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No one was in the anteroom but Miss Pear's jacket and usual straw bonnet decorated with a bunch of faded silk violets, hung on the rack by the door. Sibella looked about, heard some noise from Adam's office, but before she took more than three steps, Miss Pear appeared in the doorway and jumped, putting her hand to her breast.

"Oh. Mrs. Cartwright, you scared me. I didn't hear the door open."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to sneak in. Is Mr. Cartwright in?" Sibella craned her neck to see inside Adam's office door and tried not to sound suspicious, but just what was Miss Pear doing sneaking about in his office? If sneaking, she was.

Miss Pear pulled the door shut. "No. He said he had business to attend to and didn't know what time he'd be back. I was putting some letters on his desk to be signed. Is there something I can help you with?" Miss Pear stood politely, her elbows bent, her hands clasped at waist-level.

"No, no. I think I'll just wait." Sibella smiled.

"Suit yourself then. I have work to do." And Miss Pear sat at her small desk, first shuffling papers and arranging them in a particular order. Then, inserting paper, both plain and carbonated, she began to type, glancing down at the notes she had obviously taken earlier.

Sibella walked about the room, looking at the framed tintypes of the Ponderosa, its herds of cattle, stands of trees, and then of trains, even of a train crossing a canyon on a trestle built from Ponderosa pine and by Ponderosa crews. The wood frames had engraved small brass plates with the date and subject matter. Some photographs had been taken before the war and some more recently and all were elegantly framed under glass.

Sibella hoped Adam would return soon. Her gossip about Archie Hancock and Fanny Fitzhugh was bubbling at her lips – she wanted to tell Adam as soon as possible that Fanny had shifted her seductive aims totally to young Archie. She sighed and looked at the Regulator, the same type of clock that had been in her schoolgirl classrooms. That was Adam – function over fancy looks. Sibella turned her attention to Miss Pear who was wearing her hair in a new style.

"I've always wanted to learn how to type," Sibella said pleasantly, walking to the side of Miss Pear; the better to look at Miss Pear's new fringe of bangs and the wide velvet ribbon tied about her head over where the part would be. To her knowledge, Miss Pear, at least every time she had seen the woman before, wore her hair severely pulled back in a chignon. Now, she had a charming fringe of bangs that was most flattering, softening up her features and making her look at least five years younger. And perhaps a touch of rouge on her lips and cheeks. Miss Pear wasn't yet old, per se, but she was, as Sibella knew, a "spinster". And as much as Sibella detested that image, since she herself had been intentionally close to becoming one herself until Adam stole her heart by an indirect route, most women only wanted a husband, home and children. And in a manner, Sibella envied Miss Pear. After all, Miss Pear had a good job and earned her way in the world, something Sibella had desired to do before she met Adam. But he had tapped into the hunger and desire she hadn't even know had been stirring within her. Did he have the same effect on Miss Pear? And for once, Sibella looked at Miss Pear as a possible seductress. What was it like working so close to Adam? When he was near Miss Pear, when she smelled his singular scent, heard his voice, did it make her heat-up? Did Miss Pear want Adam as Sibella had? Would she abandon all reserve as Sibella had done and throw herself at Adam's head – or lower?

After all, Miss Pear was with Adam more hours each day than she herself was – unless one counted sleeping. Sibella suddenly wished she had bought a frizette from Mme. Adair when she had the chance. Maybe she could find one in Carson City; a mail order hair piece was so difficult to match.

"Is typing hard to learn?" Sibella asked.

Miss Pear, without pausing in her task, said, "No, but it takes practice, a lot of practice. And concentration."

Sibella knew the comment was meant for her to be quiet, but… "Were Mr. Philpot and Mr. Hancock in yet?"

"Yes."

"At what time?"

This time, Miss Pear did stop typing, taking her eyes away from her task, and looked at Sibella, her mouth tight. This silly woman in her fashionable dress shared a bed with Adam Cartwright every night, Miss Pear considered. And what was even worse was what they probably did together in that bed and the image of them coupling, tussling in the sheets, burned in her brain. So, with a sharpness of tone that Miss Pear only used with barking dogs and misbehaving children, she said, "At 8:30. Mr. Cartwright came in early to meet them and they signed the needed papers, had a glass of whiskey and cigars – well, Mr. Philpot and Mr. Hancock did."

