An Angel in the Mail (29 page)

“Marcus,” Eli bellowed, turning toward the door.

The doorman appeared, his face blank as befits all well-trained servants.

“Yes, Mr. Benson.”

“Arrange to have my horse saddled. And send word to my attorney that I want him to meet me at the jailhouse. Immediately.”

The doorman bowed, and left to carry out his task.

“We’ll go in our buggy and meet you there.” Nate took Angel’s arm.

“Don’t you worry, little missy.” Eli patted Angel’s hand. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Eli slid from his horse at the jailhouse and stomped up the steps. The door flew open, and Sheriff Travis flinched as it banged against the wall. Eli pulled himself up to his full height, and glared at the sheriff.

Eying the gun strapped to the man’s hips, the sheriff stood. “You better calm yourself down, Eli, or you’ll be joining the little lady back there in her cell.”

Eli shifted his cigar and leaned fisted hands on the sheriff’s desk, as the lawman sat back down. “I understand you made the huge mistake of arresting my fiancée, Sheriff.”

The lawman ran his fingers through his hair. “I merely did my duty.”

“Eli!” Sylvia’s voice moaned from the hallway.

“I’m comin’, sweetheart.” Eli glared at the sheriff as he stomped down the hall.

Sylvia reached out between the bars to grasp his hand.

“Eli,” she sobbed, “the sheriff said he arrested me for grand larceny. I don’t even know what grand larceny is.” Hanging on the bars, her eyes red and puffy from crying, Sylvia looked pathetic. Eli’s gut clenched.

He turned to the sheriff who had joined them, and rattled the bars. “Open this damn door.”

“Now, Eli.” The sheriff shook his head. “I can’t release Mrs. Hardwick until I get instructions from New York.”

“I don’t care if you’re awaiting instructions from the President of the United States. I want her out of there. Now.”

The front door flew open, and Nate, Angel, and attorney Damian Lawton entered the front room. Damian took off his bowler hat and ran his fingers around the inside of his shirt collar.

Spotting the man, Eli shouted, “Damian, move yourself over here, and get my fiancée out of this cell.”

The lawyer hurried to the cell surrounded by the sheriff, Eli, Angel and Nate. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he turned to the sheriff. “Sheriff, I’m sure Mrs. Hardwick can be bonded out.”

“Well, I can’t rightly say.” The sheriff rubbed his chin. “I’m waiting for instructions from New York.”

“I don’t give a damn—excuse me ladies—what New York says. I want her out of here now,” Eli thundered.

Damian turned to him. “Eli, let me and the sheriff discuss this. It will all go much smoother.”

The attorney took the sheriff by the elbow and eased him away from the crowd. “Sheriff, this woman is Mr. Eli Benson’s fiancée.”

The sheriff pulled his arm free and placed fisted hands on his hips. “Damn it man, I know that. What I’m trying to tell you is I have to wait on instructions from New York.”

Damian lowered his voice as he continued to move the man away from the cell. Eli turned in their direction, listening to every word the lawyer said. “Sir, the reason I mention that is because Mrs. Hardwick is obviously not going anywhere. I would like you to release her into Mr. Benson’s guardianship. We will make her available to you when your instructions are received.”

The sheriff rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’ll release her, but you make sure she stays in your house.” He pointed at Eli.

As the cell door swung open, Sylvia collapsed into Eli’s arms, sobbing. Throwing the sheriff a dirty look, Eli walked her out of the office, murmuring, and rubbing her back as they left.

“Sheriff, we would sure like more information on this. Did the police in New York tell you anything else except the charges?” Nate took the chair across from the Sheriff’s desk in the newly quiet office.

“No. Sorry, Nate,” he said, flopping in his chair. “As soon as they tell me, I’ll let you know.”

Damian Lawton tugged his hat back on, and approached the sheriff. “I would like to be notified the minute you receive further information. I will be either in my office, or at home.” With a nod in Angel and Nate’s direction, he left.

