One of the oldest lies around, Fargo reflected, and the girl had fallen for it.
“I tried to find out who the man was,” Susannah continued. “I asked and pried and snooped in her room but there was never a clue. All she would say was that he was handsome and a gentleman.” Susannah snorted in derision. “The vermin seduced my little baby and she called him a gentleman.”
“How long had she been seeing him?”
“Tamar wouldn’t say,” Susannah said. “She clamped up and gave me that look of hers that told me wild horses couldn’t drag it out of her. I was worried sick. ‘What if you become pregnant?’ I asked her. She said the man promised to leave his wife right away if that happened and they would go off together to live happily ever after. Her exact words. Happily ever after. What do you think of that?”
Fargo had learned long ago that people were as stupid as they wanted to be and nothing anyone could say could change them. “It’s too bad you couldn’t find out who it was.”
“I know. I know,” Susannah sadly agreed. “You can imagine my predicament. I was the only one who knew her secret. My husband went on with his daily routine, thinking everything was fine, and I didn’t dare confide in him. It would have destroyed him to think his pride and joy could stoop so low.”
“And then she disappeared,” Fargo said.
“Yes.” Susannah grimaced with inner hurt. “I thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse but it did. She vanished. We searched and searched. Our neighbors helped and townsmen came and Marshal Tibbit organized them, the one thing he’s done right. But there was no trace of Tamar anywhere.” She looked at Fargo. Tears had formed at the corners of her eyes and were trickling down her cheeks. “I didn’t know what to think. Was the married man to blame? Or was it whoever took the first girl, Felicity? And then when those other girls went missing—” She stopped and shook her head. “It’s all so confusing.”
“It seems to be,” Fargo said.
Susannah wiped her face with her sleeve. “Then I heard about you and here I am. Will you accept the money or not?”
“Not,” Fargo said, and slid the purse across to her.
“You do have scruples.”
“I’m not a paid assassin.”
“I just hate to think he might get away with it. That Tibbit will arrest him and he’ll go on trial and maybe they’ll put him in prison instead of being strung up by the neck as he should be.”
“I’ll do what needs doing,” Fargo said. Beyond that, he wasn’t willing to make a promise he might not be able to keep.
“If that’s how it has to be.” Susannah took the purse and slowly rose, a portrait in misery. “I had such high hopes.”
Fargo walked around and gently gripped her arms. When she raised her head he looked her in the eyes and said again, “I’ll do what needs doing. On that you can count.”
“Oh,” Susannah said, and then again, more happily, “Oh. I see. In that case you’re still welcome to the money.”
“No, thanks.” Fargo ushered her down the hall. As they came to the parlor Helsa met them and escorted Susannah the rest of the way. Fargo returned to the kitchen, refilled his coffee cup, and sat at the table, pondering.
Helsa came back. She filled her cup and claimed a chair and stared at him as if expecting him to say something. When he didn’t, she said, “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Care to share what the two of you were talking about? I was polite and didn’t listen but I would dearly love to know.”
“She wouldn’t want me to say.”
Helsa sipped and set the cup down and folded her fingers around it. “She said an interesting thing as she was leaving.”
“About?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes. She looked back and said, and I’ll quote her, ‘He’s a good man, that Skye Fargo.’ You must have impressed her.”
Fargo shrugged.
“Goodness, you talk a body’s ears off.”
Fargo sat back. A notion had occurred to him, and he said, “I’ve got a question for you about the first girl, Felicity.”
“You won’t answer mine but you expect me to answer yours?”
“Is there any chance she might have taken up with a married man before she disappeared?”
It was Helsa’s turn to sit back. “So that’s what Susannah confided in you.” She tapped her cup. “I don’t know. Felicity was attractive, and headstrong. It’s possible, I suppose.” Her brow knit with recollection. “And now that I think of it, my husband was awful secretive about whatever he found out before he disappeared. He mentioned once that he had an idea who was to blame but when I pressed him he wouldn’t say anything except that if he was right it was despicable.” She looked at Fargo. “My God. You don’t think a married man is going around seducing our young girls and then murdering them?”
“Never put anything past anyone,” Fargo said.
“Is that your outlook on life? God, how cynical. If I believed like you do, I’d go around all day in the dumps.”
“I have the cure up in my room and my invite still holds.”
“About having a drink with you? I thought you’d forgotten, what with Susannah’s visit.”
“Some women say it is all men ever think about,” Fargo replied, and grinned.
“After what you said about a married man, I could use a drink. But just one,” Helsa cautioned. “And I want you to promise that you’ll behave yourself. Your solemn word.”
“You have it,” Fargo lied.
9
Fargo sat on the bed and Helsa Chatterly sat in the chair. She’d brought two glasses and he had filled them halfway. Now she was studying him over her glass. He pretended not to notice and gazed out the window at a patch of sky sprinkled with stars.
“You puzzle me.”
“Works both ways,” Fargo said.
“I puzzle you too?” Helsa downed the whiskey without bat-ting an eyelash. “In what regard? I’m a widow who runs a boardinghouse. My life couldn’t be any simpler.”
“You’re a good-looking widow who runs a boardinghouse. And good-looking women usually have a man around.”
“My husband was murdered a year ago,” Helsa reminded him sharply. “Which you seem to keep forgetting.”
“A year ago,” Fargo said.
“More than enough time to cope with my grief. Is that what you’re suggesting?” Helsa tipped the glass to her lips. “Some of us take longer than others.”
“It must be lonely.”
Helsa emptied her glass and held out her hand for the bottle. Instead of refilling the glass, she swilled straight from it, several long swallows. She didn’t give the bottle back. “Damn you.”
“I don’t mean to upset you.”
“The hell you don’t. You want me thinking of him and how him and me used to . . . you know.”
“If it bothers you, leave,” Fargo said.
“As if you really want me to. I’ve seen how you look at me. You have one thing on your mind and one thing only.”
“I do?”
Helsa raised the bottle again. After a couple of swallows she said, “Conniving devil. You plan to get me drunk so you can have your way with me.”
“I’d just as soon you were sober.”
“You are full of it up to here.” Helsa raised a hand to her chin. “You must think I’m stupid or gullible.”
“I think you are as fine a woman as I’ve ever met,” Fargo said in earnest. “Your husband was a lucky man.”
“Quit reminding me of him.” Helsa got up and moved to the window and drank more whiskey. “I ache when I think of James. Some nights I curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep.”
“Maybe you really should go.”
Helsa turned and stared at him while taking another swig. “Bastard,” she said.