Tracie Peterson - [Desert Roses 01] (28 page)

“Alex, give me a chance to prove to you that I can be worthy of your trust. Give me a chance to show you that not all men do the things your father did. Please . . . give us a chance. Please trust me.”

Alex thought of all the misery she’d endured since coming to the Grand Canyon. It was always Luke who transformed her day from bad to good. She thought of the way he’d kept her secrets—he deserved her trust.

She took a deep breath. “I overheard my father talking with Joel Harper. I think Mr. Harper has schemed to kill Mr. Jastrow, along with anyone else who plans to compete against Senator Winthrop—including President Harding.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “You truly believe Harper has had something to do with the president’s death? That seems unlikely. He’s been here all along.”

“They accused me of hiring someone to kill my father. Why does it seem so farfetched that Mr. Harper could hire someone to kill the president? After all, he has plenty of money to use for whatever he needs.” Alex felt better for having told Luke the truth, for trusting him, but she had no idea where her words would lead them.

Luke pulled away, the expression on his face betraying his concern. “If this is true—if he’s not just trying to sound threatening to you and the others—this is a whole lot worse than I’d imagined.”

“I would guess that Mr. Harper does nothing to merely
sound threatening, Luke. I think he’s very dangerous, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he was the one responsible for my father’s death.”

“But your mother was there when it happened. She surely wouldn’t try to protect Harper.”

“Not unless he was threatening her,” Alex countered. “But I don’t honestly know what he could use against her. He might have known about the fact that she wanted a divorce, but everyone would have found out about that sooner or later. No, if my mother had witnessed Mr. Harper killing my father, she wouldn’t have a single reason to keep it from the authorities.”

“That’s not true,” Luke said, looking even more worried than he had before. “She’d have one very good reason . . . you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Nothing was going right for Joel Harper. The grand gala to announce Senator Winthrop’s candidacy for president and Joel’s engagement to Valerie was to have been the culmination of everything he had worked for, but now all that had changed.

“I think for the benefit of the nation and for our good name, we should return to South Carolina,” the senator told his group over breakfast. “The death of our president should be properly mourned.”

Joel couldn’t repress a laugh. “Two days ago we were talking about how incompetent the man was. Now we’re going to pretend to care about his death?”

“No pretense, Joel. I do care about his death. I care about his family and the pain this loss will cause them. I care about the vast number of supporters who will be devastated at this news,” the senator replied.

“The immoral women of Washington, D.C., are the supporters who will miss him most,” Joel said with a sneer. “No doubt those wretched creatures will have to find some other means of support.”

“That’s enough, Joel. There’s nothing to be gained by such talk,” the senator commanded. “We’d be seen as worse than opportunists if we were to continue with a party and politics as usual. It would ruin our campaign.”

“I agree,” Laird said. “I never cared for the man one whit, but I won’t be accused of refusing him the respect due the office. My secretary is securing our train passage at this very moment.”

“As is my daughter,” Winthrop replied.

So that’s where she is
, Joel thought. He’d figured her to be hiding in her room, cowering away, avoiding him. The thought had given him great pleasure.

“I instructed her to get us tickets for the first available train,” Winthrop added.

Joel wasted little time asserting his views. “It will take time to gather our things, pay the bills, see to our entourage.”

“Exactly so,” the senator replied. “We’ll leave someone here to see to it all.”

Joel shook his head, trying desperately to think of a way to buy time. “It will be difficult to bring everyone together in one place again. This is a prime opportunity, and we’ll be less than responsible to our supporters if we walk away from the campaign now.”

“No one is walking away from the campaign,” the senator said firmly. “There are plans to be in Los Angeles in October and, of course, we can always reschedule our own event either here or back in South Carolina.”

“But it’s not the same. The momentum will be lost,” Joel said, fearing his plans would completely unravel. He wanted to eliminate Jastrow before leaving the canyon, but he could hardly explain that to this group.

“The momentum is already lost,” one man at the table threw in.

Joel narrowed his gaze, marking the man as an enemy. “The people are shocked, naturally. But this is the time to move forward and remind them that Calvin Coolidge will take the office of president and that we need to—”

“No, Joel. I generally agree wholeheartedly with you,” the senator interjected, “but this time, I must object. Proper etiquette demands we show our respect.”

“But you can’t leave without letting the people know your intentions,” Joel said, quickly trying to think of how he might convince the senator to at least give one last party. “You may desire to save your official announcement for the presidency, but the people who’ve come here deserve to hear you say something about this entire matter.”

Joel could see the senator’s expression grow thoughtful and felt a small twinge of victory. “Remember,” he added, “the
people are rather like sheep waiting to be herded and told what to do. You’ve instructed them to come, and come they have. Now you want to just leave them to their own devices. That would certainly spell disaster for you.”

“Well, I suppose you have a point, Joel. When I discussed this with Valerie, she said we should head for home immediately,” the senator drawled in his slow southern manner. “But I suppose she wouldn’t object to a brief gathering, one in which we could share our condolences with our supporters. Maybe even give them some idea of our future arrangements.”

Joel began to breathe a little easier. He’d deal with Valerie later—punish her for attempting to thwart his plans with her influence over her father. But for now he’d help the senator decide what was to be done, and then he’d step up his plans for Jastrow.

Two Harvey Girls entered the room to serve breakfast and Joel immediately noticed neither one was Alexandria Keegan. It was as if the entire world was attempting to foul up his day. His feelings of elation over what he’d managed to accomplish with the president were fading fast in the face of these minor defeats. He toyed with a fork while waiting for the dark-haired Harvey waitress to serve his plate.

