Silver Lies (61 page)

Useless tramped in, arms full of canvas tarps. Cat handed him the brown bottle. "Laudanum. Hold Angel’s nose and force it down her throat. She’ll be just another girl who overdosed to ease the pain of a sporting life. No one will give her death a second thought. Bring her body back and we’ll dump it in the alley. Maybe with the reverend’s. Hmmm."

Useless laid two tarps side by side, rolled each woman up separately, and tied the tops and bottoms shut like sausage casings. Inez’s hope that Angel might gain the knife during the wagon trip evaporated.

On the dark, bumpy ride to Llewellyn’s workshop, Inez’s thoughts scuttled about like damaged mice trying to escape feline claws. She imagined Sands, sipping his last cup of coffee in Cat’s boudoir. Remembered Mark, combing his mustache with extra care before leaving home that last time.

Mostly, she wondered how she and Angel would get out alive.

The sleigh runners squeaked to a stop. The wagon shuddered as Useless jumped off. After a long time, hands snared Inez’s tarp prison and lifted her up. She was carried like a sack of potatoes, then lowered to another hard surface. The canvas parted.

Useless peered at her, dripping nose and worried eyes inches away. She screwed up her face, wishing she could spit at him.

"Huh. Still alive. That’s good." He ripped the saliva-soaked rag from her mouth. Inez coughed, trying to work out the nasty taste. "Holler all you want. No one’s gonna hear you, except me and Angel." He went back outside.

Inez struggled to sit up and looked around. Llewellyn had not exaggerated the workshop’s condition. Everything was ripped, smashed, or overturned, from the canvas stretcher to

the small metal printing press.

Everything but the stove.

The stove gaped open, pouring a flickering red light into the room. It reminded Inez of some medievalist’s vision of Hell. She broke out in a sweat and tried not to think why Useless wanted a fire.

Angel, who was lying some distance away, got laboriously to her knees, then feet, and stumbled toward Inez, hands still tied behind her.

"Right boot." Inez thumped her heel for emphasis. Angel lowered herself, sitting with her back to Inez. Gentle fingers fluttered into the boot. Inez sighed in relief as Angel slid the knife from the sheath.

A muffled thump and curse at the rear door alerted them. Angel threw herself down and rolled away from Inez.

The door squeaked open, and Useless reappeared with another tarp, a rope, and the laudanum. He opened the canvas square and arranged it close to the stove. Then, he approached Inez and lifted her as easily as if she were a case of whiskey. "So, gonna talk about that map?"

He lowered her with ominous care to the canvas surface. "Don’t matter if you do or don’t. ’Cause I have another plan. I’ll just track Chet to the Lady Luck, then kill him when he’s sleeping."

"You think you’ll be able to sneak up on Chet in the middle of the mountains? You really are stupid." Inez injected scorn into her voice, hoping to keep his attention focused on her and her alone.

Angel—use that knife!

"I’m not stupid." Useless sounded wounded. "You always treated me like an idiot boy. All the time, you talked like I wasn’t even there. Well, I was. And I heard. And I saw. I saw you agree to meet Nigel from the bank. Then I heard him asking questions about Joe Rose at the Crystal Belle. So I went to his office before you got there, told him you’d sent me. He didn’t believe me." Useless sighed heavily. "Right after I killed him, you showed up. Sometimes my luck don’t run real good. But it’s changing. Right now."

He pulled out a knife and held the gleaming blade before Inez’s eyes. "Recognize this?"

Inez fearfully examined Abe’s old knife.

Useless switched it to his other hand, wiping a palm on his pants. "If I’d known I was going to get lucky, I’d’ve used this on Emma Rose and saved the one you gave Jackson for now. That would’ve been real sweet."

Angel stirred.

Useless whipped around. "Wanna watch, Angel? You can’t get too close. Don’t want that dress all blooded up. No marks. That’s what Mrs. DuBois said." He walked over and grabbed her hair. Inez’s hopes fell when she saw Angel’s ropes intact.

Useless shoved Angel against the wall. "Sit tight, or I’ll hurt you in ways that don’t leave bruises. You know I can."

He straddled Inez on his knees and picked up the knife again.

She threw Angel a frantic look.
Use the goddamned knife!

"We’ll have some fun first," Useless mused. "Then, I’ll skin you, throw you down an old mine shaft, and let the rats finish you off."

He drew the knife point gently down her throat to her shirt collar. She held still and tried not to swallow. The sharp point left a tingling in its wake. The tingling expanded to pain as blood welled and dripped to the tarp.

