New Orleans

Clarice Benet, formerly Clarice Le Croix, impatiently pushed a strand of long dark hair from her angular face and looked out her living room window. Her husband, Paul Benet, had gone to the train station hours ago and should have been back by now. She spotted him turning the corner and smiled, hoping the spring in his step meant that things had gone well. Unable to wait, she opened the door as soon as she heard his footsteps on the stairs. "Hello darling. Did things go as we hoped?"

Benet shed his jacket and hung it in the hall closet, "Yes, indeed. Those porters will do anything for a few dollars. Joe, the tall, skinny one, greeted the redhead I thought was Kitty Russell. I was correct. She was recognizable even after all these years. Joe found out she's staying at the Column Hotel, and has been living in Dodge City, Kansas all this time."

"Good Lord, why on earth would she live there? How did she look? I hear life in that part of the country is hard on a woman."

Paul shrugged. "She looked great. She was a kid when she left, but the hair is still amazing, the eyes still stunning and her skin has a lovely glow. The figure she developed is quite nice too."

"Are you trying to make me jealous, my dear?"

"Of course not." He studied his wife's face, with her high cheekbones, sharp nose and small, almond shaped eyes. A face one could perhaps call exotic. He smiled, "You're the fairest of them all. The point is, Dodge is where your Grandpa Max Le Croix must have gone when he escaped the loony bin." He sunk down on the sofa and shook his head, "It's amazing that those fools running the asylum couldn't prevent his escape. They should have kept him in chains."

"I agree my dear, especially after all our hard work. Having a sane man committed is no easy feat. I've lost count of the policemen we've bribed. Then, after we finely got him in there, he outsmarted the guards and escaped."

"They underestimated him. I must say though, he couldn't have been in very good health when he ran away. Clarice, are you sure he made it to Kitty and gave her the key?"

"Of course, why else would she suddenly visit New Orleans after all these years. And, to think, we would never have known she was coming, if she hadn't sent that telegram to my sister, Rosemarie. It's a good thing our police lieutenant made sure I got that little wire. He's worth the money we pay him." Clarice sat next to Paul and crossed her legs. "Ah, my dear, departed younger sister, Rosie. She was the best beloved of grandpa Le Croix. I can just hear the old fool saying – Rosie is a beauty inside and out. Her friend, little Kitty Russell, is too – what bunk."

Paul saw the fury in his wife's eyes and wanted to stop the tirade he knew was coming. "Now's not the time to go over all that. We have a plan to put into play. Let's get to Charles Street and have a chance encounter with Kitty. She has your grandfather's key, and we are going to get it from her."

Dodge City

Matt sat in his office and ran a hand across his tired eyes. He'd spend the day going through a backlog of mail and meeting with annoyed farmers, angry ranchers and anyone else who had an issue he was supposed to magically solve. He mostly pretended to listen. Worry about Kitty and frustration at having to wait days for a train consumed him. He took a sip of tepid coffee and pulled the small, silver key from his pocket. It was too small to be a house key – maybe a closet, a chest, a jewelry box. He had no idea, he only knew that after Max Le Croix handed him that key, he died with a lot left unsaid. Matt shoved the key back in his pocket, stood and grabbed his hat from a wall peg. It was a quiet night, but he'd go ahead and make nightly rounds – for the third time.

New Orleans

After getting recommendations from the hotel concierge, Kitty decided upon a nice, but small restaurant in the neighborhood. She dressed with particular care, wanting to be stylish yet modest. A woman dining alone could be looked at as improper, but with style and the right attitude she could make it work. She put on a royal blue dress, set a matching hat on her head, and draped a lacy, beige shawl over her shoulders. After walking two blocks she lifted her chin and went into Le Coq D'or. The maître-de hurried over, "Good evening, Madame. Allow me to show you to a table. How many are expected?"

"It will just be…"

"Kitty, Kitty Russell – is it really you?"

She turned towards the door and saw a man and woman coming towards her, wearing big smiles. They seemed familiar, and she searched through her memories of New Orleans, "Clarice? Clarice Le Croix and Paul – Paul Benet?"

They nodded enthusiastically and the dark haired woman spoke, "We were walking down the street and saw your red hair." She giggled. "Then we got a look at your face and thought - that has to be Kitty Russell. I can't believe it. I can't believe you're in New Orleans. Oh, and Paul and I got married some time ago, so now I'm Clarice Benet."

Paul took his wife's arm and beamed. "Kitty, unless you're waiting for someone else, we'd love to join you and talk about old times."

Kitty smiled at the maître-de, "A table for three please."

Seated together at a prime table near a window Kitty looked at Clarice and Paul, "Did Rosie tell you I was coming? I sent her a telegram. I can't wait to see her."

Paul took his wife's hand and shook his head sadly. "No, we knew nothing about a telegram. Like Clarice said, we just happened to be walking by. If – if you sent a telegram to Rosie, she never got it. I – I to hate to have to tell you this, but the Good Lord took poor Rosemarie about a month ago."

"Oh no – I'm so sorry. Rosie and I kept in touch, but months went by between letters. I had no idea."

Clarice blinked back tears, "My sweet sister developed a heart condition. I doubt she ever wrote you about it. She hated the thought of anyone worrying about her." Clarice closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before whispering hoarsely, "We found, poor Rosie dead in her home. My only consolation was that she died quickly, and didn't suffer."

Slowly shaking her head, Kitty tried to find the right words. Paul broke the silence, "We all loved Rosie, and we all knew her well enough to know that she'd want us to celebrate her life with a good dinner and some fine wine. Let's start with the wine."

Kitty looked across the table at the couple. Something was odd about their quick changes in tone. Clarice read the look on Kitty's face. She leaned forward and gently set her hand on Kitty's, "It's been a trying time. I do think Rosie would appreciate a toast."

Kitty smiled sympathetically, "Yes, let's toast to Rosie."

TBC