Two Days Later

Kitty sat in the Column Hotel's carefully cultivated garden, enjoying a moment of peace and solitude. She tilted her head back and felt the warmth of the morning sun on her face. The sweet scent of flowers was intoxicating. She pictured herself in a garden like this at home. Why not? All she needed was a small patch of land where she could plant a garden of her own design. She'd ask Matt if he knew of a good location. Matt - she smiled slightly – her thoughts turned to him so naturally. No matter what she saw or did in New Orleans, she couldn't wait to tell him about it.

"Here you go, Miss Russell." A waiter from the hotel coffee shop broke into her musings. He carefully placed a cup of coffee, two sweet rolls and copy of the New Orleans Morning Sun on the table next to her. "Enjoy your morning."

She smiled her thanks and as he walked away, realized how much she was indeed enjoying the morning. Moments of real relaxation had been rare since her dinner with Paul and Clarice. They'd been insistently eager to escort her around the city, barely leaving her alone for a moment. It was odd. She hadn't been close to either of them when they were young. Perhaps they were trying to make up for the fact that Rosie was gone, but the intensity of their watchfulness made her nervous. It might be time to politely phase out of their plans. She took a sip of coffee and unfolded the newspaper. Her eyes ran down the front page – concert listings, wedding announcements, a robbery, bar brawls, houses for sale. She bolted upright - a name jumped out - Max Le Croix. She set her cup down and read carefully.

Mr. Max Le Croix, age 84, is still missing. As previously reported, he escaped from the New Orleans Asylum for the Insane. Anyone with information about Mr. Le Croix should contact Lieutenant Roget at police headquarters, 12B Christopher Street.

Kitty dropped the newspaper on her lap. Max Le Croix was a figure from her childhood, but she hadn't thought about him for years. He was Clarice and Rosemarie's grandfather, and more. Clarice was 9 and Rosie 5, when their parents died in a yellow fever epidemic and Grandpa Max took them in. He was loving, full of life, and prone to the kind of sailor's language that was thought unsuitable for kids. She was the same age as Rosie, and had never known her own grandparents, so he treated her like one of his. He always said that she and Rosie were sweet souls. The two of them would sit with him for hours, transfixed by tales of his seafaring adventures – exotic islands, amazing animals, beautiful dancers, mountains of gold, glittering jewels and on and on. They couldn't get enough. Clarice, on the other hand, found him an embarrassment and ridiculed his seafaring ways – his clothes, stories, raucous laugh, even his cooking. He did his best for Clarice, but there was no warmth between them. Still, it was weird that Clarice hadn't mentioned Max being in an asylum or his escape. Surely she'd outgrown the animosity she felt for him as a child. You'd think she'd be worried sick.

Kitty finished her coffee and thought about the past few days. Paul and Clarice had asked over and over, what had brought her back to New Orleans after so many years. No answer seemed to satisfy them. They were with her all the time, yet they'd never mentioned Grandpa Le Croix being missing. Something strange was going on, and whatever it was, she wanted no part of it. Today, she'd wait for them outside as usual, but she'd tell them firmly that she had other plans. She was finished sightseeing with Clarice and Paul Benet.

Dodge City

Doc neared the train depot and spotted Matt in his traveling coat, with his duffle bag in hand, pacing up and down the station. The good doctor planted himself in Matt's path. "Festus said you headed here over an hour ago. You must have walked 10 miles pacing back and forth."

"Thought the train might be early." Matt stared down the track.

"It's never early, but even if it arrived early, it wouldn't leave early."

Matt gave Doc a sour look. "Listen Matt, you're going to get to New Orleans and find out that Kitty is fine. The business with the old man and the key will turn out to be perfectly innocent. You and Kitty will have a nice few days in New Orleans, and come back together."

"Doc, you don't believe that any more than I do."

Doc scratched behind his ear in tacit agreement and the two men waited in silence. The train pulled up right on time. Matt was eager to board, "Wish me luck Doc. I'm going to need it, all I have to go on is a small silver key."

"Doc, Marshal Dillon, wait please." The two men turned and saw a small, thin woman hurrying towards them."

"Muriel, Muriel Stewart." Doc reached out and took her hand, "What's wrong, what brings you from Hays and the sick folks you tend to."