“Where is Miss Keegan?” he questioned.

The woman eyed him with a look of disbelief. “Her father was murdered.”

“Yes, I know that. She was about her business yesterday, so I presumed she was attempting to keep busy.”

“I believe she and her mother are planning the funeral,” the girl offered and said nothing more.

“Remind me to send her an extra bonus,” the senator told Joel. “Her work was exemplary, and I want to reward her.”

Joel nodded but said nothing. He pushed the food around on his plate and tried to calculate what needed to be done to control the most damage and return order to his plans.

With the others talking amongst themselves, the senator leaned over to talk in a hushed whisper. “Joel, I know you’re
disappointed, but there are several factors we must consider. Our public will expect us to offer them comfort and hope. You see, what happened to President Harding could just as easily happen to the next president. We must be prepared to show them our strength, without looking as though we have no feelings for the situation at hand.”

Winthrop drew a deep breath and continued. “There are also matters we need to discuss privately, between the two of us.”

“You and me?” Joel questioned, not liking the idea. “Yes. You see, I’m concerned about Valerie. She’s not feeling well—in fact, the last few days she’s been most unhappy. I’m not at all comfortable with forcing her to announce her engagement when she’s feeling so poorly.”

His words came as a blow to Joel’s ego. “She’s just succumbing to the heat and excitement. She might even be struggling with the tragedy that has occurred here.”

“Nevertheless, we’ll wait a week or two and let her recover.” The words were given without room for protest. The senator didn’t even wait for a response as he turned back to his companions to offer his ideas for the evening’s event. Joel felt his temper rise, but there was no way he could let it become evident.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Joel said, putting his napkin aside, “I believe I could use some air.”

He exited the room, narrowly missing the Harvey Girl who entered bringing coffee. He pushed back several tourists and made his way through the hall and up the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, he made his way to Valerie’s floor and proceeded to her room. Taking the key he’d managed to buy off one of the bellboys, Joel opened the door to find the room completely deserted. The bed stood pristine, in freshly made order. The nightstand was void of Valerie’s book and other accessories.

A search of the wardrobe and bath revealed the same.
She had removed all evidence of her presence. Where had she gone? What kind of game did she think she was playing?

He slammed the door behind him and stood in the hall momentarily. His own room was at the end of the corridor, with Winthrop’s suite situated between his room and Valerie’s. He walked toward the senator’s door, thinking to knock and see if Valerie had hidden herself in her father’s room, but just as he approached a maid came out from the room.

“Excuse me,” Joel said, smiling and putting on his best display of charm. “Could you tell me if Miss Winthrop is inside?”

“No, sir. There’s no one in there.” “Do you mind if I look for myself?”

The woman shook her head. “I can’t let another guest inside the senator’s suite.”

Joel pulled several bills from his wallet. “Not even for this?”

Luke knew he had no conclusive evidence to prove Joel Harper’s plans, but armed with Alex’s information and his own suspicions, he intended to meet with the rangers. Most of these men knew him well after ten years at the canyon. They knew his character and the way he conducted business. If they were going to learn the truth about Harper, someone was going to have to listen to reason.

He had nearly reached El Tovar when he spotted Valerie Winthrop coming back from the direction of the train depot. Luke thought momentarily to hide from sight, but then reconsidered. The woman might very well be willing to offer up information vital to his task. After all, who would know Joel Harper better than the woman he intended to marry?

She spotted him and smiled. Gone was the enthusiastic greeting and flirtatious temperament Luke had been forced to deal with on so many occasions.

“Hello, Mr. Toland,” she said softly. She actually looked past him, rather than at him.

Luke noted that she had dressed conservatively in a brown tweed skirt and jacket. A peek of a turquoise-colored blouse could be seen at the top of the jacket, but otherwise there was no other hint of color. It was a far cry from the flamboyant and daring fashions she’d worn before.

“How are you today, Miss Winthrop?”

She surprised him by refusing to meet his gaze. It was almost as if she was embarrassed. “I suppose I’m as well as one can be, given the news.”

“Yes, it’s quite a blow to hear about the president.”

She finally turned her gaze upon him. “You know, I’ve been thinking about the things you said.”

Luke started at the change of subject. “What things?” He knew his tone sounded suspicious, but Valerie Winthrop had been a real thorn in his side.

“The things about God. I suppose hearing about the president’s death and, of course, Mr. Keegan’s . . .” She shuddered. “Well . . . I guess . . . I just wondered about what you’d said. You talked about turning to God and never being alone.”

“That’s right.” Luke pushed aside his suspicions. If she wanted to know about a relationship with God, he needed to be open to that.

“Well, it just seems that my life is rather . . . well . . .” She sighed and looked past him to the canyon. “I feel like nothing is going right. I feel alone, and yet there are so many people who play a part in my life.” She shook her head. “I know none of this probably makes any sense to you.”

“It makes perfect sense, Miss Winthrop.” Luke prayed for the right words. “Without a rightness to God, nothing is ever really put in order. We’re just going through the motions. We get up in the morning and go about our affairs, meet with our friends and deal with business, but something is always missing.”

She looked rather shocked and nodded. “Yes. Yes. It’s exactly that. I know I’ve been rather outspoken and the manner in which I’ve treated you has been inappropriate, but I really
want to better understand what you’re talking about. My mother—she was religious. I know she spoke about God, but I never listened. My father insists we go to church every Sunday, but I’m not sure that it’s for God’s sake so much as for the sake of public approval. After all, everyone goes to church.”