Magnolia (22 page)

“He has relatives in Charleston who would hide him, help him get onto a ship and get clean away,” John added. “Claire's got a point. I think he'll run. His house should be watched.”

Matt grimaced. “I'd love to have a man watch it, but in a small community like this, all the neighbors know who belongs and who doesn't. A stranger would stick out like a sore thumb. He'd be spotted immediately, no matter how
careful he was. And while I can have a man watch the depot, I can't keep him there indefinitely.”

“Leave that to me,” Claire said, with a slow smile. “I think I know a way to keep Mr. Calverson's home under close scrutiny, and he'll never know.”

“What do you mean to do?” John asked her.

“Wait and see,” she told him.

CLAIRE CALLED ON EVERY SOCIETY MATRON SHE
knew and enlisted their aid. Fortunately it was one of the days set aside by Evelyn and her circle for being “at home” for visiting. Claire went first to Evelyn Paine's home.

Evelyn, fortunately alone, was tickled just at the thought of being a spy. “It's so exciting, Claire!” she exclaimed. “Imagine me, helping the Pinkertons!”

“Yes, but you mustn't let on to a soul!” Claire insisted.

“As if I would.” Evelyn scoffed. “Do you know where he is, and where he's got the money?”

“I haven't a clue,” Claire replied miserably. “But if it's a lot of money, and John said it's thousands of dollars, wouldn't it be bulky and hard to hide?”

“He might have it in a trunk,” Evelyn suggested.

“That would be very easy to search.”

“Surely,” she said. “But what if his wife's clothes were in it?”

Claire was taken aback. John had said that Diane pretended to know nothing of Calverson's plans, but was that true? Or was Diane only helping the man hide his ill-gotten gains? She might not go into hiding with him, but she might be willing to help him get away for a percentage of his profits. Had John considered that?

“What if they were?” Claire thought aloud. “And while everyone's watching Mr. Calverson to see if he runs, it's Diane who has the money!”

“Claire, what a devious thought.” Evelyn chuckled. “And a very good proposition, too. Now how do we get into Diane's trunks?”

“We may need a little help there,” Claire said thoughtfully, and cringed as she realized who the very best person for the job would be. After all, who would Diane trust more than John?

The thing she didn't know was whether or not John would be willing to do something so underhanded to the love of his life. It made her sad to realize that if Diane indeed did have the money hidden away in those trunks, it would destroy John's opinion of her. But the alternative was to do nothing and let the Calversons get away with grand theft—while letting John go to prison. It was a thought that gave Claire goose bumps. Somehow, she had to make John see reason.

But it was harder than ever to talk to him when they were back at the apartment together. She dressed for dinner, and then worried about what to say. And there were things she couldn't bring herself to tell him just yet She touched
the belt at her waist, which she'd had to let out two notches. It was only a suspicion, but it seemed a logical one, that she was going to have John's child. How would he react to that? Were his feelings for Diane so strong that it wouldn't matter, or would guilt cause him to give up Diane because of the impending child? She had no idea. She wasn't sure she wanted an answer to the worrisome question.

He came out of his own room, immaculate and solemn. His gaze slid over Claire, noting how radiant she looked even though she wasn't smiling. He'd missed her more than he'd dreamed he could.

“Thank you,” he said tersely.

“For what?”

“For making it possible for me to speak to my parents, among other things. I had thought never to see my father again in this life.”

“Habit sometimes keeps us on paths we deplore,” she said philosophically. “Your parents are wonderful people. They made me feel right at home. So did Emily and Jason.”

He moved forward and took her hands gently into his big, warm ones. “I was worried to death about you,” he confessed. “I lay awake nights, wondering if you were safe.” He chuckled softly. “And you were with my people all the time. I had no idea that you even knew where my parents lived.”

“You had told me they were in Savannah,” she reminded him. “But they are acquaintances of Evelyn Paine's, and she introduced us.”

“I see.” He shook his head. “You are a surprising woman.”

She searched his face, seeing new lines there. “I'm sorry to have left at such a bad time for you. I never dreamed that you would be accused of any shortfall at the bank,” she said gently. “You are the most honest man I have ever known.”

