by Jo Goodman
Tuck perched on the wide arm of an overstuffed chair. He took a swallow of his drink. “I’m inclined that it will go better if Bode learns we made an offer on Black Crowne from Mr. Bancroft. Bode’s not likely to be grateful for our interference. Mostly he’ll see us as the lesser of two evils. He might not accept what we’re offering. The man’s prideful.”
“I suppose we have to hope that doesn’t get in the way of his good sense. We don’t exactly employ men like Crocker when there’s a debt outstanding.”
“Maybe we should. Bram DeLong makes a powerful case for it. Or am I the only one tempted to go after the leg that’s not broken?”
“Thought about it myself, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Bode did.” Smiling narrowly, Tuck raised his drink in a mocking salute. “Do you suppose Bancroft might have told Crocker that he got a better offer? Try to sweeten the pot?”
“After we asked him to keep it confidential?” Newt snorted derisively. “Sure he might’ve. I always figured there was less honor among bankers than among thieves. There’d be plenty of folks that’d fail to make a distinction between the two.”
Tucker didn’t disagree. He glanced toward the window. Rain drummed steadily against the glass, streaking it like acid etchings. “What do you make of Comfort’s tin disappearing?”
“Don’t know. That’s a puzzle. It’ll probably turn up when she’s on her way to looking for something else.”
“I’ve been thinking that she did all right without it while she was with Bode, but did you notice this afternoon when he wasn’t around how she kept twisting it in her hands? I’m surprised she ever put it down, and I can’t recall that she’s ever misplaced it.”
Newt couldn’t remember that happening either. “Well, Bode’s with her. That should help if she gets all pins and needles about not having it.”
Tuck nodded. “So. Are we going to tell Bode or—” He stopped, his attention arrested by something he heard outside the window. He caught Newt’s eye. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
Tuck set his drink down and got to his feet. He motioned to Newt to stay where he was. He took his Walker Colt from the mantel on his way to the window. If someone was out there looking in, he wanted it known that he had a gun.
Newt inched forward on the sofa. He put his tumbler on the table and let his hand hover over his military revolver. “I hear thunder,” Newt said quietly.
“I hear it, too. This was different.” He approached the window from the side and tried to peer out. Most of what he could see at first was a reflection of the room. He stood perfectly still and tried to look beyond it. There was a disturbance in the rhododendrons. The rain beat the oblong, leathery leaves hard enough to make them scrape against the granite sill and the lowest panes of glass.
Tuck waited. The bush shifted suddenly; the leaves rattled against the side of the house like bony fingers. Tuck jumped back as the ginger kitchen cat leapt out of the bush and onto the sill. The tom let out a cry that alerted every feline on Nob Hill that he was on the prowl.
“Damnation!” Tuck lowered his gun. He tapped the window with the nose of the gun and startled the cat. “Serves you right,” he said when the cat hurtled off the sill and over the bush. “I could’ve shot you.”
Newt let his gun stay where it lay and picked up his drink. He didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t amused when Tucker turned around. “Seems like you’ve got another reason to want to kill that cat.”
Tucker merely grunted. He returned his gun to the mantel and took up his perch on the chair. He picked up his drink and knocked back what remained in the glass. “At least I know my hearing’s as sharp as it ever was.”
Newt chuckled softly, not caring whether Tuck heard him or not.
Comfort released Bode’s arm when they reached the top of the stairs and turned toward their bedroom. “I was thinking earlier today how nice it is to have all the men I love together. I hope it lasts longer this time.”
“Lasts longer? What do you mean?”
“It’s just that we were together in the conservatory and again at dinner, but afterward . . .” She waited for him to open the door and continued once he followed her inside. “Afterward everyone disappeared.”
Bode frowned. “We did?”
“Well, yes. You went back to your mother’s, and Newt and Tuck went . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t know where they went. To the bank, I suppose. They said it was business.”
“They didn’t mention it to me.”