She put a hand on her chest and caught her breath. Matt looked at the train, itching to board. "Marshal, it's about the man who passed away on my couch, Mr. Le Croix. When I was going through his things to prepare him for burial I found this." She held out a red notebook. "It has drawings, notes and names. I was going to bury it with him, but I saw that one of the names was Kitty Russell, so I thought you might want it – I don't even know for what purpose. It's just a thought."

"Thank you, it could be exactly what I need." He tucked the notebook under an arm. "Marshal, I also found $30 in his pockets. I don't know of any next of kin to send it to."

Matt smiled, "Keep it, Muriel. I'm sure you'll find good use for it."

"Marshal, are you getting aboard?" The conductor was waiting to signal the engineer. "We don't want to get behind schedule." Matt quickly climbed on, the whistle blew and the train took off.

Muriel turned to Doc. "Should I really keep this money, like Marshal Dillon said?"

"If Matt says keep it, trust him on that."

She smiled and looked almost girlish, "Doc, do you know of any good medicines I can buy with this amount?"

"I sure do. Come to my office and we'll figure it out."

New Orleans

Clarice threw an envelope on the hall table in disgust, and look into the large, ornate mirror that hung above it. Paul was standing behind her. She ran a finger under one eye. "I fear the stress of getting that key is aging me." Paul didn't respond. She turned sharply to face him, "Don't you think I'm still beautiful. More beautiful than any woman – Rosie or Kitty for example."

"You are the fairest of them all, Clarice. I've told you that many times."

She crossed her arms, "Paul, we need that key. We got another foreclosure notice from the bank."

He shrugged, "The payments on this house are high, as is the price of bribing police officers, not to mention the cost of maintaining the life style we're best suited for. My family inheritance is almost spent, so we're running out of money. You promised we'd have your grandfather's wealth to live on when my money was gone."

"We will, and we deserve it after all we've been through - the bribes we had to pay to have my grandfather committed, the work of ransacking his house and going through every damn article of clothing he owns. Of course after that, we assumed Rosie had the key. Trying to beat it out of her was most unpleasant."

Paul shook his head sadly, "Rosie started out a beauty and ended up a mess of bruises, blood and broken bones."

"She was NEVER that beautiful, and think of the cost of bribing the police lieutenant and coroner to lie about her cause of death." She pushed her hair back with both hands, the rage in her face was clear. "Damn Grandpa Le Croix. With Rosie gone the key should have been mine. BUT NO – he had to run off and find other one he deemed deserving, Kitty Russell.

"Let's stay calm Clarice." He put a hand on her shoulder. "We know that Kitty must have the key, but where? I searched her hotel room when you had her out shopping. You searched her purse in the ladies room. She either carries it on her person or has it hidden somewhere. Where ever it is we need it soon."

Clarice reached up and patted Paul's hand. "If we can't get easily today, the storeroom where Rosie died awaits. Let's hope she hands it over quickly. I'd rather not go through that unpleasantness again."

Kitty's Hotel

Wearing his porter's uniform, Joe Jones stood across the street from the Column Hotel staring at the entrance. He had a good thing going. After his porter's job at the train station in the morning, he went home to sleep, and then came here to stand outside the hotel all night. The job was to watch for Miss Russell. If she left the hotel during the night, he was to follow her and see if she got some key from a hiding place. If she did, he had to grab it and bring it to Mr. Benet. It seemed like rich people's nonsense to him. No lady would go out alone in the middle of the night, in New Orleans. All that mattered was that Mr. Benet came every morning and paid him $2. He stifled a yawn just as Kitty emerged from the hotel. As usual, she stood by the front door and waited.

"Hello Joe."

"Oh, good morning Mr. Benet. Miss Russell just came out. She's probably waiting for you and your wife, like always." Paul slipped $2 into Joe's hand. "You've done a good job but we won't be needing you after this."

Clarice and Paul crossed the street to greet Kitty. Joe started to leave but something held him in place. He was too far to hear words, but he could see a conversation start with smiles but quickly turn angry. Miss Russell backed away. Mrs. Benet grabbed her arm, and Mr. Benet pulled something from his pocket and shoved it in her back. They started walking, moving down the street, a unit of three people.

Jones didn't move. It looked like Miss Russell was being taken at gunpoint, but what was he supposed to do? Anything he did would likely bring him trouble. He kept his eyes on the trio. When they were almost out of sight his feet started moving. He wished those feet were taking him to work, instead he found himself following the three people, at a safe distance.

TBC