To Love a Scoundrel (23 page)

"Will incinerate me someday?" he interrupted, ready to meet the challenge. "Go ahead, Madame Ziggy. It seems I've kindled at least a small blaze in you. I'm prepared to fight fire with fire. I dare you to strike your match."

* * *

Outside beyond the docks a hansom cab rounded the corner and pulled to a halt a few blocks away from where the
Delta Dawn
was tied. Allan Pinkerton climbed down from the plush carriage and paid the driver. Then he walked toward the "floating wedding cake," wondering anew how he would present himself, wishing he'd been able to think of a disguise clever enough to impress his best female operative.

As he stepped down off the boardwalk to cross the street, a scattering crowd caught his eye. Townsfolk and boat passengers spread out, revealing to Allan that they had been gathered around a wildly painted ox-drawn wagon. Bright red letters spelled out the words, Professor Harrington's Traveling Medicine Show. Laughing to himself, Allan resumed his progress, then stopped again.

Swiveling back toward the commotion, he observed as a tall silver-haired gentleman gathered his unsold merchandise and made his way to the rear of the wagon.

"Perfect," Alan exclaimed as he started toward the man. "Absolutely perfect."

His mind moving as rapidly as his feet, the detective devised his plans as he moved closer to the medicine show. When he finally reached the proprietor, the silver-haired gentleman had finished storing his wares and was engaged in conversation with the beautiful Oriental girl standing beside him.

"Excuse me, my good man," Allan apologized. "Might I have a word with you?"

Professor Harrington stepped away from Princess Ling Ling. "You may have just about anything you'd like, for a price. What can I do for you?''

"Just the words I wanted to hear." Allan laughed. "I am meeting a friend aboard one of the steamships dockside. I would like to buy or borrow your costume and perhaps a few bottles of tonic. Would that be possible?''

The professor flapped the sleeves of his colorful satin mandarin robe, then pulled a crimson silk scarf from inside the folds of the garment. "Not only possible, but done. Princess Ling Ling, four bottles of tonic, please—and grab my top hat while you're back there, too."

Then he draped the scarf around Allan's neck. "Do you intend to sell my product while in this costume, sir?''

"Well," Allan hedged, "I only wanted to play a little joke. I don't want to infringe on your—"

"Please, sir," the professor cut in. "I only ask so that you will be prepared with the proper speech. As it turns out, I'm in a bit of a hurry to leave New Madrid.'' He cast a nervous eye toward the center of town, where he knew the sheriff was in the process of locking up his partner, Chief Nogasackett. Then he swung the Chinese cape over his head and wrapped it around Allan's shoulders. His grin huge and completely genuine, the professor said, "You're welcome to my identity for the rest of the afternoon."

Princess Ling Ling returned with four bottles of medicine and the black silk hat. After handing them to Allan, she gave him a shy smile, then disappeared into the back of the wagon.

The professor adjusted the hat on Allan's head, instructing him as he arranged the bottles in the pockets of the detective's coat. "Be sure to refer to the tonic as 'the elixir of life.' Tell your customers that you have observed the authenticity of this product firsthand. You have also accompanied Chief Nogasackett on many an excursion as he picked just the right yarbs and roots, blended them with his own specially grown herbs, and added to them the mystical power contained in Princess Ling Ling's secret extract of poppy. And good luck to you, friend." Then he climbed onto the driver's seat of the wagon and extended his hand. "That'll be twenty dollars, sir."

"Twenty?
No, I don't think so—not for a little joke." Allan made as if to remove the cape, but the professor spared him the trouble.

His worried gaze still darting toward the center of town, Harrington shrugged. "All right. Fifteen, then."

"Ten, or you get it all back."

The professor ground his teeth, then sighed. "Ten it is—but be quick about it. I really must be on my way."

Chuckling to himself, Allan paid the man and started down the street toward the
Delta Dawn.
As he walked, he read the label on a bottle of tonic: "Professor Harrington's Nature Cure and Worm Syrup: Guaranteed to heal liver ailments, eliminate all suffering from the pain of a toothache to the agony of childbirth, and restore health to those who endure any number of maladies."

Allan opened the bottle and sniffed. Grimacing, he replaced the cap and stuffed the bottle back inside his jacket pocket. "Ought to be outlawed," he grumbled to himself as he reached the ship. "Nothing but alcohol and codeine, mixed with God knows what all."

When he started up the gangplank, he explained to a deckhand as he passed by, "Just visiting a friend on board. No need to worry. I'll be off before she heads on downriver."

The deckhand shrugged and went back to his chore of taking on supplies.

Allan continued toward the saloon deck, where he supposed a fortune-teller might be working her trade. A quick glance into the huge room showed him Madam Zaharra and her colorful sign. She was sitting at her small table, staring down at a customer's hand as if deep in thought.

Slowly approaching her, Allan settled on the simplest way of announcing his presence, and at the same time he gave himself an identity Jewel wouldn't have to explain.

Proud of his creative disguise, he began to whistle as he drew nearer to his favorite employee.

The sound alerted Jewel. She looked up, stared at Allan for a moment, then gasped.

Prepared for her surprise, Allan threw his arms wide open and beamed. "My sweet little Zaharra. It's your wandering daddy come to see you. How's my little girl?"

Chapter 11

Brent looked over his shoulder at what had to be some wild apparition, but the bizarre-looking man continued toward them, waving his arms as he approached.

