Flora's Wish (11 page)

“No you don't,” McMinn said as he came up behind her to wrap an arm around her waist. “No escapes out the window, Miss Brimm. I don't have the patience for it today.”

“Unhand me. I was merely reaching for this.” She jabbed him with her elbow just enough to cause him to release her. “Here,” she said when her fingers caught the fabric.

It was her bookmark. But how did it get on the ledge?

Mr. McMinn holstered his gun and gave the ribbon a cursory glance before once again pressing past her. “Come on.”

Flora ran her hand over the embroidered edge before tucking it into her reticule alongside the still-attached handcuff. “Mr. McMinn,” she called to his retreating back. “Can't we renegotiate this?”

“This?” he asked over his shoulder.

“This.” She nodded toward the handcuff still on her wrist. “Truly, what is the purpose—”

“The purpose is to find your friend Mr. Tucker. I don't see as how we'll do that here, so come with me while I'm still of a mood to only make you wear the one cuff.”

“Where are we going?” she asked as she hurried to keep up.

“Downstairs. And while we're heading that way, you need to think long and hard whether your fiancé ever used any aliases, because I guarantee there won't be a Will Tucker registered as a guest here.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked as they stepped off the elevator into the lobby. “I still think you're wrong about him.”

She had also begun to believe she was wrong about his premature demise. Surely this was all an unfortunate case of miscommunication that could easily be remedied.

Flora stepped up to the desk and rang the bell. A moment later, the desk clerk appeared around the glass. “I am inquiring as to the room number of a certain gentleman. Mr. Will Tucker, please.”

“Will Tucker,” the clerk echoed. “Sure, I remember him.”

“So he did check in under his actual name. How about that?” Flora turned to give her captor a triumphant look. He ignored her.

“Are you sure?” Mr. McMinn asked. “Tucker's a common name. This fellow's about my height. Slender build. Blond hair. Blue eyes.”

“They're green,” Flora corrected.

The Pinkerton agent ignored her as he waited on the desk clerk's response.

“Isn't hard to remember someone when they just checked out,” the clerk said. “But the lady's right. His eyes were green.” He offered Flora a smile. “I guess ladies usually notice these things, but I tend to—”

“He checked out?” Mr. McMinn glared at Flora. “You knew he was going to run for it. That's why you wanted to go to the post office.” He turned to stare down the clerk as he produced his badge. “How long ago and where was he headed?”

All the color drained out of the man's face. Flora knew the feeling, for she felt the same. Still, she clung to the hope that there was an innocent explanation to Mr. Tucker's sudden disappearance. Likely a break in the case that had kept him occupied up to today.

Yes, that was it. The idea of her intended racing off to solve some sort of trouble with the Frisco Railroad bolstered her confidence and caused her knees to still their shaking.

“How long?” Mr. McMinn repeated, his voice low and insistent.

“Probably twenty minutes ago,” the clerk stammered. “And I'm sorry, but as to his destination, he didn't say. Seemed in a hurry, though.”

McMinn let out a long breath and leaned toward the clerk. “I need a place where Miss Brimm can wait for me. Someplace private and secure.”

“I'm sure I can find—”

“That won't be necessary. I will wait for you in my suite, Mr. McMinn. And I insist you return quickly.” She gestured to the hidden handcuff. “For obvious reasons.”

“You will do nothing of the sort. For obvious reasons.”

The clerk adjusted his cap. If he had any inkling of the issue between them, the man gave no indication. “What if I put Miss Brimm in the accountant's office? He's out for the day.”

“Has he locked up all the money? I don't trust her farther than I can toss her.” His wink was more irritating than the ridiculous statement.

Flora swept past the two men, her head held high. “I'll have the manager's office. He appears to be out as well.”

“Yes, Miss Brimm, he is,” the clerk said. “At least for an hour or two. But I don't know…”

Flora ran her finger over the spines of the books on the shelf behind the manager's desk. Choosing a slim volume of Longfellow's poems, she slowly turned to face the men standing in the doorway as she settled behind the desk as elegantly as she could manage. The lawman might hold the advantage legally, but she was a Brimm of the Natchez Brimms, and as such she would remain unflustered, even in the face of possible incarceration.

Not that she completely believed he would turn her over to the sheriff. And even if he did, the stolen property charge was absurd. Still, she offered him a sweet smile that belied her thoughts.

“I don't think I'll be intruding on the manager's hospitality long. Will I, Mr. McMinn?”

“You'll be here until such a time as I or the sheriff comes for you.” He patted his vest pocket and then turned his attention to the clerk. “What is your name?”

“Henry, sir.”

“Well, Henry, should she attempt escape, feel free to shoot her.”

At Flora's gasp, the poor clerk's eyes widened. “Sir, I don't think I could possibly—”

“It was a joke, man.”

Mr. McMinn shook his head as he walked toward Flora. Placing his hands on either side of the desk chair, he rolled her out of the way and opened the desk drawer to produce a sheet of hotel stationary. Grabbing the pen from the silver desk set, he wrote a name on the paper and then folded it in half and carried it back to the clerk.

“Do you know this fellow?”

Henry unfolded the page and then nodded. “Yes, sir, I do.”

“He should be here at the hotel somewhere. Go find him and bring him here. Hurry.”

“But who will see to things at the desk in my—” At the lawman's glare, he hurried away, leaving Flora alone with the perturbed Pinkerton agent.

