My Heart Belongs in Galveston, Texas

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  As the light blazed and an orange glow settled over the cellar, Jonah spied what appeared to be the beginnings of a hole near the easternmost wall. Apparently the idiots had been interrupted in their endeavors, because the shovel they used was still leaning against the wall.

  “This doesn’t belong down here, does it?” Jonah asked Susanna.

  “No, I have never seen this shovel.”

  Jonah nodded. This would go into evidence tomorrow. For now, he would bring the tool upstairs to keep it from disappearing or being used again. He would also see that the cellar door was repaired before he laid his head on his pillow tonight.

  “Exactly when did you last have to call out Officer Pearson?”

  “Three days ago,” she admitted.

  “And have you seen anything suspicious since?”

  She looked up at him, her expression serious. “I do find this particular hairstyle you’re now wearing suspicious. I wonder why you chose it.”

  As Susanna giggled, Jonah felt his anger rising. “Stop,” he managed. “You really need to take this seriously. Strangers with a shovel have been digging down here, likely while you and Mama were asleep upstairs. Have you not considered they could have chosen to walk in the back door and accost both of you rather than choose to do their damage in the cellar?”

  She hadn’t. Even in the dim light, he could see the sudden realization on her face.

  “Townsend will have to be made to keep his nose out of this and his reports out of the paper,” he said.

  “There is no crime in writing newspaper stories.” She paused to chuckle. “A pity when it comes to Mr. Townsend.”

  “True, but when those stories incite criminal activity, that becomes an entirely different situation.” At his sister’s skeptical look, he shook his head. “Don’t worry. I will handle this.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Jonah snatched up the shovel and escorted his sister to the door. “It’s what I do, you know.”

  Jonah walked into the Galveston Police Department headquarters with a shovel and a bad attitude. He had been up most of the night deciding how best to handle the issue of the threat to Cahill property and possibly Cahill lives once he left Galveston.

  If anyone were to truly find treasure on the grounds, they certainly would not take well to Mama or Susanna interrupting them. And if anything happened to either of them, Jonah would never forgive himself.

  Officer Pearson ushered Jonah to a desk situated beneath an open eastern-facing window and piled high with papers that shifted each time a breeze drifted through. Jonah took a seat across from the police officer and waited until Pearson had cleared a spot and retrieved pen and paper.

  “First, thank you for seeing to the issue at my mother’s home,” Jonah said. “Your presence was of great relief to my sister.”

  “Just doing my job,” he said, “although I am happy to hear that I was able to ease your sister’s mind about her safety. She’s a very nice lady, and I don’t like to think of her and your mother in danger.” He looked away and cleared his throat then nodded toward the shovel now leaning against the edge of his desk. “So you’ve got new evidence?”

  “Discovered yesterday by me during the course of my review of the crime scene,” he said. “Susanna has confirmed that this shovel does not belong on the property, so I’m turning it over to you to be processed as evidence.”

  Pearson rose to examine the shovel while Jonah described the location where he found the garden tool. “Don’t see any identifying marks on this.” He looked over at Jonah. “It will be difficult to identify an owner.”

  “Yes,” Jonah said, “but it is evidence all the same. What can you tell me about your investigation thus far?”

  Officer Pearson returned to his chair and regarded Jonah with a serious expression. “I’ve got trespassing and property damage charges pending against the perpetrator or perpetrators. With your evidence and testimony, I can add breaking and entering and another count of property damage.”

  “If the culprit turns out to be Townsend, you can add harassment and irritating a Pinkerton agent.”

  Officer Pearson chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. “Townsend’s a little enthusiastic, but he’s harmless. Once he’s been on the island for a while he will settle down and figure out how things are done here.”

  “I am going to have to respectfully disagree. Just the amount of irritation he caused me in the few minutes I had the unfortunate experience of meeting him has to be worth jail time.”

  “I will admit he’s a trial when he corners you, but until I have proof he’s more than just annoying, I cannot consider him a suspect in anything that’s happened to your family.” He let out a long breath. “However, I’ll see that he understands to stay away from your mother and sister. Will that help?”

  “Thank you,” Jonah said. “Is there anything else I need to know about what’s happened at my family home?”

  The police officer seemed reluctant to respond. Finally he shrugged. “There is one thing that you should consider. Miss Cahill told me she did not believe anything had been taken, only that holes had been dug.”

  “Yes, that is true.”

  “Have you considered the possibility that whoever dug those holes has found something and that is why he keeps coming back?”

  He had not. And yet, it was certainly something to think about. Finding treasure at the bottom of one of those holes would be a good reason to return and dig more. Of course, so was finding nothing.

  “Every child I knew dug in that yard. My guess is the same happened in my father’s time. Nobody ever found a thing. However, what is your opinion?” Jonah asked him.

  “Truth is, I haven’t formed one yet, Detective. There’s just too little information and too many options.” He shrugged. “I’d welcome any help, but you do have my word I will keep this case a top priority.”

  Jonah rose. “I appreciate that.”

  Officer Pearson stood but seemed hesitant to say goodbye. “Was there anything else?” Jonah asked.

