Chapter 9
Dorothy’s scream of terror rose to her throat and then died on her lips.
There was something wrong with the disturbing figures that had appeared out of the woods like something out of a Grimms’ fairy tale.
Terrifying though they were, something was also so off that it stopped the terror from taking over her completely.
One creature had horns that stuck out of a lumpy head covered in black fur.
The eyes were sunken, and the mouth hung open like a maw.
Another had red skin that looked remarkably scaly, with slits for a note and thin, reptilian lips.
Its large eye holes held very human eyes, which was probably the most disturbing part of all.
The last had fangs set in a sickly, putrid green face that was dripping what looked like moss.
All of the apparitions roared and hissed and made terrible noises.
“They’re not real!” she cried at the same time that she realized Warren and Michael didn’t look concerned. “Those are just masks, aren’t they?”
She towered over the little monsters and was pleased when laughter burst from them. The three monsters cackled and laughed, holding their bellies as they guffawed.
“We had you good!” the green one cried in delight.
Warren rolled his eyes. “Not the two of us, you didn’t. We met some of you earlier in town. Why are you little rascals wearing masks and scaring people? Is it still about Shakespeare?”
“Yeah. And it’s fun!” the horned creature said. “We’re dressing up like the actors in the play. Mr. Mac showed us the poster and Auntie Sadie told us the story. See, we can be fairy creatures too.”
“Well, maybe you should think twice before you scare folks half to death,” Michael said.
“We’re only having fun,” the one with sunken eyes protested. “We’re just playing a little game.”
“And just what are you doing out here? You’re miles from any houses,” Dorothy pointed out.
“Gathering moss for Andre’s mask,” the horned one said.
“Well, gather it closer to town,” Dorothy said, using the stern tone she usually only employed for difficult people at the office.
The children, none of them much older than eleven if she guessed right, hurried off down the path.
“So much for not being overheard out here,” Warren said, looking around. “Is this place just packed with people? I swear, it seems like Texas has fewer listening ears, even in the middle of town.”
“It does seem there are few places where a conversation is unlikely to be interrupted around here,” Michael agreed. “So, now what?”
Dorothy sat back down and sighed. “I don’t know. Let’s just go back,” she suggested. “You have some idea now of the extent of the problem, don’t you, Michael?”
“Yes, we have something fishy at the firm, and it’s spilled over to this little town in the form of a bully named Brett. I think we can handle this. We just need a plan.”
“No.” Warren stood and dusted down his trousers. “We need evidence. We need to follow the trail of numerical breadcrumbs they have inadvertently left us. That’s the only way we’re going to come out on top of this.”
“Fine, you do that, and I’ll find a way to deal with all of the trouble in this town,” Michael said. He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. “I think I need to have a little chat with Pauline again.”
They set off back to the hotel.
It was a lovely walk, and Dorothy and Warren dawdled a little. Michael steamed on ahead and eventually called back, “You two can catch up later. See you!” and he was gone.
“He’s always like that,” Warren said with a laugh. “He’s hasty.”
“And you’re more thorough and careful,” Dorothy said, slipping her arm through his. “I like that.”
The look on Warren’s face told her he liked that she liked it. She hid a smile.
They walked for a little while, arm in arm.
“We don’t have forests in Unity. We have little copses of trees, and if I sit quietly in one and close my eyes, I can fool myself into thinking it’s larger than it is.
These trees are magnificent. My mother always said that listening to the wind whistling through them was like listening to nature’s poetry. ”
“Did she really?” Dorothy asked, thinking of how her own mother had lacked all sense of poetry. Aunt Sadie hadn’t spoken of such things either. Thinking of Sadie, she wondered where on earth her aunt had disappeared.
“Oh yes,” Warren said. “Mother believes that a life without poetry and music is a life that is only half lived. She’s quite particular.”
“She’d be horribly disappointed in me then,” Dorothy said. “I can only remember one poem and then only the first line. I’m afraid your mother would use me as a cautionary tale for others.”
“What’s the line?” Warren asked.
