by Megan Besing
Heat flooded her cheeks. “I would rather not,” she said.
“But you wrote them, didn’t you?” At her nod, he continued. “Then humor me, Miss Conrad. Either let me read them or tell me what they say.”
“Again, I prefer not to.”
Detective Bingham’s expression turned sour. “I could confiscate them. Or I could assume you decided to continue the fraud by sending those.”
“But I just told you…” she managed before she collected her thoughts. “Very well. I will tell you.”
He leaned forward. “Go on.”
“When I received your telegram,” she began, “I was, well, I had given up hope that you would respond. When you did, without telling Mrs. Baronne I wrote to the other men with whom I had been corresponding to tell them I wished to end our exchange of letters and to promise that I would return any gifts they had sent.”
“How were you going to do that?”
“I hadn’t exactly figured that out,” she said. “Although I had a list and knew what would need to be returned to whom.”
“Where did you keep that list?”
She sighed. “In my desk at Mrs. Baronne’s home.”
He leaned back in the chair. “So it’s gone.”
“Yes,” was all she could manage. “Everything is gone. Again.”
A knock at the door prevented his response. A different uniformed servant stepped inside to deliver some sort of note.
“Stay there,” the detective told her. “I will be right back.”
When Detective Bingham stepped outside and closed the door, May rose. Stay there. She’d heard that phrase all her life, first from her father who’d walked out one day and never returned. Then from her mama whose needs required May’s care. Just when she’d been released from her duty of caring for her mother, she’d heard the same thing from Mrs. Baronne, the woman whose kindness had actually been anything but kind.
It was all too much. May straightened her spine and waited for the Pinkerton detective’s return. When he opened the door, she was ready.
“I’m done with waiting,” she told him. “And I am done with hiding and being told to stay behind. If Mrs. Baronne has been caught, then I want to see her now. I will offer my testimony at the police station. If she has not, then let’s go find her.”
The detective grinned. “Well now,” he said as if surprised. “How long was I gone?”
“Long enough for me to realize I am tired of letting others tell me what to do. I participated in this fraud, and I intend to see those responsible punished.”
He walked over to the desk and sat again. “I’m glad you said that, Miss Conrad, because we’ve got a situation, and the way I see it, your cooperation would go a long way toward putting an end to it.”
“Let me guess. Mrs. Baronne is not in police custody.”
The detective shook his head. “Apparently she was able to talk her way out of being arrested by claiming to be the victim. I suspect money changed hands but cannot prove it. In any case, the officer elected to let her go.”
She walked over to the desk and leaned against the edge. “Let’s catch them, then.”
The timid woman who stepped into his father’s library was gone, and in her place was a version of May Conrad that Jeremiah did not recognize but liked very much. Though he very much wanted to respond, all he could do was stare.
And despite it all, he still wanted to protect her.
“What?” she finally said. “Are you surprised?” She shrugged. “So am I, a little. But I have had enough, and I am ready to end this on my own terms. I was party to this fraud, and I will see that justice is done.”
Jeremiah grinned. “I feel like I ought to let Mr. Pinkerton know I’ve deputized a new detective.”
Miss Conrad’s brows rose. “Can you do that?”
“I’m afraid not,” he said as he watched disappointment color her lovely face. “But it’s just a formality. If you’re truly ready to see the Baronnes behind bars, you can start by telling me everything you know about both of them.”
She nodded. “Before I do that, however, I want to tell you how sorry I am that you were caught up in this fraud. Of all the men I corresponded with, you were the only one I agreed to meet in person.”
It took him a minute to realize she thought he, too, was a victim. That she expected he was romantically interested in her.
Which was preposterous, of course. And yet, had he seen her walking down the street or been introduced to her at one of his mother’s parties, he would certainly have had a healthy interest in getting to know her.
“Detective?” the object of his thoughts said. “Is there something wrong?”
“Nothing, no,” he quickly said. “Let me just get pen and paper so I can take notes and we will begin.”
After almost an hour of work, Jeremiah rang for a maid who brought refreshments along with a response to the telegram he’d sent to Mr. Pinkerton updating him on the situation.
He unfolded the telegram as Miss Conrad reached for the teapot.
FOLLOW LEADS. Stop. DON’T LET SUSPECT OUT OF YOUR SIGHT. Stop. ASK ABOUT HER FATHER. Stop.
“None for me, thanks,” he said when she offered. “Do you mind if we continue?”
“No, of course.” She set her teacup down and began toying with the lace on her sleeve. “Where were we?”
Jeremiah folded the telegram and placed it in the desk drawer. He glanced down at his notes and then back up at her. “I think you’ve given me good information on the Baronnes. Let’s change the subject for a minute. Tell me about you, Miss Conrad.”
“Me?” Her fingers stilled. “Why?”
“Humor me,” he said. “You never know when something that seems unimportant will end up being the fact that turns the case around.”
