Page 30 of Fairest of Heart

The desk clerk stood before him. “Mr. Kingsley?”

Titus nodded. “Yep.”

“Mr. Hathaway is ready for you, sir.”

Titus collected his black sack coat and slipped his arms into the sleeves. One didn’t meet with the Hubert Hathaways of the world in shirtsleeves. He tucked his notepad into his coat pocket to nestle against the pencil already inside, then took his hat from the hook near the door and fit it to his head.

Stepping into the hall, he pulled the door closed behind him, then gestured to his escort. “Lead on.”

The clerk led Titus downstairs, through the lobby, then wound to the back of the building before knocking on a large mahogany door.

“Enter.”

The clerk unlatched the door and pushed it open to reveal an office the size of a small house, paneled in dark wood that had been oiled to a deep shine.

“Mr. Kingsley to see you, sir.”

“Very good. Thank you, Peters.”

Titus stepped into the room and strode up to the desk as if he weren’t awed in the slightest by his surroundings. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Hathaway.”

The hotel owner stood, came around the side of his desk, and extended his hand, a wide grin on his face. “I appreciate you coming, Ranger Kingsley.”

The man’s affable nature caught Titus by surprise. Actually, everything about Hubert Hathaway took him by surprise. Short in stature, probably only two or three inches over five feet, Hathaway wore a royal blue suit with a thin plaid pattern woven through the fabric. As if he were some kind of blue sundae, he’d topped things off with a cherry red necktie. His wavy blond hair was parted slightly off-center and heavily pomaded, while his thick whiskers ran down his sideburns before draping over his upper lip like a garland on a railing. His bare chin reminded Titus a bit of a marionette puppet, yet it was his twinkling blue eyes that arrested Titus’s attention.

Titus shook the man’s hand, then removed his hat as Mr. Hathaway showed him to a chair.

“I’ll take that for you,” Hathaway said as he reached for Titus’s hat.

“Thanks.”

The man was certainly a good fit for the hospitality business. His friendly manner offered a vivid contrast from the other men Titus had interviewed. He’d dealt with impatience, arrogance, even outright hostility in his previous encounters. Mr. Hathaway’s jovial nature was a pleasant surprise. Rather like the laughing young woman who’d popped out of the ground to spin circles in front of his horse a couple of weeks ago.

Titus slammed the door on that memory. Not the time.

Mr. Hathaway hung Titus’s hat on the stand in the corner, then returned to his desk. Only, he didn’t seat himself in the power position behind it. He placed his hands on the back of the chair next to Titus and scooted it a few feet away, turning it so it faced his guest, then sat down. Titus shifted his own chair around and met Hathaway’s dancing gaze.

“When the sheriff notified me that my case was being turned over to the Rangers, I couldn’t have been more pleased. No finer lawmen in the country.” Hathaway slapped his chair arm. “So tell me, Kingsley. What can I do to help?”

Titus pulled his pencil and notebook from his pocket, then flipped to the page containing the information gathered from the Eulogy town marshal. “I’d like to go over the events leading up to and immediately following the point that you realized your”—he checked the notes—“ruby stickpin disappeared.”

“Of course. I had traveled to Eulogy to visit my sister. Her husband owns a gristmill there. I like to visit a few times a year. Check in on Jenny and dote on my nieces and nephews. Their little house is too small for my liking, though, so my brother-in-law allows me to use his office at the mill. I purchased a large sofa that can double as a bed and installed it in the space. Lonnie gets a nice piece of furniture to impress his business associates, and I get private quarters whenever I’m in town.”

“You’re not married, correct?” Titus found it odd that such a lively and well-to-do fellow hadn’t been leg shackled by an enterprising woman.

“Me? Heavens, no.” Hathaway chuckled. “I can’t imagine tying myself to one woman. Jenny harps at me to settle down, but where’s the fun in that? I tell her I’ll settle down as soon as I find a lady interesting enough to hold my attention for more than a week or so. Until then, variety is the spice of life, eh?”

Hathaway gave him a man-to-man look that didn’t set well on Titus’s conscience. Keeping his expression blank, he jotted a note: Ladies’ man.

“When was the last time you recall seeing the jeweled pin?”

“Before attending the theater.”

Titus looked up from his notes. “There’s no theater in Eulogy.” The place barely had a post office. Population was probably only a hundred fifty.

“I know.” Hathaway chuckled. “Imagine my delight when I discovered there was a thespian troupe from Chicago passing through town offering a one-night-only comedic revue to be performed in the schoolhouse. A trial run for the show they planned to debut in Granbury.”

Something clicked in Titus’s memory. Hadn’t one of the other victims mentioned attending a play? Several of the men had had trouble pinpointing precisely when their items had gone missing, but each of the cities where the thefts occurred had opera houses or community centers large enough to support a theatrical performance. A tingling sensation climbed around in his chest. This could be the link he’d been missing. He’d have to wire the other lawmen, get them to confirm whether or not the other victims attended a similar performance.