Flora's Wish (24 page)

“You're joking, right?”

Green eyes met her blue ones, his expression unreadable. “Do I look like I'm joking? Trust me, there's no need for any sort of diversionary tactics, Miss Brimm. Not right now.”

“Oh, go on. I'll just make an inquiry of the desk clerk.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I won't leave the building.”

He looked beyond her to the checker players and then nodded. “Fine. I won't be long.”

“Good. Please hurry.” She waited until the door closed behind him before making her way to the front desk. “Henry, could I have a word with you?”

“Of course, Miss Brimm.” He grinned. “I figured you would be along soon. He said you would.”

“Excuse me?”

“That fellow you were talking about yesterday.” He nodded. “You know. The one you and that Pinkerton fellow were looking for.”

“Mr. Tucker?”

“That's the one. He was just here.”

She leaned closer to be certain she'd heard the ever-so-helpful desk clerk correctly. “What do you mean he was just here?”

“You just missed him, ma'am, not five minutes ago.” He punctuated the statement with a wink. “He seemed awful insistent I look out for your arrival.”

She ignored familiarity. “Where is he now? That is, where did he go?”

“He slipped out those doors.” He gestured to the rear exit. “He said those two fellows at the checkerboard were deputies hired to keep him from an important appointment.”

Flora's heart sank. Of course. Mr. McMinn had told the truth.

“But he told me you might try and follow him if you showed up, and I'm to see that you don't.”

“Thank you,” she said as she turned toward the back of the hotel. A covert glance at the two men told her they were now watching her intently.

“Miss Brimm?” When she ignored him to pick up her pace, the clerk caught up to fall into step beside her. “Miss Brimm, Mr. Tucker left something for you.” He looked around and then back at Flora. “I probably ought to go on back to the desk before I give it to you. We wouldn't want to draw any attention, you know.”

“Why? What is it?”

He opened his coat just enough to show Flora a slip of white paper tucked into his pocket.

“Is that a note of some sort?”

“Can't say.” He shrugged. “I don't ask questions of another railroad man, Miss Brimm. That wouldn't be right. So how about you and me walk over there, and I give this to you all casual-like?”

Flora cast one last look at the exit doors and then nodded. “All right,” she said as she followed him back to the front desk.

While he went around to return to his position, Flora waited. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Mr. McMinn speaking to the same doorman who had handed her over to be handcuffed just yesterday. The checker players had now gone back to appearing engrossed in their game, though Flora doubted they truly were.

“Miss Brimm!” The hotel manager emerged from his office to reach across the counter and shake her hand. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence this morning?”

Flora forced a smile. “I…that is, I was just told I had a message at the desk.”

“Yes, well, let me check the mailbox for your suite.”

The clerk palmed the slip of paper from his pocket, placed it on the counter, and then pushed it toward her. Flora put her hand over the envelope and tucked it into her sleeve.

“I'm sorry but I don't see anything—” The manager saw the clerk and stopped short. “Ah, you've returned, Henry. Did this lovely lady receive any messages?”

“Messages?” He appeared to be thinking. “No, sir. I don't think so. I'm sorry.”

“Well, there you have it,” the manager said as the clock behind him chimed the quarter hour. Nine fifteen. “There must have been some mistake. If you'll excuse me, I have a pressing appointment. Give my regards to your grandmother,” he said as he donned his coat and hurried away.

“Thank you,” she said to the clerk once the manager was gone.

Again he winked. “Anything for a fellow railroad man.”

The flirtatious gesture made Flora want to call the manager back and report the man. Instead, she smiled conspiratorially. “You won't tell anyone about this, will you?”

“Me? Of course not.” He pressed both palms over his heart. “Who am I to stop the course of true love?”

True love. If only that were the case.

“Again, I give you my most sincere thanks.” Flora hurried off to find a spot where she could read the note unobserved. She found just the place by slipping behind the kitchen door.

Unlike last night, the kitchen was bustling with activity this morning. Flora pressed her back to the nearest wall to keep out of the way of the staff and reached into her sleeve to draw out the message.

Her fingers shook as she unfolded the page. To her surprise, it was blank. It contained nothing but a pink ribbon, which fell to the floor.

As she bent to retrieve it, the kitchen door opened and Lucas McMinn stepped inside.

“Interesting place to wait for transport, Miss Brimm.”

“I kept my promise and did not leave the building.”

“This is true. And yet I'm wondering why you're in the kitchen. Asking for the recipe for chocolate cake, perhaps?”

She straightened and kicked the paper behind her, the pink ribbon hidden in her fist. “Well, actually I had thought to use my time wisely by coming in here to inform the chef that he should send someone up to the roof for the things we left there.”

“Oh?” His expression told Flora that he didn't believe a word of what she'd just said. “And what was the chef's response?”

“I…I haven't exactly located him yet.”

“I see. And were you going to tell him yourself or had you planned to leave him some form of written message?” He bent down to reach around her. When he straightened he held Will Tucker's folded paper in his hand. “Like this one, perhaps?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you.” She yanked the page from Mr. McMinn's hand and then reached out to tug on the sleeve of the first black-coated waiter who hurried past. “You, sir,” Flora said. “I wrote a note for the chef. Do give it to him, would you? It concerns some items he will find on the roof.”

The waiter's eyes narrowed. “I'm sorry miss, but—”

“No, please.” Flora hoped her expression conveyed the urgency of the situation. “Take it.”

