The Last Honest Seamstress (44 page)

She wished she could confide in Elizabeth about Coral's suicide, but she realized Elizabeth was comforted by the thought that all that had happened was simply a tragic twist of fate. To reveal otherwise would be to lay on Elizabeth a new grief, and tarnish Coral's memory. No, sometimes secrets must be kept for the benefit of others. But the isolation was almost unbearable. She yearned to unburden herself.

Elizabeth was so stunned and beside herself with grief, she barely had seemed to listen when Fayth told her Drew had left. She didn't question, merely murmured something about it being for the best. But she was too distraught to even look relieved.

Fayth pushed her thoughts back to the immediate task as she flew into her bedroom.
Inconspicuous
. She must be as inconspicuous as possible if she hoped to avoid being caught sneaking into Mr. Tetch's room. Why couldn't she be more adept at spying?
 

The tick of the clock filled the room, hurrying her on. Mr. Tetch would have already left for Lou's house. It was Wednesday night. A week ago Coral had been her accomplice. She pushed the thought away. She had just two hours to locate the cash Mr. Tetch had to have stolen. Tetch had certainly hidden the real books and receipts somewhere. He was much too organized and arrogant a man to have destroyed them.
 

She stepped out of her slippers and into her boots, mentally going over the plan again. She knelt down, reached under her mattress, and pulled out Tetch's keys. They rattled in her trembling hand. She'd never make a good spy, but tonight she must try. She grabbed her shawl and headed for the coach house.

Con looked at his watch. Fayth had been in the house less than ten minutes before emerging again, wearing the same dress, but stripped of her accessories. Her actions spoke of hurry. She glanced around as if she suspected someone of following her, or at least taking note of her movements. She dropped something and stooped to retrieve it..

Con's heart pounded wildly, thumping inside his chest like a caged animal. If Fayth didn't look like a woman on a clandestine rendezvous, he didn't know who would. Damn! He mounted his horse and prepared to follow her, half fearful of discovering her destination. What if she met Drew? What did he do then? He wanted to beat that dandy unconscious, take Fayth away. Make her his, physically, intimately.
 

He frowned, confused by her appearance. Why would a woman going to meet her lover take off her finery?
 

Fayth untethered their horse and carriage. The wind gave her skirt a flip. She was wearing her work boots, with so fine a dress? It didn't make sense. She climbed into the carriage and pulled out of the drive. Con cooed to his horse and moved out after her.

Fayth left the carriage in a stall at the wharf and walked the three blocks to the Sealth Men's Hotel, pausing to summon her courage before opening the door and plunging into the lobby. She quickly found Tetch's room. Alone in the hall, she rapped confidently on his door.

"Mr. Tetch? Are you at home? It's Mrs. O'Neill."

When no one answered, she tried the door. To her surprise, it swung open. So much for the wasted effort of stealing the hotel key. She slipped cautiously inside, closing it behind her. She leaned against the backside of the door, head back, eyes closed, heart pounding, organizing her thoughts and imagining the task before her. She didn't dare turn on a light, which meant she must work quickly, before the receding light of dusk disappeared completely. First, she must inventory the room to ensure she left it as she found it. She opened her eyes and began. Tetch's bed was neatly made, his nightstand clear.

Her eyes widened as she took in the dresser and the armoire that stood in the corner. Drawers were open, wardrobe doors askew. Goosebumps sprung up on her arms. Her first wild thought was that the room had been ransacked and Mr. Tetch robbed. But when she had forced a calming breath and looked around the room again, a more sickening thought twisted her stomach—Mr. Tetch had fled Seattle.
 

The drawers were clearly empty and even in the fading light it was obvious there were no personal effects left. No thief would bother stealing clothes and shaving mugs. Tetch had run and most likely taken Con's fortune with him. Impulsively, she turned toward the door, intent on heading to Con's office. Just as suddenly, she stopped.

