Robbie mumbled something about not needin’ a keeper and slunk through the shadows, presumably to do as he was told.
Cade went back inside. With Robbie’s warning fresh in his mind, it was easy to spot Warner deal a card from the bottom of the deck. Cade was stunned that he hadn’t noticed before. He had not grown up on the ruthless streets of Chicago without learning a thing or two about con games, thievery of every kind, and sleight of hand. It was hard to believe that he hadn’t noticed earlier that Warner was cheating. Cade realized he’d grown soft during the months he’d been away from his work. But now that he’d seen the truth with his own eyes, he couldn’t be silent.
“Sir,” he said, deciding that the man would not resort to violence with so many people about. “It appeared to me that you dealt that card from the bottom.”
The good humor vanished from Warner’s eyes and his nostrils flared in anger. He shoved back his chair with so much force that it turned over. He stood, trembling with fury. Whether it was feigned or real was hard to say. “Are you calling me a cheat?”
Cade rose to his feet with slow deliberation, his gaze focused on the violator’s hands on the off chance he tried to reach for a weapon. “I’m telling you that I saw you take a card from the bottom and give it to Mr. Jeffers.”
“No one calls me a cheat, you blasted Irishman!” Warner grated, following the hateful words with a swing toward Cade’s head.
The closeness of their bodies made protecting himself hard, but he managed to get one arm up in time to ward off the brunt of the blow, which grazed his cheekbone. Then taking a step back, he swung a solid left to Warner’s solar plexus and followed with an uppercut that laid him on the floor.
He did not get up.
Cade stared at him, silently cursing his stupidity and knowing that if William Pinkerton got ahold of this bit of information, his days with the agency would be good and over. There would be no third chance. A hearty back slap jolted him from his thoughts.
“Good job, Sullivan!” the merchant, Jeffers, said. “I’d figured out the man was a professional, and I thought I’d seen him dealing from the bottom, but I wasn’t certain. Quite frankly I wouldn’t have had the guts to confront him the way you did. That’s quite a right you have!”
The man’s words eased Cade’s mind somewhat, but he knew he’d have to make a full report of his actions to William Pinkerton.
The owner came out from the back, demanding a full accounting. Everyone’s version of the story made Cade out to be a hero and Warner to be a cheat. Satisfied that things had come aright, the owner had two burly patrons heave the gambler to his feet and shove him out the door into the street.
Sick with worry even though the heartfelt thanks of his fellow poker players still rang in his ears, Cade broke his promise to himself and ordered a beer.
* * *
Lilly had left the lamp turned low and was just drifting off to sleep when she heard Cade coming down the hallway. When he opened the door he found her propped up on one elbow, waiting for him.
“I thought you weren’t going to be late,” she said, and could have bitten off her tongue. She sounded like a shrewish wife.
“Things got interesting,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and unlacing his boots.
She was about to ask what he meant by that when a whiff of smoke and cheap perfume clarified everything. Memories of Timothy came rushing back, and along with them, a memory of Colleen strutting around MacGregor’s in her satin robe, telling Lilly in a self-satisfied voice that Timothy owed her for three nights.
“You’ve been to a tavern.”
Cade drew the shirt over his head. The lamplight glistened on his chest and shoulders. “What?”
“You’ve been to a tavern,” she repeated.
“Wrong.”
“I can smell the smoke, and . . . and perfume.”
“I haven’t been to one tavern, lass. I’ve been to several.”
“And you’re drunk.”
He smiled a crooked smile. “I am not drunk. Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson about that. My friends bought me a single brew after I flattened a cheater.”
She gave a little gasp. “You’ve been fighting?”
He frowned. “And if I have? What’s it to you? Why are you actin’ like a jealous wife when ye’ve got no claim on me? You’re not even sharin’ my bed.”
“And I never will!”
He leaned toward her, so close she could feel the disturbing warmth radiating from his bare torso.
“Never say never, lass,” he warned as he had once before. “Life has a way of makin’ ya eat yer words.”
He straightened suddenly and began to toss his bedding to the floor, all banter gone. He was the prickly, sour, and serious agent once again as he stripped off his trousers and tossed them to the foot of the bed. Though he wore thigh-length undergarments, Lilly did her best to keep her gaze averted.
“I went around to some of Henri’s favorite haunts tonight, looking to find a game. I hoped to get a better sense of what he’s like away from his day-to-day routine.”
“That shouldn’t have been hard.”
“No, but I was hopin’ to find a particular game with a particular player.” When she frowned, he explained. “Bernard told Robbie that he’d overheard his da tellin’ his ma that Henri lost a lot of money to a cardsharp on Wednesday night.”
Cade stretched out on his pallet and folded his hands behind his head. Lilly leaned over the edge of the bed. “And did you find him?”
“I found someone. I’m not sure it’s the man Henri played with, but he was definitely a cheat.”
Even in the semidarkness Lilly noted the discoloration on Cade’s face. “Did he do that to your cheek?”
He reached up and rubbed his fingers over his cheekbone, a rueful expression in his eyes. “I suppose he did.”
