It Happened at the Fair (40 page)

Authors: Deeanne Gist

She stomped up the steps, him right behind her. She didn’t even stop to cross out her name or light the taper.

He tightened his jaw. If she could find her way in the dark, so could he. He doused the light. Everything went pitch-black. The sound of her footsteps stopped.

He put his hands in front of him, looking for the stairs. She continued up them, albeit more cautiously. He followed the sound and quickly caught up to her.

“Della, please,” he whispered. “Stop this nonsense.”

She made it to the landing and took hesitant steps.

He reached for her hand but captured an arm instead. “Here, follow me.”

She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let loose.

“I don’t want you tumbling down the stairs.” He kept his voice low.

“Let go.”

“Give me your key.”

“I can do it.”

“Give. Me. Your. Key.”

She gave him the key.

Releasing her, he found the door, then the doorknob, then the keyhole. After several attempts, he unlocked the door.

“Where’s your candle?” he asked.

“You are not going in my room,” she hissed. “Now give me the key back.”

He handed it to her. “I’m not leaving until you have some light.” His eyes adjusted to the dark, and he could see her faint outline.

“Fine.” She followed the wall with her hand and hit something. “
Ooof
.” Then continued.

“Do you need any help?” he asked.

“No. Now keep your voice down.” A flame flared bright. She touched the match to a candle, then turned to face him. Her eyes were wary. Her chest lifted and fell with quick breaths. Her hand held the smoking match.

Standing at the threshold, he made a quick scan of her room. A tidily made bed. Her brush-and-comb set on the washstand. Her extra pair of stockings hanging over a peg in the wall.

Finally, he returned his attention to her. “I love you, Della. And rather than proving it by taking off my shirt, I’m going to prove it by leaving it on. Because it is out of great love and respect for you that I leave you in this room untouched and unkissed.”

She gave no indication as to her thoughts. Just stood stiffly by her bedside table.

Stepping back, he paused. “It’s just like mine.”

A beat of silence.

“What is?” she asked.

“Your room.” He pointed to the third floor. “Mine’s right above yours.”

Lips parting, her gaze shot to the ceiling.

“Good night.” He crossed the hall to the stairs, leaving the door for her to close.

CHAPTER

Della lay in her bed, covers to her chin, thanking the good Lord that the room Hilda and Maxine occupied faced the back of the house. If they’d been facing the front and had heard Cullen and her, the game would have been up for certain.

She studied the ceiling. Every creak and scrape told of his movements. He’d said their rooms were exactly the same, so she knew when he crossed to the washstand. When he undressed and hung his clothes on the pegs. When he crawled into bed. When he tossed and turned.

When all had settled, she moved her attention to the window. Was he asleep, or was he looking at the full moon?

I’m in love with you, Della
.

He’d finally said it. The one thing she’d longed to hear. Until she found out he had a fiancée.

Raising an arm, she laid it beside her on the pillow and ran her other hand down her braid. Her father had told her of men who had multiple wives living in multiple towns, none aware of the others. She hadn’t believed him. Had thought he was exaggerating. Now she wasn’t so sure. It would be much easier to do than she’d suspected.

Wanda. Her name was Wanda. She’d wondered. She also wondered how long this Wanda had known him. And how often her fiancé traveled out of town.

He’d said she could question Wanda, then quickly followed it up with an admonition of how insensitive that would be. Was it because his concern for Wanda’s feelings was real or because he didn’t want Della to find out the truth?

He’d discouraged her from trying to discover the truth once before, but she’d insisted. And he’d not been lying. But was that enough to exempt him now?

She didn’t know. She wanted to believe him. Oh, how she wanted to believe him. But her father had said blind trust was for fools. The way a person earned trust was to check on what they said. To demand proof.

But if she confronted his fiancée and she confirmed Cullen had been telling the truth, well, that would be awful. Horrific. She couldn’t imagine subjecting any woman to such a thing.

And even if Cullen was telling the truth, would that excuse him for failing to mention his fiancée? They’d talked for hours and hours over the past four months about everything—their homes, their lives, their jobs. He’d had plenty of opportunities to bring it up. Yet he hadn’t. And that was nothing short of outright dishonesty. And he knew it. Had apologized for it. So, did that make it okay?

Not by a long shot.

Frustrated, confused, and exhausted, she curled into a ball and tried to find solace in sleep that would not come.

CHAPTER

Della refused to give Cullen any more lessons and had been deft at avoiding him. He’d parked himself outside her classroom, but the Board of Lady Managers ran him off. He tried to wait for her in front of Harvell House, but she’d had her name removed from the list. He had no way of knowing if she was there or not.

