Rebecca Hagan Lee - [Borrowed Brides 02] (7 page)

Tessa swiped at a lock of red hair that had fallen from her tidy bun. “Well, you should’ve. You have food for that cat,” she said, pointing to the ugly tomcat missing part of one ear. “Is he any better than we are?” She knew she was being unreasonable, but she hated feeling so awkward.

“He lives here.” David set the mug of coffee on the desktop, turned, and started for the door.

“Not if you don’t get him off my table.” Tessa stood with her hands on her hips, the spoon clutched in her left fist. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” David caught Horace Greeley before he stepped on one of the plates, lifted him from the table, then set him on the floor.

“When will you be back?” She knew she didn’t have a right to demand answers, but she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t want him to leave, but she wasn’t going to ask him to stay. “I can set another place,” she offered, “but I’ll need to know how long to hold supper.”

“You and Coalie go on with your meal,” David told her.

“What about you?”

David smiled his most devastating smile as he opened the front door. “Me, Miss Roarke? Don’t worry about me. I’m just needin’ a drink o’ somethin’ stronger than coffee,” he said in a thick brogue that was a perfect imitation of hers. He tipped an imaginary hat in her direction and stepped back out into the cold night air.

Tessa watched him go, then flung the wooden spoon to the floor in frustration as she suddenly remembered the way Myra Brennan had traced the contours of David Alexander’s lips with the tip of her painted fingernail. Tessa wouldn’t have been at all surprised to learn he intended to spend the night in the woman’s bed.

Bending down, Tessa picked up the spoon and walked back to the storeroom to call Coalie to supper. Returning to the sink, she rinsed off the spoon, then ladled beans onto the two plates she’d set on the table. Well, Myra was in for a big surprise. She wasn’t going to have everything her way. She wasn’t going to get away with keeping Tessa’s belongings. Tessa would go to the Satin Slipper to get what was hers. David Alexander didn’t want trouble, but that was just what the man would get if he dared to stand in her way.

Tessa sat down at the table and began to mindlessly shove forkfuls of beans into her mouth. She could plan her strategy while she ate.

* * *

“Lee, I’ve got to take another look at Tessa’s room.” David Alexander sat at the bar of the Satin Slipper Saloon, nursing a shot of whiskey.

“There’s no way Myra’s gonna let you in there to snoop around,” Liam Kincaid replied.

“Have you been in there since the murder?” David asked.

Lee shook his head. “Myra kept me busy all day counting beer kegs and whiskey bottles. Too busy to look around.”

David grinned. “Then you are working on a case.”

Lee glanced around, studying the other patrons at the bar. Most of the regulars were too drunk to remember overhearing his conversation with the lawyer. “What gave you that idea?” His gray eyes were wide with feigned innocence.

“I think it was when you pretended not to know me,” David replied dryly. “We’ve only been friends for ten years. And colleagues as well.”

“
Former
colleagues,” Lee reminded him. “You quit working for our Scottish friend after the war, remember?”

“But you’re still with him, aren’t you, Lee?” David pinned his buddy with a knowing look. “Or should I say
Liam
?”

“It’s Liam,” Lee acknowledged, giving his friend a meaningful glance.

“For now.” They spoke simultaneously.

It had been a joke among the three of them—David, Lee, and David’s cousin Reese Jordan—when they worked for the famous detective, Allan Pinkerton. Any name they used for work was always temporary. David had met Lee several times over the years since the war, and each time he’d been using a different name.

“Liam Kincaid is my
real
name,” Lee said. “At least, part of it.”

“You’re really Irish?” David was clearly surprised. In the years he’d known him, David always assumed Lee’s Irish brogue was part of his disguise.

“Only on me father’s side.” The thick brogue was in evidence when Lee spoke. He leaned over the bar closer to David and busied himself by wiping spilled beer off the polished mahogany surface.

“How long have you been here?”

“Just under five weeks.” Lee finished wiping the spill and then poured another beer for one of the customers.

David sipped his bourbon. “Why haven’t I seen you?”

“This is my third bar in five weeks,” Lee told him. “And the other two weren’t the kind of place a prominent Peaceable attorney would frequent.”

“I don’t frequent this one either. I’m only here to investigate.”

