Chapter 9
Rosalie and Paden headed down the boardwalk, arm-in-arm, in a leisurely mid-day stroll. At least, that’s what they wanted everyone to think. They were both on guard, preparing themselves for Mr. Holmes and Mr. Tuttle to exit the bank for their lunch break.
Paden smiled over at her. “Any sign of them yet?”
“Not yet,” Rosalie replied, her eyes scanning the buildings. “Sheriff Walton said they leave promptly at noon for lunch and return one hour later.”
“Perhaps they will forego their lunch break today?”
“Sheriff Walton insisted that these men always follow a precise routine,” she assured him, enjoying the feel of his taut muscles underneath his suit coat. “We can always go back into the mercantile and look through the fabric again.”
“No,” he rushed out in an adamant tone. “Absolutely not. That was the biggest waste of time.”
Rosalie attempted to hide her growing smile at his refusal. “I disagree. Besides, I bought you a bag of penny candy for your patience,” she gave him a side glance, “but I’m not sure you deserved it.”
Paden humphed. “My definition of putting a suspect under surveillance is completely different than yours.”
“Yours is wrong, as I tried to explain earlier,” she joked.
Stopping at the edge of the boardwalk, Paden turned her to face him. “I would have sat at the restaurant across from the bank and read a paper until Mr. Tuttle stepped out for his lunch.”
“Wouldn’t the restaurant staff grow suspicious? After all, you would have to be the world’s slowest reader. It doesn’t take you hours to read a newspaper.”
“I can’t give away all my secrets.” A cocky smile came to his lips.
“Let me guess,” she started with an arched brow, “you flirted with them and then left a large tip.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” he teased. “I would be happy to show you…” His voice stopped as his eyes grew alert. “Tuttle and Holmes just left the building, and Tuttle is walking this way.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Be careful.”
When he leaned back, she asked, “Aren’t I always?”
“No,” came his short reply as he stepped off the boardwalk. “Meet you back at the hotel.”
Rosalie turned her attention toward Mr. Holmes as he walked casually down the boardwalk toward the boarding house, which was near the staging station on the opposite side of town. She crossed the street and remained a respectful distance away, pretending to admire the different shops and their goods. Mr. Holmes stopped to talk to a gentleman, and Rosalie became immensely interested in a leather saddle that was being displayed in the store front.
Mr. Holmes laughed at something the man said before he resumed his walk. As he approached the boarding house, Rosalie let out a frustrated sigh. Following him had been a waste of time. He was only going home for lunch. Just then, Holmes glanced over his shoulder just before he ducked into the small alleyway between the boarding house and the bath house.
Increasing her pace, she came to the edge of the bath house and cautiously peeked into the alleyway. Further down the alley, Mr. Holmes removed a brick, placing a small piece of paper into the cavity of the wall, and returned the brick to its original location. He stepped back, brushing his hands on the sides of his jacket, and again looked around.
Rosalie jumped back, hiding herself from Holmes’ view, and swiftly walked to the other side of the bath house. She turned the corner of the building and watched as Mr. Holmes walked out of the alleyway. He appeared anxious as he jogged up the few steps of the boarding house.
Once Mr. Holmes stepped inside, she rushed toward the alley and ran her hands around the bricks where she last saw him. A brick shifted under her fingers, and she removed it. With her other hand, she grabbed the paper and opened it, quickly scanning the scribbled words. “Another gold shipment. Not on stagecoach. Using alternate path. No more information.”
Well, she found the informant, she thought, as she placed the paper and brick back into place. Now she had to wait to see who would show up to read the note.
She didn’t have to wait long. A man’s angry voice came from the rear of the alleyway. “What do you think you are doing?”
Making a rash decision, Rosalie did the unthinkable. She approached the short man, with a hardened gaze, in a huff, despite him holding a knife in his right hand.
“What do you think I am doing?” she asked in an astonished voice. “What is my supposed fiancé doing leaving love notes to another girl?”
“Lady, I have no idea what you are talking about,” the man proclaimed with a scowl, but his eyes held uncertainty.
“No?” she asked, stopping a few feet from the man. “Thomas has been acting distant lately, and then I see him putting a note in the wall.” She glared at the man. “I know it’s for Helen. My friend, Elizabeth, warned me that Thomas would be unfaithful, but I didn’t believe him.”
The man loosened his grip on the dagger. “What in tarnation are you talking about?”
Rosalie brought tears to her eyes as she whimpered, “I’m talking about my future.” She reached into the pocket of her gown and pulled out a bag of lemon drops. “I even bought him his favorite penny candy.” She held up the bag. “Would you like one?”
He frowned. It was clear that he was trying to figure her out. “Listen, you ain’t supposed to be here. You need to come with me.”
“Where?” she asked, lowering the bag of penny candy.
“The boss will need to see you. He won’t be none too pleased when I tell him that you found that note,” he declared, reaching forward
