Winter Kill

Frank turned to look along the wharf in the direction Hoffman indicated. He spotted her immediately, making her way through the throngs of dockworkers with an assurance that caused them to step aside and give her a clear path.

Fiona.

Chapter 5

Even with the shock of seeing her and learning of her connection to Jacob Trench, Frank recognized the dress Fiona was wearing and knew he’d been right. That was her he had seen in the harbormaster’s office.

Even as he saw her, she spotted him as well. She stopped short as they locked eyes. Only for a moment, though, and then she strode forward as if with renewed determination. When she reached the gangplank, she started up it without hesitation.

“Allow the lady aboard, Mr. Brewster,” Hoffman called to the officer on duty on the deck.

“Aye, Captain,” Brewster replied. He stepped aside to allow Fiona to board the ship.

Hoffman started to leave the bridge to go down and greet her, but she held up a hand to stop him. “Stay there, Captain,” she called. “I want to come up and talk to you…and to Mr. Morgan.”

From the sound of the way she said his name, she wasn’t happy with him, Frank thought. He wasn’t sure why she would feel that way. He hadn’t done anything to offend her, at least as far as he knew. He thought they had parted on good terms the night before.

Fiona came up the steep stairs with ease, and when she reached the bridge, she confronted Frank and Hoffman with her handbag clutched tightly in her fingers. “Are you following me, Mr. Morgan?” she demanded.

“How do you figure that?” Frank asked. “I was here talking to Captain Hoffman when you showed up.”

“And before that you were at the harbormaster’s office when I was.”

So she had seen him, too, or maybe just heard and recognized his voice. He supposed that under the circumstances, she had a right to be a mite suspicious of him.

“I’m not following you,” he said. “I didn’t know you had any connection with Jacob Trench.”

“Mr. Trench? What about him?” Fiona’s gaze darted to Hoffman. “Have you seen him this morning, Captain?”

“You…don’t know?” Hoffman asked heavily.

“Know? Know what?”

Frank broke the news to her. “I’m afraid Jacob’s dead, Mrs. Devereaux. He’s the old friend I told you I lost last night.”

Fiona looked more than surprised. She was shocked. “Dead?” she repeated. “But…but that’s not possible. Mr. Trench is accompanying me to Alaska.”

Frank shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I was with him when he passed, though, and he asked me to take over for him. I promised him that I would.”

The suspicion was back in Fiona’s eyes suddenly, stronger than ever. “What are you talking about? Exactly how did Mr. Trench die?”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it, if that’s what you’re worried about. I wouldn’t horn in on a friend’s business, and I sure wouldn’t kill him over it.” Quickly, Frank explained how the four Haggarty brothers had followed Trench to Seattle from Idaho, determined to settle the score for their cousin’s death. He told her about the two ambush attempts and how the second one had taken Trench’s life, then concluded by saying, “If you’re not satisfied with what I’ve told you, you can come to the inquest and hear the official verdict. It’s at eleven o’clock this morning.”

Fiona’s anger and suspicion had faded somewhat as Frank told her what happened. Captain Hoffman had listened with great interest, too. When Frank was finished, Fiona said, “I don’t think I need to attend the inquest. I suppose I can take your word for what happened, Mr. Morgan. As I told you last night, I pride myself on my judgment, and you strike me as an honest man.” She paused. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to take you along with me to Alaska, though. Why, I don’t even know you. I have no idea whether you’re qualified to take over for Mr. Trench.”

He smiled slightly. “Maybe if you’d tell me what the job is, we could figure it out. All I know is that Jacob was supposed to guard some cargo for you. What is it? Supplies? Mining equipment?”

“Not exactly, although my customers are all miners.”

Frank suppressed the irritation he felt at the way she was making it difficult for him to find out anything. He asked bluntly, “What is it you’re taking to them?”

“Women,” Fiona said.

Frank grunted. He couldn’t hold in the startled question that came to his lips.

“You’re a madam?”

It was Fiona’s turn to look shocked again. “I should say not! How…how dare you imply…Do I look like the sort of woman who…who would engage in such…such an immoral, despicable—”

Frank broke into her outraged sputtering. “You said you’re taking women to Alaska for the gold-hunters up there. What was I supposed to think?”

“Brides, Mr. Morgan! Mail-order brides!”

Frank blinked and frowned, then said, “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed! I’ve never been so…so insulted!”