Chapter Sixteen
LUNCH AT DETECTIVE HALL’S PROVED . . . interesting.
His parents and siblings generously took their meal elsewhere, giving Detective Hall privacy to interrogate Ezekiel over fried pork steaks, potatoes, and gravy.
Miss Davis maintained her expressionless mask like a gambler throwing everything she had left into the pot.
Too bad for her, Ezekiel planned on winning that pot and had an unexpected ace up his sleeve in the form of Miss Pelton.
She worked his every answer to Detective Hall’s questions to Ezekiel’s benefit—even if said answer was far from one that met the detective’s approval.
“With a schedule such as yours, is it even fair to pursue a woman?” Detective Hall questioned. “Especially Nora. She spends enough time alone as it is.”
“You make me sound like a lonely hermit, Abraham.” Miss Davis glowered at him over her empty plate. “I’m rarely alone. I have Lily during the day and Father during the evening.”
Miss Pelton laid her napkin on her plate.
“I don’t see the problem. Women are usually attending to house duties alone while their husbands are at work.
At least until children arrive.” Her cheeks pinked as she regarded her intended from across the table.
Obviously she had her own future in mind, but the argument did help Ezekiel’s case.
However, Detective Hall wouldn’t allow it to stand. “Be that as it may, Mr. Beaumont’s job requires him to be gone both mornings and evenings until late. That is no life for any wife.”
“Who says I want to be his wife?” Miss Davis objected.
“That is the man’s eventual intention.”
“If we suit,” Ezekiel corrected. “Just because two people court doesn’t mean they’ll marry. To be clear, I’m not opposed to the idea, but I’m also not willing to put that sort of pressure on a new relationship.”
“We don’t have a relationship.” She clattered two knitting needles onto the table and reached into her bag hanging over the chair’s back.
“Not yet, Donna Anna.” Her annoyed countenance was everything he’d hoped for.
“I will stop calling you Don Giovanni if you stop calling me Donna Anna.” She continued to dig in her bag.
“I suppose I’ll have to grow accustomed to Don Giovanni, then.”
A brown ball of yarn thwapped against the table next to the needles.
Miss Pelton laughed. “You can’t start knitting socks at the supper table because you’re annoyed with the man.”
“It’s better than my stabbing him with the needles.” Judging by the way she picked them up and glared at Ezekiel, she believed the opposite.
Detective Hall cleared his throat. “No one is getting stabbed, and there is no need to knit.” He looked pointedly at Miss Davis, but those needles stayed in her grip.
“We’re finished with our meal, which leaves us with two questions.
Are we splitting directions from here? Or, Nora, do you trust him enough to go to your house and examine that repair you mentioned? ”
Miss Davis took her time in putting away her knitting supplies, and even after she finished, she stared at Ezekiel in stony silence. Miss Pelton and the detective sat quietly, giving room for her to make the decision.
Ezekiel waited too as the woman who had the power to stall his plans or encourage them hid her thoughts.
The more time passed, the more difficult it became not to speak.
He fidgeted in hopes of keeping his tongue in check, but at last he could do it no longer.
“Please, Miss Davis. I promise my intentions aren’t completely self-serving. I truly do want to—”
“Stop. That’s enough. I merely wondered how long you could withstand the silence.” Her victorious smirk knocked the rest of what he planned to say from memory.
“You were testing me?”
She shrugged. “Abraham says silence is an effective interrogation tool, and I already know you can’t be silent. So, yes. I was testing you.”
Beside him, Detective Hall laughed outright. “He wouldn’t last two minutes in an interrogation room with me. He’d be confessing every crime down to the time he stole a cookie from the cookie jar.”
“Har. Har. Har. Feel free to laugh at my expense until I go broke.” Ezekiel feigned indignation, but it was a relief to know she was comfortable enough to instigate some good-natured ribbing.
“I can, however, honestly say I have never stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. They never made it that far.”
Miss Pelton joined in the merriment. “We best not allow you anywhere near my molasses cookies. I’m certain Theresa and Flossie would fight you to the death.”
“All I’m interested in is Miss Davis’s answer.” He leaned against the table. “May I come to your house and determine if I can fix your steps?”
