellen begged, “until you know who it is. It could be Lane.”

  “Lie down on the floor,” Warren whispered. Ellen flattened on the cold clay as Warren moved away from her.

  Running steps came closer, and Hollister entered the room, the beams of his flashlight flickering on the walls. He looked like a trapped animal as he plunged into sight, and when Warren called, “Hollister,” the gangster fired rapidly at the sound. Warren opened fire and Hollister dropped to the floor.

  Ellen jumped to her feet. “Let’s see what’s happening outside,” and she rushed down the tunnel into Lane’s arms.

  “I heard the gunfire. What happened?” Lane shouted.

  “I shot Hollister,” Warren said.

  “Then that about clears it up. We have a lot of wounded people outside, Warren, and a few prisoners who should be able to clear up the mystery of Arrowwood.”

  “What about Thompson?” Warren asked.

  “Badly wounded but still alive. Tonight is the first time I’ve seen him all summer,” Lane said.

  “Hollister kept calling him Lowden,” Ellen commented.

  “Lowden! That was the name of my mother’s brother.”

  “That’s who he is then!” Ellen shouted. “I told you when we looked at your parents’ wedding picture that your uncle seemed familiar.”

  “But Adam Lowden had black hair—this man is redheaded.”

  “He dyes his hair. I noticed that the first time I saw him.”

  “Looks like you learned a lot you kept from me,” Warren said.

  “After all, Mr. Warren, you’re supposed to be the law officer. Did you need a woman to solve the case for you?”

  Warren turned on his heel. “All right, rub it in. I suppose I should thank you for your help.”

  “As a matter of fact, I didn’t think it was of any importance, or I would have mentioned it.” After they started toward the boathouse, she added, “And I was afraid to tell you about Hollister.”

  Thompson sat on the ground, leaning against a tree, his chest covered with blood when they reached him. Lane looked at him closely.

  “So you didn’t die in Montana?”

  He grinned wryly. “Nope. And it’s been a problem keeping out of your way this summer. Too bad you came back the same time I did.” His eyes glazed, and his head fell on his chest.

  “Let’s get this guy to the hospital,” Warren said. “I want him to talk before he dies.” He looked at Ellen. “And, young lady, it’s time you went to bed. Dalton, take her to the house and send all the able-bodied men to help carry these guys out of here. This place looks like a battleground.”

  Women and children were left to get home the best way they could while the men swarmed to the creek bank. Day-light saw the last of the wounded being hauled away from Arrowwood. With Lane’s promise to come back as soon as he could, Ellen finally went to bed. She didn’t awaken until late afternoon when Lane entered the bedroom with Fannie behind him.

  Fannie brought Ellen’s robe, and she put it on but remained in the bed. Though she must have been curious, Fannie left them alone. Lane drew up a chair and sighed wearily.

  “It’s time you had some rest,” Ellen said.

  “As soon as I tell you everything, I’m heading back to Daltonville, and I intend to sleep for hours.”

  “Why weren’t you in that room last night as we’d planned?”

  “We settled down in there at seven o’clock, and about fifteen minutes later we heard Henderson and Thurman coming in from the creek. They had apparently decided that the party gave them a good excuse to make some more liquor. I was glad to catch them in the act, so we arrested them. We couldn’t have them in there when Hollister and his men came, so we took them outside and tied them to trees.

  “When we started back into the tunnel, we heard the three of you coming downstairs. I didn’t want any shooting with you there, so we backed out, hoping they’d come out through the boathouse. Every move you made, we were just ahead of you. That’s the reason Hollister saw those wet footprints.”

  “I kept talking loudly so you would know who was with me and what we were doing.”

  “That helped too. When you finally got away, we opened fire on Thompson. About that time, Hollister’s men showed up, and we had a terrible battle for several minutes. Hollister dodged back into the tunnel, and I didn’t know what to do about him. It was quick thinking on your part to bring Warren from that direction.”

  “Have you found out what’s been going on all summer?”

  “It’s a long story and a big mix-up.”

  “Who killed Timothy? Let’s start with that.”

