Sadie's Secret: 3 (The Secret Lives of Will Tucker) (43 page)

C
aptain Tucker was every bit as charming as his son, and also every bit as good a navigator as he claimed to be. The vessel arrived in the Gulf of Mexico ahead of schedule and skirted the coastline past Mobile without stopping.

“No visit to your mother this time around?” Jefferson asked his father as they sat together in the large captain’s suite that had become their living area during the voyage.

“You know she wouldn’t allow a quick visit. I figure I’ll appease her by spending a few weeks there once I’ve deposited you and the girl in Newport.”

The conversation continued, father and son chatting easily as the day fell toward dusk outside. Though Sadie pretended interest in the novel in her hands, her attention refused to be caught by the words on the page. Finally, she gave up and set the book aside, allowing her gaze to travel the length of the salon.

While her accommodations were luxurious by maritime standards, the expansive room that was Captain Tucker’s private domain made hers look like the maid’s quarters. From the paneled walls to furniture that would have looked just fine in Mama’s fanciest reception room, the space was much more than merely a place for the Tuckers to keep out of the glaring May sunshine.

Jefferson had appropriated the captain’s desk, and it was now covered in handwritten pages and pieces of evidence he had collected prior to his imprisonment. As yet, Sadie had not decided whether to offer her own notes to compare with his. Still, she eyed the pages with interest anytime she managed to come near them.

“You still do not trust me?” Jefferson said when he noticed her peering over in the direction of the desk.

“Let the girl be,” Captain Tucker said as he headed out of the cabin. “I’d say she has good instincts. A woman cannot fully trust a man she does not know. Rather, ask yourself ‘How well does she know me?’ ”

She gave the older Tucker a grateful smile as he disappeared into the corridor, leaving them alone. Jefferson crossed the salon to settle in a Louis IV chair nearby.

The sea breeze had tousled his hair, while the sun had bronzed his skin. Were she not absolutely certain that Jefferson Tucker was a British detective to his core, she might suspect he took well to life at sea.

“Is he right?”

“About not trusting you?” Sadie shrugged. “Not completely.”

“If you do not completely trust me, then you don’t trust me at all.” He rose to move to the desk. “Come take a look at this.”

She thought only a moment before joining him. Jefferson arranged the pages before her and then nodded.

“Go ahead. See what you think.”

Settling into the captain’s chair, she picked up the first page she saw and began to read. The document was an account of a merchant vessel captain who had taken possession of several crates from a shipper in Baghdad and delivered them to London.

Among the items on the manifest, most of which were Iraqi in origin, was an Egyptian feline casket that appeared similar in description to the one Sadie had examined in Monsieur Valletta’s shop. Jefferson nodded to another page.

“The amulet,” he said. “Would it be similar to any of those mentioned in this list?”

“Yes, this one.” She pointed to a note in the ledger that referred to a carnelian amulet in the form of a seated figure of Harpocrates.

“You’re certain it is the same one?”

“Of course I’m not certain, Jefferson,” she said as she pushed the manifest away and looked up at him. “But it could be.”

He slid the pages back in her direction. “Take another look and see if anything else seems familiar.”

Her gaze landed on a pottery funerary cone and a limestone canopic jar. She pointed both out.

“What else did you see in Valletta’s apartment? Think, Sadie.”

“I
am
thinking,” she snapped before letting out a long breath. “All right. There were boxes and crates very much like the one I…” Sadie looked up at him. “The parcel that was delivered for you. Did you open it?”

“I forgot all about it. I’ll get it.”

He headed off down the passageway, leaving Sadie alone. She rose to wander to the porthole, where the last rays of sunlight flooded the cabin. Ahead, a lighthouse stood high above a thick cluster of buildings, the beam from its lamp teasing waves with a dance of brilliant light.

“Good news, son. We’re dining with Joe Porter tomorrow. You remember him, don’t you? Oh…”

Sadie turned to see Jefferson’s father standing in the doorway. “He’s just gone to his cabin to retrieve something. I’m sure he’ll be back in a minute.”

Captain Tucker smiled. “That’s just as well. I’ve wanted a moment alone with you.”

The floor rumbled beneath her feet, causing Sadie to steady herself against the wall. “Oh?”

“You’ll get your sea legs soon enough, Miss Callum.” He nodded toward the chair she had only just vacated. “You may want to sit while we’re passing by the reef, though. It’s a bit choppy out here.”

She complied and then watched as Captain Tucker joined her. “Enjoying yourself so far?”

His voice was as deep as Jefferson’s, with more of the Southern tones she was accustomed to. His eyes were a deep blue, a shade darker than his son’s.

“I am, actually. Most of my travel is by train anymore. I haven’t taken a sea voyage since…” She almost said since she became a Pinkerton agent. Instead, she added, “Since the last time I traveled to Europe.”

“How do you know my Jefferson?”

The change of topic caught her off guard. “He hasn’t told you?”

“He has, but I’m not sure I believe him.”

“I suppose the simplest answer is that I first knew John, and then, when my employer called upon me to decide which of the Tuckers was being held in Angola Prison, I came to know Jefferson.”

“Your employer,” he echoed. “That would be who?”

