Kathleen Y'Barbo (43 page)

Twenty-Four

February 1, 1889

New Orleans

I
f yesterday’s visit to the house on Royal Street had upset Millie, she did not let on. At least not in front of Kyle.

Instead, she rode quietly back to Prytania Street and then went to her bedchamber, where she remained until this morning. And now she sat across the table from her host, sipping café au lait and dusting herself with sugar while attempting to enjoy a breakfast of beignets.

“Did you rest well?” he asked for lack of anything better to say.

“Very,” was her sparse answer. And then, “What do you suppose she meant when she said she could not help me?”

Kyle sighed as he thought of how he had wrestled with this question in her absence. “Honestly, Millie, that answer could hold a number of meanings.”

“That is what I thought.”

“How do you wish to proceed?” he asked as he stabbed at his eggs with a fork.

“I think the only thing to do is wait. She did not deny Mrs. Koch lived there, nor did she confirm it.”

“True.”

Silence fell between them. When the footman brought in a folded note written on the paper only used for telephone messages, Kyle set his fork aside.

He glanced at it and then nearly dropped it. “Millie,” he said slowly, “did you give anyone my telephone number?”

“Oh,” she said as she returned the sugary fried donut to her plate. “Yes, I did. I tried to tell you but you were not amenable to listening. You were having a tantrum.”

“I do not have tantrums.” He waved the paper at her. “However, I would very much appreciate it if you would not tell anyone else how to reach me without my permission.”

Completely ignoring his stern tone, Millie’s expression brightened. She leaned forward in a futile attempt to read the note he held. “Is it him?”

He placed the paper on the table and then folded it over. “To whom did you give this number?”

“Technically, my father.” Before he could comment, she held up her palm to silence him. “Hear me out, Kyle. I sent a telegram to my father asking him to contact my former fiancé. I may or may not have phrased my telegram in such a way that my father may or may not believe I wish to speak to the crook regarding how I might retrieve my locket.”

“You told your father you wish to reunite with Tucker?”

“Not exactly, although if he were to surmise that from my very carefully worded telegram, then that would be his choice, not mine.”

Kyle shook his head. What was it about amateurs that made them believe they could play at investigation and law enforcement?

However, much as he hated to admit it, this time Millie just might have scored quite the coup. “Apparently your Englishman has been unable to forget you and wishes you would return with him to Memphis to wed.” He thumped the page. “His words exactly.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Kyle let out a long breath. “You have made contact with an escaped convict, Millie.”

She tilted her head toward him. “And for that you are most welcome.”

He lifted a brow, unable to believe the audacity of her tone. “What do you mean?”

“
I
contacted him and now
you
can catch him.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said as he read the message again. “Tucker
wishes to meet with you here in New Orleans. How do you propose we manage that and still keep you safe?”

“First of all, I am in no danger from that man. He has never once threatened harm. My belief is he wants my father’s money and is willing to accept the role of trying to convince me to change my mind about marrying him.”

He thought a moment. “Possibly. Or he has figured out that the locket he holds has a connection to a treasure he believes you can help him find.”

“I suppose that could be an option, but does it matter? The goal is to send him back to prison and return my locket to me.”

“Agreed. And I know how I am going to do that.”

“I or we?” she asked.

“I am in charge of this matter, but I will concede I need you to play a part. If you are willing, that is.”

She gave him a look that told him no answer was necessary.

“Yes,” he said, smiling. “How would you like to go to a ball, Millie?”

“With you?” she asked as a grin formed.

“Technically, although Sir William Trueck will believe you are attending with him.”

“If you’re referring to the ball your mother is giving in my honor, that is tomorrow night. There is no way to get Sir William...” She shook her head. “To get Mr. Tucker to New Orleans in time.”

“He’s already here, Millie. The telephone number he gives here is a French Quarter exchange.”

“Oh.” She worried the edge of her napkin. “So...he is very close by.”

“Apparently.”

Millie pushed away from the table, her breakfast obviously forgotten. “We may have driven right by him in the carriage yesterday and not even known about it.”

“Possibly.” Kyle steepled his fingers and studied the now not-so-brave crime fighter. “I will not allow him to hurt you, but I need to be
sure you feel up to helping catch him. I know you have agreed, but you should be aware of what you are agreeing to.”

She thought only a moment. “You say he has done this to other women?” At his nod she continued. “How many?”

“I have definitive proof of four others.”

“I want to help you catch this man. What would you have me do?”

“You would return his telephone call and then invite him to the ball. Be specific that you want him to bring the locket. Tell him it will be his token of good faith, and without that, you will not know whether to trust him.” He watched her intently. “Can you do that?”

At her nod, Kyle tossed his napkin aside and pushed back from the table. “Then shall we get this over with? If you are ready, that is. If not, we can wait until later.”

“No. Now is better.”

They went to the library, where Kyle placed the call and then handed the telephone to Millie. When a male voice answered, she let out a long breath and then said, “Sir William? This is Mildred. I have received your message and wish to meet.”

The remainder of the conversation was brief and to the point, at least on Millie’s end. She listened intently as he said something Kyle could not quite hear.

“No, not this afternoon,” Millie said, her frightened eyes meeting his gaze. “Of course I trust you. There is a ball being given in my honor tomorrow at the French Opera House, and I would very much like you to be in attendance.”

Kyle gave her a nod of encouragement and she continued. “Will you do just one thing for me, please?” There was a pause and then Millie met Kyle’s gaze again as she said, “Yes. How did you know?”