Surely Tetch was smart enough to clear his things from the office first. Wouldn't his personal effects be the last thing he'd stop for on his way out of town? She walked back to the middle of the room and plunked onto the bed, stunned. She reached her own conclusion—Tetch was guilty. What else explained the circumstances? What or who had tipped him off? She sat for a moment, her mind blank.
 

When the initial shock wore off and rational thought had returned, she realized there was nothing to do but look for clues as to where he was headed. If she didn't search his room now, she wouldn't get the chance again, certainly not before any clues were erased. She turned on the light. There was no need for secrecy now. Mr. Tetch would not be returning. With wooden steps, she moved to the dresser and began pulling open drawers.

Con took a seat near the window at the tavern across the street from the Sealth Men's Hotel, seating himself where he could watch the hotel door. He'd just give them time to settle in and get cozy. Maybe he should say intimate. His heart raced. His stomach turned at the thought of Drew touching his Fayth. He ordered a beer to calm his nerves. He had to know for certain the nature of their relationship. His tortured thoughts haunted him, and there was only one way to exorcise them—catch Drew and Fayth in the act, or discover Fayth's innocence. Hell, a man had a right to know. If they were guilty, if she preferred Drew, he'd bow out. But not before he beat the shit out of Drew.

He tipped his beer up and swigged it down in a single raise of his elbow, banging the glass on the table when he was finished. Time to find out what was going on. He pushed his chair back and walked across the street to the lobby of the Sealth Men's Hotel.

The lobby was empty, no sign of Fayth. What did he expect? That she and Drew would be having a pleasant conversation in the lobby? The desk clerk looked bored as Con strode over and greeted him with a smile. "Slow night?"

The clerk looked him in the eye. "About normal. Never gets busy this shift. May I help you?"

"Yeah. Friend of mine's staying here. Thought I'd stop by and call on him, but I don't know his room number."

"Name?" The clerk reached for his guest register, ready to search the pages.

"Drew Hanbrough."

"Hanbrough?"
 

Con nodded. The clerk looked up, setting the register aside. "Sorry, mister, but you missed him. He checked out close to a week ago." The clerk nodded for emphasis, maybe sensing Con's disbelief.

Con frowned, confused. What the hell was going on? What was Fayth doing at the Sealth Men's Hotel?
 

"Thanks for the help." Con left the hotel and returned to his seat in the bar across the street. There was nothing to do now but wait for Fayth to come out. He'd just settled in and ordered another beer when a light came on in a room in the hotel across the street. Wasn't that Tetch's room? Had they rented it again so soon? A slender figure of a woman was silhouetted against the shade. Fayth?

Frustrated, Fayth plunked onto the bed. Half an hour of searching turned up nothing. Silas Tetch was gone, seemingly without leaving a clue behind as to his destination. Quietly, she left the room and made her way to the lobby. The clerk at the desk had no record of Tetch checking out. Seems he had skipped out on them, too.
 

Sick at heart, she made her way to the exit. All her dreams of saving Con's business ebbed away like the waning tide. What was she going to do now? How would she explain to Con what had happened? She couldn't let herself picture the look in his eyes when he found out all that had gone on in his absence. Maybe he would forgive her behavior. Maybe sending Drew away would be enough proof of her love. But would Con believe that she meant to send Drew away before she found out what he'd done with Coral? Would he believe that she loved him before that? Would he forgive?
 

Tomorrow, she would check the coach station and the shipping lines for news of Mr. Tetch, but she wasn't optimistic she'd find anything out. She opened the hotel door and descended the steps, more fearful than she had ever been. Afraid that she was losing the only thing that mattered—Con's love.

Con spotted Fayth as she descended the steps of the Sealth Men's Hotel. After half an hour alone with his thoughts while he nursed a beer, certain things became clear. Coral going back to work at Lou's. The timing of Drew's departure and Coral's death. The girl's obvious admiration of the bastard. Drew had fathered Coral's child and fled town when things went awry. Did Fayth realize what had happened? Did she throw Drew out, or did he leave on his own? Con didn't know, but he hated the man for what he'd done to Coral, and to Fayth.