“What will William say if he finds out?” she asked, suddenly worried about this new complication.
“He’ll find out, because I intend to tell him.”
“You’d tell him, even though you know it may be the end of your career?” she asked, aghast at the notion.
Cade shrugged. “I shouldn’t have hit the pretty boy.”
“Did he take the first swing?”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point.”
“Surely the Pinkertons won’t penalize you for standing up for yourself. And you were working at the time, not carousing.”
He offered her a strained smile. “I appreciate your loyalty, wife. We’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”
She was too troubled to be upset by his sarcasm. “Tell me what happened.”
He sighed and stared up at the ceiling, as if he could see the entire evening playing out in the shadows. “I’d been to some other bars, and this was the last of Henri’s haunts I planned to check. I joined a friendly game of poker, and we’d been playing awhile when this peacock asked if he could sit in.”
“Peacock?”
“Yes, a fancy-dressed fella who gave me a real bad feeling.”
“In what way?”
Cade’s forehead puckered in thought. “He seemed too . . . slick. It wasn’t long before he started mopping up, and I started figuring him for a professional, and a cheat to boot. Robbie called me outside and told me the gent was dealing off the bottom of the deck.”
“Robbie!” Lilly cried. “You told me he wasn’t going with you!”
“Don’t take off my head, colleen. I wasn’t planning on it, and I didn’t ask him. He followed me. So when I called the man out on it, he took a swing at me.”
Well, at least Cade had had provocation, Lilly thought. Surely the agency would take that into consideration. And now that she’d been talking to him for a while, she could tell that he was not drunk at all. “What did you do?”
He shrugged. “Coldcocked him. The owner came, and the other players backed up my story. Timmy boy was thrown out, and I doubt he’ll be welcome there again.”
Lill
y felt the blood drain from her face. “Timmy? The gambler’s name was Tim?”
“Aye,” Cade said, frowning up at her. “Tim Warner. Why?”
Suddenly feeling light-headed, Lilly put a hand to her brow and moaned, a terrible sound that seemed to come from her very soul.
“Are you all right?” Cade’s voice sounded far, far away. A part of her recognized that he was regarding her with an expression of concern, while another part of her was trying to make sense of her disbelief. What were the chances that something like this could happen? Had happened? Timothy was here, in New Orleans. Cade had played poker with him. What were the odds, really?
“Lilly?”
She gave her head a shake to clear her thoughts and forced herself to rein in her emotions. “I’m fine,” she said in a no-nonsense voice. “Just a bit . . . taken aback for a moment.”
“You’re not fine. What is it? Do you know him?”
“Not as well as I thought I did,” she said, meeting his gaze squarely. “Tim Warner is my husband.”
CHAPTER 13
Although not many things fazed Cade anymore, he wondered if her announcement left his mouth hanging open in shock. “Your husband?”
“Yes,” Lilly said tartly. “I assumed the Pinkertons gave you some background on me when they decided we should work together.”
“Aye, they did. I knew you were married and the chap took your savings and left, but they didn’t give me a name. Why don’t you go by Warner instead of Long?”
“I’m using my maiden name because I started divorce proceedings before I left Chicago, and I want my former name back. The sooner I can be rid of anything connected to Tim Warner the better.”
Cade propped his head in his palm, his elbow on the pillow. “D’ya want to tell me about him?”
Lilly thought about that a moment. She had no desire to tell Cadence McShane her deepest, darkest secrets, but now that this had happened, it made sense that she should at least give him a sketchy idea of what had happened with Timothy, on the off chance that something like this cropped up again.
“Not particularly,” she confessed with a weary shake of her head, “but maybe you should know.” Her voice was sad and low-pitched as she started with how she’d met Timothy at the train station, how he’d swept her off her feet, and how they were married in a month’s time. She told him of Tim’s gambling, his manipulation, their constant arguing, and finally, how he’d physically attacked her and Rose the day he’d stolen her savings.
“I went to one of his favorite taverns, but he wasn’t there and hadn’t been in more than a week,” she told him. “It seemed I wasn’t the only one trying to find him.”
Cade arched a quizzical brow.
“The police had been in earlier looking for him, and not only did he owe another customer money from a poker game, but he owed one of the tarts for services rendered.” She met his gaze in defiance. “Her name was Colleen.”
Lilly could see by Cade’s expression that he now understood why she was so adamantly against being called Colleen.
Lilly flung her legs over the side of the bed. “Now, I want you to take me to this place so I can confront him.”
“He isn’t there. He left before I did,” Cade said. “In fact, after I hit him, a couple of guys threw him into the street. He must have come around, though, because he was gone when I left about twenty minutes later.”
The indignation drained from her. “I should have known it was too good to be true.”
“I’ll go back tomorrow and see if I can find any trace of him anywhere.”
“I want to go with you.”
“Lilly. Lass, ya have to stop acting without thinking things through. D’ya really think it’s wise to go off on your own business in the middle of an assignment? I may already be in hot water over what happened tonight, so if the agency pulls me from the case, you need to be here to finish up. Besides, it’s best if you stay out of things and let the lawmen do their job.”
