“Leave you? With no explanation?”
Remington did not argue. “Phoebe, will you come withme?” His hands dropped to his sides so there would be no question that she was forced.
“Of course.”
Fiona’s cheeks puffed with the strength of her exasperated sigh. “Please. Don’t give me a thought. I’m leaving.” She brushed past them before they could properly step aside and marched down the hall.
Phoebe was reminded again of Remington’s state of mind when he did not comment. She took him by the hand and led him into the parlor. She stopped in front of the sofa but not because she had any wish to sit. “What’s happened?” she asked again. “Is it Thaddeus? Is that why you asked Fiona to leave?”
He shook his head quickly. “No. Not Thaddeus. In fact, he’s out on the porch speaking to the sheriff. It’s Blue Armstrong, Phoebe. He’s dead. Murdered.”
Phoebe thought he could tell her anything and she would remain standing. She was wrong. Her knees folded and she sank to the sofa. “Murdered? I don’t understand.”
Remington joined her on the sofa. He spoke carefully, evenly, repeating what Jackson Brewer had come to Twin Star to tell them. “He never left Collier after escorting Miss Carolina home. In fact, he never left her room. Miss Carolina was with him. Also murdered. The madam found them the morning after they returned. Brewer was notified late last night. He went to Collier, spoke to their sheriff, and arranged for Blue to be brought back. He’s here now because of what he thinks Blue’s murder means.”
Phoebe closed her eyes and pressed fingertips against one eyebrow. Her stomach was roiling and she could taste bile at the back of her throat. “Miss Carolina,” she whispered. “And Blue. Jumpin’ Jesus on a griddle.” She tried to choke back the nervous laughter that bubbled inappropriately on her lips. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I don’t—” She stopped, opened her eyes, and stared at Remington. “I am so sorry.”
He took her hands in his, pressed his thumbs lightly against the backs of them. “I know you are. I am, too.”
She nodded, kept her eyes focused on his. “How?” she asked. “Were they shot? Does anyone know who did it?”
“Only because you asked,” said Remington. “I hoped you wouldn’t. No shots. No sounds. Blue was strangled. Miss Carolina suffocated under her pillow. You don’t want to know more.”
He was right. She didn’t. “This is about the ring, about the robbery. That’s what Sheriff Brewer thinks, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Blue’s been a regular at Sylvia Vance’s house for years, and Miss Carolina was his preference, but Sylvia says he never behaved as if he thought she were exclusive to him. In other words, no fighting other patrons for her favors. Everyone who was in the house around the time the murders are suspected to have occurred has been accounted for. All the girls. All the customers. Names all around. Most cooperated. Brewer will follow up their sheriff’s interviews. He will not let this rest, but there were more immediate concerns to address.”
“Like coming here. To warn us.”
“Yes. A precaution. He can’t be sure their murders are related to the ring, but it would be foolish to ignore the possibility. Apparently Miss Carolina had shown it off even before she showed it to Blue. Someone wanted it or someone wanted it back.”
“What about the man who gave it to her? Couldn’t he have done it?”
“I asked Brewer about him. He didn’t have the name on his list of men who were there. Remember, Blue hadn’t had an opportunity to speak to him about what we learned at the Boxwood. If Blue and Miss Carolina were murdered to get John Manypenny’s name, then the whiskey drummer could well be in danger. Perhaps he’s already met the same end. He is the first link between the ring and men who took it. If I had committed that robbery, I would surely want to find and dispose of Mr. Manypenny.”
“Then Sheriff Brewer must find him first.”
“I had the same thought. That’s why I am leaving with him. I volunteered, but he swore me in as his deputy anyway.”
“Because you know the law.”
“Because I can shoot.”
“Oh.” She worried her bottom lip. “It seems an unlikely coincidence that they were murdered so soon after they returned from Liberty Junction. Why not before? She had the ring then. It doesn’t make sense. And wouldn’t the men who stole it know who they sold it to?”
“Not necessarily, especially if it traded hands, but they might never have asked in the first place. Now they know they made a mistake and have to backtrack.”
“Were they followed? Blue and Miss Carolina. Is that what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
She spoke as if he had not. “Mrs. Tyler could be in danger. Her son. We all heard the same information. What if the robbers were there in the dining room? All three of them, eating Sunday brunch, and observing everything, just as if they had a right to sit among decent folk.”
“We don’t know that they were there. There is more we don’t know than we do. It’s not helpful to get ahead of ourselves.”
“I understand.” She said nothing more. It was the wrong time to tell him she had been thinking about her wedding dress.
Chapter Thirty-two
