West of Paradise (12 page)

Chapter Sixteen
The Apple

L
eavenworth Times, August 30, 1881

Alanna McLeod, notorious thief and murderess, was finally captured in Fort Leavenworth after nearly five years on the run, only to escape the long arm of the law yet again with the help of her long-time lover and partner in crime, Will Cushing. According to Deputy Callahan, Miss McLeod was taken unawares by one Jack McCabe, bounty hunter, and would have been brought to Abilene to face justice and a trial. However, before Mr. McCabe reached his destination, he was ambushed by Will Cushing and left for dead. At this time the whereabouts of Alanna McLeod and Will Cushing are unknown although there is speculation they are heading east.

❧

Alanna read the clipping again, and then the letter that had come with it. A small frown turned her lips and she set the papers aside, her gaze diverted to the street below.

The day was bright and sunny, pleasantly warm. The humidity of the past week had been washed away by a quick passing downpour that had left the streets clean and the air fresh. She had opened all the windows that morning and set Mrs. Pratt to beating the rugs. Together they had made a good start on the floors and got the curtains hung. There were only a few crates left to unpack and she had thought they might be finished before supper. Then the post had come.

Who was she? Who was this person with Will they all thought was her? Someone who looked like her. Someone willing to pass herself off as a famous thief.
A thief of names
, Alanna decided, not liking it. And Will, what was he doing with her? Why had he helped her?

Will Cushing. She almost said his name aloud just to feel the taste of it on her lips. Yes, she missed him, in all truth. He had been an excellent lover and smarter than he let on, possessing a sharp wit that nearly matched her own. No one since had quite been able to take his place. Not that there hadn’t been contenders, but it was so much more difficult now. After all, she was a proper young widow with a small child. She couldn’t very well have a parade of men coming and going—much as she would’ve enjoyed it. Such affairs had to be conducted with discretion and by necessity tended to be brief. It was a shame really; Will would’ve been much better company.

Alanna sighed and turned away from the window. Her little William peered up at her from the floor, towheaded and serious. He was waiting for an answer to a question she hadn’t heard, his small hands wrapped about a floppy rabbit. It would not do for Will Cushing to find her. It would not do at all. She read the letter once more:
Suggest you might be more comfortable outside the city. Have heard it may become unbearably warm. —LS

Her eyes narrowed at the suggestion of leaving, her lips pinching together as she imagined putting things into boxes. Her eyes found William again, who smiled up at her and she crumpled the piece of paper.

There would be no leaving, she decided. Things were different now. She had little William now. She may not have wanted him but she had grown fond of him after all; she planned on seeing he had what he needed. And right now that included her. The trouble was there was this thing called the past coming back to haunt her.

A wry smile crossed her lips. Her grandfather would appreciate the irony. Once he had thought himself above reproach, beyond the rules and mores of ordinary men. He could do as he wanted, no matter how perverse, without repercussion. Her return had set him on his heels. It had been hard not to gloat.

“It’s simple really,” she had said to him. “You will welcome your widowed granddaughter home with open arms, make up whatever story you please, and provide me with a suitable monthly allowance. In exchange I will be quiet and good and stand at your side at every charitable function you care to attend.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Why, I know a number of people who would be very interested in hearing my confession. You know the public, how they love lurid tales. Especially one about an heiress turned outlaw.”

His face had turned purple and he’d glared at her without the least bit of affection, as if she were a stranger and not the granddaughter he’d molested for five years. She stared back at him, triumphant.

“I see you’ve grown clever and bitter,” he said.

“I am what you have made me,” she replied, handing him the card of her solicitor.

“I cannot change the past,” he said. “No one can.”

His reply had come soon after, along with a draft on his account, which allowed her to set up house.
And the agreement had been quite fair
, she thought. He had only added a single stipulation of his own; namely, that he be allowed to visit with William once a month. She had almost reconsidered everything at that, not wanting him to have anything to do with her son. But while she might be bitter she was not stupid and so agreed to the visits.

Yesterday had been one of them. They had sat on the lawn, watching William feed the ducks. She found her grandfather less unpleasant now that he had no power over her. He made small talk, played with William, and gave him a new toy, a wooden train with a string. Last time it had been a music box that played a march. It occurred to her now that while she might not care much for her grandfather, he could be useful. She showed him the news clippings while William romped with his new toy.

