Birdie's Nest

by Linda LaRoque

  “Men went over it twice.”

  That may be, but Birdie was better trained to look for minute details. She withdrew a magnifying glass from a pocket and bent to look closely at every blade of grass and underneath it as well. Her first find was a cigarette butt. Using tweezers, she lifted it from the ground, blew off bits of dirt and debris, and then sniffed it to determine how old it might be. “It still has an odor so it’s probably not too old. Odd, it doesn’t look like one of those roll your own type.”

  Ethan looked at it closely. “It’s not. I bet it’s a packaged smoke—Duke of Durham brand.”

  Birdie didn’t know they’d had packaged cigarettes in the 1890s. Of course there was a lot she didn’t know about the period. “Did you bring some envelopes?”

  He pulled one from his pocket, held it open for her, and she dropped the butt inside. “I don’t suppose you have finger printing capabilities yet.”

  “We’ve read about it, but only one man in the department has given it a try. Name is James Reed. Spends a lot of time in a little cubicle he’s confiscated for his experiments. He’s used most of the force as guinea pigs. We walked around for days with ink-stained fingers.”

  “I’d like to get with him and see if we can develop a system that will work.” She knew cellophane tape hadn’t been invented yet so coming up with a way to get prints off an object onto paper where they could be studied would be vital.

  Birdie continued her search and found only one other thing—a button. Excited to have more evidence, she held it up for Ethan to see. “What do you think it came from?”

  “A man’s suit coat most likely. From the looks of it, a nice one. It didn’t come from one of the department stores. I’d bet it is tailor made.” He filed away the two pieces of evidence in his jacket pocket and helped her up. “Here comes Jones. I don’t want you talking to him, so you go ahead to the horses. I’ll meet you there.”

  Birdie did her best to execute a manly stride as she headed for the horses. At least she wasn’t tottering in high heels on gravel. She was anxious to get back to the station and go over the victim’s clothes.

  By lunch, she’d collected several fibers from Miss Sanders dress. The garment reminded Birdie of the one she’d worn to serve the subpoena. Red satin, trimmed in black, this one was longer, fuller, and decorated with feathers. Who’s to say if the pieces of evidence she found came from the man who’d attacked her, or from one of her customers? One piece was interesting, though—a gray thread, an almost identical match to the color of the button.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Birdie stood at the counter of Goldstein-Migel Co. A young clerk rushed over. “May I be of assistance, ma’am?”

  “Why yes. I’m shopping for my bedridden aunt. She wants a new cologne for her husband and sent me to collect samples.” She pointed at a non-descript bottle behind him. “Can I smell that one?”

  “Yes, indeed. It’s our newest addition to our exclusive line of imported products. We carry scents designed for both men and women.” He leaned in and whispered, “We don’t handle those cheap brands, if you know what I mean.”

  “Indeed, I do.” He tilted the bottle, removed the lid, and dabbed a bit on one of the business cards lying on a glass tray. After waving it in the air for a moment, he handed it to Birdie. “It is Penhaligon’s English Fern, just in from England—a hint of clove, lavender, and fern—earthy.”

  Birdie waved the card under her nose, testing its strength. It was clean and refreshing, not over powering. “Nice. I like this very much. Will you write the name on the back of the card so I won’t get them confused?”

  He wrote the name and then tapped the card with his pencil. “I added my name so when you come back you can ask for me.”

  She fluttered her lashes and smiled like a giddy schoolgirl. Gad, she hated this flirtatious stuff. “Of course. I’ll be sure to do that.” She slipped the sample into a clean envelope in her bag to help preserve the smell until Miss Sanders could smell it.

  “Now, let me show you one other new item.” He set another plain bottle on the counter but this one had a gold lid. “This one is also from London. Some find it a bit sweet, but it still has that tart, clean scent.” He slid another card forward and wrote on it before adding a dab of the cologne.

  Birdie took a whiff and jerked back. “A bit sweet for my tastes but my aunt may like it.” The card found its way into another envelope. “I thank you so much for your time. I’ll see what Aunt thinks and get back to you.” She turned and walked toward the exit, the heels of her shoes loud against the wooden floors.

