by Robin Deeter
Cy praised Burt, slipped the button into his pocket, and followed Carly again. She stopped and indicated a room on the right side of the hall. As Carly and Cy entered the room, the two guards stood up from where they’d been sitting.
“Gentlemen, this is Detective Decker and he’s going to interview you about last night,” Carly said firmly.
Dane Lynch said, “I know who he is.”
Cy didn’t react to the big, blockish man’s disdain. Instead, he took in Dane’s blackened right eye and split lip.
“Mr. Lynch, Mr. Sykes, I expect you to cooperate fully with Mr. Decker,” Carly said. “This isn’t a contest of wills, it’s an investigation.”
Cy applauded Carly’s aplomb in keeping the men in line. It wasn’t something that many thirty-two-year-old female mayors would have been able to do. However, Carly had learned how to wield power well from her grandfather, Clinton Branson. She’d worked hard for Clint before he’d passed, gaining a reputation for being fair, but she was no pushover. Clint’s high praise for his granddaughter while he’d been living had been one of the main reasons that Carly had won the special election that had followed his death.
Eli Sykes nodded respectfully. “Yes, Miss Branson.”
He sported a nasty bruise on his forehead that Cy guessed had come from the butt of a gun. Cy liked Eli, who was about the same age as him. Eli’s easy-going manner and boyish good looks made him popular with people.
Dane said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Cy took out his notepad as Carly said, “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in my office, Cyrus.”
He nodded and sat in a chair, motioning for the other two men to do the same.
“So you were both on duty last night?” he asked.
Dane nodded. “Right. I was out back and Eli was watching the front.”
“Were the doors locked?”
“Of course they were,” Dane said. “We’re not idiots.”
Cy’s lips formed a small smile, and Dane bristled.
“Look, Decker, I don’t need your condescending attitude,” he said.
“Did either of you see your attacker?” Cy asked as though Dane hadn’t spoken.
Eli said, “No. I heard something in the bushes and when I went to check it out, they hit me from behind. I never heard them approach me.”
“Same here,” Dane said.
“Did they take your keys?” Cy asked.
Eli’s mouth dropped open and he started going through his pockets, sagging with relief when he came up with his keyring. He made sure all of his keys were accounted for.
“I have mine,” Dane said. “They picked the locks.”
“Not necessarily,” Cy disagreed. “They could have just used your keys and put them back in your pocket. They’d only need to unlock one door. When you came to, did you have to unlock the doors to get in?”
“No,” Eli replied. “The front door was open a crack.”
Cy looked at Dane, waiting for an answer.
Dane said, “I had to let myself in.”
“And when you came into the house, did you see anyone outside of the family or the servants?”
“No,” Eli said. “I came in and heard Dane calling me. We met in the foyer and ran upstairs to check on everyone and alert them to what had happened. Miss Branson and her father started checking the safes and other places. I ran to the sheriff’s office and told Wheezer about the break-in.”
Cy smiled as he thought about Tyrone Davison, aka, Wheezer. The older black man had been given the nickname for his odd laugh and it was all anyone called him now. He and Aaron Howard were the nighttime deputies in Chance City.
“Ok. Don’t leave town, boys,” Cy said.
Dane’s fists clenched. “Are you accusing us of being involved?”
Burt took offense to his threatening tone and angry movements. His ears flattened and a low growl rumbled in his chest. Dane stared at him.
“You better keep that mangy mutt away from me,” he said.
Burt bared his teeth and growled louder. Cy gave him a hand signal and Burt quieted. His amber eyes never left Dane, however. Cy rose and tapped his left thigh, signaling the dogs to heel.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said, leaving the room.
Chapter 8
It was early afternoon before Cy finished up all of his interviews and headed for his office. He went around the back way to the fenced in yard, not wanting to talk to anyone until he’d organized his evidence and had some time to process everything. He let the dogs into the yard and shut the gate.