Alastair McLeod gave a snort after reading, placing the clipping on the table between them. He looked at her, his blue eyes cool, a wry smile on his lips.

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” she said.

“Oh, yes. I know who you are, and what you’ve done in some foolish effort to avenge yourself. You think I didn’t know? That I didn’t guess?” He shook his head. “I know who you are, Alanna.”

“Well, then, if you’re so clever, tell me what to do now.”

“Ah, now you have need of me. Very well, I shall tell you, though I must say I’m surprised you haven’t thought of it yourself. Kill her, this woman who has your name and your face. Kill her and this Will Cushing. Then she’ll be dead and you can go back to being Rose.”

“Just like that,” Alanna said.

“Just like that,” her grandfather answered.

Alanna was silent, considering. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t killed before, and who better to kill than some woman pretending to be her? But there was Will to consider. She didn’t particularly want Will dead. Not really.

“Kill her,” her grandfather repeated, adding, “and anyone else who knows.”

Chapter Seventeen
The Parker House Hotel

K
atherine made a survey of the suite, making the bellboy wait while she inspected the two bedrooms first, noting with approval the beds, both of which appeared comfortably appointed. The damask spreads were of excellent quality, and there was a beautiful French armoire in the blue room.

She was surprised by the cleanliness of the floors considering the lack of electrical appliances. Even the mullioned windows were free of dust and dirt. The sitting room was spacious, furnished simply with a velveteen camel back sofa and two wing chairs upholstered in gold chintz. French doors opened onto a private patio overlooking Tremont Street. In the marble foyer a Queen Anne side table stood against the wall, a silver dish for cards sitting next to a vase of fresh cut roses and gardenias.

Katherine turned to the bellboy still waiting patiently in the foyer. She smiled and withdrew her purse, handing him a quarter. The boy’s eyes widened. It was too much, Katherine guessed, probably more than the boy saw in a week.

“Thank you. This will be fine.”

The boy pocketed the quarter and hastened away, perhaps afraid she might ask for change given another moment. She closed the door and looked at Will.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

Will nodded. “Classy,” he said, adding, “Alanna would like it.”

“Did you stay in nice places with her?” Katherine asked.

“A few times, but mostly it was cheap places where we wouldn’t be noticed.”

“And she didn’t mind?”

Will gave a shrug. “She did, but she didn’t go on about it.”

Katherine nodded. “Do you have a preference for rooms?” she asked.

Will shook his head. “It’s your money; you choose.”

“I’ll take the blue then, you can have the gold.”

Will dragged her trunks and valise into the room she’d chosen. She immediately began to unpack, hanging the gowns in the armoire and folding the small clothes before tucking them into the dresser. She took note of the bell cord and decided then and there that the first order of business would be a bath, a long hot bath, with soap.

Two hours later she emerged clean and feeling almost human again, dressed in an olive green cloth dress with gold braiding and matching green shoes. She found Will sitting in one of the wingback chairs, which he’d moved next to the open French doors, with a glass half-full in his hand. She guessed it was the whiskey he’d bought at their last stop—something to make the journey more pleasant, he said.

He was watching her, a curious expression on his face.

“What is it?” she asked, a little unnerved.

“If I ask you something will you tell me the truth?”

She hesitated too long.

“I guess not,” he said.

“No, I . . . I’ll try,” Katherine said.

“Fair enough.”

“What is it?”

“How come you’re doing this? I mean, you have enough money, you could just get on a boat, go anywhere.”

Katherine looked at him, wishing she could tell him the truth, and Will, as if sensing a lie coming gave a shrug. “Never mind,” he said, taking a long swallow.

“No, I’m sorry,” Katherine said, pouring herself a glass and taking a seat on the sofa.

“Look,” she said after fortifying herself with a big sip of the whiskey which she guessed to be about a hundred proof or more by the taste and the burn. “I’m not used to this, any of this. I never had to worry about anything before being mistaken for Alanna. Now suddenly my whole life is suspect. The only way for me to get my life back is to bring Alanna to justice. I’m sorry if I can’t tell you more or explain any better; but unless I clear my name I have no future, and I mean that in the most literal sense you could possibly imagine.”

Will studied her. “All right then. I guess you’re serious,” he said, tipping the glass and swallowing the last.

“Is that all you wanted to know?”

“More or less,” he grinned and reached out his hand. “Partners, then?”

