Heart of Lies Read Free Page A

with a matching poke bonnet kept time on a tambourine while the older man beside her read from an open Bible. Nearby, a woman in her early forties ladled soup from a deep pot at one end of the table. She smiled as she handed a full bowl to a prostitute.
    Tom let his gaze scan the crowd. They were orderly, thinning out now. When the line finally dwindled, the younger woman began to walk around and collect the empty soup bowls. As Tom approached her, she paused to take in his faded coat and battered hat before her gaze shifted to his gun.
    “We’re a peaceable people,” she told him.
    He nodded and gave his hat brim a tug. “I understand, ma’am.”
    “If it’s soup you’re after, it’s my husband’s turn to serve.” She smiled in the direction of a man who had paused at his task to watch them.
    “I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time. I’ve a few questions. It won’t take long.”
    “Pastor Bennett would be happy to counsel you.” She turned her gaze toward the older man holding the Bible before continuing on to the table carrying a stack of thick ceramic bowls.
    “It’s not counseling I’m after. I’m a Pinkerton detective.” He opened his jacket just far enough to reveal a badge pinned to the inside. He didn’t want to advertise his identity to those lingering nearby.
    “A detective?” He saw a flash of panic in her eyes. A second later she calmed. “What is this about?”
    “I’m working on a missing person’s case and I was hoping that since you work the streets you might have some information, anything that might help me find the woman I’m searching for.”
    “Oh. Well, then, yes. I’d be happy to answer a few questions.”
    “Is there somewhere we can sit and talk? Or, if you’d prefer, I can speak to your husband—”
    “I don’t mind.” She set down the stack of bowls, walked over to her husband, and spoke to him in a barely audible voice. He looked across the table at Tom and nodded. The woman gestured. “Come inside with me. We’ve not much in the building yet, but there is a bench where we can sit and chat. I can’t be long, though.”
    “I understand,” he told her. “It will just take a few minutes.”
    Inside, she lit a lamp and carefully replaced the chimney. The room was cast in a warm yellow glow. “We’ve not the funds to set up our ministry office yet. Feeding the hungry takes most of our time and money.”
    She indicated a long bench standing against one wall. “My name is Elizabeth Henson. My husband is Pastor Bennett’s nephew. We’ve just returned from five years in Singapore.”
    Tom was disappointed to hear they hadn’t been in the city all that long. He doubted she could help, but since he had no solid leads, it was still worth a try.
    “Will you sit?”
    She sat down on the opposite end of the bench near the light and folded her hands in her lap. Even in the weak glow of candlelight, he saw that they were not the soft white hands of a woman unused to hard work.
    She smiled and waited for him to begin.
    “I’ve been hired by a woman in Texas to search for her sister,” he began. “The last time she saw her was here in New Orleans, twenty-three years ago. The missing woman was nine then.”
    Mrs. Henson’s brow knit. “Are you even certain she’s still here? Or that she’s even alive?”
    “Not at all, but this is where she was last seen. I’ve found no records of her having been buried in any of the New Orleans cemeteries.”
    “She could be in a pauper’s unmarked grave.”
    “She could, but I’ve not given up yet. The Lane girls lost their parents and shortly afterward were taken by their uncle and sold to a bordello somewhere in the French Quarter. They were separated within minutes of their arrival. The older of the two, the woman I represent, grew up there. She has no idea what happened to her sister, only that the girl was carried off by a man and never seen again.”
    Tom couldn’t help but notice that Elizabeth