An Untimely Frost (14 page)

C
HAPTER
26

L
illy spent the remainder of that day asking more questions of Purcell's former congregation. Many of the older members had passed away; a few had moved. Phillip Townsend, one of the two lawyers in town, met her at the door of his house, which was situated near the edge of town. He shook her hand and agreed to give her a few moments, though, like the banker, he was “a busy man.”

He led Lilly through the foyer of his impressive two-story house into a book-lined office where he rounded the desk and indicated that she should take a chair opposite his. They both sat and he reached out to straighten a stack of papers. Her gaze went unerringly to the ring on his right hand, and for an instant she couldn't draw her next breath. Then she realized that though the stone was onyx with a “T” in the center, it was not the style worn by her mother's killer as she remembered it.

She took a handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at the dew of perspiration that had appeared on her upper lip. Now that she'd remembered that day, was she doomed to suffer those pangs of panic every time she saw a man with a signet ring?

After a few moments of conversation, she learned that Phillip Townsend and his wife had been members of the reverend's flock, but he did not know anything of consequence to add to her slim dossier on the preacher.

She gave a sigh of disappointment. “What about your wife? Perhaps she recalls something Mrs. Purcell might have mentioned—woman-to-woman.”

“I don't mean to be rude, Miss Long,” the attorney said, “but under no circumstances are you to speak to my wife. Her mental state has been precarious for some time.”

A bit shocked by the vehemence in his voice, she nonetheless acquiesced. “I understand, Mr. Townsend, and I'm sorry. It truly is not my wish to cause anyone any undue pain. What about your daughter, Rachel? Does she still live here?”

“Unfortunately, no. Rachel moved away about the time the Purcells vanished,” he said.

Sensing that she'd received as much information from the lawyer as he was willing to give, she thanked him, took up her purse, and started to leave. At the door, she turned. “One more thing. I just learned that Eloise Mercer is married. Do you know where I can find her husband?”

“Buddy's dead,” the attorney said. “Has been for many years.”

Lilly thanked him and left.

Many of the people she tried to question either refused to talk or gave her answers along the same lines she'd received the day before. By that afternoon, there was no one left who might be able to offer viable information but Virginia Holbrook.

Pushing James Reihmann's warning from her mind, Lilly walked the four blocks to the Holbrook home, hoping to find Virginia there. She was surprised when the banker's daughter answered the door. From the expression on her face, it was clear that if she'd had any inkling of her caller's identity, she would not have been so eager to answer the knock.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Holbrook,” Lilly said before the woman could slam the door in her face. “I hate to bother you at home, but I received a list of Harold Purcell's church members from Reverend Lawrence a couple of days ago, and saw your family's name on the roll. If you have the time, I'd like to ask you a few questions.”

There was a distraught expression in the woman's eyes. “If I agree to talk to you, will you go away and leave us alone?”

“Us?”

“The town,” Virginia said with some asperity. “You have no idea the misery you've caused by opening old wounds.”

Shades of the warning letter, Lilly thought, wondering once more what was behind the town's paranoia. “I'm truly sorry. Upsetting the town was not my intent. I'm just trying to do my job, and you're the last person I need to talk with.”

“I honestly don't want to talk about the man—ever,” Virginia said. “But if you promise to leave here without troubling us anymore, I'll let you come in.”

“I hope to wrap up things here by this evening, and leave on the morning train,” Lilly assured her.

The announcement had the desired effect. Without a word, Virginia stepped aside. The contrast between this home and Eloise Mercer's was dramatic. Nothing was out of place. Windows glittered in the sunlight. Dust would not have dared to collect on the gleaming furniture.

Virginia Holbrook gestured toward the parlor, where a small fire banished the chill of the spring day. Lilly settled into a chair near the fire; Virginia took the rocking chair across from her. Lilly would have loved a cup of tea or coffee, but it seemed unlikely that Virginia's hospitality would stretch beyond a grudging discussion.

Ignoring the anger blazing in her hostess's eyes, Lilly tugged off her gloves. It seemed there was no way to approach the subject except head-on, so she did just that.

“I'll try to be as brief as possible, Mrs. Holbrook.”

“Please do.”

“Though there are many people who won't talk to me at all about Harold Purcell, I've found out that he stole from the church, that his daughter was ill, that they have not been heard from since they slipped out of town in the dead of the night, and that no one seems to have any idea where they might have gone. Over the past few days I've gained somewhat of a feel for what kind of person he was, and I've heard all the strange tales of ghosts and murders that are believed to have happened at Heaven's Gate, yet even with all that information I don't feel as if I'm being told the whole truth.”

