My Heart Belongs in Galveston, Texas

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  “And why was that?” Jonah demanded.

  “She asked me what I would have wanted if my father was in a hospital without me and a friend wanted to help. I’ll tell you what I told her. I would want that friend to help. The father, he was a friend. He helped. End of the story.”

  “And this was the same Father Brendan who was visiting earlier?”

  “One and the same,” she said.

  “And you know him from the church?”

  “Oh no,” she said. “I’m Lutheran, but what sort of priest would lie about his name?”

  Jonah shook his head. “One with something to hide?”

  “You don’t know that, Jonah,” Madeline offered. “It’s possible the commander was feeling better. When we left him last night, his color had improved and he was breathing well.”

  “Then we will pay him a visit,” Jonah said. “Enjoy your chair,” he told the nurse as they turned and walked away.

  A short time later, Jonah knocked on the door of the Montlake home on Mechanic Street.

  “No one is here,” Madeline said. “So maybe the priest took him to the church?”

  “There’s only one way to know,” he said as he escorted Madeline to St. Mary’s Church, where very quickly they were told there had never been a Father Brendan in the church’s employ.

  “Perhaps you could try St. Joseph’s,” the bishop’s assistant told them. “Or telegraph the bishop in San Antonio. Perhaps he has a record of where Father Brendan was sent after he left there.”

  A trip to St. Joseph’s Church on Avenue K had the same result. They then tried the Lutheran church in hopes that they had misunderstood and the gentleman was not Catholic. No one there had heard of Father Brendan either.

  Other than sending the telegram to San Antonio, Jonah was now out of options.

  “Perhaps he is a retired priest,” Madeline offered as they walked away.

  “He did look old enough, although they were adamant at all three churches that they’d never heard of the man.”

  “So we’re at a dead end.”

  Jonah shrugged. “I’m going to ask around. Montlake did not have family left, but most of Galveston knew him. Surely someone will know who his friend Father Brendan is. Assuming he gave us his real name.”

  She slid her arm around his. “Let’s think positively. We learned something from our visit, and the commander made a miraculous recovery from his accident.”

  “About that,” Jonah said. “My gut tells me that’s not the case.”

  Madeline looked up at him sharply. “Do you think the commander was kidnapped?”

  He did, but given Madeline’s affection for the old man, he decided to temper his words. “No evidence of it but I am not ruling it out.”

  “Fair enough,” she said. “Now walk me home. Madame wants me to record more stories in the journal this morning, and I’m sure she’s wondering where I am. Plus, I need to write to my editor, and I owe a letter to my family.”

  Jonah thought of the letter he had posted to Phillip Latour and smiled.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing. What are you planning to tell your editor?”

  “With Madame’s permission, I plan to pitch a reunion story with Annabelle and Jordy as the focus and to promise to have it done in time for the Easter issue.”

  He nodded. Either his unrelenting reporter had thought better of exposing whatever deep dark secrets she thought Mrs. Smith was keeping or she’d found a better tale to tell. Either way, he liked it.

  And her.

  “What?” she asked again.

  “I think that’s a great idea.”

  He saw her home safely and then laughed when she opened the door and the noise of a giggling child drifted toward him. If nothing else came out of this investigation, the fact that an old lady was presented with a family she didn’t know she had would make it a success.

  “That you, Cahill?”

  He turned around to see Detective Donovan walking up Broadway Avenue toward him. Though he hadn’t decided completely whether the detective had told him the truth regarding the intruder in the garden, he was close to determining he had.

  Friday’s dinner with Pearson should confirm what he was already thinking. That Donovan handed the guy over in good faith and was simply too busy to follow up on what he assumed the police were handling.

  That’s what he would have done, though he liked to think he would have remembered to check. Still, though they were both Pinkerton trained, they were also both human.

  “I thought you’d gone back to Chicago,” he said as he offered his fellow Pinkerton detective a handshake.

  “This place is hard to leave, especially given the weather here. Have you taken the time to go down to the beach?”

  “I have,” he said as he thought of Madeline dancing in the surf and smiled.

  “From your expression, it looks like you liked it.”

  “Very much,” he said. “So what brings you here?”

  “I just left a meeting with Mr. Brown. Captain wanted me to follow up and then make a report. After that, I’m off to Chicago unless I can convince the boss to give me another job here. Where are you off to?”

  “Need to send a telegram,” Jonah said as they paused at the corner to allow traffic to pass and then crossed the street. “You really like Galveston.”

  “I do,” he said. “You probably have no idea what this is like, but I get tired of not having a home to call my own. It would be nice to settle down somewhere and not have to be packing for the next assignment after just getting back from the previous one.”

  “What would you do?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve thought a lot about that over the past few days. Even went down to the other end of the island and looked at a piece of grazing land that’s up for sale. I’ve got to say I am sorely tempted.”

  “But?”

