Armand shook his head. He grabbed the cloth from Cécile and put it back over the painting. “I didn’t plan to show it to anyone.”
“Why not?” Cécile asked. “It’s beautiful.”
Armand fidgeted with his brushes, looking at the ground. Cécile saw a look in her brother’s face that she’d never seen before.
“You wouldn’t understand,” he said. Then he patted her shoulder. “Now tell me, what happened at the market? Did you find the necklace?”
Cécile quickly filled him in. “I’ll ask Grand-père to take me to the Floating Palace tomorrow,” she concluded.
“When you get there,” Armand suggested, “look for John or Pierre. They’ll know how to find the performer.” He wished her luck and shooed her off to bed.
In the middle of the night, Cécile woke up. She had been dreaming that she was explaining to Tante Tay about the necklace, when suddenly her aunt put her hands to her face and began to sob as if her heart would break. As Cécile awoke, she realized that her own face was wet with tears.
She sat up in bed, her throat tight. The dream had seemed so real. She would go back to the Floating Palace tomorrow, but what if the circus performer didn’t have the necklace? Where else could she look?
Cécile thought about all the other people who might have it. She no longer suspected the orange-bun seller, and she would go to the Metoyers’ house on Wednesday. What about the old woman who had said such strange things to her? Cécile’s arms felt as if tiny fireflies had lit upon them. She wondered if the woman was crazy. Would that make her more or less likely to be a thief? Cécile didn’t know. It didn’t matter, since she had no idea how to find the old woman anyway.
Her mind went back to the two children. Twice, she’d had the feeling they were coming to talk to her. She had to keep looking for them. Where else could she search?
Monsieur John had mentioned one more detail—that the police thought the children might be orphans. Cécile considered that. Ever since the yellow fever epidemic last year, she had volunteered often at Children of Mercy Orphanage. It was the only orphanage in the city for children of color. If the two children lived there, Cécile would have noticed them. She was sure of that.
Of course, everyone knew that there were many orphans who refused to live in orphanages. They slept in the alleys of the poorest neighborhoods, and the police always chased them because they stole from the shops and marchands. Some of them were pickpockets. If the two children lived like that, it would explain why they were chased off the wharf on Saturday night. But how could she find two orphans living on the worst streets of the city?
Or maybe they didn’t live on the streets, but, as Monsieur John suspected, in the swamps. If they did live in the swamps, she knew she might never find them.
Cécile felt her frustration growing. Suddenly another feeling washed over her as well. Here she lay in her soft bed. Even the orphans at Children of Mercy had cots to sleep in and pillows to lay their heads on, she thought. Where did children sleep who lived in dark alleys? Or, even worse, in the swamps?
For some reason, the old woman she’d met on the wharf floated back into her mind. What had she said? Something so strange, about hunters and lions…Cécile fell asleep trying to remember the old woman’s exact words.
9
HUNTERS AND LIONS
Right after breakfast, Cécile found Grand-père alone in the parlor, reading the Picayune. He read newspapers every day. He always said he loved two things: knowing about the world and understanding what was in it.
The date on the newspaper’s banner reminded Cécile that Tante Tay’s return was only three days away. “Grand-père, are you busy today?” she asked.
Grand-père snapped his newspaper shut. “Yes, ma chérie. Why?”
Cécile’s heart dropped. “I wanted to ask you to take me someplace. I suppose it can wait.” It couldn’t wait, really, but what else could she say?
“What I’m busy doing, ma chérie, is whatever you want me to do.” Grand-père patted her shoulder.
“Will you take me to the Floating Palace to talk to a man Armand and I met there?”
“Of course! I am always interested in the circus.” Grand-père waved a hand at her. “What are you standing there for? Go and get ready.”
A few minutes later, they were out in the bright morning sunshine. As they strolled along, Cécile told Grand-père about her scary but exciting elephant ride. She figured she had better tell him, since Monsieur John would probably mention it. Just as she had hoped, Grand-père loved the story.
