Ben didn’t understand, but he saw Roen’s indulgent smile and knew that Roen’s comprehension was all that mattered. Ben left Roen and Lily alone on the platform and went into the station. Solomon Winslow had pulled himself into a sitting position on the floor and was leaning against the counter.
“The bastard,” he muttered when Ben hunkered down beside him. “Caught me unawares. How is Mrs. Shepard? Hewas grabbing at her when I interfered. Shame I didn’t get my hands on him.”
“Mrs. Shepard is fine. Better, in fact, than you. Mr. Cabot, on the other hand, is worse. You can thank Mr. Shepard for that. You think you can get to your feet?”
“Sure can.”
To be safe, Ben supported Solomon with an elbow and shoulder and helped him up. “How about sending a telegram for me? Can you do that?”
Solomon flexed his fingers. “Right as rain. All ten.” He sat at the telegraph machine. “Victor Headley, I presume.”
“That’s right.”
“I gave Mrs. Shepard a telegram from him right before that Cabot fella came in and made a fuss. Doubt Mr. Headley’s left New York yet, but he’s taking an express train here.”
“Good. You send this to him.” Ben gave him the message. “Make it from Ben Madison, Sheriff, Frost Falls.”
“Official like,” Solomon said, nodding as wisely as his namesake. “He’ll be sure to take notice.”
Ben waited for the telegram to go before he walked outside. Roen and Lily were no longer in a clinch. They were sitting cross-legged on the platform with one of the valises open between them. Roen was rooting through it while Lily waited patiently for him to produce what he was after.
“You looking for that agreement?” asked Ben.
Roen shook his head. “Found something better.”
Ben stepped closer and looked down past their bent heads into the contents of the open valise. “What?”
“Proof,” said Roen. He continued rummaging through Cabot’s belongings until he came across the item he had pushed to the bottom of the valise after discovering it. When his hand closed over it, he held it tightly and then lifted it out of the case. There was a modest measure of triumph in the way he raised up the glossy black lacquered box with gold Chinese characters painted so exquisitely across the top and along all four sides.
“What is it?” asked Ben. “Besides a box, I mean.”
Roen opened it up to reveal the red silk lining. The box was empty. “Victorine kept some of her jewelry in here. This is hers.”
“How do you know?” Ben asked.
Lily glanced up at him, frowning. “Truly, Ben, it’s obvious that Roen’s seen it before. They were intimates, you know.”
Ben flushed. The curse of a redhead. “When did you become so forthright? It’s Ridley’s influence, isn’t it?”
Lily smirked and turned her attention back to the box. She held out a hand. “May I?”
Roen passed it to her. He spoke to Ben. “Lily’s right. I have seen it before, but what she is about to learn is that it was a gift I gave Victorine on the occasion of her birthday. The characters on the lid represent the Chinese year of her birth. Oddly enough, the year of the red fire rat, although it should not be interpreted through a Western lens. The characters on the sides—if I recall correctly—are harmony, joy, happiness, and prosperity.”
Ben hunkered beside Martin Cabot and produced a pair of handcuffs that he fitted to the man’s wrists behind his back. “So evidence, then, that Cabot was in her suite on at least one occasion.”
“She didn’t give that to him,” said Roen. “He took it from her.”
“Her jewelry was loose in the top drawer of the chest in her room,” said Ben. “I found it there when I searched her room.”
“Victorine was not careless with her belongings. She didn’t trust the help in her father’s house. She would have never trusted the staff at the Butterworth.”
Lily finished examining the box and passed it to Ben. “I think what you have there trumps your circumstantial evidence, Ben, and brings all of Mr. Cabot’s lies to light. He is your murderer. As Roen said, ‘Proof.’”
Chapter Thirty-nine
It was the middle of January before Martin Cabot’s trial came before Judge Miner. Victor Headley was not in attendance. He stayed in Frost Falls long enough to collect his daughter’s body and thank Ben and Roen for their diligence and speedy resolution. He asked to know the details of her murder but his countenance remained as unyielding as granite while Ben described the circumstances of Victorine’s death. Victor did not evince any surprise when Roen told him that Victorine had used the pretense of a pregnancy to provoke a proposal, but it was the first time he revealed a hint of grief, though whether it was because of the loss of a child that never was or that his daughter had demeaned herself in such a manner, neither Roen nor Ben could say.
Victor asked to see Martin Cabot. Ben would not allow Victor to step into the cell with Martin, but he did agree to give them privacy. It was a brief meeting, no more than five minutes, and whatever was said left the private investigator with a pasty face and a tremor in his hands.
