The Second Shot (The Dueling Pistols) Read Online Free
Author: Katy Madison
"Oh, you wish to see where..." Miss Lungren stood rooted to the spot.
"If you would just point, I'm sure I can manage to find the room on my own."
"Why?"
How much had she heard? Randleton moved behind Tony. "There might be a note."
Anger flashed across the woman's face. "No. There wasn't a note."
"Have you looked thoroughly?" asked Tony. He knew there wasn't a note. Murder victims didn't leave notes, but it gave him and Randy an excuse to search the room. "Do you know of any reason your brother might have...?"
Her head moved side to side in a more distraught manner than an ordinary "no" would have taken. She stepped back and bumped against the doorframe. Her voice shaking as she spoke, she said, "Perhaps you should look. Perhaps I did not look well enough. Perhaps...perhaps I was distracted."
Worried she was on the edge of collapse, Tony reached out and grabbed her elbow. She jerked back. It reminded him of the way Felicity had yanked away from him earlier in the evening. "Miss Lungren, you should sit down."
"No, I'm fine." She stepped forward as if she regretted recoiling. "I don't want to sit down."
"Please, you are very distressed." He should comfort her, but the thought that Felicity was waiting for him to return with a glass of lemonade kept his arms by his side.
Rosalyn spun on her heels and marched down the passageway, as if she had barely gotten up the nerve to return to the place of her brother's death and was afraid to go slowly lest the courage desert her. Tony was hard-pressed keeping up with her given his limp.
She threw back the door and then hovered near the doorway. Tony had to shoulder by her to get into the library. Across the room, two low-slung wing chairs flanked the fireplace. One had a large, dark stain flowing down from just below where a head would rest. A maid was on her hands and knees behind the chair, scrubbing the wooden floor with a flat brush, a reddish-brown stain covering a towel near her knees.
"Molly, you may stop."
The maid flattened her mouth.
"No, let her continue." Tony's eyes flashed along the pristine row of bookshelves not four feet behind the chair, and then back to the grim-faced maid. He wanted to question her after Rosalyn left the room. "She won't disturb us."
"The estate papers are kept in that desk." Rosalyn pointed. Then, as if she had marked the escritoire as a buoy to swim to and cling to for safety, she darted across the room to it.
Her face was so pale, Tony wondered what strength she drew on to offer assistance to them. She had to be near collapse.
She pulled out a drawer.
Randy caught his eye. The concern and the question Should we tell her? was as plain as the freckles on his face.
Tony shook his head. She didn't need any more shocks tonight, and they needed proof before making accusations.
"They're gone!" Rosalyn shrieked.
Suddenly there was a flurry of paper in the air as she tossed aside the contents of the drawer and leaned over to yank open another.
Tony headed toward her, but Randleton beat him there. The lieutenant wrapped his arms around her flailing arms. It was amazing she had taken this long to turn hysterical.
"Get her out of here," hissed Tony in a low command.
"No! The papers. The deed to the estate. I have to find them!"
She tried to wrench away from Randy's restraining arms, but with Tony in front of her adding his sure grip to her shoulders, she broke into sobs.
"What has he done?" She covered her face with her hands.
"Most likely moved the important papers to another place. They'll turn up."
"No, oh, no." Rosalyn resumed her swaying, dragging Randy back and forth. "He said...he said...Oh, God, I'll kill that man."
Randy recoiled from the distraught woman.
Tony continued to grip her shoulders, although he, too, had been shocked by the vehement declaration right after learning Captain Lungren had been murdered. But she couldn't be referring to her brother. He was already dead. "Who said what?"
"He said he had to repay a
"If you would just point, I'm sure I can manage to find the room on my own."
"Why?"
How much had she heard? Randleton moved behind Tony. "There might be a note."
Anger flashed across the woman's face. "No. There wasn't a note."
"Have you looked thoroughly?" asked Tony. He knew there wasn't a note. Murder victims didn't leave notes, but it gave him and Randy an excuse to search the room. "Do you know of any reason your brother might have...?"
Her head moved side to side in a more distraught manner than an ordinary "no" would have taken. She stepped back and bumped against the doorframe. Her voice shaking as she spoke, she said, "Perhaps you should look. Perhaps I did not look well enough. Perhaps...perhaps I was distracted."
Worried she was on the edge of collapse, Tony reached out and grabbed her elbow. She jerked back. It reminded him of the way Felicity had yanked away from him earlier in the evening. "Miss Lungren, you should sit down."
"No, I'm fine." She stepped forward as if she regretted recoiling. "I don't want to sit down."
"Please, you are very distressed." He should comfort her, but the thought that Felicity was waiting for him to return with a glass of lemonade kept his arms by his side.
Rosalyn spun on her heels and marched down the passageway, as if she had barely gotten up the nerve to return to the place of her brother's death and was afraid to go slowly lest the courage desert her. Tony was hard-pressed keeping up with her given his limp.
She threw back the door and then hovered near the doorway. Tony had to shoulder by her to get into the library. Across the room, two low-slung wing chairs flanked the fireplace. One had a large, dark stain flowing down from just below where a head would rest. A maid was on her hands and knees behind the chair, scrubbing the wooden floor with a flat brush, a reddish-brown stain covering a towel near her knees.
"Molly, you may stop."
The maid flattened her mouth.
"No, let her continue." Tony's eyes flashed along the pristine row of bookshelves not four feet behind the chair, and then back to the grim-faced maid. He wanted to question her after Rosalyn left the room. "She won't disturb us."
"The estate papers are kept in that desk." Rosalyn pointed. Then, as if she had marked the escritoire as a buoy to swim to and cling to for safety, she darted across the room to it.
Her face was so pale, Tony wondered what strength she drew on to offer assistance to them. She had to be near collapse.
She pulled out a drawer.
Randy caught his eye. The concern and the question Should we tell her? was as plain as the freckles on his face.
Tony shook his head. She didn't need any more shocks tonight, and they needed proof before making accusations.
"They're gone!" Rosalyn shrieked.
Suddenly there was a flurry of paper in the air as she tossed aside the contents of the drawer and leaned over to yank open another.
Tony headed toward her, but Randleton beat him there. The lieutenant wrapped his arms around her flailing arms. It was amazing she had taken this long to turn hysterical.
"Get her out of here," hissed Tony in a low command.
"No! The papers. The deed to the estate. I have to find them!"
She tried to wrench away from Randy's restraining arms, but with Tony in front of her adding his sure grip to her shoulders, she broke into sobs.
"What has he done?" She covered her face with her hands.
"Most likely moved the important papers to another place. They'll turn up."
"No, oh, no." Rosalyn resumed her swaying, dragging Randy back and forth. "He said...he said...Oh, God, I'll kill that man."
Randy recoiled from the distraught woman.
Tony continued to grip her shoulders, although he, too, had been shocked by the vehement declaration right after learning Captain Lungren had been murdered. But she couldn't be referring to her brother. He was already dead. "Who said what?"
"He said he had to repay a
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