“That’s because they missed. Both times. And honestly, I’m pretty sure they were after Miss Latour. So, Thomas Pearson, please meet Miss Madeline Latour.”
Madeline and the officer exchanged pleasantries, and then Pearson took the last empty chair on the patio, directly across from the Daily News reporter. “So what did you tell them, Mr. Townsend?”
“I told them I don’t know,” he said. “Don’t know who dug those holes and don’t know who put that article out in the paper today.”
The police officer shrugged as he looked at Jonah. “Sounds like he doesn’t know.”
“It does sound that way,” Jonah conceded. “However, he has assured us that he can use his above average investigative skills to uncover who did.”
“Well, that is a relief.” Pearson turned his attention to Madeline. “I don’t believe I have seen you here in Galveston before. Are you just visiting?”
“I am here with my employer on assignment,” she told him.
Townsend’s eyes widened. “There are others from the Picayune staff here in Galveston? How was I not made aware of this?”
Madeline shook her head. “No, this has nothing to do with my job at the Picayune. My employer is a widow lady,” she said. “I am recording her memories for her.”
“Anything interesting?” Townsend said as he leaned toward her.
“Mr. Townsend,” she said in that I-cannot-believe-you-said-that voice that Jonah knew too well, “everything I record for my employer is private information. I’m sure you understand.”
“Sure, of course,” he said. “Forget I asked. Unless you change your mind, that is.” Townsend laughed at his own joke, but no one else joined him.
Jonah stood, and Officer Pearson joined him. “I think we’re done here.”
“So soon?” Townsend said. “I had some questions of my own. Remember, I did promise to find out who is behind the article and digging.”
Jonah frowned. “If you’re as good as you say you are, you will bring me a name soon.”
Townsend said his goodbyes and walked away. “Pearson,” Jonah said. “Would you mind seeing he gets at least to the end of the street? I don’t want him coming back here without an invitation.”
“Sure will.” He tipped his cap to Madeline and then shook Jonah’s hand. A moment later, he was gone.
“So,” Madeline said once they were alone. “What do you think about all that?”
He thought Townsend had something to hide. What that something was, Jonah had not yet determined.
“I am still deciding,” he said. “What about you?”
“Yes, I am as well.” She rose. “I should go. Madame is going to wonder why I have been gone so long.”
Madeline took a few steps toward the edge of the property before Jonah caught up to her and offered her his arm. “Considering what happened in Indianola, I plan to see you safely back to Mrs. Smith’s home.”
She looked as if she might be about to protest, and then she nodded slowly. “Yes, all right. I don’t suppose that’s a bad idea, although no one in Galveston has fired a shot at me yet.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes, and then Jonah decided to voice the question that had been on his mind since he saw Madeline coming out of the newspaper offices with Townsend. “Why did you go see that reporter, Madeline?”
Madeline did not miss a step even though her attention jerked in Jonah’s direction. “I saw the same headline you did,” she said.
“And you thought you’d finally get your information about the Lafitte treasure?”
Of course that is why she sought out Walter Townsend, but Madeline would never admit anything of the sort to Jonah. She understood his need to protect his family from strangers who might seek to profit, but she also had an investigation to conduct.
“Madeline?”
“No,” she admitted. “He claims to know nothing about it. You arrived before I could decide whether he was telling the truth.”
They paused to allow a cart laden with hay to pass by, and then Jonah led her across the street. She matched his pace as she tugged at the ribbons on her hat to keep the wind from blowing it away.
“We had the same inclination in going to speak to Townsend.” Madeline looked over and offered him a smile. “I just got to him before you did.”
“Yes, I suppose you did,” he said. “So what did he say before I arrived?”
“He said hello. He tried to be charming by inviting me to join him on some investigation he was headed to, and then he left his office and assumed I was following.”
“Which you were.”
“Only because there was no reason to stay behind in the building.” Madeline stopped short and turned to face him. “Just accuse me of whatever you think I did so I can defend myself properly.”
He looked away then returned his attention to Madeline. “Look, I’m sorry. For you this is an investigation, but for me this is personal.” Jonah paused. “But that does not excuse bad behavior.”
“No,” she said as she watched him appear to struggle with what he was about to say. “It does not. But I understand.”
And she did.
“Thank you.” He took her elbow and urged her to continue their walk toward Madame’s home. “I am just trying to fit these pieces together, and so far I’m not making much progress. I have decided you didn’t dig those holes.”
“Well that’s nice,” she said as she shook her head. “Dare I ask why?”
“Like Townsend said, if you had, you’d have covered up the evidence. But more than that, if you had, I think you would have somehow convinced me to help you dig.”
Madeline smiled at the reminder of a certain investigation she’d carried out back when she and Jonah were still a couple. Her informant sent a map along with the assurance that the evidence she needed to prove the suspect’s guilt would be left on the property.
She had brought Jonah along on the pretense of not wishing to go alone and then surprised him upon arrival with the fact that the evidence they needed had been buried in the suspect’s yard.