“I understand why you're thinking I had something to do with Mr. Tucker's departure,” she said when the weight of the lawman's stare became too heavy to ignore. She traced the edge of the Longfellow book with her index finger and thought of the mystery of the pink bookmark in her reticule. “But I assure you I am as surprised as you that he has supposedly left the hotel.”

A dark brow rose. “Supposedly?”

“Under the circumstances, I have to wonder if there is more to the story than the clerk's offhand recollection.”

“It didn't sound like an offhand recollection to me.” He shifted positions to cross his hands over his chest. Someone rang the bell out at the front desk, but he ignored it. “What do you think is going on?”

She simply shrugged as she silently sorted through the possible reasons, all related to whatever investigative work caused his tardy arrival. Perhaps that also led to an early departure. To admit she knew any of this, however, might breach a confidence and possibly threaten an ongoing case.

Again the bell rang. This time Mr. McMinn turned around, showing Flora his back. The thought occurred that she might possibly slip past him and escape. But to where?

She let out a long breath and opened the book of poems. Better to read about the forest primeval than to invoke the man's ire any further.

The clerk returned alone and muttered something about the man in question that Flora only partly heard. Perhaps he was late, or was it that he would be due in soon? In either case, the men spoke to each other in low tones, occasionally stealing glimpses of Flora she pretended to ignore.

As the door closed behind them, she set aside all pretense of attention to Longfellow and his Acadians. Suddenly evading Grandmama and her minions did not seem like so grand an idea. If only one of the Brimm spies clothed in servant's garb had been watching closer.

Perhaps Father's offer of a bodyguard should have been accepted, his insistence on being careful of her personal safety heeded. Flora sighed. Nothing could be done to change things now.

She moved quietly toward the exit, skirting the edge of the desk and the bookshelf to touch the doorknob. To her surprise, the door flew open and she stood nose-to-nose with the desk clerk.

“You gave me such a fright!” Flora said as she took a step backward and slammed into a chair.

“You didn't help my ticker much either, Miss Brimm. Mr. McMinn says I'm to watch you until his man shows up.” Henry shrugged. “Me, I don't see what he's worried about, you being a woman and all. And I do have plenty to do already without adding guard duty to the mix.”

Flora offered her sweetest smile. “You're a busy man. I can certainly see that.”

“Well, I am at that.” He adjusted his cap and stood a notch taller. A second later someone on the other side of the glass partition rang the bell. “I need to see to a guest. You won't run off and get me in trouble, will you?”

“No, of course not,” she said, though she wished it were possible. “I'll be fine. You just do whatever it is you need to do.”

He gave her a nod and hurried over to attend to what appeared to be pressing business with someone on the other side of the glass. As Henry inclined his head toward the customer, Flora moved to the doorway to look around.

The enclosure was nothing more than a narrow hall with a wall that was half wood and half window on one side. The glass had been frosted so as to hide the lobby from the offices, or perhaps the opposite was true. In either case, she could easily walk around without being seen by the hotel guests. On her right stood the clerk and what she could only presume from this vantage point was an overlarge hotel safe. To the left she spied the door that provided the only means of escape.

“Need something, Miss Brimm?” Henry called as he stepped into view.

“No, thank you. Don't worry about me. Just go on about your work.”

He looked at her for another moment and then turned back to the counter where a stack of papers now drew his attention. Flora waited only long enough to see that he had become fully engaged with his task before she moved slowly toward the door.

Before she could touch the handle, the door flew open. “Oh, so sorry, miss,” a red-haired fellow said. “I didn't expect to find anyone on the other side there.” He nodded to Henry as he pressed past her, and, for a second, Flora considered reaching out to stop the door from closing. However, when she saw one of her grandmother's maids standing only a few feet away, she panicked.

Explaining to Grandmama why she wore a handcuff would be trouble enough. Finding a way to remove it, more trouble still. Especially given the issue of an arrest warrant.

Flora sighed. Better to stay and wait rather than seek an easy exit. For she was innocent of everything but planning a wedding without informing her family. For that she would plead guilty.

Now to pray her fiancé arrived at the church on time.

“Seamus, tell the lady what you told me.” Henry paused. “Seamus is the wire operator.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Well, there was this fellow. A nice man but in a hurry, he was.” Seamus the wire operator reached for the stack of papers and was sorting through them. “Yes, here it is. He told me to throw this away if he wasn't standing right there when I finished sending it. I was going to, but I figured I'd wait to see if maybe he came back for it.”

Flora shook her head. “I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with me?”

Henry took the paper from Seamus and walked over to hand it to Flora. “It's a receipt for a telegram. Name sound familiar?”

She glanced down at the recipient. “Jack Wilson. No, I don't know this man.”

The clerk shook his head. “Not him. I meant the sender.”

Flora returned her attention to the paper. On the bottom of the page was the unmistakable name of Will Tucker. The telegram's text was cryptic at best:
Full steam ahead.

Had she intercepted some sort of important statement pertinent to a railroad investigation? Or was this some other coded message? Either way, only Mr. Tucker knew the answer.

Her heart racing, she looked past Henry to Seamus. “Can you tell me the location where this was received?”

“Natchez Under-the-Hill. The man is the telegraph officer, I believe.”

She clutched the paper. “I wonder if I might keep this.”

“Keep it?” He looked perplexed. “I don't know, ma'am. I'm supposed to be saving it for Mr. Tucker.”

“Actually, I believe you said he instructed you to throw it away should he fail to return for it. So I'm sure he would be most happy if I delivered it to him personally first thing tomorrow morning.” Flora paused. “He and I have a previously arranged appointment.”