Diane T. Ashley

by Jasmine

  Camellia met him at the front door, her hair an uncontrolled mass of curls around her face. The frightened look in her blue eyes told him how concerned she was about Jasmine. “Thank you for coming.” She sat in one of the rockers and motioned for him to sit next to her.

  David shook his head. He would rather stand. “I don’t have long, so why don’t you tell me what happened.” David braced himself. As Camellia told him about the day Jasmine disappeared, he asked a few pertinent questions. The more he heard, the more his exasperation overcame his concern for Jasmine’s safety. She didn’t take time to think how her selfish actions would affect others. When would she ever grow up? He paced the length of the front porch. “Have you had any word since she left?”

  Camellia shook her head. “I feel so guilty for what I said to her. If only I’d been more understanding or less caught up in my own needs …”

  David didn’t hide his snort of disgust. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Camellia. Jasmine has no excuse for causing you all this worry. What did Lily say?”

  “She doesn’t know.” The confession was a bare whisper.

  “You have to tell her.” David sat next to Camellia and took her hands in his own. “Don’t worry about her response. Lily isn’t unreasonable. She’ll understand you had no control over your little sister. Besides, she loves both of you. She won’t blame you any more than I do, but she may have an idea of where Jasmine would go. And she can check for any word of her up and down the river. A lot of people know Lily and Blake. Contacting all of them and warning them to watch for Jasmine may be the easiest way of locating her.”

  Camellia nodded. “I—I just don’t know what to say to her.”

  “I know it’s hard, but you can do it.”

  She surprised him when she pulled her hands free and stood. Even more so when she wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug. “I’m glad you came. I know you’ll find her if anyone can.”

  Her words caged him as securely as a prison cell. Before the door could lock him in, he pulled away from her. He was determined to keep his wits about him in spite of the warring desires in his heart. “I don’t have much time to devote to the search, Camellia. As soon as I leave here, I’m going to investigate a robbery at Planter’s Bank in Vicksburg.”

  She gasped, and the blood drained from her face. “Oh no. My friend Jane is married to an officer of that bank, Harold Baxter. Please tell me no one was hurt.”

  “I wish I could.” David hoped her connection to the man at the bank would help Camellia understand why he couldn’t devote all his time to finding Jasmine. He had to keep his priorities in order. “I don’t know any details yet. But I’ll make it a point to visit your friend and ask her to send you a note telling you more about the robbery.”

  Camellia nodded slowly. Her blue eyes shone like glass. “I’m so proud of you, David. I wish you and Jas—”

  “I really have to get going.” David cut her off before she could finish what she’d been about to say. No one wished for a match more than he. But Jasmine had other ideas about what to do with her life, and he had to respect her decision … no matter how ridiculous it was. “Either Mrs. Baxter or I will be in touch soon.”

  “I’ll pray for both of you.”

  David returned to his rented nag and rode back to Natchez Under-the-Hill, relieved to see that the captain had honored their agreement. He’d already lost enough time. He wanted to find and arrest the bank robbers and return to Chicago. He would refuse any new assignment in the lower Mississippi Valley. Spending time close to the Anderson girls was tearing his world apart. He felt like a ship foundering among the hidden snags of loyalty and devotion. One day he was liable to wash up on a sandbar—broken and abandoned by both the job he felt called to do and the woman he adored.

  “You’re going to play the part of Lady Montague.” Vance Hargrove acted as though he offered her the moon.

  Jasmine balanced on a stool, the gold skirt of Miss Barlow’s ballroom costume spread around her. She had been reattaching the flounce when Vance found her, a tedious task that Clem said was needed on a daily basis.

  She put down the needle and tried to summon a gracious smile for his sake. But it was beyond her acting ability to hide her disappointment. Her first appearance on a real stage would be as Vance’s mother. And she knew Romeo and Juliet well enough to know that she would only have a line or two.

