She came up to him again half an hour later. Herne was standing watching the roulette wheel spin and other folk lose their money trying to bet against the house. Veronica slipped her arm through his and whispered: ‘Remember you’re here as my guest. That means I’m responsible for you.’
She squeezed his arm and he took hold of her fingers and gently but firmly lifted her hand away.
‘Don’t feel you have to take those responsibilities too seriously.’
‘A lot of men would give a great deal to have me take them seriously.’
‘I bet a lot of men have.’
She leaned away far enough to give her arm room to swing. Herne’s hand shot up and caught her wrist just as her fingers were about to strike the side of his face.
People around them caught their breath and turned; the roulette dealer stilled his hand on the wheel. A man in a velvet suit the color of smoke came through the crowd and stopped close alongside them.
‘Something the matter, Miss Russell?’
The look that passed between them was both knowing and hostile.
‘Nothing, Mr. Daniels.’
‘Call me Cord. All my best customers enjoy that privilege.’
‘It’s a privilege I don’t like to earn.’
‘Suit yourself. Just do me one favor in future.’
‘What’s that?’
He looked at Herne as if he was something that had been found floating in the bay. ‘Keep your rough trade outside my premises.’
Herne released her hand as a hiss of breath escaped from between Veronica’s lips. Cord Daniels folded back into the crowd. The roulette dealer closed the betting and set the wheel in motion.
‘Come on,’ said Veronica, moving towards the table, ‘let’s have some fun.’
In a surprisingly short while she had won close to seven hundred dollars and her luck was riding high. Herne tried to persuade her to quit, but the excitement was in her blood now and the green of her eyes shone bright as the chips she was playing with. Herne noticed that as soon as her run took her over the five hundred mark, Daniels reappeared through a door in the wall at the rear of the wheel.
He was a smooth-looking man with brown hair brushed flat and a small moustache that Herne guessed some folk would consider handsome, even elegant. His face was slightly puffed and the veins around his nose were beginning to suggest that his drinking was close to being a problem.
There was a carnation at the button hole of his velvet suit and he had gold rings on the middle fingers of both hands. The hands themselves were large and looked soft.
His belly swelled more than it should against his clothing.
Herne wondered if he wore a gun or if he left that to his hirelings. He also wondered whether he’d do anything to make sure Veronica Russell didn’t win too much money, but he seemed to give no sign and she continued to place her bets quickly and without apparent thought, chasing her luck for ail it was worth.
Quite a crowd had gathered round now, talking and then holding their breath as the wheel spun. Their excitement when Veronica won again showed the extent to which they felt involved with anyone beating the system.
At eight hundred dollars, Veronica shook her head and said she was not going to bet any more.
Daniels stepped up to the table. ‘Why not let the wheel spin once more, Miss Russell? When you’re doing so well, you ought to take a chance. You could double what you have there with a single spin of the wheel.’
‘And you could win back everything I’ve won.’
‘That’s what gambling’s about,’ he said with a fleshy smile.
‘Sure,’ she replied, picking up her chips, ‘and this is what winning’s about. I’m cashing in and leaving. If you’ve no objections.’
He gestured towards the cashier’s desk. ‘None whatsoever. I’m glad to see one of my patrons so fortunate.’
‘I’ll bet you are!’
She gave him one last searching look and moved away, Herne following in her wake. Daniels watched them with interest before going back to his office and signaling as he did so for the game to recommence.
The carriage was waiting down the street and came towards the house as soon as Veronica appeared at the gate. Herne stared up towards the driver’s seat, expecting to see the bald head and disapproving gaze of Lucas, but instead it was a fresh-faced youngster with a gap at the front of his teeth and a cheeky expression when he jumped down and opened the carriage door.
‘Let us take you to your hotel, Mr. Herne.’
‘It ain’t no trouble, I can walk.’
‘And it isn’t polite to refuse a lady. Even if you disapprove of her activities.’
Herne shrugged and climbed in, giving the driver the address of the hotel and avoiding the look that came to the lad’s eyes.
‘My father can’t be paying you as much as I thought.’
‘Maybe he can’t afford any more if he has other things to pay for. I don’t imagine you come out of that place ahead too many times.’
‘If you’re suggesting my father settles my gambling debts, you’re mistaken. My mother left me a sizeable sum of money and I draw an allowance from that on top of what I get from my father. I’ve never asked him for an extra cent and I never shall.’
‘How about your sister?’
‘Cassie?’
‘Sure.’
‘What about her?’
‘Does she have one of these allowances?’
‘Certainly.’
‘So your father wouldn’t need to pay any debts for her either?’
‘Of course not. Why do you ask?’
‘Just curious. How the other half lives. That sort of thing. Where I come from there ain’t too many women as don’t have to work an hour of their natural lives—one way or another.’
She turned her face away from him and looked through the window as the carriage moved slowly along. Herne turned away also, angry with her for her superior manners and her wealth and self-assurance—angry with himself without being clear why.
