Read Online Hold The Dark: A Markhat story by Frank Tuttle - Free Book Online

it?”
    “I do.” I must have looked suddenly puzzled. She’d lost her grin, lost the playful twinkle in her eyes. I realized something had happened, but couldn’t place it from the words we’d spoken.
    She took a deep breath. “I asked around today,” she said, looking away. “About Martha.”
    “And what did you hear?”
    “Nothing,” she replied. “I asked the girls if they’d seen her with anyone. Asked if she’d gotten any messages, or sent any runners, or gotten any flowers on All Heart’s Day. She hadn’t, she didn’t, and she hadn’t.” Darla sighed. “I guess that isn’t much help.”
    “It tells me where not to look. That’s something. Especially coming from people I couldn’t ask.”
    She bit her lip. “There’s something else.”
    “What is it?”
    “I don’t really want to tell you.”
    “Which means you certainly should tell me.”
    She sighed again, brought up her hands, put them on the desk. Her knuckles were white. She took a breath and looked away.
    “The day Martha disappeared, she had a bag. In the bag was eleven hundred crowns.”
    I whistled. “Paper or coin?”
    “Paper,” said Darla. She looked up at me. “It’s not what you’re thinking,” she added, quickly. “Martha didn’t steal the money. I gave it to her. It was mine. We’d been planning to open a dressmaker’s shop. The eleven hundred was my share.”
    I fought the urge to rise. I wanted to reach out and take her hand, but I didn’t. I’ll always regret that.
    “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
    She shook her head, finally looked back at me. “Eleven hundred crowns? I was sure you’d quit looking. Sure you’d figure Martha just took the money and bought a stage ticket.”
    “Do you think that’s what she did?”
    I waited. Eleven hundred crowns—gods, you could buy your own stagecoach line for that, and have enough left over for a small house or two.
    “Maybe I did, at first. Maybe I was angry. Maybe I was so shocked I couldn’t think straight. But I decided something, finder, after you came to see me. I decided Martha was my friend. Martha was no thief and I ought to be ashamed of myself for thinking such a thing.”
    I opened my mouth to tell her she shouldn’t be ashamed, but she spoke again first.
    “I know eleven hundred crowns is a lot of money. It was everything I had. But if you’re about to tell me that you think Martha ran away with it, then you’re not the man I think you are.”
    “I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say that if Martha Hoobin wanted eleven hundred crowns she could have gotten twice that by raiding Ethel’s sock-drawer.” I recalled the ragged stuffed bear, tucked away in a chest with a pillow under its head. “Whatever this is about, it isn’t about your money. I’m not going to stop looking for Martha.”
    “Good,” she said. She sighed, with relief this time, and for the first time she looked tired. “So we’re still friends?”
    “We are. I don’t blame you for not telling me, first thing. You didn’t know me then, hadn’t had a chance to succumb to my mannish and worldly charms.”
    She laughed. I rummaged in my pocket, brought out the silver comb. “This turned up last night,” I said. “Ever seen it before?”
    She took it, eyed it critically. “Never. It’s a bit gaudy. Where did you find it?”
    “Martha’s dresser,” I replied. “In a junk jar. Her brothers hadn’t seen it before.”
    “It doesn’t look like anything Martha would buy.” She handed it back to me and frowned. “Where did she get it?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t think she bought it herself. But no one knows who gave it to her, or when.”
    Darla bit her lower lip. “The Park. It had to be the Park.”
    I pricked up my ears. “Why the Park?”
    She smiled an impish smile. “If you wanted to meet a girl, where would you go?”
    I shrugged. “I just stand still and young ladies flock to me in doe-eyed droves. Why don’t you tell me how