Thursday's Child (Out of Time #5) (19 page)

She had to concede the point. Eli was the leading candidate. She just hated the idea that he would have a child and abandon her. He was so good with Louisa. But he'd hardly be the first man to do something like that. It was all too common for a man to have a child with another woman, even a slave, and disavow any responsibility.

“At least that's what I thought before breakfast,” Simon said. “Now I'm not so sure.” He leaned back in the buggy seat. “I happened upon a private moment between Rose and Eli.”

“What?”

“Not that kind,” Simon hastened to add. “They were just talking, but…Do you remember when I mentioned that I thought Eli had a secret?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“I'm fairly certain he's in love with his brother's wife.”

“Hold the phone,” Elizabeth said. She hadn't seen anything like that between them. “Eli and Rose?”

“I can't say how she feels, but I can with some certainty say how he feels.”

Elizabeth shifted in her seat. “Did he say something?”

“No, not in so many words. It was the way he looked at her.”

Elizabeth stared at Simon. Who was this man and what had he done with her husband? “A look?”

Simon glanced over at her and smiled, almost shyly. “Yes. He is secretly in love with Rose. He does his best to conceal it, but there have been a few unguarded moments and today when I came across them in the garden, I saw the way his expression changed, and I knew.”

“How could you know?”

“It was mine for over a year. I loved you secretly,” he confessed with a self-conscious smile. “I did everything in my power to keep anyone else from knowing, but I saw it in my own eyes, in my own reflection. And I saw that same pain and yearning in his today.”

Could she possibly love this man more? Elizabeth slid closer. Simon put the reins into one hand and pulled her to his side with the other and kissed her temple.

They rode in silence for a few moments. “And if Mary is Eli and Rose's child, James could have found out and sent her away.”

“But then what about Louisa?” Elizabeth said. “If Eli does love Rose and she doesn't or can't love him back because of James, we’re back to Eli being the father with Alice Stewart as the mother.”

Simon sighed. “I wish Mary could tell us more.”

“We need a ghost telegraph or something.”

“Maybe Old Nan can help us,” Simon said.

Elizabeth hoped so. Time was running out.

Chapter Sixteen

Simon keyed open their hotel room door and stepped back for Elizabeth to precede him inside.

“Rut-roh,” Elizabeth said softly.

Simon was about to ask her what that meant when he saw for himself. Their room had been ransacked. Furniture was overturned and their belongings scattered. Simon raised a hand asking Elizabeth to wait by the door. She made a face and he knew better than to argue the point. He carefully made his way toward the bedroom, Elizabeth's hand resting on his back as she followed. He grabbed two long heavy candlesticks and handed one to Elizabeth.

The door to the bedroom was open and he peered through the slit by the wall and hinges. He could only see a small section of the room though and had no choice but to continue forward, arm raised and ready to strike.

He pushed the door open with his foot and when no sound came from inside, he crossed the threshold. The room was empty. Whoever had been here was long gone. Thankfully, the watch and key were safe in his pocket, but the rest of their belongings looked to be destroyed.

Elizabeth put her candlestick down on the side table. “I wonder what they were looking for?”

“I don't know,” Simon said, feeling the anger rise inside him. “To see who we are, why we're asking questions.” He picked up one of Elizabeth's dresses from the floor, or what was left of it. It had been slashed to ribbons.

“Oh, I liked that one,” she said with a frown as she took the shredded garment from him.

“Either way, they're trying to intimidate us,” Simon said. “And it's making me rather cross.”