  The police officer glanced around before returning his attention to Jonah. “I wonder if you’d like me to keep an eye on Miss Cahill and your mother until whoever’s been digging over there is found.”

  “I appreciate that, Officer Pearson, but owing to a Pinkerton assignment I have taken on here in Galveston, I will be staying there and should be able to watch over my mother and sister just fine.”

  His smile dissolved. “I see. Well, if you need some assistance, you know where to find me.”

  “I appreciate that. I’ll let you know anything else I find that might help.” Jonah took two steps toward the door and then realized what had just happened. Unless he missed his guess—and he rarely did—Officer Pearson was looking for a way to spend more time with his sister.

  Susanna had spent all her time taking care of Mama since their father died. Maybe it was time for her to find a little happiness. And who better than another lawman to be the fellow who captured her heart?

  Jonah turned around. Officer Pearson was still watching him.

  “You know,” Jonah said as he returned to his spot beside the desk. “I start work on a new investigation tomorrow. With my responsibilities to the Pinkertons keeping me busy at all hours of the day, and possibly the evening as well, I wonder if I might ask a favor of you. I wonder if you might look in on my mother and sister. Just to be certain all is well.”

  “Sure,” he said, his expression brightening. “It would be an honor, Detective Cahill.”

  “Under the circumstances, maybe you ought to call me Jonah.”

  He grinned. “Then you’ll call me Thomas.”

  “All right, Thomas, thank you.”

  As Jonah walked away, he couldn’t help but grin. Susanna would either be very happy with him or completely irritated.

  Either way, it would be fun to watch.

  His mission complete, Jonah stepped out into the midmorning sunshine and then stopped short. Wa
s that Madeline Latour going into the T. Ratto & Company Confectioners?

  Madeline’s sweet tooth led her into the confectioner’s shop even as good sense told her she should first complete her mission to mail a letter to Papa. She hadn’t corresponded with him since she sent him the telegram letting him know she had arrived safely.

  The interior of T. Ratto & Company Confectioners was filled from top to bottom with sugary treats of every type. To her left, a long counter ran the length of the shop with a mirror on the wall behind it. Displays of Crown and Messina oranges and Messina lemons were stacked on the counter near the cash register, and a display of bottles of fruit essences lined the shelves behind them.

  The smell of cakes baking competed with the fragrance of sugar candies and roasting peanuts. Madeline inhaled deeply and then smiled.

  The shop was thick with customers, and a dark-haired gentleman with an accent that sounded vaguely Italian was speaking with a housewife in an animated tone.

  The door closed behind Madeline with a jingle made by a string of silver bells affixed to the doorknob.

  “Good morning, young lady,” he called. “I’ll see to you once I’ve helped these kind folks.”

  “I am in no hurry. There are far too many choices, and I will need a few minutes to decide.”

  The Italian fellow went back to his customer while Madeline slipped past a pair of well-fed matrons and a harried mother trying to corral two young boys. The bells on the door jangled again as the boys began playing tag around their mother’s skirts. One of the matrons walked toward her, causing Madeline to step out of her way behind a display of tea cakes.

  She stepped back into the aisle, her eyes on a presentation of rock candy on the counter. So intent was her focus that she did not see the Pinkerton agent until he stood between her and her intended treat.

  “Hello, Madeline.”

  She gasped and took a step backward, colliding with the display of tea cakes. Detective Cahill reached around her to steady the table, placing him far too near. She ducked under his arm and hurried past the boys and their mother to emerge onto the street.

  Her heart racing, Madeline spent just a moment debating whether to duck into the post office and complete the mission that brought her to this part of the city or to hurry back to the home Madame had rented in hopes that Jonah Cahill would not catch her first. Unfortunately, she spent too long trying to decide.

  “Hello, Jonah,” she said when he stepped out into the sunshine and caught up to her on the sidewalk.

  Without responding, the Pinkerton grabbed her elbow and escorted her away from the busy sidewalk and into the shadows of the alley around the corner. She might have avoided the private conversation by crying out in protest, but truly she was as intrigued regarding why Detective Cahill was in Galveston as she was annoyed that he might pose a threat to her investigation and employment with Madame.

  Rather than tip her own hand, Madeline followed quietly and then waited for the angry expression on Jonah’s face to translate to action—and conversation. While she waited, she pasted on a smile.

  The better to irritate him, for a man in the throes of anger was a man who tended to speak before thinking. And men who spoke before thinking were a reporter’s best source of information.

  She considered retrieving her notebook and pen from her reticule then decided against it. Anything he said, she would have to commit to memory. It was far too dangerous to have a notebook containing important information pertinent to her Lafitte investigation near the hands of the last man she wanted to see it.

  It was quiet here, the shadows cool and the scent decidedly more green and earthy than the nearby street. Sounds of horses clopping past mingled with snippets of conversation as they drifted by on the salt-scented breeze.

  It reminded her a bit of the New Orleans courtyard where they had shared their first kiss. The thought jarred her, as did the Pinkerton’s nearness.

  Jonah released her and then began to pace. “Why are you following me?” he demanded.

