by Connie Mason
Chapter 9
The days following Casey’s departure were difficult ones for Belle. Naomi and Wan Yo were a comfort, but they couldn’t help solve any of Belle’s problems. Or ease her heartache. Tommy was out of reach and even Casey had deserted her. Casey’s leaving shouldn’t make her feel as if she’d been abandoned but it did, and she couldn’t understand why. He had used her, betrayed her, and then abandoned her. Oh, she knew his brother needed him, but she still couldn’t help feeling utterly alone and defenseless.
Belle didn’t want to miss Casey. He had promised to return, but she was afraid to set too much stock in his words. It wouldn’t be the first time he had lied to her. He had made her care for him then betrayed her trust. Despite knowing that, she had still allowed him to make love to her after he rescued her from that vile pair of Sydney Ducks. It had seemed so right, so wonderful at the time. Oh, God, she needed Casey. Just to know he was nearby …
But he wasn’t nearby. McAllister still had Tommy and she had no one to rely upon but herself. Each day she left the Pleasure Parlor and walked to the McAllister house, hoping for a glimpse of Tommy. She had walked up and down the block so many times in the past several days she knew how many blades of grass grew between the cracks in the sidewalk. Twice a man called at the house and gained entrance. She had no idea who the man was, for she didn’t get a good look at his face.
Once she thought she spied Tommy in an upstairs window but when she waved, the shadowy figure disappeared and she was no longer sure it was Tommy she had seen. One time the bodyguard came outside and chased her away from the front gate. She usually lingered in the vicinity until dark before trudging back to Naomi’s.
Then one sunny day Belle saw Tommy leave the house with his grandfather, nursemaid, and bodyguard. They hurried the boy down the front walk and into a waiting carriage. Belle saw them from across the street and rushed heedlessly into the road to hail them. McAllister saw her and whipped the horses into a fine lather, nearly running her down in the process. Her bad ankle gave beneath her and she fell, calling out Tommy’s name. He must have heard her, for his pale face appeared at the back window. He started to wave and then someone pulled him down so she could no longer see him.
Belle lay in the road, sobbing as if her heart were breaking. They couldn’t do this to her. She was a good mother. She didn’t deserve this kind of treatment.
“Are you hurt, lady?”
Belle looked up into the eyes of an elderly, poorly dressed man with thinning gray hair and piercing, almost colorless gray eyes. A concerned frown puckered his brow as he endeavored to help her to her feet.
“I’m not hurt, thank you,” Belle said as she rose unsteadily to her feet and dusted off her torn skirt.
“Why did McAllister try to run you down?”
“You know him?”
The man’s sallow face assumed a wistful expression and his eyes dimmed with memory. “Not anymore. He could have killed you. Why?”
“It’s a long story. It’s getting dark, I should go home.”
“Can I help you?”
“I’ll be all right, thank you, Mr …”
“Hopkins. Harry Hopkins. Are you sure I can’t help you?”
“I’ll be fine, it’s only a short walk back home.” She certainly didn’t want Mr. Hopkins escorting her to Naomi’s. What would he think?
She turned and limped away, looking back over her shoulder only once. Harry Hopkins was gone, having disappeared as mysteriously as he had appeared. During the walk home Belle came to a decision. She couldn’t go on this way. She had to see Tommy.
Belle hoped to slip up to her room without being seen, but Naomi had been watching for her. She met Belle at the foot of the stairs and pulled her into her office.
“What the hell happened to you? Look at you, you’re covered with dirt, and your dress is torn beyond repair.” Her eyes narrowed. “Who hurt you?”
“I slipped and fell,” Belle lied. She knew if Naomi learned the truth, she’d feel obligated to involve herself in this battle and McAllister could ruin the madam with little effort. Belle had to fight McAllister on her own.
“Sure, and I’m a society matron,” Naomi said, rolling her eyes. “Why won’t you let me help you?”
“There is nothing you can do. My father-in-law is a powerful man.”
“When Casey comes back he’ll find a way,” Naomi said with firm conviction.
“If he comes back. He’s lied to me before.”