“Um … let me think …” Dorothy said. “Love is like the wild rose-briar.”
“Mmm,” Warren said. “I know it, but the rest has escaped my mind. I’m sure it will come to me later.”
“You love poetry, don’t you?” she asked.
Could he be the person who had slipped the note under her door?
she suddenly wondered. Would it be something he would do?
It certainly seemed that way. By now, what with his love of opera and his heroics against Brett’s men, she’d come to the conclusion that Warren was very much a romantic soul in the body of an accountant.
“I find that poetry helps me to express myself,” he said a little ruefully. “Without it, I tend to do a very poor job of such things. I speak numbers fluently. Words … I’m less eloquent with.”
“You do fine,” she replied, smiling at him and grinning openly when he came close to blushing. Oh, it was fun to tease him a bit. He totally lacked the arrogance and ego of so many men who’d tried to court her.
They were walking up the drive to the hotel when a carriage came trundling up behind them.
Warren grabbed Dorothy’s arm and pulled her to the side just in time so she wasn’t flattened.
The carriage came to a halt right in front of the hotel and two men got out.
They looked particularly annoyed and hurried inside.
“They’re here,” Dorothy sighed, the happiness from their short walk together sloughing abruptly away. “Now we really have to watch what we say.”
Warren nodded.
They entered the hotel and found Foster and Barnes at the reception.
“What do you mean there’s no reservation for us?” Barnes was demanding. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking annoyed.
“I didn’t say there wasn’t a reservation, if you call sending a telegram an hour before you arrive making one. What I said is that the rooms aren’t ready yet,” Agnes said with a rigid smile stuck on her face that didn’t at all hide how aggravated she was.
“When will they be ready?” Foster asked, sounding bored.
“In about thirty minutes,” Agnes said. “Why not go out to the terrace for a drink? The view of the sunset is rather spectacular.”
“Do we look like the kind of folks who care at all about sunsets?” Barnes fumed.
Dorothy decided to step in. “Hello, gentlemen,” she said.
“Oh, Dorothy,” Barnes said, turning to look down his nose at her. “You’re here. Can you make this?—”
“No, I can’t,” Dorothy said, cutting him off. “But I can recommend having a drink on the terrace. Why not go outside and get one?” She walked to the door to the terrace and opened it for them. “You’ll be very comfortable.”
“Thank you,” Foster said, heading outside. It took Barnes a moment to follow.
Agnes let out a snort of annoyance. “Those two. Their noses are so high in the air, it’s a wonder clouds aren’t hanging from the tip. Why are they here?”
Dorothy shrugged. “Beats me. Does Mac know they’ve arrived?”
Agnes shook her head.
“We’ll go and tell him,” Dorothy offered.
“Thank you,” Anges said.
Warren followed Dorothy down the passage. “Are we certain we want to tell Mac such bad news?”
“Yes, it’s far worse when he finds out on his own,” Dorothy said.
When they reached Mac’s office door, Dorothy was about to knock when she heard a familiar and yet unexpected voice inside.
“… do it, Mac,” Aunt Sadie said. “You know they’re more than capable.”
“But you have no proof, do you, Sadie? It’s all just the ramblings of old ladies.”
“You act like that’s not enough.”
“Well, not to get men arrested with, no, it’s not enough. I would need a teeny bit more.” Mac’s tone was very sarcastic. Dorothy could imagine the look on her aunt’s face as he spoke. She was probably livid and planning interesting ways to make Mac pay.
“Fine!” Aunt Sadie snapped. “I’ll just go and get some evidence for you. I thought if I at least brought you some news?—”
“Dorothy, Warren, and Michael have already found out all about the sheriff and Brett,” Mac said, sounding exasperated. “That’s what I told you at the beginning of this whole pointless discussion.”
“Did they find out about the payments to him?”
Silence. Even Dorothy didn’t know what to say. She frowned and looked at Warren. He shrugged, clearly as confused as she was.
