“None that he knows of. The man doesn’t leave town.”
“Maybe he’s waiting for someone.”
“Ben thought of that, but he thinks that person is already here.”
“Oh?”
“Victorine Headley. It seems that he’s had occasion to converse with her.”
Lily stopped soaping his hair. “Did you tell Ben who she is to you?”
Roen corrected her. “Who she was to me.” He took the soap from her and told her he would finish. Lily stayed where she was, her hands resting on the rim of the tub. “I told him all of it. The whole sordid melodrama. I think that’s what you called it, and you were right to name it that. Ben shook his head so often, it began to rattle.” He looked sideways at Lily. She wasn’t smiling. “I’m sorry, Lily. I realize you didn’t want him to know.”
She shook her head. “No. You had to tell him. He’ll question whether he and Ridley should have stood up for us, but he’ll eventually conclude that it was the right thing to do.” She stood. “The water in the kettle is warm, not hot. Let me rinseyour hair.” When he agreed, she retrieved the kettle, tested it on her wrist to be certain she was right about the temperature, and then poured it over his head. He finger-combed his hair to remove the soap as she poured. She stepped away from the tub before he shook off the water and tossed him a towel.
Roen rubbed the towel over his head then stood and wrapped it around his waist. “Martin Cabot,” he said, stepping out of the tub. He used a damp towel left by the girls to finish drying himself.
“Pardon?” Lily held out his nightshirt.
“The man’s name. Martin Cabot.”
“Not an alias.”
“No. Ben doesn’t think so.” Roen poked his head out from under his shirt and let it fall into place before he removed the towel. He handed it back to Lily and sat down to put on his socks. “Cabot doesn’t appear in any of the wanted notices. Ben couldn’t find anything in the Denver papers, and he spent hours in the library reading the arrest records in theRockygoing back as far as Miss Fletcher kept them.”
“Ben is thorough.”
“He is, and he wished he’d asked me sooner because after we’d concluded discussing Victorine, I told him who I thought Mr. Cabot was.”
“And? Don’t leave it there.”
“Her private investigator.”
Lily considered that, her expression troubled and curious at the same time. “Why do you suppose he’s here?”
“I have no idea, but it’s a certainty that she asked him to come. She didn’t arrive with a companion. Perhaps he’s performing that role.”
She nodded, thoughtful but unconvinced. “Perhaps. Did you notice the gown I was working on earlier?”
“I did. Very nice ice blue silk.”
“Satin. But you’re right about the color. I collected the material from Mrs. Fish this morning. She had the pattern cut and some of it basted. Wrote down all the measurements for me so I would be sure to get the correct fitting. Mrs. Fish has a machine, you know, that could have been used to put the gown together, but the person who ordered it wanted every part of it hand stitched. Mrs. Fish gave it to me to finish because I’mbetter at handwork and this customer is particular about what she wants.”
Roen was in the process of moving his chair closer to the stove. He stopped. “Did Mrs. Fish tell you name of this customer?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And?” he asked, mimicking her. “Don’t leave it there.”
“Victorine Headley.”
“Jesus,” he said under his breath.
Lily frowned at him. “There are children who might hear you.”
“Jumpin’ Jesus on a griddle.”
In spite of herself, Lily laughed. “Ham is a terrible influence.”
