The Sapphire Brooch by Katherine Logan (reading eggs books .TXT) 📗

“Okay, you got my attention.” So did a wave of nausea. She put her feet up on the desk and rested her head against the wall.

“Ye look like the blood drained from yer face. Are ye sick?” David asked.

She nodded. “I think I caught something on the train.”

“Ye sure ye’re not pregnant?” David said.

“I told you I failed the test.”

“Ye get false positives and negatives with those, don’t ye?” David said.

“Rarely. But I don’t have any pregnancy symptoms.”

“Nausea is a symptom. Kit’s had it with every bairn.”

Charlotte glared, jaw clenching. “So is travel, bad food, and no sleep. I’m not pregnant and don’t either of you mention the possibility again.”

The men busied themselves rearranging Braham’s desk to make room to work. David unbuttoned his jacket and hung it on a coat hook on the back of the door. He rolled his neck, settling the leather of the shoulder holster more comfortably. There was something odd about his pistols.

“Are you carrying Glocks?” she asked.

“Aye.”

Cullen cocked his head. “Kit had a fancy automatic rifle. Ye should have seen her setting her sights on several hundred buffalo. I’d never been so scared. Our lives depended on a weapon I knew nothing about, and she acted like she was at target practice.”

David laughed. “Even as a kid, she had more guts than sense. Nearly got me killed a time or two.”

“We got a wee lassie Kit calls her mini-me. From what ye’re saying about Kit’s childhood, mini-me is an apt description.”

David slapped Cullen on the back, laughing. “Hope ye survive to see the lass married.”

“It’s Kit who’ll likely not survive. Tell Elliott, will ye? He’ll be glad to hear she’s getting back the trouble she gave her father and godfather.”

Charlotte watched the exchange between Cullen and David, awed by the depth of love they had for Kit. Now she understood the glassy-eyed look in Elliott’s eyes every time someone mentioned her name. How blessed, to be so loved by so many people. She only had Jack, and their relationship was threatened. Her throat became painfully tight, and she swallowed back a gallon of tears, which, if allowed out, would swamp the room. Time to get back to business. She cleared her throat.

“You’ve had several days to study the court record. What do you think?”

Cullen eased into the desk chair, retrieved a stack of documents from his leather-bound briefcase, and spread them out on the desk. “I have a list of questions. I’ve also identified the weaknesses in the case against Jack.”

“What does your gut tell you?”

“Exactly what ye told me. Seward wants the defendants convicted. A military trial will be an injustice. However, with the current sentiment in Washington and around the country, odds are almost certain even a jury of their peers would convict them all.”

“But at least they’d have a jury and their day in court instead of Seward’s generals with verdicts already in hand. What about the testimony? Did you find anything you can use to help him?” Charlotte asked.

“Several pieces of key testimony against the defendants, and Jack in particular, were obviously manufactured, exploited, or coerced. After reading through the documents ye’ve given me, it’s obvious the defense had no time to prepare. We have time now. We also have the witness list. We’ll be ready.”

Cullen thumbed through several sheets until he found one in particular. “Do ye know anything about this?” He addressed Charlotte. “A witness, identifying himself as a cabbie, testified he dropped off a man and woman at Major McCabe’s house, picked up Jack and Booth, and delivered them to the National Hotel. Do ye know the identity of the couple?”

Charlotte dropped her feet with a loud thud, mouth agape. She shot to her feet, fists slamming to her hips. “What a damnable lie. Yes, I know the couple.” She breathed heavily, battling outrage for a bit of emotional control. “Colonel Gordon Henly and Charlotte Mallory.” She rolled back her eyes, shaking her head. “What a lie. It was the last date I had with the asshole colonel. We had been to the theater then had dinner at the Willard, where I saw Braham for the first time since he had disappeared and driven to Kentucky. Gordon and I had a disagreement. It was more of an argument, really. When we arrived back at Braham’s townhouse in Gordon’s carriage,” she said with emphasis, “driven by his driver, we met Booth, who had just finished an interview with Jack. And, by the way, I was furious with Jack for inviting that man to Braham’s house.”

“Why was Booth here?” Cullen asked.

“Jack said it was too noisy at the National Hotel, and he wanted to tape the conversation secretly.”

Cullen gave her a puzzled expression.

“With a recording device,” David said. “It’s like a stenographer reading the words aloud. Ye don’t have to read them. Ye listen.”

“Like an iPod?” Cullen asked. “I listen to music on Kit’s iPod.”

David arched his brow. “After all these years it still works?”

“Kit says the sun charges it.” Cullen waved his hand. “We digress. Continue with yer story.”

“When Gordon saw Booth, he fawned all over the man. Then, after Booth left, Gordon and Jack went back to the Willard—in Gordon’s carriage again—to find Braham. If the cabbie testifies to delivering Jack and Booth to the National Hotel, he’s lying.”

“What was Gordon’s relationship with Jack?” Cullen asked.

“Gordon hated him. He thought Jack was to blame for my lack of interest in him, and Jack…well, Jack has a certain effect on women. Gordon didn’t like it at all. He fancies himself a ladies’ man, but he couldn’t compete with Jack.”

“Do ye think he would go so far as to implicate Jack in the assassination?”

“Gordon is a drug addict,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “He loathes Jack, and he’s obsessed with me, or was.”

“Why didn’t ye mention this in yer video statement?” David asked, eyes blazing.

She shrugged with a tight movement, almost a flinch. “It didn’t seem important.”

Cullen made a choked noise. “Important? It’s