He smiled. “And you are the most honest woman I have ever known,” he said, returning the compliment.

“As for the charges, we shall certainly prove them false.”

“As I heard you telling the mob outside.” He shook his head, his eyes full of delight. “I was so proud of you. And not only then. I was proud of you for driving Chester through the flames to save me. Oh, Claire. The risk you took! I would never have permitted it if I had seen you in time.”

His concern made her heart race. He was acting very different since her return, as if he liked her more than ever. But she was afraid to hope. She hadn't forgotten his coldness to her at their wedding, or his indifference for the first few weeks they were together. Perhaps most of all, she hadn't forgotten that kiss she'd witnessed in the kitchen of this very house.

She pulled her hands away slowly. “Has Diane been to see you in jail? I don't suppose she could, with her husband accusing you in all the newspapers.”

He seemed saddened by her mention of the other woman. He made an odd movement with his shoulders. “Diane
would hardly want to be seen with me at such a time,” he said, and knew that it was the truth. Had Diane been free, she still would not have come near him. Certainly she wouldn't have defended him so bravely as Claire had against a potential lynch mob. “We have to look forward, you know,” he continued gently. “Diane is the past, Claire. You are the future.”

She wanted—oh, so badly—to believe him. But past events had made her wary. Her gray eyes lifted to his. “This is not the time to speak of the future, John,” she said solemnly. “So much depends on proving Mr. Calverson guilty.”

He let go of her hands. “Indeed.”

“His wife will surely know of his plans,” she said, without looking at him. “How sad that we don't have her confidence.”

He studied her for a moment—and it occurred to him that she was asking for his help, without actually putting it into words. She didn't trust him. Perhaps he could change her mind, show her that Diane no longer mattered. He moved away, considering possibilities.

 

T
WO DAYS PASSED, DURING
which John spent his time at the bank calming investors and reassuring coworkers; he and Claire passed their evenings at the hotel with his parents. The bank's customers seemed reassured by his continued presence there. Each morning, Eli Calverson sent his wife to open the bank's doors for him, making it obvious that he still didn't trust his vice president with the key. He was
seen at his home, but he didn't approach the bank. Diane was flirtatious toward John—and she made suggestive remarks that he simply ignored, puzzling her.

The Pinkerton man, Matt Davis, had compared the entries in the bank's ledgers with both Calverson's signature and a sample of John's handwriting. He and the other Pinkerton man assigned to the case had no difficulty pointing out that Calverson had made the entries, and proving it to the police. Thank God, he told John, for scientific method and its application to law enforcement.

“And thank God you were in town when I needed you.” John chuckled. “Chicago would be much too far away for you to work on a case like this.” John stuck his hands in his pockets and paced his office. “Well, we can prove that Calverson forged the entries, but the money is still missing. Unless we can produce it, and tie it to Eli, and find Dawes to testify…well, I'm in a bad situation.”

“Your wife's friends are busy watching the Calverson home. I've got men on the train depot. The only other way out of town is in a carriage or buggy, and I've got people watching at stables for those, too—in case he tries to get to another town to board a train bound for Charleston.”

“He'll have to try it eventually,” John said. “Accusing me is obviously a stopgap measure until he can get away. But what if he lets Diane take the money away for him? What if she goes out of town with trunks supposedly full of clothing?”

“There are ways to find out what's in the trunks,” Matt murmured dryly.

“I suppose so. But it might be easier if I went to see her myself.”

“Would she be likely to let you in the door, if she's involved in this?”

“We've no way of knowing until we try,” John reminded him. “She doesn't know that I suspect her.”

“All right. But be careful,” Matt cautioned. “Desperate men do desperate things.”

“You'd know.” John chuckled.

Matt didn't smile. His eyes were full of the past few years. His father had died at Little Bighorn. His mother had died at the Wounded Knee massacre, along with his young sisters. Matt himself had been badly wounded. The kindness of a white reservation doctor and his daughter's skilled nursing had spared Matt from life as a cripple. The doctor, afterward, had helped him to Chicago, to find work at the Pinkerton detective agency through a boyhood friend. The past few years had been fruitful ones for the tall detective.