Blowing out a huge breath, the sheriff rotated his shoulders, and turned to Nate. “From now on, I’ll let you deal with Eli Benson. That man may be of short stature, but he’s a force to be reckoned with.”

“That’s because he’s very tall when he stands on his money.” Angel smirked, as she and Nate headed to the door.

Lucy sat in front of the gilded mirror in her room, brushing her hair, when she heard voices downstairs. Daydreams of her and Nate in San Francisco were interrupted by sobbing and the low rumble of her father’s voice. Curious, she quickly pulled her hair back and tied it with a ribbon.

As she reached the bottom step, her father and a distraught Sylvia murmured to each other in the front hall. Papa slid his arm around Sylvia, and she sobbed into his shoulder. Lucy rolled her eyes and wondered what tragedy had struck the woman now.

Papa and Sylvia entered the parlor, and Lucy joined them.

“What’s wrong, Papa?” she said with glee, taking in the woman’s distress.

“The idiot sheriff arrested Mrs. Hardwick today. It’s all a mistake. We’re waiting for him to clear it up.”

Lucy’s heart jumped for joy, but she kept a sorrowful expression on her face. “Oh, that’s terrible, ma’am. I’m sure it will all be straightened out soon,” she murmured.

“Lucy, will you please ask Cook to make a pot of tea for Mrs. Hardwick?”

“Yes, Papa, absolutely. Right away.” As she turned to leave the room, Sylvia wailed, “I don’t understand.”

After Lucy took care of passing along her father’s request, she returned to her room. She poured a glass of brandy and sat on the edge of her bed to think.

Mrs. Sylvia Hardwick had finally been arrested. The law had caught up with the common thief. She swung around and put her feet up, then took a leisurely sip of the brown liquid, rolling it around her mouth before she swallowed. A pity that a woman couldn’t enjoy a glass of brandy in public like men could.

If only it had been Angel arrested. Lucy was more convinced than ever the Hardwick women were criminals. She felt almost giddy at the image of both of them being led away with their hands tied behind their backs, the sheriff moving them along with his rifle square in their middle.

Nate braked the buggy in front of the jailhouse, the same time Damian Lawton arrived. They nodded to each other, and entered the building.

“Got information here for you fellas.” The sheriff lifted a piece of paper from his desk and leaned forward, holding the missive next to the oil lamp.

They waited patiently while the sheriff’s eyes flicked over it once more.

“The New York City Police said Mrs. Hardwick absconded with money from her husband’s estate that should have been repaid to depositors. It states in this here telegram that she needs to return to New York to face charges, or, since the country is involved in a war right now, they will dismiss the charges if she returns the money.”

“How much money are we talking about, sheriff?” Nate wanted to know.

The sheriff peered at the paper again. “According to this, one thousand, two hundred fifty-nine dollars and twenty-seven cents.”

Nate whistled softly. “That’s a lot of money. I’m going to have to talk to Sylvia, and see what she knows about this. I’ll tell you, Sheriff, my mother-in-law has her faults, but I doubt she would be involved in stealing money from her husband’s bank.”

“Well, I’ll let you all handle it. Either the money goes back to New York or she does.” He glared at the attorney. “And please remember, Mr. Lawton, Mrs. Hardwick is out of this jail based on your assurance that she would not leave.”

“I understand, Sheriff,” Damian said. “I’m going out to Eli’s place now.”

Sylvia reclined on the bed in one of the guest rooms, a cold cloth on her head. Tears would no longer come, but as tired as she was, she found it impossible to sleep. Thoughts about the arrest kept swirling in her mind. Thinking she would be dragged back to the jail, and locked up again, terrified her.

Her head jerked at the sound of a buggy arriving. She hurried to the window. If the visitor was the sheriff, she planned to hide.

She pushed the heavy damask drape aside and watched Eli’s attorney and Nate walk up the front steps. After dabbing her face with the wet cloth, she smoothed her hair and left the room.

“Sweetheart, how are you feeling?” Eli took her ice-cold hands in his warm ones.

Her voice trembled. “Not good. I’m still terrified.”