  “But a Pinkerton’s salary won’t pay for a ranch house and prime coastal grazing land, so I’m left just wishing unless I find another way.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” Jonah said. “In the meantime, remember that case I told you I was working on? The lady across the street from the Browns?”

  “The Smith lady,” he said with a nod. “What about it?”

  “I’m at a dead end on the investigation and I need another opinion. Care to give me yours?”

  “Be glad to,” Donovan said.

  “Remember I’m dealing with something that happened twenty-five years ago,” he said. “But I’ve got two witnesses claiming to be firsthand sources. The first one’s story agrees with the second, and neither were present when the other one spoke with me. For that matter, I don’t think they know one another or have spoken since the incident.”

  “Sounds like good testimony, then. Are you questioning the validity?”

  Jonah shook his head. “More like the details. Taken separately, neither one helps me find my missing person. But put together, it makes more sense and gives me a solid direction. Problem is, my second source is less reliable, mostly due to age and health, and has not given me any details I can work with.”

  “Then you discard that information,” Donovan said.

  “On what reason?”

  “Preponderance of the evidence,” he said. “It sounds like you’re hoping that your second guy can add to what your first guy said and send you in the right direction. But if the second guy hasn’t given you reliable details, then don’t go on what he said until he does. That’s basic investigative theory, Jonah.”

  Much as Jonah hated it, Donovan was right. “Without the second guy, all I have is a general idea of what happened to the people my missing person was with. The six of them separated into parties of three and went in different directions. I can account for the members of one group but not the others. Unfortunately, the group I can locate was not with the missing person.”

  Donovan stepped aside to allow a mother with two boys in tow to pass and then caught up to Jonah once more. “O
kay, who else can? Is there someone else who was in that second party who can corroborate?”

  “There were three in that second party. My missing person, my witness, and a third person as yet unidentified. I have a dead man’s word that this person knew nothing.”

  Detective Donovan’s chuckle held no humor. “And we all know how valuable a dead man’s testimony is.”

  “So I need to find that third person.”

  He nodded. “That’s where I would start. Do you have any ideas on how to do that?”

  Jonah stopped short. “I do, but this is where we part ways. I think the person I need to ask is the one who has me running in circles.”

  “Mrs. Smith?”

  “Exactly.” He reached out to shake Detective Donovan’s hand. “Thank you for the advice. Are your travel plans set yet?”

  “Taking the train to Houston on Saturday morning.” He let out a long breath. “From there it’s straight north and then the next assignment.”

  “There’s always that next assignment waiting, isn’t there?”

  Donovan shrugged. “Until I figure out how to claim that ranch down the road from here, yes, that’s true.”

  A thought occurred. “Say, since you don’t leave until Saturday, how about joining me for dinner Friday night? A few others are coming, and we’d be happy to have you.”

  He grinned. “And I’d be happy to have a home-cooked meal.”

  Jonah told him the time. “And you know where I live?”

  “Everyone on the island does, my friend,” he said. “It’s the house that’s sitting on top of Lafitte’s treasure.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read in the newspaper,” he called as he walked away.

  “If I did, I’d believe you and that pretty little reporter from New Orleans were more than just friends.”

  “That I’m all right with you believing,” Jonah said over his shoulder.

  “Don’t blame you, my friend.”

  Donovan’s laughter chased him as Jonah turned to head back down Broadway Avenue. A few blocks later, he arrived back at the Smith home.

  The surly maid let him inside and left him waiting by the front door while she went to fetch Mrs. Smith. There was no sign of Madeline, though he expected she was hidden away somewhere working on her letters or possibly with Mrs. Smith recording memories.

  “Go to the garden,” the maid said when she returned.

  Jonah complied, retracing his steps onto the front porch and then following the sound of a child’s laughter until he arrived at the gazebo where Mrs. Smith was seated. A swing had been hung from a tree, and Annabelle was seated on it with Jordy on her lap.

  “Detective Cahill,” she said as she nodded toward her family. “Is there anything better than this?”

  “There is not,” he agreed. “Except perhaps to find your other granddaughter. Have you considered she may have given you great-grandchildren as well?”

  “I believe she will,” she told him. “So what brings you here on this beautiful morning? Miss Latour is working on some things in the library if you are here to see her.”

  “No,” he said as he sat down beside her. “I am here to see you.”

  “Oh my,” she said with a half smile that told him she had noticed his abruptness. “How can I help you?”

  “I want the name of that serving girl, Mrs. Smith. I know you know who she is, and unless I miss my guess, you know where she is.”

  Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and then a smile rose. “You are quite blunt, Detective Cahill.”

  “As I recall, that is why you hired me.”

  “Yes, it is.” She lifted a bejeweled finger to push away an errant strand of silver hair and then returned her attention to her family on the lawn.

  “I am at a dead end,” he said gently. “That serving girl has information I need.”

  “Then you are in luck.” She slid him a sideways look. “It happens that I may know where she is.”

  Jonah leaned back. “I thought you might.”

