by Sharon Ihle
Jewel nodded vigorously.
"Do you promise to listen to me? I can put the gag back on just as fast as I take it off, you know," he added, pointing to her bound wrists.
Once more she rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, but again she nodded.
"Very well." Brent pulled her close and reached around behind her head. As soon as he loosened the knot, she spit out the wad of silk and began to lick her dry lips.
Brent resumed his speech. "Now then, as I was saying, this partnership requires complete honesty."
"You're not a detective, and I'll decide when I need a partner."
Slowly untying the cravat, Brent softly warned, "You're not listening."
She bit her lip and said, "Go on, then. I said I'd listen, but I don't recall promising to agree with you."
"That's better." Draping the silk cravat across her shoulders, he pulled her close. "Now then, since we both know now that Poindexter is actually Harry Benton—''
Jewel gasped and raised her head. "What?"
"That's the first rule," he declared. "No more lies. I know he's Benton, and you know he's Benton."
Realizing there was no point in arguing with him, Jewel let out her breath in a low moan. "Keep your voice down. We are in his room, you know."
"All right," he whispered, feeling decidedly clandestine. "As I was saying, since we both know who he is, why don't you just arrest him and get it over with?''
Jewel grimaced and leaned back. "You've been drinking."
"And you thought Brent Connors had ruined you as a detective," he said with a crooked grin.
"He has," she shot back. "This little incident alone could have cost me my job. I lay the blame for my lack of caution directly at your feet. Harry never would have caught me if I hadn't been in such a big hurry to trap him and get the hell off this ship."
"Ohhh," he groaned, his expression injured. "Now, you don't mean that. Say you don't mean that."
Jewel looked into his mischievous eyes, noting they were slightly out of focus, and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "No," she conceded in a gentle whisper, "I don't suppose I do, but you have had a dreadful effect on my concentration."
"So sorry to be such a distraction," he said with a lazy smile. "But since I am, and since you got caught, why don't you just arrest him?"
"I can't do that unless I actually catch him in the act of swindling someone or find stolen goods in his possession. As far as I can tell, this room is clean."
"Then let's give him someone to cheat."
"I'm going to do better than that, now that I have no choice. I'm going to find a mark for him, and then I'm going to help him pull the job." Loath to tell him exactly how she intended to do that, Jewel tried one more time to persuade him to back out. "Please promise me you'll stay out of it and let me do my job this time?"
"No way, Pinky. We're partners, remember?"
"Pinky?"
"Your secret code name." He chuckled at her chagrin. "So how are we going to pull this off? Do you have a plan, or should I think of one?"
"I have a plan all right, but it does not include you."
"Let's hear it. I'll decide if I think it will work or not."
Her voice rising higher than good sense dictated, Jewel said, "You can start by untying me."
"If you don't agree to this partnership and keep me informed of your progress with Harry," he parried, "I'll march right downstairs and demand that he return my mother's jewelry."
"Oh, Brent, you wouldn't."
"I don't want to. Do you have a better idea?"
She blew out a heavy sigh. "All right. Partners. All the way."
His dimples deepening, he grinned at her and said, "So? What's the plan?"
"I'm going to talk him into teaching me his trade. Then I'll convince him that he should make me his partner."
He frowned, still trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain. "Why would he do that? He's pretty successful on his own, isn't he?"
"Yes, but I think he'll take me on."
Brent shook his head. "It'll never work. He thinks you're a two-bit thief and wants you removed from this ship. He'll never take you on."
"Yes, he will," she insisted, deciding to trust him with the plan, if not the truth. "I intend to convince him that I'm his daughter."
"Oh, good grief."
"It will work. I know it will. I've got a stack of information that would reach my waist on that man. I know what I'm talking about, and I know it won't be any trouble for me to convince him that he's my father. You're simply going to have to trust me on some of this."
Again he drew in his breath, but this time Brent couldn't think of a single objection. "All right, then, but if it doesn't work—"
"If it doesn't work, I'll be more than happy to hear your ideas."
