“Never mind,” Jonah told him. “I want to talk to you, and we need a place where you won’t be embarrassed if I punch you.”
“Hey now,” he said, although he allowed Jonah to lead him out onto the lawn without a fight. “I wonder what’s going on here, Miss Latour. Can you enlighten me?”
Madeline kept the coat gathered close and ignored the ginger-haired Pinkerton agent. The last thing she intended to do was get in the middle of whatever was about to happen.
Jonah opened the gate to the rose garden and led Donovan inside. When the gate closed behind them, Madeline went to settle onto a bench to watch and stay out of the way.
“I hope you’ve got a good reason for this, Cahill,” the detective snapped. “I may not have wanted to dance with that woman, but I certainly didn’t want to be taken off duty to argue with you over something either. So what is it?”
“The rose garden,” he said evenly. “I wonder if you might remember something that happened here a few nights ago.”
Donovan’s eyes narrowed. “Be specific. It’s been a busy week.”
“How about a man who wouldn’t give his name but said he’d been paid to hide here and watch the Smith house? Does that sound familiar?”
Even in the moonlight, the flush on the man’s cheeks was evident. “Now that you mention it, I do remember that. What about it?”
“Don’t play dumb, Donovan. You don’t fool me.” He leaned forward. “You withheld information pertinent to a case you knew I was actively working. Why?”
“I didn’t withhold anything, Cahill. With all the work I’ve been doing getting ready for Grant’s visit, I just plain forgot.”
Jonah shook his head. “Then you’re either lying or a lousy Pinkerton agent.”
I am neither of those.” Detective Donovan’s fists rose. “If you want to fight about this, go ahead. I’m ready. But that man we found here in the rose garden could have been any sort of lunatic. I didn’t believe him when he said what he was doing because he wouldn’t tell us his name or who he worked for.”
“Go on,” Jonah said, his tone low and menacing.
“I did have one of the staff here stop by the next day and leave a note with the maid letting the lady of the house know the fellow had made those claims. Never heard anything back from her so, like I said, I forgot about it.”
“Did you follow up with the messenger to see if the note was delivered?”
Donovan shook his head. “As I said, I got busy and forgot about it, so no.”
“Where is the suspect now?”
“Galveston jail, I guess. Unless he got let out. I didn’t follow up because it had nothing to do with what I was working on.” He shook his head and lowered his fists. “I realize now I ought to have told you about it, but it just didn’t seem like it mattered.”
“Everything matters when you’re working an investigation,” he said. “You know that.”
“I do, and like I said, I’m sorry. Do you want me to go see what happened to him? Can’t be until tomorrow because I’ve got loose ends to take care of here once the party ends.”
“No,” Jonah said. “I will handle this from here. You just let me know if you get anybody else hiding in the rose garden and claiming to be watching the house, you hear?” At Donovan’s nod, he continued. “For that matter, you let me know if you hear anything from anybody regarding this case I’m working. If you don’t, then I might have to decide you’re on the wrong side of the matter. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Donovan’s nervous laughter echoed through the rose garden.
Jonah nodded to Madeline. “Let’s go.”
She rose to stand beside him and then allowed him to lead her toward the gate. Madeline cast one last glance up at the stars, inhaling the rose garden’s sweet scent of roses and salt air.
“Hey, Cahill,” Donovan called. “Now I’m the one who ought to be calling you out, Cahill. Don’t you ever accuse me of being on the wrong side of a case.”
Jonah escorted her through the gate and then let it slam before turning around to face the Pinkerton agent. “Then don’t get on the wrong side and we won’t have a problem.”
He stood with his hand on the gate latch looking as if he might go back inside. When Detective Donovan shook his head and said nothing further, Jonah turned away.
Jonah guided her to a side exit, avoiding the guests and lawmen still gathered on the lawn. When they reached the street, he paused.
“He’s lying,” Jonah said.
“Why do you think so?”
Jonah glanced down at her. “I don’t know, but he is.”
“All right.” Madeline allowed Jonah to guide her across the street as she looked up at the house. The light in her room was off.
“Jonah,” she said. “You do remember me saying the light was on in my room. That would be the first window on the left on the third floor.”
He followed her gaze. “It is off now.” Picking up his pace, Jonah led her to the front door with his gun drawn.
“Is that really necessary?” she said. “It’s possible Gretchen saw the light on and turned it off because she knew I was at the party.”
“I suppose,” he said. “But since I am in Mrs. Smith’s employ, I intend to make sure that’s what happened.” He opened the gate and let her inside and then looked up at the window once more. “Wait for me on the porch, but don’t stand in front of the door or that window. Got it?”
Madeline nodded and hurried up to the porch. A moment later, Jonah joined her and opened the door. “Stay behind me,” he said as they went inside.
The house was dark, but moonlight streamed through the windows, offering enough light to lead them to the staircase. Madeline looked around as she walked behind Jonah. Nothing appeared to be amiss.
“I truly think this is not necessary,” she said.
Jonah turned around. “Humor me.”
“All right.” She followed him up to the second-floor landing where they paused.