Elizabeth looked as though she was going to say something about the pun, but thought better of it. It was just as well. He was in no mood for jokes at the moment. If whoever was behind this thought they could be put off by threats, they were sorely mistaken.

~~~

They'd salvaged what they could and packed up the rest. After giving the hotel manager a dressing down for having let such a thing happen at his establishment, Simon instructed him to keep their trunk somewhere safe until other arrangements could be made.

He and Elizabeth stopped by dressmakers and haberdashers and everything in between to start the arduous process of repurchasing what they needed. Most shops had little on hand and had to special order items from New Orleans. Sending the order down river and waiting for the shipment could take weeks. It was time they didn't have. After two hours spent on that futility, the next step was finding a new, and hopefully, more secure place to stay. Unfortunately, the Mansion House Hotel was by far the best in town. If the security had been lax there, he shuddered to think what it would be like at the others.

Just as Simon was reaching a boiling point of frustration, fortune smiled on them in the form of Catherine Stanton. She was returning from her morning volunteering at the orphanage when they ran into her in town. Needing someone to trust and a little help, they confided in her. Mostly.

They were somewhat circumspect in providing the truth behind their curiosity about Mary, but that didn't seem to matter to Catherine. She saw their interest in the girl as a just cause and, if there was ever anyone Simon had met who was ready to mount a hobbyhorse and ride it into the ground in the name of a cause, it was Catherine Stanton. She was more than happy to offer them not just accommodation, but clothing.

In a whirlwind of activity, she began to take care of their needs. One of her brothers was just about Simon's size and would be, she assured them, happy to have offered the clothes. Elizabeth's situation was more difficult. Catherine was a half-foot taller and their shapes could not have been more dissimilar, but Catherine Stanton was not a woman to be put off by such minor impediments and managed to procure Elizabeth several dresses, one quite stunning that needed only minor alterations.

They were most obliged for her help with the clothing, but the place to stay was more complicated.

“Your offer is incredibly generous,” Simon said, as one of the servants brought lemonade out onto the veranda of Cypress Hill. “But—”

“The Colonel won't mind,” Catherine said with a dismissive wave. “The house is far too big for just the two of us. You can stay as long as you need.”

“That's very kind,” Elizabeth said, “but I think what Simon was going to say is that whoever broke into our hotel room could be violent. We don't know that they won't try something again. Maybe even worse.”

Catherine's eyes sparkled at the challenge and she pushed back her chair. She dug around under the table, her petticoats fluffing up into the air. “Any man who tries to break into Cypress Hill uninvited will have a rather rude awakening,” she said as she sat back up and brandished a large pistol she must have had concealed under her dress.

She waved it in the air as if she was rousing the troops at the charge of the Light Brigade. “I'd like to see them try!”

Abraham appeared almost out of nowhere and his hand shot out and grabbed the pistol. “Miss Catherine,” he said with a frown as he took it from her. “What did the Colonel say about you and guns?”

She feigned ignorance.

“That it were like giving a banjo to a bear and half as much fun.” Abraham made sure the gun wasn't cocked and tucked it into his waist.

“Really, you two are never going to forgive me for that, are you?” she said. “It was an accident. Most of his hair grew back.”

~~~

Once they'd settled in at Cypress Hill, she and Simon had ventured over to the police station to see what they could learn about the body that had been unearthed. They scouted the small police station, waiting for the senior officers to go to dinner and leaving a young, green officer as the sole man on duty.

Simon walked into the station as if he owned it. He rang the bell on the desk with a sharp slap and waited impatiently for the duty clerk to come out of the backroom. Luckily for them, the man that emerged was little more than a teenager and not the barrel chested sergeant they'd seen at the house yesterday.

Elizabeth lingered by the bulletin board, looking at Mississippi's most wanted, giving Simon room to operate and ready to jump in with Plan B if Plan A failed. However, judging from the nervous and pimply face of the young officer, Simon would have this one well in hand.

The young officer's heavy wool uniform was so oversized the poor kid could have fit two of himself inside it. He tugged nervously on his jacket to make sure the buttons were all done properly and hurried to the desk.

“Ma'am,” the boy said with a quick bow.

Elizabeth smiled at him and the boy smiled back, suddenly nervous. He pulled himself away from Elizabeth and back to Simon, who glared at him impatiently as if the man should have been able to divine his request from his mere presence. The young man swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat like a Ping-Pong ball.

“Yes, sir?” he squeaked finally.

Simon tugged off his gloves with royal diffidence. “The report,” he said simply.

“Sir?”

Simon sighed. “The coroner's report? The Jane Doe?”

The boy's head bobbled up and down, relieved to have some idea what was going on. “Right.”

Simon narrowed his eyes. “Well?”

“Um, I—”

“I don't have all day, boy,” Simon said as he slapped his gloves into one hand. “Are you familiar with the Harper family?”