“What an adventure, Cécé!” he said. “You are a brave young lady.”
Cécile grinned, pleased at his reaction. Then she thought of the two children who had calmed the elephant.
“Grand-père,” she asked, “have you ever heard of maroons?”
“Yes, I have.” His eyes narrowed and his tone grew serious. “Who mentioned them to you?”
“The man at the circus. Do you know much about them?”
“I don’t think anyone knows much about maroons,” Grand-père replied. “I am surprised anyone in New Orleans was talking to you about them. That subject isn’t spoken of, especially among free people of color.”
“What do you mean?” Cécile asked, remembering Monsieur John telling her not to repeat the word. She thought of how the Old Goat Man had suddenly stopped acting friendly when she asked about the children.
“Let me tell you a story,” Grand-père said. “Some years ago, there was a maroon named Bras-Coupé.”
“That’s a strange name,” Cécile said.
“Well, his real name was Squire, but people called him Bras-Coupé after he lost an arm.”
“Because it means ‘Arm Cut Off,’” Cécile said.
“Yes. Bras-Coupé was a slave who escaped into the swamps. He became a leader of the maroons around here. People said he knew all kinds of magic—that when white men shot at him, the bullets would flatten out, and that when anyone pursued him, fog would swirl up around him and he’d just slip away, laughing. Soldiers who chased him said he’d mastered the art of camouflage.”
“I know what that means,” Cécile said, grateful for Monsieur Lejeune’s tutoring. “It’s the art of hiding in plain sight.”
“Very good, Cécile. Slave owners hated Bras-Coupé. They thought he would encourage slaves to join him, enough to rise up and revolt against slavery. The state offered a reward for his death. After he was killed, soldiers left his body in the square here, in the sweltering heat of summer. For three days, they forced slaves, thousands of them, to walk past his body as a warning that they could not escape slavery.” Grand-père paused. “While he lived in the swamps, Bras-Coupé was one of the most hated men in Louisiana.”
“Was he a bad man?” Cécile asked, not sure what to think about the story.
“It depends whom you ask, chérie. Many people, even free people of color, say that he and his followers were thieves, murderers, even conjurers. But the slaves consider Bras-Coupé a hero. They sing songs about him to this very day. To them, he was a fighter for freedom.”
“What do you think, Grand-père?”
“I believe that slavery is the evil, Cécé, not fighting against it. But many disagree with me, even many free people of color.” Grand-père put a hand on her shoulder. “Best you don’t mention maroons anymore. Too many around here don’t want people to even think about being free. I hope one day for you, granddaughter, things will change.”
Cécile didn’t understand. Weren’t she and her family free already?
A moment later, she could almost hear the two slave catchers threatening Armand. Maybe she did understand.
A steamboat whistle pierced the air. Cécile looked up. She had been listening so intently, she hadn’t realized that they’d already reached the levee. Up ahead, she could see the Floating Palace, its flags snapping smartly in the breeze.
Cécile found Monsieur John in one of the warehouses near the Floating Palace, working
with the elephant.
She quickly realized that no one could have enjoyed a visit to the circus more than Grand-père. He and Monsieur John hit it off at once. Monsieur John would tell a circus story, and then Grand-père would tell a story from his sailing days.
Cécile thought maybe she could find the blonde circus performer without Monsieur John’s help. She excused herself and left the warehouse. She surveyed the wharf in front of the huge floating showboat. She saw crews of men piling barrels onto wagons, others stacking bales of hay, and still others standing in small groups, talking.
Then she noticed two policemen looking inside and around barrels only feet from where she stood. Cécile stopped in her tracks. What were they doing?
“I think they’re still here somewhere,” one policeman yelled to the other. “Keep looking!”
Cécile heard a rustling sound behind her. She turned and found herself staring at the backs of two dark-haired children, huddled behind a stack of burlap sacks piled in a corner. She recognized their tattered cloaks and the indigo-striped baskets they held by their sides.