  She entered the hospital in her regular clothes. Nothing wrong with visiting a patient and no one had to know who she was. Lila, still as a statue, sat in a chair by the window. The breeze ruffled tufts of her hair around her face. Birdie tapped on the door. Lila jerked and turned toward her. A smile that didn’t reach her eyes angled the corners of her mouth.

  “Hello, Birdie. Come in.”

  Birdie pulled the other chair across the room and sat down facing the woman. She pulled one envelope from her bag, sniffed the contents to make sure the scent was still strong, and then handed it to Lila. Eyes locked on the sample, she took a deep breath, and then took it from Birdie’s hand. She lifted it to her nose, took a tentative sniff, and then smelled it again.

  Lila’s gaze connected with Birdie’s, and then she shook her head. “No, this isn’t it.” She handed the sample back to Birdie.

  They repeated the same process with the second sample with the same results. “These are light. His was heavy, woodsier.”

  Birdie leaned over and patted the woman’s hands. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep looking. I’ll be back about the same time tomorrow with a couple more samples. We will catch this man, Lila.”

  The girl brushed a tear from her face. “I’m going home tonight. Doc says I’m well enough, and Miss Josie says I can stay until my scars heal.” Lila’s eyes dropped to her lap. “She’ll put me to cleaning or helping in the kitchen until then.”

  “Well then, how about if I meet you around the same time tomorrow afternoon in the gazebo?” Birdie got up and headed for the door. She stopped and turned back. “Don’t mention anything to anybody, even Miss Josie, about the cologne or the scratch you put on the man’s face. For all we know, he could be a regular customer at the house.”

  Lila’s eyes rounded with fear. Bottom lip caught in her teeth, she nodded.

  Darn it. To visit the Reservation, Birdie would have to wear that darn wool suit.

  * * *

  Tad strode into the warehouse where Birdie was teaching class. The day was warm so the bay doors were open to allow for a breeze. At the sight of him, all the ladies stopped what they were doing. Mattie turned around and fisted her hands on her hips. “We do not allow men in here.” From the tone of her voice, she’d dealt with unwanted visitors before.

  “Sorry, Mattie. I just stopped by to talk to Birdie.”

  She shaded her eyes against the sunlight behind him. “Is that you, Tad Lockhart?”

  He yanked his hat off his head. “Yes, ma’am. I came to see Birdie.” He looked around, his eyes searching the darkened corners of the large space. “Isn’t she here?”

  “Well, uh, no. She had some errands to run today, so I took over the class.”

  That’s odd. She was totally dedicated to teaching these women self-defense. Why would she turn it over to Mattie? “Is that so? Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, I’m sorry, she didn’t.”

  Darn. He’d wanted a chance to take her for a ride along the river and had brought the surrey. His attempts at courting were failing. “I have some business to tend to at the bank. I’ll stop back by in a while. Aren’t classes over soon?”

  “Yes, in thirty minutes, but I’m not sure if Birdie planned to come back by here before heading home.”

  Outside, he slammed his hat on his head and got into the buggy. What kind of errands could she have? He stopped by the bank and ma
de a deposit. A niggling in his brain drove him to drive by the jail. No, he wasn’t jealous, just curious to see if Birdie was spending time with the detective. Tad had no claims on her, but if she favored the man, Tad intended to step up his suit. He wasn’t about to let Birdie get away from him.

  In the rear of the jail building, Tad saw Detective Ethan and another officer ride into the stable. He pulled the surrey to a halt, threw on the brake, and hopped down. The two walked out of the building, heads together in some discussion. When they noticed him, both stopped mid-stride, and gaped. Ethan quickly recovered. Now, what was that all about? “Ethan, you got a minute?”

  “Sure do.” He spoke to the policeman. “You go on in and start writing up a report, Jenkins. I’ll be in shortly.”

  Jenkins mumbled something like, “On it, sir.” Then he shuffled toward the main building at a leisurely gait.

  Something was sure odd about the fellow. Tad had never seen a man walk quite like that before. He hitched his pants up and kept going. Danged if his hips didn’t sway. He chuckled and shook his head. “Is he a new recruit?”