The boy nodded.

“They are, as you would imagine, deeply upset by yesterday's events. Do you want me to tell them of how your impertinence added to their misery or should I deal directly with your sergeant?”

The boy quelled under the thought of either possibility. Elizabeth felt a little sorry for the kid. She'd seen confident college students reduced to puddles of gibbering insecurity for less by this imperious version of Professor Cross.

The boy gulped. “I'm sorry, sir.”

“The report?”

The boy nodded quickly and hurriedly went through the top drawer of one of the large filing cabinets at the back of the room. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over to Simon.

Simon read it, his frown deepening. Elizabeth didn't like the looks of that. Deep frowning was never good. “This is the report in its entirety?”

“Yes, sir.”

Simon put the paper down on the counter. “I see. You have been most helpful, Officer…?

“Miller, sir.”

Simon bowed and held out his arm for Elizabeth. She went to him and slipped her arm through his.

“Thank you, Miller,” Simon said. “I'll be sure the Harpers know how helpful you've been.”

Simon escorted Elizabeth out of the station and into the early night air.

“Well?” she asked, dying to know what the report said.

Simon looked anxiously behind and didn't answer until they'd put a little distance between themselves and the station. “The report was a farce.”

Elizabeth shook her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“No cause of death determined, 'no injuries present',” Simon said with a sneer. “No inventory of clothing or personal items. No mention of the necklace I saw at all. The doctor didn't make any effort to identify the woman, or—”

“Already knew who she was,” Elizabeth finished for him with a sinking feeling in her gut. “And didn't want anyone else to know.”

Simon grimaced. “I'll give you two guesses as to the identity of the author of this fiction.”

Elizabeth knew who it was before Simon had even finished asking. “Dr. Walker?”

Simon nodded. “The very one.”

She wasn't shocked that there was a potential police cover-up. Not really. Sadly, very little of this was adding up in neat little columns. “Why would the police be in on it though?”

Simon led her over to a recessed doorway. “I'm not sure they are. They would have little reason to question the coroner's report. The body was beyond identification, if there was no physical evidence as the report indicated, there would be little they could do and little cause to pursue the case.”

She knew this sort of thing happened all the time, throughout history, but it didn't make it any more palatable. “And no one wealthy has been reported missing, so she's just buried and forgotten?” Elizabeth asked.

“Tomorrow, as a matter of fact.”

“That doesn't leave us much time.”

Simon arched an eyebrow. “To do what?”

Elizabeth merely smiled.

Chapter Seventeen

Elizabeth pulled on her cap and looked in the mirror. A goofy-looking, and somewhat effeminate, boy looked back. She'd bound her chest with long strips of cloth to flatten her figure, but her face was too round and too soft. She swam inside her oversized clothes and generally looked like a dope. But she didn't care. She was finally free of that cursed corset and had never been so thrilled in all of her life to wear pants.

She'd settled on an old linen French blouse that hung out over her large brown wool trousers. The cuffs of the pants had to be rolled three times before she could keep from tripping on them. A piece of hemp roped tied tightly around the waist was the only thing that kept her trousers from falling around her ankles. It seemed that the Stanton boys were giants, even in their youth.

Her sack coat was made from rough and scratchy brown burlap. It almost looked like a small artist's frock with sloping shoulder and straight at the sides. It wasn't a good look. But, she reminded herself, this wasn't a fashion show; it was breaking and entering.

Initially, Simon had rejected the idea of breaking into the morgue, citing two reasons that were really rather reasonable. It was dangerous and it was a felony.

Elizabeth had tried to persuade him by pointing out that the danger was mitigated by the fact that in the middle of the night, the morgue would be deserted. Besides, it was a felony only if they got caught. If they let that woman be buried tomorrow, any clue as to who she might have been would be lost forever. That would be a far worse crime, and they couldn't let that happen. The woman deserved better than that. And, if their suspicions were right, knowing who the woman was would be the key to helping Mary. If Dr. Walker's report wasn't just laziness or incompetence, but a calculated cover-up, it was best they knew that too. Finding the necklace Simon had seen or some other identification was worth the risks.