“Do you see anything out of place?” When she shook her head, he continued. “And those rooms, are the doors always shut?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “No one sleeps on this floor. Madame’s chamber is downstairs, and the staff has the third floor.”
He stood there a moment longer, his gaze scanning the corridor. Then he turned and nodded toward the staircase.
Madeline stayed behind him until they arrived on the third floor. As with the ground floor, the large windows on either end of the corridor let in plenty of light to allow them to see quite well.
Jonah turned to look down at her. She shrugged.
“Yours is the door at the end?” he asked.
She nodded, and they set off, Jonah in the lead and Madeline a step behind. When they reached the door, Jonah motioned for her to stand out of the way. Gun drawn, he opened the door slowly.
A moment later, he nodded for her to join him. Madeline fumbled for the lamp and lit it. Temporarily blinded, she waited until her eyes adjusted.
“Well?” he said. “Is everything the way you left it?”
She looked around. “I think so.”
“All right, then. I have no explanation other than maybe the maid did find the light on and turn it off.” He paused. “But I will be happier once I hear that from her.”
“You want me to wake Gretchen? I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“Then tell me which room is hers and I will ask her myself.”
“No,” Madeline said. “It is late. Don’t you think this can wait until morning?”
“No, I don’t, but I can see that you do.” He paused to step out into the hallway and look both directions. “I’m going to check the doors before I leave. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, you send someone to get me or find a policeman.”
“I promise. Now let me walk you down.”
She trailed behind him all the way to the first floor then waited while he checked the halls and kitchen. Satisfied all was well, h
e returned to stand beside her.
“Look,” he told her. “I can stay here tonight if there’s any thought of a problem.”
“I told you there wasn’t,” she said. “I’m sure Gretchen will give us the answer as to why the light was on and then off, but in the meantime I plan to get some sleep, and I suggest you do the same.”
Jonah looked doubtful but nodded all the same. “I will follow up with the Galveston police in the morning and see what I can find out about the man in Mrs. Brown’s rose garden.”
“All right,” she said. “And I will speak to Gretchen first thing. Should we meet to discuss our findings sometime tomorrow?”
“Yes, that’s a good idea.” He smiled. “Unless you’ve got other plans, I can come here after I leave the police station.”
“No, that’s fine. Oh,” Madeline said. “Your jacket.”
Madeline shrugged out of the coat and instantly felt the chill even though the air was not that cold. She watched him fold the jacket over his shoulder, her fingers gripping the door frame.
He caught her studying him and smiled. Then his expression sobered. “About that kiss,” he said softly.
“There was no kiss,” she reminded him.
Jonah gave her a curt nod. “Right. There wasn’t.”
They said their goodbyes, and Madeline hurried back upstairs, rethinking her comment about the kiss with each step. After slipping out of the ruined dress and awful corset, she donned her nightgown and then went to the table to remove the necklace she’d worn.
As she placed the sapphires on the table beside the brush, Madeline realized the necklace her father gave her was still in Jonah’s pocket inside her bag. After a moment of panic, she shook her head. What safer place for that key to be than in the hands, or rather pocket, of a Pinkerton agent?
Madeline unwound the roses from her hair and placed them on the table beside the sapphires then combed out her braid. She reached for the mirror and then spied it on the floor beside the table.
Odd. She specifically remembered putting the mirror on the table before she left. And if it had broken when she returned, she would have heard it.
Maybe she was remembering wrong. That was always possible.
Just as she was about to turn out the light and climb into bed, she heard something hit the window. Then it happened again.
She turned off the light and then crept to the window just as she heard the sound again. Someone was throwing pebbles.
Daring a look, she spied Jonah and opened the window. “What are you doing?” she said as softly as she could.
He held up her bag. She pointed to the back door, and he nodded and disappeared off in that direction. Madeline threw a blanket over her nightgown. Hurrying down to the kitchen, she opened the door and leaned out to take the bag.
“Thank you.” He was just turning to go when Madeline remembered the mirror. “Oh, Jonah, it’s probably nothing, but I noticed something in my room. Do you remember if you might have knocked my mirror off the table?”
“No,” he said slowly.
“It’s fine. I probably did it.”
Jonah shook his head. “I don’t like the sound of this. Where was it?”
She shrugged as she tugged the blanket tighter around her. “I’m fine, Jonah. Really. It was on my dressing table. I found it on the floor beside the table.”
Jonah stepped inside without being invited. She was about to protest when he closed the door and turned the lock. “Are the doors and windows locked on the first floor?”
“No,” she said. “We never lock them. Why?”
“Because until I get an answer from the police and you get an answer from the maid, we don’t know what we’re dealing with. I can’t think of a good reason for anyone to be in your room while you’re away, can you?”
She huddled inside the blanket, acutely aware that Jonah seeing her like this was highly improper. “Truly, Jonah. You’re worrying for nothing.”
“I might agree if you hadn’t been shot at less than a week ago.” He peered out the kitchen window and then turned back around to face Madeline. “Twice,” he added.