“This is what comes of having secrets. The right hand doesn’t know what the left is doing.”
Bode went around to his side of the bed and snapped covers out of their disarray before he climbed in. “What is it that you think we’re keeping from you?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have to ask, now would I?”
Bode grinned at her. “You probably think that made sense.” He watched her mouth snap shut and appreciated the view as she gave him her back and carried the lamp into the dressing room. “You know I was teasing, don’t you?” He winced when the door shut hard behind her. Perhaps she didn’t know. “It isn’t a fully formed plan,” he called to her. “Nothing that involves the Rangers can be. We have different ideas about how to use them.”
Bode thought Comfort would have some comment about not using them at all, but there was only silence from the other side of the door. “Comfort?” He started to rise, but then the door opened and a shaft of light came from the dressing room. He propped himself on an elbow, waiting for her to step out. “You’re not really mad, are you?”
Comfort appeared in the doorway. She held the lamp in front of her with both hands as though she was preparing to serve it. The flame flickered, creating an ebb and flow to the tide of warm light bathing her face. It was only when she turned her head to the side that the man standing at her back was as clearly illuminated.
James R. Crocker pushed Comfort forward with the barrel of his gun. He watched Bode over her shoulder. When Bode threw off the bedclothes, Crocker shook his head.
“Stay where you are,” he rasped.
At the sound of his voice, Comfort felt her flesh prickle. Even with his weapon pressing against her spine, she’d been steady on her feet. These first words, though, made her knees go weak. She closed her eyes and concentrated on what he said, not how he said it, but when he cleared his throat, it was like fingernails scraping a slate, and she shivered.
“What are you doing here, Crocker?”
“Came to strike a deal with you,” he said hoarsely.
Bode had lots of questions, but the one at the top of his list he was able to answer for himself. Crocker hadn’t been found during the search because this bedroom was the one place no one had looked again. Neither he nor Comfort had considered that Crocker might have fled to the dressing room. They’d left him behind when they followed his damp tracks, and he stayed there until the search was over.
“We’re not discussing any deal while you’re using Comfort as a shield.” To Bode’s surprise, Crocker thrust his chin to the side and indicated that Comfort could step in that direction. She didn’t move immediately, but Bode knew better than to suppose she was hesitant. It spoke to her grit that she was still standing. She was trying to make certain her feet stayed under her.
“Don’t go far,” Crocker said.
Comfort went sideways, sliding more than stepping to achieve a foot and a half of separation from Crocker.
“That’s enough.” His gun showed clearly in the lamplight. He held it steadily, keeping it aimed just below Bode’s chest to account for the kick that would bring his hand up if he fired. “There are people back in Sacramento expecting me to return with your brother’s full payment. Like I told Bram, they’re not real particular about how I accomplish that.”
“They might change their mind if they knew that you arranged Comfort’s abduction. The lottery could make them think twice about using you again. I don’t know, of course, but perhaps it’s not the
sort of event they’d want to have associated with them.”
“You’re making a powerful leap there, Bode, since I don’t know anything about an abduction except what I read in the papers. This is the first I’m hearing about a lottery. The last time I saw Miss Kennedy—it’s still Miss Kennedy, isn’t it?” He looked from Bode to Comfort and back to the bed again. When neither of them spoke, he raised an eyebrow and shook his head as though disappointed in them. “Does your brother know you’re sleeping with his fiancée?”
Bode didn’t answer. Instead, he asked, “Can I sit up?”
Crocker cleared his throat and nodded.
Bode pushed himself to a sitting position but didn’t rest against the headboard. He was mostly clear of the bedcovers. He carefully pedaled his feet so the quilt shifted sideways. “Put the gun down, Crocker. I can’t believe there is any benefit to shooting me, and you lose every advantage if you hurt Comfort. If you mean to deal in good faith, then you should show some.” He waited, his gaze as steady as Crocker’s gun. He believed it was getting heavy enough for Crocker to consider lowering it.