“That makes two of us.” Lee nodded as one of the saloon girls called out an order, then began filling three heavy mugs with foamy beer.

“I need to get into that room.” David reemphasized his reason for patronizing the Satin Slipper.

“There might be a way,” Lee began, “if you don’t mind mingling with the sporting girls. One in particular.”

David groaned at the prospect. His head ached from the thick cigar smoke, the clash of strong perfume and unwashed bodies, and the yeasty scent of beer and bourbon. David rubbed his fingers across his eyelids while his thumb massaged the throbbing ache in his temple. Lee slapped another shot of whiskey in front of him.

“Which one?” David was wary. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to
mingle
, as Lee phrased it, with one of the numerous overpainted, underwashed, overused women in the Satin Slipper unless she was passably clean and reasonably attractive.

“There she is.” The bartender nodded toward one of the saloon girls.

David looked up.

“There. The brunette with the yellow ostrich feathers in her hair. She got Tessa’s room.”

The girl was attractive despite the abundance of paint and powder, and from where David sat she appeared fairly clean. “Is she one of the…”

“Uh-huh, and it’ll cost you. Two dollars.” Lee leaned close to David’s ear as he wiped at a nonexistent spot on the bar with a white dish towel. “And I’d advise you make your transaction before Myra comes downstairs, or all hell’s liable to break loose, especially since Myra made her feelings for you pretty clear to everyone this afternoon. I’d hate to see her snatch the poor girl bald-headed.”

“Don’t remind me of this afternoon.” David shuddered.

“Just tryin’ to help out an old friend.” Lee raised one dark blond eyebrow at David. “You know the saying, ‘Hell hath no fury…’”

“All right,” David snapped.

Lee grinned as he motioned to the saloon girl wearing the bright yellow ostrich feathers in her dark curls.

The brunette made her way to the bar with a movement that should have dislocated her hips. Several men whooped and hollered at the display of her undulating buttocks. One or two patted her posterior affectionately. She laughed and teased the customers as she squeezed through the crowd around the card tables.

Lee grinned at her. “Her name’s Charlotte. Rhymes with ‘harlot,’ and believe me, the name fits. The things she can do with her mouth…” Lee broke off. “Or so I’ve heard. Here.” He slid two shot glasses of whiskey across the bar to David just as Charlotte approached.

David got to his feet, picked up one of the glasses, and handed it to the woman. “May I buy you a drink?”

“A drink and anything else you like.” She took David’s arm, pressing it against her ample breasts as she murmured in his ear.

“I like what I see.” David’s voice was a deep, husky rumble as his gaze roamed over her, moving from the top of her brown curls to the tips of her yellow satin slippers, then back up again, lingering on the length of her legs, encased in black fishnet stockings, and the curve of her breasts spilling out above the neckline of the canary satin gown. A silver and black necklace, which looked suspiciously like a rosary, hung around her neck. A silver cross dipped down into the valley between her breasts. David studied the necklace for a moment before settling his gaze on her red-painted lips. The cross was Celtic.

“I don’t usually go with a gentleman when I’m working the floor.” Charlotte leaned even closer to murmur in David’s ear. He wondered idly how the seams of her dress held together under the unusual stress placed upon them.

Behind her back, Lee rolled his eyes in disbelief at Charlotte’s blatant lie.

“Is that so?” David pretended an interest he didn’t feel.

“That’s right, sugar,” Charlotte confirmed. “But for two dollars, I’ll give you whatever your little ole heart desires.” She took David by the hand and began to lead him toward the stairs.

Lee slid David’s untouched glass of whiskey down the length of the bar. “Don’t forget this, Mr. Alexander,” Lee called out, his voice full of respectful subservience. “You’ll need it.”

David swallowed the liquor in one gulp, then slid the glass back down the bar to Lee. “Thanks.” David grimaced as the fiery liquid burned its way to his stomach.

Lee bit back a smile. “Don’t mention it.” He turned the shot glass upside down over the cork of an unopened bottle of Scots whisky and shoved the bottle toward David. “Enjoy your evening.” He winked meaningfully.

David Alexander nodded in understanding as he grabbed the bottle and headed toward the stairs with Charlotte leading the way.

