Blessed Assurance (51 page)

“They needed someone to charge with Mitch's murder.” Gabe burned with the injustice of Rooney's treachery. He'd betrayed the public trust. For how long?
Dear God.
Corruption this close to the chief of police.

Del nodded. “Yeah, you're right.”

“Do you know why Mitch was murdered?” Gabe looked into Del's eyes.

“I pieced that together, too. I think someone is trying to challenge Vincent for control of the new gin trade.”

Gabe repeated, “New gin trade?”

“There'll be more dirty money made than ever selling illegal liquor. Storyville will be a boomtown with cash rolling through it. What I've heard in jail is that someone from New York City wants in. Mitch must have decided to back Vincent's competition. I think they were trying to convince him not to when I saw the four of them together. Evidently Mitch went with the competition. That must be why he was killed—a warning to the other club owners—to remember who they paid protection to and why.”

“I've been afraid of what Prohibition might bring.”
God, how can something meant to do good, do so much harm?

Del's jaw hardened. “Well, whatever you have imagined, the reality will be worse. Big money draws tough predators. It will be a bloody fight over the control of the smuggled liquor trade.”

“It's already brought three murders and a kidnapping.” Gabe stood up, suddenly restless.
Meg, where are you? How will I find you?

“You've got to find Meg. She is one in a million.” Del stood up, kicking his chair back. “You realize they killed LaRae just for talking to Meg. Probably a warning to me and Meg.”

Dear Lord, help me find her alive.
But Gabe asked, “Did you tell my father about Rooney and his criminal connections?”

“No, I didn't tell anyone
.” Del looked at Gabe as if he were insane. “What I knew had gotten me arrested for murder. Why would I sentence someone else to death?”

Gabe faced Del squarely. “My carelessness in regards to your case makes me as culpable as Rooney. I want you to know that I intend to resign my position as parish attorney. If I had taken the time to do any investigation of you, I would have known that evidence had been planted on you.”

“You thought I was just another colored jazz player in Storyville,” Del said bitterly. “But I was as foolish as you. I thought I could come home and bury myself in my music here and forget the Klan and Jim Crow. I was a fool to come home to face the same old bigotry. France was the first place I've ever lived where I wasn't judged by my color. That made coming back ten times worse. Meg told me I should have stayed in France. She was right.”

Gabe could say nothing. Hearing Del's bitterness for the first time, Gabe felt ashamed. But Gabe could right no wrongs now except to free Del and find Meg.
The mystery is solved, but that doesn't help Meg.
Gabe shoved his hands into his pockets. “Who do you think kidnapped Meg?”

“Corelli. He may have panicked. Or Vincent himself. I don't see that anyone else has a motive, do you?”

“No, but I've missed so much of what is going on around me I don't trust myself. And how do I go after them?” Gabe slammed his fists onto a nearby cot. “I have no evidence against either of them. Even if I bring them in for questioning, that won't protect Meg! I could have them here in front of me and someone could…” He broke off unable to say “kill Meg.” “What are we to do? Every minute lessens her chances.”

“Well,” Del let out a deep breath, “my grandmother always said there'd come a day when I would be pushed beyond what human flesh could bear. I know what she meant now. We're there. We can do nothing in our own strength.”

“What did your grandmother tell you to do then?” Gabe ground the words out in a voice that didn't even sound like his own.

“You either give up and go down in defeat or…”

“Or?”

“Or you hand everything over to God and take whatever He decides.”

“That doesn't sound…hopeful.” Gabe stared into Del's eyes and saw his own fear and despair reflected there.

“We can always trust God—even in the face of death.”

Del's last words froze Gabe inside.
I can't face losing her, God.

“Are you ready to accept God's will?” Del stood up.

“Are you?” Gabe countered.

“I already have. I've been powerless since Rooney framed me six weeks ago. I'm still powerless—even though Rooney's dead.”

Gabe rubbed his forehead. “I have no choice.”

Del lowered his head, then raised his hands. “Oh, Lord, you know our sister, Meg, you have tried her like gold and found her pure and faithful. She's in your hands, Lord. Bring her safe through this testing. Please, Lord, please.”

