The House of Secrets

by Terry Lynn Thomas

  I sensed Mr Collins watching me in that silent way of his. I turned around in my chair and found him standing in my office doorway, his hand clenching the door as if he might need to slam it shut and flee. His hair stood straight up on his head, and his glasses, which were held together by some sort of adhesive tape, sat sideways on his face.

  ‘Hello, Mr Collins.’ I hid my irritation and forced myself to sound cheerful.

  ‘The white knight is going out to do battle with the aAngel of Death, Miss Sarah. You might want to bear witness.’

  ‘The white knight?’ Realization dawned. I jumped up from my desk, knocking my chair over in my hurry, pushed past Mr Collins, and ran to the front door. Chloe looked up at me as I stopped at her desk. ‘Get someone, Eunice, an orderly, just get someone to help. Please.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Now!’ I slammed my hand down on her desk, making her jump.

  I hurried out the front door, flew down the stairs, and skidded to a stop when I reached the sidewalk.

  The air hung heavy. Not a leaf stirred. The sun beat down on the cement, which glowed white from yesterday’s cleansing rain. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two men in suits standing on opposite corners of the street. Zeke’s men? Neither one of them moved to assist. They just watched as Zeke and the Viking prepared to face off. Another man stood in the doorway of the house across the street. Why wouldn’t they do something to stop Zeke? Were they hoping for a fight? Did they want to watch for the sport of it?

  I stood by, helpless, while Zeke walked towards the Viking. He didn’t limp now. His arm wasn’t bandaged. He carried his cane like a weapon, the silver handle gleaming in the sun. The Viking took his coat off and laid it across the hood of the blue car. He had a smirk on his face as he rolled up his sleeves, revealing thick forearms. I wondered how much food a man would have to eat to get that big.

  Zeke waited, calm and still. The Viking had finished undressing just as Hendrik Shrader hoisted his giant bulk out of the back seat of the car. He grinned at the scene before him.

  The Viking put his fists up and circled Zeke. Zeke faced him, turning in a slow circle as the Viking moved around him. Zeke didn’t raise his arms. He stood still, as though in the eye of a storm. When the Viking took a step, ready to throw his first punch, Zeke swung his cane in a circular motion so fast I couldn’t track it. He hit the Viking on the back of his knees and swept him right off his feet. The Viking hit the ground, landing on this back with a loud thud, followed by a whoosh as the air left his lungs. Zeke moved in and stood over him, pointing the cane at the Viking’s chest, as though it were a sword.

  I moved closer.

  ‘Don’t even think about moving,’ Zeke said. The Viking tried to hoist himself up. Zeke stood over him, still as a tiger waiting to pounce, the tip of his cane hovering over the man’s heart. ‘I’ll kill you if you move.’

  The Viking lay back down, gasping for breath.

  Zeke turned his attention to Hendrik Shrader, who fumbled with the door of the car, a panic-stricken look on his face. He wrenched it open just as Zeke reached him. Zeke slammed the door shut and, in a fierce show of strength, grabbed Hendrik from behind, turned him around, and pushed him onto the trunk of the car, his elbow resting on his windpipe.

  ‘I can’t breathe,’ the man whispered.

  ‘I should break your neck,’ Zeke said.

  ‘You crossed the line when you stole from me.’

  ‘Stay away from Sarah.’

  Hendrik Shrader croaked something I couldn’t hear.

  Zeke pulled the fat man to his feet and let him go.

  ‘If you ever go near her again, if you ever so much as think about threatening her, I swear, I will hunt you down and kill you. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Papa?’ a childlike voice called out.

  We all turned towards the porch where Minna stood, dressed in her pyjamas, her hair wild like Medusa’s. She held a pearl-handled revolver.

  ‘What are you doing now, you stupid girl?’

  ‘I’m going to kill you.’ Minna walked down the stairs that led to the sidewalk. She took slow, deliberate steps, like a bride walking down the aisle, as she pointed the gun at her father’s heart. ‘I should have done it a long time ago, but I didn’t have the courage.’

  ‘You’re not going to pull that trigger.’ Hendrik sounded confident, but he raised his hands. ‘I’m your father.’

