They must have the necklace, Cécile thought. Perhaps they had picked it up last night and were now bringing it back. She felt happiness sweep over her. This was a miracle day.
And then four things happened all at once. The sky opened up and sheets of rain began to fall. Pierre let go of the rope to grab a tarp lying nearby. A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by an earsplitting clap of thunder.
The next few moments were a blur to Cécile as Bella reared up slightly and began to trot toward the showboat. People already racing for shelter screamed, scrambling out of Bella’s way. The elephant crashed on, knocking over anything in her path. Horses neighed as they bolted out of the giant animal’s way.
Cécile clutched at the harness. “Help!” she called out. “Help!”
“Hold on tight, Cécé,” Armand yelled. He and Pierre raced alongside the elephant.
And then Cécile spotted the two children running straight toward her and Bella. Cécile could see now that they were a boy and a girl, not much older than she was. She yelled to them, “Move! Get out of the way!” But they kept running toward her, their cloaks drenched, their long hair clinging to their rain-splattered faces. She called out to them again, this time in French. Still they ran, stopping only a few feet in front of Bella. There they stood, wide-legged, the only thing between the elephant and the plank leading to the circus showboat.
A scream tore from Cécile’s throat. In that second, all that mattered to her was the children’s safety. She shouted louder, demanding that they move.
They did not flinch. The boy stepped closer to Bella, talking to her, reaching his hands out to her. The elephant stood still. The boy rubbed Bella’s trunk, murmuring to her.
Cécile heard someone yelling behind her, but she was too scared to turn around. Then she felt someone’s hand on her leg and heard a loud command. Bella sank down on her knees. Armand and an older man of color whom Cécile hadn’t seen before lifted her off. Pierre led Bella away, using the tarp to shield his face from the rain. The man gently steadied Cécile, helping her to stand.
Cécile turned to thank the two children, but they had vanished.
Armand hugged Cécile. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice quivering.
Cécile nodded, sniffling, as the rain beat against her face.
The older man helped Cécile inside the warehouse. “Sit down,” he said, patting a crate. Cécile sat, but her legs refused to stop shaking.
“I’m so sorry, Cécé,” Armand said. “I thought it would be fun.”
The man patted Cécile’s hand. “How did you get on that elephant, anyway?” he asked.
“I let her ride, sir,” Pierre said as he stepped inside. “Sorry, sir.”
“You were only supposed to walk Bella around and bring her right back,” the man said sharply. “You could have gotten a lot of people hurt.”
Pierre bent his head and apologized again. He hurried off to get Cécile a drink of water.
“You’re both lucky that young boy was there to stop Bella,” the man said. “Pierre works with the elephants, but he’s too green to know that Bella doesn’t like thunder.”
Pierre came back only long enough to hand Cécile a tin cup. She sipped and shivered for a few minutes in silence.
Armand broke the silence. “I’m Armand Rey, and this is my sister, Cécile. Thank you for helping her.”
The man shook his hand. “I’m John,” he said.
“Monsieur,” Cécile asked, “the boy who stopped the elephant—does he work in the circus?”
Monsieur John shook his head. “No, but sometimes he comes over and talks to the tigers and to Bella. I have seen that boy call the tigers, and they come. Even the trainer can’t make them obey without a whip. The girl’s his sister. They never hang around long. The cops say they’re pickpockets and thieves. I don’t know about that, though.”
Cécile’s heart sank. “Do you know where they live?” she asked.
“Not really. I think they might be orphans. They usually have those cypress baskets to sell.” He shrugged. “I suspect they live in the swamps. That’s where the cypress grows.” He paused, glanced around, and lowered his voice. “I think they’re maroons, but don’t repeat that.”
Cécile frowned. She knew of the cypress swamps that started at the edge of town and went on for miles. She shuddered at the thought of dark forests swarming with alligators and mosquitoes. Sensible people stayed out of the swamps.
“I’m sorry, monsieur, but what are maroons?” Cécile asked.