“Don’t give up, honey, something good is bound to happen soon.”
Belle sighed. “You’re right, something is going to happen. I’m tired, Naomi, I’m going upstairs. You have duties and I’m keeping you from them.”
Just then a commotion broke out in the parlor, and one of the girls burst through the door to report to Naomi. Naomi gave Belle an apologetic shrug and left in a flurry of petticoats. Belle peeked out the door, saw that the hallway was empty, and quickly closed the door. It wouldn’t do for her to be discovered rummaging through Naomi’s belongings. She went quickly to Naomi’s desk, opened the top drawer on the left, and immediately found what she was looking for.
Lying atop a sheath of papers, the gun Naomi used when her bouncers needed help evicting troublesome customers gleamed wickedly in the dark recesses of the drawer. Handling the gun gingerly, Belle checked the chambers, saw it was fully loaded, and slipped it into her pocket. Then she quietly left the office, hurrying to her own room to make her plans.
While lingering outside McAllister’s house, Belle had learned several helpful facts. The bodyguard made rounds twice a day around the perimeter of the property—at ten in the morning and seven in the evening—and the front door was usually left unlocked in anticipation of the bodyguard’s return. After the evening rounds he locked the front door and then took supper in the kitchen. He wasn’t seen again in the front part of the house for an hour or better, allowing Belle sufficient time to gain entrance and confront McAllister. All she had to do was choose a time when McAllister was home.
Belle waited until Saturday night, when customers began arriving at Naomi’s earlier than on weekdays. By six o’clock Naomi was too busy to notice Belle leaving through the back entrance. The weight of Naomi’s gun rested comfortably in her pocket. Wan Yo took note of her departure, but was so accustomed to seeing Belle leave at odd times of day and night that he paid her little heed.
Belle walked as fast as her lame leg would allow, arriving at the McAllister house shortly before seven o’clock. She crept around to the back and noted that McAllister’s horse and carriage were in the carriage house, which meant he was home. So far so good, she thought as she made her way to the front of the house and positioned herself behind a flowering hibiscus to wait and watch.
Kellerman exited the front door right on schedule. He walked to the gate, looked up and down the street, checked the front windows, then walked around the side of the house to the back. Belle moved with alacrity the moment his back was turned. Her steps were surprisingly agile as she raced toward the front entrance. Suddenly she had second thoughts about the gun she carried. Breaking into a man’s home with a loaded gun was both stupid and dangerous. Removing the gun from her pocket, she emptied the chambers onto the front lawn. Then she turned the doorknob and ducked through the front door. She never noticed the slouched figure watching from across the street.
Inside the foyer she frantically searched for a place to hide until Kellerman returned from his rounds and went to the kitchen for his supper. She found what she was looking for in a large statue located in a dark corner. She scooted behind it and pulled her skirts around her scant seconds before Kellerman reentered the house and locked the door behind him.
The sound of Kellerman’s heavy steps rang in her ears as he plodded past her down the hallway. Belle peeked out from behind the statue as Kellerman opened a door, poked his head inside and called out, “All’s secure, boss. I’m going to take my supper now.”
Belle heard a muffled
reply but not the words. Not that it mattered. She knew McAllister was home and now she knew where to find him. She waited until Kellerman’s footsteps could no longer be heard before leaving her hiding place. The foyer was cast in shadows both menacing and welcome as Belle tread quietly toward the door behind which she expected to find her ruthless father-in-law.
Before her courage failed her, she turned the knob and entered the room. She closed the door quietly behind her and stood in the shadows, staring at T.J. McAllister.
“Back already, Kellerman? Did you forget something?” McAllister asked without looking up from the evening paper he was perusing.
“It’s not Kellerman and you’ve got something that’s mine.”
McAllister started violently. “How did you get in? Where is Kellerman?”
“Eating, I would assume. As to how I got in, where there’s a will there’s a way.”
“Well you can just twitch your little butt out of here. This is Saturday night, you should be at Naomi’s turning tricks.”
Belle blanched. “You must really hate me.”
“You can’t begin to know how much. Get out of here.”
