to have you in jail where you might speak with the press and sully the name of this property.”
“I would never—”
“Perhaps not, but I am unwilling to take that chance. Rest assured, if word of that ridiculous tale comes to life in print, you will have spent your last moments under our hospitality.”
“I understand completely, Mr. Sylvan. I want the truth to come out, even if only to the two of us.”
He lifted the left side of his moustache in response.
“And,” I pursued, “I truly am grateful. I hope—I intend—to pay my debt one day.”
“Again, it is not I you should thank. Had I any power in the situation, I would have had you taken down the street and jailed that very night. Such carryings on. Ghosts and shrieks.”
“There is a ghost, Mr. Sylvan. Your own staff told me—”
“Nonsense. Superstitious babble. All the more reason to bid you farewell, but you can thank your friend Detective Carmichael for your current accommodations.”
“Detective Carmichael?”
“He is nothing if not a persuasive man.”
That persuasive man came to visit me that evening, the first I’d seen him since he knelt beside me by the fire. Though barely seven o’clock, it was dark. Two raps on my door, and I opened it to find one of the messenger boys with a note. I recognized the handwriting at once, inviting me to meet him in the Menger Bar and join him for supper. I say “invite,” though the tone left no doubt it was a summons written on a scrap torn from his notebook. I recognized the paper, the color of a not-quite-ripe peach.
I was still dressed and respectable, but I lingered in my room a good fifteen minutes so he wouldn’t think he could expect me at the drop of a hat. There were quite a few patrons in the bar, and Bert gave me a nod in the direction of the booth in the back corner, where we sat that first evening.
Carmichael stood as I approached. “Good evening, Mrs. Krause.”
I returned his greeting and took a seat on the opposite bench. “This is a surprise.”
“Not unwelcome?”
“Not yet.” I noticed a train case on the seat next to him and a spot of coal dust on his collar. “You’ve come straight from the station?”
“I have. And I’m starving. Stopped in here for a drink, and Bert offered to make up something for me.” He looked aside and began rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “And here it is.”
Bert, looking for all the world like one of the dining room waiters with a towel draped over his forearm, approached with a steaming plate of chopped steak cooked with onions and peppers, and a stream of fried potatoes on the side.
“My man,” Carmichael said. “You cooked this yourself?”
“Sometimes they let me fire up the stove in the back,” he said with a modest smile.
I absorbed the scent and the steam of the food with such obvious desire that Carmichael asked if I wanted a bite, going so far as to offer me his fork.
“No, thank you,” I demurred. “I’ve already had a light supper.”
“I can make you a small plate of your own,” Bert said. “Got some left on the stove.”
My stomach guided my words. “Well, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste. You can put it on Mr. Carmichael’s tab, since he insists I join him here.”
Carmichael politely left his food untouched while we waited for Bert to arrive with mine. We chatted about the train, the luxuries of such travel, and the drawbacks, though neither of us had ever traveled extensively any other way.
“I wouldn’t have lasted five days on a wagon train,” he said, digging into his food as soon as I’d taken my first, savoring bite. “I don’t hunt, never built a fire without wasting a handful of matches, and I hate horses.”
I laughed. “Nobody hates horses.”
“I do. Big, stupid animals, and I cannot wait for the motorcar to run them all off the streets and back to the farms where they belong.”
“You don’t see the motorcar as a passing fancy? Some kind of giant toy?”
“Have you ever driven one?”
I clutched at my blouse as if offended. “Never. Why, just riding in one is terrifying enough.”
He took a bite of his food and chewed thoughtfully. “Not even when you were in Tennessee?”
I stared at my plate, collecting my thoughts, my appetite not the least diminished. Still, I left my food untouched and looked straight into his eyes, meeting his challenge without response.