"It's a deal."
"Good. Will you untie me now so we can shake on it?''
Brent grinned down at her, his mouth crooked, his eyes playful. "In a minute. First we have a few more rules to discuss. Personal rules."
"Why don't we discuss the rules later?"
"Nope, we're going to settle everything now."
"All right," she agreed, slumping her shoulders, steeling her heart.
"First," Brent began, "I think it's important that we keep our new partnership strictly on a business level. There'll be no more of that,'' he said wagging a finger in her face. "No more looking at my mouth as if you owned it, and no more staring into my eyes. You make me nervous when you do that."
Jewel recognized the effects of too much bourbon, saw the emotions he sought to hide through drollery. "Oh, Brent," she said with a soft sigh, "I'm so sorry about what happened in your room. If I could, I'd take back."
"Shush," he said. "We'll just have to think of this as a silly day of... of needs. It never really happened. Didn't mean a thing."
"Brent—"
"There'll be no more interrupting, either. No more looking at me, and no more interrupting me." He stared down at her mouth, caught the gentle concern in her eyes, and grew reckless. "And no more of this." He crushed his mouth to hers, desperate for a final taste of her, unable to stay away.
When some measure of reason returned, Brent released her and took a couple of steps back. "Definitely no more of that," he said thickly, his expression dazed.
"Brent," she said softly, more than ready to claim her share of the responsibility for his mood. "Untie me now. Please do it before Harry comes back."
"Right," he said. "We don't want to upset ole Harry now, do we?"
As he fumbled with the silk scarf binding her wrists, Jewel cautioned, "Try to use some other name when referring to Harry. You might slip up and call him by his real name otherwise. That would ruin everything."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, saluting her after he finished untying the knot.
When her hands were free, Jewel rubbed her wrists and glanced up at Brent. "About some of the things I said earlier."
"Nope," he said holding his hand up. "No more of that nonsense, either." And then, because he couldn't stand her pity and couldn't trust himself to stay in the room with her any longer, he decided to let her think he was tipsier than he was. Brent staggered backwards, then said, "I believe I'd best get some air. Why don't you go on about your business with what's-his-name? I'll check in with you later and see how your daughter act went over. All right with you, Pinky?"
"Are you all right?" she asked as she joined him at the door. "You're looking a little"—she grinned in spite of her promises—"wobbly.''
Catching the innuendo, fighting the urge to take her in his arms, Brent led her outside the stateroom, then locked the door. "I'm just fine. Go on. Do your job, and please see if you can't do it right this time."
"Thanks, partner. I'll give it my best."
Then she turned and hurried on down to the saloon deck. Blocking all thoughts of Brent Connors from her mind, Jewel concentrated on gaining Harry's trust as she walked into the smoke-filled room.
Un
derstanding that her newest plan was as dangerous as it was daring, Jewel took a deep breath and stepped up to the bar. "Mr. Poindexter, sir?" she said in a tiny voice from behind him.
Harry spun around, wide-eyed, and then frowned. "You? Why are you running around free? Where is Mr. Connors?''
"He's still up above, sir. He said I could come down here and apologize."
"Apologize? My dear girl, that will hardly make restitution for your crimes. I thought I made that clear to Mr. Connors."
Jewel shrugged, blinking her eyes, feigning an innocent demeanor. "Yes, I know all that, but after I told him about myself, he thought it would be best for me to talk with you. Then if you still want to prosecute me, you'll be within your rights."
Harry sniffed and raised his chin. "I don't know what you could possibly tell me about yourself that I would find of any interest."
"I think there might be one little thing. Do you suppose we could step outside and talk privately?"
"Hah. Do you think can get me alone and try to rob me before you jump ship? Think again, you little scamp, but I do admire your audacity."
Jewel shrugged. "Then I guess we'll just have to discuss it here in front of the other passengers."