“I want Tommy.”
He gave a bark of laughter. “You can’t have him.”
Belle shoved her hand into her pocket and felt the weight of the gun. “You’re wrong. You and I are going upstairs to get him right now.”
“You’ve got guts. I’ll give you that much, but you’re beginning to bore me, Miss Parker.”
She curled her fingers around the gun and slid it out of her pocket. “Maybe this will persuade you.”
McAllister stared at the gun, then at Belle, and realized she was dead serious. “What do you intend to do with that?”
“You’ll find out if you don’t let me see Tommy,” she threatened. “I’m desperate. I have no life without my son.”
McAllister gave a nervous laugh. His gaze didn’t waver from the gun in Belle’s hand. “Put that thing down before you hurt someone.”
“You have every reason to be afraid, Mr. McAllister,” she warned. “You’ve taken everything from me, I have nothing to lose. Get up, we’re going to find Tommy.” Her finger caressed the trigger.
McAllister rose slowly. He considered Belle mad enough to shoot and wasn’t taking any chances. Besides, she’d never get out of the house with the boy. And even if by some remote chance she did, she wouldn’t get to the city limits.
Jubilant, Belle followed McAllister out the door. She didn’t know what she would have done had McAllister refused to obey. She was desperate, but she could never kill another human being, that’s why she had emptied the chambers of the gun beforehand. No matter how despicable T.J. was, he was still Tom’s father and Tommy’s grandfather.
“You’re making a big mistake, Belle,” McAllister said, glancing nervously over his shoulder at Belle. “You can’t pull that trigger and you know it.”
“I can and I will,” Belle said with false bravado. “It would be so easy to kill you. Men like you are a menace to society.” Belle couldn’t believe she was saying such terrible things. It was so unlike her to make empty threats, but McAllister had driven her past reason. “Take me to Tommy and you won’t get hurt.”
The wild pounding of her heart drowned out the sound of footsteps creeping up behind her as she prodded McAllister toward the staircase. Caught up in a maelstrom of anticipation and yearning—she was so close to Tommy—Belle was completely focused on her son and sorely oblivious to her surroundings.
Suddenly she was turned violently and the gun wrested from her hand. Kellerman did not release his hurtful grasp as he handed the gun to McAllister. McAllister opened the chamber, saw it was empty and snorted in disgust.
“The damn thing isn’t even loaded.”
“You want me to send someone for the sheriff, boss?” Kellerman wanted to know.
Before McAllister could reply, Tommy appeared at the top of the stairs. His eyes lit up when he saw Belle and he flew down the steps before his nursemaid could stop him. He started beating on Kellerman, who had Belle pinned against him.
“Don’t hurt my mama! You’re a bad man. Let my mama go!”
“Tommy.” Belle sobbed out his name and he immediately went to her, his little arms hugging her waist fiercely. Then he turned to McAllister, his eyes blazing furiously. “I hate you, Grandfather!”
“What should I do with her, boss?” Kellerman repeated. “The bitch threatened you. I heard her. She belongs behind bars.”
McAllister looked at the sobbing Tommy and couldn’t get the boy’s words out of his mind. He didn’t want to live the rest of his life with his only grandchild hating him. “No, don’t call the sheriff, she’s harmless. Throw her out.”
“Harmless, hell,” Kellerman mumbled as he unlocked the door and pulled it open. Before he could toss Belle out he had to literally peel Tommy away from his mother.
Tommy screamed uncontrollably as Belle landed in the grass at the bottom of the front steps. McAllister walked to the door and stared dispassionately at Belle. Tommy continued to scream long after he was dragged upstairs by his nurse.
Belle sprawled on the lawn, too stunned to move. She wasn’t hurt badly, just bruised and humiliated, and so damn frustrated she wanted to lie there and die. Once again she had failed. It had been disgustingly foolish to think she could settle things this way. Look where it had gotten her. Tossed out on her ear and Tommy so upset she could still hear his cries echoing through the night.
Gingerly she picked herself up, found she could stand, albeit not without considerable pain, and limped away. McAllister stood watching her from the open doorway. He waited until Belle was out of sight then tossed the gun into the shrubbery.
