alley?”
“How do you hear all this stuff?” Kopple asked, irritated.
“I pay attention.”
“It was probably some whore who tried to cheat someone. That could happen anywhere.”
“Yes, but the way she was killed. They said she was lying in an inch of her own blood with her belly slit open and everything taken out.”
“Hey, I’m trying to eat here!” someone farther down the counter bellowed. My own breakfast suddenly looked less appetizing as well.
“Sorry,” Kopple said. “The way things work in the real world still amazes my friend.”
Callie suddenly appeared in front of me again. Sweat made her hair stick to her cheeks, and she had circles under her eyes. “You’ve got someone up in your office,” she said wearily. “A woman.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when I first came in?”
“Hey, as busy as we are, you’re lucky I even saw her go up the stairs,” she snapped. Then she shot away down the bar to deliver tea to a demanding patron.
I scooped up the last of my eggs on a piece of bread, wiped my face and headed upstairs. Before the fire, Hank had told me Mother Bennings wanted to see me, so that’s who I expected. But instead Peg Pinster sat on the bench in my outer office, head down, clad in a long black dress with a mourning shawl around her shoulders. Her wavy brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun. In all the time I’d known her, it was the first occasion I’d seen her with no children nearby.
Despite her brood she was still an attractive woman, with the kind of earthy beauty that looked its best in dishevelment and kept husbands honest. Hank had loved her with a ferocity I’d never understood until I met Liz.
Peg looked up as I entered, then stood. “Mr. LaCrosse,” she said formally, and attempted a curtsy.
I scowled.“ ‘Mr.’?”
“I need to talk to you professionally.”
I nodded. “Okay, but you don’t have to genuflect at me. Come on in.”
We went into my inner office. I opened the window-even smoky air was better than stuffy-and indicated she should take the guest chair. I closed the door and sat behind my desk. “I know it’s early, but if you’d like a drink-”
She waved a dismissive hand. “No, that’s all right, thank you.” She slumped to one side, as if it took the last of her strength to simply stay in the chair. I doubted she’d slept at all. “Mr. LaCrosse-”
“What’s this ‘Mr.’ stuff, Peg? I’ve known you for years.”
She forced herself up straight and said with immense dignity, “Because this is business, and business has its own language.” I heard the echo of Hank in that statement.
“All right, Mrs. Pinster. What can I do for you?”
“I want you to find my husband and clear his name. He did not set fire to the stable, either accidentally or on purpose.”
“I know,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her how.
“There’s already talk. Nobody’s seen him since before the fire, and people mutter about arson after I walk past with the children. The ashes aren’t even cold yet.”
“Okay. But I need to ask you some questions about last night. And I need you to be honest with me.”
“Of course.”
“What happened just before the fire started?”
“We were eating a late dinner, just Hank and I. I’d fed the kids earlier and put them to bed. Someone knocked at the door. That happens fairly often; people get into town late and need to put up their horses. So Hank went to the door and answered it.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t see from where I was. Hank talked to them for a minute, then excused himself to go with them. He was gone a long time, and I dozed off. Then Cornelius, our middle son, woke up because he smelled smoke.”
“Any idea how much time had passed?”
She shook her head. “I would assume not long. But I can’t say for certain. I tried to get into the stable, but the fire was already out of control. I had to take care of the kids; I didn’t have time to find Hank.” New tears filled her battered eyes. “He was always so careful.
…”
I went around the desk, sat on the edge and took her hand. “Somebody set the fire, Peg. I could smell it when I went in. You couldn’t have helped; it spread too fast.”
She nodded, and dabbed at her eyes.
“Did Hank seem anxious before the person arrived? Like he was expecting someone?”
She shook her head. “No. In fact, he looked surprised when he opened the door.”
“Did he look up, like the person was taller than him?”
She frowned in concentration. “I don’t think so. I can’t say for sure.”
“That’s okay. Did you overhear anything that they talked about, or did Hank react in any way that seemed strange?”
“He shook his head a lot, like he was answering questions ‘no.’ ”
“Did he seem to be talking to more than one person?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
I nodded. This was about to get really uncomfortable for a whole lot of reasons, not least because I knew for certain her husband was dead and she apparently didn’t. “Peg, I hate to ask this, but have you and Hank been having any trouble lately? Money problems, or, ah… personal issues?”
She shook her head emphatically. “No. I swear to you. The stable was doing fine; we were doing fine. We’d even talked about having another…” Her lower lip trembled as she tried to get the word out. “… child.”
There was no sense in prolonging this. I stood, made sure both the outer and inner doors were closed, then knelt in front of her. I took her hands. “Peg, I have to tell you something. Right now only Liz, Gary Bunson and Angelina downstairs know about it.”
She looked up at me with a mix of hope and dread that could easily break a heart much harder than mine.
“Hank’s dead,” I said, sharp and clear. “He was in the barn when Gary and I went in. He was already dead when we found him. And the fire didn’t kill him; he’d been murdered.”
She showed absolutely no reaction for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was normal. “That large man, the one who works for the officer from the capital, said he checked the stable before the fire got so bad. He said no one was in there.”
“He told me the same thing. He’s either blind or a liar.”
She nodded. Again, it was as if I’d reported nothing more important than a new coat of paint. She said, “Then I’d like to hire you to find out who killed my husband, and why. And bring that person to justice.”
“So noted.” I stood and went back around my desk. “And if you don’t mind, I’ll help myself to a drink. My throat’s still sore from all the smoke.”
That was true, but it wasn’t why I wanted a drink. While I fished the bottle from its hiding place in the bottom drawer, Peg said, “And I suppose we should discuss your fee.”
When I looked up, she was naked to the waist and in the process of undoing her underskirt. Her hair fell loose past her shoulders and made her look young and wild. I jumped to my feet. “Whoa, Peg, what are you doing?”
In the same mechanical, normal-sounding voice she said, “I have no money, Mr. LaCrosse. I’ll pay with what I do have.”
I turned away and looked out the window, not before realizing that a less scrupulous sword jockey would’ve hit the jackpot. Peg was round in all the right places, and all those kids had left very few traces on her body. But there was no way, even if I’d been unattached, that I’d jump even a willing widow the very day after her husband died. “Put your clothes on, Peg. You should know me better than that. You don’t have to pay me; Hank was my friend.”
“Yes, I do. Hank always insisted we pay as we go. Except for his bar tab here, he didn’t owe anyone
