Christie And The Hellcat Part 40

"How so?"

"Way I figure it, most of Blue's troubles stem from Fred. That skunk is mad at us but he's taking it out on your brother. You go to Contention to help him, and it'll be like waving a red rag at a bull" Christie tried to interrupt but Zee held up a hand. "No, darlin'. Hear me out. Fred's dangerous." She gestured at her cheek and her bandaged ribs. "And he's got friends. Someone could get hurt.

And if it was you, I'd never . . ." She trailed off.

Zee was right, Christie realized with a feeling of frustration. She 262 wanted to make Blue's life better not worse. But how . . . An idea came to her.

"Suppose Fred didn't feel the need to punish Blue anymore?

Suppose he was able to crow about me, instead. To gloat and say 'I told you so' to my face?"

"I don't like the sound of"

"You've had your turn, let me finish. Suppose he thinks he's won?

That might defuse his anger, mightn't it? Make him leave Blue alone?"

"It might." Zee's gaze was somber. "But I wouldn't count on it.

Anyway, just how are you gonna do that?"

Christie was quite taken with the simplicity of her solution. "I'm going to break up with you."

Zee's jaw dropped. It was the perfect opportunity to kiss her, and Christie took it.

GIF.

The waiting train vented steam and whistled, a mournful sound reflecting Zee's mood.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all," said Christie suddenly.

Zee breathed a sigh of relief. From the first, she had thought the plan half-baked. If Zee was any judge of character, the only way to persuade Fred to back off was to find some hold over him.

"It's not too late to change your mind," she told Christie, who was looking very fetching in the turquoise traveling dress Julie Fontenot had helped her make.

"And do what instead?" The green eyes were reproachful. "I can't just sit around doing nothing, Zee. I have to help Blue somehow. And your way will take time."

Zee shrugged. "Go to Contention then, if you must. But you know what I think of the idea."

"I do. But humor me anyway." Zee gave her a wry smile and Christie wrinkled her nose delightfully at her. "Thank you." A thoughtful silence fell, then Christie continued, "Suppose there's nothing to find on Fred."

"Man like him, there's bound to be something."

"Well all right. But how will you find it?"

263.

"I won't." Zee tapped the side of her nose. "But I know someone else who will."

"Oh . . . It won't be for long, anyway." Christie gave her hand a squeeze.

"Better not. Gonna be tough not having you around to kiss and cuddle."

"It certainly is." Christie heaved a gloomy sigh.

"Wish I was coming with you."

"So do I. But you have things to do. And I'm sure Fred won't hurt me, Zee."

Wish I was. "Not physically, perhaps, but he's gonna say things.

'Bout you and me. Things I'd tear his tongue out for if I was there."

"I can take it."

"'Course you can. You got s.p.u.n.k, I know that." Zee smiled at Christie. "Just you remember, darlin', no matter how hard he tries to, he can't dirty what's between you and me. I'm yours for good, and I ain't ashamed of that." She squeezed Christie's hand for emphasis.

"And when I'm through finding Jenny, I'm coming to get you."

"Just take care of yourself."

Zee gave a frustrated sigh. If only But it couldn't be helped. She couldn't go with Christie, and that was an end of it. The thought made her pull out her pocket watch and check it. Plenty of time before her appointment.

The train whistle blew again, louder and more impatient this time.

Then again.

"She's getting set to depart. Let's get you on board." Zee helped Christie up the steps into the carriage, then returned for the cases.

When Christie was installed in a good window seat, her luggage stowed nearby, she turned to say goodbye.

What Zee wanted, more than anything, was to kiss Christie. But some of the other pa.s.sengers eyeing her would be getting off at Contention too. She couldn't risk revealing Christie's play this early in the game.

She drew herself up to her full height. "Safe journey, Miss Hayes.

Give my regards to your brother."

Christie's startled disappointment gave way to comprehension.

"Thank you, Deputy Brodie," she said, equally formal. "I will."

Back on the station platform, Zee gazed up at the lovely face behind the soot-streaked gla.s.s. Christie glanced to either side, then 264 mouthed, "I love you."

Zee stifled a grin. "Me too," she mouthed back. The train lurched forward. The two women locked gazes and Zee kept pace with Christie for as long as she could, but soon the train left her behind.

Chapter 4.

He was waiting for her as arranged, sitting in the far corner of the Last Chance Saloon, chair pressed against the wall, gaze trained on the street door.

If Hogan hadn't told her about Charlie Judkins' background, she would have dismissed him. "Nondescript" was the word, she decided. He could be anyone, go anywhere without attracting attention.

Good.

