Flora's Wish (13 page)

For as little as he knew about women, he could see that this one was protecting Tucker. Whether the affection was mutual would soon be apparent.

Lucas stepped off the elevator and headed for the Brimm suite. Propriety demanded he bring along someone else as a chaperone, but at this point Lucas cared less for reputation than for getting the job of finding Will Tucker done. This was an investigation and not a social call. Investigations meant all bets were off when it came to reputations.

And it was just as possible that Tucker had doubled back and was hiding in the Brimm rooms as it was that he'd hightailed it out of Eureka Springs.

Lucas stopped in front of the door and drew in a long breath, letting it out slowly in hopes of diverting some of the aggravation that was eating at him. Failing that, he placed one hand on his revolver, pounded twice, and then called, “Flora Brimm, open the door this minute.”

That did the trick, for in far less than a minute the woman he'd once thought of as Blue Eyes opened the door. “Must you make a scene, Mr. McMinn? Hurry and get in here before anyone sees you,” she said as she stepped back to allow him to enter.

He glanced around at the marble fireplace where a fire burned bright. To the right was a corridor that led to a bedchamber. From this vantage point Lucas spied a canopy bed with curtains matching the ones on the parlor windows. Behind those curtains he could just make out a pile of neatly stacked pillows. A carpet embroidered with roses crossed the distance from the bed to where he stood, marching past to end at another door down the hallway to the left.

Tucker could be behind that door. Or he could be watching from the other chamber. A second cursory glance around the parlor revealed no place for him to hide other than possibly behind the drapes. Palming the revolver, he walked over to snatch them back.

Satisfied the criminal wasn't hiding in the window hangings, he moved carefully toward the open bedchamber door. The room was decidedly feminine, as were the belongings strewn across the bed and lined up in colorful jars and containers across the dressing table.

A plumed hat sat atop a tall dresser. Beneath the windows, which had been thrown open to allow the fresh breeze to ruffle the curtains, was a chair that held a Bible. Numerous slips of paper, as well as a pink ribbon, looked to serve as bookmarks.

Something about the ribbon seemed familiar, so he picked up the Bible and found the spot where it lay. As he ran his hand down the length of the pink fabric, he recalled Miss Brimm capturing one just like this off of Will Tucker's window ledge.

In his line of work there were no coincidences. And Tucker's room being one floor below was certainly not by chance.

“Just how close are you and Mr. Tucker?” He replaced the bookmark and set the Bible back in place and then peered out at the ledge. While there was no physical evidence of a connection between the two rooms, Miss Brimm had already exhibited her ability to ignore heights to stroll on a ledge. Perhaps she had taught that same skill to the scoundrel.

Or learned it from him.

“This is my private bedchamber, Mr. McMinn,” she said, her voice high and strung tight. “Not only is it quite improper that you're in here, but your presence is also an invasion of privacy.”

He affected an amused look, though the thought of Flora Brimm and Will Tucker in collusion made him feel anything but entertained. “You're not going to answer my question? That in itself is an answer, Miss Brimm.”

“Not at all. I am merely demanding that we hold this conversation elsewhere.”

Lucas ignored her to search behind the curtains and under the bed. Nothing but an errant shoe was hidden there. Straightening, he nearly collided with his hostess.

“Truly, sir, what are you doing?”

He nodded toward the bed. “Finding a lost shoe, apparently,” he said as he went past her to move quietly back down the hall and across the parlor toward the second bedchamber.

Holding his revolver at the ready, Lucas turned the knob. The door slid open on noiseless hinges to reveal a limited view of a room similar to the other.

Unlike the other chamber, however, the curtains had been pulled tight to shut out the sun. The result was a room set in shadows, but a space that did not hide Will Tucker, he determined after throwing open the curtains and conducting another thorough search.

Stepping back into the hall, he shut the door and returned to the parlor.

“All right,” Miss Brimm said. “If you're satisfied that we're alone, let's get this over with.”

He swung his attention to her as she walked toward him, her wrist extended. Oh, but she was pretty. A man less inclined to recall her association with the outlaw Will Tucker might have allowed that beauty to sway him.

Not Lucas.

He shrugged off any thought of the woman's exterior and considered instead the request she was making. “Not just yet,” he said as he stepped past her to walk toward the windows. “You have a mighty fine view of things from up here, Miss Brimm.”

He turned to face her and found her staring, hands on her hips and the lone handcuff glittering beneath the wagon-sized crystal chandelier that marked the center of the parlor ceiling. She looked madder than a wet hen, not that he could blame her.

Still, he reminded himself, this was Tucker's woman. And whether it was in name only or some kind of setup concocted by the two of them, she was still tied to the man Lucas had vowed to hunt down.

“He's not here, but I have a reason to believe Tucker hasn't left town yet.” He waited for her reaction and saw that her expression didn't change. Either she'd known it or she had suspicioned it. “You don't look surprised.”

She shook her head as she crossed her arms over her waist. “I could have told you he wasn't here, so no, I'm not surprised.”

Lucas found the nearest seat and made himself comfortable. After giving her just enough time to start fussing again, he looked up at her, schooling his features so that she could not guess his thoughts.