“All right,” he said before tucking the paper into his pocket. “For the chef?”

“Yes. The chef and no one else. Thank you,” she called to his retreating back. Finally she returned her attention to the Pinkerton agent. “All handled. Do you have the buggy arranged?”

“It's waiting outside.” He studied her intently.

“Then let's go,” she said as she swept past him. When she realized he had moved no farther than the kitchen door, she turned around to retrace her steps. “We've no time to waste, Mr. McMinn,” she said in her best urgent tone.

One dark brow rose, as did the beginnings of a smile. Still he refused to move. “If that's the case, why did you decide to waste time by making this detour into the kitchen, Miss Brimm?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she insisted. “As I said, I only sought to use my time wisely. Now, come on. I have a wedding to try and salvage. Do you want to be any more responsible than you already are for me missing it?”

“I refuse to debate that point, Miss Brimm. But because I'm certain something's going on here, I'll take you into town.”

He closed the distance between them and then had the audacity to link arms with her. As they reemerged into the atrium lobby, Flora spied the clerk watching them. For a moment she wondered what he might think of the convoluted situation.

Then good sense prevailed. “Would you excuse me just a moment? I believe that clerk is trying to get my attention.”

“The desk clerk?” Mr. McMinn met the man's stare. “Did you promise him something to get him to let you go yesterday? He may be worried you're leaving before you pay up.”

“I did nothing of the sort!” She let out a long breath. “He's just a very nice man who was sympathetic to a woman in distress.”

“A woman in distress?” His chuckle held no humor. “Hardly.”

“All the same, I really should see what he wants.”

“Suit yourself. But just so you know, it has not escaped my notice that you're hiding a pink ribbon in your right hand.”

She opened her mouth to respond but then thought better of it. There was no use denying it.

“It had better be there when you get back here.”

Flora feigned disbelief. “You're suggesting I would offer a total stranger a pink ribbon? Truly, Mr. McMinn, I fail to see how that makes any sense.”

“Well done, Miss Brimm. But it could be a signal of some sort. Maybe a way of letting Mr. Tucker know the coast is clear.” He paused to fix the clerk with a hard stare. “Or not clear.”

She made a show of walking off in a huff, though her insides were quickly turning to jelly. If the pink ribbon were a signal, she'd yet to decipher a meaning. A glance in the direction of the checkerboard told her the men were now gone.

Interesting.

When she reached the desk, the clerk gave her a curious look. “Back so soon?” he asked, though his attention appeared to be focused elsewhere.

“If Mr. Tucker returns—”

“He assured me he would not.”

“All right,” she said as her patience threatened to flee. “But if he should, please let him know I have received his message, though I'm unsure as to its meaning.”

Henry looked confused. “He said you would understand.”

“Miss Brimm,” the agent called.

Flora considered adding more to her message but decided against it. Considering the man's uncanny ability to listen in on conversations and generally anticipate far too much, she decided to leave the remainder of her thoughts unsaid.

“Thank you,” she added as she stepped away from the desk to join Mr. McMinn.

“Did you get your message passed on to Tucker?” he asked as he escorted her out the door.

“Don't be ridiculous,” she said as she allowed him to help her up into the buggy. When he had climbed in beside her, Flora fixed him with a look. “And do not even think of using your handcuffs again, Mr. McMinn. I've kept my side of the bargain, and I will hold you to yours. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” he said as he set the buggy into motion.

They rode the short distance down the mountain to Eureka Springs in silence. Had she been traveling with anyone else, Flora might have remarked on the lovely shade of green the trees had turned, likely owing to last night's rain shower. Or she might have commented on the freshness of the midmorning air, also likely washed clean by the storm.

Instead, she plotted how she might best escape her jailor should she spy Will Tucker walking along the city street. Or, better yet, if she found him waiting at the parson's after all.

The buggy slowed at the edge of Spring Street, and Mr. McMinn glanced over in her direction. “The plan is to stop at the church just to see if Tucker has showed up. If he's not standing out front waiting, you and I will go in and see the preacher together, and I'll do the talking.”

“All right,” she said as she looked away. “Though I will remind you again that you're going to be proven wrong once you hear Mr. Tucker's story.”

Rather than respond, he snapped the reins and sent the buggy jolting forward. His driving was deplorable, though her ire came more from the way he whipped the buggy around corners and swiftly and skillfully maneuvered around obstacles such as people and slow-moving wagons.

By the time they stopped at the church, Flora was ready to scream. And yet he had done as she asked and hurried.

Definitely hurried.

He secured the horse and stepped around to help her down from the buggy. “Need I remind you that you are still—”

“In your personal custody.” She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you have reminded me of that at least a hundred times. Believe me, I'm acutely aware of that fact.”

“Are you also aware of the fact that your fiancé is not waiting for you on the church steps?” He gestured to a sign that read OFFICE. “Let's go see the preacher and find out if your man never showed up or just gave up waiting.

“Well, there you are,” the pastor said when they rang the bell at the office door. “I wondered whether one or both of you had gotten cold feet.” He looked to Flora's companion. “You must be Mr. Tucker.”

“No,” Mr. McMinn said as he opened his jacket to reveal his badge. “I am Pinkerton agent Lucas McMinn. But I have a couple of questions about this Mr. Tucker.”

The pastor ushered them inside and, after offering refreshments, admitted he hadn't actually met Will Tucker.