Gabe stared at the floor, pressing his fingers to his eyes, forcing back tears. “I know you have the power, Lord.” He prayed silently,
I've buried my head in the sand too long, Lord. Please help me find Meg or let someone else find her before it's too late.

 

Staring up toward the dimming light of day, Meg ached within her tight bounds. The blood in her wrists and ankles throbbed from the pressure of the ropes. The sensation of pins and needles prickled in her hands and feet. From outside came loud jazz, laughter, and shouting. Mardi Gras. New Orleans was celebrating while she waited alone to see if she would live or die.
Oh, God, help me. I don't want to die—not when I've just found hope again.

You did not forsake me in the Quake or in France. Trust in the Lord and lean not on your own understanding—Father taught me that years ago. Why did it take a war, a death, a murder charge, a kidnapping to make me really know it? Trust in the Lord while he may be found.
“I do trust you, Lord. Am I too late?” She hung her head and sobbed.

 

Gabe paced his office. Night had closed around him. The shouts and laughter of Mardi Gras reached him through closed windows. Jack sat, slumped in a chair, his head down in defeat. He and Jack had searched for Meg for hours—by car, then on foot. But Mardi Gras had clogged the streets and banquettes of the French Quarter and Storyville.

The police search for Meg, desultory at best, had given way to crowd control. When Gabe and Jack had returned to Penny Candy, they'd found Corelli gone and received evasive answers to their questions. “Come back tomorrow after Mardi Gras” and “We're too busy trying to keep up with business.”

Mardi Gras had become Gabe's adversary and in the end, it had won.

Someone banged on the outer door of Gabe's office. Startled and wary, Gabe opened it.

Dent faced him. “Still offerin' five G's for information about the Yankee woman?”

Gabe's heart jerked; he hauled the man inside by the lapels of his coat. “Do you know where she is?”

“Sure do.” Dent smirked. “What about the reward?”

“Tell me where she is and if I find her there alive, you'll have your money.”

 

Because of the holiday, it took Gabe four excruciating hours to get a search warrant. It was nearly eleven at night when Jack Bishop, O'Toole, Asa Dent, and one uniformed policeman accompanied Gabe. They pushed their way on foot through the Mardi Gras revelers jamming the French Quarter. Dent had fingered Corelli as the kidnapper and had given Gabe an address of a house on Royal Street.

The Rex Parade was in full swing snaking its way through the Quarter. All around them people in shimmering and outrageous costumes and masks greeted one another and danced to the music which filled the air. Prohibition had been forgotten for the day. People openly shared bottles of liquor and toasted Mardi Gras.

Because of the din, Gabe pointed to the number that matched the one on the search warrant. The uniformed policeman pounded on the door. When no answer came, he tried it, found it locked, and kicked it in. Gabe rushed in first with his gun at the ready. The house had a musty, closed-up odor and no electricity. Fireworks burst over Royal Street and lit their way as Gabe led the search through the first floor. No one. “I hope you didn't bring us here for nothin', Dent,” Gabe growled.

“She's here, just go on.” Dent pointed to the next flight of stairs.

Gabe nodded and started up. Second floor. No one. Gabe turned to Dent, ready to rip his heart out.

Another rapid explosion of fireworks lit the sky. Jack pointed upward. Though the din from outside was muted, he still had to raise his voice, “An attic?”

Gabe caught a flickering glimpse of the outline of a hatch. Before Gabe could act, Jack dragged a chair underneath it, and pulled at the handle, drawing the hatch downward. Gabe grabbed a ladder that had been left propped against the wall. Jack stepped aside and Gabe placed it in the hatchway and climbed up the ladder into the attic.

He nearly collapsed with relief. In the dim light, he saw Meg on a chair. But her head hung low. Was she alive?

Rushing to her side, he tenderly lifted her head.

Meg's eyes flew open. She tried to shout but the gag prevented her.

With his pocket knife, he stripped away her bounds. He clasped her close to him—shaking with relief. “I thought I'd be too late! You're alive! Thank God!”

