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* * *
Lucille was halfway to Irene’s house when the two women ran into each other. “I was just coming to see you,” said Irene.
“And I was just on my way to see you,” said Lucille, who had waited until Leonard had left the house before heading over to see her friend. She’d made sure to wear her largest brimmed hat and a wrap a scarf around her neck hiding part of her face. Just in case Marshal Decker happened to pass by her.
“Did you see the morning paper?” Irene asked.
Lucille nodded, trying to keep her eyes from widening. Every time she did so, she felt as though she were declaring her guilt to anyone who might look in her direction. She looked around and realized they were stopped dead in the middle of town center.
“Come on,” said Lucille, pulling Irene along by the arm. “Keep walking.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I do not wish to be spotted by Marshal Decker. I don’t know where the man is right now, only that he’s here. And I want nothing to do with him.”
Thankfully, Irene asked no more questions and picked up her speed.
“I haven’t left the house in three days,” said Lucille. “Not for anything; not even coffee. This morning, I was certain Leonard would notice I’d reused yesterday’s coffee grounds. He kept making a face like he was going to vomit. Bless his heart though, he emptied the cup and said nothing about it. I took one sip and thought I would be sick. I let the rest grow cold then threw it out once he was gone.”
“Why don’t you just ask Leonard to get more coffee if you need it?” Irene asked.
“Because then he might say he hadn’t any time and ask me to get it instead, defeating the purpose of my asking him in the first place. And then what would I do?”
“You’re out of the house now,” Irene said. “Want to stop at the general store?”
“No, I want to get home again before Decker spots me.”
“Do you really think he’d recognize you?”
“Yes.” She paused. “Maybe. I don’t know. But I see no point in taking chances.”
“Then we’d better move fast.” It was Irene who pulled Lucille along now, almost making her trip. If she had done so, Lucille was fairly certain Irene would have continued to hurry her along, dragging her on the ground if she had to.
Once back inside her house, Lucille shut the door and breathed relief.
“Next time,” said Irene, “just wait for me to come to you.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d seen the paper,” Lucille complained.
“I always read the morning paper. Even if I don’t, eventually I’ll hear something about it from someone. Either Theodore or Summer or Betty will tell me what’s going on in this town, and then I’ll tell you.”
Irene shook her head slightly as if trying to clear it and asked Lucille if she wanted tea.
“This is my house,” said Lucille with a laugh. “I’m supposed to ask you that.”
Irene blinked for a minute then broke into a laugh herself. “How silly of me. I forgot where I was for a second.” She smiled and took a seat. “Do you even have tea?” she asked. “Or will they be reused tea leaves you’ll be serving?”
“It’s better not to ask,” Lucille said.
“Forget the tea then,” Irene replied, and Lucille took a seat as well, the tea forgotten. “I can go out later and pick up a few things for you, if you like,” Irene told her.
“Would you?” Lucille asked. “I’d be so grateful.”
“Of course, just give me a list of whatever it is you want, and I’ll make sure I get everything on it.”
“I’ll give it to you before you leave, along with a little money.” She let out a sigh. “So what about that article this morning? A wig, it said. A blonde wig. Do you think that’s just a coincidence? You don’t think the others would do anything without first telling us, do you?”
Irene’s eyes widened. “Do you mean... are you asking whether or not I think the rest of our gang have started robbing trains without us? Without even letting us know what they were planning?” She shook her head. “Even if that were the case, there’s no way the three of them would kill anyone. Ever. And they’d never be so stupid as to leave their wigs behind.”
“I suppose not,” said Lucille. “Perhaps we should ask them.”
Irene frowned. “I don’t know. I can certainly talk to one or two of them without drawing attention, but if all five of us were to get together...”
Lucille said, “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. After all, the papers still think there are only three of us to begin with. As far as I know, Marshal Decker thinks the same. I’ve always thought having us switch out from time to time was one of our better ideas. It makes it harder to identify us.”
“The Beauty Bandits ought to retire permanently,” said Irene.
“I thought they already had,” said Lucille.
“Yes, but if these papers keep printing such lies, the real Beauty Bandits may need to make an appearance; if for no other reason than to clear our name of these killings.”
“What do you mean?”
“If we could somehow find out when this copycat group might strike again, then we could strike the same night. Two gangs of Beauty Bandits would help to clarify things for Decker, don’t you think? He’d be forced to realize that they were not one and the same band, then maybe he’d focus on catching the real killers and leave us alone.”
Lucille was not at all sure what she thought about such an idea, but it was worth considering if it could help them get Marshal Decker off their back. Off her back, rather.
A voice cleared its throat behind them and both women jumped. Lucille let out a startled cry. “Leonard!” she shouted. “What are you doing here? I thought you went to work.” She didn’t mean to say it like it was an accusation, but that was how it came out.
He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “I forgot something, so I came back.”
“And you couldn’t announce yourself? You’ve just been eavesdropping?” Lucille shouted, her face flushing.
He paused a moment before replying, and Lucille could feel Irene’s eyes on her. “You weren’t home when I arrived, and I didn’t hear you come in.”
“That’s no excuse,” she continued to yell.
“Lucille...” Irene said, a warning in her voice, but Lucille could not stop herself. She rose from her seat and faced Leonard with her hands on her hips.
“I would never eavesdrop on you and Amos.”
“Amos and I have nothing to hide,” he said. His eyes were dark and suspicious, or maybe that was only her imagination. They were sensual eyes; she could almost feel them digging into her, probing her with their silent questions.
“So you think Irene and I have things to hide?” she asked, clearing her own throat now.
“I don’t know. Do you?” He was being eerily calm, which was only upsetting Lucille that much more. How long had he been standing there? What had he heard?
“Of course not!” she cried, lying to his face and feeling guilty about it, but the anger she felt at his eavesdropping soon overshadowed any guilt she may have had. She clung to that anger like it was a life raft.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he said after a beat. “I was in the bedroom and heard voices. I assumed it was you and came to say hello.”
She hesitated and looked at Irene, who looked as though she had no better idea what to say than she did. “So... so you weren’t listening to us?” Lucille asked.
He inhaled. “Not at all,” he said. “I might have heard word or two, but I could hardly make out more than that given the speed with which you two talk.
She wasn’t sure whether or not she should believe him, though her brain desperately wanted her to. If he was telling the truth, then they had no problem and could simply go about the rest of their day.
“I’m sorry if I overreacted,” she said finally.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t make my presence known sooner,” he replied. They stared at each other from across the room then, awkwardly, Lucille walked over to him and kissed his cheek. The moment her lips touched his skin, she felt heat rise in her torso, flames licking at her skin as her breath increased along with her perspiration.
No man had ever been able to evoke such a reaction in her, and she had to back away from him slowly before she confessed to everything she was trying to conceal. Had he asked her right then whether or not she was an outlaw, she was almost certain she’d have spilled every last secret she had.
“I’ll see you for dinner,” he said and left the house again.
When he was gone, Irene rose. “That was close,” she said. “For a moment, I was certain he’d heard everything.”
“For a moment,” said Lucille, “so was I.”
* * *
