Before she could change her mind, Tilly moved toward the door. It creaked when she opened it, and a darkened entryway greeted her. She closed the door quietly, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she spotted a woman in a dress that had seenmuch better days watching her from inside what appeared to be a parlor.
“Pardon me,” Tilly said, approaching the room. “Could you tell me where to find the owner of the boardinghouse? Or anyone who works here?”
The woman silently pointed toward the rear of the building. Tilly thanked her, picked up her skirts, and stepped silently into the hallway that led away from the entry. She’d made it two steps before a man blocked her way.
“May I help you?” he asked in a way that sounded as if he didn’t want to help her at all.
Tilly took in his appearance. Ill-fitting suit, smooth black hair, ink stains on his right hand. “Hello, I’m looking for someone who works here?”
“That would be me. Fred Polson.”
“Oh, wonderful!” She smiled at him, and he gave her an awkward smile in return, as if he didn’t make the expression very often. “I have a question for you.”
“I don’t answer any questions about wayward husbands,” he said quickly.
“Oh, no, that’s not—I mean, I am looking for my husband, but not because of . . . well . . . that.” A flush crept up her neck, and Tilly hoped it was far too dark in here for him to notice it. “My husband is Liam Hannan. I just wanted to know if you’d spoken with him today, or if he’d been seen coming in here. To rent a room for us,” she added quickly before he could presume anything else.
“Hannan.” Mr. Polson gave a quick nod as he leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Saw him several hours ago.”
Thank goodness. Relief drained through Tilly, and it took everything she had not to sag against the wall too. “Did he procure us a room here?”
The man scrunched up his considerable eyebrows. “No. We spoke on other matters.”
“Such as?” When Mr. Polson opened his mouth to protest, Tilly added. “Please, Mr. Polson. If it’s about Dutch Rodgers or the hotel, I need to know. I assist him with all of his business matters.” It was a tiny white lie, but Tilly doubted there wasn’t much Liam had kept from her. He wasn’t that sort of man.
Mr. Polson pulled a pocketwatch out and checked the time. “We didn’t talk long. He asked about Rodgers approaching me to partner with him in this boardinghouse, and I told him that I turned the man down. And I advised him to find himself a new investor in his hotel. That Rodgers fellow isn’t someone you want messing around in your affairs.”
Tilly blinked at him, then quickly composed herself. “Thank you, Mr. Polson. Did he say where he was going?”
“He didn’t,” the man said shortly. “I need to get to work.”
“Right. Thank you. I appreciate your time.” She scurried out of the boardinghouse as quickly as possible.
And then she headed directly to her brother’s office.
The town marshal’s office was colder than it ought to be, and she found Jamie with his head buried in a stack of paperwork, clearly oblivious to the fire that was burning much too low in his stove.
He looked up as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Tilly,” he said, a smile stretching across his tired face. “What brings you in here?” As he stood, his smile fell away, almost as if he was picturing the exact sort of things that might cause her to visit him at work.
“It’s Liam,” she said, the worry she’d carried with her from the boardinghouse leaching out through her words. She pulled off her gloves and clasped her hands together to warm them up.
“I’m not surprised.” Jamie leaned against the edge of his desk. “What happened?”
“I just paid a visit to Fred Polson’s—”
That made him stand up again. “You did what? Have you lost your mind?”
Tilly held up a hand. “I know. But it was daylight, and I only saw one other person while I was there. I needed to speak with Mr. Polson.”
She launched into what Mr. Polson had told her, and Jamie leaned back again and folded his arms.
“He’s not the only one. Polson, I mean. I’ve done some asking around, and Rodgers has been busy. He’s been trying to get his money into half the businesses in town, either personally or through some partner he’s brought with him.”
“Paul Morris,” Tilly supplied, remembering how congenial the man had been at supper when she’d met him. “Liam had no idea he was connected to Mr. Rodgers, or he never would have agreed to that investment.”
“I know.” Jamie clenched his jaw, and Tilly could tell he was thinking.
“I can’t find Liam,” she added softly. “I’m worried that either something has happened or that he left town.” It hurt to speak those words aloud, but Jamie wouldn’t be able to help if he didn’t know everything.