"Now, is that any way to greet your dear daddy, girl?" Allan complained loudly. "Get up and give your old man a hug and a kiss."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding." Brent rolled his eyes then scowled at Jewel. "Tell me he's kidding."

Jewel shrugged and tried to explain, but her tongue couldn't quite manage the assignment. "I—He... Well, you see, the thing is—"

Brent sighed as he stood up and shoved the chair close to the table. "Just one more question: Is this your
real
father?"

Jewel pushed away from the table and rose, her lips moving as her frantic mind searched for an acceptable reply. But no sound issued forth.

Allan circled around to where Jewel stood, his thick brows drawn together. "Have I upset you in some way, daughter?"

"I—ah..."

"Allow me to answer for her," Brent supplied, adding a caustic "daddy dear."

Allan looked down his nose at the handsome stranger and muttered indignantly, "And who might you be, sir?"

"I'm Jewel's long-lost twin brother. Sorry to spring such a shocking surprise on you, Pop, but the midwife hid me under a cabbage leaf soon after I was born. I do hope you'll excuse my lack of manners and my irreverent attitude toward you, dear Father, but you have to remember that I was raised in a vegetable garden." Brent tipped an imaginary hat, then whirled on Jewel. "When you're done visiting with Daddy here, stop by my office, sis. We have to discuss the skeletons in our family closet."

"If you'll just listen, please, I—" Jewel began.

"Oh, I intend to. What's one more daddy story between us? I'll be in my office stoking up my
fire.
I'm not sure I've got enough fuel burning for this latest challenge. Five minutes, sis," he suggested, holding up his fingers for emphasis. "That should give you and Pop plenty of time to come up with a good story." He spun on his heel and stomped off toward the bar.

Allan removed the stovepipe hat and scratched the top of his head. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing," she sighed sinking onto the table top as she watched Brent disappear. "Everything."

"Jewel? What's going on here? Who was that?"

"Brent Connors."

Allan whipped his head toward the bar and the nearby doorway, but the gambler was gone. Looking back at Jewel, he said, "The man from Topeka? The fellow who—"

"Shot me," she said with a nod. "The man who has now met at least
three
of my fathers."

"Oh," Allan groaned, remembering all the details. "I suppose this disguise isn't as clever as I thought, then, is it?"

"Not when you consider that Brent Connors owns this ship and I'm posing as one of his employees."

"Oh, no. I'm sorry Jewel, but I had no idea. Do you think this will jeopardize your job?"

She only had to think a moment before she shook her head. "Mr. Connors and I are a little beyond such matters, but he's definitely going to want to know who you are and why you're calling yourself my father." Trying to hide the undeniable affection she felt for Brent from her employer, she looked down at the floor before she softly added, "I can't lie to him anymore, Allan."

The detective shook his head and offered his upturned palms. "I really thought I had the perfect excuse to visit you. I have an appointment in Memphis tomorrow and thought I'd stop by to check on you. I never dreamed something like this would happen."

"Forget it. It's not important. This is. I have some information that may be of interest to you. Harry Benton is on board this steamship."

"Benton?"
he said under his breath. "Are you absolutely certain?"

Again she nodded. "Without a doubt. If you'd shown up the minute the
Dawn
came into port, you'd have found me reading his tea leaves."

"That could have been disastrous. Harry would have recognized me in an instant." Allan glanced around the room. "Where is he? In this getup I'm bound to draw more than my share of attention."

"He's in town somewhere, but I don't know for how long. It might be best if you"—she gestured toward his robe—"get rid of this getup. Who are you supposed to be, anyway?"

"Professor Harrington, at your service." Allan clicked his heels together and handed her a bottle of worm syrup. "On the house, of course, but test it in the privacy of your stateroom. I believe you'll find it's quite intoxicating."

"Thanks," she said, taking the bottle from him. "Maybe I can use this to help soften Mr. Connors's opinion of me. I'm going to need all the help I can get."

Again he apologized. "Sorry, Jewel. What are you going to tell him?"

"Something I should have before now—the truth."

Allan winced. "Are you certain that's absolutely necessary?"

She thought for a moment, considered their newest uneasy truce, then nodded. "Yes. I believe it is. What do you want me to tell him about you?"

Allan stroked his beard for a moment. "I think it'd be best if you leave my name out of it, but go ahead and tell him I'm one of your colleagues. You'll be telling the truth, if that's important to you."

Jewel didn't have to say a word. She looked into Allan's eyes and saw that he knew exactly how important it was to her. "Thanks," she said quietly.

His expression thoughtful, Allan asked, "Anything else I should know about before I leave?"

Jewel averted her gaze and shook her head. "I'll wire you from New Orleans, as we originally planned, and inform you of my progress—maybe before then, if Harry gives me a good reason to take him into custody."

"Is that a possibility? Maybe I should remain on board hidden away just to be on the safe side."

"No, Allan. Go on about your business. So far, Harry's been too sick to do much of anything. I doubt he's even had a chance to cheat at cards yet."

"You're sure you'll be all right?"

Jewel pushed away from the table and straightened her spine. Staring off to where she'd last seen Brent, she answered him in a preoccupied manner, with less confidence than usual. "I can take care of myself, Allan. You should know that by now."

Always the detective, Allan raised a skeptical eyebrow and warned her as he prepared to take his leave, "Be careful with this Connors fellow, Jewel. I don't want to lose one of my best operatives."