  Minna laughed, a crazed cackle that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. ‘You’re an evil sadist. You don’t deserve—’

  ‘Minna?’ She jumped at the sound of Zeke’s voice. Her brows furrowed, as though she were seeing him for the first time. ‘You don’t want to do this,’ he said. ‘They’ll lock you up and send you to prison, or an asylum.’ He moved towards Minna, taking slow steps.

  ‘I’m already in prison.’ She stepped around Zeke and spoke to her father. Tears ran down her face. ‘I’m in this position now because of you. You could have helped me. What kind of man forces his daughter to marry a man who beats her?’

  She lifted her hand to wipe her tears. In one quick movement, Zeke wrested the gun from her, took the bullets out, tucked them in his back pocket, and handed the gun to me.

  The revolver rested heavy in my hand.

  Zeke wrapped his arms around Minna as she collapsed into a bout of sobbing. ‘Get out of here,’ he said to Mr Shrader. ‘I don’t want to see you again.’

  Hendrik Shrader got back into his car without a backward glance. I stood there holding the gun while Minna leaned on Zeke and wept. The Viking stood up and jumped into the driver’s seat. The car sped away on squealing tyres.

  Just as the car drove out of sight, Eunice and the two orderlies came out the front door. Eunice hurried over to Minna and put an arm around her waist to lead her away.

  ‘You poor thing. Come on. Let’s get you back into the house. We’ll give you a sedative and you can have a good rest.’

  Minna let go of Zeke and allowed Eunice to lead her away like a docile child, the orderlies trailing behind. One of them hesitated before climbing the steps to the front door. He glanced back at us just as Zeke collapsed onto the sidewalk.

  ‘You are an idiot.’ I squatted down next to him. ‘What were you thinking?’

  ‘At least now we know,’ Zeke said.

  ‘Know what?’ I cradled his head in my lap.

  ‘Minna might be crazy, but she is not working with her father.’

  ‘I’ll be right back to get him,’ the orderly said to me before he hurried up the stairs.

  ‘The men who were watching the house are gone,’ I told Zeke.

  ‘They’ll arrest Shrader now.’ Zeke opened his eyes. ‘Can you help me stand up?’

  ‘No. Just wait.’

  Soon the two orderlies came back. They hoisted Zeke to his feet. He put an arm around each of their necks and hobbled back into the house, with me trailing behind. As I stepped onto the front porch, I noticed the man on the porch across the street. He stood out from the men who had been assigned to watch the house. This man wore no hat or tie. He looked as though he had just rolled out of bed. He had a camera, which he now pointed at me as he snapped away. With a sense of dread, I hurried into the house, preparing for the inevitable media storm.

  Chapter Twelve

  Raised voices, Zeke’s and another I didn’t recognize, greeted me as I came downstairs the next morning.

  ‘She’s already caused enough trouble, Zeke. I’m afraid you are not rational where she is concerned.’

  ‘You’re overstepping. I’m responsible for what Shrader did to her. I’m responsible for the hell she went through during Jack Bennett’s trial. Do you need reminding that she had to face all of that alone because of my previous commitment to you?’

  I stopped just short of the door.

  ‘Your face would have been plastered over all the newspapers if you had testified at that ridiculous trial. What use would you have been to me then?’

  ‘Is th
at all you care about?’

  ‘Don’t give me that nonsense about loyalty and honour. This isn’t about that and you know—’

  ‘I’m going to marry her.’

  Silence.

  ‘So you best get used to it. It’s going to take me months to recuperate from my last mission. I’m finished with that. I’m finished with secrets and lies. I find I no longer have the stomach for it.’

  ‘Zeke, you hardly even know this woman. Surely you don’t think your father is going to welcome her into the fold?’

  ‘I don’t care about my father. You, of all people, should know that.’

  I hurried back to the bottom of the stairway and approached the north parlour, this time with a sure step. By the time I arrived, the conversation had ceased.

  ‘Good morning.’

  The man I recognized as Wade Connor turned around at the sound of my voice. He smiled, revealing even white teeth, but the emotion didn’t reach his eyes. I had never seen Wade Connor close up, as Zeke had done his best to keep distance between us. Like Zeke, Wade had dark circles under his eyes and the weary look of a man burdened by secrets. His handsome face, jet-black hair, and blue eyes only accentuated the aura of power that encircled him.