“Maroons are mostly runaway slaves who live in the swamps,” Monsieur John explained. “I’ve heard they have a way with animals. What that boy did today with Bella was remarkable. Once an animal gets spooked like that, it’s hard even for a trainer like me to settle her down.”
Armand said, “I didn’t realize there were men of color who were elephant trainers.”
“Yep, I’ve trained elephants for many years.”
Ordinarily Cécile would have been full of questions for a man who trained elephants. But right now she wanted to know more about the two children. She needed to find them to see if they had the necklace. “I want to thank those children and ask them about something,” Cécile said. “Do you know how I could find them? Do they come here on certain days?”
“No, miss. They just sort of appear out of nowhere and then they’re gone. I think they might trade those baskets at the French Market, though. I’ve seen them there myself once or twice.”
“Cécé,” Armand said, “the rain has stopped. We should go home. Did you have any luck at the Lost and Found?”
“You lost something?” Monsieur John asked.
Before she could answer, Armand spoke up. “My sister lost her favorite blue gloves as she left the circus last night. That’s why we’re here.”
“Did you find them, miss?” Monsieur John asked.
“No, I didn’t,” Cécile replied, once again wishing the gloves really were what she’d lost.
“I’ll keep an eye out for your gloves, miss.”
“Thank you,” Cécile said, realizing that telling a fib really was a problem. Now, even if someone at the circus did have her necklace, Monsieur John couldn’t help her because he’d be looking for gloves. Cécile thought of something Grand-père often said: “A lie told once multiplies like fleas on a dog.”
5
CLOSE CALL
As they headed home, Cécile noticed that her brother was limping.
“It’s nothing. I just got a little bruise during all the commotion,” Armand said. He glanced at her and added, “We’d better keep that elephant ride between us.”
“I agree,” Cécile said. If Maman knew she’d been on a runaway elephant, she and Armand would most definitely be in trouble. “Can we keep something else between us?” she asked.
“What is it, Cécé?”
Cécile confessed that she had lost Tante Tay’s necklace.
Armand was just about to say something when a harsh voice rang out behind them. “Stop right there, boy!”
Cécile and Armand whirled around. Two rough-looking white men were striding toward them. The shorter one had a bushy beard, and the taller one bore a scar across his cheek. They looked angry, as if they’d been trapped in a hornet’s nest.
The shorter man unfolded a grimy sheet of paper and thrust it into Armand’s face. “It’s you, ain’t it, boy?” he growled.
The other man said, “What you showing him for? He can’t read it.”
“I beg your pardon, monsieur,” Armand said.
“Oh, he can read it, all right,” the short man sneered. “Says right here he can read and write. Don’t it, boy?”
Armand took the paper. Cécile felt her stomach tighten as she realized that Armand’s hand was trembling.
Who are these men? she wondered. She moved closer to Armand and read the paper:
ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD.
Runaway from Jefferson Parish, a negro named TOM. 6
feet high, slender face. A well-looking fellow, speaks well. Can read and write. Has a defective walk and a large scar on left ankle. As to his clothing, I cannot be certain. Likely he will endeavor to pass as a freeman. Whoever delivers said slave to me shall have the reward that is offered.
Cécile’s heart thumped loudly in her chest. These men were slave catchers—and they thought Armand was the man they were looking for! He had been limping because of the bruise on his leg. He was tall and handsome and spoke well. And he could read and write.
“Sir, if you’ll give me a moment,” Armand said, “I will show you my papers.” He reached into his coat pocket for the document that proved he was a free person.
The taller man grabbed Armand’s arm and twisted it behind his back. “Stop right there. You looking for a weapon, boy?”
Armand said, “I’m trying to get out my papers, nothing else—”
“Shut your mouth,” the shorter man said. “We know it’s you.”
Cécile’s stomach twisted. In the last year or so, Papa had become more and more insistent that they carry their papers whenever they went out, and now she understood why. She felt panic rising. What if Armand had left his papers at home? “My brother doesn’t have a scar on his ankle, sir!” she said.
