Smiling, he walked into the station house and rang the bell to bring the agent out from the back. “A ticket for your next train, please,” he said.
“Going east or west? North or south?”
“Yes,” said Martin. “All of those.”
The agent, who had been working for the railroad since some of the first track had been laid, had heard it all. He did not even bother to ask for the answer to be repeated, nor did he take much notice of the man making the request. People came. People went. He stayed. That was just the way it was.
He adjusted his spectacles and studied the schedule lying on the counter. “Huh.” Turning away, he took a piece of chalk from the slate board tray on the wall and changed the arrival and departure times of No. 462. “There,” he said, returning the chalk to the tray. “That’s the one you want. Forgot to change the times last night. She’s going to north to Cheyenne. That’ll do you?”
“Where’s her end point?”
“That’d be Sacramento. ’Course, once you’re in Cheyenne, you can change trains and go anywhere you have a mind to.”
“All right. A ticket to Cheyenne.” Martin paid the agent, took the ticket, and headed back to the boardinghouse. It was early yet, and there were a couple of hours left before he would be leaving. He could still have breakfast at the Butterworth. The idea amused him, but then he dismissed it as a needless risk. It would have to be undercooked eggs and overcooked bacon at Mrs. Brady’s before he packed.
•••
Roen intercepted Hitch as he was heading home from the hotel. Once Victorine’s body had been moved to Ridley’s surgery, his presence was irrelevant. He still had to send a telegram to Victor, but he wanted to see Lily first. He put out his hand to stop Hitch from stepping into the office. Hitch was determined to blow right past him so Roen said, “You’ve seen Fedora this morning?” That stopped the deputy dead in his tracks. “I thought so,” he said. “Ben wants you to meet him at the hotel. I left him with Ridley in her surgery, but he might already be waiting for you at the Butterworth.”
“What the hell is going on?”
Roen summarized what had occurred yesterday afternoon between Fedora and Victorine and then the events of last night. “Ben will give you details. I only wanted you to be headed in the right direction. I’m going home now.” Roen saw it was useless telling Hitch not to call attention to himself. As soon as he’d finished speaking, the deputy took off running.
Lily was applying the ice bag to Fedora’s cheek when Roen arrived home. “Ham was good enough to knock down some icicles so we have ice chips as well,” she told him.
“He probably enjoyed doing it.” Roen hung up his coat and hat. “Where are the children? I didn’t hear the bell.”
“In the front room. We are just getting breakfast under way.”
“Hmm. Fedora, would you be able to start that on your own? I’d like to speak to my wife in private.”
“Of course,” she said, jumping to her feet. She laid the ice bag on the table.
Lily looked at it and sighed. “Well, keep it on your cheek as much as you’re able. I won’t be long.”
Roen nudged Lily down the hall. She slowed outside the door to their workroom but he pressed her on. “Upstairs. Our bedroom.”
She glanced back over her shoulder, a question clearly communicated in the look.
“Privacy only,” he said.
Nodding, she led the way to their bedroom with no more prodding from him. “Are her bags packed?” Lily asked when they were alone. “I hope she felt the weight of her offense. She’s a hateful woman, Roen.”
“Was,” he said. “She was a hateful woman. She’s dead.”
Lily blinked several times and then lowered herself onto the bed. “Dead?”
“Yes.” He leaned back against the door. “We found her in bed.”
“But—but how? Was it the child? Did she give birth prematurely?”
“No. She was murdered.”
Lily’s mouth opened and then snapped shut.
“There was no child, Lily. Victorine wasn’t pregnant.”
“But you saw her. She didn’t hide it. Roen, I made a gown for her that had to make allowances for her pregnancy.”