  “Aren’t you excited?” The light in his dark eyes dimmed. He glanced around the prop room, his gaze searching for an ally. “Clem, tell Jasmine what a big break this is. She’ll be onstage.”

  “This is a big break, Jasmine. You’ll be onstage.” Clem parroted the words from the other side of the costume trunk.

  Jasmine hid a grin at her friend’s lack of intonation.

  “I see how it is.” A frown marred Vance’s handsome face. “You think you’re above such a small part. I suppose you think you should take Miss Barlow’s place as Juliet.”

  “I’m excited, Vance.” She tried to convey an enthusiasm for the breadcrumb he offered.

  “I worked hard to get Mr. and Mrs. Easley to give you this chance.” His mouth turned down.

  Her heart sank at the disappointment on his face. Vance was being sweet and thoughtful. She had no right to trample on his kindness. “I’m sorry. I suppose it’s a little overwhelming to think of going onstage so soon.”

  She ignored Clem’s grunt. Clem had little respect for any of the actors. She was constantly pointing out to Jasmine the advantages of working with the production instead of reaching for fame as an actress. She might be right, but Jasmine wanted the adulation of the audience. She wanted to be sought after. She wanted her name on the playbills passed out in the town as advertisement.

  Vance took her arm and pulled her off the stool. “Come with me.”

  “What happened to the actress who was supposed to be playing Lady Montague?” Jasmine asked the question as they left the lower floor of the barge.

  Vance led the way, his long legs taking the steps two at a time. “She’s too drunk to stand up. Mrs. Easley told her to get off the boat. So see, this is the perfect chance for you to be able to perform regularly.”

  Jasmine tried to hide her surprise. A drunk actress? She’d never dreamed of rubbing elbows with women who drank alcohol. Maybe that’s why Lily had been so worried about her. But her oldest sister should know she would never do such a thing.

  Vance halted suddenly and turned to face her. “Things have been hectic, but I want you to know how often I think of you, Jasmine. This is your chance, you know. Once you get on that stage, I know you’ll be on your way to stardom.”

  Her bruised heart healed a little from the warmth of his words. “Thank you.” She could swallow her disappointment. Vance was doing what he could. Maybe when they left Vicksburg, he would be able to spare some time for her. Maybe then—

  Her thoughts ended abruptly when Vance gripped her arms and yanked her off balance. She fell against his chest with an audible oomph, and before she realized what was happening, his lips covered hers. Shock kept her still for an instant, and he took full advantage, slathering her face with his wet, soft mouth. It was like being kissed by a fish. Her mind and her body reacted violently to his assault. Twisting and pushing, she forced her elbow into his stomach, gaining her freedom when he stepped back.

  “Mr. Hargrove.” Jasmine put all the disdain she could manage into the two words, raising her hand to wipe the disgusting wetness from her mouth.

  “I thought you felt the same for me as I do for you, Jasmine.” He tried once again to pull her close.

  This time she was prepared. She stiffened her arms and shook her head. “I hold you in high esteem … but I’m not some fancy woman you met in a tavern.”

  “Of course not.” He dropped his grip on her and hung his head. “Don’t you know how I feel about you? Don’t you know how your beauty—your radiant innocence—drives me mad? ‘Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures pr
ove.’ ”

  Christopher Marlowe’s poem was one she had loved as a young girl, thinking it the height of romance. But he needed to understand that she wasn’t about to let him ruin her.

  Borrowing from the same poem, she answered him. “ ‘I don’t need beds of roses or a cap and kirtle.’ “With her nose in the air, she pushed past him to the stage door. Fame was awaiting her.

  “Take your place upstage, Lady Montague.” Mr. Easley’s words were accompanied with a lift of his chin.

  She scampered toward the back of the stage, thankful that she knew enough to understand his direction. Two other actors were center stage after the fight scene between the two families. Listening intently, she stepped forward as Benvolio ended his speech. Her heart pounded. “O, where is Romeo? Saw you him today? Right glad I am he was not at this fray.” The words flowed out of her mouth with exactly the right emphasis and tone.

