Westie could tell by Lucy’s wavering jaw that the woman was lying. If someone had set Westie’s house on fire with her inside, she’d be afraid to speak too. But Westie wouldn’t let it go. She needed to know what Lucy knew.
“Do you know my father, Nigel?” Westie asked, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Lucy didn’t answer, or even look at her. “He’s a surgeon. Surgeons are like doctors; they take an oath not to talk about their patients without permission. I’m sure Amos was under similar regulations when it came to bank business.” Still no response from Lucy. “Anyway, that oath never stopped Nigel from coming home and wanting to vent after a long day at work. I’m his daughter, so of course he could trust me, just like I’m sure Amos trusted you. Some days I wished Nigel hadn’t trusted me so much. You wouldn’t believe some of the things folks needed to have surgically removed from—well, I’m sure you can imagine.”
Westie waited for Lucy to crack a smile, or at least relax, but her attempt at humor had failed.
“Look,” Westie said, lowering her voice and using her flesh hand to touch Lucy’s, “I know you’re scared. Believe me, I’m terrified too. When the mayor finds out I’m conducting an investigation of my own, he’ll come after me—and the people I love. That’s why I need to know what Amos had on him. I want to take that bastard down once and for all so he can’t hurt anyone else. None of us are safe until I do. Please, Lucy, I need your help.”
Lucy’s lips began to tremble. When she closed her eyes, a river of tears escaped. She nodded her head.
“Yes?” Westie sounded far too eager. Others in the beds nearby looked over at her.
Lucy made a shushing motion with her hand. She looked around, hesitating before saying, “Amos believed Ben Chambers was responsible for the airship explosion that killed our former mayor seven years ago.”
“Why would he do that?” Westie asked.
“To become mayor himself, of course. He was the president of the board of supervisors, the next in line in case the current mayor was unable to perform his duties. He has big political plans. First mayor, then governor, senator, and one day president. He might’ve succeeded by now had he been more likable. He will do anything for that kind of power.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and took a shallow breath that made her cough. “Amos had recently found an old receipt in the county budget for explosives signed out by Ben Chambers only a day before the airship crash. Ben was a property lawyer back then and attended demolitions, only there weren’t any demolitions planned, and the explosives were never returned.”
Westie picked at her lip as she listened to Lucy speak. If the mayor was willing to kill an entire airship of people to get to just one, he was more devious than she’d thought.
“But none of that matters now,” Lucy said. “All the evidence burned up in the fire.”
As soon as the last word left her mouth, Lucy began to cough, the kind of violent hacking that sounded like she might cough up her spine. Westie reached over, cranked the machine to start it up, and handed Lucy the copper tube. It made chugging sounds as it pulled the debris from her lungs. When the coughing stopped, Westie pulled the photo she’d found in the rubble out of her coat pocket.
“Do you recognize any of these people?” she asked.
Lucy nodded, pulling the tube from her mouth and touching the face of her late husband. Her lips eased into a soft smile. “I don’t know who that family is behind them, but that’s Amos shaking hands with James Lovett after he won the mayoralty for the third time in a row. That photo was taken for the newspaper. Amos kept it in a frame in his office.” Her smile fell. “That was just days before James Lovett and his wife were killed.”
Westie squeezed Lucy’s hand once more. “You’ve been a big help. I promise we’ll get the mayor. You won’t have to be afraid anymore.”
Lucy tugged at Westie’s hand when she tried to leave and looked deep into her eyes with a ferociousness that hadn’t been there before. “When you take the mayor down, you be sure to tell him I hope he rots in hell.”
Westie nodded. “You bet I will.”
As they walked away, Alistair said, “That’s a hefty promise to make.”
Westie looked up at him. “And one I intend to keep. Even if I have to kill the man myself.”
Thirty-Seven
Westie and Alistair left their horses under an awning out of the rain and walked against the wind into the center of town.
“Where are we going?” Alistair asked, the tail of his duster snapping in the wind behind him.
Westie put her head down, charging into the storm. “The library keeps records of old newspapers, right?” she said above the howling wind.
“I believe so.”