A Shelter of Hope (33 page)

Jeffery stared at the paper for a moment before reaching into his desk drawer. He carefully pulled out a matching copy of the poster and held it up. “I sure have. I saw this in Chicago and brought it back with me.”

“So you know them?”

“Nope. I can’t say as I know this Louis Dumas fellow.”

Zack let out a breath of exasperation. “But you know Simone Dumas.”

“Well, I know I hired a woman named Simone. But she gave her last name as Irving.”

“What did she look like?” Zack asked.

O’Donnell thought for a moment. “Well, she wore a black dress and a white apron and she had a white bow for her hair,” he paused, as if trying to think of some other feature.

“Mr. O’Donnell, they all dress that way. It’s the uniform,” Zack reminded him.

Jeffery chuckled. “So it is. But I suppose you can see the problem. Once you get them into the uniform, they look pretty much alike. That’s what Mr. Harvey had in mind. Uniformity. He says that—”

“Please, Mr. O’Donnell, I’m running out of time. I need to know where I can find either Simone Irving or Simone Dumas.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I kind of got my own suspicions when I saw this poster,” Jeffery said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I mean, this drawing had some similarities, and the name … well, you just don’t hear it that often. Sounds French to me, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Zack replied in complete exasperation.

Jeffery smiled and nodded. “That’s what I figured, too. I mean, not too many people in these parts name their kids by French names. There’s a lot of Marys and Margarets, and of course Bible names are quite popular. But—” “I’m sorry,” Zack interrupted, “but I need to know what you think about the woman you hired. Do you believe Simone Irving and Simone Dumas to be one and the same?”

“I think it’s very possible.”

“Where is she now?” Zack asked, finally feeling that he was getting somewhere with the questioning.

Jeffery surprised him by shrugging. He leaned back casually in his chair and folded his hands together. “I really can’t say.”

“What do you mean?”

The man looked rather sheepish, and Zack got a sick feeling in his gut that he wasn’t going to like whatever it was O’Donnell was going to say.

“I showed her the poster and she ran. Fled the Harvey House altogether. I’ve not seen her since.”

“What!” Zack stood up in surprise. “You just up and confronted her without any kind of lawman here to take her into custody?” The indignity of it was too much for Matthews. “You let her get away?”

“I’m afraid I did,” O’Donnell said rather apologetically. “I am sorry, Mr. Matthews. I’ve never had dealings with criminal types before. I thought maybe it was a silly coincidence. I guess it wasn’t.”

“And you have no idea where she went?”

“Oh, I have all sorts of ideas. She came here from Chicago and it seems logical that she might want to go back there.”

“Why would you say that?” Zack questioned, finally feeling the calm return enough to retake his seat.

Again O’Donnell shrugged. “It’s just an idea—a guess, really. You asked me for ideas.”

“Yes, but do you have any reason to believe she would return to Chicago? Did she mention it?”

“She wasn’t saying much when she left here,” Jeffery told him.

“And when exactly did she leave?”

“I couldn’t possibly say.”

“You have no idea?”

“As I said earlier, I have all kinds of ideas. I’ve always fancied myself a bit of a sleuth, don’t you know. My mother always said—”

“‘Look, Mr. O’Donnell, I do appreciate the help you’ve already given me, but I have to have some hard facts to work with. I’m going to have to insist on talking to Miss Taylor. I met with the woman’s mother in Chicago, and she believes that Miss Taylor will have plenty of answers to help me.”

“You met her mother? In Chicago? Well, isn’t that nice. What sort of woman is she?” O’Donnell questioned in a most eager manner.

Zack had pretty well decided that O’Donnell was either too daft to understand the frustration he was causing or too indifferent to care that he was slowing Zack down. Zack had once known a boy in school who was almost too smart for his own good. The simplest things often stumped the boy, but he was a genius in other areas. It could always be possible that this O’Donnell fellow was just the same.

“Could you please send for Miss Taylor?” Zack asked patiently.

O’Donnell seemed to consider this request for several moments, and Zack was just about to repeat the question when Jeffery got to his feet. “I’ll call her.”

He went to the door, much to Zack’s relief and called down the hall.

“Miss Taylor?”

Zack heard a muffled reply from somewhere down the hall.

“Would you be so kind as to join us when time permits?” O’Donnell called out one final time.

Zack wanted to leave Jeffery in the office and go in search of Rachel Taylor on his own, but he decided to wait a few more minutes before insisting on having his own way. He was way out of his own jurisdiction here and therefore totally dependent upon the kindness of these strangers.

O’Donnell had returned to the desk chair, but instead of taking a seat, he waited, hand on the back of his chair, until a light knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” O’Donnell called out.

Zack turned to find the shapely redhead enter the room. Her expression seemed fearful and her nervousness was evident in the way she twisted her hands. “Yes?”

“Miss Taylor, this gentleman is Deputy Matthews. He’s looking for Simone Irving, only her name might be Dumas. I didn’t want to show you this, but I saw it in Chicago,” Jeffery said, holding up the poster.

“Oh my!” Rachel exclaimed, her hand going to her throat.

“Do you think she looks like the Simone you had working here?”

Rachel nodded ever so slightly.

“Do you know where she is now?”

Rachel looked from Zack to Jeffery and back to the poster. Before she could reply, however, Jeffery spoke up.