"Yes, I can smell cigar smoke," Sibella remarked. She remembered how her father was forced to step outside to smoke his Figurado cigars, due to his wife's edict that cigar smoke stank up the drapes and upholstery. Mr. Atherton had shared the fine cigars with Adam who from then on, ordered Figurados straight from Cuba, not only for himself and his father, but to share with clients upon closing a deal.

"Now if you wouldn't mind, Mrs. Cartwright, I am busy."

"Of course. So sorry. But one more question." Miss Pear paused, waiting. "Mr. Cartwright didn't say where he was going or when he would be back, did he?"

"No to both questions." And the clicking of the typewriter keys began again.

~ 0 ~

"Sibella, I swear - if were we home, I'd take you over my knee right now." Adam was so angry his color rose.

"Perhaps tonight," Sibella said coyly, trying to bring that devilish smile to his face. But he would have none of it

Adam shook a finger at her. "I told you to stay home! Why didn't you?"

"If you wanted to tell me what to do, you should have adopted me instead of marrying me."

A sound of frustration, similar to a bellow, came from Adam. Sibella jumped. "That's it! I'm going to park your sweet ass and Noah on the Ponderosa until this murder is solved, and as for Chauncey…"

"Don't be angry at Chauncey. I gave him the impression I was going to the Ponderosa."

"You what?"

"I implied that I was going to visit your father and his company. Don't be angry with him just because he believed me." Sibella looked down at her gloves, paying particular attention to the seaming and the small pearl buttons at the wrist."

"Oh, that's right; he's not familiar with your creative way of twisting words. Fine. I'll take my full fury out on you!" Adam grabbed her elbow and steered her toward the door. The sound of the typewriter started again. Sibella noticed; obviously Miss Pear had been listening.

"Wait," Sibella said. "I have something interesting to tell you, Adam. Really." Sibella looked up at Adam, at his dark eyes and the mouth that was far too tender and lush for a man. "Do you want to hear? And let me say, I haven't been anywhere near the milliner's shop just as you said, although…" She dropped her voice. "…I think Miss Pear has. Yesterday morning."

"What? Are you accusing Miss Pear…"

Sibella put a finger to his mouth and moved away from the door. "Shhhh! Didn't you notice Miss Pear's hairstyle today?"

"No. Why would I notice her hair?"

"Because I think she fixed it with you in mind."

"What are you talking about?" Adam was confused. Women and the things they thought important!

"Miss Pear is wearing a frizette." Sibella stepped back with satisfaction, watching Adam as he considered the information.

"And? You said you had considered buying one. That doesn't mean anything." Adam couldn't conceive how Miss Pear could be involved in Mme. Adair's murder - but she was wearing a new frizette. "How much are they-one of these frizettes?"

"Up to $15.00. It all depends on the quality of the hair and how well it is made. Do you pay Miss Pear enough that she could splurge on such an item?" Sibella cocked her head, waiting.

"She's paid $40.00 a month and I'm considering giving her a raise. Things are costing more now than just last month. What are you suggesting, Sibella?"

"Remember? Mr. Philpot and Archie said they saw her rushing about, upset - oh, and I have something to tell you about Archie and Fanny Fitzhugh. I was coming here and saw…"

"Sibella, Sibella – one thing at a time. Now, Mr. Philpot and Archie Hancock saw Miss Pear yesterday morning. Of what significance is that?"

"She had a box, dropped it, and was all upset. Remember what they said? And it was early."

"And that is proof of what? That Miss Pear stole the frizette from…" Adam stopped, his brows furrowed. "Sibella, I can't ask her about her hair, if it's a false hair piece she stole from a dead woman's shop."

"Maybe she killed Mme. Adair."

"For a hair piece? Please, Sibella. And Miss Pear isn't a killer."

"How do you know? Maybe she killed for…"

"For what?"

Sibella was going to say, "for love of you," but stopped herself. The idea that any woman would think she could turn Adam's head with a strip of false curls, Adam would find laughable.

"Maybe we should tell Sheriff Coffee," Sibella said.

Adam sat on the corner of his desk, his arms crossed. "I've already been to Roy this morning. We sent a wire to the records department in Washington that catalogued Confederate fatalities and asked about Corporal Declan Griffith. Then I sent an invitation to both Mr. Philpot and Archie Hancock for dinner Sunday night at the Ponderosa."

"Why? What have they to do with anything?"

