When the two men returned at the end of the workday to sign the papers, Gideon could see they had spent the interim at a saloon. They were quite pleased with themselves.

“I took the liberty of telephoning the local offices of both Standard Oil and the Texas Company to verify that those companies do own the adjoining property,” Gideon told them. He wasn’t sure this would please Waterson, but he had only been protecting his client.

“You see, Waterson, this is why I like Bates so much. He takes good care of my interests,” Coleman said.

“I don’t know why you felt that was necessary,” Waterson said, a little affronted, “but I’m sure you discovered that they do own the property.”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” He’d also discovered that they had made no efforts to develop it and seemed ignorant of the vast oil deposits shown on Waterson’s map. He didn’t think mentioning that would serve any purpose, though. He wouldn’t lie, but if no one asked . . .

“Good, good,” Waterson said, not asking anything at all.

“We just need your earnest-money payment, Mr. Coleman,” Gideon said.

“A thousand, wasn’t it?” Coleman asked, reaching for his wallet.

Gideon would not have been surprised to be paid in boodle, which was a wrapped stack of bills with real money on the top and bottom and the rest blank paper, but Coleman gave him ten one-hundred-dollar bills. Then both men signed the contract, although Gideon figured neither was using his legal name, so the whole thing was certainly unenforceable.

“We will hold the contract and the earnest money for thirty days or until you close the sale on the property,” Gideon explained. “If Mr. Coleman purchases the property as agreed, he will be refunded the earnest money. If he does not, it will be payable to you, Mr. Waterson.”

“Don’t worry, Waterson,” Coleman said because it appeared he really was worried about something. “I’m going to close this deal as fast as I can.”

Waterson gave him a thin smile. “My clients will be very pleased.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Freddie wants to help,” Anna told Elizabeth. She had come by on her way home from class on Monday afternoon to convince Elizabeth to let her new friend participate in the Madame Ophelia con.

“I’m sure she does if you’ve made it sound as exciting as you think it is,” Elizabeth said. “But what could she actually do?”

“You don’t know her like I do. She could do anything.” Anna looked so determined. She had really developed self-confidence since she had started studying at Hunter College.

They were sitting in the parlor with Mother Bates, who was working on a needlepoint pillow cover. She didn’t even look up. “So you think she could do anything? That is an impressive recommendation coming from someone who first helped Elizabeth by committing a murder.”