Martin lifted his eyebrows. “Oh, I thought you surely would have known.”
“Known?”
“The girl. Miss Chen, I believe she is called, no longer works at the hotel. The Shepards employ her now. She’s their housekeeper.”
“The Shepards,” she repeated softly. “Hitch never said. I suppose you know this because of your interest in Roen Shepard.”
“I never said I had an interest in Mr. Shepard.”
“No, but your business is the railroad, and he is working for Northeast. I’m not a fool, Mr. Cabot. It simply stands to reason.”
“I am happy to allow you to draw your own conclusions, Mrs. Springer, as long as you don’t say you heard it from me.”
Amanda looked around for Dolly Mangold. The druggist’s wife had stepped away from the counter and could not have overheard their conversation. “Your business is your own. I’m afraid I must be going, but not before I thank you for your kind words about Hitchcock.”
“You’re very welcome. It’s been a pleasure.” He walked her to the door and opened it for her and then returned to pay for his newspaper. If Mrs. Mangold wondered why he was smiling following an encounter with Amanda Springer, she didn’t ask.
•••
Hitch walked into the Songbird and found Roen where Ben said he would be—set up at a table in the back with men lined up to take their turn in the chair opposite him. Hitch excused himself and stepped in front of George Hotchkiss, the next in line.
“Hey,” said George. “You looking for another job? Maybe you should go to the end of the line, and maybe I should apply to the sheriff to take yours.”
“You do that, George, and you’ll lose your place.”
“Humph. Seems I already done that.” He clapped Hitch hard on the back. “You’re up. You want that seat or not?”
Hitch turned to see that Lincoln Jordan had vacated the chair and was on his way back to tend bar. He wasn’t surprised that Buzz Winegarten’s nephew was hopeful for a job that would get him out from under his uncle’s thumb. He took the seat.
“Name?” Roen asked without looking up.
“Hitchcock Springer.”
That got Roen’s attention. “What are you doing here?”
“Not looking for a job. My mother just cornered me at the jail for a rather ugly conversation. I couldn’t lock her up so Ihad to take it on the chin until Ben walked in and saved me. Actually, calling it a conversation is inaccurate. It was a diatribe.”
“Miss Chen?”
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t. It was a guess. I thought she would have had her feathers ruffled a while back. When I never heard a word about it, it occurred to me that she knew about your affection for Fedora and was fine with it.”
“Well, she didn’t and she wasn’t.” He stared glumly across the table. “She wants you to walk Fedora home. She says since you employ her, it’s your responsibility same as it was Mr. Butterworth’s.”
“I can do that.”
“No. My mother’s wrong. It’s my responsibility to look out for her. And it’s Ben’s if I can’t do it.”
“That’s why you’re doing it? Because you’re looking out for her?”
Hitch’s expression was a tad sheepish. “Mostly.”
“Right.”
“I only came here because Mother asked me to. Now I can tell her I spoke to you and not lie about it.”
“Uh-huh. It’s hard to lie to our mothers. Just to make it a little easier for you, you tell her I said I wouldn’t do it because it would make Fedora uncomfortable. That’s true, too.” Roen set down his pen and squared off the short stack of papers in front of him. “Why now?” he asked.
