September Sky (American Journey Book 1) (38 page)

"Is there someone who works here who might know the name of this woman?"

"My boss would," Beatrice said. "Mr. Miller knows all the folks who come here."

Chuck got out of his chair. When Beatrice and Charlotte did the same, he thanked the maid for her time and led his wife out of the sitting room and down a long hallway to the lobby. Chuck approached the clerk at the front desk and requested to see the Stratford's manager. Three minutes later, he stood face to face with Theodore Miller for the second time in twenty minutes.

"That was quick," Miller said. "Did Beatrice give you the information you wanted?"

"She did," Chuck said. "She was very helpful. The only thing she couldn't tell me was the name of the woman who delivers your flowers on Saturdays. She told me that you might know."

"Of course I know. The woman is Maxine Gates. She has delivered our flowers for months."

"Her name is Maxine?"

"Yes. Her name is Maxine. Some people call her Goldie, but most call her Maxine. She signs Maxine on all of her invoices," Miller said. "Why is this important?"

Chuck looked at Charlotte and then at the manager.

"It's important, Mr. Miller, because your flower lady was supposed to be out of town the morning Rose O'Malley was murdered in your hotel. She knew and disliked the deceased."

"I hope you're not saying she's responsible."

"I'm not saying that at all," Chuck said. "What I am saying is that Maxine Gates has some questions to answer and that the door to this open-and-shut case has just been kicked wide open."

CHAPTER 65: CHUCK

Sitting next to Charlotte in an otherwise unoccupied waiting room at the Galveston police station, Charles Townsend closed his eyes and shook his head. Not once had he considered that Max could be a woman. Because of that neglect, a dear friend lay in a grave.

"This is my fault," Chuck said. "I knew Goldie didn't like Rose. I should have considered her a suspect along with the rest."

"This is not your fault, Charles.
I'm
the one who should have made the connection," Charlotte said. "I knew Goldie's christened name was Maxine. I knew the killer's name was Mack or Max. You told me that. I just didn't know that Goldie was capable of violence."

"We still don't. Let's be fair. It's entirely possible that Goldie is as innocent as Wyatt. We don't have a strong case right now. We don't even have a motive."

"That's not entirely true," Charlotte said.

"What do you mean?" Chuck asked.

"What I mean is that I haven't told you everything about Goldie and Rose."

"Tell me then."

"You know that Goldie envied Rose's ability to make and keep male friends. I told you that much," Charlotte said. "What I didn't tell you is that she also envied her ability to keep Wyatt."

"What?"

"Goldie dated Wyatt for several weeks. She loved him, as best I could tell, but he did not love her. Wyatt ended their relationship about the time he started seeing Rose."

Chuck tilted his head.

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"I didn't think it was relevant. Even after Rose died, I didn't think it was relevant. I didn't think Goldie was violent and, like everyone else, I thought she was visiting her sister at the time of the murder. I'm sorry, Charles, but it simply didn't occur to me."

Chuck pulled her close and kissed her on the side of the head.

"I'm not blaming you. You saw the best in Goldie, just like you see the best in everyone. You should never apologize for that."

Chuck started to say something else but stopped when Silas Fitzpatrick and Hannibal Butler, the defense attorney, stepped into the room. Chuck got out of his chair and stepped away from the table when they approached.

"The police tell me you learned something that could help our case," Butler said. "Is that true? If so, please tell me. I may need to modify Wyatt's defense."

"I did learn something, counselor – something that could prove to be big. If my hunch is correct, you'll want to do more than modify Wyatt's defense. You'll want to move to have all charges dismissed."

"What is it then?"

"Sit down. I'll tell you," Chuck said.

Chuck pointed to the only table in the room. He waited for Silas and Butler to each take a seat and then returned to his own chair.

"So what did you learn?" Butler asked.

"I learned several things. I learned that I should never completely trust first impressions or underestimate a person's capacity to commit violence. I also learned that it pays to explore even the smallest lead in a case, like the one I uncovered a few hours ago."

