32

Logan checked the note he’d scribbled last night to confirm they’d found the right shop, then stuffed the scrap of paper back into his shirt pocket. “This is the bookseller Christie recalled seeing multiple times in Benson’s ledger.”

Zacharias mounted the boardwalk in front of the shop. The placard read: Baldwin’s Books & Stationery. “All right, then. Let’s go have a chat with Mr. Baldwin.”

Logan glanced behind him before following. An unnecessary move, since Benson had to be at least an hour behind them, yet he couldn’t help himself. He was antsier than a greenhorn at the poker table with his last chip in the pot.

He and Zacharias had risen at dawn, ridden to the outskirts of Ben Franklin, and watched for Benson’s black buggy. As soon as they confirmed the schoolmaster was at the reins and heading for Cooper as planned, they retrieved their mounts and rode cross-country toward the Delta County seat. They shaved off a good four miles from the twelve-mile trek by going overland instead of following the roads. Add to that the average pace of a buggy being much less than a man riding horseback, and they should have gained a substantial lead.

As an extra precaution, they’d paid for stalls at the livery to keep their mounts out of sight. Logan had even shaved his beard and switched out his black duster and Stetson for a blue plaid cotton shirt and floppy tan farmer’s hat he’d borrowed from Seth. Their identities were well and truly hidden.

So why did his gut twist every time he looked over his shoulder?

Shoving aside the uneasy feeling, he snagged the edge of the shop door before it closed in his face and caught up to Zach at the counter.

A friendly fellow with a tidy black suit, spectacles, and pomaded hair parted down the middle stepped down from a ladder attached to a large bookcase on the left side of the store and hustled forward to greet them.

“Morning, gentlemen. What can I help you with this fine day?”

As agreed, Logan allowed Zach to take the lead, going so far as to turn his head away from the shopkeeper as he pretended to peruse the portable writing desks and pen sets on display in the glass case that ran the length of the counter. Best to be as forgettable as possible in case the bookseller happened to mention their visit to Benson later in the day. A nondescript, quiet fellow would draw less notice than the man conducting business, and since Benson had never met Zach, any description the shopkeeper might offer would ring no bells.

“Looking for school books. Readers and the like,” Zach said.

“You’ve come to the right place, sir.” The clerk shuffled over to the shelves near the front door and pulled four different volumes from a low shelf, then hurried back to lay them upon the counter for inspection. “I have primers, readers, and arithmetic books, as well as geography and science texts on hand and can order anything else you might need. Is this for private use, or are you shopping for a school setting? I supply all the schools in Delta County, I’m pleased to say, and even into Commerce and Sulphur Springs. Can’t beat my prices or selection.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Zach said, “’cause I’m needing a goodly supply, but my funds are on the short side.” He surreptitiously glanced around the store, then turned back to Baldwin. “I heard from a confidential source that you were the man to see if one needed a special deal.”

Baldwin reddened and laughed nervously as he started straightening the perfectly tidy shelf next to his elbow. “I have been known to help out a friend from time to time, but I’m afraid this is a business, not a charity organization. Who, uh, recommended me to you?”

Zach crossed his arms over his chest and straightened his posture. “I ain’t askin’ for charity, mister. I know a fellow in Ben Franklin who tells me their kids seem to be getting by on a tight budget. I’m just asking for similar consideration.”

Playing a hunch that Benson was running some kind of shell game with the school board’s funds, Logan and Zach had opted to bluff with deuces instead of kings.

Baldwin stiffened, and his face pinched. “The Ben Franklin School Board is made up of a bunch of empty-headed fluff-mongers, if you ask me. They place more importance on community beautification than the education of their children. It’s shameful.” A gossipy look entered his eyes. He lowered his voice. “Why, I have it on good authority that they squander their budget on items like an engraved school bell, indoor paint, and flowers, of all things, wanting the place to look nice for the various social events that occur there. All this while they scrimp on the very items necessary for education. Flowers over books? Outrageous!”

Baldwin adjusted his spectacles and marched to the far side of the counter, lifted a box from somewhere behind the display case, and set it on the countertop. “Thankfully, the schoolmaster at Ben Franklin cares more about nurturing the minds of his students than beautifying the town. These are books I’ve set aside for him. Secondhand, but in good condition. Even so, he wouldn’t be able to afford the quantity he needs without the land speculation money.”

Logan met Zach’s gaze.

“Land speculation?” Zach masked his surprise as he turned his attention back to the shopkeeper.

Baldwin nodded. “About five years ago, Lawrence invited myself and two other gentlemen here in Cooper to join him in an investment group.”

Logan slipped the scrap of paper out of his shirt pocket and scanned the notations beneath the bookshop name. PB, AG, HC—each of those initials had been listed in the ledger. PB must be Baldwin, first name Paul or Phillip or something. Christie hadn’t known what they meant, but now they had context. An investment group.

“All of us have modest incomes,” Baldwin continued, “yet Lawrence had the clever idea of pooling our resources and using the funds to invest in properties likely to draw the interest of the railroads. We made a tidy profit last year with some acreage around Greenville.”

“Sounds like a savvy play,” Zach flattered.

“It’s worked well so far.” The shopkeeper winked, then grew more serious. “Lawrence is the real mastermind. He manages all the details for us.”

And most likely cheats Baldwin and the other investors as much as he cheats the school board, Logan thought as he picked up a composition booklet from a nearby shelf and fanned the pages.

“He even came up with the idea of tithing our gains.” The shopkeeper idly straightened the schoolbooks in the box so they all stood in tidy columns.

“Tithing?” Zach leaned an elbow on the counter. “Like giving to the church?”

