Murder on the Last Frontier by Cathy Pegau Page A

around her shoulders so it wouldn’t slip off. “Pardon me, Deputy. I’d be honored to take you up on your offer of a dance.”
    Eddington’s dark eyebrows rose. At her boldness, perhaps? But then he grinned. “It would be my honor and pleasure, Miss Brody.”
    He excused himself from the couple, then held his left hand out, palm up. Charlotte took it. His fingers gently closed around hers, and he led her to the dance floor. When they found an open spot, Eddington lifted their hands and twirled her into position, facing him. The move surprised Charlotte. Who would have thought the gruff deputy could be so suave? His right hand rested on her waist, and he stared into her eyes. She moistened her lips. “I hope I didn’t take you away from any important business, Deputy.”
    â€œNothing of the sort. And please, call me James.”
    The musicians were at the opposite end of the floor, making conversation possible. Other couples spoke to one another without her hearing them, and Charlotte hoped she could discuss the pair in the alley in some semblance of privacy. She moved in closer, inhaling a combination of tobacco and wool. His hand at her waist slid to the small of her back.
    â€œI need to tell you what I heard,” she said, her mouth near his ear.
    â€œGossip about the Bartletts’ cook?” he whispered. “I know she keeps a bottle of rye in the root cellar.”
    Charlotte squeezed his hand in rebuke, but she laughed. “No. Something serious.”
    Eddington drew his head back to look at her, but kept their bodies close. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Violation of the Alaska dry law is serious, Miss Brody.”
    â€œBut probably not heeded as the government wishes. No, this is about Darcy Dugan.”
    His amusement fled. “What about her?”
    She gave him a brief description of what she’d heard and the circumstances. Though he continued to lead her through the dance steps without faltering, his gaze darted throughout the room. She knew he was listening, but he seemed to be searching for suspects as well.
    â€œAnd you have no idea who it could have been?” he asked as he spun her around an older couple.
    Charlotte surveyed the attendees. “No. They could have been anyone. I’m sorry.”
    Eddington immediately brought his attention to her. “Nothing to be sorry about. You’ve given us more to go on. At least two people know more about the murder than they’re willing to admit.”
    â€œDo you think they were working together?” The possibility startled Charlotte. “Planned it?”
    He shrugged and went through the motion of giving her a polite bow as the music ended. “Or one told the other. I’d wager a man delivered the fatal blows, though some women are certainly strong enough. I’ve questioned Brigit and the girls, but either they saw nothing or are lying for some reason. Hard to say.”
    â€œWhy would they lie? I’d think they’d want to find out who killed one of their own.” It made no sense, but human nature was often a mystery. It also led to some of the best stories.
    â€œThe houses here and the marshal’s office have an understanding,” he said. “They operate more or less freely as long as they aren’t blatantly advertising, but that doesn’t translate to trust.”
    Perhaps an unbiased third party like herself could get more out of Brigit and her girls. Charlotte already had a rapport with Marie. That would be a good place to start.
    Deputy Eddington tucked Charlotte’s arm under his and escorted her to the table where Michael and Ruth sat with another couple. Michael glanced between her and his fiancée, his expression a familiar one of exasperation. What had she done now?
    â€œAre you all right, Charlotte?” Ruth asked coolly. “Mother said you were feeling poorly.”
    â€œI’m—” Oh.