Tucker said something, and Millie responded with, “Then we are at an impasse. Do not think for a moment I will accept your apology without a peace offering.”

She was angry now, impressively so. “Yes, a peace offering. Returning my mother’s necklace would be considered an act of good faith on your part, and that is nonnegotiable. If you do not bring it, I will consider our association permanently at an end.”

When she hung up the telephone, Kyle waited for her to inform him of the results.

“He knew I wanted the locket before I asked for it.” She shook her head. “He said it was worthless and he had a better gift for me.”

“Probably something he has stolen from his next victim. Or a previous one.” He studied her. “Do you think he will show?”

“I cannot claim to know him at all, Kyle. However, he sounded angry.”

Not what he wanted to hear. An easy arrest in a public place such as the French Opera House was the way to go. Finding the locket if Tucker did not bring it along might prove impossible.

But who was he kidding? Even if the locket were returned, the possibility that it continued some link to the Lafitte treasure was far fetched at best.

He would not tell Millie that, of course, for she had set her mind on the fact that the missing information was somehow contained in that locket. Not until it was absolutely necessary.

“We can still find this treasure without the locket.” She looked to him for verification.

“Eventually,” was his best answer.

“And the foolscap that was folded around the key? Are you certain there are no traces of a map or some kind of clue?”

“Not completely. When not squiring you about to dressmakers, I have been spending considerable time working on it.”

“I see.” Her smile was immediate and exquisite. “And what are your plans for the remainder of today? I would like very much to see your work and assist you with anything further.”

The idea sounded promising, but there were other items that must be handled before they could retire to the workshop. “First you and I have an errand to run.”

“Oh?”

“I recall that when I first met you, your gown had a peculiar feature sewn into it. It almost got me shot.”

“The pocket for my Remington,” she said with a wistful look. “But I have no need for such a thing anymore. After the damage I caused with that weapon, I set the gun aside.”

“Well, Miss Cope, you are about to pick it up once again because I am having the dressmaker add a pocket into tomorrow night’s ball gown.”

“I doubt he will be pleased at the late addition.”

“I am willing to pay any extra fees he might require, and that will soothe his complaints.”

As Millie fixed him with a skeptical look, he paused to think of the odious Frenchman with the temper that matched his attitude. And yet, if Kyle had to spend his life appeasing women who complained about the cut of a skirt or the lace on a sleeve, he would very likely have a nasty temper as well.

“I do not want another gun, Kyle.”

He sighed. “All right. You made one other threat on the roof of the Cotton Exchange that night. Do you own a knife, or was that just an empty warning?”

Her laughter answered for her.

“Are you at all acquainted with using a knife for protection?” When a shake of her head indicated she was not, he continued. “Then we will scrub our visit to the gun seller and spend some time practicing that art.” When she appeared about to argue, Kyle held up his hand to stave off her protests. “Either you go into this endeavor able to defend yourself if need be, or I will summon Agent Callum to come and assist.”

That did it. The change in her demeanor was subtle, and yet Kyle did not miss the narrowing of her eyes and the straightening of her spine.

“I look forward to our lessons, Kyle. I do not think any assistance will be necessary.”

As it turned out, the only occasion where assistance was necessary was when he explained to his mother that the belle of the ball would be attending with an escort who was not her son.

“I just cannot have it,” she sang, her operatic response grating on nerves already rubbed raw from dealing with the purveyor of fine silks and, as of today, secret pockets.

“It was not a question, Mother, nor do I come here as your son. This is Pinkerton business,” he said as he spied his father walking into the parlor. “Papa, tell her I am trying to save a woman and her stubbornness could cause her harm.”

“I will not allow you to harm your mother, son,” his hard-of-hearing father said. “Indeed she is stubborn, but that is no cause for—”

“That is not what he means, my dear.” She reached to touch Kyle’s sleeve. “You are serious. There could be danger to our Millie.”

“There is some measure of risk. More than she knows, which is why I elected to come here alone.”

His mother smiled. “I wondered if perhaps you were here to seek our approval of your young lady. A ball is a lovely place to propose, and you do have that exquisite ring that belonged to Grandmother Russell. What was that, darling, a Burmese ruby?”

“No, sweetheart,” Papa said as he moved to give Mother a peck on the cheek. “Grandmother Russell was named Rosalind. Ruby was her sister.”

Mother rolled her eyes and then returned her attention to Kyle. “So is there to be an announcement? Perhaps a declaration of some sort?”

“Let the boy be, Josephine,” Papa said. “He will announce when he sees fit. Now allow him some privacy and, for goodness’ sake, give him some cooperation.”

His mother’s astonished look was priceless. So all this time his father had only been pretending to be hard of hearing? Kyle stifled a laugh.

“Yes, all right then.” Mother reached for her fan and began fluttering it beneath her nose. “If you both will excuse me, I believe I am feeling a bit faint.”

Once she had scurried from the room, Papa began to chuckle. Kyle soon joined him.

“That Lucas McMinn is a good man,” Mr. Russell eventually said. “The last time he came to visit, he convinced me I ought to be wearing that hearing device you made for me. He said it was better to be informed, even if I kept that detail to myself. And I must say he was right.”

A close look at his father’s ear revealed that the tiny receiving device was almost hidden and yet obviously fully operational. “Well, how about that?”

“I still turn it off when she sings. I guess now I will have to explain how I managed to perform the miracle of hearing her. Or maybe I will just turn the thing off so I will not hear the question. Yes, perhaps that
is the way to go. The gal I married does not care whether my ears work. She loves me in spite of all that.”