Growing impatient, Harry snapped, "If you really must speak to me, be my guest, but I can't imagine why you wish to waste my time."
Taking another long, deep breath, she began. "Do you happen to remember a young woman you met around twenty-seven years ago by the name of Martha Flannery?"
Harry wrinkled his nose and brushed at her as if she were an annoying mosquito. "That is a very long time ago, my dear, but in any case, the name does not sound familiar to me."
Pushing her feelings and her outrage to a distant corner of her mind, Jewel hardened her heart and went for the kill. "Perhaps the name of my grandfather's bank, the Chicago National, and that of the Lillie safe you robbed are a bit more familiar."
His features alive with apprehension and alarm, he cocked one eyebrow and said, "I am no longer amused by you or your impudence."
"Forgive me for dredging up any, ah, memories that you prefer not to recall, but I'm trying to make a point here."
"That being?" he inquired breezily, his expression even haughtier and more aloof.
"Martha Flannery was my mother."
Harry stared at her for a long moment. "How terribly unfortunate for her."
Jewel gritted her teeth, but her eyes shone with triumph as she issued a hoarse laugh and said, "In many ways, I suppose having me was unfortunate for her, but I could turn out to be a real asset to you... Daddy."
Chapter 13
Harry grabbed his throat, choking on his breath, the drink, his heart. "Why, that's absolutely ludicrous."
Jewel shrugged. Feeling in control, despite the fact that she was part of an actual performance of the drama she'd scripted so often in her imagination, she continued. "Knowing that you are my father has not been the highlight of my life, either, but it happens to be the truth."
Harry's mind instantly produced an image of his days—and nights—with Martha Flannery. Unable to hide a sudden rosy blush, he stole a sideways glance at the girl, and then violently shook his head. "No, I tell you. I simply could not be your father. There must be some mistake." He raised his chin, but was unable to bring his nose to its usually lofty position.
Jewel leaned in close and said, "Like it or not, I am the product of a liaison between my mother and one Harry Benton. Either you will accept that fact or I shall hop up on this bar and see if anyone else does."
"No, don't." Harry cast an anxious glance around the room, then slid off the stool. "I don't know where you heard that name or why you've decided to attach it to me, but you are quite out of line. Perhaps this conversation would benefit from some fresh air after all. I suggest we reconvene at the railing. Shall we?"
Now it was Jewel's turn to balk. "I may not be much good at sneaking into rooms, but that doesn't make me stupid. If I go out to that railing now after all I've just told you, you'll try to throw me overboard."
His gaze still bobbing from passenger to passenger, grateful to see none of those distinguished heads had been turned yet, Harry whispered, "Give me a little credit, my dear. Do I look like the violent type? Does this body look capable of such a deed?"
"Looks can be deceiving, Father dear."
Harry swallowed hard, studying her features as she spoke. He stared at the cool green of her eyes, the familiar freckled cheeks, the upturned nose, and gasped. "I'd say that in your case, my dear, looks are very revealing."
Certain now that he was ninety percent convinced her claim was authentic, Jewel added the final validation. "Excuse my poor grammar, sir, but you ain't seen nothin' yet." She tore off her lace gloves and tossed them on the bar.
"How many fingers can you count?" she said in a little girl voice as she held her hands in front of his face.
"Yipes." Harry gasped as her stunted pinkies wriggled like two little grubworms. "It's the Benton binkies."
Jewel's hands fell to her sides, and her eyebrows shot up. "The what? My, oh, my, did I have the right name for you after all, dear Father?"
But Harry was in shock, unable to say more at the moment. He stared down at her hands, his eyes glassy, and shook his head. "Bloody hell."
Now it was Jewel who glanced around the room, Jewel who noticed that others were beginning to take an interest in the little reunion. She slid one hand between Harry's ribs and elbow and steered him toward the doorway. "I think now would be a good safe time to get some air. You're looking a little sickly."
