Hunter leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs, and linking his fingers loosely together. “I agree. But I have reasons to want to have that collapse happen sooner rather than later.”
“Does this involve a woman?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I’ve never known you to request help before. Hell, it was hard enough trying to do my share when we worked cases together with the Rangers.”
“As it happens, it does involve a woman.” He hesitated. “There are complications, however.”
Jeremey smirked. “There always are when a woman is part of the problem.”
“She’s not part of the problem. I’m trying to help her out of a difficult situation.”
“Sounds serious. Not the problem, but you and the woman.”
“That doesn’t matter. I need to get this man for another reason. More important to me than the money scheme.”
Jeremy didn’t respond, just gave Hunter time to state his case.
“Eighteen years ago he murdered my father while I hid under a desk and watched.”
Louis scowled as Sanders barged into his office. “What is it? I’m expecting a client any minute.”
Sanders wiped sweat from his forehead and panted, obviously having maneuvered his bulky frame up the stairs to the office at a fast pace. “I just came from the Club. Word is spreading that some crazy scheme to corner the market on United Copper Company stock is about to collapse. They’re predicting a major run on the banks.”
“So?”
“If there’s a run on the banks here, we’re going to have clients banging our doors down to get their money.”
Louis carefully inserted his fountain pen into the gold-plated inkwell on his desk and sighed. “Sanders, Sanders, Sanders. Must you always panic at the least bit of bad news? We’ve ridden out these rumors before, and we’ll do it again.”
His partner threw his hands out in supplication. “Don’t you understand? The money our clients are expecting us to have is gone.” He leaned in close to Louis, making him turn his head aside at the smell of whiskey. The man was coming apart at the seams. “We’ll be dragged off to jail.”
“We are not going to be dragged off to jail. The client I’m expecting any minute is a wealthy oil man with a lot of money to invest. He just arrived in Galveston to set up a few businesses for investment. I will convince him the major part of his venture should come to us.”
“You’re crazy, you know that, Louis? How much longer do you think we can keep this up?”
Louis stood and shoved his chair back, slamming it against the wall. “I am not crazy! We can keep this up forever.” He waved his arm toward the window. “There are thousands and thousands of people out there with money dripping from their fingers, greedy enough to give it to us with our promise of high returns.”
He adjusted his jacket and sat back down. “I have built an empire here. I give to charity, I have the local politicians in my pocket. The woman on my arm at every function is always the most beautiful in the room. She’s cultured, polished, and everyone loves her, and respects me. I intend to keep it that way. All these bouts of hysteria have to stop. You need to calm down and get out there and find us more clients like my oil man. Get busy and stop worrying about jail.”
All the air seemed to seep out of Sanders. He hung his head and sat in the Italian leather chair in front of Louis’s desk. “You’re right. I don’t know why these things upset me.” He attempted a smile. “Tell me about the oil man.”
Louis glanced at a notebook on his desk. “His name is Jeremy Steele. Comes from an oil family—very wealthy. In 1901 they struck at some place called Spindletop near Beaumont. They have money coming out their asses, and I intend to get my hands on it.”
Sanders stood. “Good, good. I’ll go on back to the Club now and see if I can squash those rumors.” With a shuffle he left the office, closing the door quietly.
Most likely squash the rumors by drowning them in whiskey. My partner is becoming a nuisance.
Hunter lifted his binoculars and watched from across the street as Emily and Louis entered the mansion after an evening out. He’d been observing the house for the past three nights, to assure himself of where Emily’s bedroom was. Within minutes after the front door closed, a light appeared in the window on the second floor, the west side of the house. Seconds before that another light shone from what Hunter had determined was the library.
Four nights in a row. Same two lights shortly after they arrived home. That upstairs window had to be Emily’s bedroom. After about thirty minutes he scooped up the rope he’d brought and tucked the binoculars into the bag at his feet.
That amount of time should be enough for Louis to drink a sufficient amount so he wasn’t too alert. Hunter walked across the street, noting the absence of foot and street traffic. Hopefully that half hour would also have been adequate for Emily to have dismissed her maid.
Earlier that morning he’d scouted the outside of the mansion when he was sure most everyone would still be asleep. It would have been nice if the large tree in the back of the house was actually in front of Emily’s bedroom window, but life wasn’t always convenient.
Since houses of this size and style almost always had servant’s quarters and storage in the rear, he had to take a chance that the window he could crawl into from the tree would be a storeroom. The last thing he wanted was to scare some maid and have her run screaming through the house.