“All right,” she said. “I was born in the house on Dumont Street and was raised there as the only child to my parents, Cora and Theodore Conrad. My mother never completely recovered from my birth and was an invalid until her death last fall.”
“And your father?” She looked away, a sure sign in his line of work that the person being interrogated did not want to answer the question. “Miss Conrad?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.” Her attention returned to him, those jade-green eyes now revealing nothing of what she might be thinking. “He sailed on ships when I was a child. One day he left and didn’t come back.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That must have been difficult. Have you tried to find him?” She appeared to be considering her response. “It was, and I have not. I fail to understand how this is pertinent to the case.”
Jeremiah shook his head. “I’m just trying to be thorough.”
They lapsed into silence as Jeremiah scribbled notes regarding their conversation. When he finished, he looked up to find Miss Conrad had wandered over to the bookshelves and was holding a slim leather volume.
“Are you a reader?” he asked as he set the pen aside.
“Reading was my lifeline to the world for many years.” She returned the volume to its place on the shelf then turned to face him. “But those days are gone. I would like very much to finish with this interview so we can get on with finding these awful people.”
Jeremiah rose to walk around the desk. Resting his hip on the edge of the desk, he crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her evenly. “You really want revenge, don’t you?”
“Not at all,” she said, her expression showing surprise. “I merely want those men who were misled to have their gifts returned. I know she’s put them away, or at least I hope she has. Even though my list burned with the house, I have their addresses and can write to find out what they’ve sent.”
“You would do that?” He gave her a sideways look. “What if they don’t tell you the truth? You could easily be taken advantage of.”
“That is between them and God,” she said. “It is only up to me to return what they claim they are owed.”
“And if it’s gone?”
Despite the fact she had obviously spent her entire life dependent on others, May Conrad obviously did not accept charity easily. He let out a long breath and shook his head.
“I’m afraid I cannot do that,” he said, keeping his expression neutral even as hers fell. “You see, I’ve got some news for you. Remember how you asked about being deputized?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “You said you could not.”
“Indeed at that moment, I could not,” he said as he thought about how best to proceed. “However, as you might have noticed, I received a telegram.” At her nod, he continued. “That telegram was from Mr. Pinkerton. I’ve been keeping him up to date on what has happened here. And Mr. Pinkerton has authorized me to allow you to work this case with me. His exact instructions were to follow all leads and not let you out of my sight.”
Miss Conrad worried the letters still in her hand rather than respond. This told Jeremiah she was considering his statement carefully. Finally she swung her gaze up to meet his.
“So I am to be deputized to work on this case with you, then?”
“Of a sort, yes,” he said. “Providing you agree to the terms, which are that you are to remain with me at all times and that we will follow all leads as instructed by Mr. Pinkerton himself.”
“So I am a Pinkerton detective,” she said softly. “Oh my.”
How in the world would he explain this to Mr. Pinkerton? Jeremiah’s best defense was to say that he was merely doing what he’d been told and keeping the suspect close at hand. Yes, he’d go with that should he be questioned.
He upped his smile. “So, since you are now officially deputized, you should know that the position does come with an allowance for expenses.” He paused. “That should cover not only the postage you need but also a new wardrobe, given that yours is probably still smoldering over on Dumont Street.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “I suppose it is.”
The mantel clock chimed. “Well, Deputy Detective Conrad, I think we’ve made significant progress today.” He rang for a maid. “Until we catch these folks, you’re safest here in this house. You will have a suite of rooms on the second floor at your disposal, but I will ask that you do not leave the property without me.”
“I suppose that’s fair.”
The maid knocked twice then stepped inside. “Please show Deputy Detective Conrad to her rooms.” He turned back to Miss Conrad. “Shall we meet back here at seven? That should give you time to settle in and write your letters.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, though she made no move to leave. “Detective Bingham,” she finally said. “Thank you.”
“No, Miss Conrad,” he easily responded. “Thank you for agreeing to help.”
Her smile was radiant as she followed the maid out of the library. Once his new deputy was gone, Jeremiah returned to the chair where his father used to sit and sank down into its depths.
“What in the world have I done?”
“I was just about to ask,” came a familiar voice from the door. “But I didn’t want to interrupt you and Deputy Detective Conrad while you were deep into your investigation. Is it true she is to be your mail-order bride? If it is, then congratulations. It’s about time you settled down.”
Jeremiah looked over at the door and groaned. Of all the family members who might have arrived unannounced at the New Orleans home, why did it have to be his matchmaking sister?
“Hello, Stella,” he managed. “Do come in.”
“Wouldn’t dream of interrupting,” his socialite sister said with a wave of her hand. “I thought I’d just go and welcome Miss Conrad to our humble home.” She paused to offer another smile. “And to our family.”
“How long were you listening?”
“Long enough,” she said. “You ordered a mail-order bride?”
Jeremiah sighed. “As part of a Pinkerton investigation, yes. Is John here, or did you come alone?”
“My husband is handling family business in New York City, and I’ll be joining him there in a week or so. But as to this bride, funny how you chose one who was perfect for you, Jeremiah.”
