Escapade (9781301744510) (31 page)

Stepping out, she peered through an open door
into an office full of desks and men in their shirtsleeves. Most of
them were crowded round some fast-talking salesman demonstrating
the latest in typewriter machines. She eyed the cluster of male
faces dubiously, wondering which one it was she sought. But when
she mentioned Duffy's name, she was directed to a desk in the far
corner.

Behind it sat a young man sporting a
startling shock of red hair and a blot of ink on his nose.
Oblivious to the salesman's chatter, he scribbled away with an
intense concentration. William Duffy's desk was a disaster of
scattered papers and partially clipped newsprint. If he did have
any evidence useful to Zeke, Rory wondered how they would ever
unearth it from the chaos.

She hovered, waiting for Duffy to look up,
but it occurred to her that she might drop dead on the floor beside
him without his noticing.

She cleared her throat. "Mr. Duffy?"

He glanced up, obviously impatient of any
interruption. His annoyance faded to surprise, his gaze raking over
her. A puzzled frown settled on his brow. Rory had a sudden notion
of how odd she must look in the faded sack of a dress, her hair a
wild tangle.

She smoothed it self-consciously. "I realize
you don't know me, Mr. Duffy. But I need a moment of your time. My
name is Aurora Kavanaugh. I have something of vital importance to
discuss with you, about a story you wrote two days ago—"

She got no further for she realized he wasn't
listening to her. He stroked his chin, musing, "Kavanaugh? Now
where have I heard that name before?"

His face lighting with recognition, he came
up out of his chair. "Say, I remember now. You are that girl with
the runaway balloon from the circus, aren't you? I did the piece
about you crashing onto Morrison's lawn."

Rory tried to begin again. "That's why I am
here, to talk to you about-."

"Look, Miss Kavanaugh, if you are here to
complain about the article, if your name got spelled wrong or
anything, I'm sorry. I'm always careful. It's the copy editors that
mess everything up."

"Will you please just listen to me?" Rory
exclaimed. "This has nothing to do with the article you wrote about
me. I am here to discuss the more recent story you did on Mr.
Morrison."

Duffy perched on the edge of his desk,
heedless of the stack of papers that cascaded to the floor, He
scowled. "Yeah, poor Morrison. He's in the deuce of a fix. I wish
it had been anyone but him. A little mule-headed, but I rather like
the fellow."

Rory was unable to restrain her indignation.
"Then why did you write such terrible lies about him?"

Duffy looked taken aback. "Why, it was all
true, though I wish it wasn't." He puffed out his chest a little.
"I assure you William Michael Duffy always makes sure of his facts.
My information came from an unimpeachable source."

"Indeed? Someone straightforward and honest
like Sergeant O'Connell from the warehouse precinct?"

"That grafter? Lord no, it was-.” He
hesitated, wariness coming into his eyes. "What's your interest in
all this?"

"I am interested because I know the truth.
Even as your story appeared on the streets, Zeke Morrison was
waking up to find himself a prisoner in a brothel and Mr. Addison
dead by someone else's hand. And that night when Zeke was supposed
to be off, committing the murder, he couldn't have been. He was
with me."

That was stretching the truth a bit perhaps,
but Zeke's case was urgent. Duffy let out a long, low whistle.

"So the wind sits in that quarter, does it?"
He subjected her to another appraising stare which caused the heat
to flare into her cheeks. "Morrison must have been quick to take
the advantage when you dropped out of the skies into his lap. Can't
say as I blame him."

"My relationship with Mr. Morrison is not
important. What matters is that someone fed you that story on
purpose to help implicate Mr. Morrison in a crime he didn't commit.
You have been made a fool of, Mr. Duffy."

Duffy folded his arms over his chest. "How
can I believe you? You'll excuse me for saying so, but my other
source is a little more respectable."

"Perhaps it would help if I told you I know
who your other source is—an alderman named Charles Decker."

Duffy was too cautious to confirm or deny her
guess. "You seem to know an awful lot, lady." His eyes narrowed.
"Maybe you also know where Morrison is hiding."

