Never mind her business acumen and hard work on behalf of the music store. Nico, with his rarified connections and aspirations, would immediately end their business relationship. Inez and Antonia would have to move. And it wouldn’t stop there. If that and all the rest of Inez’s past came out publicly—former saloon-owner, divorcée with an adulterous background, questionable morals—and let’s not forget that I am responsible for several deaths. All justifiable, but still.
She would never live it down.
Word would inevitably get to the women in San Francisco she had formed business connections with. Inez thought of Mrs. Young—a milliner she had recently agreed to finance—the printers Fleury, Mrs. Nolan, and the laundresses Mollie and Bessie May. Such revelations would spell the end of those partnerships and others. It would be the end of her new life, and Antonia’s as well.
They would have to leave San Francisco.
But for where?
“Jesus.” Inez put her head in her hands. “If you didn’t tell him, how did he find out?”
“I don’t know,” said Flo, miserably. “But he has a man with him, hired from Leadville, who came with us and is also looking for Robert.”
“Who?”
“His name is a mouthful, Wolter Roeland de Bruijn.”
Inez frowned. “From Leadville?”
Flo nodded. “He came to town after you left, I think. Anyhow, he, or someone else, dug up a lot of information. As I said, he’s looking for Robert. He’s looking for you, too, because Harry has this crazy notion that you will be able to find Robert. And there is another complication.”
Inez slowly lowered her hands to the table, palms flat on the surface as if to draw strength from the warm, polished wood. “Another complication? What, then. Spit it out, Flo.”
Flo sighed and the worry lines deepened, making her look older. “Phillip Poole, the father of Robert’s Leadville fiancée, Vivian. He’s here too. I heard Harry and de Bruijn discussing this, when they thought I couldn’t hear. Poole is also looking for Robert, and he’s sworn to shoot him on sight, if he gets the chance. So, we cannot waste any time.”
Inez stared hard at Flo, waiting, in case there was more. She finally said, “Anything else I need to know about this convoluted, sorry situation, Mrs. Sweet?”
Flo leaned forward. “The upshot is this. We need to find Robert, before de Bruijn or Poole does, and convince him to at least talk to Harry, warn Robert that Poole is here, and that he is in danger for his life. If we don’t succeed, who knows what Harry will do or think? If de Bruijn finds him first, Harry might think we lied about not knowing where Robert was, that we knew all along and helped hide his son. And if Poole finds him first and carries through on his threat, I don’t even want to think what Harry might do. Neither outcome bodes well for you or for me!”
Chapter Six
Inez’s mind skittered around like a trapped rat. “Back up. This agent of Harry’s, what is his name, again? De Broin? Broon? Brown?”
Flo wrinkled her nose. “Mostly I hear others say ‘de Brown,’ but it isn’t exactly that. He answers to it, or anything close.”
Inez continued. “Tell me about him. Is he a private detective? A Pinkerton?”
“I don’t know. All I know is he ‘finds’ things. At least, in Leadville, that was his service. If you, say, lost money to a confidence man, or your wife to a lover, you’d go to him.” She shrugged one shoulder. “He doesn’t draw a line between the paupers and the silver barons. If they are willing to pay the price he names, he’ll find whatever was lost. Well, Harry lost his son, so…”
“Where is this de Bruijn now?”
“Right now? I left him with his newspaper in the lobby of the Palace Hotel where we are all staying. I told him Harry said I could go shopping for hats. He waved me away, saying I should be back before the dinner hour.”
Realization slapped Inez like a cold ocean wave. “He could have followed you here! If he and Harry didn’t know where I was before, they will now.”
“No! I was very careful. I went to a couple of millineries first before taking a hack.”
Inez was not convinced, but there was nothing to do about it now. “Well, perhaps there is nothing to worry about, but at least forewarned is forearmed.” But armed with what? She brushed that question aside. “Describe Robert for me.”
“He’s the spitting image of Harry,” said Flo. “Just picture Harry twenty years younger, and you’ll have him.”
Inez shook her head. “I need details. Mustache? Dark hair? A limp? A lazy eye? Give me something to work with, Flo.”
“I don’t have a likeness,” she snapped, then lowered her voice again. “For what it’s worth, he is about as tall as you are, dark hair, light eyes, well-formed, prone to shooting off his mouth without thinking about the consequences.”
“Which describes a great many young men,” Inez said under her breath.
Flo pondered a moment longer. “The only other thing I can tell you won’t help one whit, unless you’re planning on stripping down every likely young man. One of my girls told me he has a birthmark, here.” Flo passed a hand over her left breast. “Quite large. A firemark, almost purple.”
“You’re right. That will not help me.” Inez looked at the door leading to the showroom. Nico’s voice, words indistinguishable, the tone amiable, filtered through. She thought she heard John Hee reply.
“You should leave,” said Inez abruptly. “I don’t like the idea of you staying here a moment longer than necessary. I will ask some of the musicians I know and see if the name Robert Gallagher sounds familiar. I’ll take a good hard look at the Roberts of my acquaintance. Keep in mind, I can’t go chasing after these gentlemen, I must wait until they come to me. I have a business to run, and generally stick close to the store. I am here in the office in