Belle was too upset and ashamed to tell anyone about this fiasco tonight. She had planned to return the gun before Naomi missed it, sparing herself the humiliation of an explanation. Her plan had been foiled by McAllister, and she had neither the gun nor the bullets in her possession. Her shoulders slumped in dejection, Belle trudged home wearily.
McAllister returned to his study. Tommy had finally gone to sleep but McAllister had been deeply disturbed by the boy’s tears. He had come to love the boy. Tommy was all he had left in the world, and he wanted to give the child every advantage money could buy. One day, when Tommy was older, he would thank his grandfather, that much McAllister knew, but until then the boy would have to learn to get along without his mother.
“Any instructions for the night, boss?” Kellerman asked, poking his head inside the study.
“Keep alert tonight. I’m sure there won’t be any further trouble, but I can’t afford to take chances. I didn’t realize how determined that woman was.”
“Sure thing, boss. Good night.”
Kellerman locked the front door, checked all the windows in the front of the house, then went to the back of the house, repeating the process. Before he reached the back door, he was distracted by a kitchen maid who had caught his eye some time ago. She was alone, the kitchen empty but for the flirtatious girl. When she gave Kellerman a provocative smile and twitched her hips at him, the brawny but not-too-bright bodyguard forgot everything but the aching bulge in his trousers. Grasping the girl, he kissed her hard. When she didn’t object he kissed her again with gusto. After a few clumsy caresses he bent the girl over the kitchen table, flipped up her skirts, and thrust himself into her.
For the next two hours he pounded his desire into the willing girl he’d lusted after since spying her in McAllister’s kitchen. Both he and the girl were pleasantly exhausted when they parted. The maid took the back stairs to her quarters, and Kellerman went to his own room. The kitchen door had been forgotten and remained unlocked.
Sometime later a shrouded figure let himself in through the rear entrance. He moved silently through the kitchen and down the hallway. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, for he moved unerringly toward McAllister’s study. He opened the door noiselessly and stepped inside.
&nb
sp; He saw McAllister sitting in his chair before the hearth, his head resting on his chest in slumber. Though his steps were nearly soundless on the thick carpet, McAllister must have sensed a presence for he opened his eyes just as the intruder raised a gun to his head.
“You!”
That was the last word McAllister ever spoke. The gunshot reverberated sharp and deadly through the stillness of the night. The assassin didn’t wait to see if he’d killed his prey, there was no need. The blood and gore splattered on the wall behind McAllister was proof enough. Dropping the gun on the floor, the killer turned and quickly pried open the window, flinging himself through it and onto the ground below. The drop was a short one and he rolled once, gained his feet and sprinted off into the dark night.
Kellerman awakened to the sound of a gunshot exploding in the night. Several minutes passed before his dazed mind realized what it was that he had just heard. It occurred to him that he hadn’t been vigilent enough. He found McAllister’s body slumped over in his chair, and his brains splattered nearby.
“The damn bitch,” he cursed as he headed out the door to summon the sheriff.
Belle slept late and arose feeling battered and bruised. While bathing she found several places on her arms and legs that had been scraped bloody. She supposed she had gotten them when she was thrown bodily from McAllister’s house. There was even a raw place on her face that she wouldn’t be able to hide from Naomi. She sighed despondently and turned her thoughts to Tommy. That one glimpse of him had been worth the small injuries she had suffered. Her heart ached when she recalled how he had clung to her and begged his grandfather not to hurt her.
She couldn’t imagine what had gotten into her last night. Taking the gun from Naomi and brandishing it before McAllister had been stupid and utterly self-defeating. What did she hope to gain? Even if the gun was unloaded it was still considered a weapon. Since she no longer had the gun she’d just have to explain to Naomi what she had done and listen to the lecture that was bound to follow.
Naomi was waiting for Belle in the parlor. The madam took one look at the scratches marring Belle’s face and arms and threw up her hands in defeat. “Where were you last night? Look at you! What did McAllister do to you?”