It was Rory's turn to be uneasy. She had come
here for the express purpose of leading Duffy back to Zeke, but now
she wasn't so sure it was a good idea. The man claimed he liked
Zeke, but he was a reporter for all that. Zeke's capture would make
excellent front-page copy.

Duffy regarded Rory more hungrily than Tony
when he was half-starving and presented with a bowl of his mother's
pasta. She was thinking of retreating when he came off the desk,
pressing closer. "What did you really come up here for, Miss
Kavanaugh? I don't think it was just to yell at me because you
didn't like the piece I wrote about Morrison."

"No. I hoped that you could help him somehow,
that if you knew the story wasn't true, you would want to make it
right."

"So I would. I don't like making mistakes on
my facts. A thing like that could ruin a fellow's reputation. But I
need a little more convincing, perhaps to talk to Morrison himself.
It was him who sent you, wasn't it? Why don't you take me to
him?"

That was exactly what Zeke desired, but Rory
hesitated. "I am not sure I should trust you, Mr. Duffy."

Duffy reached for his jacket, pulling it on.
"With Morrison in this much trouble, you haven't got much choice.
Besides, whether I believe you or not, I'm a reporter, not a
policeman. I write stories. I don't try to apprehend desperate men,
especially not ones with knuckles the size of Morrison's."

Rory gave a reluctant laugh. She found
something likable about Bill Duffy, even if he was the author of
that dreadful article on Zeke. She had only her instinct to go on,
telling her to trust him, but it had to be enough, for Duffy was
right in one respect. She didn't have much choice. Even if she had
changed her mind about taking Duffy to Zeke, she sensed the man
would trail her like a bloodhound all over New York.

Returning to the park, Rory noted anxiously
that she had been gone longer than she had promised. The sun had
dipped lower behind the trees. As it drew closer to the dinner
hour, the walkways were nearly deserted. She saw no sign of Zeke.
With a thud of her heart, Rory feared that he had gone off to do
something rash.

She sighed with relief when she spied him
sitting on a park bench, his legs sprawled across the path, a
section of newspaper covering his face as though to shield his
eyes.

It occurred to Rory he might be asleep, and
her relief changed to indignation, appalled that he could be quite
that careless when every policeman in New York must be on the
lookout for him.

Yet she supposed that she had not exactly
given the man the most restful repose the night before. Rory
approached Zeke cautiously, Duffy hard on her heels.

Despite how low she called Zeke's name, it
was impossible not to startle him. He jerked awake, springing to
his feet, fists drawn back. When he realized it was Rory, he
expelled his breath in a long sigh. He lowered his arm, adjusting
the brim of the battered felt hat, which had nearly flown off.

He smiled even as he complained, "About time
you got back here. I was ready to—" His smile vanished when he saw
Duffy at her shoulder.

"Hello, Morrison," Duffy said. "I like the
hat."

Zeke's hands balled into fists. To Rory's
dismay, he took a menacing step forward. Luckily, Duffy understood
the better part of valor. He ducked behind Rory, using her skirts
as a shield.

"Take it easy, Morrison. You wouldn't want to
be arrested for two murders."

"Why not? They can only hang me once."

"Zeke!" Rory positioned herself firmly in his
path, splaying her hands against his chest. "Mr. Duffy seems to
have been as much a victim as you. He believed that story was
true."

"Maybe I should teach him to check his
facts."

Duffy peered round her. "I haven't seen
anything in your behavior yet to convince me I made a mistake."

With such a beginning, it was all she could
do to get the two men to sit back down on the bench and talk. When
they did, she positioned herself as a buffer between them.

Although still glaring at Duffy, Zeke was
persuaded to tell his entire story, from Decker's threats to
O'Connell's attempt to shoot him in cold blood to the escape in the
balloon.

"The balloon. That's the first I heard of
that." Duffy gave an ecstatic sigh. "What a story! I hope it's all
true. With a tale like that the editor would give me the whole
front page. Those smart-mouthed reporters from the Times would be
green." As another thought appeared to strike him, Duffy looked
more subdued. "That is if I still have a job. Lord, Morrison, you
wouldn't sue the paper, would you, over one little mistake?"

"No, I'd be more likely to bust up your
printing press."