“Yes, see, I found out that he was a penniless runt until he came to Mountain View, and suddenly he had loads of cash to spread around. Out of the blue, this Brett is suddenly someone of consequence. And who do you know with deep pockets and no scruples?”
“And that’s why I need evidence!” Mac blustered.
“Oh, you’re impossible!” Aunt Sadie snapped. Footsteps thudded behind the door, and Dorothy’s heart leaped into her throat, where it beat loudly. She didn’t want to be discovered eavesdropping by her godfather’s door.
“Quick!” Dorothy said, turning and pushing Warren back down the corridor a little way. “We can’t let them know we were listening.”
The door opened behind her and Dorothy turned around. She could feel her face was flushed, but as Aunt Sadie stepped into the corridor, she didn’t seem to notice.
“Dee, are you heading to speak to the old goat? Well, good luck to you. I think he’s even more stubborn than he was a day ago,” Sadie said. “It’s good to see you, Warren.” And she pushed past them and flounced away.
“Oh boy,” Warren said. “Maybe I should?—”
“Don’t even think about leaving me alone to deal with this,” Dorothy said hastily. “Come on. We can deliver the news together.”
They both stopped short of entering Mac’s office, stood by the door, and Warren knocked on the frame.
“What?” Mac snapped.
“Just came to tell you that Foster and Barnes are here and are as upset as they usually are,” Dorothy said.
“Oh good,” he groaned and waved her and Warren away.
“That went well,” Warren said, sounding relieved.
“Yes,” Dorothy said. “You heard my aunt mention a certain person being paid by someone with deep pockets. I think we need to talk to her.”
They found Sadie in the restaurant bar ordering a whiskey. She nodded at them. “Join me?”
“Sure,” Dorothy said. “But how about not where there are so many ears?” She looked across the room pointedly at Foster and Barnes, who were talking at a distant table.
“Best place to do this is where you can see them,” Sadie said, sipping her whiskey. “Unless they have the hearing of a bat, they won’t know what we say.”
“Fine. We overheard you and Mac talking in his office,” Dorothy said. “Who is paying Brett, and what are they paying him for?”
Sadie sighed. “I know what for but not who. I’m guessing it’s someone at the firm, but I could be wrong. Mac has enemies all over. He’s very good at collecting people’s enmity.”
“And what are they paying Brett to do?” Warren asked.
“Cause trouble,” Sadie said. “Didn’t you notice that?”
“I was just looking for confirmation,” Warren said with a nod. “Then Mac’s right. To take anyone down with the power to influence an entire town, we will need unshakable evidence. I don’t suppose you uncovered any?”
“Nope,” Sadie said, draining her glass. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to freshen up before the bonfire in the town square. It promises to be a real good party tonight. You two should come.”
She left the bar.
“That wasn’t terribly helpful,” Warren said with a sigh.
“No,” Dorothy agreed, mulling things over in her mind.
Perhaps there was more to this. She couldn’t see her aunt not finding out something worthwhile.
She always seemed to know everything. “Maybe we should go to the bonfire in town. It might give us the chance to hear or see something that might help. You never know where information will come from.”
“That is true,” Warren agreed. “And it might be fun.”
“I think I should go and put something a little warmer on,” she said.
“Meet back here in an hour?” Warren asked.
Dorothy nodded. She went up to her room and, sitting at the little desk, tried to write her thoughts down. She wanted to put them on paper to make them easier to manage. It was so hard to sift through them when they were all wrapped in her mind.
She had that one line of the poem rolling around in her head too.
“Love is like the wild rose-briar … Love is like a …”
And then the rest came to her. She wrote it out quickly before she could forget it.
Then a wild idea came to her. She should slip it under Warren’s door just as, she had now deduced, he had probably slipped that earlier poem under hers.
They’d communicated for so long by mail that it felt natural somehow to resort to paper and pen now to convey their feelings.
Before she could stop herself, she quickly got up, left her room with the paper in her hand, and slid it under Warren’s door. Then, afraid he would open the door and find her standing there looking foolish, she hurried back to her room.