Opening the door to his shed, he stepped inside, leaving the door open for ventilation. He opened the window and sat the various pictures and documents on his desk before taking off his hat and hanging it on a nail. Taking out a container of tacks from a desk drawer, he stuck the pictures up on the walls.
He’d gotten the photographs of their collections of jewelry from Carly. The Bransons had had them taken for insurance purposes and they hadn’t minded giving Cy copies of them. Cy had concluded that it was either an inside job or someone close to one of the employees. He’d warned all of the employees not to leave town or he’d sick a bounty hunter on them.
Now he just had to figure out which employee’s story didn’t hold up. He’d gotten a list of the employees’ addresses who didn’t live at the mayor’s estate and planned on interviewing their neighbors and other acquaintances. It would be time consuming, but it was necessary.
He would split the job with Ellie since she was good at ferreting out information from people. Her questions might sound innocent or merely social, but she was a shrewd woman and knew when someone was trying to hide something.
Sitting down at his desk, he took out a large tablet and began drawing, freeing his mind to roam while he sketched a picture. Doing so allowed him to think about the investigation subconsciously while occupying his brain with something else. Sometimes he ended up drawing something related to the crime and sometimes not.
As his mind sifted through all of the information he’d collected from the interviews, he also wondered how Leigh and company was making out with the trench digging. His pencil created a pretty feminine nose and soon, Leigh’s face began taking shape on the paper. A sweet smile curved her full lips and tendrils of hair attractively framed her beautiful, heart-shaped face.
Cy felt a tug of desire as he remembered kissing those luscious, lemonade-laced lips last night. His fingers remembered the silkiness of her skin as they’d skimmed over her thigh. Cy mentally shook himself, turning his thoughts back to the crime he was investigating.
The Bransons employed eleven servants. Although it seemed impossible that he could figure out which person was responsible for the theft, Cy knew how to weed out the guilty from the innocent.
From the large amount of jewelry that had been taken, Cy thought that there was something else the thieves had been after and they’d only taken the jewelry as a cover. The pieces were so distinctive that the robbers would have to be idiotic to try selling them anywhere around Chance City or even in Oklahoma.
Cy had telegrammed several sheriffs in the state about the crime and he’d given descriptions to Ellie, who was in the process of distributing flyers to the various jewelry and pawn shops in Chance City. In the morning, she would go to Woodward to do the same thing.
However, Cy had a hunch that those jewels wouldn’t show up for quite some time—not in their original form, anyway. Eventually, whoever had stolen them would most likely take the stones out of their settings and sell them individually. He’d instructed Carly to go through their business papers to make sure that nothing was missing. His investigator’s nose wouldn’t let go of the idea that there was something more valuable at stake than a mere robbery.
Flipping the page on the tablet over, he began brainstorming, writing down other questions that came to mind. He’d set up an appointment for later that afternoon so he could interview the entire family at once. He’d be able to tell whether they’d rehearsed t
heir stories together based on how they reacted to one another when questioned.
Then, the following day, he would get each of them alone and see if he could catch any of them in a lie. When he investigated, he never assumed that anyone was innocent. His stomach rumbled and he decided to go get something to eat at his other favorite bar that served an excellent lunch. He said goodbye to the dogs, promising to bring them something back to eat, too.
* * *
The Chowhound Saloon had a big reputation for great food and entertainment. Its unconventional proprietor, Sandy Hopper, ran a tight ship while having fun at the same time. She was known for her wacky sense of humor and kind heart. Although she openly propositioned the male clientele, it was done in good fun. Her companion, Jim Haskell, kept her plenty busy in the romance department.
Cy sniffed the air inside the establishment appreciatively when he entered it. The aroma of beef stew and fresh bread reached his sensitive nose and his stomach growled.
“Well, there you are!” Sandy called out from behind the bar as Cy approached it.
“Yep. Here I am,” Cy said. “How are you?”
Sandy’s brown eyes twinkled. “Okay, but I’d be better if you’d give me a toss.”