He led her to the oversized settee and sat next to her, pulling her body close to his, a dour expression on his face. He motioned to the two chairs across from him. “Have a seat, gentlemen. I assume you have information?”

“According to the wire the sheriff got from New York, Mrs. Hardwick left New York with money due to depositors in her husband’s bank.” Damian sat stiffly in the chair, obviously not happy to be the deliverer of bad news.

“Honey, do you know what he’s talking about?” Eli turned to Sylvia.

“No. All I know is the attorney for Gerald’s estate told me while my husband was sick, the assistant, who he’d left in charge, stole money.” She cleared her throat, her chin trembling. “All the money my husband left me, as well as our home and all its belongings, were turned over to the bank for the people who lost money.”

“Did you get any money before you left?” Nate leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Yes. The lawyer gave me a check for two hundred eleven dollars. All I had in the world. That’s why I moved in with my sister. The money barely paid the fare for me and my maid to travel to Virginia.”

“How much are we talking about here?” Eli looked at Damian.

Damian scanned his notes. “One thousand, two hundred fifty-nine dollars and twenty-seven cents. The sheriff said, according to the New York City Police, either the money or Sylvia has to be returned to New York.”

“I don’t want to go back to New York.” Sylvia wailed, tucking her head into Eli’s shoulder.

“You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” He rubbed circles on her back.

He glared at his attorney. “Write a check, and make this go away, Lawton. I don’t want my fiancée upset.”

“Yes sir.”

Eli stood, and helped Sylvia up. “Mrs. Hardwick has had a terrible day. I am going to see she gets a hot bath and a comfortable bed. You’ll excuse us.”

Nate and Damian both nodded at the couple, and started for the door.

It had been a long, tiring day. Nate walked into his bedroom and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it out of his pants. Angel slept, propped on a pillow, with a book on her lap. Even in sleep, she wore a slight smile. Once again he reflected on how much he loved her, and what a difference she’d made in his life. Her cooking was dreadful, her housekeeping skills minimal, and she was a beautiful woman. All the things he hadn’t wanted in a mail order bride. Thank heaven the Good Lord hadn’t taken him seriously.

He retrieved the book, closed it, and placed it on the table next to her, then reached over and blew out the lamp.

He finished undressing and crawled into bed. He eased Angel down, and she cuddled against him, wrapping her arm around his waist. Nate settled her onto his chest and kissed her sweet-smelling hair. He tucked his hand behind his head, and thought about the day. The missing money presented a quandary, but Eli evidently wanted to forget the whole thing. Sylvia could be described as flighty and somewhat silly, but she didn’t have the makeup to do something criminal.

“How did everything work out?” Angel’s sleepy voice interrupted his musings.

“I thought you were asleep.” He shifted and took in Angel’s half-lidded eyes.

She yawned. “I was, but the sound of your thinking woke me up.”

“How much did you know about your father’s estate?”

“Not much. Only what Sylvia told me. She said almost all of Papa’s money and belongings had to be turned over to the bank due to deficits created by his assistant.”

He tucked a silky strand of hair behind her ear. “Did Sylvia tell you how much money the solicitors gave her?”

“No, not the exact amount, but I got the impression it wasn’t very much.” Angel yawned again.

“All right, darlin’, go to sleep. We’ll talk more about it in the morning.”

“Just tell me if Sylvia is all right.” She mumbled as her eyes drifted closed.

“She’s fine. The whole thing is being taken care of.”

“Good.” The last word barely a whisper, as she snuggled closer and dropped off to sleep.

Once again, Lucy climbed the worn stairs of the old building, and walked the hallway to Moses McNeil’s office. The unchanged sight of the corpulent man in the same suit, with another cigar smoldering in the ashtray, and the same messy desk, greeted her. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Mr. McNeil, what additional information do you have for me?” She pointedly ignored the chair he indicated.

“It seems that our checking into Mrs. Hale’s background caused the New York City Police department to locate Mrs. Hale’s stepmother, Mrs. Hardwick. I understand she’ll be arrested for grand larceny.”