Into the Bright Unknown (The Gold Seer Trilogy #3)(79)

“Miss Westfall?” asks a voice.

I look up to see the governor again. “Hello, sir,” I say, wondering if the sheriff really had the gumption to search the governor, or if it was all a pretense. “This is a terrible situation.” I hope my face matches the solemnity of my voice.

“I’m sure you remember when we first met,” he says.

“In Sacramento, at the Christmas ball,” I offer.

“You were already the Golden Goddess, but a goddess without a realm. Did you receive a happy resolution to your problem that day?”

“No, sir, I did not,” I answer. “Me and the miners of Glory, we raised all the gold we had, and gave it to Mr. Hardwick, who promised to make sure we had a town charter. Something that would protect our claims, and protect our right to govern ourselves. Only it turned out he made a promise he couldn’t deliver.”

“I’m getting the impression that he has made many promises he’s incapable of delivering,” the governor says, his face grave.

Everyone is jumping ship now, even Hardwick’s closest associates.

The governor’s scrutiny becomes intense, making me fidget. “You’re still interested in that town charter, I presume?” he says.

My breath catches. “Yes, sir. Naturally, sir.”

“Good to know,” he says noncommittally.

Frank Dilley drags two small forms by the scruffs of their necks, and throws them to the ground at the sheriff’s feet. It’s Sonia, the pickpocket, and her little towheaded companion, Billy. Naturally, I’m shocked to see them.

“I caught these two lingering near the gate,” Frank says. “I recognized them for cutpurses who hang around the docks. If anyone is guilty of theft, it’s them.”

People in the crowd draw back from the two as if they’re infected with measles. Sonia looks up at the sheriff, eyes wide with innocence. “That’s not true, sir. We just came for the music and the food.”

“I was hungry,” Billy adds, with his sad puppy-dog eyes.

“Search us, sir,” Sonia says, holding up her arms. “You won’t find anything.”

“Well,” Billy says. “I’ve got a couple sausages in my pocket. But they’re small sausages. And some cheese.”

“Billy!”

“Search them,” the sheriff tells his deputies, but their careful patting down, including a search for any hidden pockets, turns up only lint-covered sausages, smooshed cheese, and a slice of dried apple.

“They’re clean,” the deputy reports. He wrinkles his nose. “Well, not clean, but they don’t have any valuables on them.”

“How’d you get into the party?” the sheriff asks. “Climb over a wall? Sneak in?”

“We came right in through the front gate,” Billy says earnestly, as he sticks the cheese and sausages back in his pockets, and shoves the browned apple slice into his mouth.

“That’s the honest truth, sir,” Sonia says. “We came with an invitation from Mr. Dilley, here.”

“Frank?” Hardwick says, his voice hard.

“That’s a damn lie!” Frank answers.

“We’ve searched all the guests and the grounds,” one of the deputies reports to the sheriff. “The stolen items are nowhere to be found.”

“Then maybe we should search inside the house,” the sheriff says.

Helena sidles up to him. “You won’t find anything in there,” she says to him. “Nobody’s been in the private quarters, except Hardwick and his staff.”

She must have sussed out part of our plan. I give Helena a grateful look. All I demanded was that she stop helping Hardwick, not that she help us instead. But I’ll take it.

“It’s true,” Hardwick says. “No one has been inside the private wing.”

“You’d swear to that?” the sheriff answers.

Hardwick opens his mouth. Closes it. The trap has been set, and he has no answer.

The sheriff and deputies go from room to room. After only a few minutes, a cry reaches us from one of the bedrooms. Footsteps hurry to investigate. The sheriff and his men return carrying the governor’s gold watch, the senator’s wife’s ruby bracelet, and a handful of other items.

“We found the jewelry under the mattress,” he says. “It’s all there.”

They lay out everything on a long serving table. The last two items are an iron key, which I would bet money fits the open safe in the storeroom, and the burned fragment of a safe ledger, still smoking, as though just rescued from the cinders.

“Whose room is along the west wall?” the sheriff asks. “The one with red velvet curtains and the beehive fireplace?”

Hardwick stares at Frank. “Where’s the gold, Dilley? Where’s the gold from the safe?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Frank says.

“That was Frank Dilley’s room,” Hardwick says. “And the key and ledger match a very specific safe. I want to know where he put my two hundred thousand dollars.”

“I never stole anything you didn’t tell me to steal,” Frank sneers as the deputies close around him.

“So you’re saying it wasn’t your fault?” the sheriff prompts. “Hardwick ordered you to steal the jewelry?”