Cy laughed at her wicked reply, having expected no less from her. “Well, I would, but I’m gonna be getting married soon, and I don’t think my gal would like that too much.”
Sandy braced her arms on the bar and gave him a dubious look. “Married? What do you want to do that for?”
“To save my ranch,” Cy said.
Curiosity jumped into her brown eyes. “Sounds like there’s quite a story there. Out with it.”
Cy told her the situation and when he was done, Sandy laughed.
“So old Rob got you, huh? I’m sorry about your troubles, though. Is she pretty? Good in bed?” Sandy asked brushing her short bangs from her forehead. Unlike most women, she preferred a close-cropped hairstyle.
Her mode of dress raised eyebrows as much as her boisterous, unladylike behavior. She wore men’s trousers and shirts and a gun belt. Her regular patrons knew not to arouse her anger because she wasn’t hesitant about drawing a bead on someone and bringing them down if necessary.
“She’s beautiful, but I’m not gonna find out the answer to that last question until after the wedding.”
Sandy rolled her eyes. “You should sample the goods before you buy them, Cy.”
Cy refused the beer she offered him. “I would, but she’s not that kind of woman.”
“That means that she’s not fun like me,” Sandy responded with a wink. “You’re not married yet and I have a room free at the moment.” She nodded her head towards a door to the left that led to some private back rooms.
Cy shook his head. “You know that I’m officially law enforcement now, right?”
Sandy said, “You ain’t gonna arrest me. I provide a valuable service to the community and I keep things quiet. When was the last time anyone complained about me?”
She had him there. The Chowhound was a place of controlled rowdiness and many of the city’s council members frequented the establishment. Cy himself had partaken of the services offered discreetly within its walls, so he would have been a hypocrite to judge others. Although, now that Leigh was there, he planned to honor his commitment to her, unlike some men.
“I haven’t heard anyone lodge any complaints and as long as it stays that way, I’ll look the other way. Besides, if I brought any charges against you, I’d have a lot of powerful people on my back. I know how to choose my battles,” Cy said.
Sandy reached over the bar and patted his cheek. “Smart and handsome. Now, how about some lunch?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Cy said. “Beef stew and bread, right?”
“That nose of yours always amazes me,” Sandy said. “Coming right up.”
She went back to the kitchen and Cy chuckled over her outrageous behavior. In a few minutes, she came back with his food.
“So when are those cousins of yours gonna come see me? Soon, I hope, preferably wearing those skimpy outfits,” she said.
In between bites, Cy said, “I’ll tell them that you’re summoning them.”
She nodded. “Do that. Only this time, they better keep those big mouths of theirs shut a little more.”
He sent her a sardonic glance. “You know that’s impossible. I’ve talked and talked to them about it, but it doesn’t do any good.”
“It’s so hard to believe about Sly because he’s usually so quiet. I wonder if he’s that quiet in bed,” she said.
Cy almost choked on a bite of bread. “You’ll have to ask him,” he said hoarsely.
Sandy’s infectious laugh rang out over his discomfort. “I have asked him, but he just smiles. He doesn’t sleep with any of my girls so I can’t even ask them.”
Cy grinned because he knew exactly who Sly was sleeping with, but he wasn’t about to reveal that bit of information. “Well, keep asking him and maybe someday he’ll tell you.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” Sandy said. “You could have your reception here, if you wanted.”
Cy almost choked again. “I don’t think my bride would appreciate us holding our reception in a brothel. Besides, Benny already offered and he doesn’t have your sort of attractions.”
“You tell Benny that he can kiss my backside,” Sandy said, but there was no bite to her words. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll shut the other stuff down that day.”
Sandy was very fond of Cy and his family. In her younger years, she and Cy’s father had been an item. He’d wanted to get married, and Sandy had sworn off marriage. Cy’s pa hadn’t cottoned to living in sin, though. Then he’d met Cy’s mother and fallen in love. Even so, Sandy and Cy’s father had remained friends and that friendship had extended to the rest of the Deckers.