He stalked down the hall, and she followed him. “We don’t know if that was intended for me or just an accident.”
Jonah had reached the front door and bolted it. “Until we’re certain, I cannot let you ladies stay here alone.”
“And you cannot stay here, Jonah. It would be—”
“It would be a favor to me,” Madame said from behind them.
Madeline turned around to find her employer wrapped in a bathrobe and standing in the hallway. “Detective Cahill, in your capacity as a detective hired by me, I find nothing improper about you taking a room on the second floor for tonight.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, “but if it’s all the same to you, I am going to stay down here and guard the doors. Last thing I want is for someone to come in here uninvited.”
Her brows rose. “Do you have reason to suspect this might happen?”
“I discovered new evidence that this house might be under surveillance. Tomorrow I’ll speak to Officer Pearson and see what he’s learned about this.” He slid Madeline a look. “There’s also a question as to whether Madeline left her light on in her room when she left for the ball.”
Madame turned toward her. “What kind of question?”
She fumbled with her blanket before looking up at Madame. “I was certain the light was off, and then I spied my window from the Browns’ home and it was on. The detective and I both saw it. Then when I returned it was off again.”
“Tell her about the mirror.”
“It was on the floor broken when I returned. We used it when Gretchen dressed my hair, and I have no recollection of it breaking in my presence.”
“I see,” Madame said slowly. “Well, tomorrow we shall speak to Gretchen to see if she heard anyone or heard glass breaking. In the meantime, please see that Detective Cahill has a blanket and pillow, preferably not the blanket you are wearing.”
She felt her cheeks flush. “Yes, Madame. And as to the blanket I am wearing, you see, I was preparing for bed when—”
“There is no need to explain. I trust you both implicitly until such time I have reason not to.” Madame shifted her attention to Jonah. “And I will once again thank you for your attention to our security needs here, Detective. If this proves to be an ongoing issue, I would very much like your recommendation on the hiring of a night guard so that you do not have to do this every night.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“All right, then,” Madame said. “I will bid you both good night.”
Madeline echoed her sentiment, as did Jonah. “I’ll just get a pillow and blanket for you,” she said as the door closed to Madame’s rooms.
She returned with the promised items and found Jonah had moved a chair from the parlor and positioned it in front of the door. “Are you sure you won’t consider taking a bed like Madame offered?”
He looked affronted. “Thank you, but no.”
“All right, then,” she said as she backtracked to the kitchen to retrieve her bag and then hurried up the stairs. At the second-floor landing, she stopped to look down at Jonah, who had already folded his oversized frame onto the chair.
“You look uncomfortable,” she told him.
“Madeline, I have been uncomfortable ever since the minute I laid eyes on you,” he said in that Texas drawl of his, “so go to bed and leave me to what I do best.”
“Grumbling?” she quipped.
“Taking care of you.” He paused. “When you let me, that is.”
The truth of that statement made her smile. “Good night, Jonah,” she said. “And thank you.”
“Good night, Madeline.”
When she reached her room, Madeline closed the door and dropped the blanket on her bed then set her bag on the table. Retrieving her necklace, she slipped the chain over her head and tucked the key into the bodice of her gown.
S
he slept well that night despite the brightness of the moon streaming through her windows and the fact that Jonah Cahill remained two floors below. Or perhaps Jonah’s presence was why she slept.
Whatever the reason, by the time she drifted downstairs for breakfast, Jonah was long gone. Gretchen set a plate of cold eggs and sausages in front of her with her usual ill humor.
“Madame asked me about the light and the mirror.”
“And?” she said as she picked up her fork to stab at the eggs.
“I know nothing of the mirror, but I will confess to lighting the lamp in your room and then returning to extinguish it.”
“Why would you do that?”
She paused as if considering her answer. “Despite all the empty rooms on the second floor, I share my room with the scullery maid. Did you know that?”
Madeline indicated that she did not.
“I thought not.” She paused. “I wished to read, and she complains if there is a lamp on in the room. Most nights I ignore her, but last night she claimed she felt ill, so I used your room and your lamp because I knew you were away for the evening.”
“I see.”
Gretchen gave her a fierce look. “But the mirror, no, I did not do that. Why would I? It was my mother’s.”
“Your mother’s? Oh no. I am so sorry.”
“Why would you be? You did not do it.”
“No,” she said. “I didn’t, but I will find out who did. Are you sure the scullery maid didn’t sneak in there for some reason? Nothing was taken, so I am not making accusations, but perhaps she also wanted privacy?”
“That little mouse? No. She wouldn’t.”
The vehemence with which Gretchen answered the question gave Madeline the assurance that the maid was telling the truth. “All right. Thank you for letting me know.”
“So your Pinkerton man, what is the relationship with you and him?”
“We are working together on an investigation for Madame,” she said.
“I see.” Gretchen walked back to the cupboard. “And that is why he comes throwing pebbles at your window past midnight and takes you up to your room in your nightclothes? Interesting assignment that requires all of that, yes?”
My Heart Belongs in Galveston, Texas Page 17
