This time, Abraham really did collar him. “What sort of imbecile are you?”
“You ought to be thanking me. If you don’t want Lawson using Miss Pelton as leverage for escape, we need to draw him away.”
“And you think he’ll abandon his plans for Lydia and Ingram just so he can watch a fight?”
“I think he’ll investigate what’s going on and allow you to intercept him or get Miss Pelton and Ingram out of harm’s way.”
“And you didn’t think to communicate that before initiating this foolish plan? Lawson is bound to recognize you and realize what you’re doing. Not to mention, I have officers sneaking into that building you just planned a fight in front of. We’re trying to avoid a war with the Deer Creek Gang, not start one.”
Clemens yanked Abraham’s hand off his coat. “Lawson’s familiar with my choice of entertainment and won’t suspect a thing. As for the gang, they’ll be too engrossed in the fight. More than likely, half of them will join in on it themselves anyway. You just make sure you’re in that building before someone shoots the gun to announce the start of the fight.”
Except Abraham couldn’t control when the rest of the officers would show up, and he couldn’t notify them of this plan. Clemens had single-handedly taken this situation from bad to worse. Men might die, and if they did, Abraham would hold Clemens responsible.
CHAPTER37
TIME WAS GROWING SHORT. LYDIAcould tell by Lawson’s agitated pacing behind her.
She’d stalled for four hours reading and commenting on his manuscript and another thirty minutes in brainstorming a list of poetic methods of justice to inflict upon Mr. Ingram. If she managed to stay Lawson’s hand for another half hour, she’d consider it a miracle.
Nothing was going according to plan. The coffee idea had been futile. He kept the pot and only put enough in her cup for one or two sips at a time. And all that time he’d spent away preparing it, she’d not managed to find one suitable piece of anything that could be used to free Mr. Ingram or stop Lawson from overpowering an escape attempt.
Not that she wanted to free Mr. Ingram anymore. She’d removed the gag so they could form a plan, and less than a minute later, she’d stuffed it back in his mouth. Nothing but profanities and threats toward Detective Lawson and her had spewed from his mouth. She was the villain, and he intended to get revenge. Given the man had been convicted of murder, she was willing to take him at his word on that particular threat. Especially now that he’d heard her help Lawson cultivate ideas that made her nauseated to even think about.
“You have thirty ideas written on that sheet.” Lawson jabbed a finger toward the page in front of her. “One of them has to be grand enough to prove to the world that justice should be upheld and not twisted for personal gain.”
“I’m so tired, I can’t even tell anymore.” It was an excuse but not a pretend one. Her head still ached from his yanking her hair, and her eyes felt like they were crossed. “Maybe we should sleep on it for a few hours and then pick one.”
“The sun will be up soon. Patrick is an early riser. He’ll show up not long after that to stock the shelves.”
All the better, in her opinion. Then she could scream for help.
Somewhere outside, a gunshot cracked.
Had the police arrived? Or was the Deer Creek Gang creating mischief outside the building?
Muffled shouting arose, like a riot had broken out in the street.
Lydia jumped from her chair and skirted around Mr. Ingram to yank open the only window. The shouting grew louder, but she couldn’t tell what was transpiring. Another building blocked the view of whatever was happening on the main road. What little she could see of the alley below was empty. With a deep breath to overcome her fear of heights and falling, she leaned out and peered to her left. A crowd of men pressed forward, jumping, yelling, and waving money in the air.
It didn’t look like a riot. But it didn’t look like the police either.
Lawson yanked her back and took her place.
The thought to grab his legs and shove him out the window flitted through her mind, but he straightened and slammed it shut before she could act.
“I’ll find out what’s going on.” He pulled a set of handcuffs from his waist. “You stay put. I can’t risk your trying to get their attention.” He locked one bracelet around her wrist, then forced her to the foot of the brass bed, where he locked the other around a pole. “If you manage to get free, don’t forget that gun will fire at you if you open the door.”
He strode from the room. The handle jostled, proving his warning wasn’t an idle threat. The cord waited to thwart any escape attempt.
Well, if she couldn’t escape, she could at least block the man’s return.
She adjusted the bracelet lower on the pole and gripped the bottom of the bed. With much grunting, huffing, and sweating, she managed to shift the bed so that it stretched the width of the room and blocked the door. The only problem was that left her wedged between the bed and the wall. It was a precarious position to be in should the gun go off, but Lord willing, Abraham would come along and dismantle the thing before that ever happened.
Only Officer Yount made it to the building before spectators gathered for the fight. Eager to prove himself, Yount volunteered to stand guard at the front entrance stairs despite being surrounded by Deer Creek Gang members. He tucked his coat and hat behind some crates and ruffled his hair to blend in with the other spectators. Nothing could be done to conceal his uniform pants, but hopefully the fight’s patrons would be too engrossed in the boxing match to notice.
That left Abraham to enter through the back and face Lawson alone—at least until other officers arrived.
He should wait, but Clemens was already working the growing crowd into a lather. The man was more worried about garnering bets than tempering the crowd until Abraham could reach the access stairs undetected.