The shorter man yanked up Armand’s left trouser leg and pulled back his stocking. A fresh purple bruise had risen on his ankle, but there was no scar. “She’s right,” he muttered.
The taller man still did not let Armand go.
“Sir,” Armand said. His voice shook, and he cleared his throat. “I am the son of Jean-Claude Rey. He is a well-known stonemason here in New Orleans. We are free people of color. If you will just let me, I will show you my papers.”
“I’ve heard of that stonemason,” the shorter man said. The other man let go of Armand’s arm.
Armand pulled a folded paper from his pocket. “Here you are, sir.”
The taller man read it and handed it back. He jabbed his finger in Armand’s face. “You’re lucky this time, boy.”
As the slave catchers left, Cécile pressed close to her brother. Armand was never afraid of anyone, but now he was shaking as much as she was. Cécile bent her head so that Armand couldn’t see the tears streaming down her face. Neither of them said a word the rest of the way home.
When Cécile and Armand arrived, tired and chilled, they were relieved to find the courtyard empty except for Hannah. She was walking toward the kitchen, but she paused when she saw them.
“Are you two all right?” she asked. She nodded toward Armand’s leg. “Are you hurt?”
Cécile looked at Armand. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said.
“I bumped my leg,” Armand added quickly.
“If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll get something for it,” Hannah offered. “I have a salve that will soothe the pain.”
Armand protested, but he sat down on a bench. Hannah hurried to her room above the kitchen and returned with a small jar that she handed to Armand. As her brother applied the salve to the angry bruise on his ankle, Cécile saw the tension in his face ease a little.
She thought about what had happened to him only minutes before and shuddered. Could the slave catchers really have taken him?
Hannah bent to a nearby shrub and broke off two flowering twigs, handing one to Cécile and one to Armand. “This might cheer you both. Smell it. It’s jasmine. There is no more beautiful smell.”
Armand put the jasmine to his nose and took a deep breath. He smiled. “Thank you,” he said.
Cécile smelled the jasmine, but the sweet scent wasn’t enough to soothe her heart. After today, she would never again feel quite so safe in New Orleans. And it didn’t help that Tante Tay’s necklace was still missing.
“Merci, Hannah,” Cécile said. “I’m going to my room for a while.”
Hannah came up with her and set out dry clothes. Then she said gently, “I wanted to show you something.” She went to Cécile’s dresser and opened a drawer. “I heard you telling your mother that you’d lost your blue gloves. I thought you might like to know that I found them on your bed after you left for the circus. I folded them and put them away for you.”
Cécile caught her breath. This morning in the courtyard, Hannah had known that Cécile was fibbing about the gloves—but she hadn’t given her away. Cécile said, “Please don’t—”
Hannah broke in. “It’s all right, Miss Cécile.” She paused and then added quietly, “Sometimes even when we don’t want to, we must keep secrets.” She slipped from the room.
Cécile stared after her, surprised and grateful.
6
AN UNEXPECTED INVITATION
Just before supper, Armand knocked on Cécile’s door. He had changed into dry clothes, too, and Cécile noticed that his limp was better.
Armand put an arm around her shoulder. “That was quite an afternoon we had, Cécé. I wanted to be sure you’re all right.”
Cécile gave him a nod.
“And we didn’t finish talking about Tante Tay’s necklace,” he added. “I’ll help you if I can. Do you have any other ideas where it could be?”
Cécile had been thinking about that very thing. She told Armand she suspected that the two cloaked children had stolen it. Many people seemed to think they were thieves. And yet, somehow, both last night and today Cécile had had the strongest feeling that the children were trying to talk with her. “It hardly matters which is true. I don’t know their names. I don’t know where they live. How can I possibly find them?” Cécile sighed. “And then again, maybe they don’t have the necklace at all.”
“Who else might have it?” Armand asked.
Cécile told him about the man selling orange buns, the strange old woman, and the circus performer in her purple and gold costume. “It might even have been Agnès or Fanny Metoyer!” she said.
