Don Gutteridge - Vital Secrets

There was no secret vial of laudanum, but something far more arresting: two brand-new French Modèle rifles-U.S army issue and the most sophisticated infantry weapon in the world-and a box of ammunition. And tucked under the polished hardwood stock of one of them was a folded note. Marc drew it into the light and read:

We understand that you have the merchandise with you. We have the money you require. Please bring a sample with you after the performance on Wednesday evening. Using the same means of communication, you will be supplied at that time with a map showing you the rendezvous point. In the meantime, we will be watching. Vigilance is the byword. Destroy this note.

Several thoughts raced through Marc’s mind. These two guns were a sampler: Where were the others and how many were there? By what clandestine system of communication had this note been delivered? Was Merriwether a lone gunrunner among the Bowery Company? To which group of treasonous dissidents were these weapons destined? With Merriwether dead, what chance would there be of setting a trap for the insurrectionists? And finally, did this discovery have anything to do with Merriwether’s murder and the fate of Ensign Hilliard?

Marc found himself incapable of further thought. He closed up the false bottom of the trunk, then pulled two blankets off Merriwether’s bed, trudged to the other end of the hall, stretched his six-foot length across the opening to the stairwell, and fell asleep.

While Ogden Frank supervised breakfast for the “material witnesses,” Marc decided to begin his interrogations with Tessa Guildersleeve. He wanted to get as much accomplished in this regard as possible before Spooner returned and was necessarily apprised of what Marc had discovered in Merriwether’s room-a discovery that was certain to throw Sir Francis into paroxysms of one kind or another. He rapped discreetly at the door in the tavern that led to the Franks’ quarters. Madge Frank opened it a mere crack, grimaced, then opened it wide. She was a lean, angular woman who could have used her elbows, shoulders, or hips as weapons, with chestnut hair indifferently tamed, sallow skin, and dark, mistrusting eyes that seemed forever to be seeking something they didn’t want to find.

“Whaddya want?” she said.

“Please take me to Miss Guildersleeve. It is imperative that I speak with her now.”

“People in fancy getups are always imperative about some-thin’ or other,” she grumbled, but stepped aside to let him in. “I’ll see if the poor creature’s awake,” she said.

“If not, I’d appreciate it if you’d wake her for me.”

She glared at him, then heaved a woman’s deep sigh that clearly conveyed a message about the incurable callousness of the male species. “Come with me.”

Tessa was sitting up in bed, dipping a piece of dry toast in the mug of tea on her lap. She was wearing one of Madge’s flowered bathrobes three sizes too big for her. Her face seemed no paler than usual, but her eyes were puffy and her lips drawn tight with tension. However, there was no sign of lingering shock or the kind of trauma that might have been expected from the ordeal she had suffered. She gave Marc a smile with her eyes, much to the disgust of her nurse.

“Tessa’s gone through the most horrible thing that can happen to a young lady,” Madge Frank said with a twist of her features to indicate that she was vicariously experiencing the horror of it.

For a moment Marc thought that Tessa might have winked at him, but her general expression was one of intense concern as she gave him her full attention.

“I’d like to speak to the girl alone. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Tessa?”

“I ain’t leavin’ this room,” Madge Frank declared through clenched teeth as she set her arms akimbo and took her stand in the doorway.

“Suit yourself, then,” Marc said civilly, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Tessa showed no sign of being afraid, but he heard Madge suck in her breath. “I’m here as the governor’s appointed investigator into the tragic events that took place in your room last night.”

Tessa’s expression clouded over, and Marc could see a flutter at her throat where the robe parted. Even in distress she was incredibly beautiful in an innocent, unfinished sort of way. “I’ll try to help you if I can,” she said bravely, though it was clear she had questions of her own she would like answered.

“First of all, I must inform you that both you and Rick were drugged last night. Someone put laudanum in your sherry decanter.”

Tessa seemed about to lose her carefully constructed composure, but whether it was the result of hearing the word laudanum or the name Rick couldn’t be determined.

“Who would do that?” she whispered. “An’ why?”

“I intend to get answers to both of those questions. And you can help by telling me what happened after you and Rick went to your room.”

Tessa blushed a deep peony red, Madge Frank cleared her throat threateningly, but something in Marc’s steady, unjudgemental gaze encouraged the girl to begin her story. As she recited it, she kept her eyes on the tea-mug in her lap most of the time, peeking up only once a minute or so to make sure this handsome, kind-eyed officer was still listening and approving. In her own accented vernacular, Tessa’s narrative jibed with Rick’s at every essential point.

“So you were both seated on the settee, and you asked Marc to stay for one more drink?”

“Yes, I did. I was feelin’ so mellow an’ cozy and I didn’t want things to end.”

“I forbid you to take this improper conversation any further!” Madge Frank had started towards the bed, her eyes black with indignation.

“Mrs. Frank, please stand outside the door and observe if you must, but if you say one more word, I’ll remove you and shut the door.”

Madge huffed indignantly, but did as she was bidden. Marc hoped that he would not need her as an ally anytime soon. “Please go on, Tessa. I know this is very hard, but every detail you can remember may help Rick.”

He could see she wanted to ask him about Rick but dared not-yet. “I started to feel real sleepy and I saw Rick yawn, so I went over to the bed an’ laid down on it, and I was so groggy I thought I was about to faint, but, still, I really wanted Rick to stay, so I … I started to lift up my shift-”

Madge Frank was heard clattering down the hall.

“And?”

“Nothin’.”

“Nothing?”

“I must’ve passed out.”

“But you woke up later?”

“Yes.” The memory of that wakening flooded back, whole and hurting. “But I was only half awake. There was a huge weight on top of me and a raspy breathin’ in my ear. An’ before I could say or see anythin’, I felt a sharp jab between my legs and I cried out with the pain of it.”

“Did you know who … was doing this thing to you?”

“No,” she said, barely audible.

“I fainted dead away again.”

“Part of that was due to the drug, Tessa.” Two perfect teardrops had slipped out of her pale blue eyes and now sat, one on each cheek, glistening. “Could it have been Rick on top of you?” Marc asked quietly.

Amazement, then fear, filled her face. “Oh, no, it couldn’t’ve been Rick. He would never do anythin’ to hurt me. You can’t think Rick did this?”

“No, I don’t. But I had to ask.”

“Rick saved me from bein’ murdered!” she cried with passion and a kind of defiant, childlike pride. “Mrs. Frank’s told me about … about Jason.”

“Did you see Rick … save you?”

Tessa shook her head and shuddered. “I don’t remember anythin’ except cryin’ out at the pain. Then I was driftin’ in the dark, and all kinds of nightmares were scuttlin’ through my head, and I saw Rick with a knife stuck in him an’ he was all bloody and I screamed so loud I woke myself up-here in Mrs. Frank’s bed.”