He ignored the obvious attempt at matchmaking. “Despite what you think you heard, Miss Conrad and I are not engaged. We were discussing a case. And as to the family, she doesn’t know, and I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t tell her.”
“Doesn’t know what?” Stella shook her head. “That this is our home? That you’re ridiculously wealthy?” She giggled. “Oh Jeremiah. She doesn’t know any of it, does she? This is going to be so much fun.”
Chapter 6
May lifted her hand to knock on the closed door of the library. Not only had she written the letters as promised, but she had also partaken of a long soak in lavender-scented bathwater.
During her soak, someone had taken May’s day dress away to be laundered and left a lovely blue formal gown. The maid insisted on helping her dress and do up her hair, even insisting she wear a matching set of sapphires at her neck and ears.
The outfit seemed a bit much for a meeting in the library. Perhaps that was all that could be found on short notice.
“Miss Conrad?”
She turned toward the voice and spied a lovely dark-haired woman in a stylish crimson gown and matching garnet necklace walking toward her. “Yes. I am May Conrad.”
“I’m Stella Cassidy, Jeremiah’s sister.” She linked arms with May. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
May gave the woman a sideways look. “You do know why I’m here, don’t you?”
“Of course I do, but that doesn’t mean we cannot have some fun,” she said as she appeared to take note of May’s clothing. “You look lovely. It is a pity Jeremiah cannot see you right now. He will meet us later.”
May shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Cassidy, but I promised the detective I would not leave this house without him, and he told me I was to meet him in the library at seven.”
Her smile was radiant. “I do understand, but he will be along shortly, and in the meantime you are in my care. You will be with me at the home of an old family friend.” She paused. “But please, call me Stella. I insist.”
“All right, Stella,” she said with no small measure of misgiving as she followed the enigmatic young woman out to the courtyard where a carriage awaited. Stella allowed a footman to help her inside, and then May joined her.
“You’re certain Detective Bingham will be following shortly?” May asked as the footman closed the carriage door.
“Trust me,” she said with a grin as the carriage jerked forward. “He will.”
Not long after, the carriage rolled to a stop, and they descended in front of a lovely home with lamps lit in every window. May tried not to gape as Stella led the way past the reception area and into the ballroom where an orchestra was playing some sort of waltz.
Two massive chandeliers glinted with light, bathing the room with a golden glow. In the center of the room, elegantly dressed dancers twirled and spun in time to the music, while on the edges, people congregated in small groups to watch and converse.
“Stella,” a young woman said as she stepped into their path, “where is that brother of yours tonight?” She focused her attention on May. “And who is this?”
“Genevieve Montgomery, I am pleased to present Miss May Conrad. May, this is our hostess, Gennie Montgomery, an old family friend.” She smiled at the young woman. “As to my brother, Miss Conrad expects him any moment.”
“Do you now?” Miss Montgomery gave her a decidedly sour look. “Well, isn’t that fortunate of you?”
Uncertain how to respond, May merely smiled. A moment later, their hos
tess glided away on the arm of a young man who happened to be walking past.
“I’m so sorry,” Stella told her. “I should have warned you that Gennie is rather fond of my brother. If given the choice, she would have joined our family ages ago.” She leaned in and nodded toward a lanky young man surrounded by several admirers. “That is her brother Henry.”
The man in question turned and caught them staring. Rather than showing embarrassment, Stella beckoned him to join them. Of course, he did.
Once she had made the introductions, Stella tapped Henry on the arm. “Miss Conrad has not yet danced. Perhaps you can remedy the situation?”
“Oh no, really,” May protested. “I am not much of a dancer. Perhaps Stella will take my place.”
“I will do nothing of the sort,” Stella said. “Now go and have fun. I will watch for my brother.” She paused. “If that is what you were worried about.”
“Thank you. That would be a relief.” May allowed their host to lead her onto the dance floor. “I warn you,” she told him. “I cannot recall the last time I’ve danced. Won’t you reconsider?”
Rather than respond, Mr. Montgomery whisked her off into the throng of dancers. After a few halting steps, she managed to decipher the pattern of moves that made up the dance.
“You’re quite good at this,” he told her, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “What’s this I hear that you’re Jeremiah Bingham’s girl?”
She stopped short and nearly was tumbled by another couple dancing past. Falling back into step, May shook her head. “I am afraid you’ve heard wrong.”
“Don’t be shy, May,” a familiar voice said as Jeremiah stepped between her and Mr. Montgomery to take her by the arm. “It’s just that we’re not announcing yet. Good to see you again, Montgomery,” he said to their host. “Thank you for entertaining my fiancée in my absence. I’ll take over now.”
Detective Bingham swept her away before she could say a word. “Smile, Miss Conrad,” he whispered against her ear as he ushered her across the room, through a set of curtains that had been pulled to one side, and out onto a balcony. “This ruse of being affianced will work in our favor.”