She nodded a greeting and noted that the shot gla.s.s on the stained table in front of him was empty. She appropriated another gla.s.s and some whiskey from the bartender, then made her way over.

"Judkins?" He nodded. "Brodie."

She put the bottle and gla.s.s on the table, placed her hat next to them, then sat down. His clothes were clean but well worn and slightly old-fas.h.i.+oned, and his graying hair and mustache needed a trim.

Though he wasn't small, his self-effacing manner gave the impression that he was. The ex-Pinkerton detective had been giving Zee the once-over too, his gaze lingering on her tin star before returning to her bruised cheek and eye.

He'll do.

She poured whiskey into the two gla.s.ses and pushed his toward him. "Thanks for coming." She downed her drink in one, wincing as the cheap whiskey found a cut on the inside of her lip, then wiping her mouth on the back of her gloved hand. He c.o.c.ked his head to one side, inviting her to get down to business.

"All right. Here's what I need." She outlined what she wanted, and he listened until she had finished.

"Just the one man?" He took a gulp of whiskey.

"That's right. But I want to know his every move, no matter how 266 small. He so much as looks at someone, I want to know the when and the where. Round the clock. That clear?" He nodded and she topped up his gla.s.s then her own. "So. Think you can do it?"

"Anything to be found, I'll find it, Deputy." Calculation filled his gaze. "For a price."

He named a figure that made her wince. Hogan had warned her good detectives came expensive, but still . . . They'd have to put off buying that couch for the parlor that Christie had her eye on.

"Got yourself a deal." She pulled off her glove, spat in her palm and held out her hand. He did the same and they shook.

"Half in advance."

Zee pulled the little leather pouch from her vest pocket, and threw it to him. It contained slightly more than he'd asked for. "That do?"

He caught it, undid the tie, and gazed at the half eagles nestling inside.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Deputy." He pocketed the pouch, eased himself out of his seat, and stood up. "I'll be in touch."

He tipped his hat.

"I'm counting on it."

After Judkins had left, Zee topped up her gla.s.s and gazed into it for a while. If he didn't find anything on Fred Younger, she'd have squandered their money for nothing. It was a gamble. But she had a hunch about Christie's ex-fiance, and Zee always bet on her hunches.

She drained the shot gla.s.s, kicked back her chair, and stood up. It was time to get moving on the next item on her list.

GIF.

Madam Angie was in her office doing her accounts. "Brodie." She smiled and pushed away the thick ledger with undisguised relief. "Is this a social call?" She reached for her pipe. "Is Christie with you?"

"No to both." Zee took the seat offered.

Angie tamped tobacco into the bowl and c.o.c.ked her head. "From the state of your face, I'd say you've been brawling."

Zee grunted but didn't enlighten her. "I need a favor."

"Oh?"

"Concerning The Sisters of Charity."

Angie's eyebrows crawled skywards. "You won't find any of them here."

267.

"Reckon I knew that."

They both chuckled, then Angie leaned forward. "It concerns Sister Florence's establishment, I take it?"

"If she's the one who runs that place just outside Fairbank, yeah."

"The Willows. It's an Orphanage."

"More 'n that, from what I hear."

Angie lit up her pipe before answering. "True. The Sisters also take in fallen women, until their babies are born. A good proportion of the children in their care come from that source." She gestured toward the door, through which Zee caught a glimpse of several of the wh.o.r.es taking a break in various states of undress. "Occupational hazard."

"I also heard tell you and one of the Sisters have been," she cast around for the words, "close friends for a while."

Angie crossed her Turkish-trouser-clad ankles and laughed. "My my, you have done your homework, haven't you. Yes, Florence and I are friends. Not in the way you mean though."

"No?"

"I wasn't always a madam, you know. There was a time in my life when things were very . . . bad." Angie's gaze clouded. "Florence wasn't in charge of the orphanage then, of course. That's a recent development. But she always was kind-hearted. Found me and took me in when no one else would. For that I will always count her my dear friend." She forced a smile and Zee knew she wasn't going to hear any more on that particular topic. "So, are you going to tell me what this mysterious favor is?"

"A letter of introduction. Figured the Sisters ain't gonna take too kindly to someone like me," she gestured at herself, "nosing around.

Thought if you could vouch for me, it might prevent them having the vapors."

Angie's eyes gleamed. "But why on earth would you want to?"

Zee held up a hand. "Let's just say I've a hunch one of their current charges is in need of my help, and leave it at that. I'll tell you 'bout it once it's over and done with. All right?"

Angie sighed and sat back. "All right." She opened the desk drawer, pulled out a blank sheet of paper and reached for a pen. While the pen scratched across the page, Zee got up, crossed to the door, folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe. Whistles and catcalls greeted her appearance.