  “Yep, took him out in the field today.” He scratched his chin. “I know he’s rather peculiar, but he’s smart as a whip. Just what we need with the case we’re trying to solve right now.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Haven’t you read the papers?”

  “No, not in the last week. I’ve been too busy and by the time I get a chance to take a look, Ma has already wrapped food in it to take to someone.”

  “Some mad man is attacking the doves over on the Reservation, cutting them up pretty bad.” He lifted a hand to his face and made an X across each cheek. He shuddered. “The one from last night was also cut across her breasts and down her belly.”

  Tad knew crime occurred in the Reservation area, but it usually involved men getting drunk and fighting. Occasionally someone was killed, but nothing like what Ethan described as the madams ran a tight operation and kept their girls in line. Each of the bigger houses had their own security guards—more like well-armed ruffians—to make sure patrons behaved. If they didn’t, they were tossed out, some taking a beating first. “Are they still alive?”

  “Oh yes, but they’ll be scarred for life and have to find another way to make a living. Poor souls, their bodies battered black and blue and then disfigured for life.”

  Tad’s stomach roiled. Who could do such a thing? Prostitution was a terrible way to live, but most of those women didn’t choose their profession. They were forced into it. “Sounds like someone is on a vendetta. You think he’s trying to close the Reservation down?”

  “If so, he’s going about it the wrong way.” Ethan’s mouth thinned. “We’re going to get him, Lockhart. We’ve got some good evidence, but need to do more investigative work yet.” He grinned. “That’s where my partner comes in. He’s well trained in evidence collection. And by golly, he found something at each scene that we’d overlooked.”

  “That’s what Birdie said about her training in the Texas Rangers, isn’t it?”

  Ethan hesitated. “I believe you’re right.”

  “Have you happened to see her today?”

  “No, why do you ask?”

  “I know that you took her for a ride down by the river last week. Thought you might be making it a habit to go by her school.” Tad watched the man for his reaction. “Are you courting her, Ethan?”

  Color suffused Ethan’s face. He coughed. “Now, I admit I’m interested, but look Lockhart, she’s not interested in me.”

  Tad rocked back on his heels. “Good, because I don’t want any competition.”

  “I can’t speak for the rest of the male population of Waco, but you have nothing to fear from me.” He offered his hand. “I wish you luck.”

  Tad couldn’t resist a grin as he grasped the detective’s hand. “Thank you, I’ll probably need it.

  * * *

  Birdie quickly changed clothes and watched until Tad drove off in the surrey. Wonder what he was doing coming over to talk to Detective Ethan. Surely he didn’t suspect what she was up to. If so, he wouldn’t be a happy man. Women of this era didn’t involve themselves in police work, especially gruesome crimes like they were dealing with. This last woman, younger than Lila, was hysterical. Doctor Franks had to keep her sedated. No wonder. Seems the cuts on the face wasn’t enough this time. He cut her across the breasts with another line down to her belly. Being cut like she’d been would be enough to send a woman, or a man for that matter, over the edge.

  Crosses. Suddenly it dawned on her. Those weren’t X’s on Lila’s cheeks they were crosses. He’d made sure on the second victim they didn’t mistake the cuts for anything else. He was proclaiming that the women on the Reservation were sinners and should carry a mark of their shame, sort of like a scarlet letter. Pervert. Why couldn’t he wage his war in the open? Get a petition to have the city close the place down?

  They’d found an additional cigarette butt at the crime scene, and on her clothes Birdie found another gray fiber and a bit of hair not belonging to the prostitute. Ethan had watched Birdie’s techniques closely and learned fast. Not to say detectives in this era didn’t know how to collect evidence, as they did, but she’d taught him a few tricks used by modern science. Today he’d found a small piece of wadded up paper less than an inch square. It had been stepped on and bore a lot of dirt, but a small portion of print was visible. Hopefully it would give them another lead.

  Evidently this woman had fought back. Her knuckles were bruised, her nails broken and bloody. Their man, the perpetrator, surely wore multiple scratches. Birdie was anxious to talk to the girl and hear what she had to offer.