Katherine didn’t hesitate this time, placing her hand in Will’s and shaking it. “Partners,” she agreed.

❧

“Hmm, yes, I think I have.”

Jack almost didn’t hear the words, prepared to say his thanks and move on to the next prospect. He had been to dozens of establishments over the course of the week, from the markets at Faneuil Hall to the shops in Cambridge. He was beginning to tire, and his gentleman’s demeanor was fading fast after nearly seven days. The suit he wore was uncomfortable at best, and thus far everyone he had spoken to had shaken their heads and said pretty much the same thing: ‘Sorry, haven’t seen them.’

Until now.

Jack studied the doorman, an overweight fellow with a polite smile.

“They’ve been here since the second, I think. The Demphsies.”

“Are they in now?” Jack asked.

“No, they went out this morning. I expect them back for supper—unless they go to the theater. Shall I give them a message?”

“No,” Jack said, pressing a bank note into the man’s hand. “I’d prefer to give them the news in person, if you don’t mind.”

“As you like.” The man bobbed a nod and stuffed the note into his pocket.

Jack left, walking down to the corner where George waited with the carriage. “Let’s get a bite to eat, George,” he said.

George nodded, waiting for Jack to settle himself before giving the reins a shake.

They ate down by Long Wharf, dining on haddock fried over an open fire and hot fruit pies. They didn’t speak except to compliment the food, looking out over the water at the ships docked and those anchored further out. The harbor had been busy with the fair weather of summer but soon, Jack knew, the cold winds of late autumn and winter would reduce traffic to the experienced, the wealthy, and the desperate. Jack had yet to leave the shores of the Americas though he’d been sorely tempted.

After their supper they returned to the hotel, where George found a spot up the street to park while Jack went in search of a place from which to observe. It was still well before supper, but he wanted to be settled long before they might show up.

This turned out to be a good idea.

He hadn’t been there more than a half hour when Will and Katherine alighted from a carriage and entered the hotel. Jack recognized her immediately.

She was dressed in the latest fashion: a green dress with one of those fancy feathered hats sitting at a jaunty angle. Will Cushing was at her side, dressed in a nice suit similar to the one Jack wore. He didn’t look much like his picture, being both taller and leaner, but he had a watchfulness about him Jack recognized.

Jack waited until they went inside then walked down to where George had parked. He directed George to a place where he would have a view of them leaving. He waited all night, but neither Katherine nor Will emerged again from the hotel, and Jack knew he was going to need either a better plan or an inside man.

“I don’t suppose you know anyone who works there, do you, George?” Jack asked hopefully.

“No, not personally,” George answered as the first light of day came creeping up over the city, “but I recognize the night watchman.”

“Oh?”

“He has an unsavory past. Name’s Donald Braden.”

“Describe unsavory,” Jack asked.

“Oh, you know, sticky fingers, that sort of unsavory.”

“Ah,” Jack said. “Perhaps I’ll have a word with him then, after his shift is over, of course.”

“Of course,” George agreed, adding, “We wouldn’t want to interrupt a man at his work.”

“Certainly not. That would be unkind.”

George smiled.

❧

It was a little after eight o’clock when the night watchman was relieved by his counterpart. Jack let him get halfway up the street before intercepting him.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Donald? Donald Braden?”

“Who’s askin’?” The man gave Jack a suspicious glare and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Jack spread his own hands wide and offered the friendliest most non-threatening smile he could muster. “I’m not asking for trouble. I’m only hoping for a little information.”

“What kind and why should I?”

Jack continued. “Well, it has to be reliable, and as for why, two reasons: one it will be profitable, and two you’ll keep your job with none the wiser about your . . . shall we say past endeavors?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about mister an’ if you don’t get out of my way . . .” Donald brought out the knife Jack expected.

“Donald, let’s be clear,” Jack said in the same calm voice. “You, no doubt, would like to keep your job at the Parker House Hotel. I need information, information you are privy to. If we work together we will both be happier, if you get my drift.”

Donald paused, thinking for a moment before asking, “How much?”

Jack gestured to his coach. “Why don’t you put the knife away and we can step into my office and discuss the particulars.”

Donald hesitated but not for long, and soon he and Jack came to an arrangement whereby Donald would tell Jack everything he knew about the couple of interest. The first thing he revealed was the fact that they had tickets for the opera
Carmen
at the Boston Museum Theater.

“Friday night, eight o’clock,” Donald said.