Chapter 5

Revelations

"Then before I haul you away to join Garret in the town's jail, would you care to enlighten me?" Woody replied, a sneer on his lips and behind his voice. He knew this woman…business person or paramour … was somehow behind Natalie's murder.

"Whoa, Mr. Hoyt. I didn't say I was behind it. I said I know who's probably behind it. "

Woody stifled a sigh and pulled her along the side of the ship, trying to find somewhere that they wouldn't be overheard. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, "is there anywhere your staff isn't at?"

"I hope not. That's why they're paid. To be at the passengers' beck and call and watch out for anything that may happen," Jordan answered soberly.

"Then I guess they weren't too successful last night. Or does your captain always get away with murder?"

"Garret did not murder that girl," Jordan replied sharply and with a huff. "And if you'd stop dragging me along, I'll stop somewhere that we can talk." She pulled her arm out of his grip and hurried in front of him, taking the stairs two at a time and finally opening the door to her own small bedroom. Woody followed her closely, never letting her get out of arm's reach. "Here," she said shutting the door behind them and throwing on the snib. "We won't be bothered here."

"Are you sure? What about your English friend?" Woody spat out.

"Nigel?" If he didn't know better, he would swear her voice held a note of incredulousness.

"Yes. Mr. Townsend."

Jordan shrugged. "Don't worry. If he does drop by, he'll knock."

"Tell me, does he always take so kindly to you inviting strangers into your bedroom?"

Jordan bit her lip. She was more than aware of what the staff and most of the passengers on the Delta Marker thought about her and Nigel and their "relationship." And up until now, this very moment, the context of what she and Nigel had together had been a comfort to her, not a distraction or a pitfall … at least to her. Never one for convention, she could care less what people thought. Nigel had kept her safe. Nigel had always looked out for her best interests.

So why did this arrogant detective's perception of her now matter so much? She pushed the thought down and concentrated on freeing Garret. "You said you wanted to know who was behind Natalie's murder," she replied, skillfully changing the subject.

Woody nodded and leaned against one of her posts of her four-poster bed. "Yeah. I need to know what you think, since your reaction to the note found on the girl was so noticeable, Rosebud." His voice inflected what he thought.

Jordan found her hands twisting themselves in knots. Finally, she took a deep breath, found her courage and laced her fingers together before sitting down on the side of the bed, facing away from Woody.

"Rosebud was what he used to call me," she began in an anxious whisper. "It was my nickname." She paused and glanced at Woody, giving him a nervous smile. "He being JD Pollack."

Pollack, Pollack, Pollack… Woody mentally ran the name through his head, comparing it against all the cases he had either had himself or other Pinkerton agents had over the course of his year in New Orleans. He came up empty and frowning. "Pollack? Who is he?"

Jordan carefully smoothed out the front of her dress. "JD is from New England. A real up-state dandy. Good gambler. Good storyteller. An even better cad." She paused for a moment.

Woody raised an eyebrow. "Go on," he softly urged. Whoever this Pollack was, he was causing Miss Cavanaugh some discomfort.

"You have to understand it was a long time ago…nearly a lifetime ago," She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. "It was right after my guardian died and I took ownership of the boat."

"Your guardian?"

She nodded. "Gentleman Jim. Then the boat was called The Delta Belle. I changed the name right after his death."

"Too many bad memories and you wanted to start over?" Woody asked, his voice softening. He knew from experience what it was like being an orphan and depending on others for sustenance. He had no idea this woman came from a similar background. That would explain her independence…and possibly her unconventional way of doing things.

"Something like that," she murmured, her fingers going back to lacing themselves in knots. "I was young and didn't have the staff around me that I do now…people that look out for the Marker's best interest." She took another deep breath. "Pollack…JD…was a riverboat gambler…and he desperately wanted a boat of his own. When he found out that the Marker was owned by a woman, he assumed I would be eager to sell it and move on with my life on land. He had no idea that Jim raised me on the boat and I had no intentions of selling…ever. When he discovered that the Marker wasn't for sale…"

"He tried to wine and dine you," Woody finished in a flat voice. He had heard the story far too many times for the ending to change very often.