  Madame swiveled to face him, her smile broad. “We are nearing the end of our investigation, are we not?”

  “It is possible,” he said. “I feel this serving girl could give us the answers we need.”

  “Despite what my son told me?”

  He looked down at his boots then back up at her. “I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, but I believe your son was wrong. That girl knows something. The question is why you aren’t asking her where your Trésor is.”

  “Come to dinner here Friday night,” she said.

  Jonah shook his head, confused at the abrupt change of subject. “I regret I cannot. I have a prior dinner obligation.”

  “Then bring them.”

  “I couldn’t. There will be at least six of us. More if my sister has invited extras. But truly, I came here to talk about this girl.”

  “Bring your family and any guests you wish,” she insisted. “The more the merrier as we are having dinner out here under the stars to celebrate. Since you and Miss Latour are responsible for returning my Annabelle and her Jordy to me, I wouldn’t hear of you missing it.”

  Jonah opened his mouth to protest, but Mrs. Smith silenced him by holding up her hands. “I know,” she said. “I am evading the answer to the question you’ve asked. Humor me today. I only wish to enjoy my newfound family.”

  “And I wish to provide one more member of that family to you if you will just help me do that.”

  “Oh,” she said gently. “I plan to. You have my word I will see that you are able to interview this girl, and from that interview perhaps you will find the clues that lead you to my Trésor.”

  “Thank you. One more question if you don’t mind,” he said as a thought occurred. “How well do you know Horace Montlake?”

  Her smile wobbled. “He is a very old friend. Why do you ask?”

  “He had an accident yesterday and almost drowned. Miss Latour and I were called to his bedside last night to hear a confession.”

  Her brows gathered. “What sort of confession?”

  “A rather disjointed one. He made the claim that he rowed the boat your granddaughter and the serving girl escaped in.”

  Mrs. Smith gasped. “Why would Horace say that?”

  “I don’t know,” Jonah admitted. “But he thought he was dying when he said it. Then an hour later, he was seen leaving the hospital with a friend. Miss Latour believes it to be a miracle recovery.”

  “But you don’t, I can tell.” She paused to wave when Jordy called her name. “Who was the friend?”

  “That’s where it gets interesting. He said his name was Father Brendan. He was certainly dressed as a priest, and he claimed he was recently arrived from San Antonio. I have checked the local churches, and no one has heard of him. That is all I know.”

  “Oh.” She rose abruptly. “Would you mind helping me inside? I’m feeling a bit tired.”

  “Of course.” Jonah did as she asked and escorted Mrs. Smith inside. The maid met them at the door, and he wondered whether once again she had been listening.

  “Detective,” Mrs. Smith said just as his fingers touched the doorknob. “What will you do about Horace?”

  “File a police report,” he said, and she answered with a nod. “Then I will see you tomorrow night.”

  “Very good,” she said as she turned and allowed the maid to lead her away. “Good day then, Detective.”

  Jonah responded and then looked over to see Madeline peering out from the library door. “Hello, Madeline,” he said and then grinned when she pressed her finger to her lips as if to silence him.

  He waited until Mrs. Smith had disappeared down the corridor before sweeping his future wife—pending her father’s approval, of course—into his arms and kissing her thoroughly.

  “Jonah,” she said softly, “you are incorrigible.”

  “Considering the other things you’ve called me, I think I prefer incorrigible.” He stole another kiss then ducked out of the wa
y when she pretended to swat him.

  “I heard you telling Madame goodbye. Where are you off to?” she asked.

  “I thought I’d send a telegram to San Antonio and see what I can find out about Father Brendan.” He looked past her to the sealed letters on the table. “Would you like me to post those for you?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Actually, I have another errand in town, so I thought I might join you, unless you have other plans.”

  “I would like that very much.” Scooping up her letters, Madeline grinned and scooted past him to head for the door. “Good, because one of us owes the other a treat from T. Ratto & Company Confectioners.”

  “That would be me,” he said as he hurried to follow her outside.

  “Oh no,” she called, already at the gate. “That would be me.”

  “You know Mr. Ratto will throw us out again if we don’t decide this before we get there,” he called as he shut the gate behind him.

  Madeline laughed over her shoulder at him and picked up her pace. “Then I suppose we’ll just have to risk it.”

  He caught up to her and fell in step. “We will just end up in the alley again,” he said.

  She looked up at him, a smile dawning. “I’m counting on that.”

  By Friday, Madeline had given up on ever finding the missing key. She had also given up on hearing back from her father after she’d written asking for him to accept her apology.

  Considering that letter had also informed her mother and father that she and Jonah were back together, she was anxious to know what Papa thought of it all. Mama had been near to tears when the wedding was called off, but Madeline suspected that had been as much because Madeline would not be a bride as it was in regard to who the groom might be.

  But Papa, he had remained stoic. He had never much cared for Jonah and had not encouraged the relationship. It would be interesting to see if his opinion had changed, especially given the fact that he had indicated he wished her to find the right man very soon.