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Leonard hurried from the bedroom to answer the pounding at his front door. Lucille was just standing there staring at it.
“Don’t!” she shouted, holding one hand out to him. He looked at her uncertainly; the fear on her face was plain as day.
“Why not?” he asked, raising his voice over the pounding.
“It is Marshal Decker,” she said.
“Yes, I know. He’s our dinner guest.” He waited for her to say something, anything, which might rationally explain her behavior, but she only stood there silently. He opened the door and let a furious Marshal Decker into the house.
“I’m sorry, marshal,” Leonard said, taking the man’s coat. “My wife is a little hard of hearing.” He was watching them closely. Both their faces were flushed, and they were breathing hard.
“I’ve never been treated so shabbily in my life,” Decker replied with a grunt. It suddenly occurred to Leonard that the man looked like a troll. With the way his dark eyes drew closely together and his lips seemed to snarl whenever he spoke, Leonard wondered how he’d ever missed it before. If only the marshal had pointy gray ears and a few scales, he would have been the spitting image of one.
Lucille was looking fearfully at the marshal. “F-Forgive me for my, um...” She stuttered over her words. “The door slipped right through my fingers.”
Leonard’s eyes opened wide. “You shut the door on him?” he asked her.
“It was an accident,” she said. Her hands were trembling. She stuck them into the pocket of her dress and bit down hard on her bottom lip. “I had oil on my hands from cooking and lost my grip on the door.”
Neither Leonard nor Decker were buying that, though. She must have sensed as much, because she quickly added, “I’m sorry. I-I’m lying. The door didn’t slip from my grip. I saw you, Marshal Decker, and I panicked. Leonard didn’t tell me he’d invited a celebrity to dinner. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve read about you in the papers. Your picture is always the biggest, too. Perhaps later, if it’s not too much trouble, I might get your autograph.”
Leonard’s jaw dropped open at the obvious lie, but Decker broke into a smile. “Well,” he said, his grin continuing to widen. “Of course. I’d be happy to sign anything you wish.” He held his hand out then and shook Leonard’s hand, then turned to Lucille.
“I really am sorry,” she said.
“It’s perfectly all right,” Decker said and began moving farther into the house without waiting to be shown. “You have a lovely home here.”
Leonard hurried after him as he skipped over the parlor and went directly into the dining room. He sat down at the table and smiled at Lucille.
“It smells delicious.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Have we met?” he asked her. “You look very familiar.”
Leonard looked at his wife, his heart ticking like a broken clock. This was what he’d been afraid of. He hadn’t really believed the marshal would recognize his wife when he saw her, but now...
“Forgive me,” said Lucille, “but I think you’re mistaken. We’ve never met, though I’ve certainly read enough articles on you to feel as if I know you.” She was still trying to flatter him.
He frowned. “You really do look so familiar to me,” he muttered.
“I have one of those faces,” she said and cast her eyes to the floor.
Leonard almost bit his tongue trying to figure her out. Not just her, the marshal too. Were they playing some sort of game with each other? Did Decker really recognize her or was he just saying that to get a reaction from her? He might have said the same thing to every woman he encountered who was named Lucille hoping one day he’d meet the real one and she’d give herself away.
“Were you in Elmwood the last time I passed through here?” Decker asked.
She shook her head. “No, I was traveling. If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on dinner.” She returned to the kitchen, leaving them alone.
“Why don’t we go into the parlor?” Leonard asked, but Decker waved him off.
“This is fine,” he said. “Smells as though supper will be ready any moment now.” There was a basket of bread on the table with some butter. He picked up a hunk, smeared the butter on it, and began to chew.
Leonard cleared his throat then took a seat at the head of the table. “I sort of sprung this dinner on Lucy at the last moment,” he said. “She was worried it might not be up to your standards.”
“I’m sure it will be delicious,” Decker said. “I’m not picky about food. I never go to a person’s house expecting the same level of service I’d receive at a restaurant. If I receive a quarter of that sort of service, I’m happy, though most wives struggle to do even that much. I’ve left many homes disappointed, though I never tell the hosts that, of course.”
Leonard struggled to keep his mouth closed. Nothing he could say right now would do him any good. What had he been thinking inviting such a crass man to dine with him and Lucy? Perhaps he could hurry dinner along somehow. The man clearly had not recognized his wife from whatever description he had of the Beauty Bandits. If he had, he would have already arrested her. To Leonard’s mind, that was all he needed to know. His fears about Lucy were now alleviated, and the marshal could go. The sooner, the better.
“And anyway,” Decker continued, “I’m certain your Lucy will fare far better than the usual wives I encounter. She’s already shown me she’s a woman of good taste by recognizing me from the papers. Most women would not be bold enough to ask for my autograph, though I suspect most of the women who encounter me would like one nearly as much as your wife. She seems to have more than just air in your head, as most women I meet do.”
Leonard frowned, feeling as though he’d just been insulted but not precisely sure why. Decker clearly meant what he was saying as a compliment.
“Your wife still looks so familiar to me, though,” Decker said again between mouthfuls of bread. “She says she was traveling when last I was here. Can you tell me where she might have been? I do quite a bit of traveling myself, you know.”
He hesitated. “Out West, I think. It was before we were married.”
Decker nodded. “The West is quite a large space.”
“Indeed it is.”
“Where West was she?”