Duffy brightened. "Oh, that'd be all right,
but my editor hates lawsuits."

Rory tapped her foot, growing impatient with
the pair of them. "Before we worry about breaking presses or
writing new stories, we need to deal with the problem that Mr.
Morrison is still wanted for murder. Mr. Duffy, in a court of law,
would you be willing to reveal the name of the man who gave you the
false information?"

"Court of law, hell," Zeke said. "All Duffy
needs to do is assure me it was Decker, and I'll take care of the
rest."

Rory exchanged a glance with Duffy. He
apparently understood her unspoken plea, for he hedged. "Well, the
matter seems more complicated than that. There could be someone
else besides Decker involved. That friend of yours, Addison, was
doing extensive investigating, wasn't he? He implied he had
uncovered more than one villain. It might be better, Morrison, if
you kept a low profile and let me do a little nosing around."

Rory's heart sank as she saw that Zeke was
not about to agree to that. Being inactive for this long had chafed
him raw. Another argument ensued, but this time she had Duffy on
her side.

"At least let me drop by police
headquarters," Duffy said. "I have a few contacts there. I can see
how their investigation is going, find out whether your place is
guarded, if it's safe for you to return home."

When Zeke shook his head, Duffy continued to
plead. "Aw, what's a few more hours? Look, I'll lend you a few
dollars and—" He paused to grin. "I never thought the day would
come that I would lend money to anyone, let alone the richest man
in New York. Anyhow, you could nip off to some quiet restaurant and
feed your girl here."

Zeke stiffened. "She's not my girl. She's my
fiancée."

Rory nearly choked at that. As usual Zeke was
rushing over her with the force of a gale wind. But she had no
chance to protest in the face of Duffy's delighted
exclamations.

"Another story! I can see the headlines.
Tycoon Weds Balloon Girl. They'll have to give me a special
edition." He looked as though he were about to die and cross the
threshold of heaven. "Just remember, Morrison, when this is all
over, you owe me. The entire tale of your life, starting with day
one, where you were born, who your parents were—"

"I don't owe you anything except a punch in
the nose." Zeke felt ready to deliver it. But his gaze went to
Rory's face, her eyes clouded with an anxiety that hadn't been
there when Zeke had first met her. She shouldn't have been that
pale. Maybe there was some wisdom in letting Duffy pursue a few
inquiries.

“All right. Give me the money and get the
hell out of here."

Duffy turned out his pockets and managed to
come up with a dollar. Folding it into his fist, Zeke was filled
with a wry amusement, remembering the night he had taken Rory out
to dine at Delmonico's. He had tipped the waiter more than
that.

While Duffy disappeared on his mission, Zeke
discovered the dollar was enough to purchase ham sandwiches and
coffee from a little deli. Afterward, he and Rory returned to the
park and lingered on one of the benches, watching the sun set over
the rotunda at City Hall.

There was little talk between them. Rory was
too tired. Zeke draped his arm about her, nestling her head against
his shoulder. Perhaps it was foolish to hang about out in the open
so much, but he didn't see much sign of an extensive police search
for him. The city was a big place, the locale of many crimes. Maybe
the murder of Addison had already passed into insignificance.

Zeke couldn't let that happen. He owed the
man more than that. Maybe even the punishment of Decker would not
be enough. So what could he do? Erect a statue to Addison's memory?
The park was already full of them, just more places for pigeons to
roost.

Yet until he settled this matter, there would
be no future with Rory. He could tell he had startled her earlier,
maybe even displeased her, when he had told Duffy she was his
fiancee.

Although she didn't contradict him, he knew
she hadn't really said yes. He was trying not to rush her, but it
had been hard to hear Duffy refer to her in that disrespectful
way.

He supposed it was odd, even inconsistent of
him, considering that at one time he had proposed to make her his
mistress. But he hadn't known he was in love with her then.

Love- the word itself was enough to scare the
hell out of Zeke. Yet he could put no other name to the feeling in
his heart as he gazed down at her.

He desired her, yes, an undercurrent of that
was ever present. But another emotion settled deeper inside him in
what he guessed must be his soul. He had never been sure he had one
until he met Rory.