Cécile knew that if the policemen got any closer, they would see the children. Backed into the corner, they had nowhere to run. What should she do? This might be her only chance to find out if the children had the necklace. But if she stopped to talk to them, the police would surely catch them. She remembered them standing in front of the elephant, saving her.
She glanced one last time at the children. Cécile made a decision.
She began walking toward the two policemen, thinking about her next move. How could she stop them from catching the children? She spotted a large metal bolt lying on the ground. She waited for the moment when the policemen looked into another set of barrels before throwing the bolt with all her power over the heads of both policemen into a corner of the warehouse wall behind them. She held her breath as the policemen quickly turned toward the sound they had heard and took off running.
Cécile waited, not daring to take a breath until both policemen had gone out of sight.
Cécile returned to the corner where the children had been hiding, but they were no longer there. She fought back tears, knowing that she might have lost her only chance to talk to them. But she couldn’t have just stood by and let them be caught, not even if it meant that she would never get Tante Tay’s necklace back. The words of the old woman floated into her mind: Hunters always want to kill lions…Lions only want to eat.
10
MISS MILLIE
Cécile turned from the abandoned hiding place and tried to calm down. Maybe it didn’t matter that she had lost her chance to talk to the children. After all, she was here because the orange-bun man had seen the blonde circus performer pick something up from the wharf. It might very well have been Tante Tay’s necklace.
Cécile straightened her shoulders. She must look for the circus performer, just as she’d planned.
But Cécile didn’t see any circus performers as she surveyed the Floating Palace. She went closer. The gangplank was down, but no sounds were coming from inside the boat.
Cécile looked back over the wharf. The doors of the nearby warehouse buildings were flung open, and people were bustling in and out. She realized that she’d been looking at the circus people all along. They just weren’t wearing their costumes now.
Excitedly, she hurried back toward the warehouses, sure she’d recognize the woman with the blonde ringlets even if she wasn’t in costume. Peeking into one doorway, Cécile saw men tugging on long pulleys; they must be working on the high-wire act. Through another doorway, she glimpsed a few women dressed in strange, ballooning pants, but they all had jet-black hair.
Cécile looked down the long row of warehouses and sighed. It would take too long to search them all. She’d better ask Monsieur John, even if she had to interrupt.
Monsieur John was happy to help. “I know everyone in the circus,” he said.
Relieved, Cécile quickly described the woman’s blonde ringlets and her gold and purple costume.
“Did she carry a fancy drawstring bag?” Monsieur John asked.
Cécile nodded hopefully. “Yes, it had a lot of jewels on it.”
“That’s Millie Sawell, all right. She’s part of the dog act.” Cécile remembered the little dogs doing flips and jumping through hoops. “Miss Millie carries that bag everywhere, even when she’s no call to need it.”
“What do you mean? It’s her purse, isn’t it?”
“Nope. It’s full of treats for the dogs. They get rewards when they do their tricks right.” Monsieur John leaned out the warehouse door and pointed. “Fifth building down. You’ll find Miss Millie there, training the dogs.”
“I’ll take you, chérie,” Grand-père said. He shook Monsieur John’s hand. “It was my pleasure.”
“Hope to see you again, mate,” Monsieur John said, giving Grand-père a salute.
Cécile wondered how she would ask Miss Millie about the necklace without Grand-père hearing, but it wasn’t a problem at all. Once he was inside the warehouse, the dogs raced over to Grand-père as if he were holding out a bone for them. In seconds, he was down on the floor, rubbing the dogs and talking to them as if they were old friends.
Two men came over to Grand-père, and Miss Millie followed. She wasn’t wearing her shiny costume, but her blonde ringlets looked just as Cécile remembered. She held the jeweled bag in her hand.
As Grand-père and the men began talking, Cécile introduced herself to Miss Millie.