  Lloyd held Molly for her while she mounted. “What did Tad want?”

  “He wanted to know if I was courting you.”

  She rolled her eyes, a habit Aunt Patty hated. “What’d you tell him?”

  He cocked his head. “That I was interested, but you weren’t.”

  Why couldn’t she be attracted to him? He was such a nice man. “I’m sorry, Lloyd.”

  “Don’t be. We don’t always have control over where our hearts lead us.”

  She smiled. “You sound like a poet.”

  “Good grief!” He glanced around. “Don’t let anyone hear you say something like that. I’ll be the laughing stock of the department.” With a slap to Molly’s flank, he hollered, “See you tomorrow.”

  Birdie kept Molly at a steady trot. She could see Tad ahead. Occasionally someone would greet him and he’d wave. She stayed a safe distance behind and watched as he started across the suspension bridge. The toll keeper’s cottage sat empty. The county had bought the bridge and sold it to the city in 1889. Her interest piqued when he turned onto the road on the far side that ran parallel to the river, the one where her home would stand in the future. She eased Molly into a gallop and rode up beside Tad.

  “Where are you headed?”

  He glanced her way, and then pulled the surrey to the side of the road and stopped. “If you’d been where you were supposed to be, you’d know.”

  “Humph. Well, I can’t stay at your beck and call. I have things to do.”

  “Do you have time to take a ride with me down River Street?”

  How could she refuse the boyish grin stretching his face? Plus, she wanted to see the land where Birdie’s Nest had been—would be—built. Time travel made for odd tenses. “Will your mother be worried if we’re late?”

  “I told her where we’d be. She’ll hold supper for us.”

  He set the brake while she dismounted and tied Molly to the back of the buggy. He held her arm as she stepped aboard and settled into the seat. She could get used to all this gentlemanly stuff. Women had it made back in the day. Wait, she’d open her own doors if she didn’t have to wear this corset. At least the one she wore today laced up the front and wasn't near as tight as when Olivia fastened her up.

  The surrey rocked gently when Tad climbed aboard. He was dressed in
a suit today. “What are you doing all dressed up?”

  “Had business at the bank.” He winked. “Then, I planned to go courtin’.”

  “What kept you from it?”

  “My girl was absent from her place of business.”

  Uh-oh. He’d gone by the school. “What time were you there?”

  “About thirty minutes before closing time. Looks like Mattie can handle the class without you.”

  “Yes, she’s very good and the girls like her.” He still hadn’t set the horse in motion. “Are we going to sit here, or go for a ride?” Actually a light breeze blew in from the water and it was growing chilly.

  “And by the way, I’m not your girl.”

  “Oh yes you are, sweetheart.” His heated expression warmed her insides and she wanted to give in to her attraction for him, but she had a goal.

  His gaze landed on her mouth. He cocked his head and peered closer. Was he going to kiss her?

  “What’s that on your lip?” With a finger, he tried to wipe it off. “It feels like glue.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Yikes! Birdie turned her head and peeled the little tab of glue off her upper lip. She wiped it on her dress and would be sure to clean it up later. She turned back to Tad and let her tongue feel for any residue. “Mm, sugar from that bun I had with my lunch.” Lord, forgive me for lying.

  Tad’s attention followed her actions. She squirmed under his perusal. Mischief gleamed in those blue eyes of his. “Sugar, huh?” He put his arm around her shoulders and brought her face closer to his. “I love sugar.”

  Birdie melted under his gaze, the warmth of his voice washing over her like hot icing oozing over a cake.

  “I long for the taste of your lips. Meet me half way, love.” His eyelids lowered, his breath touched her mouth drawing her closer as if his inhaled breath drew her in.

  Unable to resist the draw, she closed her eyes and touched her lips to his. She slipped her arms around his waist and reveled in the masculine strength of the muscles in his back. He groaned into her mouth and pulled her closer, her breasts flattening against his chest, as he took possession of her mouth, tasting and molding her lips to his liking. And oh, she liked. She opened for him and he explored, twining his tongue with hers and inviting her to taste him.