Damn him! What had this betrayal done to Fayth? Would she return to her distant, removed self? Close Con out again? It was too early for relief. For all Con knew, Fayth might still believe Drew innocent. And even Drew's departure didn't guarantee she'd throw her affections his way. In the meantime, what was she doing in Tetch's room?

Fayth reached the sidewalk. Con threw some coins on the table and prepared to follow her.

It was dark outside when Fayth left the hotel. Familiar goosebumps dotted her arms again. Late spring evenings extended into what could decently be considered night, but daylight still disappeared shortly after nine. Too bad Mr. Tetch hadn't liked to take his pleasures earlier in the evening. She laughed grimly to herself—tonight he hadn't taken them at all. She started toward the wharf. Outside in the dark unaccompanied, the walk to the wharf suddenly seemed daunting and fraught with danger. She straightened her spine and tried to walk bravely down the sidewalk. It wouldn't do to look like a victim.
 

Abruptly, she lost her nerve and did an about-face. The shop was less than a block away. She would spend the night there rather than risk the walk to the wharf, and pick up the carriage in the safety of morning light. The horses were boarded safely enough for the night.

Con walked nearly half a block behind her on the opposite side of the street. She turned around suddenly, catching him off guard. He had to duck into a doorway to avoid being seen. What the—?
 

It took him a minute to realize that she was heading for the shop.

Fayth inhaled deeply as the shop came into sight down the block, picking up her pace in anticipation of safety. Intent on not spending one additional minute on the street, she reached into her pocket for her own set of keys. Bawdy music spilled into the street from the many taverns along the row. She was crossing back in front of the Sealth Men's Hotel when two rowdy young men emerged through the door into the street in front of her. She took a step back, waiting for them to clear the sidewalk. One of them caught sight of her immediately. His face beamed in apparent recognition.

"Joe!" he said to his companion. "Look what we got—one of Lou's girls walking the street."

It took Fayth a minute to realize they were talking about her. She laced her keys through her fist in anticipation of trouble. The two men came toward her.

"You boys are mistaken. I'm not one of Miss Gramm's girls."

"Sure, that's what they all say to men they don't consider gentlemen, isn't that right buddy?"

"It is. The willing arms of Lou's boarders aren't so open to those of us without means, but it doesn't mean we don't dream about them just the same."

Fayth stood her ground boldly. "I am not a prostitute."

"Lou's bouncer ain't never let us past the front door, but I've always had a hankering for one of her refined ladies."

"I'm not one of them. Now, step aside so that I may pass or I will have to yell for an officer."

"The lady does protest, but she wears one of them fancy dresses that Lou's girls wear out on their Saturday carriage rides." He had a drunken gleam in his eyes. He took a step toward her. "You see, little lady, we may not be able to touch, but we always look."

"Looks like tonight we're gonna do better."

The man lunged for her. Fayth screamed and stabbed at him with her keys. Her attacker wasn't expecting her to defend herself and fell back surprised. Fayth saw her opportunity and took off running past them before they could react. She heard them cursing behind her and then footsteps pounded after her. From their tenor she knew they were some distance behind her. The entrance to the underground lay just ahead. If she could make it down, she could lose them long enough to get into the basement entrance of the store. She had the advantage of knowing her way, even in the darkness.
 

She swung into the stairwell, her feet pounding down the steps. She wished for the quiet whisper of her slippers. Her boots clattered noisily. She tripped on her skirts several times before reaching the bottom of the stairs. Footsteps rang out behind her. She picked up her skirts and started running. Laced much too tight for running, she panted and gasped for breath. Despite her trouble drawing a breath, she hiked her skirts up and lengthened her gait. Her basement door was no more than fifty feet away. The footsteps gained on her. Her pulse raced in her ears. She couldn't get a breath, her corset confined her. She felt ill. Intent on reaching the door, she didn't bother to watch her feet. She stumbled in a hole in the uneven walk and went tumbling, screaming as she fell. She hit the ground with enough force to knock the remaining wind out of her. Her ears rang and her eyes filled with static as she slumped into a faint.