Leonard hesitated again then shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”
Lucille returned a moment later with a steaming pot of soup. She filled their soup bowls and then hurried back into the kitchen for the meat and potatoes, which were to be the main course. She set it all on the table and then took a seat.
Decker stared at her, his dark eyes carefully observing her as she ate. Leonard noticed how they seemed to stop on her lips as she raised the fork to her mouth, and his gut began to burn. The man licked his lips and Leonard’s insides started twisting together.
“Leonard’s a lucky man to be married to such a beautiful woman,” Decker said, his mouth curling up into an ugly smile. “I’ve never met a woman with cheeks so rosy or eyes so bright.”
Lucille blushed and looked at her plate. “Thank you.”
Leonard cleared his throat. “Lucy’s a terrific cook,” he said.
“I imagine your wife is accomplished at a good many things,” Decker said, his eyes darkening as he looked her up and down.
“Excuse me a moment,” Lucille said, seeming uncomfortable. “I forgot the gravy.”
She rose from her seat and returned a moment later with the gravy boat, which she set it on the table, leaning over to place it in the center. Decker’s eyes hovered over Lucille’s chest as the top part of her dress opened a half inch, revealing more of her skin than he was sure she meant to.
Leonard’s stomach churned. He hit the tabletop with the palm of his hand, making them both jump. They looked at him and his face colored. “You sit and rest,” Leonard told his wife. “If we need anything else, I’ll get it. You’ve outdone yourself with this meal already.”
She looked surprised but thanked him for the kind words and took her seat. He wanted to tell her to fix the neckline of her dress so that it stuck closer to her skin—he would help her pin it himself if necessary—but he would not dare say such a thing in front of the marshal and embarrass her. Besides, the problem was not really with her dress, which was properly modest as well as pretty on her trim figure. The real problem was the marshal himself. The man was crude.
The evening was not going precisely as Leonard had thought it would. Decker was acting more like a smitten lover than a marshal out to catch a thief and killer. Decker might have started out this evening with his mind on the Beauty Bandits, but that had swiftly changed when Lucille had opened the door.
He supposed he could not blame the marshal entirely; Lucille’s beauty was quite captivating. The way her eyes demurely took in the scene around her, and the way her cheeks grew a soft pink whenever she received a compliment, made her beauty that much more appealing. She was a beautiful woman who did not realize just how beautiful she truly was.
For her part, Lucille seemed to be doing her best to avoid eye contact with the marshal, which he thought made her all the more appealing to the man who always preferred a challenge. That was clearly not her intent. If she could have, Leonard was sure she’d have thrown the man from the house. Her curious lies to the marshal—seeking his autograph and so forth—made Leonard suspicious. Despite her claims not to know Decker, he was almost certain she was lying. His mind and body began to burn with curiosity. He cleared his throat.
“Lucy, it is possible you met the marshal in Nevada?”
Her eyes shot up, meeting his, and she gave him a look that could kill. “No,” she snapped.
Decker leaned back in his seat and looked at her with interest. “Were you in Nevada?”
Her smile thinned. “Yes,” she said. Her chest rose and fell with each deep breath she took, and Decker’s eyes settled again on her neckline.”
Leonard ground his teeth together. “Perhaps, marshal, if you looked at my wife’s face a bit more closely, it might come to you where you know her from.”
Marshal Decker’s eyes moved from Lucille’s neckline to Leonard’s eyes, and he had at least enough sense to look embarrassed. He looked back at Lucille and ran his tongue over his lips, not in a salacious way, but as if he were thinking.
“Do you have a sister, perhaps?” Decker asked her. “Or a cousin? One with similar features to your own but perhaps their face or hair is a different coloring?” His eyes suddenly widened as he finished his thought.
“I’m an only child,” said Lucille.
Decker’s face slowly grew a deep crimson. His eyes burned a deep, dark color. “Have you ever been a blonde?” he asked, not mincing words.
“No,” she said a little too forcefully.
He studied her a moment then said, “My mistake. I realize now you’re quite right. We’ve never met before... in person.”
Leonard blinked. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, an edge to his voice.
“Nothing,” said Decker. “Nothing at all.”
Lucille pushed back on her chair suddenly. “I’ve just remembered, I... I promised Irene I would take her some... soup.”
“Now?” Leonard asked her.
“Yes.”
“Can Irene not make her own soup?” He was at a loss as to what she could be thinking leaving the supper table like this. She had not even finished her food.
“Irene was not feeling well this afternoon. I promised her I would lend a hand.” She blushed fiercely. “Excuse me, marshal,” she said and hurried out of the room.
When she was gone, Leonard looked at Marshal Decker. He didn’t know quite what to make of the whole situation. The way Decker had looked at her all through dinner made him think he was interested in her not as a suspect in his case, but as a woman whom he was lusting after. Now, however, he held the look of a man on a mission. A marshal who had just caught his culprit.
“Tell me once and for all,” Leonard said to the marshal. “Do you know my wife or don’t you?”
“I do not,” Decker said, alleviating Leonard of at least some of his fears. But the man did not stop there. “But I suspect you do not know your wife either.”
“What do you mean by that?” Leonard asked, all of his fears returning in an instant.
Decker only looked at him. “If I were you, I would ask your wife what I meant by that. I imagine her answer might interest you, provided you can get the truth out of her.” He picked up his fork then and cut into his beef.
* * *
