Parlor Games: A Novel Part 42

I'd dressed in my warmest attire-my black gown with fluted collar. After easing my fur hat over my coiffed hair and donning my moleskin coat and leather gloves, I led Tokyo out the front door, down our shoveled walkway, and onto the sidewalk. A short distance behind me I discerned the idling of an automobile, but strolled along as if I cared not a jot. Over the course of the trial, I'd granted a few interviews to newspapermen who had staked me out, but I was in no mood to talk to them this morning, let alone allow them-or Dougherty-to sniff out my imminent departure.

I ambled to the end of the block, the snow on the walkway creaking and crunching underfoot. Turning back, I could see, three doors down from the house, the auto's gray fumes billowing against dawn's eerie pink; it was one of the ubiquitous black Model T's driven by Menominee's few taxi drivers. I pretended indifference, not wishing to attract attention or raise suspicions. When I turned up the walk to our front door, the driver made no move. Still, I didn't like the looks of it-a taxi parked in clear view of the house the morning after the trial's conclusion.

I found Gene in the kitchen in a red flannel shirt and baggy wool pants, his hair pillow-flattened in back and sticking out on top. As Tokyo scampered up to him, I asked, "Everybody still sleeping?"

"I guess," he said, standing at the stove and warming the kettle and his spread-out hands over the flames.

I extracted the baby announcement letter from Helen and David O'Neill from my purse and showed the envelope to Gene, pointing to its Chicago postmark. "Some friends are keeping my money for me. But you mustn't tell anyone where I'm going."

He kept his hands open to the blaze. "What about Daisy?"

"I left her a note. Can you bring the car up to the back door?"

He swung around to face me. "And what do I tell Paul?"

"That I've gone to get the money."

"He won't believe that."

"You have to trust me, Gene. It's our only chance."

"Let me wake Paul up and see what he says."

"No, if I miss this train my plan won't work. I'm the only one who can retrieve the money."

"You promise you're telling the truth?"

I gripped his shirtsleeve and looked up into his eyes. "Yes. Now, hurry."

We loaded up my three suitcases. As our car turned onto the street, I ducked down in the front seat.

"What in the world?" Gene asked.

"I thought a reporter might be lurking about."

"No, no cars around."

I righted myself. "Oh, I thought I saw one earlier."

We reached the train station near the tail end of boarding time. After I purchased my ticket and the attendant loaded my suitcases onto the wagon, Gene accompanied me to the platform.

I knew I might never see him again, but I couldn't pour my heart out to him. I dropped my travel bag down and, gripping Tokyo's leash, reached my arms around him. "Love you, little brother."

He leaned over to hug me, but his grip was limp. "Will you send the money or come back with it?"

"I can't say yet."

Gene released his hold. "When will we hear from you?"

"Give me two weeks."

The stationmaster hollered, "All aboard."

"You better get going," said Gene.

I grabbed my case and stepped up into the car. As I coaxed Tokyo up the stairs, I turned toward the platform. Gene stood just as I'd left him, groggy and slump-shouldered. I waved to him. He lifted his hand to elbow level and opened it to a lackl.u.s.ter wave. Poor Gene. What did he have to look forward to now but dreary Menominee?

To conserve funds, I'd taken a second-cla.s.s seat, which I straightaway found and settled into, removing my hat and coat and turning to the window. I was in no mood for conversation. All the money I had to my name was a meager $1,863. I had left Daisy word to await my instructions. Soon I'd no longer be able to afford her services, and she'd eventually make her way back to New York, but I'd not go there. In fact, I'd get as far away from here as I could. Look at this countryside-nothing but snow-covered fields and logged-out woods as far as the eye can see.

Here and there, we whisked past isolated farmhouses, so similar one could be forgiven for picturing their inhabitants as paper cutouts of men a-milking in dungarees and pink-cheeked wives bustling about their kitchens. And had someone ordained that they all paint their houses white and their barns red?

No, I thought, even Canada is too close. Nor would I get near the war in Europe, especially with the United States about to enter the fray any day. I'll cross the Pacific, find some haven to make a fresh start, and tell no one of my whereabouts. Forty-seven is not so very old. My figure is still pleasing, my hair mostly brown.

A voice startled me out of my reverie. "Why, Baroness de Vries."

I looked up. Reed Dougherty's gaunt face loomed over me. My G.o.d, might he foil my escape? What I wouldn't give to make him disappear. If only Daisy were with me, we could plot to throw him in a ditch. I summoned a cool "Good day, Mr. Dougherty."

"Would you care to accompany me to the dining car? I'll gladly buy you breakfast."

Would I never be free of this cursed man, with his bent for inserting himself in my life at the least opportune moment? He'd obviously been watching me from the taxi this morning. "You are too kind," I said. "But I really have no appet.i.te."

"Surely you wouldn't mind a cup of coffee."

"My apologies, Mr. Dougherty, but it is the company I would mind."

