• 42 •

NORMA DID A marvelous job of holding Mr. Bernstein at gunpoint. It was, in every way, the role she was born to play: Norma was nothing if not indomitable in the presence of a foe.

Hack held up his end of the bargain, too, and didn’t allow anyone to come near the tent. Fleurette stayed with May Ward in the mess hall where they were forbidden, under rather stern orders from Clarence, from leaving until Constance gave the order.

The entire operation was conducted so smoothly, Constance reflected, as she looked around the camp, that it almost seemed as if they’d formed a cohesive military unit. It was with no small amount of pride that she thanked Hack and Clarence for their efforts and stepped inside the tent to confront Mr. Bernstein.

Norma was at her ease in a folding chair, with one leg crossed over the other and the pistol pointed casually in Freeman’s direction.

“Has he been entirely silent?” Constance asked.

“No. I had to remind him twice,” Norma said.

“I’m glad there wasn’t a third time. I’d like to speak to you privately, Mr. Bernstein, and the walls of this tent are far too thin. Please come with me.”

“I’ll go anywhere you like, as long as I’m not looking down the barrel of a revolver any longer. A man my age shouldn’t be kept in suspense when bullets are involved.”

Constance thought otherwise and decided to take the weapon with her. She held her hand out and said to Norma, “That’s all for tonight. I’m sure you need to see to your pigeons.”

“Pigeons!” scoffed Mr. Bernstein. “What does an Army camp need with pigeons?”

That remark was enough to make Norma look thoughtfully at the gun. Constance took it away gently, and Norma stumped outside.

Constance took hold of Freeman’s arm in that proprietary manner she used to employ with her inmates, digging her fingers into the bones around his elbow to let him know that he’d be down on the ground with a nose like Beulah’s if he tried to run. He groaned but went along with her, having been given no choice in the matter.

They walked in silence until they reached the training field. No one from camp could hear them, and as long as they were in the open, she would see anyone coming.

She always thought it best to begin an interrogation without any preliminaries. “You weren’t expecting to see Miss Binford tonight, were you?”

“I hoped never to see that girl again.”

“And what about your wife?”

“Mrs. Ward will not permit her name to be uttered in her presence.”

“Does that mean you didn’t say her name after she ran out of the tent?”

Mr. Bernstein rubbed his forehead. “I can hardly remember, I was so shocked.”

“Of course you remember. Do Fleurette and Mrs. Ward know that they were in a tent with Beulah Binford no more than an hour ago?”

He groaned. “No. I shut my trap when you ran out. It isn’t in my best interests to introduce the subject or the girl in the presence of Mrs. Ward. That Binford girl nearly put me in the poorhouse.”

“Yes, I’m sure that whatever happened between the two of you was entirely her fault,” Constance said drily.

“I’d like to know why you allowed her into camp. A scandal like that would close this place down. Or — wait a minute. I know her game. She gave a false name, didn’t she? She always did, back in New York.”

“This camp is not your concern,” Constance said. “What matters now is whether Miss Binford is to be given the privacy she deserves.”

Freeman stood with his hands in his pockets and rolled his eyes up toward the sky, calculating. “Well, let’s see. I know a reporter or two in Washington who could be out here in the morning. What would that headline be?”

Constance yanked Freeman’s elbow for good measure. “You know perfectly well. ‘Disgraced Lady Deputy Snares Beulah Binford.’ Every paper in the country would run it.”

Freeman nodded thoughtfully. “I like that. This might just be the little something extra that we need to put Beulah back on the stage. A lady deputy throwing her behind bars when she tries to shoot another man —”

“Another man! When did she ever shoot a man before?”

“Oh, you’re right,” Freeman said. “It was the wife who was murdered.”

“And the husband who did the murdering! You haven’t even bothered to remember what transpired.”

“Well, there’s no need to go into the particulars now. What I’m proposing, Miss Kopp, is to put you in the very center of our little morality play, as a force for good. Now, I don’t have to tell you how much this might help rehabilitate your own image after all that nastiness during the election last fall. What I suggest is —”

If Constance hadn’t been certain how to handle Mr. Bernstein before, she was now. He hadn’t been damaged a bit by that gunshot. He was already trying to put on a show about it. There was in fact no tragedy, no scandal, that he wouldn’t exploit for his own gain. She wasn’t shocked by it any more than one is shocked by a leopard for wearing its spots, but she saw now that he would never be persuaded to see Beulah’s plight another way. He couldn’t be persuaded at all — but he could be threatened. That sort of bravado in a man always had cowardice hiding underneath it. She could manage a coward.

Constance — summoning up more of Deputy Kopp now than she had in months — gripped him by both shoulders and gave him a rough shake. “You’re not making the suggestions, Mr. Bernstein. You’re going to keep quiet about Beulah Binford. You’ve already ruined that girl’s life once. There’s nothing to be gained by doing so again.”

“But the public deserves to know!”

“Oh, you don’t believe that. You do remember that I saved your life tonight, don’t you?”

“For which I offer my thanks, if I haven’t already.”

“You haven’t,” Constance said flatly. “I just happened to catch Beulah in time. Who’s going to be there to stop her the next time she comes after you?”

He paused to consider that. “She’s not the first girl to point a gun at me. And I don’t imagine she’s a very good shot.”

“Mr. Bernstein, here’s one thing I know about Beulah Binford. She might be quiet, and a little evasive, but she watches and learns. She won’t make a mistake next time.”

He went very still at that idea. “Then what do you propose?”

“I propose you do your utmost not to aggravate her. Leave her alone, and don’t breathe a word about her to the press.”

“But she put a gun on me! Don’t you throw girls in jail for a thing like that?”

“Leave her to me. I can’t appeal to your sense of decency, because you haven’t any, but —”

“Now, that’s unkind!”

“But what I can do is to remind you that if you go against Beulah Binford, or say a word that would damage the reputation of this camp, you will have Beulah to worry about —”

“That’s nothing new.” Freeman tried to summon up his bluster and bluff, but it drained away again when he saw something fierce and — Was it possible? A bit of the rogue outlaw? — in Constance’s eye.

“And you will have me to worry about. If Beulah doesn’t come after you, I will. Am I understood?”