Free Petticoat Detective by Margaret Brownley Page A

Gunnysack Bandit. I will, of course, need to come and go as I please.”
    Miss Lillian considered her request for all of a minute. “My girls might think it odd that you’re not entertaining guests.”
    “That’s why I need your help to cover for me. I also need access to your ledgers and client list.” She indicated the key chain in Miss Lillian’s hand. “I noticed Rose’s room was locked. I need to do a more thorough search of the crime scene.”
    “You can count on me to help in any way I can.” Miss Lillian pulled a key off her key ring and handed it to Amy.
    Amy felt like a weight had lifted. Miss Lillian’s willingness to help would make things a whole lot easier. “Thank you. I’ll return it as soon as I’m finished.”
    Miss Lillian heaved a sigh. “Rose didn’t deserve to die like that.” Her shoulders fell as did the corners of her mouth. “To think it happened here under my very nose.”
    “No one blames you.”
    “I blame myself.” Miss Lillian rubbed her forehead. “It’s my job to keep my girls safe.”
    “The best thing we can do for Rose right now is to find her killer.” If Colton was right about the Gunnysack Bandit killing Rose, then catching him would give Rose the justice she deserved.
    Miss Lillian appeared cheered by the thought. “I can’t believe I’m working with a real live detective.” She afforded Amy a brilliant smile. “This is more exciting than reading a dime novel. Would I be entitled to the reward for the capture of the Gunnysack Bandit? I’ll use it to do something in memory of Rose.”
    “We can discuss that with the marshal when the time comes,” Amy said. “But of course, if you speak out of turn—”
    “No need to worry. Men used to want my affection.” She paused for a moment as if thinking back on lost youth. “Now all they want is my discretion. I reckon you could say I’m in the business of keeping secrets.”
    Amy stood. “I’m counting on it.” Little did the madam know how much.

Chapter 9
    T om Colton sat in the hotel lobby and pulled out his watch. It was half past four. The lady—Amy—was late. Or maybe she wasn’t coming. He tucked his watch back into his vest pocket and waited. Now that Rose was gone, the green-eyed beauty was his best bet for finding the information needed to track down his brother’s killer.
    Another twenty minutes passed before he spotted her. Pausing at the entryway, she glanced around, her trim figure outlined by the bright afternoon sun. She was tall for a woman—about five foot eight—yet she carried her height with easy grace. Despite the unseasonal warmth of the day, she wore a prim and proper shoulder cape that would have done justice to a schoolmarm.
    Had the very idea of a woman selling her body not been so distasteful, he might have laughed. Some lady of the night. Obviously the woman was in the wrong profession.
    Despite her show of modesty, men gazed at her with covetous eyes. One man approached her, but she gave him the cold shoulder. She turned toward a young blond woman with a small child. For a moment it looked like she knew the young mother, but then she turned away.
    He stood to make his presence known. Acknowledging him with a nod, she walked toward him with stiff dignity. No exaggerated hip swing, no fluttering eyelashes. No flirtatious moves. Just a walk, plain and simple, yet no less fetching.
    “I didn’t think you were coming,” he said. Half expecting Miss Lillian to pounce on him and demand payment, he glanced toward the hotel door. No sign of the madam. His pocketbook was safe—for now.
    “Do you mind being seen in public with me?” she asked, apparently misreading his intent.
    He never much worried about what people thought. Being seen with her wasn’t the problem; working with her was. He’d arrested his share of shady ladies in the past, but never before had he done business with one. Could he trust her?
    “I reckon we could go to my room. That is, if you’d feel more