He lived in Chicago, and his appearance continued to raise eyebrows and comments about his ancestry, but no one dared tease him about it. He had a temper as formidable as his mind was keen. John was proud to call him friend. Matt, like John, had been a loner. His only other friend had been an attorney from New York, a mysterious man named Dunn with blue eyes that intimidated even hardened veterans. Those had been good days, John thought. But he had the hope of an even better life with Claire, if only he could tie the broken threads of his life together.

 

J
OHN CALLED ON
D
IANE
that very afternoon. She seemed taken aback to see him. First she was welcoming, and then all at once, she seemed afraid.

“You shouldn't have come,” she said urgently, glancing around behind her. “John, this is not a good time for a social call.”

Despite her maneuvers, John glimpsed two trunks through the front door. Both were tagged and waiting at the foot of the staircase, with a valise. He pretended not to notice.

“I thought you wanted to see me,” he said softly.

She bit her lower lip. “I did. I do.” She looked up with a worried frown. “John, it's all so upsetting. I don't know what to do. There's so little that I can do now.” She put a hand on his chest. “Forgive me,” she said huskily, glancing over her shoulder. “I must go.”

“Shall I call again this evening?” he asked in a hushed tone, his eyes full of calculation that she was too upset to see.

Her whole face contorted. She seemed unusually pale. “No! I mean, no, John. Perhaps tomorrow evening. Yes. That would be very nice indeed. I'll have my sister come to play chaperon.” She lowered her voice and attempted to look coquettish. “Will that do, my dear?”

“That certainly will do,” he said, with forced tenderness. He touched her cheek. “I'm sorry for all the trouble you've had,” he said, lying. “Until later, Diane.”

“John?”

He turned.

“I understand that your father and mother have come from Savannah, and that Claire is with them,” she said. “I'm very sorry for all the trouble you've been subjected to. I hope—” she gnawed her lower lip “—I hope it will work out for you.” Her eyes fluttered up and then down again. “I know that you didn't steal from the bank.”

How sweetly concerned she seemed, when she was certainly buried in this foul matter up to her pretty neck. He didn't say a word. He only smiled, tipped his hat, and walked back down the sidewalk.

“Why didn't you get rid of him sooner?” the dirty little man Eli had hired raged as she closed the door. He came out of the parlor, wiping his sweaty brow. “What if he saw the trunks?”

“He couldn't have; I blocked the doorway,” she murmured. She glanced at him impatiently. “Now do get these things loaded and go.”

“You'll be on that train when it pulls out?” he asked.

The little man scared her. “Yes, Mr. O'Connor. I'll be on the train—just as I promised Eli I would. I'm not going to betray him now. I can't afford to,” she added in a miserable, frightened tone.

“See that you are. Or he might send me back.”

Eli had turned into a madman after the embezzlement came to light. Diane was actually afraid of him. John had wanted her once, but despite his tender tone today, it was painfully obvious that he no longer did. She'd seen John as the answer to her problems, but she'd lost him somehow. Now she had to do as Eli had demanded, even though her
heart wasn't in it. His plan was devious and shrewd. But those Pinkertons were shrewd, too. She only hoped the deception would spare them an arrest. Otherwise, she was certain to go to jail with her thieving husband, a prospect that honestly terrified her. Her beautiful dresses and expensive jewels had carried a price tag that she'd never expected to have to pay. Her family would be disgraced and she would be a fugitive, tarnished beyond polishing. She shivered at the very thought of where her greed had led her.

 

J
OHN GOT BACK INTO
his waiting carriage and directed the driver to go beside the house and around the block. He had a sneaking feeling that Eli was about to make a run for it. Sure enough, he spotted a freight wagon parked just behind the Calverson home. Even as he watched, a man came out the back door with one trunk on his shoulder. He put the trunk on the wagon where the valise stood, went back for the second trunk, loaded that on, and climbed up behind the horses. So
that
was how Eli planned to get out of town, was it! Not as a passenger at all, but as freight. He was probably under one of those sacks in the back of the wagon and planned to hide himself inside one of the trunks. How very ingenious! And Diane herself had given away his travel plans. He was going today. Right now. No doubt he was on his way to the depot. How could John move fast enough in a carriage to intercept him?