“There are often many versions of the truth, Miss Long. You say you have a feel for what kind of man Harold Purcell was, but I doubt that very much,” she said in a cold voice.

“He came to this town with his engaging ways and hellfire and brimstone sermons, and made us believe the things he told us about heaven and hell. Then, he fleeced his congregation, took our”—she swallowed—“our innocence and trampled us under his greed and self-importance. He's an evil man, Miss Long, and I hope he rots in hell!”

She lurched to her feet and clasped her shaking hands together. “I'm sorry,” she said in a trembling voice. “I can't do this. I'm afraid you'll have to leave.”

There was no denying the woman's agitation. It would be churlish to stay. Lilly stood. “I'm sorry for upsetting you, Mrs. Holbrook. I'll see myself out.”

She thanked Virginia and left, more bewildered than before. She understood that by asking questions about the past, she'd brought back unpleasant memories to many people, but for the life of her, she didn't see how it could be as upsetting as the reactions she'd stirred up. It didn't take a seasoned operative to know there was more going on here than Purcell taking money, but how was she to find out what it was when no one would talk to her?

She was left with no recourse but to speculate. By all accounts Purcell was handsome and charming. Charismatic. A flirt. The sheriff mentioned something that had happened that he couldn't forgive. Virginia Holbrook spoke of engaging ways and stripping the congregation of their innocence.

The possibility that the reverend
had
behaved indiscreetly with some of the ladies of the church was gaining credibility. Had Eloise or Virginia's mother been among his conquests? Was Mrs. Townsend's precarious mental state caused by her being found out by her husband and the town folks? That would certainly explain the sheriff's and Mr. Reihmann's animosity.

If Harold Purcell had been unfaithful to his wife and had seduced the women of his congregation, it was no real surprise to Lilly. He was a man, after all, and in her opinion, men were in general rakes and reprobates, concerned only with themselves, their desires, their needs. Her theory made sense, but she doubted she would ever know the truth, and as eager as she was to know what had happened, it really didn't matter. None of it had any bearing on her assignment. All she needed to be concerned with was finding the Purcells and asking them if they wanted to sell Heaven's Gate.

With her leads exhausted, she went back to the hotel, longing for a hot bath and something to take her mind off the case. One of the Holbrook boys stopped her as she started up the stairs, handing her a telegram. It was from William, who instructed Lilly to return to Heaven's Gate once more before she left for Springfield. She was to look for anything that might shed some light on the past.

Though she hated revisiting the place, William left her no choice. Maybe with her wits more about her, she would find something that would point her in a new direction.

But that chore was for tomorrow. She'd had enough of the town's hostility for one day. Just now there was nothing more pressing on her agenda than to have a leisurely bath and go watch Nora Nash at the Fehren. The familiarity of the theater and seeing a new play would go a long way toward getting her mind off her work. Just the kind of evening she needed.

C
HAPTER
27

T
he three-story Fehren Opera House stood on the corner of Fifth Street, kitty-corner from the Dieckmann House. The brick façade, with its arched windows, faced Gallatin. The opera house itself was located on the third floor of the building, while doctors dispensed medicine and lawyers, including Mr. Townsend, dispensed legal advice on the second. The first floor was comprised of various shops.

Lilly couldn't help the excitement coursing through her as she watched Nora play the lead in
Esmeralda.
Though her friend was perhaps not as polished as Hallie Elliott, who had made the lead role of the popular comedy her own, and even though the other performers in the troupe were not on the same par as Jacob Bunn, Will Tracy, et al, Lilly deemed the overall performance still quite respectable.

When the final curtain closed, she made her way through the throng to the dressing rooms located on the northeast corner of the theater. As in many venues, heating was too little or none at all, and once away from the relative warmth of the lights, it was easy to become chilled.

After telling one of the stagehands who she was, she was let in. Giving little heed to the bawdy laughter and crude comments flying between the actresses as they scrubbed away the heavy stage makeup and shucked their costumes for their own clothes, Lilly scanned the group of women for her friend. It was impossible not to spot Nora's frizzy, silver-blond hair among the group of chattering, laughing women.

“Hey, Blondie!” Lilly called into the melee. “Come and say hello to an old friend.”

Hands wiping makeup stilled, half-clad bodies became motionless, and every head turned at the sound of her voice. She knew the exact moment Nora recognized her. The question disappeared from her brown eyes and her mouth widened into a comical O of surprise.

With a little squeal of delight, Nora launched herself across the room, enveloping Lilly in a familiar embrace. “Sweet heaven, Lilly girl,” she said, holding her at arm's length, “you've grown into a proper woman the last two years. What on earth are you doing here?”