Dazed, Harry allowed her to lead him away, but before they could pass through the doorway, Reba intercepted them.
"Harry? Are you all right?" she asked, shooting suspicious glances Jewel's way.
"Oh, I just need some air," he managed.
Elbowing Jewel to one side, Reba glanced into Harry's glassy eyes and said, "The Dawn's pulling away from the dock now, so I can't serve drinks for a few minutes. I wouldn't mind taking a little stroll around the promenade with you."
Himself again, or as close to himself as he would ever be in the future, Harry regained some control over his situation. Gently dislodging Reba's fingers, he said, "Thank you kindly for the offer, but I need a few moments of privacy with''—he glanced at Jewel, no longer certain how to refer to her, and finally shrugged—"this young lady. Do be a dear and understand. Perhaps we can take that stroll later?''
Jealousy flashed in Reba's eyes. She looked from Jewel to Harry, and then jerked her chin up a notch. "Perhaps," she said brusquely. "And perhaps not." Then, her hips rolling like a maverick rum barrel amidships, she squared her shoulders and sashayed back toward the bar.
"Now, that's one hell of a woman," Harry commented, blissfully able to forget Jewel and the revelation she represented for a small moment.
Uninterested in his love life, in anything about him unless it had to do with his capture, Jewel snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Shall we?" she said, inclining her head toward the railing.
"Yes, yes, of course," he answered slowly, back to reality.
As they walked, the Delta Dawn began to pull away from the dock, lurching as she struggled sideways against the current. Her legs nearly swept from beneath her, Jewel stumbled and almost fell, but she rejected Harry's attempt to help her.
Once the pair made it to the railing, they clung to it and turned to face each other, measuring, studying, waiting to see who would be first to comment.
Unable to gaze into the girl's eyes any longer, Harry looked away and stared out at the churning waters. His voice heavy with resignation and tinged with guilt, he finally said, "The day you read my tea leaves... you were trying to tell me then, weren't you?"
"Yes," she said quietly, working to disregard her feelings about this moment, trying only to play a role.
"I must have sounded like a barbaric dolt to you. I was terribly cruel, and for that I apologize."
Jewel shrugged it—him—of
f. "You didn't know your daughter was sitting across from you then. I imagine I've grown some since you last thought about me."
"Last I thought of you, my dear?" Harry said. "Today is the first I've ever heard of you, much less imagined that you might exist."
Trying to keep the cold hatred from her eyes, the curl off her upper lip, Jewel glanced across the water to the heavily wooded shore as the steamship made its way down the traffic lane toward Mississippi. How far would she have to go with this loving daughter masquerade? she wondered, agitated. How much could she manage? Again struggling to keep her voice calm and nonjudgmental, she said, "I heard that you knew all about me, that you couldn't wait to get your hands on my grandfather's money and leave town the minute you found out I was on the way."
"Well, then, you heard wrong," Harry insisted. "I don't know what your mother told you, but until a few moments ago I was blissfully unaware that I was anyone's father. Sorry if that sounds callous to you, my dear, but it is the truth. I never wanted or intended to have children. I was always careful, I thought, to preclude such a possibility."
"Oh, please," Jewel groaned. "Spare me the sordid details and the lies."
"Sorry, my dear, I don't mean to be indelicate, but I want you to understand that I never meant to leave your mother in such a state."
"But the fact is that you did, and you left her to face the wrath and disillusionment of her very unforgiving father."
"Again, I must object. Martha never even hinted about her predicament to me. I can't imagine why she told you that she did."
Even though Jewel knew him to be a liar and a thief, something in Harry's eyes gave her pause and kept her next remarks on the tip of her tongue. Was it possible he hadn't known about her all these years? Was he now granting her the rare favor of telling her the truth? Jewel tried to think back, to recall a segment from the childhood she'd buried in the recesses of her mind, but the memory wouldn't come forward. Who had told her about Harry? Who had drawn him as a bastard, her mother or her grandfather? Or both?