“I told Deputy Matthews that she fled when I confronted her with the news. I thought perhaps Chicago might have been a nice destination for her. She had come down to Topeka from there, and it would seem reasonable that she return there.”

Rachel nodded, but Matthews could see that she was shaking from head to toe. Her dress quaked as she stood there before him, and for a moment he felt sorry for her. She was a sweet-looking woman, he decided. Her fiery hair and green eyes made him wonder if she had an Irish temper to match. But something seemed amiss between the two Harvey employees. Miss Taylor barely seemed capable of speech, while O’Donnell hardly seemed able to contain himself.

“I think that Chicago would be a truly perfect place to hide,” Jeffery was saying as Zack rethought his plan. “It’s such a large city. I live there, you know—raised there. My folks have a house—” “Look, if either of you have any idea where Simone Dumas could be, I’d appreciate your letting me know. I’m going to get a room up at The Throop Hotel. You can reach me there.”

Jeffery looked startled at the interruption but nodded. Miss Taylor looked as though she might pass out at any moment, and it was only after studying her face for several seconds that Zack remembered the sketch he had for her.

“Oh, by the way …” He pulled the alpaca coat up and reached into his back pocket. “I spoke to your mother in Chicago. While I was talking to her and sketching a new picture of Simone Dumas, she asked if I would sketch one of her to bring to you.”

He took out the paper and handed it to Rachel. For a moment, he thought the woman might actually burst into tears. She took the picture, held it up, and studied it with such intensity that Zack didn’t know quite what to do or say.

“This is very good,” Rachel finally whispered.

“She’s mighty proud of you,” Zack said, finally deciding it was the safest course. “She asked that I sketch you while I’m down here and bring it to her upon my return.”

“Oh, are you returning to Chicago, Mr. Matthews?” Jeffery asked. “I have to return to Chicago and I would be pleased to invite you as my guest.”

“No,” Zack said, a little more emphatically than he’d intended. “I’m not leaving. Not yet, anyway.”

He walked to the door of the office and stopped only long enough to look back at the two. Something was wrong, but for the life of him, Zack’s instincts just couldn’t nail it.

“I’ll be back a little later to see if any of the other girls might have an idea of where Miss Dumas might have gone.”

TWENTY-SIX

AFTER DAYS OF TRYING to size up the Topeka depot situation, Louis Dumas clearly had no better idea where his daughter was than when he’d first arrived. Matthews seemed to beat a path back and forth between a nearby hotel and the railroad depot restaurant, but Louis didn’t know if this was significant or simply that the man enjoyed the food.

And while Louis knew he looked nothing like the man in the Wanted poster, he could hardly just waltz up to Deputy Matthews and ask what purpose he had in Topeka. Time and a lack of knowledge added straw after straw to the proverbial camel’s back while Louis watched and waited. He felt a deep need to distance himself from this pesky young lawman, yet at the same time there was an almost fatal attraction. This man clearly had come to Topeka with Simone in mind, of this Louis was certain. After all, he had dogged their steps all the way from Wyoming. Remembering the determination in his voice when speaking to his father back in Laramie, Louis felt certain the younger man wasn’t about to give up the search. No, he’d see this thing through or die trying.

Yawning and stretching from his hiding place in one of the outbuildings near the depot, Louis tried to formulate a plan. For days he’d managed to dodge the rail yard guards, but he knew it couldn’t go on indefinitely. He didn’t have the kind of funds it would take to stay at a hotel like Matthews, and sooner or later someone would find him—and the issue of his living arrangements would have to be rethought.

He brushed the dirt and debris from his stolen coat and pants and ran his fingers through his black hair as if to comb it into place. Perhaps the time had come, he decided, to question a few people on his own. Of course, businessmen would hardly be inclined to give him the time of day, and neither would the saintly dressed young women of the Harvey Restaurant. His best bet would be the rail yard workers. They would be far more to his liking than anyone he could find inside the Harvey House, and he figured they would come closer to speaking his language than the uppity management of the railroad. Besides, Louis still had no idea what significance the Harvey House held—if any.

Cursing under his breath, he gathered his things together and decided to look like any other passenger when the morning train arrived at the depot. The sound of the whistle made it clear the time for action was upon him.

“I can’t give up now,” he muttered.

Casting a quick glance around, he darted out from the building and made his way to the depot platform. He easily blended in with the crowd, but when most of the folks went inside for breakfast, Louis waited around the tracks.

“You lost, mister?” a boy who looked to be around fifteen or sixteen questioned.

Louis eyed the young man for a moment. “Ain’t exactly lost, but I have lost someone.”

“Who’d that be?”

“My daughter. She’s about your age.”

“Ain’t no girls gonna come down here around the tracks. Too dirty and smelly for them female types.”

“Well, she ain’t exactly your regular girl. She might not mind the dirt or the smells.”

“She got a name?”

Louis nodded. “Simone.” The boy actually paled at the spoken word, and Louis knew he’d found the right place to start. “Have you seen her?”

“She a passenger?”

“No,” Louis said, watching the boy grow more fidgety. “She came here some time ago.”

“Why’d she come here?” the boy asked, as if testing Louis’s knowledge. “She ran away,” he answered bluntly. It was his only defense. “Her ma died and it made her sad.”

The boy seemed to consider this for a minute. “I don’t reckon I can tell you anything,” he said, then glanced down at the rail, shaking his head. “No, sir, I don’t know a thing.” He hurried off toward a group of men who were working on a separate line of tracks.