“What a lovely name,” Miss Millie said. “You look familiar.”
“I came to the circus Saturday night. On the wharf afterward, I stumbled and knocked a woman down. You asked me if I was all right.”
“Oh my, yes. I knew I’d seen you before. You’re the little one who was showered with buns. I was relieved you weren’t hurt in the crowd. You could easily have been trampled. Crowds can be frightening. I admit, I like to get in the midst of the crowd, though. During the show, everyone is so far away.” Miss Millie fiddled with her drawstring bag. “It’s rare that I get to see people from the audience up close. I’ve been in the circus all my life.”
Cécile smiled, realizing that to Miss Millie, people who weren’t in the circus seemed just as strange and exotic as circus performers seemed to Cécile.
“I lost my necklace when I fell,” Cécile said. “Did you by chance see it?” The minute the words were out, she felt sure that Miss Millie would look at her as blankly as the orange-bun seller had.
“Was it a cameo necklace?” Miss Millie asked.
Cécile’s eyes widened, and her heart skipped a beat. “Yes. Yes, it was. Do you know what happened to it? The necklace is very important to me.”
“My dear, I did see it on the ground. In fact, I almost stepped on it, but someone picked it up. I’m so sorry, my dear little friend, I don’t have your necklace.”
Finding it hard to speak, yet still hoping, Cécile asked, “Did you see who picked it up?”
“Sorry, my dear, there was so much going on. And it was dark. I saw two hands reaching for the necklace. I do remember that. One hand had a ring on every finger. The other?” She shrugged. “I was so fascinated by all the rings, I didn’t really notice. And then I had the bright idea to pick up the buns. I knew my doggies would love those for treats, and they did.”
So, the orange-bun seller had been right, Cécile thought; Miss Millie had been stuffing buns into her purse.
Miss Millie patted Cécile’s shoulder. “Don’t be so sad, my dear. I’m sure you will find it.”
Cécile thanked her and returned to Grand-père, her mind racing as she waited for him to finish his story.
The hand with a ring on every finger—it must have been the strange old woman’s. Cécile could almost hear her saying, “You are searching for something very valuable.” Of course—how could the woman have known that unless she’d taken the necklace? Why hadn’t Cécile realized this before now? Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought abo
ut how close she might have been to the necklace on Saturday night when the old woman grabbed her hands. Then, like a dark cloud overshadowing the sun, Cécile realized that even if by some miracle she located the old woman, that didn’t mean the woman would give the necklace back. Worse, Cécile had no idea if the old woman actually had picked up the necklace. Miss Millie had said somone else reached for it, too. So the two children might have it—and Cécile had just let them get away. The only thing Cécile knew for sure was that she was no closer to finding the necklace than she’d been yesterday.
Grand-père suggested they take a carriage home. As they rode along the crowded street, Cécile felt tears slowly slinking down her face, and a salty taste rimmed her lips. She turned her head and peered out the window. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her tears away.
Cécile could feel Grand-père watching her, but he didn’t say a word.
Cécile wished she could tell him everything. But she didn’t want to burden anyone else with her secret. Poor Hannah was already keeping her secret. Maman had often said that keeping a secret was a heavy load to bear. Cécile understood that now. She vowed that losing the necklace would be the last secret she kept.
As the carriage pulled up in front of the Reys’ home, Cécile reminded herself that it was still possible Agnès Metoyer had the necklace. Cécile couldn’t remember if Agnès wore a lot of rings or not. Maybe, just maybe, she did.
Tomorrow Cécile would find out once and for all if Agnès was as mean as Cécile thought she was.
11
AGNÈS’S SURPRISE
The next morning, Cécile stood in front of her mirror in her party dress, watching as Maman tied a matching bow in her hair.
“Maman,” Cécile said, “my hair doesn’t look right.”
Maman adjusted the bow.
The Cameo Necklace (American Girl Mysteries (Quality)) Page 5