And aside from all that, time was running out. He needed to make one last push to win customers, and he had to do it now. So if worse came to worst, he’d follow Della back to the Pennsylvania Home for the Training in Speech of Deaf Children Before They Are of School Age and try to woo her there.

In the meanwhile, he stepped into Chief Murphy’s office at the Fire and Guard Station, closing the door behind him. Unlike Grasty, who had a habit of strewing papers everywhere when he worked, Murphy kept everything so clean it made him wonder if the man ever did any paperwork at all. Then again, maybe it was the only part of his job he could control and keep in an orderly fashion.

Running his thumb and finger down his bushy brown mustache, Murphy indicated a ladder-back chair with his head. “The boys said you
sspct
foul play.”

“No suspecting about it.” Cullen deposited the three sprinkler heads, now cleaned, on the desk. “Two of my automatic heads were replaced with manual ones.”

Murphy examined them, reached for his magnifying glass, then examined them again. “Do you know who?”

Though he had his suspicions, they were just that. And he was loath to name Bulenberg on nothing more than conjecture. Giving his trouser legs a tug, he lowered himself into the chair. “The manufacturer’s mark was sanded off, and I wouldn’t even begin to know how to investigate such a thing.”

“Did you
notfy
the police?”

“I told the commandant of the Columbian Guards. He took my report, but I’m sure there are many more pressing matters for him to see to.”

Murphy set down the magnifying glass. “What do you intend to do?”

“About the culprit? Nothing for now. Mainly because a second demonstration is more pressing. Still, I can’t afford for anyone to tamper with it again.”

Leaning back, Murphy tapped his fingers together. “Even if this
scnd
demonstration is successful, it won’t make people forget the last one.”

Cullen pulled on his ear. “What if I had three separate sheds? And all three were lit one right after the other, then all three were doused at the same time?”

Murphy shook his head. “I don’t
thk
you’ll be able to draw the audience you’d need. Not after that last demonstration.”

“I thought of that, and that’s why I’m here.”

Murphy pursed his lips. “I’m listening.”

“I saw in the fair’s daily bulletin that Fireman’s Week was coming up. I was wondering if I could be part of it.”

A hum of voices dipped and swelled in the hallway behind them.

“That’s
sppsd
to be a tournament between firefighters,” Murphy said.

“It’s also been billed as a competition to see which engines and apparatus do the best work. I don’t need to be a contender for a medal. I’d just like to do a demonstration of my apparatus. That way I wouldn’t need to get approval from the director-general. I’d only need to be added to the slate by you.”

Leaning forward, Murphy put his arms on his desk, his chair squeaking. “The tournament starts in ten days. Do you have enough time to build three sheds and three systems?”

Cullen nodded. “If I don’t man my exhibit, which shouldn’t be a problem since no one will come by now anyway.”

“What about materials?”

“I saw your battalions answered a call a few days ago when the Lincoln Hotel’s fire threatened to blow sparks into the Midway.”

Murphy nodded.

“Do you think I could collect some lumber from the ruins of the Lincoln?”

“I don’t see why not. You’d be doing them a favor to haul off
whtvr
you can.” Opening a drawer, he pulled out a piece of paper. “I’ll write Marshal Green a note saying as much. He’s in charge of the
Chcgo
battalion that answered the call.”

“Then you’ll do it? You’ll let me be a part of Fireman’s Week?” He held his breath.

“Of course.” Dipping his pen in ink, Murphy began to scratch a message across the paper. “It’s going to be
dffclt
to keep three sheds a secret, though.”

Euphoria shot through him. “We won’t have to keep them a secret. They could simply be sheds for the upcoming competition. No one need know there are sprinklers inside.”

Murphy looked up. “Clever. Where do you plan to build them?”

“I’ll build right on the lakefront where the competition is to be held.”

Murphy blotted the paper, blew on it, then folded it in thirds. “We’ll give her a try, McNamara. I’ll have my own
bttln
standing by, just like last time.”

Taking the memorandum, Cullen slipped it into his jacket, then extended his hand. “Thank you, sir. I, I don’t know what to say.”

“No thanks are necessary.” Murphy held their handshake. “I only wish I could do more. If you ever decide you
wnt
to be a firefighter, you let me know.”

Releasing him, Cullen gave a wry grin. “If this demonstration doesn’t work, you may find me on your doorstep.”

“Not to worry, son. I’ve every faith that your
sprnklrs
will work.”

Smiling, Cullen placed his hat on his head, then swiped his fingers down its rim. “Yes, sir. I believe they will.”

CROWNE PEN COMPANY EXHIBIT