“Ah, the Valmont story,” she said as she nudged his arm with her elbow. “I won a prize for that investigation.”
“And I got a sore back and a job offer as a day laborer.”
She joined him in laughing and then allowed the conversation to fall into companionable silence. By the time they turned onto Broadway Avenue, Madeline’s thoughts had turned to a question in dire need of asking.
“Jonah, I have been wondering about something,” Madeline finally said. “I have not seen all the documents you have, but I did look through the registry in Indianola and I listened to you talk to the sheriff and the other men. In all of this, have you formed an opinion as to whether Mrs. Smith’s granddaughter is out there to be found or not?”
“I hope she is,” he said as he held the gate open for Madeline then closed it after they both stepped inside the property. “That old lady sure wants her to be. As to whether I have found any concrete facts that point to finding her? Not yet, but I am going to keep trying until I do or until she finally tells me to stop.”
“Us,” Madeline corrected. “We’re a team now, according to Madame.”
“That was a surprise,” he said.
“I agree.” Madeline stalled to look up into the Pinkerton’s eyes. “Jonah, I wish things were different between us.”
He looked away and then returned his focus to her. He said nothing.
She sighed. “And that is my fault. I know I keep saying this, but I am sorry.”
To her surprise, Jonah chuckled. “I keep saying it too.”
“Aren’t we a pair?” she said. “Some team we are.”
Jonah’s smile was slow to appear. “We used to make a great team, Madeline.”
“We did,” she said as she reached over to touch his sleeve. “Do you think we can again?”
He seemed to consider the question and then finally he nodded. “I do.”
“Me too
,” she said, “but only if we start over. Completely, I mean. With neither of us having to continually apologize or try to get over the stupid things we did in the past. Can we do that?”
Jonah placed his hand on top of hers. Unlike that simple touch beneath the stars aboard the Haven, this time he looked into her eyes.
“Hello, Madeline.”
“Hello, Jonah,” she said as she felt herself giving in to the pull of those eyes, of that smile. “It is very nice to meet you.”
The front door opened, and Gretchen stepped outside, jerking Madeline from her thoughts. “Monsieur Cahill, Madame asked that you pay her a visit in the parlor as soon as possible. I was about to have the stable boy deliver the message, but here you are.” She looked down her nose at Madeline. “You are to attend to Madame as well. Immediately.”
Madeline pressed past the maid and walked down the hall to the parlor with Jonah behind her. At the door, she knocked.
“Oh do come in,” Madame said. “I have the best news and… oh… Detective Cahill is with you. Excellent. Sit. Both of you.”
Madame indicated the small settee nearest her, and Madeline complied. Rather than join her on the cramped furniture, Jonah walked around her to sit in the window seat.
“Detective Cahill, this will likely not take you by surprise, but I have only just learned this morning that our president will be visiting in a few days.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jonah said. “I did know that.”
“Did you also know that I have secured an invitation to the ball that the Browns are throwing in his honor on the 25th?”
“That’s wonderful,” Madeline said. “I will be happy to help you prepare for the ball. It will do you good to get out and enjoy yourself.”
“Oh no, child,” she said with a smile. “I am not going. You and Detective Cahill are.”
“Why?” they said together.
Madame chuckled. “Oh listen to you. You even sound like a team.” She sobered. “You are going because the people you need to meet will all be there. Imagine a gathering where Sealeys, Moodys, and all of Galveston society will be there. All the two of you have to do is watch, listen, and if possible ask a few questions. More important is to make a good impression. Mingle. Get invited to more gatherings so you can travel in that social circle. If you do that, I have a feeling you will find my girl.”
She reached over to ring the bell, and Gretchen tumbled into the room. Of course once again she had been listening in the hallway, so her distance to travel was extremely short.
“Help me to my room, dear,” she told Gretchen. “I am ready for my nap. And have Cook bring out tea and cookies for our guest.”
Gretchen glared at Madeline over her shoulder and then disappeared out into the hall with Madame.
“I don’t think your maid likes you,” Jonah said with a lift of his brows.
“That is an understatement.” Madeline rose and moved toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Unless you wish to stay for tea and cookies, I need to put a stop to the refreshments before Cook goes to the trouble of preparing them.”
“I suppose that’s fair,” he said. “I’ve got some work to do anyway.”
“Wait just a minute, Detective Cahill,” she said. “Would this be work that you should be sharing with your partner?”
Jonah grinned as he pressed past her, but he said nothing. “Jonah,” she called, following him out onto the porch. “You better not be working on this case without me, do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” he said as the gate slammed behind him. “But that doesn’t mean I am listening.”
“You wait right there,” she called. “I am coming with you.”
Jonah turned around to come back to the gate but remained out on the sidewalk. “Do you understand what Mrs. Smith just required of you?”
She shook her head. “To go to a ball and talk to people?”
“For a reporter you sure do miss the obvious, Madeline.” He glanced over at the Browns’ home and then back at Madeline. “Our boss has insisted you and I pretend to actually like one another. In public.”
