Early The Next Morning

Kitty shivered in her sleep and tried to reach for a blanket. She couldn't move her hands, they were tied behind her. Her eyes popped open. There was no blanket, only a cold and empty room. Yesterday's strange events flooded back. Her ankles were tied together, but she managed to push with her feet and squirm against the wall, to reach a sitting position. She wiggled her numbing fingers, and pressed her dry lips together. Yesterday's breakfast in the garden seemed like a hundred years ago. She tried to organize her thoughts. Paul and Clarice would be back for that key, a key she didn't have. She had to figure a way out of this situation. If Matt knew what was happening, he'd get to her as fast as humanly possible, but she hadn't told Doc or anyone how long she planned to stay in New Orleans. It would take a while for anyone in Dodge to start worrying about her. She was on her own with this one.

A noise made her look up. The trap door opened and Paul descended, followed by Clarice, both wearing jackets. Without a word Paul yanked Kitty to her feet, dragged her to the middle of the room and shoved her into a chair. Clarice sat across from her and pulled out a canteen. "It's funny how fast a person can build up a thirst." She filled a cup with water, smiled at Kitty and drank it down. "And breakfast sounds good about now." She opened a bag and took out two sandwiches. "Ham and eggs, how nice." She handed one to Paul. He pulled a chair over and sat beside her. Both started eating. Clarice pulled her jacket tightly around her and glanced up between bites. "Kitty, all you have to do to get food and water is hand over the key. It's so simple."

"Look, I don't have any key, and I don't know what key you're talking about. Let just end this now. Let me go."

Clarice sighed, "Paul finish your breakfast and do what you have to do. Don't disappoint me."

Paul hurriedly devoured his sandwich and brushed the crumbs from his fingers. "I don't like doing this, but I must." He calmly stood, formed a fist and punched Kitty in the jaw." She flew from the chair. He walked over and was about to yank her to her feet, but Clarice put a hand on his shoulder. "Darling, wait. Let's not handle this the way we did with Rosie. We can be more efficient. Think about it. Unless Kitty managed to hide the key somewhere else, which is doubtful, it must be in her clothing. We'll strip her, and look through every stitch she's wearing. She's a clever woman so we'll have to open every seam and look for hidden pockets. Keep her still my love and I'll get started." Paul turned Kitty onto her back and held her down. Clarice smiled sarcastically. "Here we go. Left foot – right foot. She removed Kitty's shoes and searched them thoroughly before tossing them aside. "Next the skirt." Paul pinned Kitty to the floor with a knee and one hand. He used his other hand to help wrestle her skirt off. She struggled, squirmed and kicked as violently as she could, even with her ankles tied together. "Let go of me, I don't have any key." Paul tightened his grip. Clarice finally had the skirt in her hands. She searched every pocket, hem and seam. Her face grew red. "Damn it." She grabbed Kitty's blouse, and tore it open. Buttons flew across the room. "Hold her up Paul, I don't want to untie her, so I'll have to rip the blouse from her body." Kitty tried to elbow him off and jabbed him in the eye." He winced. His eye was watering, "You're stronger than you look, Kitty." She snarled. "Let go of me." Clarice had the blouse in pieces and frantically searched through every strip and seam. No key. "Obviously we have to go deeper. Hold her Paul, she won't like this." He pinned her to the floor so Clarice could get to her garters and stockings. Kitty kicked with every ounce of strength she had, but she couldn't overcome Paul's iron grip. She was filled with hatred for him. It was clear he enjoyed rendering her helpless. Clarice removed the last pieces of underwear. Kitty was naked except for the ropes binding her ankles and wrists. Her jaw tightened. She was determined to hold back all tears of anger and humiliation. These bastards wouldn't see her cry. Clarice, red-faced and furious. started going through the clothes again, frantically ripping and searching. Paul saw that his wife was full occupied, and moved his hand to Kitty's breast. She thrust her weight forward and bit his hand, drawing blood.

"Ouch."

Clarice looked up. Paul hid his hand. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, "What were you just doing Paul?" "Nothing, fairest of them all. Did you find the key?"