He let out a shuddering sigh and surveyed his work tenderly. "You look so pretty in red. Like that red dress you wore when you yelled at me for stompin’ the rat in the saloon. I’m gonna cover you in red before I’m done. Now, lemme see what’s under those duds. The way you strut around the saloon, it must be good."

Placing the knife at the top of her collar, he ripped down the fabric, scoring her skin. The knife snagged on the linen wrapped around her breasts. He tore the shirt open. "So that’s

how you fooled Flo."

He curled a hand over her trouser waistband and yanked.

The first button popped off.

"You’re a dead man." Inez poured certainty into her words, like acid into a wound. "Your life won’t be worth two cents when you’ve outlived your usefulness to Cat."

He flinched. She saw a shadow of the Useless she knew. Then he snickered and tightened his grip. Material ripped and another button popped off. "Don’t think so, Mrs. Stannert."

Inez talked fast. "Oh, not right away. I heard her discuss it with Llewellyn. They need you for the dirty work. But once you’ve sweated out a season of mosquitoes, mud, and rocks on the Lady Luck, all bets are off. Cat’ll own the claim and she’ll be hot to sell. One less partner means more money for her. So what’s to stop you from becoming another corpse in Tiger Alley?" Doubt flickered in his eyes. She pressed on. "I just hope she cuts your balls off first. If she can find them."

Useless slammed her face with an open hand.

Near blind with pain, Inez kicked, catching him high on the inner thigh. He yelped, grabbed her boot, pulled it off, and flung it across the room.

He grabbed her other boot. Panicked, she curled her toes to keep it on.

Useless yanked it off.

"Shit!" He glared at the empty knife sheath on her ankle. Grabbing her by the neck, he shouted, "Where’s the knife!"

He must have seen the answer in her eyes.

Useless dropped Inez and whirled to face Angel, standing behind him. Mark’s knife was in her grip, the blade gleaming red in the stove’s light.

Inez sat up, coughing, and scooted away. Useless tried to grab her foot. Angel darted forward.

Inez heard cloth rip. Useless whirled to face Angel, clutching his right side. Angel backed up. She twisted her wrist and the knife disappeared. Inez blinked, remembering Abe

demonstrating that same maneuver:
Hold the handle so the blade points up along the inside of your arm. Your opponent can’t see your blade, how long it is, or where it’s pointin’.

Inez looked around, saw nothing that would cut ropes. The closest object of any substance was the tipped-over printing press.

Gripping Abe’s knife, Useless stepped toward Angel. She retreated, white skirts floating about her legs. He feinted, then slashed. Red bloomed on her sleeve. She transferred the knife to her other hand.

If there’s a God in Heaven, help us now.

Inez climbed shakily to her feet. Useless, back to her, was intent on Angel. He stepped forward. The printing press, its black metal edges gleaming, now lay to his right. Inez calculated the distance, then charged on bare and silent feet. She hurtled herself at his legs, catching him behind the knees.

Knocked off-balance, Useless slashed wildly. Angel uttered a hoarse cry.

Useless fell, his boot hitting Inez’s ear. His head hit the sharp corner of the press with a squashy thud.

Angel spat at his body.
"Bâtard!"
She bent over in a fit of

coughing.

Inez wheezed, "You talk!"

Angel wiped her face and the knife blade on her skirt, then cut Inez’s ropes. "Only when I trust."

Freed at last, Inez rubbed her wrists.
I’ll live to see my son, play the piano, ride in the mountains.
She felt deliriously happy. "Why didn’t you yell for help? Tell someone about Cat, the counterfeit?"

"Scream?" Angel shrugged. "Ah. Women scream on State Street, day and night. No one cares. And tell who?
Policier? Monsieur
Harry? I trust only Abe. I don’t tell him.
Pourquoi?
Until you tell me, I didn’t know he was in trouble." She touched Inez’s hand. "You and I, we share secrets. You know I talk. I know about your husband. We keep quiet between us, yes?" The speech sent her into another spasm of coughing. The red deepened on her dress.

Inez forced her to sit on the tarp. "You’re hurt!"

Angel pointed at Inez: You too.

"It looks worse than it is." Inez touched a sleeve gingerly to her throat and examined the smear. "Not much blood. But you—" She looked with concern at the dark red patch. "We need to stop that."

Inez cut strips of canvas, binding Angel’s arm and ribs. Angel began to shiver, despite the stove. Inez glanced around. "I don’t see much we can use for fuel. We’ll freeze if we stay. Besides, you need those wounds tended."

Inez ransacked Useless’ body, taking gloves from his pocket and socks and shoes from his feet. Inez considered removing his jacket, but it stank, soaked with blood and body fluids.
Better for the dead.
His thick outer coat had escaped the bloodbath. Inez layered his footgear over Angel’s dancing shoes.