Kathleen Y'Barbo (29 page)

He spent the remainder of the afternoon securing the devices into trunks newly purchased for the purpose. Train travel generally allowed for gentler handling of baggage, but he would not complain about Henry’s choice of transportation by water. Thus, by the time the sun
had set, he
had enough padding around his inventions to feel fairly secure they would survive the trip. Still, he supervised them closely as porters took the trunks from his hotel room to stow in the hotel luggage room in preparation for tomorrow afternoon’s departure.

That task accomplished, Kyle picked up his copy of Robert Louis Stevenson’s
The Black Arrow
with the intention of reading until sleep overtook him. What overtook him instead was an urgent need, despite his intentions to the contrary, to see Millie Cope one last time.

For the next time he saw her, he very well might be required to inform her of her status as a person of interest in a Pinkerton investigation. Tonight, however, she was merely a person holding his interest.

Grinning at the thought, Kyle tucked the items he needed into his satchel, slipped on his hat, and headed toward Adams Street with the intention of waiting for Millie to make an appearance in her third-floor hideaway.

Fortunately, he found the window unlocked, making his entrance into Millie’s world an easy one. Lighting a lamp was out of the question, so he made do with his personal lantern adjusted to the lowest setting as he scanned the room for something to interest him while he waited.

The sound of muffled voices drew him to the fireplace, where he leaned against the chilled bricks to better hear the conversation taking place somewhere below.

“I don’t trust that man,” said a woman whose voice indicated advanced age. “There’s just something about him that don’t add up.”

“Sir William seems nice enough,” a younger girl said. “My guess is he and the mistress will patch things up and get married after all.”

“Nice don’t make no difference. Our Mr. Cope, he can be nice when he wants to.”

Silence fell, though the clatter of what sounded like a pot lid on a tile floor rattled up. Kyle leaned his head inside to see if he could determine how the acoustics worked.

The women began chatting again, though their talk was of more mundane matters, such as seasoning for the soup and which of the neighbor’s maids might be having a baby in the spring.

“Oh, and did I tell you I caught Mr. Cope snooping around Miss Millie’s room again? Lord knows there is little left for him to take except what she wears around her neck.” This from the younger woman.

“Oh, he could take a whole lot more, and I hear he has.” The slam of what might have been an oven door drowned out the elder woman’s words. Kyle reached for the hearing device in his hat and adjusted it until her voice returned to his ears.

“All I know is that if she gets caught, the mister is going to be terrible angry. He’s been threatening to take anything like that away if he catches her.”

Again the conversation went back to domestic issues, giving Kyle the opportunity to test his theory that the pipes sent the conversation up, and probably down as well. So it stood to reason that if he were to shut off the flue, the conversation would also be shut off.

With a tug on the proper lever, the two voices instantly fell silent. Pressing it the other way brought the conversation back. He made a final adjustment to close the flue and then swiped at the ashes on his hands.

On one of the chairs he found a copy of the same book he had left back at the Peabody. Opening
The Black Arrow
to the place where he left off, Kyle returned to the adventures of Dick Shelton and his quest to rescue the fair Joanna until he heard a key turn in the lock. Quickly extinguishing the lantern, he set the book aside and leaned back against the chair cushions to await Millie’s arrival.

Millie knew the moment she stepped into the attic room that she was not alone. “You came,” she said, sounding pleased.

A lantern flashed and there he was, sitting in one of the chairs before empty fireplace, though he stood politely as she came closer. “You called,” was his simple response.

“I want to hire you.” She gestured toward his chair, inviting him to sit again, and then took the seat opposite him.

If he had an opinion on the topic, his expression did not give it away. “Maybe we should talk about that.”

She removed the chain from around her neck and held the charms in
her palm. “You were able to solve the puzzle of the cypher. I want you to make use of your workshop and whatever gadgets and inventions you might have to solve another puzzle. As I said in my message, I can offer payment in the form of a percentage of the funds recovered.”

He said nothing, so she continued. “You saw the blank paper for yourself when the cypher was opened. I need to know if there is something on that paper that will lead to...”

“The Lafitte treasure?”

“The Cope treasure. That is my name. Millie Cope.”

“I know.” He paused only a second. “Or Mildred Cope, according to the engagement article in the local newspaper.”

“Yes, though the wedding has been canceled.”

“Does your fiancé know?”

“He does, but those sorts of things never make the papers, do they?”

“I would beg to differ,” he said. “Sometimes the story of the breakup makes a bettter headline.”

“Well, it’s possible my story may yet be told. But first I have to convince my father a nobleman will not be joining the family.” She met Kyle’s eyes. “He’s having trouble accepting that fact.”