The fact that he wanted her to be able to stay on the case eased her fears that he would try to take over and gain all the glory when it was solved. It seemed McShane was a professional after all. But none of that changed how she felt about confronting Tim.
“I want to talk to him.”
“Why?” Cade challenged. “What would you say to him if you saw him?” He shook his head. “It would serve no good purpose.”
She gave his questions and conclusion serious consideration. “You’re right. I’ve always been impulsive, which is the only reason I had the courage to interview with the Pinkertons,” she admitted. “Impulsive and hardheaded. Pierce and Rose have warned me about these faults of mine for years.”
He felt the corner of his mouth lift in a half smile. He identified with her more than she might think. “It’s been my experience that thinking things through is crucial in our line of work. Unfortunately, it’s one of those traits that develop with age, and you’re very young yet.”
“And are you so ancient?”
“It depends on what day it is.”
She chewed on her lower lip, and he saw the hint of worry in her dark eyes. “Will you really tell William what happened, then?”
“I have to.” With that, he lay back down and turned away from her, indicating that the conversation was over. A few seconds later, she blew out the lamp.
* * *
When the room was quiet, Lilly lay still, listening to Cade’s slow, even breathing and trying to ease the tension binding her. She thought if someone touched her she might shatter. Tim. In New Orleans. Or maybe by now he was already headed for some other distant place.
It seemed her soon-to-be ex-husband’s approach to life was to find a new town, someone he could sucker in a card game, and, just possibly, a woman naïve enough to influence with his considerable charm. Then when he’d cleaned her out or she started getting wise to him, he moved on.
Oh, how she’d like to meet Tim face-to-face one more time, but deep inside, she knew Cade was right. She needed to leave it alone and let the police do their jobs. She would report him to the authorities on her next trip to town. Or maybe Cade would find him first.
She heard Cade snore softly, and her heart dropped at the thought of the agency’s reaction to him getting into another barroom fight. Would they fire him a second time? For good? As much as she’d complained about being paired with him, the thought of not having him around was upsetting. There was something to be said about having a partner working different aspects of a case, watching out for you when things got unpredictable, and just knowing you had a backup if you needed one.
Hardly a day passed that she wasn’t reminded how ill-equipped she was for the job she’d finagled her way into. William and Robert Pinkerton, Pierce, and Cade all said she was too untried by life. She knew she was too reckless, too apt to act on a hunch or a whim instead of waiting to see what the facts might be.
And she was a woman.
When she’d answered the Pinkerton ad in Chicago, she’d been spurred by righteous indignation, impulse, and hurt feelings. As much as she hated admitting it, William was right in forcing her to work with Cade until she became more experienced. There were days she felt as if all the cards were stacked against her, but despite feeling out of her depth most of the time, she loved what she was doing, even though there was certainly nothing glamorous about it. Cade was shoveling manure and she was working in a hot kitchen and doing housework.
She reminded herself that she was doing something worthwhile. Every time she saw Henri and heard the condescension in his voice, she felt in her bones that there was more to him than what he presented to the world. The validity of his medical license would prove her feelings one way or the other. Whatever happened, she hoped Cade was around to help finish the investigation.
* * *
When Cade awoke the following morning, it was too early to rouse Lilly. He dressed as quietly as possible and left the room. His mind was filled with her confession about her past and
her connection to Tim Warner. Maybe someday she’d go into more detail, but at least now he understood why she’d sought a position with the agency and why she was so bitter toward men.
Cade had trouble picturing Warner and Lilly as a couple. He supposed women would think the gambler was handsome, but he was too smooth by half. On the other hand, while Lilly’s fiery red hair and pretty brown eyes were certainly enough to draw the interest of most men, there was that sharp tongue for a man to deal with. Cade didn’t see her as the type to appeal to the gambler. He wondered if Warner had even been aware of the gentle heart she protected with those sharp barbs. The softness was something she seldom allowed to show, but he saw it whenever she looked at Robbie or pitched in to help Lamartine without being asked.
He suppressed a smile at how she bristled every time he called her colleen. After hearing her story, it was no wonder she hated the name. He supposed he had no choice but to refrain from calling her that in the future, but he would miss seeing the anger blaze in her eyes.
However, recognizing and even admiring her good qualities didn’t make him any happier about being saddled with her, but after watching her in Vandalia and working with her here, he’d be the first to say that she needed someone to guide her. She was as green as grass when it came to detecting, but she gave it everything she had. Sometimes she gave it too much. Like when she’d taken it upon herself to put a plan into motion without talking it over with him first, like contacting her longtime friend.
He admitted to being curious about this Wainwright fellow, who’d been both father and mentor to Lilly. If he was even half what she claimed him to be, he’d be a good one to have poking around the hospital to see what he could learn. They needed something to take them in a new direction. Some thread to start unraveling this whole unseemly mess.
After a week, they had little to go on. There was not one shred of evidence to prove that Henri had deliberately sent his wife to the insane asylum to get his hands on the Fontenot money. Suspicions would not hold up in court, or bring Patricia home.
Though This Be Madness Page 13