Crocker brought the weapon down slowly. He didn’t tuck it behind him but kept it against his side so he could bring it up smoothly if he had to. “I’m here about the arrangement I had with Bancroft over at Federal.”
Bode didn’t blink. “Shouldn’t you take it up with him? For God’s sake, Crocker, it’s the middle of the night, and you’re talking like I’m supposed to understand what you mean. I don’t even know how you found me here.”
“I’ve been watching your office. Your mother hired me to find you. Sam Travers, too.”
“Sam? Really?”
He massaged his throat. “She seemed to think that if I found Travers, I’d find you. I finally caught sight of him this afternoon leaving your office with that Chinese girl who works here. Followed them to the bank and then went back to Black Crowne to see if you’d appear. Had to cool my heels for a while, but I’ll be damned if you didn’t step out of the building and head directly to your mama’s house. I know she was gone when you got there, but you spent so much time inside that I have to assume you spoke to your brother. I can only imagine what he told you, but I’m certain not a quarter of it was the truth. You surprised me by coming here when you left. Now that I’m seeing the lay of the land, so to speak, I’m beginning to understand a few things I didn’t before.”
“Have you spoken to Alexandra?”
“Didn’t see the need. You went back there. She knows you’re home. Where were you?”
“You never figured that out?”
“I confess I didn’t try very hard. I wasn’t nearly as concerned for your well-being as your mother was. She thought that little man that escorted me to the Demeter Queen had something to do with your disappearance.” The notion still amused him. He chuckled. “She doesn’t like him very much.”
Crocker’s eyes suddenly swiveled sideways. He crooked a finger at Comfort. “Over here,” he said. “Do you think I don’t know that you’ve been inching away?” He cleared his throat again. “Do you have any more lozenges? That tin on your night table was empty, same as mine.”
Comfort didn’t speak. She didn’t think she could. It was enough that she held the lamp steady. She answered him by shaking her head.
Crocker regarded her curiously. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Leave her alone, Crocker,” Bode said. “Talk to me.”
Crocker was in no hurry to comply. He studied Comfort for a long moment, stroking his beard, a small smile playing about his mouth. The narrow gap between his front teeth was visible. He turned back just as Bode was sliding one leg over the side of the bed. He used the gun to gesture him back.
“It’d be better if you stayed where you are while we discuss this,” he said.
“Then get to the point.”
“You’re the one with all the questions. Think about how much you want to get out of the bed before you ask another one.” He lowered the gun again. “I had an understanding with Bancroft that a certain group of men were willing to assume Black Crowne’s debt. Because of what’s happened, I have to believe that Bram told you about that.”
“What’s happened?”
“There’s been another offer.”
Bode’s brows lifted. “Another offer? Who?”
Crocker’s eyes narrowed. He ran his index finger down the slightly off-center line of his nose before he rubbed under his nostrils. He glanced at Comfort. “Is he lying? Keep in mind I heard what you were saying when you returned to the room.”
Comfort cast her mind to try to recall her conversation. She came up blank. She shrugged at Crocker.
“You told him Jones and Prescott left the house sometime after he did. Business, you said. Is that right?”
She nodded.
“Bank business.”
Bode drew Crocker’s attention back to him. “They didn’t tell her anything. That’s why she was upset.”
“Did you ask them to take over Black Crowne?”
“I did not.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then don’t ask. Is that what you’re telling me they did? They made an offer for my family’s business?”
“Exactly. Bancroft came to me, thinking he could squeeze more juice from the orange. I told him that’s not going to happen. You need to convince her uncles to take back their offer.”
“Why would you want me to do that? You’ll still get your money. I’ll be able to pay back what Bram owes.”
He laughed without humor. “That would have been good enough months ago. They’re all agreed that it’s too little, too late. They can realize a much greater return on his debt by selling off Black Crowne, and I admit, there’s something deeply satisfying about doing it this way. It can’t be helped that you and Alexandra will also suffer for it, but then you did very little to stop Bram from his excesses. You sent him to Sacramento, didn’t you?”