"What are you getting at?" Silas asked.

"I met this morning with Beatrice May, the cleaning girl who found Rose. It seems that Miss May saw Goldie Gates, also known as Maxine Gates, deliver flowers at the Stratford Hotel shortly before Rose was murdered," Chuck said.

"So?" Butler asked.

"Goldie wasn't supposed to be in Galveston that day. She was supposed to be in San Antonio visiting her sister. No one has seen or heard from her since August 17."

"That does not prove she committed the crime," Butler said. "Even if Goldie was at the hotel at the time of the murder, she may have done nothing more than deliver flowers."

Chuck sighed.

"How many people at the Stratford that morning knew and disliked Rose O'Malley? How many had dated Wyatt for several weeks and been tossed aside in favor of the deceased?"

"I see your point," Butler said.

"In all probability, Goldie knew that Wyatt would take Rose to the Stratford. She knew he would check into the hotel using a false name, tie Rose to the bedposts, and leave her unattended at some point to get coffee or a newspaper or a pastry across the street. As his former lover, she would have known each and every one of his peculiar habits."

Chuck glanced at his wife.

"I'm sorry for being so descriptive, Charlotte."

"Don't hold anything back on my behalf, Charles. These men must know exactly what you are thinking if they are going to free Wyatt from jail."

Chuck laughed to himself. Most women in 1900 would have fainted after hearing "bedposts," "lover," and "peculiar habits" in consecutive sentences, but not his wife. She was a tolerant, unflappable, progressive soul who would always have his back. Chuck returned his attention to Butler and saw that his skeptical eyes had softened.

"I can't argue with your logic, sir. Your reasoning is sound," Butler said. "At the very least, it casts doubt on the notion that only one person could have killed Miss O'Malley. It does not, however, provide us with what we need to free Wyatt. We need more than a theory to win this case. We need hard evidence."

A man entered the room.

"You may have it, Mr. Butler."

Chuck turned toward the sound of the voice. He needed only a second to determine that the man was Deputy Chief of Police Patrick O'Malley and that he had more to offer the defense than a promise to investigate other suspects.

"What do we have, Chief?" Butler asked.

"You have something you didn't have yesterday," O'Malley said. "You have evidence."

"Please explain."

"I'd be happy to. It seems that Mr. Townsend's theory isn't as far-fetched as I thought it was. I just got a telegram from my counterpart at the San Antonio Police Department. At my request, they contacted Goldie Gates at her sister's home and brought her in for questioning."

"What did she say?" Butler asked.

"She didn't say a thing," O'Malley said. "Miss Gates refused to answer questions. She refused to cooperate on any matter."

"I don't understand," Chuck said. "If the police in San Antonio could not get her to talk, how did they obtain evidence that is relevant to Rose's murder?"

"The evidence, Mr. Townsend, was not a statement. It was a ring," O'Malley said. "It was a sapphire ring that was found in Miss Gates' purse. It was a ring that belonged to my sister."

CHAPTER 66: JUSTIN

Sunday, September 2, 1900

Standing where the beach grass met the beach, Justin Townsend stared blankly at the gray waves and tried to come to terms with two unpleasant things – the pending destruction of Galveston, Texas, and the decision by Emily Beck to remain in 1900.

Justin knew he could do little to mitigate the first. There was little even a time traveler could do to convince Gulf residents that the next big blow was going to be worse than the last.

There was
nothing
he could do to stop the hurricane itself. A "storm of moderate intensity" had already been reported southeast of Cuba and was slowly making its way west.

In a few days, it would come ashore, turn even sturdy buildings into kindling, and claim six thousand lives. It would remind at least one college dropout that when nature and man had it out, nature usually won.

Justin had hoped for a better outcome with Emily. Though he knew he had asked her to do the unthinkable, he had hoped she would do just that.

