Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) (54 page)

“And a busy one.” He shrugged. “Congratulations on putting two of the members of the Valletta gang away.”

“The old lady doesn’t know much,” Jefferson said. “My guess is she’s innocent of all but believing in the wrong person. Julia’s mother will be back home and reheating her stew by morning.”

“It wasn’t the Oakman woman to whom I referred.” He shrugged. “You’ve brought in Gabriel Trahan, although he prefers Gabriel Valletta now. Not his legal name that I am aware of, but he prefers it all the same. Then there is his lovely wife, Julia. She ought to be on her way to the Cabildo about now.”

“The Cabildo? You’re referring to the New Orleans jail of the same name, I assume?” At John’s nod, he continued. “And just how do you figure that?”

“You sent a telegram to the chief of the New Orleans police around midday today, letting them know that a jewel thief would be returning to Callum Plantation by way of the
Montmartre.
It docked in New Orleans at five this afternoon.”

“A jewel thief.” He let out a long breath. “You do have a sense of humor.”

“Yes, I do.” His expression sobered. “But lately I have also been burdened by a ridiculous sense of right and wrong. It’s extremely bothersome.” John paused. “Or long past time.”

Jefferson elected not to reply.

“In any case, you can check for yourself, but Miss Oakman, or rather Mrs. Trahan…or is it Mrs. Valletta?” He shook his head. “Anyway, the woman who acted her way into a position as Sadie Callum’s maid would have been taken into custody the moment she stepped off the ship.”

“At my word?”

“You are a detective at Scotland Yard working in conjunction with a Pinkerton agent on a case of mutual concern. Why wouldn’t they take your word for it?”

“No, John, I am not. Thanks to you I lost my job.”

He shook his head. “Actually, thanks to me, you got your job back.” The fool paused to grin, and it took everything Jefferson had not to vault over the desk and knock the smile off his face. “You’re welcome.”

A wave of weariness passed over Jefferson as hard as the surf that had pounded him back in Key West. “I assume there’s a story to go with this.”

“A good one.” He shrugged. “It starts with a Dickens tale and ends with a dare.”

“Dickens and a dare?” He rested his hands in his lap to hide the fists that still wanted to punch his brother. “Go on.”

“The last time I spoke to Granny, after she stopped throwing things at me, she insisted I read to her.”

Jefferson nodded. “I got a Stevenson book, so I’m assuming you must have read the Dickens novel to her.”

“I did, all the way through from beginning to end in just over a week’s time.” He shifted positions.
“A Tale of Two Cities.
Do you know it?”

“ ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom,’ ” he quoted.

“Yes, that’s the one. There’s a reference in it. Let me see if I can recall…‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ ”

“John 15:13.”

“I thought on that sentiment for a great while, Jeff. Even debated its meaning with Granny on more than one occasion.”

An image rose of John and their formidable grandmother locked in debate. Jefferson smiled.

“Then there was another. This quote I do remember: ‘Do you particularly like the man?’ he muttered, at his own image; ‘why should you particularly like a man who resembles you? There is nothing in you to like; you know that…Change places with him, and would you have been looked at by those blue eyes as he was…?’ ”

“Quite a recollection,” Jefferson managed through the lump growing in his throat. Though his brother stated the words, they might just as well apply to him too.

“Like you, I recall everything I read.” He looked away. “Total recollection. It is both a gift and a curse.”

Jefferson had never found the odd talent to be anything other than a gift, though he declined to argue the point. “And what came of those debates?”

John returned his attention to Jefferson. “After lively discussion, we came to an agreement.”

“And that was?”

“Like the characters in the book, our lives and how they end come down to our own choices. To what we believe and in whom we believe.”

Jefferson almost believed that John was affected by the tale he was telling. “Granny must have hit you on the head.”

“No,” he said softly. “In the heart.”

“What? I don’t believe you.”

Jefferson’s smile faded when he saw John swipe at a tear. An actual tear. John Tucker did not cry. Never.

“You can believe me or not, but it’s true. She said plenty, but when she was done, she dared me to change. Dared me to change my spots and make a difference. To fix what I’d done wrong.”

The next time I see that fool brother of yours, I am going to dare that leopard to change his spots.
His grandmother’s words. But then she had also told him she intended to pray that John would.

Silence fell as Jefferson waited for John to speak again. Finally, he said, “And?”

“And so I did.” His fingers drummed on the arm of the chair, a nervous gesture characteristic of John Tucker.

“How?”

“Well, there was no small measure of prayer involved. And then I bought a ticket to London. I walked into your office at Scotland Yard and asked to speak to the man in charge. I told him everything. Of course, they thought I was you and you were explaining the devious deeds of your devious twin brother.”

“You did? And why would he listen to you?”

“It helped that Mother came along with me to verify my story.” He paused as if recalling the event. “Thanks to her glowing praise of her long-lost elder son, you’ll probably go back to a raise and a promotion. She made you sound like the saint you are.”

“I am no saint,” he managed. “You really did this?”

“Send Mother a telegram and ask.”

“I will. And I’ll be sending one to the Yard as well.”

“Be sure to tell them when you’re returning to report for duty. They were keen to know.”

Jefferson shook his head. “You really did this, didn’t you?”

“I did.” John sighed. “I also taught Julia Oakman how to steal jewelry.” A smile began. “She was an apt pupil.”

“All right,” Jefferson said on an exhale of breath. “Explain that.”

