Ben lifted it while Roen swept an arm under it. Two sweeps and he found what he was looking for: Victorine’s palm pistol. It was loaded. Ben dropped the mattress back in place.
“Not a convenient place to keep it,” said Ben. “Under her pillow would have made more sense.”
“Not if she thought she might blow off her own head.” Roen tucked it into a pocket. “Nothing in here to suggest that Cabot was ever a visitor.”
Ben nodded. “It would have been a good beginning to catch him in a lie.” The car rattled and shook as the late morning train pulled into the station, snorting and squealing and steaming until it finally fell silent. “Let’s go. I have to send my own telegram to Victor Headley, and you can explain the broken window to Solomon.”
Roen chuckled. “Thanks.”
They stepped out of the private car and jumped down to the gravel bed. Rather than walk around the train, they took the shortcut of climbing aboard and getting off on the other side. Roen was the first to hop to the platform; Ben was on his heels. Greeted by the sight of Lily standing as if rooted in place, a valise in each of her white-knuckled fists, neither of them moved. At first, Lily took up the whole of Roen’s vision and he didn’t see Martin Cabot at her back, but Ben had no such problem. He saw Cabot as part of the whole from the beginning.
A porter appeared, stepping down from the adjacent car. The man had a paisley carpeted valise in one hand. He held out the other hand to the passenger standing on the lip of the stair. It was Evelyn Gray come home from visiting her daughter and new granddaughter in Denver. Mrs. Gray landed lightly on the platform and kept her balance, thanks to the porter. Seeing nothing at all untoward in the tableau near the station entrance, Mrs. Gray waved gaily at Lily.
“Set down one of the valises,” Martin Cabot whispered in Lily’s ear, “and wave.”
Lily did as she was told. “How are your daughter and the baby?”
“Fit as fiddles, both of them. Now I’m anxious to see that my husband hasn’t starved while I was gone. He can boil water and make an egg seven different ways, but that is the extent of his skill in the kitchen.”
Lily knew she was expected to smile and she did. She was grateful that Mrs. Gray’s thoughts were so occupied with getting home to her husband that she didn’t think to ask where Lily was going with the valises or why there was a man standing at her back while her husband and the sheriff stood some ten feet distant.
“I feel confident he has survived,” said Lily, and she bade Mrs. Gray good day. Ben and Roen did the same. Mr. Cabot nodded in her direction. Mrs. Gray took her valise from the porter, thanked him, and began walking down the platform toward town.
The porter took a step toward the station house, but Mr. Cabot shook his head. “Mr. Winslow stepped out to deliver a telegram. You can take my valises, though. I’m just saying farewell to the Shepards and Sheriff Madison.”
“Very good, sir.” He approached and lifted the valise that Lily had set on the platform. She held out the other one for him to take. “Train’ll be leaving in a few minutes. We’re not crowded. You can take a seat anywhere.”
Cabot nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be along directly.” When the porter boarded, Cabot directed his attention to Ben and Roen. “I intend to board this train. I had no plans for Mrs. Shepard to accompany me, but your presence here has changed that. I will gladly let her go at the next stop if there is no sign that you’ve followed; otherwise I cannot guarantee her safety. It is all around unfortunate that you arrived when you did. I saw which way the wind was blowing when you questioned me at Mrs. Brady’s. I decided then it was best for me to leave. There is no evidence of wrongdoing on my part because I committed no wrong, but I am a stranger here and I am familiar with how that stacks the most circumstantial of evidence against me.”
“He’s lying,” said Lily. “He bought his ticket before you interviewed him this morning. I have the time from Solomon, who is lying unconscious behind the counter. He wouldn’t allow me to exit the station because he suspected I was going to find you and tell you he was planning to leave town. What reason does he have to hurry off except that he murdered Miss Headley?”
“She makes an excellent point,” Ben said calmly.
“My arrangement with Miss Headley was concluded,” said Cabot.
“Odd you didn’t mention that when we spoke,” said Roen. “We read through several drafts of your contract with Miss Headley. According to what was set down, your arrangement would be concluded with the birth of her child. That must have amused her because there could be no other reason she would insist on it.”
“Drafts,” said Cabot. “The final agreement had no such terms.”
“Do you have it?” asked Ben.
“In one of the valises that the porter just put on the train.”
“May we look at it?”
“I’m feeling reasonable, gentlemen, because I truly do not wish to be burdened by Mrs. Shepard’s presence. I do not trust her in the least. Yes, you may look in my valises. The agreement is in an inside pocket. I suggest you hurry. Mrs. Shepard, tell them what I have pressed to your back.”
“I believe they know you have a gun, Mr. Cabot. My husband knows I would not be standing here otherwise.”
“Just so.” He waved his free hand toward the train. “Go on. Quickly.”
Ben indicated that Roen should investigate. Ben kept his gun hand hovering near the butt of his weapon. They all knew he wouldn’t use it while Lily was Cabot’s hostage. While Roen followed the route the porter had taken and disappeared in the car, Ben said, “You’re right not to trust Lily Shepard. You have no idea what she’s capable of. If you board the train with her, I cannot guarantee that you will arrive safely at the next stop.”
“She’s a deep one, I’ll give you that.”
Ben nodded, smiled reassuringly at Lily, although he wondered if he didn’t require more reassurance than she did.“Where do you imagine you can go, Mr. Cabot, that you won’t be found? Victor Headley has vast resources.”
“Your mind is made up that I am guilty. I’m not. Your slim resources would be put to better use questioning your deputy.”