Armand snorted. “Cécé, the Metoyers are one of the richest families in New Orleans. Why would Agnès or Fanny steal anything?”
“You should have seen the way Agnès admired Tante Tay’s necklace,” Cécile replied. “She couldn’t take her eyes off it. She even said it would look lovely on her.”
Armand looked doubtful. “Two vagabond street children seem much more likely culprits to me.” He paused. “Didn’t John say he’d seen them at the French Market?”
Cécile’s eyes widened. After the scare with the slave catchers, she’d forgotten about that. “Oui, he thought they might trade their baskets there.” She chewed her lip, thinking. She visited the market almost every week with Maman or Grand-père, but she had never noticed the children. She usually went later in the day, though. Perhaps the children came to trade in the early mornings, when the market was busiest.
“Tomorrow, I’ll get up early and go with Mathilde,” she said.
“I wish I could take you myself.” Armand worked with Papa at the stone yard every day, although he had studied art in Paris and one day wanted to become a professional painter. “I hope when I come home tomorrow, you’ll tell me you’ve gotten the necklace back, Cécé.”
Downstairs, someone was knocking at the front door. They heard the sound of Maman’s voice as she answered it.
A few moments later, Maman walked into Cécile’s room and handed her a beautiful cream-colored envelope. Cécile saw her name scripted perfectly on the front: Cécile A. Rey.
“Who is it from, Maman?” The only person she could think of who might send her a letter was Marie-Grace, but this was not her friend’s handwriting.
“Open it,” Maman said, smiling.
Cécile carefully removed the pink silk ribbon from the envelope and lifted the flap. Inside was an elegant invitation. She read it aloud:
We request the pleasure of your presence
at a formal tea
Wednesday at three o’clock.
Agnès & Fanny Metoyer
Agnès and Fanny! Cécile thought she would rather do a hundred algebra problems than spend her Wednesday afternoon at one of the M
etoyer sisters’ teas.
“How nice of them to invite you,” Maman said. “We must get you something special to wear.”
Cécile was about to say she didn’t want to go but quickly changed her mind. Despite Armand’s reaction, she still thought it possible that Agnès had taken the necklace—she’d hardly been able to stop looking at it at the circus. Suddenly, Cécile recalled Agnès waving good-bye after the commotion on the wharf. Had she been holding the necklace in her other hand? Cécile held out hope; at least if Agnès had the necklace, Cécile had a chance to get it back.
Hadn’t the old woman told Cécile to open her eyes? Well, Cécile’s eyes were wide open now. She saw that Agnès Metoyer could have Tante Tay’s necklace. If Cécile hadn’t found it by Wednesday, the tea would give her a chance to ask the Metoyers some questions. Perhaps she’d even have a chance to look for the necklace. Yes, thank you, Agnès and Fanny.
Of course, the truth was, the man selling orange buns could have the necklace, and so could the circus performer, the old woman, and certainly the two children. However, Cécile wouldn’t be surprised at all if Agnès Metoyer had it.
Satisfied, she said to Maman, “I’m pleased they invited me, too.” She would take every opportunity she could think of to find Tante Tay’s necklace. She had only five days left.
That night, Cécile lay awake while rain drummed on the roof. What if she didn’t find the necklace? How could she face her aunt? Cécile tossed and turned.
Finally, listening carefully to be sure that everyone had gone to bed, she slipped into Tante Tay’s room. She slid open the drawer where her aunt kept the necklace. The black velvet box was sitting where Tante Tay had left it. Cécile picked up the box, holding her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut and said a silent prayer: Please let the necklace be in its box. She opened the lid and looked down. The box was empty.
Tears sprang to her eyes. She had wished so hard that, for just a moment, she had thought the necklace might actually reappear. But she knew the truth—she was too old to believe in magic.
She climbed back into bed and tried to sleep. Tomorrow, she would get up early so that she could accompany Mathilde to the market. If she were lucky, she might find the two children there and come home with Tante Tay’s necklace.
The Cameo Necklace (American Girl Mysteries (Quality)) Page 3