People left their families all the time to pursue opportunity. In the last fifty years, sixteen million Europeans had left their native lands to come to the United States. In the same period, hundreds of thousands of Americans from the East, the South, and the Midwest had left their homes to settle in places like California and Oregon.

The difference, of course, is that these individuals
knew
they might see their families again. They knew that even if a reunion with their loved ones was unlikely, it was possible. People with hope of certain outcomes took chances. People without hope did not.

Justin also thought about Wyatt Fitzpatrick, the reason he had come to Texas with his father in the first place. Though Wyatt's guilt in the murder of Rose O'Malley had been called into question with the arrest of Goldie Gates, his freedom had not been secured. He remained in the Galveston jail pending a further investigation into the facts of the case.

"What are you thinking about?" Emily asked.

"I'm thinking about a lot of things," Justin said. "Just now I was thinking about Wyatt and the investigation into who killed Rose."

"Do you think Goldie did it?"

Justin faced Emily and nodded.

"I do. How else could she have gotten the ring?"

"I don't know," Emily answered. "I don't know anything anymore."

"Sure you do," Justin said. "You know Galveston is going to be wiped out in a few days – and you know you're not going to Los Angeles with me. Those are two things right there."

Anger and tears filled Emily's eyes.

"Why must you torment me? You know why I won't go."

Justin turned away for a moment as he tried to decide whether one more fight was worth it. He didn't know how to solve the impasse any more than she did, but he wanted to keep looking for answers. Leaving Emily's life forever simply wasn't acceptable.

"If you won't leave your family, then why don't you bring them along?" Justin asked. "My dad and I can find a place for them in the future. I know we can."

"I won't bring them along because I
can't
," Emily said. "I've already tested those waters."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I told my parents you wanted to marry me and take me on a one-way trip to Australia. I figured if they considered moving to a place on the other side of the world, they might consider taking an even bigger leap. So I asked if they would do that. I asked them if they would move to Australia under any circumstances."

"What did they say?" Justin asked.

"They said no. Do you think most people would have answered differently? My parents don't even like to travel to Houston, much less places farther away."

"Were you able to convince them to leave town this weekend?"

"Yes, Justin. I did what you asked me to do," Emily said with an edge in her voice. "I can save their lives, but I can't save
us
. It's hopeless."

Justin watched as Emily, tearful and flustered, shook her head, turned around, and walked away. He paused to consider her words. He knew she was right. Their situation
was
hopeless. The relationship had to end. He just didn't want it to end like this.

"Don't leave," Justin said.

Emily looked back as he rushed forward.

"Stay away from me!"

"I'm sorry," Justin said when he reached her. "I'm sorry for putting you through this."

Emily stared at him with watery eyes.

"Do you think I want to leave you?" she asked. "I love you as much as I love them, but I can't give them up. I won't."

Justin wrapped Emily in his arms as she started to sob.

"I know," he said. "I understand too."

Emily withdrew from his grasp.

"Do you?" she asked. "Do you really understand how difficult this is for me? A few months ago, I never wanted to see another man. I hated all of you. I hated what men had
done
to me. Then you had to come along and remind me that some men are kind and decent and loving. You got me to stop thinking about some things and start thinking about others. I want a life with you more than I want to breathe, but I won't leave my family to get it."

Justin pulled her in again.

"Don't say another word," he said. "You don't have to explain a thing. I'm the one who's being selfish, not you."

Justin waited for Emily to lift her head and meet his gaze. When she did, he put his hands on her face. He wiped away her tears, smiled warmly, and gave her a tender kiss. When she returned his smile, he kissed her again.

"I'm going to miss this the most," Emily said.

"Miss what?"

Emily smiled sweetly.

"Kissing you."

"Why?" Justin asked.

"Because you know how."

Both of them laughed. They laughed until the anger and frustration that had kept them apart for much of the past hour dissipated into the sea air. When they finally regained their composure, they exchanged loving smiles and fell into each other's arms.

"That's what
I'm
going to miss the most," Justin said.