“Precisely.” Baldwin smiled. “Before divvying up the profits, he sets aside ten percent and places it in a special account here in Cooper. Whenever one of us wishes to donate to a charitable cause, we submit our request to the group, and if all agree, the funds are withdrawn. Lawrence submitted his pupils, and we’ve been giving to them on a regular basis. Each time he purchases books from me, I write up two receipts. One for the stingy amount the school board is willing to pay, and the second for the true price, including the tithing money. That way Lawrence can keep an accurate accounting.”

Or an inaccurate accounting. Logan clenched his jaw as Benson’s scheme crystalized in his mind. Baldwin gave the schoolmaster two receipts—one for, say, $200 that didn’t include the tithing money, and one for $400 to show the actual total cost for the books, with each man in the investment group basically donating $50 from their tithing account to make up the difference. Baldwin expected his partner to turn in the $200 receipt to the Ben Franklin School Board and use the second receipt for personal record keeping. But if Benson turned in the $400 receipt and received reimbursement for the higher amount from the school board, that would mean he donated $50 from his tithing money but made $200 from the school board, netting him $150. His partners received nothing from their $50 donation beyond the satisfaction of helping needy schoolchildren, never realizing they were actually helping Benson line his pockets.

A hundred or so dollars here and there would certainly add up, but it didn’t seem a sum worth killing over. Unless the crooked schoolmaster was also skimming money from his investment pool.

Use money siphoned from the school board to invest in land speculation, use the tithing money to perpetuate the con, then cheat his partners from their share of the profits. Give each investor enough profit to satisfy, make them believe they have equal say in what is done with the tithing funds to enhance their illusion of control, all while making off with the lion’s share of the earnings.

It was quite cunning.

And quite illegal.

How much did Benson keep for himself? Fifty percent? Sixty? That might be an amount worth killing over.

Mr. Baldwin’s obvious prejudice against bureaucracy in school governance made him an easy target to manipulate. The other partners would be equally gullible. Yet if those men ever discovered they’d been duped, they’d bring Benson up on charges in a heartbeat.

“I don’t guess you have any more of them secondhand books sitting around, do you?” Zach wisely steered the conversation back to neutral waters. Pressing Baldwin for details now would only rouse suspicions. “Sounds like that’s the price I’m needing.”

“I’m afraid all of these volumes are reserved for the children in Ben Franklin.” Baldwin removed the box from the counter and lowered it out of sight. He fell silent for a moment, then brightened. “I do have some older editions of McGuffeys that I was planning to mark down. I can give those to you at a discount. There’s only about five copies, but it would be a place to start. Oh, and some of the Ray’s Arithmetic series I received in my latest shipment arrived damaged. I can give you those for the cost of the postage it would take to return them. There are only four of those, and they’re all Volume I, I’m afraid, but they’re yours if you want them.”

Yes, this kind man with a heart for children would be livid if he discovered Benson’s perfidy. Not only was Benson shortchanging his pupils, he was profiting from their shortfall.

“I’ll take them,” Zach said. “Thanks. Oh, and do you have a price sheet for your newer schoolbooks? It might help to show a list to our school board, so they have a better idea of the cost of materials.”

“Absolutely.” Baldwin reached beneath the counter and extracted a printed flier. “I work one of these up every year when the new books come in. Yours isn’t the only organization to request such information.” He placed the handbill on the counter and pushed it toward Zach. “I have those books in the back. Let me go wrap them up for you.”

Zach nodded, and as soon as Baldwin disappeared, Logan approached.

“Benson’s got them all bamboozled,” Logan said in a low voice.

Zach scanned the handbill. “Not sure this will be enough to cast doubt on him, but maybe it will get a few board members to start asking questions. Crooks like Benson are smooth as silk on the surface, but their veneer is thin. Start poking at it, and it will tear.”

“If we can couple what we’ve learned from Baldwin with what’s in the ledger, we might even get the law to take an interest.”

Zach frowned. “That’s if Seth found the book. Benson might have moved it out of the schoolhouse.”

The one part of their plan that could easily go awry. They were banking on Benson’s arrogance. But if he’d gotten nervous and moved the incriminating ledger, all they’d have was a price list and an unsubstantiated theory.

Logan turned to face the front windows, scanning the growing number of people out and about. One in particular—a boy of about twelve or thirteen—appeared to be headed toward the bookshop.

“We might have to visit Greenville and dig up some property sales numbers,” Logan said as he angled his face away from the door that was opening. “Show them to Baldwin to see if they match the return on his investment. My guess is that they won’t.”

The bell above the shop door jangled, and the lanky youth bounded inside. Logan turned his back to the boy and pretended interest in a box of ivory writing paper.

Mr. Baldwin emerged from the back of his shop, a stack of thin books under one arm with a length of brown wrapping paper and twine dangling from the opposite hand. He smiled at the boy as he set his items on the counter.

“Billy. Good to see you. What brings you in today?”

The boy glanced at Zach, then gave him a wide berth as he made his way to the counter. “Got a telegram for ya.”

“Ah.” Baldwin accepted the folded message, then opened the till and gave the boy a coin. “Thank you for your timely delivery.”

Billy snatched the coin, tugged on his cap, and made for the door.

“Give my best to your mother,” Baldwin called after him.

A wave was all the response he received as the boy hotfooted it out the door and down the street.

Zach picked up one of the arithmetic books and started examining the slight damage around the binding, giving Baldwin the chance to read his telegram.

“Oh, dear.”

Zach glanced up. “Not bad news, I hope.”

“I’m not sure,” Baldwin said. “Lawrence, the man I told you about? He was supposed to meet with me and the others later this morning, but he wired to say he’s not coming. A situation arose that demanded his immediate attention. I do hope it’s not one of the children.”

Zach jerked his gaze to Logan. The panic surging in Logan’s breast reflected in Hamilton’s eyes.

Seth was walking into a trap.