Page 25 of The Time for Love
“It is,” Martin replied. “I hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right.” He grimaced. “The problem is that the only two people who’ve made any sort of demand regarding Carmichael Steelworks are you and me.”
Oliver huffed. “And it’s not us, so…who?”
There was no answer to that, not yet. However…
Martin looked at Sophy. “Today, your luck held, and disaster didn’t eventuate. But your luck isn’t going to hold forever. The next accident or the next is liable to be deadly. You—we—need to put an end to this.”
Oliver raised his hand. “Count me in. I was a witness today, and I didn’t like what I saw. This sort of thing…no matter what industry is being affected, it can’t be allowed to go on.” He looked at Martin, then at Sophy. “Consider me another pair of reasonably intelligent eyes and ears, another brain, a different perspective. I would like to help.”
Sophy looked at Martin, who looked steadily back at her. The decision had to be hers.
She returned her gaze to Oliver and, transparently suspicious, arched her brows, wordlessly questioning his altruism.
He reluctantly smiled and dipped his head. “I do have an ulterior motive.” He shot an assessing glance at Martin. “I want to make a counteroffer for the steelworks, but this situation needs to be resolved first. So you might say that me helping you put an end to these accidents is furthering my own aims.”
Martin wryly grinned; he wasn’t the least surprised by Oliver’s refusal to back away. Regardless, he remained confident of winning in any eventual competition for Sophy’s favor.
When she turned her gaze on him, her turquoise eyes plainly asking if he was willing to accept Oliver even though he was determined to cast himself as a rival over purchasing the steelworks if she ever contemplated selling, he nodded. “The more people we can trust to work with us on this, the better, and the sooner we’ll get to the bottom of whatever is going on.” He arched a brow. “If you’re willing for Oliver to join us?”
She studied Oliver again, then nodded decisively. “Thank you, Mr. Coulter. Your help will be welcome.”
He smiled. “Please, just Oliver.”
Sophy inclined her head just as the works’ whistle screeched to announce the midday break. She glanced at Martin, then looked at Oliver. “If you’re free, Oliver, perhaps you would join Martin and me at the Crofton Arms. They have a useful snug in the privacy of which we can go over all the incidents, consider the possible perpetrators, and discuss what we should do.”
Oliver grinned; as Sophy pushed to her feet, he and Martin rose. “I would be delighted to join you, Miss Carmichael.”
“Sophy, please.” With a wry smile for Martin, she led the way to the door. “We’re all in this together, it seems.”
* * *
Martin followed Sophy into the snug and waited while she sat on the bench against the wall, as she had before. When she glanced up at him, he looked steadily at her, and with the faintest of blushes, she gathered her skirts and shuffled farther along. Hiding a smile, he sat beside her.
Oliver glanced around, noting that they were the only ones in the small room, then slid onto the bench on the other side of the table.
Saul appeared and took their orders. Today’s special was rabbit stew, and after Martin recommended the ale, he and Oliver ordered pints of that while Sophy stuck to her cider.
They settled and exchanged desultory comments until their drinks and meals arrived. Tempted by the delicious aroma, they all started on the stew.
After savoring two mouthfuls, Oliver leaned forward and, voice low, said, “Those accidents you mentioned, the ones that occurred inside the works. Is there anything that connects them?”
Sophy glanced at Martin, deflecting the question to him. She ate and listened as he outlined the evidence that suggested the perpetrator had visited the works the night before each accident, apparently using a key.
She cut in to explain why there’d been only one key to all the locks and that no one had kept a record of who held a key. “So this morning, we had the locksmith around and had all the locks changed.”
“Now, the various people have only the keys that are pertinent to their job.” Martin glanced at Sophy. “Of course, attacking Carmichael’s by sabotaging the delivery from Atlas required no key. At least not to the Carmichael site.” He frowned. “I’ve never been to the Atlas Works’ site. Would it have been easy to reach their delivery drays?”
She thought, then waggled her head. “If whoever did it was willing to scale a tall fence, then it wouldn’t have been difficult. The drays are lined up in the open yard, not shut away. Mind you, I’m not sure how they knew which dray would have carried our pig iron—” She broke off, then grimaced. “Most likely, the Atlas crew loaded our dray yesterday, ready to leave this morning, and left the ticket for the delivery driver on the load. We always get that delivery today—it’s a standing order.”
“So no way forward there,” Martin said.
Oliver observed, “It’ll be interesting to see if you have any further accidents now that you’ve changed the locks.”
Sophy nodded.
Silence fell as they ate and thought. Eventually, Martin said, “I keep tripping over the motive. Why would anyone want to damage a business such as the steelworks? What possible benefit could it yield?”
After a moment, Oliver said, “If one were wanting to buy Carmichael Steelworks as an ongoing business”—with his knife, he indicated Martin and himself—“as you and I wish to, then attacking it in this manner makes no sense at all. But what if someone wants to buy the business and absorb it into their own ongoing enterprise, renaming it and making it into something similar but different?”