"Come, now. There is a little detail we really must discuss. It'd be a shame to dine alone when we could be enjoying lively company."

There was no hiding from him now-or the latest "little detail" he intended to hara.s.s me with. I herded Tokyo into his traveling case and rose from my seat. No words pa.s.sed between Dougherty and me as we shuffled through the swaying cars.

"Are you sure you won't eat anything?" Mr. Dougherty asked once the waiter visited our table.

My stomach had awakened, and I decided I might as well allow Dougherty to buy my breakfast. "Perhaps some griddle cakes to warm me up. And coffee."

Mr. Dougherty ordered eggs and potatoes and began his questioning, as I knew he would.

"Might I ask where you're bound?"

"Of course you understand I have some business to attend to."

"Ah, yes, perhaps there are some a.s.sets you must sell?"

"What business is it of yours, Mr. Dougherty?"

"It's only fair to inform you that Miss Shaver has secured my services."

"Frank did not learn of you from me. You must have contacted her."

"On the contrary, it was she who contacted me."

Our coffee arrived, and I stirred a generous helping of cream into mine. "I don't believe you."

Dougherty drank his black. Raising the cup to his narrow lips, he said, "Have I ever deceived you, madam?"

"In fact, you have. The very first time we met."

"Yes, of course." He put on a rakish sneer. "I plead guilty. In the line of duty and all that."

"So why should I believe you now?"

"If you must know, Miss Shaver learned of me through Dr. Whidbey's London detective."

"And straightaway hired you?"

"No, she only hired me yesterday, after the verdict came in."

"So you traveled all the way up here just in case she might hire you?" That seemed odd. I couldn't help but wonder if Ernest too had hired Dougherty. "Or are you also in Dr. Whidbey's employ?"

"No, but I learned some very interesting things during my London visit."

"What happened in London has no bearing on the current situation."

"I couldn't say that. But my foremost concern is the money you owe Miss Shaver."

"Why do you think I left town?"

"You mean other than to jump the judgment?"

"I'm going to secure the funds."

He took a sip of coffee and wrapped his hands around his cup. "And I'm going to make sure you do."

I sighed, to show how tiresome I found this line of conversation. "You needn't worry."

The waiter wheeled the tray to our table and slipped our breakfast plates before us.

I studied Dougherty's face. He still sported a mustache and beard, which no doubt hid some of the age lines creeping onto his long face. For the first time I noticed gray tingeing the dark hair at his temples. "Have you a family, Mr. Dougherty?"

"A wife, but no children."

"What a shame. I'm sure you would make a wonderful father."

"I hardly make a good husband, traveling as much as I do."

I extracted my napkin from under my silverware. "Perhaps one of these days you'll settle down."

"Not in the near future."

"Then I'm sorry for your wife. She must miss you terribly when you travel."

He shrugged, as if embarra.s.sed at being found out.

"Why, look," I said, "you traveled all the way to Menominee before you'd even secured the case."

"My employer did, of course, approve the trip." Dougherty took up his knife and fork.

"And do I have him to thank for this breakfast?"

"My dear Baroness, when did you ever question who was paying your way?"

"Why, whenever I suspected their motives."

He tossed his head back in laughter. "I truly have missed our chats. Please, do enjoy your breakfast."

I hadn't planned on Dougherty's watching over me like a devoted dog the whole train ride. He probably intended to hound me until I paid the fifty-seven-thousand-dollar judgment, and I simply couldn't allow him to corner me. I had purchased fare no farther than Chicago, to allow myself time to determine my next destination, but hadn't told him I intended to stop there.

After I alighted from the train and gathered my luggage for taxi transport, Dougherty approached.

"Baroness de Vries, you weren't going to leave without saying good-bye."

"How could I be so rude?"

"Are you staying long in my fair city?"

"Yes," I said, hoping to throw him off my trail. "I intend to stop a few weeks to see to some business matters."

"And might I ask where you're staying?"

"No, you may not."

"My agreement with Miss Shaver requires me to keep you in my sights."

"That won't be necessary. I understand I must abide by the court's judgment."

"You have proven yourself a most dangerous woman, a woman not to be trusted."

"Claiming I'm dangerous is merely a means to feather your nest. You, sir, are the height of perversity." I signaled to the taxi edging toward me.

"You know if you don't produce the money the house and your brothers' automobile business will be taken over by the court?"

I turned away from him and reached for the cab door.

He cut between me and the auto. "Do you really want to drag your own flesh and blood down with you?"

"You needn't interject yourself in my affairs, Mr. Dougherty." I stepped around him.

He turned on his heel and clapped a hand on the cab door. Reaching into his inside suit pocket, he extracted a folded paper and, one-handed, flapped it open. "I have here doc.u.mentation of the insurance money Lloyd's paid out on your yellow-diamond necklace, a necklace you happen to be in possession of."

Blood rushed up my neck, into my cheeks, over my forehead. I felt my ears might explode from the pressure.