Jonah studied her face. “I still don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth whether you believe me or not.”
Madame returned before Jonah had a chance to respond. As Madame took her seat at the head of the table, Madeline took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Much as she hated it, Jonah was right. She needed to tell Madame the truth regarding her identity.
If this was the end of her employment with Madame Smith, so be it. She would get her information on Lafitte and the story she hoped to discover another way. There was no blessing from the Lord on a project He hadn’t approved of. And He certainly did not approve of deception.
Not having to hide her identity from the sweet widow would be a relief. Explaining to Madame why she had chosen to hide it, not so much.
“My team has assembled and now the hunt can begin,” Madame said with a smile before Madeline could speak. “Miss Winston, you and Detective Cahill will be working together to find my treasure.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Smith,” Jonah said. “You hired me to find your granddaughter, not a treasure.”
“Treasure. Trésor. It is all the same,” Madame said with a wave of her hand.
“I don’t understand,” Madeline said.
“Treasure in English. Trésor in French,” she said. “My granddaughter Trésor is my lost treasure. That is what—and who—you search for. So, in essence, you are correct.”
“I thought for a minute we were going to have to dig for actual buried treasure,” Madeline said. “Not that I mind, of course.”
“Well of course you wouldn’t mind, Madeline,” Jonah said. “You always were interested in treasure hunting.”
“What does that mean?”
Jonah stared at her across the table, anger flashing in those silver eyes. “There would be quite a story in finding buried treasure here in Galveston, don’t you think?”
Madeline straightened her spine. “You are making no sense, Jonah.”
“Oh dear,” Madame said as she rose. “It appears my team is having its first disagreement. It was not unexpected given the circumstances, of course. Please do not speak but rather nod when I ask you a question, do you understand?”
For a small woman, Madame certainly could take command of a room. Madeline nodded and watched Jonah do the same. Madame looked at Jonah. “Do you wish to resign this assignment?”
Jonah slid Madeline a quick look and then shook his head to indicate he did not. Madame then turned her attention to Madeline. “Do you?” Madeline responded in the same way.
“All right, then. If you have something to say, then speak.”
“With respect, Mrs. Smith,” Jonah said before Madeline could speak. “I do offer my deepest apologies that I have abused your hospitality.”
“Nonsense,” Madame said. “I quite expected this sort of reaction when the two of you finally met. Is that all?”
Jonah seemed to be considering the question. “No, that is all for now.”
“Very well. You may not understand today why I have chosen you to work together, but I hope someday you will.”
“Madame, I do have a question. You said Detective Cahill and I are a team. Might I ask what your instructions are to the team?”
She smiled. “Of course, dear. You are to be as invaluable to Detective Cahill as you are to me.”
“So I am in charge of this investigation?” Jonah asked, his tone smug and his smile broad.
“No, Detective Cahill, you are responsible for it.” She turned to Madeline. “And you are responsible for following the detective’s instructions in regard to the investigation. Do you anticipate any problem doing that?”
“In regard to the investigation, I do not,” she said. “However, I need to be honest about something. And once I do, I will leave it to you to decide if you still trust me enough to continue with me in your employ.”
“Go ahead,” Madame said gently.
Madeline glanced quickly at Jonah before returning her attention to Madame Smith. “I have not been truthful with you. My name is not Maggie Winston. I am Madeline Latour, and I am a reporter for the New Orleans Picayune. I chose to apply for the job under the name of Maggie Winston because I did not want you to form your opinion of me and my ability to work for you based on anything you might have heard about me or my family.”
“Is that all?”
Madeline paused. “No. I was wrong. I have no excuse for my behavior. I did not think of the consequences.” She slid a covert glance at Jonah and then returned her attention to Madame. “I do, however, want to assure you that I am under no assignment from the paper but rather investigating on my own time.”
“I know, Madeline,” she said, her voice holding no sign of anger. “I have known from the beginning.”
“You did?”
“Yes, I did. The question of the pirates, it is intriguing to you, as it is to me. I understood.”
“I’m sorry to jump in here,” Jonah said. “If you knew she wasn’t telling the truth, why would you hire her?”
Madame seemed to consider the question for a moment. Then she offered Jonah a smile. “Because she is the right one for the job. What name she gives herself has never been important.”
“Madame,” Madeline said softly, “might I be excused now. I find I no longer have an appetite.”
“Running away will not repair what has been broken here,” Madame said.
Jonah looked up from his meal but said nothing. Madeline nodded and turned her attention to her plate, where she pushed food around until Madame finally rang for Gretchen.
“Has the family Bible been found yet?” she asked the maid.
“Not yet, but we are still looking,” she said.
Madame dismissed Gretchen. Not long after, she declared the meal at an end and dismissed Madeline and Jonah as well. She crept away while Jonah was saying his goodbyes to Madame and hid herself upstairs, even turning down the evening meal.