“Well,” she said with a laugh, “I like you. Sort of.”
“And I like you. Sort of.” He shook his head. “But we are going to have to do better than that if we want to play a convincing couple.”
She gave him a mock-serious look. “I do see the dilemma.”
“We’ve both got investigative experience,” he said. “What do you suggest?”
“Well, now, I think you will have to decide what role you’re playing and then present yourself as that.”
“So since Mrs. Smith wants us to go to this fancy party as a couple, I need to act like I am crazy about you?”
Madeline could only laugh as Jonah made a silly face. “Yes, exactly. But I think that’s the wrong kind of crazy. You should act like you are in love with me, Jonah. Pretend.”
His expression slipped for a split second, and then he glanced down Broadway Avenue before looking back at her. Jonah motioned her over to the fence just as a well-appointed carriage rolled to the curb across the street.
“Remember,” he said as he leaned close to whisper in her ear, “we love each other.”
His hand wrapped around the back of her neck as his lips found hers. Just as they had done so many times. Despite herself, Madeline leaned in to the kiss and allowed herself to pretend too.
And then, just like that, Jonah stepped back, leaving her to hold tight to the fence to keep her knees from buckling. He turned before she could speak, a good thing considering she likely could have said nothing that made sense.
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Brown,” he said to the elegant woman stepping out of her carriage across the street. “Beautiful weather we are having, isn’t it? Looks like it agrees with your roses.”
“Jonah Cahill, is that you?”
He grinned. “It is, and this is Miss Latour, my very dear friend.”
“So I see,” she said with what appeared to be amusement. “I take it the two of you will be attending my ball. We have quite the important guest, and I wouldn’t want you to miss it.”
“We will be there, ma’am,” he said as he casually slipped his arm around Madeline, who was grateful for the assistance in remaining upright.
When Mrs. Brown had disappeared inside her home, Jonah took a step back from the gate, his expression completely changed. “Well, Madeline, that should do it.”
Somehow she managed a nod. And a good excuse to hurry back inside before she asked him to repeat that performance for the milkman who was passing by.
On the evening of the ball, Madeline watched the preparations from her third-floor window most of the day. The lovely dress Madame had delivered for her now hung on the peg, and her dancing shoes waited on the floor beside it.
The gown was an evening dress of blue silk made in the princess shape with a low corsage and short sleeves. The skirt was trimmed with four knife pleats, and the drapery atop it was white satin de Lyon that had been made to fall in a very long train in the back.
Madeline had indeed felt like a princess each time the seamstress arrived for a fitting. Just looking at it now made her smile.
Gretchen had been called in to tie up her corset and arrange Madeline’s hair into something worthy of a formal occasion. The maid now stood behind her at the mirror, comb poised and her usual surly look in place while Madeline struggled to take a deep breath.
“You know what?” Madeline said as she reached to take the comb from Gretchen’s hand. “I think I can manage this myself.”
“Like you managed getting off that ledge,” she said.
“I could have gotten off that ledge just fine if you hadn’t closed the window.” She watched Gretchen’s expression closely. “Or rather if you hadn’t locked it.”
“I do as I am told,” the maid said as she snatched the comb back. “And tonight I am told by Madame to do something
to make your hair acceptable for the party.”
“Acceptable. Well, as long as you have high standards,” Madeline said sarcastically as she turned around to endure a full hour of torture. Finally the pain ceased and Gretchen offered her the mirror.
“It is now acceptable.”
Madeline gasped. Her hair had been arranged in chatelaine braids fastened by a large bouquet of roses, presumably from Madame’s collection downstairs.
Much as it pained her—literally—Madeline had to admit that Gretchen did have considerable hairdressing skills. “Where did you learn this?” she asked when the ordeal was over.
“I was taught,” she said simply.
“Taught?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “Someone teaches a skill and you learn it. It’s a simple thing, no?”
“No, I mean yes, I suppose.”
Gretchen looked away. “No. And we are done here. If you need help getting into that dress, you ring for the scullery maid, understand?”
“Gretchen,” she said as the maid stepped out into the hall. “I am sorry for whoever hurt you.”
The maid looked as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she slammed the door, her footsteps echoing in the corridor outside.
Madeline stared at the closed door. What in the world had possessed her to say that? The words had come out, unbidden and certainly unexpected.
Madeline walked over to where the rest of her ensemble had been laid out. Due to the cut of the neckline and the jewelry Madame had chosen for her, the necklace she had worn since the last time she saw her papa would have to come off for the evening.
Lifting the chain over her head to place it on the table beside the mirror, she keenly felt its absence as she heard Papa’s words of warning. “Keep this close to you and never take it off, do you understand?”
Surely he wouldn’t mind if she left the bauble for a few hours while she was only across the street. What could possibly happen in such a short time?
Madeline managed to dress without calling for help, but she thought she might have to ring for someone when the sapphire necklace Madame insisted she wear refused to latch. Finally she managed the feat.
My Heart Belongs in Galveston, Texas Page 13