Petticoat Detective Read Online Free Page B

She had been in the room directly across from Rose’s and hadn’t heard a thing, not until the screams. But then again, she’d been occupied at the time. Had Mr. Colton not commanded all her attention, might she have been able to save Rose? It was hard to know and depressing to consider.
    Coral’s eyes narrowed. “Why you asking all these questions?”
    Amy tried to look apologetic. “I didn’t mean to be nosy. I only met Rose the one time, and she struck me as a very nice person.”
    “She was okay, I guess.”
    Not wanting to sound overly interested in Rose, Amy changed the subject. “If you don’t mind my asking … Have you thought about finding another line of work? Something safer?” Something more in keeping with God’s commandments.
    Coral laughed, but her painted face held no mirth. “It looks like you’re in the same boat as me, honey. If a white girl like you can’t find respectable work, how do you expect a darky like me to find it?”

Chapter 4
    L ong after the others had retired to their rooms that night, Amy fought with the dormer window in the attic. Gritting her teeth, she pushed up on the window frame with the heels of her hands, and at last it grumbled open. The sound made her stop to listen.
    The walls groaned and the eaves sighed, but she heard no voices or footsteps. Confident that she and the mice scampering behind the attic walls were the only ones awake, she stuck her head outside.
    Cool night air nipped at her cheeks like a playful puppy. A full moon illuminated the worrisome pitch of the porch roof slanting away from the window. She turned her head to study the distance between the window and the large gnarly oak tree at the side of the house.
    No more than eight feet away, the tree appeared sturdy enough for her purposes. In her youth she could outrun, outclimb, and outride her brothers. It wasn’t for nothing that she earned the name tomboy. Normally she would welcome the challenge of climbing down the tree’s twisted limbs.
    But there was nothing normal about her current situation. Not the fancy, bright-colored gowns she was forced to wear with their flyaway sleeves and Grand Canyon necklines. And certainly not Miss Lillian who, since Rose’s death, kept the outer doors locked night and day so no one could enter the house or leave without her knowledge.
    The window offered the only way to circumvent Miss Lillian’s guard. Upon arriving in town, she’d checked into the Grande Hotel and Bath House, and her clothes were still there. She’d searched for the skirt and shirtwaist worn the day she arrived at the parlor house but was told that any clothes deemed unsuitable by Miss Lillian’s standards were relegated to the ragman.
    Amy had free use of the garments in her room, but some dresses started too late and others hardly started at all. Retrieving something more practical, not to mention more modest to wear, took top priority.
    To allow free movement she was dressed in only a white silk camisole and petticoat, under which she wore silk drawers. She dropped her bundle of clothes outside the window to be donned once she reached the ground.
    She was willing to do a lot of crazy things, but climbing down a tree in a long skirt and saddlebag bustle was not one of them. The bundle also held her report to headquarters. The post office was closed, of course, but she hoped to find an outside box in which to deposit mail.
    She glanced at the ground below. It had been many years since she’d last climbed a tree, and though she’d done her share of chasing outlaws, most had been on flat land. But she could do it. Had to do it. She desperately needed something decent to wear.
    Lord, just don’t let me break my neck
. There were many honorable things worth dying for, but modesty wasn’t one of them.
    Careful preparation and planning were essential parts of undercover work, but since arriving in Goodman she’d been working on the fly, and that’s how mistakes happened. But tonight she