“The Pinkerton Agency.” She watched him nod. “Was that not what Jefferson told you?”

“Oh, he did say that, but I found it difficult to believe that a woman of your beauty and obvious intelligence would be employed at all. I rather thought he was playing a joke on me or perhaps making an attempt to steal away with a pretty lady.”

“I assure you neither is the case.”

“I understand. I had a moment to converse with your father whilst my boy was breaking the news to you of your travel plans. Nice fellow, Callum.”

She easily offered a warm smile. “Yes, I rather like him.”

“As to your being an agent?” He waved away any protest she might have made with a sweep of his hand. “Don’t misunderstand me. I have nothing but the utmost respect for the Pinkerton Agency, their stance during the War Between the States notwithstanding.”

“He’s not telling you how women should be waiting at home while the men go off to work, is he?”

Sadie smiled as she glanced over at Jefferson, who now held the parcel in one hand. “Not exactly.”

“Not at all,” Captain Tucker said to his son. “My point was completely misunderstood. It’s just that you are so lovely and delicate, my dear,” he said, his focus now on Sadie. “I cannot imagine you would find it interesting at all to work in a man’s field.”

“Yes, Dad, that is so much better than just telling her she ought to be home awaiting the return of a husband.” Jefferson shook his head. “Any doubts of Sadie’s abilities were gone when she dispatched a snake at close range. In the dark.”

“I will ignore your sarcasm, Jefferson. And I will not ask why the two of you were within range of a snake after dark.” He watched as his son joined them. “Instead, I will ask what you have there.”

“A package delivered to Callum Plantation with my name on it.”

Jefferson turned the parcel over and studied it carefully. Then he removed his folding knife to cut away the paper, revealing what appeared to be the back of a small painting. Tossing aside the remainder of the wrappings, he turned the painting over.

“The Durer,” Sadie said with a gasp. “Jefferson, that is the painting I saw at Monsieur Valletta’s shop.”

He met her gaze. “You’re certain?”

“You’re going to ask that again?”

“Sorry,” he was quick to say. “I merely meant to inquire as to whether you were certain this was the exact same painting.”

She thought back to the stacks of parcels all wrapped in the same paper. Her mind recalled the crates piled randomly around the apartment and situated here and there in the shop below.

“It is possible there are many copies of the same painting, but yes, I saw this exact one unwrapped and stacked on a shelf in his armoire.”

“Well, then,” Captain Tucker said as he rose. “It appears the two of you have a right and proper mystery to solve, so I will leave you to it. Just so you’re aware, we will be making a stop in Key West. Joe Porter’s invited us to dine tomorrow, and I accepted on your behalf.”

“Wait, that’s not possible,” Jefferson said. “Sadie and I need to get to Newport as soon as possible.”

“And you will. However, I have an interest in looking at a nice piece of property that’s recently come available. If I wait to stop in on the way back to Mobile, I could very well run into storm season. And you know what that means.”

Growing up on the coast, Sadie did. And from the expression on Jefferson’s face, so did he. Storms brewed in the Gulf only to blow on shore with little notice. Taking chances in a vessel of this size when those chances could be avoided was foolish.

“We’ll drop anchor sometime after midnight. Dr. Porter isn’t expecting us until lunch, so don’t feel that you need to get up too early. I, however, will be saying good night as I don’t expect to come back and bother you before bedtime.”

Jefferson watched his father leave the salon and wondered what in the world had gotten into the man. Lecturing Sadie on why she ought not remain a Pinkerton? Questioning her as to why she joined up?

“I apologize for him. My father means well, but he doesn’t understand the modern woman’s ability to choose a life outside of the home.”

“Nor does mine,” she said. “Or at least I didn’t think he did. Now, well, I suppose he’s making an exception with me. Temporarily, is my guess.”

He watched her hold the painting without actually looking at it and wondered where her thoughts had gone. And then, just as quickly, her attention returned to him and to the Durer.

Setting the painting aside, he leaned back to consider his next statement carefully. “So now that we’ve decided our fathers are hopelessly mired in the past, can we also agree that we are now working together on this case? Or do I still need to earn your trust?”

“It is in our nature to question things, don’t you think? That’s what makes for good detective work.”

“I agree, but that does not answer my question.”

Sadie met his gaze with a direct look. “Part of my assignment is to determine which Tucker, if either of you, has a part in the Astor case.”

Jefferson shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

“The agency is aware that there have been mentions of Will Tucker’s involvement with Valletta. Part of my job has been to determine which Will Tucker is the guilty party.” She paused. “Or whether you both are involved.”

The admission was a surprise. And yet he should have expected as much. If the Pinkertons had enough information on him in their files to free him from Angola Prison, then they certainly ought to also be aware of other information regarding his whereabouts and associations.

“I see. And have you decided?”

“Jefferson, my father decided for me.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I am here because Seamus Callum made it possible. And while you have not yet completely earned my trust, Daddy has.”

“So, trust by proxy then? I’ll take it.” He nodded toward the desk. “Shall we go and see what we can make of these clues?”

Sadie rose. “Not yet.”

Irritation flared as he watched her walk out of the salon. What more could the woman want than what he had already offered as proof of his allegiance?