Later that evening, when Madeline was unable to rest, she crept downstairs with a letter of apology she’d written. Meaning to leave the letter on Madame’s chair, she was surprised to find the widow seated there, her gaze lifted to the heavens outside the open window.
Had the floorboard not creaked just at the moment Madeline attempted to make her escape, she might have gone back upstairs unnoticed and delivered the letter in the morning. Instead, the home and her conscience had conspired to put her right there in front of the one woman to whom she owed more than just a written apology.
“Come in, child,” Madame said softly. “I have been expecting you.”
Madeline crossed the distance between them to kneel in front of Madame. Holding the letter in her hand, she lifted her gaze to find her employer smiling.
“Words are so inadequate,” Madeline said as she handed the note to Madame and then bowed her head. “You trusted me. For that I am grateful, but for what I have done in deceiving you…”
Tears shimmered as Madame reached to lift her head and then placed her old and gnarled hands over Madeline’s. “You only thought to deceive me, Madeline, for I already knew who you were.”
“Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.” In that moment with the covering of the old fitted sweetly and softly over the hands of the new, Madeline smiled. And then she rested her head on Madame’s hands and cried.
Two days later
Jonah reluctantly slowed his pace to match Madeline’s as they walked down the Morgan’s Steamship Company dock toward the steamship Haven for their trip south down the coast to Indianola, a distance of just over one hundred fifty miles.
He gave his partner in this endeavor a sideways look. “Mrs. Smith might not think your lack of honesty is important, but I do.”
“My apology has been accepted. That’s all you need to know.”
Of course she would have convinced that nice old lady to forgive her. Madeline Latour could be quite convincing when she set her mind to it.
“I just
want you to understand that I will have nothing but the truth from you as long as we are forced to work together,” he said.
“And had I any say in the matter, we would not be working together.” She looked away. “But part of my job with Madame is to do what she asks of me. This is what she has asked.”
“And in exchange, you get access to whatever information you’re looking for.” He shook his head. “Madeline, you never cease to amaze me. How did you decide she was the one who would give you your answers on Lafitte? That is what this story you’re working on is about, isn’t it?”
“No comment.”
“Fine.” He let silence fall between them, preferring to end the discussion rather than listen to excuses or evasiveness. Two days had gone by and he still had not decided where the truth was in Madeline’s claims. If Mrs. Smith hadn’t insisted he make this trip immediately, Jonah might have put it off until he could better decide how to handle the nosy reporter.
He also disliked being away from his mother and sister while the person who dug holes on Cahill property remained at large. With Officer Pearson agreeing to stand guard in Jonah’s absence, he had reluctantly left the Cahill ladies in the police officer’s capable hands.
There had been no other holes dug, either on the property or in the cellar, since Jonah’s arrival on the island. He intended to keep it that way.
At the end of the dock, a representative of Morgan’s met them and took their bags. Another representative of the company escorted them to their staterooms. With a fine meal packed into a hamper by Mrs. Smith’s cook and his case notes to read, Jonah settled in for the overnight journey to Indianola.
After a few minutes, someone knocked on the door. Jonah opened the door to find Madeline standing there. He suppressed a groan. “Yes?”
She presented Jonah with a note. “This was in my hamper.”
Jonah opened it and read, “Please see Detective Cahill for your evening meal. Cook packed the dinner meal in his hamper and the breakfast meal in yours. Both are for you to share.”
He looked up at Madeline and then went over to the hamper and opened it. Inside was a selection of meats, several sealed bowls of side dishes, and a basket containing not only fluffy rolls and butter but also several wedges of corn bread. Stacked beneath it all in a container meant to keep the delicacy from being flattened was a pie.
“Apple,” Madeline said as she peered inside the basket.
“How can you tell?”
“Cook always leaves a clue there in the center of the piecrust.”
Jonah looked closely and found a small piece of dough carved into the shape of an apple and placed atop the crust. A dusting of sugar and cinnamon coated it all.
“Will it be an intrusion if I just prepare a plate and take it back to my cabin? I can return the plate with your half of tomorrow’s breakfast on it.” She paused. “After I wash it, of course.”
Jonah suppressed a smile. Madeline was nervous around him. Good. That gave him an advantage.
“Fine.” He returned to his chair and retrieved the case file, covertly observing the reporter as she went about the business of preparing her meal.
Though he tried, Jonah couldn’t see her standing over there and not think of what might have been. If he allowed himself, he could fall in love with her all over again.
But he couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t.
Madeline caught him watching and set her plate down. “I know you still don’t trust me, but you know what? There are things I do not trust about you either.”
“Brutal honesty, is it?” He lifted a brow and set the case file aside. “All right. Like what?”
The vessel shuddered, and she paused to brace herself against the wall beside her. “Detective Donovan is across the street from where I am staying when there is already one Pinkerton in town.” She paused. “I am taking you at your word that you aren’t investigating me or my family, but is he?”
Jonah gave the question a moment’s thought. Donovan’s explanation was plausible but could easily be a cover. “I honestly don’t know.”