  “Following you?” She laughed. “You’re the one who is following me, Jonah Cahill. First in New Orleans and now here. What is it exactly that you want from me?”

  “The truth of why you are here in Galveston, Madeline.” He halted his pacing and stood in front of her. Oh, but he was a handsome man, particularly so at this moment.

  But he was Jonah Cahill, and they had a shared history. Worse, if Papa was correct in his theory that the Pinkertons were investigating Latour & Sons, then Jonah Cahill might actually be investigating her part in the family business.

  Madeline smiled in spite of herself. “Jonah, you flatter me,” she said as she watched those beautiful silver eyes lock on hers. “Why in the world would I want to follow you anywhere, let alone to an alley in Galveston? And remember, you’re the one who found me. I was innocently shopping for a sweet treat when you barged in with your histrionics.”

  His dark brows rose. Like her, there was French blood flowing in his veins. Unlike her, that blood and its resulting disposition gave him quite the temper.

  “Histrionics?” he managed. “I have been accused of many things, but that is a first.”

  “See,” she said gently, “you’re proving my point. My father, he is the same way. Accuse him of losing his temper, and he will have the same kind of fit you are having now. All the pacing and bluster, it is quite irritating but I manage to bear it. But you know that.”

  “Noble of you,” he said through clenched jaw. “You haven’t answered my question. Why are you following me? Are you here on business related to the Picayune?”

  Madeline thought of several responses, none of which would get her out of this alley and away from the frustrating man as quickly as she wished. Rather, she smiled sweetly up at the one man who could ruin her Lafitte investigation by being far too interested in her business here in Galveston and said the one thing she hoped would quench his curiosity.

  “I am not following you, Jonah, although I do not doubt whatever brings you to Galveston would likely be interesting enough to write about. I am here as the guest of a woman for whom I have been doing some work.”

  “Who is this woman?”

  Madeline pushed an errant strand of hair away from her face. “Jonah, unless you can give me a good reason for betraying that confidence, I am not going to answer that.”

  He squared his shoulders like a gunfighter waiting to pull his gun. “I could easily find out.”

  “Well of course you can,” she said, doing her best not to consider the fact that he just might do that. “But what would be the purpose? I assure you my time in Galveston will be spent on pursuits that have nothing to do with you or the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”

  Madeline let out a long breath. Now maybe he would leave her alone. Then a thought occurred.

  She paused to allow him to digest the information and then continued, her tone sweet and light. “So I might ask of you, why are you here in Galveston? Is there something I ought to be writing about for the Picayune?”

  Jonah’s change of expression told Madeline the question had hit its mark. “Do not cross me again, Madeline.”

  “I have no intention of crossing you, Jonah. In fact, my intention at this moment is to return to the confectioner’s and pay for those tea cakes you knocked over.”

  “You will do nothing of the sort.” He shook his head. “Look, if you are truly on the island for the reasons you’ve said, then I hope you enjoy your time here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But if you have not been telling me the truth, I will find out soon.”

  “I have no doubt,” she said even as she hoped he would not. “So shall we go back to the confectioner’s and finish our business there? Or did you have more threats and ultimatums to deliver?”

  Jonah almost smiled. “I think I’ve delivered all the ultimatums I need to deliver this morning. As to threats? No. Consider those promises.”

  Madeline managed a nod and a grin that
she hoped would cover the lurch in her stomach. When would she learn that Jonah Cahill was not a man to be toyed with? Nor was he a man whose kisses she would forget anytime soon.

  If only she hadn’t just recalled them.

  Using her best finishing school posture, Madeline turned her back on the Pinkerton agent and made her way up the alley to the street beyond. Turning right, she opened the door to T. Ratto & Company Confectioners and stepped inside with all the dignity of a woman who had not just been hauled out on the arm of an angry detective.

  The shop was quiet now, the matrons and the woman and her sons having gone. Madeline gave thanks that none of those who witnessed their spectacle were here to see her return.

  Before the door could close, Jonah followed her inside. He and the owner, Mr. Ratto, exchanged greetings, first in Italian and then in English. Madeline noticed the tea cake display had been repaired with no signs of any bad conduct having happened there.

  “Two tea cakes and a peppermint please,” she said, ignoring the fact that Jonah now stood directly behind her.

  “Put that on my account,” Jonah said as Mr. Ratto wrapped Madeline’s purchases.

  “Do no such thing,” Madeline responded.

  “Ignore her,” the detective demanded as he reached around to set another tea cake on the counter. “And add this to the amount.”

  Madeline pulled her coins from her pocket and set them on the counter. “I will pay for his as well.”

  Mr. Ratto looked back and forth between Jonah and Madeline and then shook his head and threw up his hands. “Out. Both of you. And take your coins, young lady,” he said as he handed her the coins along with her wrapped treats.

  Jonah said something in Italian and then added in English, “I insist.”

  The confectioner would not be convinced. “Neither of you will pay me, do you hear? Now go, both of you. Carry on your flirtation elsewhere.”

  “I assure you flirtation is the last thing on my mind with this man,” Madeline corrected. “Now if you will not take my coins, might I open an account?”