  As Benvolio answered her question, a movement to her right caught her attention. Vance blew her a kiss just before he stepped onto the stage.

  A moment more, and it was over. Lord Montague called her away, and they walked off the stage. “Well done.” The older man, Stan Mitchum, one of the stock actors who played the smaller parts, sent her a smile. “You’re a natural, honey.”

  The praise made her glow. Clem found her and dragged her back to the prop room so her costume could be altered. Then it was time to grab a bite to eat and get dressed for the performance.

  As soon as the farce ended, Jasmine took her place behind the curtain. The chorus—two women—were already on stage and would soon introduce the audience to the blood feud between the Montagues and the Capulets. Miss Barlow, dressed in the resplendent gold ball gown with its newly attached flounce, stood nearby.

  Between them, the men rushed forward, their swords raised. It seemed only a moment later that Lord Montague whisked her onto the stage. She faltered for a moment when she saw the number of people in the audience. It seemed every seat was taken. Mesmerized by the reality, she missed her cue and silence filled the stage.

  “Hold me not,” Lord Montague shook the arm that she had barely managed to retain her hold on. “Let me go.”

  Jasmine’s gasp was loud as she realized what had happened. “Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.” At least her gasp fit the part of a distressed Lady Montague concerned for her husband’s welfare.

  The scene played out without further incident. Vance, looking handsome in a crimson doublet and hose, winked at her as he returned to the stage.

  She was in heaven as she exited and took the opportunity to glance once more toward the audience. What she saw made her heart drop to her toes. Jane Baxter, Camellia’s best friend from the finishing school in New Orleans, was seated in the front row.

  Had Camellia’s friend recognized her? Jasmine tried to tell herself it wasn’t possible. The heavy stage paint they wore disguised her features. And Jane wouldn’t expect to see her here. As Jasmine stripped off her costume and returned to helping Clem with the other actors’ costume changes, she decided Jane could not have recognized her. She was safe for now.

  “What did you think?” Clem’s curious voice gave Jasmine something else to concentrate on besides her fears.

  “It was wonderful. I was born to be an actress. It was a small part, but the audience liked me.”

  “I heard you flubbed your first line.” Miss Fenwick appeared in the doorway. “Do you have my green dress ready?”

  Clem shook her head. “It’ll be in your room by the third act.”

  “I’ll not be pushed aside for Vance’s latest trinket.” Miss Fenwick glared in Jasmine’s direction. “If she can’t have my clothes ready on time, she’ll have to give up acting. She wasn’t hired for that purpose anyway.”

  “If you would stay away from those French pastries, we wouldn’t have to keep letting out your dress.” Clem shook a finger at the actress. “Go away before I tell Mrs. Easley that Jasmine should study for your role.”

  Miss Fenwick’s mouth opened and closed several times, but apparently she didn’t know what to say unless the words were scripted for her. Her face turned an ugly shade of red, and she turned on her heel.

  Jasmine met Clem’s gaze, and a giggle forced its way past her throat. Soon they were both laughing, tears streaming from their eyes.

  Clem sobered first. “We’d better get back to work, or Miss Angelica Fenwick will have a real reason to complain. I don’t want to lose the best friend I’ve had in years.”

  Grabbing her needle and scissors, Jasmine nodded and looked around at the pile of material. “How long will we stay in Vicksburg?”

  “We have to perform in Memphis on Thursday, so we’ll probably leave tomorrow after the early show.”

  Jasmine was relieved. Perhaps Jane had not recognized her tonight, but if she ran into the woman in town or if Jane attended another performance, she would be caught. The sooner the Ophelia left Vicksburg, the more likely she could remain hidden.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Did you see any of their faces, Mr. Baxter?” David asked the bank manager, even though he thought he already knew the answer.

  A slight man with hair as white as a field of ripe cotton, Mr. Harold Baxter exuded an air of quiet competence. His hair must have grayed prematurely, because he looked only a few years older than David. He carried himself well in spite of the empty sleeve of his jacket. David wondered if he had lost his arm during the war and which side he might have fought for.

