“What can I do for ya?” He said in a raspy voice.
“I need assistance in researching someone’s background.”
“Have a seat.” He pointed to one of the rickety chairs.
Lucy sat at the edge of the chair, holding her skirts close so as not to touch anything in the room.
The man leaned back in his chair, and hooked his thumbs in his dirty suspenders. Reaching for his cigar, he clamped it between his teeth. Lucy looked away with disgust.
“Maybe you better tell me what you want, lady.”
Lucy took a deep breath. “There is a woman in town I want investigated.”
When he didn’t answer, or change expression, she wiped her hands on her dress, and continued. “She hasn’t been here long, but I have reason to believe she has something in her background that may be criminal.”
“Criminal, huh? You mean like she might be wanted by the law?”
Hmm. A genius. “Maybe, I’m not sure. I want to know everything you can find out about her.”
Mr. McNeil took out a piece of paper and pencil and made scrawling marks at the top of the page.
“Give me the information.”
Lucy leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Her name is Angel Hale, but her maiden name, I understand, is Hardwick.”
She smiled with satisfaction at the pencil moving over the paper, as the investigator took down all her information.
Matt and Mark raced up the street toward Nate as he turned the corner.
“Papa, guess what? Angel’s mama is here,” Mark gasped.
Nate frowned. “Her mama?” Her mother was dead, and he was pretty sure the stepmother had gone to Virginia. Sylvia planned to enjoy the hospitality of her sister, who’d had no room for Angel.
Thank God.
“She has a headache.” Mark pushed his brother aside, not to be outdone in the purveyor of information.
Nate frowned as he opened the gate. “Who has a headache? Angel?”
“No, Angel’s mama. She came ‘cause she has a headache.”
“And needed a cup of tea,” Matt finished.
What the devil had happened in his absence? He opened the front door and headed toward the kitchen where Angel worked. As he passed the parlor, he stopped abruptly and stared at the room. Trunks were piled everywhere. One of them lay open, and frothy feminine things spilled out. He frowned, and continued on to the kitchen.
Angel wiped her hands on her apron, and gave him a tentative smile.
“What’s going on, honey?”
Her cheeks were flushed and she chewed her lower lip.
“Um, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” She busied herself at the stove.
“I don’t want coffee, just information.” He kissed the back of her neck and turned her so she faced him. She stood, wringing her hands, her face pale, as she stared at him.
“Come here.” He took by her hand, and led her to a chair. Nate sat, and tugged her into his lap.
“What’s wrong? You’re a nervous wreck, and your hands are cold.” He tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from her bun behind her ear. “The boys said something about your mama.”