Trembling, Meg clung to him, gulping air. “I never thought…I'd see you…”

Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to the hatch and lowered her to Jack's waiting arms, then scrambled down the ladder after her. “O'Toole, I think you should stay here and secure the crime scene. We might get some evidence to convict Corelli—”

“It was Corelli,” Meg croaked with her dry throat. “I overheard him speaking…with a man.”

“Dent here gave us a tip on Corelli. This house belongs to him, too. But why did he have you kidnapped?”

“He panicked…saw us around…Penny Candy.” Meg leaned against him limply.

“We can take care of him later.” With Meg in his arms, Gabe descended the narrow curved staircase, the noise of the celebration bombarded him. At the front door, Jack pushed and kicked aside the debris left of the splintered door. Gabe stepped out onto the street with Meg.

She screamed, “He's got a gun!”

Gabe dove for the cold pavement taking Meg down with him, his body covering hers. Gunshots roared above them. Screams, shrieks, bellows exploded. Dent fell, lifeless, on the banquette beside them.

 

Two days after Mardi Gras, Gabe sat behind the prosecutor's table in Judge LeGrand's full-to-bursting courtroom.

Judge LeGrand gaveled the court into session and everyone sat. “You newspapermen, no picture-taking. None!” He turned to the prosecutor, “Gabriel, are you prepared to resume the prosecution of Delman DuBois?”

“Your honor, the parish withdraws all charges against Mr. DuBois.” Gabriel couldn't help grinning.

The judge turned his stringent attention to Delman. “Delman DuBois, please rise.”

Del rose.

“Since all charges have now been dropped in the death of Mitchell Kennedy by the parish of Orleans in the state of Louisiana, Delman DuBois, you are free to go.”

Del nodded gravely. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

Judge LeGrand hit the gavel, then departed. As soon as the door closed behind him, the courtroom erupted into exclamations and excitement.

Meg flung herself in Gabe's arms. He hugged her close. Del stepped up and pumped Gabe's hand. “Thank you. I never expected to be cleared like this—even after all that's happened.”

Gabe shook Del's hand. “The chief of police and Mayor Behrmann decided proceeding with such a flawed case would only bring disgrace on the city. After Rooney's murder and Corelli's disappearance, the chief decided a new investigation should be started. You wouldn't have killed Mitch for the reasons Rooney had concocted. The whole case had become too suspect, too flawed, too dangerous in light of public opinion to hazard.”

“Do you think Corelli was killed, too?” Del asked.

“We haven't found a body.”

Meg broke in, “I think Corelli fled out of fear of Vincent. And I think Vincent gave Dent my location and ordered Dent killed to make certain no one would be left to testify to anything.” She shivered, thinking about ruthless men. “It's just fortunate that I didn't see anyone when I was kidnapped. My ignorance saved me.”

Del squeezed Meg's shoulder. “You never gave up on me, Meg.”

She turned to him. “Our promise stands.”

Del blinked away tears. “I'm going back to France.”

“Go to San Francisco first, Del. Little Leland William was born last night. I received the telegram first thing this morning.”

“When are you leaving, Meg?”

Gabe smiled. “She has an engagement ring to pick out.”

Nodding, she looked up at Gabe. “And I have a little girl to welcome.”

March 3, 1920

In the warm spring sunshine, Meg and Gabe stood with his parents and Belle with Corby at her side at the New Orleans dock. Gabe's lips tickled Meg's ear. “I still don't know why the whole clan had to come. Marie is a shy little girl.”

Looking up at him from under the brim of her jaunty new blue hat, Meg grinned and touched his arm. “When she arrives, just pick her up and don't let go of her.” He nodded, but concern for his adopted daughter tightened the lines around his mouth.

Over an hour later, a woman wearing a nurse's white uniform and cap, holding a small child by the hand, stepped off the ramp.

“Marie!” Gabriel scooped the little girl with brown curls into his arms. “This is my daughter, Marie Lenore St. Clair!”

Gabriel's family called out “
Bon jour
, Marie!” The little girl hid her head in Gabriel's neck. Everyone laughed.

Gabriel's mother, the recent founder and president of New Orleans' first Ladies Political Discussion Society, came forward in a chic new purple dress and hat. “Gabriel, please tell her that I am her grandmother.”