develop the effectiveness of forgery. I've seen that happen before. Also,' he said after another puff of his cigar, 'people are inclined to believe that twins can imitate each other better. I'd like to have something more.'
'What about Louis?' Beau asked me. 'You said he recognized you.'
'Louis?' Monsieur Polk asked.
'Louis was someone I met when Gisselle and I attended a private girls' school in Baton Rouge. He's a musician who recently had a concert here in New Orleans.'
'I see.'
'When I knew him, he was blind. But he sees now,' I added, hopefully.
'What? Blind, you say? Really, monsieur,' he said, turning to Beau. 'You want me to put a man who was blind on the stand to testify he can tell the difference.'
'But he can!' I said.
'Maybe to your satisfaction, but to a judge's?'
Another balloon deflated. My heart was thumping. Tears of frustration had begun to sting my eyes. Defeat seemed all around me.
'Look,' Beau said, squeezing my hand again, 'what possible motive could we have for Ruby pretending to be Ruby? First, we will be exposing our deception to the world, and besides, everyone who knew Gisselle knew how self-centered she was. She wouldn't want to win custody of a child and be responsible for the child's upbringing.'
Monsieur Polk thought a moment. He turned his chair and gazed out the window.
'I'll play the devil's advocate,' he said, continuing to gaze down at the river. Then he turned sharply back to us and pointed at me with his cigar again. 'You said your husband, Paul, inherited oil-rich land in the bayou?'
'Yes.'
'And built you a mansion with beautiful grounds, an estate?'
'Yes, but—'
'And has wells pumping up oil, creating a large fortune?'
I couldn't swallow. I couldn't nod. Beau and I gazed at each other.
'But, monsieur, we are far from paupers. Ruby inherited a tidy sum and a profitable business and—'
'Monsieur Andreas, you have at your fingertips the possibility of inheriting a major fortune, a continually growing major fortune. We're not talking now about just being well-to-do.'
'What about the child?' Beau threw out in desperation. 'She knows her mother.'
'She's an infant. I wouldn't think of putting her on a witness stand in a courtroom. She would be terrified, I'm sure.'
'No, we can't do that, Beau,' I said. 'Never.' Monsieur Polk sat back. 'Let me look into the hospital records, talk to some doctors. I’ll get back to you.'
'How long will this take?'
'It can't be done overnight, madame,' he said frankly.
'But my baby . . . Oh, Beau.'
'Did you consider going to see Madame Tate and talking it out with her? Perhaps this was an impulsive angry act and now she's had some time to reconsider,' Monsieur Polk suggested. 'It would simplify the problem.'
'I don't say this is her motive,' he added, leaning forward, 'but you might offer to sign over any oil rights, et cetera.'
'Yes,' I said, hope springing in my heart.
Beau nodded. 'It could be driving her mad that Ruby would inherit Cypress Woods and all the oil on the land,' Beau agreed. 'Let's drive out there and see if she will speak with us. But in the meantime . . .'
'I'll go forward with my research in the matter,' Monsieur Polk said. He stood up and put his cigar in the ashtray before leaning over to shake Beau's hand. 'You know,' he said softly, 'what a field day our gossip columnists in the newspapers will have with this?'
'We know.' Beau looked at me. 'We're prepared for all that as long as we get Pearl back.'
'Very well. Good luck with Madame Tate,' Monsieur Polk said, and we left.
'I feel so weak, Beau, so weak and afraid,' I said as we left the building for our car.
'You can't present yourself to that woman while you're in this state of mind, Ruby. Let's stop for something to eat to build your strength. Let's be optimistic and strong. Lean on me whenever you have to,' he said, his face dark, his eyes down. 'This is really all my fault,' he murmured. 'It was my idea, my doing.'
'You can't blame yourself solely, Beau. I knew what I was doing and I wanted to do it. I should have known better than to think we could splash water in the face of Destiny.'
He hugged me to him and we got into our car and started for the bayou. As we rode, I rehearsed the things I would say. I had no appetite when we stopped to eat, but Beau insisted I put something in my stomach.
The late afternoon grew darker and darker as the sun took a fugitive position behind some long, feather- brushed storm clouds. All the blue sky seemed to fall behind us as we drove on toward the bayou and the confrontation that awaited. As familiar places and sights began to appear, my apprehension grew. I took deep breaths and hoped that I would be able to talk without bursting into tears.