In the confined space of the carriage, even with the night air coming through the windows, he could not help but smell her perfume or sense the warmth of her. When she shifted in her seat there was a moment when her thigh pushed against his and a jolt went through him as if he’d got too close to a flame.
They stopped and Herne looked out, the lad calling down to tell him they’d arrived.
‘Thanks for the ride.’
She didn’t bother to look at him, nor to reply. Herne shrugged and jumped out, the driver setting the horses in motion right away. He stood and watched until the lamp that shone at the rear of the carriage was little more than a red dot and just before it disappeared altogether he went quickly into his hotel and climbed to his room.
Three
Herne woke with a strong feeling that what he’d been told by Major Russell didn’t cover the whole bill of goods. He dressed quickly and ate breakfast at the dining rooms round the corner before heading for Rincon Hill.
There was a haze over the sun and mist drifted up from the bay and clung to the branches of trees and the edges of the pavements. It made your face feel sticky and somehow closed and unclean.
The shutters were across and the blinds were down and the house gave the impression of being still asleep—or was that dead?
The little colored kid was no stranger to Herne’s hand.
Lucas scowled from the hallway and asked him what he wanted as if whatever it was he wasn’t going to get it.
‘I want to see the major.’
‘Uh-uh.’ The bald head swung from side to side.
‘It’s important.’
‘That don’t make no difference.’
‘Maybe if I came back later?’
‘It still don’t make no difference. The major ain’t well.’
‘He was fine yesterday.’
‘He took sick last night.’
‘He’s seen a doctor?’
‘O’course he’s seen a doctor
. How else you think he’d know he ain’t well enough to see folk? He’s in bed and restin’ and that’s all there is to it.’
Herne was about to argue further when he heard a woman’s voice from inside the house. For a moment he thought it was Veronica’s but he quickly realized it was a couple of octaves higher than hers and figured it might belong to some visiting child.
It was no child—at least, not the way he’d thought.
She came across the hallway wearing a powder blue robe that was just held together at the centre with a length of cord. Her hair was piled on top of her head in an artistic mess that had likely taken quite some time to arrange and she still had the look of sleep about her. Herne knew without doing so that if he got close enough to her, she’d smell of sleep too.
Lucas turned towards her and gave her one of his best scowls, but all she did was flap her hands at him and giggle.
‘Why don’t you announce our visitor, Lucas? We ain’t never goin’ to teach you to do these things properly.’
‘He came to see the major, Miss Cassie. An’ he’s just leavin’.’
‘Oh, no. If he can’t see the major he can see me. On account of I’m the only member of the family present and receiving callers—my dear sister not having come home yet again last night.’
Herne’s mind made a little diversion of its own—if Veronica hadn’t driven home in her carriage after dropping him off, where had she gone?’
Lucas continued to look disapproving and as if he’d like nothing better than to slam the door in Herne’s face. But Cassie ignored him and invited Herne to come through to the drawing room where she could talk to him and serve him coffee.
‘You would like coffee, wouldn’t you?’
‘Thank you, ma’am, I would.’
‘See, Lucas. Tell Ruby to serve coffee in the drawing room.’
And she flounced away like a little girl playing at being grown-up and having callers to visit.
The drawing room smelt of polish like the rest of the house, but the scent of lavender managed to overpower the mustiness Herne had noticed before. Cassie let up the blinds and asked Herne to help her fasten back the shutters and the dull light crowded in on the room as they sat at either end of a long leather settee and looked at one another, waiting for the coffee to arrive.
When it did, Cassie gave a laugh of delight and leaned over for the pot, letting one flap of her robe slide off her knee showing a length of bare leg that ran nearly to the top of her thigh before it became lost in shadow.
Herne did his best not to stare but his best wasn’t good enough and Cassie followed the object of his gaze and giggled but did nothing to set the robe to rights.
‘You were here yesterday, weren’t you?’ she said, passing him a cup.
‘I was here to see your father.’
‘I know. And then you talked to Veronica in the garden.’ She pouted. ‘No one ever comes to visit me. It isn’t fair.’
She sat there looking sorry for herself, a slightly oversize girl whose tea party games weren’t working out properly and whose dolls weren’t obeying the games she’d set them to play.
Herne wondered how consciously she was playing at being a child herself, or how far it was a role she’d never for some reason grown out of.
‘Why did you come and see my father?’
‘Business.’
‘What kind of business?’ she wheedled.
‘The private kind.’
Her cup slammed down against its saucer hard enough to spill half of her coffee. Her lower lip jutted out petulantly and her blue eyes sparkled with anger.
‘It isn’t fair! It isn’t! Always business, private business! No one ever thinks I’m grown up enough to be told what’s going on!’
She got up from the settee and walked towards the window, the robe spreading out behind her and leaving her legs bare as the cord worked itself looser.
When she turned back towards him, her teeth were biting down into her bottom lip and they were sharp, like the teeth of a small rodent.
‘Always the same. Like with Connors. Private business!’