“I appreciate it, Sandy,” Cy said.
“You bet. Ready for more?”
Cy handed his empty bowl and plate to her and she went to fetch his second helping.
* * *
Daphne watched Leigh sit down stiffly at the kitchen table for supper that night after washing up. Johnny wasn’t in much better shape. Both of their faces were sunburned and their joints and muscles ached from all of the digging they’d done. Sly had been as good as his word and had brought his horses and equipment. Daniel and their father, David, had accompanied them.
Leigh had pitched in and done as much work as the men had, for which they’d complimented her. She was glad that they approved of her. It was important to her that Cy’s family thought well of her so that Cy didn’t regret choosing her for his wife.
Daphne had invited her relatives to stay for supper, but they declined, preferring to go home and clean up before eating.
“You two look done in,” she remarked, placing bowls of food on the table.
“That obvious, huh?” Leigh asked.
Her stomach felt as hollow as if she hadn’t eaten for weeks as she looked at the platter of fried pork chops. Scalloped potatoes, peas, homemade bread and apple butter rounded out the meal. As soon as Daphne sat down, Johnny said a hasty prayer and started passing food.
They heard dogs bark and Queenie woofed in response.
“Cy’s home,” Daphne said.
Johnny reached behind him, opening the door so that the dogs could get in. Queenie ran out to greet her new doggie family and canine roughhousing ensued. It wasn’t long before Cy strode to the house from the barn, the dogs following him inside.
“Hi, everybody,” he said, going to the sink to wash up.
“Hello,” Leigh said.
Cy looked from her to Johnny. “Looks like you two got some sun today. I hope you didn’t overdo it, Leigh. You’re not used to how hot it gets here. I don’t want you having heat stroke.”
Leigh appreciated his concern, but she didn’t want him thinking that she was weak. She also wished that she’d taken the time to change. She’d washed up, but she hadn’t bothered to
change her clothes yet, and she was sure she looked a mess. It was important to her that Cy found her attractive. Of course, given the way he’d acted the previous night out on the porch, it appeared that he did.
Cy took his place at the table, and Leigh passed the pork chops to him. “I’m fine. We had plenty to drink and a good lunch, too.”
Cy nodded, but noted how tired she looked. “How’d it go?”
Johnny said, “We’re about halfway there. That dang ground is so rocky. It’s slowing us down. We’d have had that ditch done if it wasn’t for that.”
Leigh nodded. “It doesn’t help that it’s packed so hard, either.”
Daphne said, “That’s one of the reasons that the garden doesn’t always do well, too.”
Leigh said, “We’re gonna fix that next year. Don’t worry about that.”
Cy raised an eyebrow at her.
“We’re gonna dig up a patch of ground about two feet deep and replace that stubborn, rocky ground with nice top soil. I’m gonna get good seeds from the supplier we always used,” Leigh said.
Cy nodded approvingly. “Sounds like you have it all figured out.”
“It’s what I grew up doing, and I learned a lot from Walt and our foreman, Stan, too.”
Johnny asked, “What was your husband like?”
Leigh smiled. “He was blond and had blue eyes. He made everyone laugh and he was really friendly. He could be tough when he had to be, though. He played spoons and liked to dance.”
Daphne said, “He sounds like a lot of fun.”
“He was.”
Cy tried to squelch the jealously that flooded him. He knew there wasn’t much about him that was fun. Maybe he should try to change that some for Leigh’s sake. While he’d been working for Pinkerton’s, there hadn’t been a whole lot of opportunities for fun, except for when he’d been with her.
He kept his eyes on his plate as he struggled to rein in his emotions. Staying still always helped calm him and now was no exception. He took slow, deep breaths until the tension in his shoulders eased.
“So tell us about the break-in at the Bransons’, Cy,” Daphne said.