  “Please call me Harry. That’s what everyone around here calls me. Some of my fellow employees don’t even know that my given name is Harold.”

  “All right, Harry. Now, about their faces?”

  “The lower parts were hidden behind handkerchiefs.” Harry frowned. “But they seemed to know exactly where to go, as if they already knew the layout of the bank.”

  “We think they spend some time in town, slipping in and out of the area while they learn what they need to know. Hours of operation, security, and the number of employees to name a few.”

  “You think I’ve seen them before?”

  “It’s quite likely.” It was the only theory David could imagine. The bank robberies were too smooth. He had first believed they might have inside help from someone who worked for the bank, but these robbers had struck banks from Chicago to New Orleans. No one could have acquaintances associated with that many banks. What was the connection? The elusive “Ophelia” was the most obvious answer. He closed his notebook and stood. “Please think about the past few days carefully. Any new customers? Or perhaps your tellers might remember someone who has been hanging out in your lobby for the last week or so. Any little detail to help me catch these men.”

  “I’ll be glad to, Detective.” The other man stood and walked around his desk. “I want you to catch those scoundrels as much as you do.”

  “Thank you.” He hesitated before going to the door. “I do have something else I wanted to mention to you, Harry. It’s about your wife, Jane, and a friend of hers.”

  “Oh?”

  David cleared his throat. “Yes. Camellia Thornton is a close friend of mine, and she was concerned about you and Jane when she learned of the bank robbery. I wish you would ask your wife to send her a note. I would send word, but I know she’ll want to hear confirmation directly from Mrs. Baxter.”

  “You’re a friend of Camellia’s?” Baxter’s face was warmer than it had been during their interview. “I insist you join us for dinner this evening. Jane will skin me alive if she discovers a friend of her old schoolmate is eating alone.”

  “Thank you, but I’m afraid I have work to do.”

  “I understand that, but you must find time to eat … if not tonight then another evening.” Harry clapped him on the shoulder.

  Realizing he couldn’t refuse without sounding churlish, David inclined his head. “Thank you, another night would be better.”

  “Good. How about this Thursday? That should give you time to wrap up th
e most pressing of your business.”

  After receiving directions to the Baxters’ home, David left. He had a lot of ground to cover.

  Over the next several days, David met with the police, who had no additional information, and spent hours interviewing the proprietors and patrons of businesses close to the bank. No one had heard of Ophelia, and no one had noticed any strangers hanging about. How did these men manage to hide in plain sight? What magic did they use to pass freely through the town and escape notice? It was frustrating to find no evidence … again.

  David was beginning to doubt his ability as a detective. He should be able to pick up the trail of at least one of them. So far, the only mistake they’d made was letting Charlie Petrie get caught. And they’d remedied that by killing him.

  On Thursday evening, he returned to the hotel, pulling his extra coat from his bag and smoothing it with a damp cloth. He hoped it would pass muster tonight. Jane and her husband were obviously as wealthy as Jasmine’s family.

  Since the address was not too far from the hotel, he decided to walk. David wanted to turn away when he arrived at the Baxters’ home, a graceful three-story mansion that was the largest house on the street. But it was too late. David stiffened his shoulders and climbed the front steps. The porch provided a panoramic view of the Mississippi River, and a cool, steady breeze teased his coattails as he waited at the front door.

  A butler ushered him inside, took his card, and guided him to the main parlor. “Detective David Foster.”

  After the announcement, the man stood aside, and David entered the parlor. The room looked like a garden brought indoors. Images of roses graced the wallpaper, the curtains, and the rug at his feet. A large vase on the table in the center of the room was filled with fresh roses, their fragrance filling the air.

  He saw Harry first, and then his wife—a tall, slender woman with hair as red as the roses she apparently loved. She walked toward him, a welcoming smile on her face. “Detective Foster, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”