Read Online Blind Trust by Susannah Bamford - Free Book Online Page A

was the company’s agent. And we found ourselves chasing a phantom.”
    â€œA phantom,” Hinkle repeated.
    â€œThere’s a real man and a real company, I suppose, but it’s not the Pacific Improvement Company, which is a dummy company with a board made up of clerks and accountants and flunkies—excuse me, sir, I know you’re the chairman. But you seem to be the only respectable businessman on it. Now, isn’t that strange? Strange, too, that you run to your house in New York right around the time Jamie Alden is murdered.”
    Hinkle stared at him, and Tavish didn’t drop his gaze. “Is that an accusation, sir?” Hinkle asked softly.
    â€œTo a house you haven’t visited in two years’ time,” Tavish continued, avoiding the challenge in Hinkle’s voice. “Or is it that, like Mr. Huntington, you believe that if you move in, you’ll die in the grand house you took years to build?”
    For a moment, he thought Hinkle would throw him out. But the man wanted something, he could see it. Tavish squinted through the miasma of cigar smoke, trying to find the key in Artemis Hinkle’s eyes. And then he found it. Fear.
    A thrill shot through him. Tavish concealed it by studying the glowing end of his cigar. He kept running into it; it seemed to be the common thread that might lead him somewhere. Edward Snow, Darcy, Ned Van Cormandt. They were all afraid. Whatever, whoever, was frightening Hinkle, it meant that things would move somewhere.
    â€œMr. Hinkle.” Tavish kept his gaze as steady as his words. “Solace is already on the way to becoming just another ghost town the railroad created. It’s a lost cause, I think—and I’m not fond of lost causes. I’ve fought too many of them. And I’m tired, and I don’t like the East, and I want to go home. But know this: I will find the man who murdered my friend. This Mr. Dargent, whoever he is. I advise you to think about this. Because, Mr. Hinkle, right now you are looking at a man with nothing to lose.”
    They stared at each other. Then Hinkle sat down heavily across from Tavish. “And you, Mr. Finn, are looking at a man who has everything to lose.”
    â€œI am assuming that,” Tavish answered. “But I can help the odds, Mr. Hinkle.”
    Tavish waited while Hinkle looked at him. He didn’t drop his eyes. He had been in this situation a few times in his life, over a poker table or a barrel of a gun, often enough to recognize it: Hinkle was taking his measure. He was deciding whether to trust, and the decision was crucial. Sometimes it could be life or death. Should Hinkle decide to trust, just on the basis of a measured look and a short conversation, the two men would be bound in a bond more lasting than marriage.
    It took awhile. But then, Tavish saw it, the slight relaxation in the shrewd hazel eyes. He had passed the test. He was inside the gate. Tavish felt his stomach muscles uncoil with relief.
    Hinkle was a good businessman, Tavish would bet. Once the decision was made, he didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room and reached for a cigar with the air of a man who was ready to get to work.
    â€œI came to New York because I was told to,” Hinkle said, lighting his cigar. “And I am in a position to obey such orders, I’m afraid. I receive them by telegram. From the real board. From Mr. Dargent.”
    Tavish eased himself into a chair. “And Mr. Dargent has threatened you in some way?”
    â€œWhy do you say that?”
    â€œBecause it is true.”
    The older man grimaced. He passed a thick-fingered hand over his brow. “I’ve never seen Mr. Dargent, obviously—surely you know that, since I thought you were him today. I very much doubt that there is such a person. Or, at least, someone with that name.” He entwined his fingers and looked down. “I’m here in New York with my daughter from my first