He let the statement pass without comment. Instead, he reached for the necklace, and she allowed him to have it.

“What is it you think I can do to help you find the treasure?” he asked as he twirled the Spanish coins and once again easily opened the cypher. The key tumbled into his palm, followed by the torn piece of foolscap.

“You can determine if that is a clue to something or merely a blank piece of paper.”

“Are you saying you would be willing to allow me to take this with me?”

“I would have to come along.”

He shook his head. “Impossible.”

“That point is nonnegotiable, Kyle. You cannot expect me to allow something so valuable out of my sight.”

“My point is also nonnegotiable. You cannot follow me to...where I am going.”

“I’m sure I could, though I am loathe to considering it
following.
More
like traveling to the same destination for an agreed-upon purpose.” She paused to consider her words. “I assure you our relationship would be business only.”

Kyle looked as if he might laugh. “Well, that is slightly disappointing, but not the reason you cannot accompany me.”

Slightly disappointing? She let the comment pass even as she tucked it neatly into her heart to be considered later. “You are leaving soon, are you not?”

He gave her a how-did-you-know look that told Millie she was on to something. “No comment.”

“Oh, I see. It’s to be like that.”

They were both quiet for a moment, and in the stillness Millie grew aware of the cold seeping up through the floorboards. Though disappointed in his refusal, she didn’t want to leave the dark, chilly room, didn’t want to leave him. It was silly, really, this feeling she had whenever she was close to Kyle. No, silly was not the correct word at all, for the powerful mix of feelings he stirred in her was nothing less than intriguing and very close to dangerous.

“Tell me about the woman you were with.” The words tumbled forth with such speed that she had no time to retrieve them.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him chuckle, though the sound was too soft to hear. “I wondered when we would get around to discussing her.” He paused as if to study Millie. “She is a colleague, nothing more.”

Millie did her own studying, and it only took a moment to decide he was telling the truth. Then came relief, crowding out the jealousy that had surprised her with its fierceness.

“You look relieved.”

He was teasing her. His smile gave that much away. But behind the smile, somewhere between his words and his eyes, was that the tiniest bit of concern that she might not believe him?

Which would only mean...

“Millie?”

He was looking at her in a completely different way now. Indeed, he appeared to be amused again. “Are you woolgathering?”

“Perhaps. Now,” she said as she turned the conversation toward a safer direction, “about the foolscap.”

“I can make a copy, but that will not allow a proper testing of the paper.”

“How can you copy a...” She shook her head. “Never mind. If you can fly, it should not surprise me that you could somehow copy pieces of paper.”

Kyle shifted his attention to the locket and opened it. “What of this? Could there be a connection between this fellow and the treasure you’re searching for?”

“I thought so, but I have come to a dead end in my search for who he might be. The jeweler found an inscription on the back of the miniature. Apparently he is Julian. The year is 1837.”

“That is written on the back of the image?”

She nodded as she moved to kneel beside him. With care, Millie removed the miniature and turned it over. The tiny words could barely be seen.

“Look at that,” Kyle said as he reached into his pocket to produce a pair of spectacles. “Let me see the locket.”

She watched as he studied both sides of the piece. “If this side opens, what is on the other?”

Millie frowned. “I don’t know. Let’s see, shall we?”

He handed the piece back to her. After two attempts she gave up. “Apparently just the one opens,” she said as she returned it to Kyle.

“Or it is jammed.” He held the open locket up and looked at it closely through the spectacles. “See here. It looks as if this side was meant to open like the other.”

He offered her the spectacles. Millie fitted them in place and then blinked to focus on the locket. Indeed it did appear as though both sides were identical.

“Maybe what was once there is lost.” She removed the spectacles, allowing her fingertips to brush his hand as she returned them to him. “What do you make of all this?”

Kyle’s smile was brief. “All of what?”

“The clues...the puzzle pieces. A cypher made from Spanish coins that
contains a key and a seemingly blank but very old piece of foolscap. Oh, and a letter I found in my mother’s Bible.”

She rose to retrieve the letter and then set it on the table between them. “See, it was hidden in the spine.”

Kyle handled the torn page carefully as he read the words. “Arn,” he said. “Interesting.”

Seventeen

K
yle did not need the instruments back in his workshop to know what name those letters were part of. Arnaque.

J.L. Arnaque.

He sat back to make sense of the evidence. Arnaque was the owner of record on the property Millie had claimed was hers. If Arnaque was Lafitte, then the connection between the society scientist and the Baratarian pirate was very close to being fact rather than supposition.

He gestured to the letter. “What relation are these people to you?”

Millie shook her head. “I don’t know. My mother was a very private woman who was orphaned as an infant and knew nothing of her own parents. Do you suppose...”