  He picked up the morning paper and waved it before my face. ‘The sidewalk outside this house is swarming with reporters.’

  The headlines blared, Two More Jap Warships Sunk; 27 Planes Down in Allied Sea Victory; Planes, Planes, Planes, Begs General MacArthur. In between these headlines was a picture of me sitting on the sidewalk next to Zeke as he lay there after his collapse. Under it the caption read, Love story at the asylum!

  ‘Oh, no.’ I sat down, speechless.

  ‘That’s an understatement.’ Wade peered out between the curtains. ‘Well, you’ll just have to stay out of sight for a while. Soon Shrader will be arrested, and if we’re lucky, you’ll stay out of trouble long enough for another story to become front-page news.’

  ‘Leave it alone, Wade. If you had gone ahead as we planned, Hendrik Shrader would be in custody.’

  ‘Yes, and all of his associates would have fled. There’s a plan in place to bring down the whole organization, but I shouldn’t have to remind you of that, should I?’

  ‘I think you should leave,’ Zeke said.

  ‘Sarah, I’m sorry we couldn’t meet under more auspicious circumstances. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ Wade picked up his hat and left without a backward glance.

  ‘Are you really finished, Zeke?’ I said once Zeke and I were alone.

  ‘Now that my face has been printed in a newspaper, it won’t be safe for me to work undercover. That’s not important. I want to talk about us. I need to know, Sarah, if you will ever be able to forgive me. I should have known Hendrik would come after you. If I could, Sarah, I would take—’

  I kissed him. When our lips met, the last of my anger faded away.

  ‘We’re going to be okay, Sarah. I’m going to get you away from here.’

  ‘What were you thinking, fighting with that man?’

  ‘I’ll always be protective of you. I can’t change who I am.’

  ‘I know.’ That’s what worries me.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway. I pushed myself away from Zeke, stood up, and patted my hair back into place.

  Mrs McDougal came into the room, accompanied by a scowling grey-haired man. ‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘This is Detective Morrisey. He would like a word with you two.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs McDougal,’ the man said. ‘And thank you for the best cup of coffee I’ve had in ages.’

  Mrs McDougal shut the door behind her, leaving us alone with Detective Morrisey. Instead of sitting down, he stood before us, his hands behind his back. He had the look of a fighter whose nose had been broken more than once. His ruddy complexion made him look hard and weather-beaten, but his blue eyes, clear as the sea, did a lot to soften his rough edges. Looks of a boxer, soul of a poet, I thought.

  ‘I’m with SFPD, homicide.’ The detective took a worn leather wallet out of his suit pocket and handed it to Zeke, who in turn studied the gold badge inside. Satisfied, Zeke handed it back to the detective.

  ‘We’re treating Matthew Geisler’s accident as a homicide attempt. We have a witness who believes the doctor may have been pushed.’

  ‘Who is this witness?’ I asked.

  He ignored me.

  ‘We are in the preliminary stages of the investigation at this point, but I wanted to find out what you know about the woman upstairs, Minna Summerly.’

  Zeke explained to Detective Morrisey all that had transpired since he had arrived. He left out his connection with Minna’s father, but told the detective about the flowers and cards that Minna had received, and about Minna’s belief that Gregory had come to get his revenge. He told the detective about the alleged suicide attempt, which Minna argued was an attempt on her life.

  ‘I found a note,’ I said.

  ‘Do you have it?’

  I nodded, and he asked me to retrieve it. He turned to Zeke. ‘I’d like to speak with you privately.’

  I got the note from my desk, but by the time I returned to the north parlour, Detective Morrisey had finished with Zeke and had retreated to the kitchen, where he sat at the table, with a giant slice of pie and a cup of coffee, all served on the good china.

  ‘Excuse me, Detective?’

  ‘Yes?’ He set his fork down before he wiped his mouth with the linen napkin. In the hallway, the phone rang. Mrs McDougal answered it. ‘Sutter 2245.’