  “Timothy worked with Thurman, Ercell, and Henderson. They made the liquor—he marketed it. Hollister had been after Ercell to throw in with them. Hollister had someone knock Timothy on the head and throw him in the back of the car, and he told Ercell to dump his body in the river. But they didn’t trust Ercell, so when the car came to that hill, one of Hollister’s men shot out a tire and the wreck occurred. Thompson didn’t know who killed Hern, but Hollister was responsible.”

  “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.”

  “Bruce had been the contact between his father and Hollister, and Bruce was the one who did the double-crossing, not Timothy. Hollister didn’t know that until after Timothy’s death. That’s when he started in on Bruce.”

  “How did Thompson, or Lowden, fit into this?”

  “Lowden killed Marshal Harold Thompson, took his papers, and started impersonating a marshal. Lowden confessed before he died that he killed the Pinkerton detective whom your dad was imprisoned for killing, and he and Sid Pauley’s father also killed the Italian workers in 1912 and buried them on the island. Sid saw what they did, but he kept it a secret, not wanting to implicate his own father. When Lowden knew that Sid had recognized him, he had to put Pauley out of the way.”

  “And to think how I trusted that man this summer! Was it Thompson who was breaking in the house?”

  “No. Henderson admitted that they’d been entering the tunnel through the house, but when you moved in, they couldn’t gain access. When they burned the garage that night, Henderson slipped in and got the outside entrance opened so they could enter the room from the boathouse. Thompson was looking for the tunnel, but he never found it.”

  “Then Henderson must have been in the house the night I came to Arrowwood.”

  “That’s right. They thought they’d hit a bonanza. With Hern out of the way, Thurman and Henderson made the booze and sold it themselves. Thurman knew Timothy’s death was suspicious, but he was afraid too much publicity would be bad for their moonshining, so he didn’t make an investigation. Your moving back here threw them into a frenzy, but Thurman was familiar with Deerslayer’s curse, and he knew how superstitious Fannie was. He thought if they stirred up that legend, it might scare you away.”

  “So Thurman and Henderson were the ones impersonating Deerslayer?”

  “Yes. Th
ey were moving liquor out of the creek the night they chased Karen and her friends off the riverbank, but Warren couldn’t make anyone admit that they had anything to do with your accident. He wanted to clamp an attempted-murder charge on someone for that.”

  “I prefer to believe it was an accident rather than to think someone deliberately tried to kill me.” She looked out the window, suppressing an involuntary shudder to think how nearly she had been killed that day. “But who notified the marshals about Timothy’s murder?”

  “My guess is Sid Pauley.”

  “Is Warren red-faced that he made such a mistake with Thompson?”

  “Somewhat, I think, but he says he was getting suspicious of the guy. The day of your party, Warren received information that the body of the real Harold Thompson had been recovered from a hidden grave in Illinois.”

  The door opened, and Karen breezed in without an invitation. “We’re off, Peaches, and I suppose you think ‘good riddance.’ ”

  “You’re always welcome at my home, Karen.”

  “Maybe, but an overdose of the Kinzels can be too much. I’ve loaded Mother and Henry into Uncle Bruce’s car, and my sheik will drive my jalopy. I’m going to take Mother home and tell her to stay there and behave herself. Uncle Bruce should recover, and we’ll see that he returns to Cleveland when he gets out of the hospital. When are you coming home, Peaches?”

  “I don’t know, Karen. I may stay at Arrowwood.”

  Karen cast a speculative glance in Lane’s direction, gave Ellen a hasty kiss, and said, “Peaches, for a grandmother, you’re the cat’s meow.”

  Holding Lane’s hand, Ellen listened silently until she heard the two cars drive away. Annie and the maid intended to depart tomorrow, leaving only Fannie and Bentley for company. It would seem quiet after all the excitement.

  Following a discreet knock on the door, Fannie stuck her head in the door. “Reverend Truett just telephoned. He wanted to ask about you, and he wanted to know if you doubted his words now.”

  Ellen laughed as Fannie closed the door. “He told me soon after I returned to Daltonville that evil can seem very strong, but that God is the ultimate Ruler of the universe. I believe that now; otherwise, we would never have come through this trouble.” Squeezing Lane’s hand, she said, “Is it finally over?”