“All right, Miss Brimm,” he said in his best country boy drawl. “I'm going to ignore your obviously deceptive response. Instead, I am just going to ask once more. Where is he?”

Her face went red and her fists clenched. Lucas was completely sure if she'd been holding something, she would have already thrown it at him. Instead, her eyes narrowed and her breath heaved.

“Honestly, I wish I knew, but I don't.”

Though he didn't want to believe her, Lucas's gut instinct told him she was telling the truth. “Any idea why he might have hightailed it out of here?”

“Anything I say would just be a guess.”

“Then guess.”

Flora looked beyond him a moment as if she might be chewing on an idea. “All right,” she said as she swung her gaze to meet his again. “In his line of work, he is often called away on short notice. I assume that is what has happened here.”

“Assume,” he repeated. “But you don't know this for sure?”

She shook her head. “No, but if you really did hear any of our earlier conversation, you would know he promised to go to his room and stay there until tomorrow morning.”

“And that wasn't some kind of code for—”

“Mr. McMinn, really! Do I look like some sort of spy? It wasn't code for anything.”

He'd met his fair share of spies, and though he'd never tell her this, she would have made a fine one. No man in his right mind would believe that a woman with her looks and class would ever be anything more than she professed.

“Fair enough. And what line of work is he in?”

“It's not for me to say,” she replied demurely.

“Even if it meant you were impeding an ongoing investigation?”

She sighed. “He works for the railroad.”

A plausible response. From what he had gathered, Tucker tended to pick his women from stops easily accessible by railroad or steamboat. “What does he do for the railroad?”

“I would prefer he be the one to tell you.”

Lucas watched as the expression on the woman's face softened. If she knew anything incriminating about Will Tucker, she gave little indication of it.

He shifted positions just enough to allow a good view of both the door and a reflection of the windows in the mirror over the fireplace. Either were possible points of entry—or exit. “Then why don't you tell me how Tucker managed to escape?”

“I am going to pretend you haven't just insinuated that I am somehow complicit in Mr. Tucker's absence.” She let out a breath. “Rather, I will assume that in your ignorance of me you have made a misstep. Would you care to rephrase your question?”

“No, I don't think I do. And for the record, I don't mind you knowing I believe you have information about Tucker you are withholding.”

“I am withholding nothing of any value to your investigation, Mr. McMinn.”

“I would prefer to make that determination, Miss Brimm.”

The crimson on her cheeks made her eyes all the bluer. He tried not to think of how she felt in his arms as he danced with her across the ballroom.

She shook her head and then moved across the room to settle herself in the chair nearest him. From where he sat, he could almost touch her. He could also see what appeared to be fear in her eyes. “Then we will just have to agree to disagree. Now about these handcuffs. Do you mind?”

Lucas leaned forward and caught a scent of something sweet. Lilacs?

Slowly his gaze met hers. Before he could respond, she pointed at him. “Don't say it. Yes, I know you mind. Yes, I know you haven't found Mr. Tucker. However, I am willing to give you access to him tomorrow if you will just allow me two things.”

Finally the truth. “And they are?”

“First, of course, is for you to remove these ridiculous handcuffs.”

“And the other?”

“I wish to be married.”

“Well, I should hope so.” A distinctly elderly and female voice from the vicinity of the parlor door spoke the words sharply.

Lucas stood so quickly his chair fell backward. When he got himself untangled from the furniture, he found Millicent Meriwether Brimm peering up at him with what appeared to be a combination of amusement and curiosity.

“Grandmama? I…I thought you were with the general's wife.”

“I changed my mind. I felt the beginnings of a sick headache and decided halfway there to return home and send my apologies instead.” Without taking her eyes off of Lucas, the matriarch of the Brimm clan reached behind her to close the door. “Flora, dear,” she said, turning now to her granddaughter. “Where are your manners? Your young man and I have not been introduced.”

“Really, Grandmama. This is not who you think—”

“I'm Lucas McMinn, Mrs. Brimm.” Sometimes a man finds opportunity, and other times opportunity finds him. Lucas grinned as he made his way across the parlor to the opportunity of a lifetime. “Pleased to meet you, ma'am.”

She accepted his hand, though her gloved fingers barely grazed his palm long enough to call it any sort of a shake at all. Lucas had met a few folks with royal titles. If this old gal didn't have any, it wasn't because she couldn't pull off the look.

“My pleasure indeed,” she said in a smooth-as-magnolias tone. “And it appears my granddaughter has already told you of me.”

“No, actually I have not.”

Lucas could see some of Flora's pretty features in the older woman, though time had softened the blue in her eyes to the color of faded denim. Just enough of the original hue remained threaded through the lady's fashionable hairstyle to attest to where Flora came by her copper curls.

Apparently she had also inherited her grandmother's temper, for Millicent Brimm was giving her granddaughter a wait-until-I-get-you-alone look. Had he not been watching closely, Lucas might have missed it, because by the time Mrs. Brimm returned her attention to him, she'd pasted a smile back in place.

“So, Lucas McMinn. I understand there is to be a wedding.”