“You won't believe me when I tell you,” Lilly said. “But we can talk over a late dinner, if you don't have any previous commitments.”

Nora grinned. “Now what would I have going on in a strange town?” She laughed gaily. “Just give me a few minutes, sweetie, and we'll be on our way.”

Fifteen minutes later, Lilly and her friend were sitting in a restaurant down the street. A few places had grown smart enough to take advantage of the theater's presence the nights they were in town by staying open to indulge theatergoers in a late meal or a hot beverage and dessert. Over rich black coffee and perfectly decadent slices of chocolate pie with mile-high meringue, the two friends caught up on the happenings in their lives over the past two years.

Lilly told Nora about the turnaround in the troupe's success since Pierce had taken over its management, about her recently being given some lead roles, and the whole sordid tale of Timothy. It would do no good to hide it, since all their common friends knew the truth.

“He hit you?” Nora asked in horror. “And Rose?”

“Yes.” Lilly went on to tell her about her trip to MacGregor's and what she'd discovered about her husband there.

“Well, all I can say is that it was meant for you to find out the truth. Better sooner than later, I say.”

“I know.”

Lilly went on to tell her friend how the incident with Tim had played a part in her decision to try to help other women who had been taken advantage of. She even told her about applying for the Pinkerton position as three different women. Nora sat listening with wide eyes. When Lilly got to the part about Mrs. Partridge taking off her wig and revealing her identity, Nora laughed until tears ran down her freckled cheeks.

“Oh, Lilly, that's rich!” she said, wiping at her eyes. “So did they hire you?”

“Indeed they did,” she said, “which is why I'm in Vandalia. I'm tracing a missing person.”

“You're joshing me!”

“I said you wouldn't believe me,” Lilly reminded with a smile. “It's true.” She gave Nora a sketchy version of her assignment, and confessed, “I haven't been able to find out much, so I'm off to Springfield day after tomorrow. Because of their daughter's illness, that's the only lead I have, and if nothing pans out there, it's back to Chicago for me. And besides,” she added with a guilty grin, “the Pierced Rose Troupe is filling in a cancellation at a small theater in Springfield for two weeks, so I'll have a chance to see Rose and Pierce. I haven't been gone but a few days, yet I miss everyone already.”

“That's normal,” Nora said. Looking thoughtful, she rested her pointed chin on her palm. “So, Lil, with the divorce from Timothy in the works, you'll soon be footloose and fancy free.”

“I don't feel footloose and fancy free. I feel like an imbecile for being taken in so easily.”

Nora covered Lilly's hand with hers. “Don't be so hard on yourself. Men like Timothy are professionals. Taking in women is an art form to them. Someone will come along someday who will be everything you want and need, and then you'll live happily ever after.”

There was no denying the soft glow of happiness in her friend's eyes. “Nora . . .” Lilly said with a smile. “What's going on? Have you found someone?”

Nora's eyes glittered with tears and she nodded. “I have. His name is Elijah Wilkins, and he lives in Ft. Worth.”

“Texas?”

“Yes, he's a cattle rancher and he's looking for a wife.”

“A wife!”

Nora nodded. “I signed up to be a mail-order bride.”

“Oh, Nora, you didn't!” Lilly said, scandalized.

“I did, Lil,” she said with a defiant lift of her chin. “Lots of women are doing it.” She stared down at the dregs of coffee in her cup for long seconds and then lifted her weary gaze to Lilly's. “I'm tired of sleeping in a different room every week or so. Sick of not having a place to call my own. I want a regular life with a husband and kids. I want a porch with a rocking chair.”

Lilly couldn't argue with the sentiment. It was the same reason she'd decided to spend her savings on a house somewhere and settle down to a non-nomadic life. But that was impossible now, thanks to Timothy.

“How do you know you're getting a decent man, since you've never seen him?” Lilly asked.

“You met Timothy face-to-face and were fooled, so how can anyone know what they're getting without spending time together?”

“True,” Lilly said with a sigh.

“Elijah and I have been corresponding for several months,” Nora said. “He asked me to marry him, and I accepted, and I'll be leaving for Texas in a couple of weeks.”

“You'll keep in touch, won't you?” Lilly asked.

“Of course I will. Who knows? The troupe might play in Ft. Worth or Dallas sometime.”

“And you don't mind moving to Texas?”

“Not at all,” Nora assured her. “It will be a wonderful new experience.”

Lilly still had her doubts, but her friend was so excited it would have been rude to belabor the issue. After more than two hours, they hugged and parted company, both promising to keep in touch.

As Nora released Lilly, her friend met her gaze, and said, “It's a good thing you're doing, Lil,” she said, giving Lilly's hand a pat. “A really good thing.”