"NO." She looked at Kitty, who was breathless from her struggles. "WHERE IS IT? TELL ME YOU BITCH." Kitty said nothing. Clarice took a step and kicked her in the gut. She noiselessly doubled over, unable to take a breath. Clarice sneered. "Let's leave her here to think. Not too long though. If she freezes to death we'll never get that key."

"All right my dear." Paul looked at Kitty, curled up naked on the floor. It was a shame to let a beauty like that go to waste.

"Come Paul, I'm getting cold."

"Yes, my dear." He followed her up the stairs and out of the building.

The Train Station

Joe Jones stood with a group of porters waiting for the 1st train of the day. His uniform was impeccably clean and his salt and pepper hair neatly combed, but his posture was not as erect as usual. He hadn't slept at all. Thoughts of the friendly red-haired lady, Kitty Russell, had kept him tossing and turning. Maybe things weren't as bad as they looked. Even if they were, what could he do? Police weren't likely to listen to a poor, dark-skinned man telling stories about rich, society folks.

The train pulled in and the conductor opened the doors. Joe pushed his confusing thoughts aside. The first person off was a tall and well-built man. A compelling figure who carried himself with an air of competence and authority. He went by without stopping, carrying a notebook and a duffle bag. Jones turned his attention to the other passengers pouring out of the train. That man didn't need his help.

Matt Dillon hadn't figured out exactly how to go about finding Kitty, but a place to stay was the first thing he needed. He walked past the porters and out of the station, knowing there'd likely be a cheap hotel nearby. Sure enough, there was small building across the street with a simple sign - Hotel/Boarding House. By the looks of it, the kind of place that would fit his budget. He hurried inside and was quickly shown to a room. It met his expectations – small and sparsely furnished with paint peeling off the walls, but it was clean and the price was right. He dropped his duffle bag on the bed. The last customer had left a newspaper there. Matt was putting it in the trash when an item caught his eye.

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.

All right, someplace to start. He tossed off his traveling jacket and put on his vest, it was a lot warmer here than in Kansas. After thinking for a second, he put on his gun belt and badge, deciding that both could come in handy. The hotel manager provided directions' to police headquarters and 15 minutes later he was inside the large white building. He walked passed the front desk, straight to one with the nameplate – Lieutenant Roget. The man felt Matt's presence but continued writing on a pad, "Check in at the front desk."

"My name's Matt Dillon, I'm a US Marshal, Kansas Territory."

Roget quickly looked up, "Marshal, welcome to New Orleans. What brings you here?"

"Lieutenant, I have some information that will be of interest to you. I understand that a man named Max Le Croix is missing. He headed west and got as far as Hays City, Kansas. I'm sorry to say he became quite ill and died there."

"Well, that is most unfortunate. I'll notify the asylum officials. They will not be pleased. This will do nothing for their reputation. I assume you brought along what belongings he had with him when he died. I'll see they go to his next of kin."

Matt's instincts kicked in strong. He didn't trust this man. "Sadly, he had nothing with him."

"Really, nothing at all?"

Matt decided to bait the man. "Nothing at all, but I was with Mr. Le Croix when he died. He mentioned a granddaughter named, Rosie. Is she still in New Orleans?"

Roget looked at Matt and swallowed hard. Something about the tall marshal made him nervous. He took a breath, there was no need for fear. Aside from Paul and Clarice, he and the coroner were the only ones who had seen the bruised and broken body of Rosemarie Le Croix. "Marshal, sadly she died of a heart attack, strange at her young age, but such things happen."

"I see, just one more thing. I'm looking for a friend, a woman named Kitty Russell. I believe she arrived here a few days ago. Do you have any idea where I might find her?"

The officer leaned back in his chair and relaxed, "Marshal, I can't be expected to keep track of everyone who visits New Orleans. I'm sorry, I have not heard of your friend."

Matt nodded. He could see that Roget was telling the truth about one thing. He didn't know where Kitty was. "Good day, Lieutenant."

TBC