Herne shook his head, set down his cup carefully and stood up. He began to walk towards the door and in a split second her mood and expression changed.
‘You’re not going! Oh, please don’t go. Why, you haven’t even finished your coffee yet!’
And once again she was the perfect little pretend-hostess, anxious that her party shouldn’t be spoilt. Herne allowed himself to be led back to the settee, the pressure of her small fingers surprisingly firm on his arm, the faint but unmistakable scent of sleep close about her.
For five minutes she asked questions about where Herne had recently been and he talked to her of Wyoming; she toyed with her cup and nodded and hmmed and when he finished describing one thing she asked about something else.
Her hand was on his arm almost before he realized. ‘It was to do with Connors, wasn’t it? Why you saw my father?’
‘I’d like to see your father now. That’s why I came back.’
She shook her head. ‘You can’t. The doctor was here again. He isn’t seeing anyone. Except for Lucas.’
Her face scowled like a child who’s just been told she can’t stay up with grown-ups.
‘Tell me something,’ Herne said.
‘All right.’ She pushed her head back and looked at him, all bright and eager.
‘Do you know a man called Daniels?’
‘Cord Daniels?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘I’ve heard of him.’
‘Is that all?’
‘I’ve heard Veronica speak of him.’
‘But you’ve never seen him?’
She didn’t answer, simply looked at him, her blue eyes widening.
‘Never been to that place of his on Kearney Street?’
‘What place?’
Herne moved his arm and her hand fell to the smooth surface of the settee. ‘Don’t play games with me, Cassie. I haven’t time.’
He made to stand and she reached out to prevent him.
‘If you’re not going to talk to me …’
‘I will!’
‘Then tell me about Daniels.’
‘I don’t like him,’ she pouted.
Then you do know him.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘And you do go to Kearney Street?’
‘Not as often as Veronica.’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Well perhaps it should be.’
Herne sat back down. ‘What if I’m more interested in you?’
She giggled and for a moment he thought she was going to bite her bottom lip again. Instead she wriggled her body towards him and now the robe wasn’t covering either leg and Herne couldn’t do anything other than look at them and think they were well-shaped and smooth and he wished he knew whether they belonged to a woman or a little girl. He wondered if Cassie knew herself.
‘Are you going to tell me about Daniels?’
‘I told you. I don’t like him.’
‘Why not?’
‘He isn’t nice to me.’
‘Does he try?’
Her mouth opened and she hesitated and looked at Herne with a sudden knowingness. She laughed her tinkly laugh, like the cups from a child’s tea set being rattled together.
‘He tries to be nicer to Veronica.’
‘Really?’ Herne remembered the scene between them the previous night and found that hard to believe.
‘You don’t think she’d let him, do you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, Veronica isn’t as wonderful as people think she is. She lets all kinds of people be nice to her. She pretends she isn’t interested and walks around with her nose stuck in the air like she’s something special and …’
Cassie suddenly stood up and moved in front of him, staring down. ‘Do you think I’m special?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Herne, meaning it, though maybe not in t
he way she intended.
‘You really do?’
‘Sure.’
She giggled and shook her head and then she threw herself in his lap. Her arms came round his neck and he could feel her behind wriggle between his legs and then her mouth was pressed against his and she was kissing him but not like he was Father Christmas. Her lips pushed against him as his head went back and her tongue slid between her sharp little teeth and tried to find its way inside his mouth.
The door opened with a definite click.
Herne twisted his head away and gasped for air.
Lucas was standing just inside the door, an expression of contempt on his face.
Cassie’s robe seemed to be everywhere but covering her body.
Herne lifted her up from his lap and set her down beside him on the settee and then he stood up.
Lucas came towards him, another envelope in his hand.
‘This was delivered. The major said I was to give it to you.’
He looked at Herne and then down at the girl and something close to revulsion showed in his eyes.
Herne took the envelope and pulled open the flap. The note was brief and to the point and was written in the same hand as the others. It demanded the sum of one thousand dollars, with a reminder that there were substantial sums already owing. It suggested that as an officer and a man of honor, the major had no alternative but to pay.
Herne stuffed the paper back into the envelope and pushed them both down into his pocket. He grunted and went to the door, Lucas before him.
When he turned and looked back into the room Cassie was standing in the middle of the carpet, head on one side, teeth biting down into her bottom lip in a petulant sulk.
Four
Kearney Street was busy enough with passers-by and people heading for the stores lower down the hill. The outside of Daniels’ gambling palace looked no more or less grand than its neighbors, no more or less interesting. Herne went quickly through the gate without the intention of being vetted again at the front door. He went through the bushes around the far side of the house and found a rear door, smaller and without any sliding panels. It wasn’t even locked.
He found himself inside a long, narrow corridor which led to steps going down to a cellar and an inside door which opened onto a wide kitchen. A couple of pots were simmering on the stove and there were signs that a couple of people had been eating at the heavy wooden table, but the room itself was empty.
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