Lee’s gaze followed David and Charlotte the Harlot up the staircase. It promised to be one interesting night for his old friend. Lee shook his head as he picked up the dish towel and began to polish the bar once again.

* * *

Tessa held her breath, trying to control her racing pulse. She wished she’d given a little more thought to her hastily improvised plan. The smells of the Satin Slipper brought back a rush of memories. It had been hard enough to sneak up the back stairs without being seen, but then… She peeked around the corner. From her vantage point beneath the stairs she had seen David Alexander at the bar in deep conversation with Liam Kincaid. Not just a casual conversation but a friendly one. They obviously knew each other—well.

Though she felt a twinge of disappointment, there was a feeling of cynicism as well. She’d been right to suspect David Alexander. He was in league with Liam, a man who’d been her sworn enemy since she’d first seen him. Tessa pressed closer against the wall. For the moment, undetected escape was impossible. She’d just have to wait them out, watch, and see what she could learn.

Placing her hand in her dress pocket, Tessa felt the slick surface of the envelope she’d just slipped out of the lining of the trunk in her old room. She breathed a quick sigh of relief. Her pictures were safe and back in her possession.

But her rosary was missing.

Standing hidden in the shadow of the stairwell, Tessa watched as David Alexander, whisky bottle in hand, escorted one of the girls toward the stairs. Tessa bit back a gasp of outrage when she realized the painted hussy was wearing her silver and onyx rosary as a necklace, the silver filigree cross nestled in the crevice between her generous breasts. Tessa had to keep herself from reaching out and snatching her rosary from around the girl’s neck. She focused her attention on David instead. What was the man up to?

She waited until she heard their footsteps on the treads above her head, then bolted from her hiding place and followed them up the stairs.

Lee Kincaid looked up from the bar where he was busy arranging liquor bottles. He caught sight of a flurry of green calico skirts rounding the corner at the top of the stairs reflected in the mirror above the bar. He smiled to himself. The girl had spunk. No doubt about it. Too bad she hated the sight of him. He thought about intervening, then shrugged his shoulders, dismissing the idea. It was better to forget he’d seen her. David would have to handle this on his own.

Lee finished arranging the liquor bottles, humming a cheerful Irish ditty beneath his breath as he worked.

Tessa eased the door of the room open a crack. Praying it wouldn’t squeak, she glanced inside. It was just as she thought. He was there in her old room, sitting bold as brass on the bed with his back to the door. Hadn’t he learned better than that? Anyone could sneak up from behind. Or was he too busy eyeing the woman’s rear end as she bent to pour him a drink to worry about danger?

He was every bit as bad as she expected.

She slipped inside the room, dropped down to her hands and knees, and crawled to the curtained alcove at the foot of the bed. Hidden behind the curtains, Tessa sat on a pile of feminine garments. She studied the assortment of clothing. The frayed lace edge of a nightgown peeked out from beneath a scarlet satin dress. Tessa recognized the nightgown as one of her own. Lifting the hem of her calico dress, she tucked the undergarment into the waistband of her drawers. She worked quickly, barely daring to breathe for fear of discovery and nearly panicking when her foot caught the edge of a hatbox and scraped it along the wooden floor. Tessa leaned forward, shifting her weight on the pile of clothes as she peered through the break in the curtains.

“What’s that noise?” Charlotte looked up from her empty glass into David Alexander’s dark brown eyes.

Tessa froze.

The rustling sound coming from behind the curtain stopped.

“Must be a mouse.” David casually leaned forward on the bed, reaching for the whisky bottle on the floor. Looking under the corner of the bed, he caught sight of a bit of green calico. Damn her. He should have known Tessa Roarke couldn’t be trusted to stay where he left her. David picked up the liquor bottle, righted himself, and filled Charlotte’s glass. “Over there.” He gestured toward the dresser. He splashed a drop of whisky into his glass, then set the bottle back on the floor.

Charlotte giggled as she insinuated herself onto his lap. “I could have sworn the sound came from behind the curtain.”

Tessa clasped a hand over her mouth, willing her heart to stop pounding.

“There it is again.” Charlotte moved even closer to David. “I heard it squeak.”