"I don't know that they do but it just seems too much of a coincidence that they're all here. Something's itching at me and I can't rest until I've put everything in order." He sighed. "Now I suppose, just to put my mind and yours to rest, that I'll compliment Miss Pear on her hair and see what happens. On your way out, tell Miss Pear I need to see her."

"On my way out? But I want to be here when you ask her?"

"No, Sibella. You wait in the outer office. Now go ask her to come in."

~ 0 ~

A sobbing woman always made Roy Coffee feel helpless. "Can I get you a glass of water?" he asked Miss Pear. She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief Mr. Cartwright had handed her, but her head remained bowed. Adam stood beside her chair, his arms crossed high on his chest.

Sibella stood quietly by the doorway, feeling guilty – for what she wasn't quite sure but now she wished she had never brought up the whole matter. But deep down, Sibella knew she had brought up the hair piece because she feared that Adam might eventually be won over by the compliant, obliging and ever-ready-to-serve, Miss Pear. Sibella told herself that from now on, she would be a better wife to Adam, a more obedient and submissive wife – well, as soon as the murderer was found out.

"Let me go over this one more time," Roy said in a gentle voice. "You went by Mme. Adair's shop to pick up this…frizzy…"

"Frizette," Adam said. Roy looked at him puzzled as to why Adam was so familiar with the name, but Adam only shrugged his shoulders.

"You went to pick it up, the frizette. Mme. Adair was expecting you and since you were opening Mr. Cartwright's office early, she said she'd open the shop early and for you to go to the back door, that it would be unlocked. Is that right?"

"Yes," Miss Pear said.

"Well, that explains why the back door wasn't jimmied. Go on, Miss Pear."

"Mme. Adair was going to show me again how to attach the fringe – I had already paid for it - 12 dollars - so when I went in and…and…she was – well, she was already dead. I saw the frizette and I just put it in a box and left but I didn't kill her! I'm telling you, she was dead already!"

Roy, ran a hand over his face. "Miss Pear, why didn't you come tell me?"

Miss Pear looked up at Adam and then down at the handkerchief that she has wrung into a length of fabric. "I was afraid you would think I killed her and then you'd arrest me and I'd miss work and Mr. Cartwright would have no one to help him and I'd be fired…" She broke into sobs again, hiding her face in her hands.

Adam put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's all right, Miss Pear. It's all right." He looked at Roy. "Well, can she go? I think she's told you everything she knows."

Sniffling, Miss Pear looked up piteously at Roy.

"Well…I tell you what, Miss Pear. You go straight home and stay there. Don't go anywhere today or the whole weekend. Actually, not until I tell you you can. Understand? I have to do some investigating of all you said."

"But I have work to do back at the office!" She looked up at Adam. "There are letters on your desk for you to sign and I was going to post them on my way home. And the philodendron, well, it's becoming too long, vining too much and I was going to trim it back."

"It's all right, Miss Pear. I'll close the office for the rest of the day and I have no need of you Saturday morning – I have other matters to take care of anyway. As for Monday, well, we'll deal with that when it's Monday."

Miss Pear smiled. "Thank you, thank you both, sirs, especially you, Mr. Cartwright." Miss Pear stood and looked at the crumpled cloth in her hand. "I'll wash and iron your handkerchief."

"It's not necessary, really." Adam smiled benevolently.

"No. I will." And with a small smile to Roy Coffee and one last glance at Adam, Miss Pear placed her straw bonnet on her head and left the sheriff's office.

"Well," Roy said, "that was interesting. Seems I'll walk over to the Palace Hotel and have a little talk with Mr. Philpot and Mr. Hancock. Hear what they have to say about the matter, if their version matches Miss Pear's. Then I'll swing by the telegrapher's and see if there's a reply to our wire."

"Oh, Sheriff Coffee, stop by Mr. Hancock's room first," Sibella said, smiling.

"Why?" Roy asked.

"Mr. Philpot may still be out. At least he was out a bit over an hour ago. He's the type to take long lunches. But Mr. Hancock was in."

"Thank you for the information, ma'am," Roy said. "I guess I'll be on my way there." And Roy tipped his hat. "You going back to the office?" Roy asked Adam as the three headed for the door.

"Just to lock up. I'm taking Sibella home and tomorrow morning, I'm going to Carson City; I have some business there. Sibella, let's go, dear." And Adam smiled as he extended his right arm indicating she go first. And as she passed, Adam whispered, "You have a lot to explain, my sweet. Especially why you went to see Archie Hancock."