Bode nodded slowly.
“That’s what he said. I didn’t know if it was true. He managed to get himself into four kinds of trouble up there. The boy just doesn’t know when it’s time to step away from the table.” He raised the gun slightly. “Now, about Jones and Prescott. I’d be most appreciative of your help with my little problem there.”
“I’m sure you would, but why would I do anything for you?”
Crocker turned his gun on Comfort. “You wouldn’t,” he said. “But I think you would do it for her. And so will they. Am I wrong?”
“No.”
“Then let’s go downstairs. They’re still up, I believe. I never heard them in the hall.” He waved Comfort to step forward and go around him, and then he pointed at Bode and told him to do the same. “Be very careful, Bode. I have friends waiting for me. Men who know something about taking orders.” He glanced at the clock. “I really should let them know I’m all right. Otherwise they’ll storm the gates. These men don’t take prisoners.”
Bode came around the foot of the bed. “If they take orders, I can assume they’re not Rangers. I guess you learned your lesson there.”
Crocker ignored that. “Go on. Through the door, down the stairs. I believe they’ll be in the front parlor. I know where it is, so don’t think you can lead me somewhere else.”
“Allow Comfort to put on her robe. She’s cold. You can see that she’s shivering.”
“She’s not cold. She’s scared.” He looked Bode over, trying to gauge how far he could trust him. Comfort’s fear gave him confidence. “Go on, get her robe. Make it fast.”
Bode hurried into the dressing room. He stepped into a pair of trousers, hastily tucked in the tails of his nightshirt, and grabbed Comfort’s robe. He reappeared in less than half a minute, but he could see that Crocker was impatient with the delay. He held up the robe. “Let me take the lamp,” he told Comfort.
Crocker shook his head. “No. Just put the robe around her. I want her to hold the lamp.”
Bode did as he was directed, taking t
he opportunity to squeeze Comfort’s shoulders as he settled the robe on her. He wanted to reassure her in other ways, touch his lips to her temple, whisper in her ear, but Crocker was already gesturing with the gun and Bode didn’t want to tempt him to aim it at Comfort again.
“The two of you walk in front of me,” Crocker told them. “Go on.”
They startled the cat when they stepped into the hallway. Thistle wound in and out of Comfort’s legs, meowing softly in anticipation of being scooped up. When he wasn’t, he threw himself in front of her and rolled on his back. Afraid that Crocker would kick Thistle out of the way, Comfort nudged him along with her toe until he got up suddenly and all but flew down the stairs.
“I hate cats,” Crocker said under his breath. “Keep it out of my way.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Bode said. “He doesn’t care for you either.” Bode thought he might feel the barrel of Crocker’s gun shoved hard against his back, even hoped that would be the outcome, but Crocker wisely kept his distance on the stairs.
When they reached the entrance hall, Crocker told Comfort to remain at his side and gestured to Bode to open the front door. Bode blinked against the flash of lightning that rent the night sky. He stepped up to the threshold. Raindrops as sharp as needles glanced off his face and shoulders.
“There’s no one here,” he said.
“Give them a moment.”
Bode put out a foot to halt the entry of a wet ball of orange fur that might have been a cat. Frustrated, the cat yowled. His cry brought Thistle running. Bode grabbed Comfort’s cat before he pounced and slammed the door shut on the other animal. This set up another round of piercing cries. Thistle’s claws dug into Bode’s shoulder.
“What the hell?” Tucker peered down the long hall from outside the study. “Bode. Leave the cat be. He doesn’t like to go out. Send him here.”
It took Bode a moment to understand that Tucker couldn’t see Comfort and Crocker. They were hidden from view by the angle of the staircase. It didn’t appear that Tucker had armed himself. And why would he? He’d come out to see about the cat.