“She’s a lovely girl, that Julia. I had occasion to meet her when your Mr. Valletta sought me out.” He held up his arm and showed a scar several inches long. “He mistook me for you. It wasn’t a pleasant visit. Of course, he was most apologetic when he realized the mistake.”

“So Valletta tried to kill you?”

“I think he was trying to warn me, or rather you, off his trail. Scare me into deciding to go back to England, as it were. However, when he discovered I had a history of incarceration and several skills he might exploit, he was much kinder during our second visit.”

“And that is when you taught Julia to steal jewelry?”

He nodded. “She contacted me when she learned she would be accompanying the men to follow you. I suggested she take a few things along and then see how many of them she might get away with stealing. It was to be an experiment to see how well she did.”

“Some experiment.”

“From what I understand, she left the
Lizzie
with Sadie’s sapphires in her carpetbag. And, if I recall correctly, an emerald set as well as Sadie’s grandmother’s pearls. Those are the things you reported as stolen to the New Orleans authorities.”

“Who arrested her this evening.”

“Exactly.”

Jefferson would know for certain in the morning, but his gut told him John wasn’t lying. And his gut was never wrong.

“So you’ve apologized to Granny, got my job back for me, and seen to the arrest of one of the suspects in the Valletta case. Am I missing anything?”

“Actually, you are.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

“The Durer?” John shrugged. “Have you figured out yet that I sent it? I had hoped you would recognize it as a clue. And if Julia saw it, maybe she would get scared and confess her part. I assume, however, she did not see it?”

“No, she did not. However, what you’ve said makes sense.”

“Of course it does. There’s something else. I’ve written a few letters. I wonder if you would mail them for me.” He set a stack of envelopes on the table in front of him. “Letters of apology.”

“I see. Anything else?”

“Yes. I’m going back to Angola. I need to turn myself in.” He rose and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Would you come with me to speak to the officer outside? I doubt he will believe there are two of us unless he sees us both.”

Jefferson stood but found he could not move beyond the edge of the desk. So John came to him, clasping his hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, brother. Let’s go.”

Reaching around to gather his twin in the first embrace he ever could recall, Jefferson found he was fighting tears of his own. Together they walked out of the library toward the front door and the officer stationed there.

John stopped and turned to face Jefferson. “One more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m sorry, Jeff. So very sorry.”

And then he turned to open the door and walk out into the night. When the officer saw John, he rose. Looking past him to Jefferson, he froze.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, seemingly unsure as to which of the brothers he should address.

“We’re righting a wrong,” John said. “I belong at Angola Prison in Louisiana. If you’ll let them know where I am, I’m sure they will come and fetch me.”

It was exactly what Jefferson had hoped for, and yet the knowledge that his brother was returning to his cell did not make him happy. The old leopard belonged there. This new one with different spots did not.

It was a conundrum and he hated it.

“He’s telling the truth, officer,” Jefferson finally said. “William John Tucker is his name. He’s my brother.”

The policeman checked his watch. “You want I should take him now, sir? My replacement should be along any minute.”

Even as he knew what was right, Jefferson felt torn. One word from him, and the officer would look the other way.

“Yes. Go ahead and take him.”

Unable to watch his brother leave, Jefferson turned around to face the house.

Before the man could open the gate, a scream split the night.

Sadie.

Jefferson raced inside and took the stairs two at a time until he found the room where she was supposed to be asleep. The boy who had been standing guard had been knocked senseless. He lay still with his eyes closed, a pool of blood spilling onto the carpet.

“See to him,” he called to the officer who was a step behind. “Sadie!” he shouted. “Sadie, are you in there?”

Silence.

The door was locked, so he kicked it open. The lamps blazed to life overhead and revealed that the room was empty. Jefferson went to the open window and looked out.

“The maid. She’s injured,” John said.

Jefferson glanced back over his shoulder. “See if you can help her. I’m going after Sadie.”

He stepped out onto the ledge and looked both directions. To the left was a wall that prevented any escape. To the right a narrow path led to what appeared to be some sort of balcony.

Following the path, he noticed a spatter of blood in the moonlight. His heart slammed against his chest when he saw Sadie’s crumpled form.

Jefferson rushed to her side, knelt, and felt for a pulse. Yes, there it was. She was alive. A shot rang out, and Jefferson crouched down further to gather the woman he loved to his chest and try to shield her.

He eased to his feet with her in his arms and kept to the shadows. A moment later he moved toward the bank of windows nearby. Sadie groaned, her eyes still shut.

“Stay with me, sweetheart,” he whispered against her ear. “You’re going to be fine.”

She wasn’t, though. Not with the amount of blood now staining his shirt. He reached out to grasp the window and found it locked tight.

Another bullet shattered the wooden shutter just beyond where he stood, and Jefferson knew he had to get off that balcony. He knelt down again and settled Sadie safely away from the window. Then he pulled out his revolver and used it to break the glass.

Reaching inside, he slid open the latch and lifted the sash. A pane broke inches from his head, sending a shower of glass over both of them. He maneuvered Sadie back into his arms and then eased her inside. He climbed in with her and waited just long enough for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room.

He saw a bed and moved toward it. Settling her there, he situated her as comfortably as he could manage and then turned back toward the window.

“Jefferson.”

Her voice was soft, barely there. He dropped to his knees beside the bed. “Sadie? You’re going to be fine. Remember what I told you in the mangroves?”

“You said nothing is certain,” she whispered.