“I’m sure I will regret this, but you may.” Miss Davis’s regal nod punctuated her answer. “It would be nice to not have to lay towels in front of the door or sweep puddles every time it rains hard. Besides, I can always shoot you if you come inside uninvited.”
“Duly noted. No entrance into the Davis house.”
“I said uninvited.”
“Then I will look forward to my eventual invitation.”
“As it happens”—Miss Davis rose from the table, forcing Ezekiel and Detective Hall to stand as well—“you’ll have to come through the house to reach the back. Our house shares walls with our neighbors on either side.”
They caught a horsecar a few streets over, and Miss Pelton deftly maneuvered her fiancé to the front, lending Ezekiel and Miss Davis privacy at the middle.
Miss Davis knitted the entire ride, though her eyes constantly patrolled the interior.
They often lingered on someone in the back corner, but he couldn’t determine who from his angle.
He only knew she endlessly shifted and seemed ill at ease.
“You don’t have to keep looking around. I’m right here,” he joked.
She shot him an annoyed side-glance, then returned to her knitting and darting looks.
“What are you looking for? Or who?”
She dropped a stitch and focused on slipping it back on the needle as she spoke. “Nothing. No one.”
Though she wasn’t pale or trembling, a sneaking suspicion arose. “Do you see the ghost of your nightmare?”
Her head jerked up. “No! I—I just always make a point of being aware of my surroundings. You never know when someone might—” She cut off her words with a shake and focused on her next stitch.
“You’ll have to forgive the state of my home.
I’m not prepared for visitors, and with Father expecting to be gone several more days, I took extra precautions against intruders. ”
“A wise move. Am I to assume Lily is not staying with you while he is gone?”
Her voice lowered. “No, she is not.” She drew a deep breath and straightened. The smile she gave was forced, and he decided he preferred the expressionless mask to the lie she placed before him. “But I am safe enough without her.”
She said it, but he doubted even she believed it. Before he left, he’d see what he could do to make her feel more secure.
The horsecar stopped a few streets south of the Miami Canal, alongside a modest strip of row houses.
He could see the appeal of choosing a home here.
A five-minute walk east would allow her to pass over “the Rhine,” as the locals called the canal, and enter an area so heavily German that it might as well be called Little Germany.
Ezekiel often ventured there for good food, entertainment, and to test his German.
Her proximity to the Bellevue Incline meant she was an easy distance from Miss Plane and the lively entertainment of the Bellevue House at the top of the hill.
He had three days off in a couple weeks, after Sarah Bernhardt left.
Perhaps he could convince Miss Davis to join him on one of those evenings for supper, music, and dancing.
“Will you allow me to escort you properly, now that we are out of church?” He offered his arm and waited.
Miss Davis glanced over her shoulder at the other departing passengers, swallowed hard, and then took his arm with such a tight hold, he looked back.
The same heavily veiled woman from the church stepped down from the horsecar.
That was odd. It was far too long after services to reasonably cross paths, especially on this particular streetcar that wasn’t on a direct route from the church.
She could have visited friends, but deep mourning such as her clothes indicated usually precluded such visits.
Ezekiel angled to get a better view. The woman walked the opposite direction and eventually turned the corner.
The timing was odd, but beyond that, he couldn’t surmise what else might cause Miss Davis’s reaction.
Ezekiel pulled Miss Davis’s attention from the now-empty corner with a squeeze to her arm. “Are you having second thoughts about showing me to your home? I confess there is no going back now. Detective Hall and Miss Pelton are already waiting for us on your stoop.”
“No, but I need to go first.” She didn’t release his arm until they reached the front. “Allow me to disarm the traps.”
“Traps?” He glanced at Detective Hall and Miss Pelton, but neither seemed surprised or concerned.
Miss Davis unlocked and opened the door slowly, keeping her left arm raised as she crouched.
What on earth? There was a clatter of something hitting the floor, then a white-and-blue pitcher swung into her hand with a loud smack.
It rolled off to continue its path, albeit more slowly.
Miss Davis stopped its swinging with both hands, then stepped to the side and held it out of the way as Detective Hall, Miss Pelton, and Ezekiel entered.