"Yes. Let me emphasized that he tried, Mr. Hoyt. And he was very skillful." Woody watched a slow blush rise to her cheeks. "But when he discovered that my final word concerning the Delta Marker was 'no' …. Let's just say he wasn't very happy to have wasted all his time, efforts, and money on me. He vowed to get even….to eventually run me out of business and off the river….let me get so destitute that I would practically give him the boat." She turned and looked at him then.

And Woody read a world of hurt in those whiskey-colored eyes. He couldn't see a man using her like that now…but a younger, more vulnerable Jordan…one that was reeling from the death of her guardian and the responsibilities of a riverboat. He'd bet that the hurt had never truly healed, either. He shook himself back into the present. "So you think that this is part of Pollack's plan to get back at you and take possession of the Marker."

"It makes sense. Especially after you found that note…"

Woody nodded. "Who else knows about Pollack?"

"None of the crew…this was before I fired all the previous employees under Jim."

"You kept no one from his crew?" That was nearly unheard of.

"They couldn't be trusted," she replied softly, glancing back down at her hands. Woody could have sworn her heard her voice quiver a little. Just what had this woman gone through?

"You're sure it couldn't be one of them?" He had to ask. It was his job.

"No."

"But you said they couldn't be trusted."

"They may have hated me for firing them, but I'd go to the wall saying none of them are capable of murder, Mr. Hoyt."

"So…." He continued, blowing out a breath he had long been holding. "What about this Townsend fellow? Does he know about Pollack?"

"Nigel?" Jordan had to grin. "Nigel wouldn't have harmed a hair on the girl's head."

"You haven't answered all of my question. Did he know about Pollack?"

Jordan lowered her head and nodded.

"Everything?"

She nodded again.

"Her father said the man that was flirting with his daughter had an accent. Maybe since Townsend knows about Pollack, he is behind this…"

"A New England accent. Nigel's British."

"But when a parent is trying to vainly remember details about his daughter's life, all the accents could run together. What if your Mr. Townsend was flirting with this girl and wanted to take it further, and she said no…"

"It wasn't Nigel," Jordan replied in a firm voice.

"You seem very confident about your boyfriend."

She chuckled then. An action that threw Woody off guard. "I am."

"Men have been known to stray in the past, Miss Cavanaugh," he protested, pushing her, determined to get some answers behind this strange situation with the female riverboat owner.

"Not Nigel."

"What makes you so sure?" If he kept pushing her, he knew he'd get answers.

"I just am," she answered evasively, getting up and moving to the door to open it and let him out. "We're finished here, Mr. Hoyt. I've told you all I know."

"I don't think so," Woody replied. In a swift movement, he snibbed the lock closed again, took her by the arm and sat her firmly back on the bed again. Jordan tried to bolt off the side and grab her derringer, only to find that in another smooth move, Woody had taken that, too. "You're going to tell me why you don't think your Nigel…a man with an accent…couldn't have been behind the death of this girl. And we're not leaving this room until you do."


Jordan listened to the clock tick the minutes away…it was morning now…bright morning and she knew that if she didn't make an appearance downstairs before long, the crew would be up and looking for her. "Mr. Hoyt…I need to go," she implored. "After everything that has happened, if I don't show up soon, they're going to come looking for me and it won't be pretty."

"Let them look. I want answers Miss Cavanaugh. And so does Natalie's father. And Natalie deserves them. You may have told me part of the truth, but not the whole truth. What makes you so sure that Mr. Townsend had nothing to do with Natalie?"

Jordan sighed deeply. Nigel's secret had always been safe with her…she had told no one. He had asked her not to. "I can't tell you," she replied.

"Can't or won't?"

"Can't"

"Then we're going to spend the rest of the day in your room until you feel you can."

"Mr. Hoyt….I need to leave."

"Then tell me why you feel that Townsend had nothing to do with this … and then maybe you and he both will be out from under my suspicions." Woody narrowed his eyes at her.

Jordan shut her eyes and swallowed her better judgment. "Then what I tell you now must never leave this room. You must promise me you'll never tell anyone…or do anything to make Nigel suspect that you know…"

"Know what?" Woody raised his eyebrows.