“I believe you,” she said. “But again, I am not sure I believe him. Two Pinkerton agents working cases across the street from each other?”
He agreed. Still, he wouldn’t betray a fellow detective. “No comment,” he said instead. “So what has your papa done to warrant an investigation?”
“He claims there is nothing,” she was quick to say, although he thought he noted a slight quiver in her voice. “But in the course of helping his clients, I am sure he’s made a few enemies.”
Though Jonah had been ready to marry Madeline, her father had not seen fit to trust him with the secret of exactly what Latour & Sons did in their offices above the apothecary on Royal Street. With no sign on the door, anyone who walked past could miss the fact that three generations of Latours had toiled inside.
Being a careful man, Jonah had done his best to discover what went on there. All he could learn was that a century’s worth of goodwill earned by treating very high-placed clients well had given the company a sterling reputation.
“Have you thought of making a list of those enemies and investigating that angle?”
She looked surprised. “It would be helpful if my father would be forthcoming with that information. He is not.”
“That is the nature of the business, I guess,” Jonah said.
Madeline seemed to consider the statement. “It is, and that is why it could be anyone behind that investigation. I suppose my father will handle this without my help.”
“The company has been in business for a very long time without your help,” Jonah said. “So yes, I agree.”
Madeline smiled. “You know my father always liked you.”
“No,” he said truthfully, “I did not.”
“All right, maybe liked isn’t the right word,” she said with a grin. “He respected you. So, you made some veiled references in front of Madame. What was that about?”
He let out a long breath. Bad behavior on his part was inexcusable, but to have acted in such a way in front of a client was even worse.
“That,” Jonah said, “was a statement made in anger. I apologize.”
Again the vessel shuddered, and thunder rumbled outside.
“Oh, something has happened.”
“Oh no. I won’t be giving you fodder for one of your newspaper articles.” The expression on Madeline’s face told him he had said the wrong thing again. “Look, I’m sorry. Something did happen while I was away from my family that has me concerned.”
“Something related to treasure? You knew I’ve been interested in the Lafitte legacy for a long time.”
“Yes,” he said, again feeling ashamed of his assumption.
“Whether you believe me or not, it isn’t Lafitte’s treasure I am looking for or writing about. It’s something else, and I assure you it isn’t found in any hole in anyone’s yard.”
Madeline gathered up a set of utensils wrapped in a checked linen cloth and dropped them into her pocket. “Good night, Detective Cahill.”
“Good night, Madeline.”
She walked toward the door just in time for the vessel to lurch again, causing her to trip and fall against the wall. In the process, her plate went sliding in Jonah’s direction, splattering food everywhere.
“Oh!” she said as she landed on the floor beside a chicken leg and a slice of mutton that were somehow still situated on the plate. Madeline looked down in dismay at her skirts, now decorated with streaks of mashed potatoes, cranberry preserves, and a half slice of corn bread.
Her gaze swung over to where Jonah sat, her face unreadable. A sweet potato detached itself from the ceiling and landed in Madeline’s lap. She looked down at it and then back up at Jonah.
And then she began to laugh.
In that moment, it didn’t matter that there was a broken engagement and no trust between them. It mattered not that nothing bound them except their obligation to an assignment
each had agreed to continue despite the other.
Until the Haven docked tomorrow at Indianola, they were just two hungry travelers on a steamship skirting the Texas coast. His stomach growled in response.
Jonah rose and picked his way across a floor dotted with once edible food to reach the hamper. Serving himself a plate that included some of everything Cook had included, he retrieved his utensils and walked over to where Madeline still sat making the best of the remains of her meal.
And then he joined her on the floor.
Why Indianola?” Madeline asked as she accepted Jonah’s offer of a slice of buttered corn bread. “From what Madame has told me, her granddaughter is thought to be in Galveston.”
They had remained on the floor of the cabin, the better to dine without falling on a vessel that seemed to have arrived in choppy waters. While Jonah had been kind enough to overlook her awkward tumble and subsequent loss of her meal on his cabin floor, his face still bore a look of reluctance when she spoke.
“Because Indianola is where she was born. We’re starting at the beginning and following the trail of her life.” He paused. “So has she told you more stories since I read through the journals?”
“Only a few. Nothing of value as far as I can tell.”
Jonah regarded her across his plate. Outside, rain beat a heavy cadence on the deck above them, and the floor rolled beneath them. “I would like to see those new journal entries. I’m also waiting on the family Bible to be found.”
“I will check into both,” she said. “But I will warn you that it sounds more like a grandmother who believes her granddaughter can do no wrong rather than anything of use to our search.”
“Interesting that she would only now dictate a story on the granddaughter she has been so keen to find.” Jonah speared a slice of ham. “Exactly what kind of information on Lafitte were you seeking when you took the job with Mrs. Smith?”
“I cannot tell you that.”
“Will not,” he corrected.
She shrugged. “All right. Will not. I assure you I mean her no harm. That is really all you need to know.”
My Heart Belongs in Galveston, Texas Page 9