When Kitty felt the metal tip pressed against her back, she knew exactly what it was. An unfortunate fact of her life was that she'd been taken by gunpoint before. Clarice gripped her arm, "Let's take a walk." Paul stayed close so no one could see the gun. Kitty's eyes flashed, "I don't suppose you want to tell me what this is all about?"
"I think you know, Kitty." Clarice smiled, trying to appear natural "We'll discuss it when we reach our destination, or you can make it easy and give us the key right now. You see, we've known all along why you came to New Orleans."
Kitty didn't respond. Her head was reeling. When she told Paul and Clarice that she wouldn't be joining them today, she'd expected understanding, acceptance or even disappointment, but not the quiet rage they threw at her. Now she was being taken at gunpoint to some unknown place because they were sure she had some key. A key to what? The best she could for now was stay calm and alert. A chance to escape might present itself.
Matt
Matt sat in the back of the train with his duffle bag on the seat beside him. There were plenty of seats elsewhere, and he wanted to avoid having anyone next to him trying to make small talk. The thick, red notebook, that Muriel Stewart had given him, was on his lap. He flipped through the pages. It was filled with sketches, diary entries, recipes, notes and lists. He went back to the beginning, this time slowly going page by page. The first pages were covered with sketches - wild pigs, exotic lamps, elephants, intriguing buildings, strange hats, elaborate masks and ships, many ships. Beneath each ship was a neatly printed name and anywhere from 1 to 5 stars. Presumably, a rating system. Next he came to drawings of two beautiful little girls. One drew him like a magnet. A smile touched his lips. The cheeks were rounder and the freckles more pronounced, but there was no mistaking Kitty Russell's special beauty. Amazingly the warmth of her smile and wisdom in her eyes were there already. The other sketch was of a light haired child he didn't recognize. He continued turning pages and came to an entry written 30 years ago – Rosie and Kitty are the sweetest children. They've suffered in their young lives and carry that in their souls, but it's made them more beautiful and wiser. Today I told them about my travels to the Ivory Coast, with it's huge palm trees and fantastic drummers. Their eyes grew big with wonder. Clarice of course ridiculed me. To her, the only thing I'm good for is money for fancy clothes and jewelry.
Matt frowned. This had to be the same Rosie that Kitty exchanged letters with a couple of times a year. Kitty talked about the letters, but had never mentioned her friend's last name. He continued going through the pages. More sketches, recipes for gumbo and grits, scattered notes and diary entries. It was clear that Max was raising Rosie and Clarice, and that Clarice had no respect or gratitude. Kitty lived nearby and he cared deeply about her.
Poor little Kitty Russell, her mother tries her best but her father is a no good fool who gambles and squanders money. I help as much as I can, without hurting Mrs. Russell's pride. Kitty spends a lot of time with Rosie and me. We are quite the trio, 2 six year olds and a retired sailor.
I caught Clarice stealing money from my room. When I said money should be earned she scoffed and left. I know the money was still in her pocket. She thinks I'm a fool.
Matt kept turning pages. More sketches, recipes and a few Walt Whitman poems. Finally, near the end of the book there were two recent entries. The first was from 2 months ago.
Clarice and Paul are desperate for the riches I have locked away. They bribed policemen to arrest me for so-called acts of insanity. That's enough to have me put away, and they're coming for me soon. There's no time to get the key to Rosie. I'll keep it with me and try to make sure she gets it when I die. I'm so proud of Rosie, she became a teacher and loves her little students.
The last entry was from a little over a month ago.
Oh my God. I heard 2 guards talking about whether or not to tell me Rosie is dead. They say it was a heart attach. That's nonsense, a healthy woman in her 30's does not die of a heart attack. Clarice and Paul must have thought she had the key. They'll stop at nothing to get it. Now they will figure out I have it with me. I must escape. Rosie told me once, a long time ago, that Kitty Russell went to Dodge City, a place in Kansas. I'll try to get there. I can't give the key to Rosie, so I'll get it to Kitty. I need a plan, but it's hard to think. I'm surrounded by screams, cries and wails of grief. Anyone who is sane when they get here will surely be driven mad over time."
Matt closed the notebook and took a deep breath. There was a possibility that he'd just read the rants of a crazy old man. Most people in an insane asylum probably think they're sane. The idea that one of his granddaughters killed the other seems far-fetched. And what about those so-called riches? Were they truly valuable or even real? He died with just $30 in his pocket, and sailors were a breed of men given to tall tales and exaggeration. He pictured Max Le Croix asking him if he loved Kitty. The old man's eyes demanded that he speak the truth. Matt tapped the notebook with a finger. The train couldn't get to New Orleans fast enough. Every word in that notebook was true. He had to get to Kitty.
New Orleans
Clarice and Paul led Kitty down an isolated street passed empty lots and small ugly buildings. Near the end of the street Paul unlocked the door of a nondescript, one-story building and shoved Kitty inside. She glanced around. It looked like an empty storeroom – no furniture, lamps or decorations – nothing but dust.
Clarice closed the door behind them and Paul put his gun away. "Kitty, make things easy and hand over the key. We'll even give you a going away gift, a ticket back to – where was it – Kansas?"
"I don't have any key, and I don't know what you're talking about."
Clarice muttered, "Stupid bitch" and walked to a corner of the room. "You'll regret your stubbornness, Kitty." She crouched down and opened a trap door that led to a staircase. "Let's go." Clarice went down first. Paul pushed Kitty in front of him and followed. As soon as they got downstairs Kitty felt a drastic change in temperature. The basement was icy cold and very damp. It was empty except for three wooden chairs, and some ropes on the floor in a corner.
Paul pointed to the wall, "If you look carefully, you'll see a key hole. It's a cleverly hidden wall safe. We couldn't find a way to break it open and obviously explosives would damage the contents, so we need the key. Hand it over." He moved closer and spoke quietly almost coaxingly, "Come on, make it easy on yourself."
"I do not have any key."
Clarice stepped in front of Paul and slapped Kitty hard across the face, "Liar. I admit we made a mistake when we thought Rosie had the key, but we know you have it. That's why you came to New Orleans after all this time. We're not stupid."
Kitty saw the look in Clarice's eyes, and her stomach lurched. "You killed Rosie, didn't you? You murdered your own sister, a wonderful, beautiful woman. You're disgusting."
Clarice lifted her arm to smack Kitty again. Paul caught her hand, "Let's not go so fast. I'll tie her up and we'll leave her here without food and water. Tomorrow she'll be more co-operative."
"Of course, my dear." Clarice spoke through gritted teeth. "Let's not waste our energy."
Paul picked up some ropes and tied Kitty's hands behind her back. He shoved her to the floor and tied her ankles together. "By the way, you can yell until you're hoarse, no one will hear. Spend the night thinking about how simple things would be if you just handed over that key." The couple went up the stairs and locked the trap door behind them. They exited the building not knowing that Joe Jones had followed them, and was watching from across the street. Jones frowned when he saw the couple exit without the nice redhead. Maybe he should do something - tell someone. On the other hand, Mr. Benet was a rich man, and he had a gun. A man like that could bring a heap of trouble to a dark skinned porter's life. Anyway, rich people's issues were none of his business. Jones took a last look at the building and went home.
TBC