A Longer Fall (Gunnie Rose #2)(28)

“Jake would have been waiting for that to happen,” I said. “And he had his gun.”

Eli took a deep breath. “My next guess is that someone was searching through the wreck for the chest and spotted Jake with a likely looking crate. Approached him, maybe to ask if he needed help. That person killed him and took your cargo.”

“Do you know of anyone who would fit that bill?” I asked.

“There are many, many people here in Sally who would do that.”

“Eli, this is like Mexico all over again. You’ve hired me to help you and then not given me the information I need to do a good job. You better rethink this soon. Is there a third thought?”

Eli’s jaw was set hard. He stared at me as if he was trying to send his ideas into my head, because he didn’t want to say them out loud. “Yes,” he said. “My third thought is that the people for whom it was intended stole it, hoping they wouldn’t have to honor the agreement that…”

A knock at the door interrupted Eli. We’d both been concentrating on the conversation, keeping our voices low. I jumped. I’d been too intent.

I had a gun in my hand in a flash, and I nodded to Eli.

“Who is there?” Eli used a calm voice, though I saw his hands were spread and open. He was ready to use magic.

“I brought your drinks, Mr. Savarov.” The voice was a little familiar.

We hadn’t ordered any drinks.

“Leave them outside the door, please,” Eli said pleasantly.

“Sorry, can’t leave glasses on the floor,” said the voice. “Please, sir.”

If he hadn’t added the last two words, we would have told him to take the drinks back. But there was a desperate note when he’d said “please” that made me believe this man was afraid. I met Eli’s eyes and nodded. I got up from the bed and went silently to the door, stood to the left of it against the wall. Eli went to the door and opened it, stepping back quickly as he did.

The man outside was the waiter I’d noticed earlier. He’d served us at breakfast. He stepped into the room, his eyes going from side to side to find me, and when he did he had a gun at his head.

“God almighty, don’t kill me,” he said.

Eli shut the door behind him and took the tray with the two glasses from the man’s hands. He placed it carefully on the little table by the easy chair. “Now, why are you here with drinks we didn’t order?” he said.

“Tell her to put her gun down, please, sir,” the man said.

“My name is Eli Savarov, and this is Lizbeth Rose,” Eli told him. “What’s your name?”

“James Edward Johnson, sir.” The waiter took a deep breath, seemed a bit more composed now that he saw we weren’t going to kill him straightaway.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’ every time you speak to me,” Eli said. “What do you need to tell me?”

“I had to talk to you in private, and this was the only way I could think of to do it.” His eyes cut toward me. “Please, lady, put down the gun.”

I lowered it. But I kept it in my hand. “Talk,” I said.

“Where is he?” James Edward asked Eli.





CHAPTER ELEVEN


A lot happened in the train derailment,” Eli said. “The chest is missing. Someone took it.”

James Edward looked as though he was going to keel over. “Oh, no,” he breathed. I pointed to the chair, but the waiter shook his head.

Eli said, “It’s just temporary. We’ll keep our promises to you.”

“Maybe the train wreck was God telling us to back down.” James Edward sounded kind of hopeful, and also kind of angry.

“The train was derailed on purpose,” Eli said. “By humans, maybe the Ballard thugs. Not by God.”

I had no idea what any of this meant, but at the moment, that was not my job. My job was to keep this man from harming Eli, or making any outcry drawing attention to us.

But for sure, later, I would understand, if I had to beat it out of Eli.

James Edward didn’t look homicidal. He looked scared. “We’re dead,” he muttered. “They know. I might as well get back to work.” He half-turned.

“But we haven’t even started yet,” Eli said, putting some push into his voice. “There’s so much to do.”

James Edward’s shoulders were slumped. “Like what? Sir?”

“Like finding out where he is,” Eli said. “And getting him back.”

“How we gonna do that?” James Edward Johnson looked at Eli like Eli was a fool. I bet he’d never looked at a white man like that before, not with the white man looking back.

“I’m sure someone you know saw something, noticed someone, at the train wreck. Your people were everywhere that day, carrying the wounded, lining up the dead, picking up the debris. White people don’t pay them any attention.”

I heard someone coming up the stairs. I held up my finger to tell Eli and James Edward to shut up. Sure enough, after a moment there was another knock at the door.

James Edward, his face full of alarm, pointed from me to the bathroom door with a lot of you-better in his gesture. I looked at Eli, who nodded. I hurried into the bathroom, glad I was barefoot. I left the door open just a crack so I could hear.