Kathleen Y'Barbo (10 page)

His best friend knew him well. And yet the fact Lucas had got the jump on him irked Kyle.

“Happy New Year, my friend,” Lucas said.

“I return the sentiment.”

A thought occurred. Though his friend sat there, it had not been Lucas’s voice he heard. “How did you change the sound of your voice?”

Lucas retrieved what appeared to be a brass tube with a cap at one end and handed it to Kyle. Upon closer inspection, he noted a small speaking tube with some sort of reed inside.

“All right.” He returned the device to the former Pinkerton agent and then sprawled on the chair across from him. “Show me how it works.”

After an impressive demonstration, Lucas set it aside. “Like it?”

Kyle grinned. “Much better than the last harebrained idea you showed me. I cannot imagine there is need for an automated postage machine. Who is in that much hurry, Lucas? Honestly, if a man cannot be bothered to stop and put a stamp on a letter, then he is just lazy.”

“Hey, now,” Lucas protested with a laugh. “We agreed to disagree on that one. You will thank me when the patent is approved.” He paused. “Any news on the big case that brought you to Memphis?”

Kyle shrugged. “I personally think it is a ridiculous waste of time to go hunting after lost treasure. The war ended twenty years ago. Anything claimed to be hidden has either been quietly found or never existed in the first place.”

“And yet someone cared enough to hire the Pinks to settle the question for certain. Any idea who that might be?”

Kyle thought carefully before he spoke. “Henry says the assignment goes all the way to the top.”

“President Cleveland?” Lucas made a face. “You’re joking. Why? He has been voted out and will vacate the White House in a couple of months.”

“On the fourth of March, which happens to be the same day my assignment ends.”

Lucas let the silence lengthen. “So,” he finally said, “have you asked?”

“Asked if I am working for the president? Of course. The boss says he cannot confirm, but he does not deny it either. Apparently Will Pinkerton himself agreed to take on the case.”

His friend let out a low whistle. “It must be a big deal to someone then.”

“Agreed. And as to Cleveland being a one-term president, he’s claiming he’ll be back in four years.”

Lucas chuckled. “Don’t they all? But, seriously, what purpose would it serve a president to have Pinkertons out hunting for missing Confederate gold?”

“Henry’s guess is the president believes the gold belonged to the Treasury. What better way to leave than by being the man who deposited rebel gold in federal coffers?”

“I suppose so, but why Memphis?”

“I got a tip that some of the gold passed through a bank here in town under the guise of a woman whose name did not end up appearing in any of their records.”

“Not that someone trying to hide gold would use a real name.”

“I thought of that. And I have another lead that will eventually take me home to check out the main branch of the Bank of Louisiana.” He paused as he allowed his interest in the topic to shift. “What are you doing here?”

“I got your message,” Lucas said as he shifted positions. “And as I was heading back to Natchez, I thought I would bring the flying device back with me unless you have further use for it.”

“Actually, I would prefer to give it another test run before I depart.”

He had not planned on another test run. He hadn’t even given it a thought. However, if he could find the society scientist, then maybe another flight was not such a bad idea.

“All right.” Lucas grinned. “I bring greetings from New Orleans. Cousin Winthrop was married this afternoon.”

“Is that so?” Kyle thought of Flora’s cousin and the woman to whom he had been engaged. “I’m guessing that might have been a little uncomfortable for some of you, given that the bride’s father died in a shoot-out trying to kill your wife.”

Lucas shook his head. “That was almost two years ago, and no one is going to hold the man’s wife and daughters responsible for bad decisions they did not make. But let’s change the subject. How did the test flight go?”

“It went well. I think its time to go back to the lawyers and complete the patent application for the steering device.”

“That good?”

“Better.”

“About our patent attorney...I bring good news.”

“Oh?” Kyle’s hopes rose. They had at least a dozen inventions awaiting approval and twice that under consideration by the patent attorney. “Which one?”

“The weapons noise reduction system,” Lucas said with a look of satisfaction.

“That
is
good news. I have not yet had reason to use mine in the field, but having the noise of gunfire reduced or eliminated completely is going to prove useful.”

Lucas nodded. “Apparently we should also get good news on the crystal oscillator, the electrostatic precipitator, and the radio direction finder soon. But enough of that. Tell me more about the flight tests. Were we correct in our fuel calculations?”

“I was able to sustain flight for a quarter of an hour with fuel left for at least another ten minutes.”

He continued to field questions from Lucas, carefully avoiding any indication he did not take the test flight alone. Finally his old friend stopped to regard him with an amused expression.

“All right, Kyle, what are you not telling me?”

Shrugging, he shifted positions to pick up the brass voice tube. As he pretended to study the piece, his mind conjured up and discarded several possible answers.

“Come on, buddy.” Lucas leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “What are you keeping back?”

Scientifically, the information was significant. Personally, he would catch all sorts of grief once his best friend knew he had taken a woman on his test flight. A beautiful woman who carried a revolver, quoted aerodynamic theory, and danced across a ballroom like—

“Who is she?”

Kyle snapped to attention and banished his errant thoughts. “She?” He cleared his throat. “All right, she was an unexpected copilot on tonight’s flight. And before you start making jokes, we were not given much of a choice. We were locked out on the roof of the Cotton Exchange and the only exit was by air.”

“Go on.”

“That is all there was to it. I just helped a lady out of a situation that was not of our making.”

“You expect me to believe you and a young lady on the roof of the Cotton Exchange is a situation not of your own making?”

Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “I expect you to take me at my word, yes.”

“One more question.” Lucas’s expression turned serious. “Is she pretty?”

Kyle picked up the nearest pillow off of the sofa and threw it at him.

Lucas dodged and then laughed. “I will take that as a yes. And now to the other reason I decided to crash your little New Year’s Eve party.” He paused only a second. “Tucker.”

Among the Pinkerton Agency’s list of missing fugitives, Will Tucker’s name stood out because of his personal connection to Lucas McMinn. Not only had Tucker scammed Lucas’s sister Mary in a false bid to wed, but he had also done the same to Flora Brimm, now Flora McMinn.

Unlike Mary, all Flora lost was a pair of earrings. Mary McMinn had a watch and her life stolen from her, though technically she died in an accident. If Will Tucker had not failed to arrive at the church, Mary
would never have run directly into the path of that New Orleans streetcar.

When the criminal was finally caught and sent away for an extended stay at Angola Prison, both Kyle and Lucas had celebrated. In a cruel twist of irony, Tucker escaped his prison transport vehicle on the same day Lucas married Flora.

Now, more than a year later, Tucker still had not been caught. But he would be.

Lucas reached into his pocket and retrieved a small black box, which he opened to reveal a pair of jeweled earrings.

“Are those—”

“The earrings Tucker stole from my wife? Yes, they are.”

Kyle recalled the last time he had seen a pair that matched these. Flora had worn her grandmother’s identical set to try and catch her thief. And she had almost succeeded. It had taken Lucas to snatch Flora from certain death after falling off a New Orleans balcony and then to snatch Tucker from what had been a certain escape.

A wave of relief passed over Kyle. “So he has been caught.”

“No, but a Miss Abigail Danders of Mobile, Alabama, took exception to his absence and came forward to file a missing persons report on her fiancé. She had a photograph to go along with her report. Definitely Tucker or someone who could be his twin.”

“Another victim of the man who somehow manages to collect fiancés but not wedding rings? And this time from Mobile?”

“It appears so.”

“Did Miss Danders also report jewelry missing?”

Lucas snapped the box shut and returned it to his pocket, his expression grim. “Pearls. A triple-strand bracelet and matching earrings.”

Pearls. Had his flying companion not worn exactly that sort of set tonight? But as soon as the suspicion rose, Kyle cast it away. How many other Memphis belles had worn pearls to their New Year’s Eve celebrations? Around this town, young ladies were practically handed their pearls before they left the cradle.

“What are you thinking?” Lucas asked.

“That we need to catch this guy. Other than the missing persons report, have there been any other sightings?”

“None.” Lucas let out a long breath. “Tucker’s something, I will give him that. Somehow he manages to convince these women he is the answer to all their troubles. He’s good. Really good.”

“He is, but we are better. It’s just a matter of time before he is caught
again. Henry told me that as of March fifth I’ll be back on the Tucker case full time.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Lucas rose and ran his hand through his hair. “If anyone can catch him, Kyle, you can.” Exhaustion curled around his eyes and tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I should have realized he would not go to prison easily. But I was thinking of Flora, and Tucker had already been tried and convicted. Still, I should have...”

“Where is Flora tonight?” Kyle asked, mindful that his friend sorely needed another change of topic.

“She’s traveling to Brimmfield,” he said as his grin lifted. “It appears our daughter will have a brother or sister in late summer.”

Kyle closed the distance between them to offer a hearty handshake and a congratulatory slap on the back. “All is as it should be,” he commended. “Please offer Flora my best wishes for continued good health.”

“Why not tell her yourself? You have not seen the half of what I have been working on, and she will be home in a few days. Cannot the Confederate gold treasure hunt wait a week or two?”

“I admit I am curious. Of course, it would help if you were actually harboring Confederate gold. Then I would be able to explain why I headed to Natchez when the next lead is in New Orleans.”

Lucas laughed. “Given the fact my wife’s grandmother told General Grant himself to keep on marching down the road, I would not doubt it.”

Kyle smiled. Indeed he had met the formidable Millicent Brimm and had no doubt the oft-told story about the Union general was true. However, a second visit to Brimmfield would have to wait.

Lucas’s departure from the agency had been as much a result of the gunshot wound that had nearly killed him as a desire not to spend time away from his bride. However, he had used his retirement well, and now the two men had an impressive array of inventions patented between them.

Kyle envied his friend’s life. He had days to spend perfecting inventions and creating plans for others. Nights to spend with a wife who loved him and a tiny daughter who was Flora’s image in
temperament as well as in beauty. But until Tucker was caught, there was nothing for it. Kyle
would stay on with the Pinkertons. What had begun as a matter of honor had become a matter of justice.

“Duty calls then,” Lucas said as his expression sobered. “Flora and I appreciate what you are doing for us.” He paused and swallowed before continuing, “And for my sister.”

“It’s nothing you would not do for me under the same circumstances.”

Lucas suppressed a yawn and then gestured toward the door. “I’m exhausted and I leave at dawn.”

“Until we meet again then, my friend.”

They said their goodbyes and parted ways. Shutting the door, Kyle walked over to retrieve his copy of the newly signed patent. Though his eyes read through the familiar words, his mind returned to the dark-haired stranger who had been brave enough to float through the night sky with him.

Finally he set the papers aside and reached for his coat. Though he had intended to wait until morning to retrieve his gear, now was as good a time as any. At least it would take his mind off the woman he could not seem to forget.

Six