"No….not until you promise me….your word as a ….gentleman." Jordan looked Woody up and down before she said the last word with a sneer.

Taking a deep breath and going against his better judgment, Woody replied, "I promise…I won't breathe a word of this outside this room. Ever."

"Good." Jordan paused for a moment, trying to find the right words that would somehow sanitize the situation, but none were coming to mind. If there were any at all.

Somehow she didn't think there were.

"Nigel wouldn't have flirted with Natalie…because he couldn't."

Woody's eyebrows grazed his hairline again. "Nigel doesn't like young girls?" Very few things shocked him now…living a year in New Orleans had taken any surprise he had over any sexual situation away.

"No…not exactly."

"Nigel doesn't like girls at all?"

"No…" Jordan wrung her hands. This was going badly and with every moment she felt as if she were betraying her friend.

Woody sputtered. "Then what?" he asked, his voice rising to a dangerously loud note.

"Sh….someone could hear," Jordan cautioned.

"Townsend's in here enough that it should surprise no one to hear a man's voice coming from your bedroom," Woody rampaged.

"NO!" Jordan nearly screamed the words at him in a whisper. "Nigel wouldn't have been flirting with Natalie because he can't follow through. Nigel …Nigel…Nigel had scarlet fever…and….and…"

"He's impotent."

Jordan nodded, her cheeks flushing true red now.

Things clicked in Woody's mind then, faster than dealing cards at the next poker game. "So the time that Nigel spends in here….with you…."

"Is all a ruse. To make people think that I'm 'taken' so the male passengers will leave me alone. Now can I please go now? The crew will be worried about me." She stood and walked over to the door, but paused, as if asking his permission before unlocking the door and tending to her morning business.

Woody looked at her closely. There was still something about hers and Townsend's relationship she wasn't telling him, but it could wait. The important thing was that Woody now knew for a fact that Nigel, despite his accent, couldn't be implicated in Natalie's death.

And couldn't be sleeping with Jordan. A fact that made him feel oddly relieved for some reason.

"Mr. Hoyt? Can I go? We're expecting a new couple to board this morning and I need to make sure their stateroom is ready. They're on their honeymoon."

Woody shook himself and walked over to the door and opened it. "A new couple? Who are they?"

"They're just boarding so they don't have anything to do with Natalie's murder. Their names are Lu and Matt Seely." Jordan pushed past him and made her way downstairs, never hearing Woody's audible groan behind her.

"Miss Cavanaugh, wait," he called out.

"Mr. Hoyt…You have held me up for quite long enough. I have answered all your questions to the very best of my ability and have been shockingly honest with you. Now if you don't mind…."

"Miss Cavanaugh…Jordan…I don't care what you do or how you do it, but Lu and Matt Seely do not need to board this boat. They can't."

Jordan tilted her head at Woody. If he had had her flustered over the last several hours, just her mentioning the Seely's names seemed to have upset the Pinkerton detective to no end.

A fact she planned to use to her advantage if needed.

"I don't think I can stop them now, Mr. Hoyt. And I need the money. Over half the passengers disembarked after we found Natalie."

"Just.. don't let them board. I'll have the agency make it up to you, I promise."

This time she narrowed her eyes at him. "Why?"

Woody swallowed hard and pulled at his collar that had become entirely too tight in the span of a few minutes. "Because…my cover will be blown. Mrs. Seely…Lu…knows me."

"Then she must know that your anonymity is extremely important. Good day, Mr. Hoyt."

"No….wait." He grabbed her shoulder with desperation. He had to stop the Seely's from boarding the boat at all costs. "That wouldn't matter to her at all…she'd love blowing my cover."

Jordan narrowed her eyes and asked again, "Why?"

"Because….because I was once engaged to her…"

"And obviously didn't marry her. A fact she should be eternally grateful for, I'm sure. But that still doesn't make me want to put her off the boat. You'll have to do better than that."

Woody tugged at his collar again. "I left her standing at the altar," he finally whispered, lowering his eyes to examine his shoes.