  ‘If Minna pushed Dr Geisler, I want to help—’

  ‘Young lady, I don’t need civilians helping me with my job. I’m good at it. If that woman pushed Dr Geisler or otherwise tried to harm him, I will get to the bottom of it. And I’ll tell you, like I told your boyfriend, anytime someone brandishes a gun, you need to call the police. Understand? I heard about your little fiasco here yesterday, and how your boyfriend saved the day. I don’t go for heroics, especially from civilians.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I just—’

  ‘I know who you are, Miss Bennett. For the record, I didn’t believe a word Jack Bennett said, and I can only imagine how difficult things are for you right now. So there is no misunderstanding between us, you will not meddle in this investigation.’

  I never got a chance to respond to him. Mrs McDougal came into the kitchen, grinning like a schoolgirl. She refilled Detective Morrisey’s coffee.

  ‘Madame, you are a master baker. This is the best apple pie I’ve ever had.’

  When Mrs McDougal noticed me watching them, she had the grace to blush.

  ‘Bethany telephoned,’ she said. ‘She’s been at the hospital for over twenty-four hours, poor dear, and would like you to take her a change of clothes. I’ll put a hamper together with some food for her, as well.’

  Detective Morrisey bade us good day.

  ‘If you’ve questions tomorrow, I’m making shepherd’s pie for lunch,’ Mrs McDougal said as she let him out the back door.

  * * *

  At one p.m. sharp, I stepped out of the elevator onto the fifth floor of St. Mary’s Hospital. Some well-intentioned employee had plastered Red Cross posters that admonished: Don’t Give Your Blood to the 7th Column. Give It To The Red Cross. Live Safely, Drive Safely, Work Safely, to the walls outside the elevator. Since I hated needles and could not bear the thought of giving blood, I vowed to buy war bonds and to donate to the Red Cross when I got my first paycheck.

  I turned left and headed towards the reception area where a nun dressed in the black habit and white wimple of the Sisters of Mercy sat at a desk. Other nuns and nurses hurried about. Some tended to patients in wheelchairs, some carried charts and medical supplies. An orderly pushed a cart laden with lunch plates, followed by another man who pushed a cart loaded with folded linens. I hoisted the hamper onto my hip and approached the nun who sat at the desk. She read with such intense concentration that she didn’t notice me standing there.

  I coughed.
She ignored me.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said.

  The nun held up her finger. ‘One minute.’

  ‘Sister Rosa,’ said another nun who appeared out of nowhere.

  The nun behind the desk snapped her book shut.

  ‘I’ve told you that you are here to help people who need to find their loved one’s location. While I appreciate your desire to study the Bible, you must take care of our guests first.’

  ‘Yes, Sister Frances Ann.’

  ‘How may we help you, dear?’ The nun who stood next to me reached for my basket. ‘Oh, are you Miss Bennett? I’m to take you to Mrs Geisler right away.’ Sister Frances Ann tucked my basket under her arm, as though it weighed nothing, and hurried away. ‘Follow me.’

  Sister Rosa resumed reading, forgetting about me and Sister Frances Ann’s reprimand.

  ‘How’s Dr Geisler doing? Is he going to be all right?’

  She stopped walking and gave me a weak smile.

  ‘I’m sorry, my dear. We’re short-staffed today and I’m run off my feet. I was so worried about getting you to the right place that I didn’t stop to consider what this must be like for you.’ She set the hamper down on the floor beside her. ‘The doctor has been in and out of consciousness all morning. His condition now is touch and go. It’s too early to tell if he will suffer any permanent damage from his accident.’

  She picked up the basket once again and we walked together, side by side this time, weaving our way between the nuns, orderlies, and doctors. We turned down a final corridor, shorter than the others, with windows overlooking Stanyan Street. To the left I could see Kezar Stadium and the treetops of Golden Gate Park.

  ‘This is the private wing. It’s much quieter here.’

  The end of the corridor had been set up as a waiting area. The windows overlooking the park flooded the space with natural light. Three brocade couches formed a horseshoe around a low coffee table covered in magazines.

  An old soup tureen now served as a vase and held, by my quick count, at least two dozen roses of different colours and varieties. They lacked the symmetrical perfection of the roses purchased at a florist, so I reckoned they had come from someone’s garden.