Weird choice of decoration, surely?
But after seeing what was in the basement of the women’s prison … maybe not.
Okay, I’d get in and get out ASAP, then come back later tonight after I talked to Gideon Webb.
I went round the back and broke in.
Like the other four, the Thackeray Building was ankle-deep in a layer of mouldy dust — but downstairs was definitely fancier than the others. It had moulded ceilings, a sweeping staircase with carved ironwork and no iron bars on the boarded-up windows.
But for some reason it worried me more than even that crushingly awful prison. I scanned around. What was it that was creeping me out? Except for one wall, there was no water damage and there were no major pest infestations I could see, just stately rooms stripped bare and waiting to be occupied. That must be what it was — the place looked like Hector could stroll in the door at any time.
It seeped Hector’s ghostly presence.
I headed for the staircase, planning on working my way from the top down. As I went I swung my flashlight up and across the floor.
I jerked to a halt.
Right in front of me, set into the deep layer of mouldy dust, was a trail of fresh footprints. Or rather, two sets. One set going up the stairs and the same set coming back down.
I followed them up the stairs.
The footprints led to the top floor and into a large room … They carefully circled it. I checked again. No, they didn’t just circle the room — they went around and around and around.
I followed them, trying to work out what the intruder had been after. When I came full circle, I realised that the wooden board had been crow-barred off a window then too casually replaced. I took out my tools and removed the board. It was hanging by two loose nails and fell to the floor.
The streetlight opposite shone through, blinding me for just a moment.
When my eyes adjusted, I stared through … and across the road.
The big bay window of my office was in plain view.
Then I heard it. A soft creeping sound.
There was someone else in here with me.
Adrenaline shot into my bloodstream like a fire hose on full. I swung around, ready for anything … and caught the outline of a big black figure moving towards me at a clipping pace. They had a flashlight.
‘Stop where you are!’ I warned.
‘Kannon, it’s me, darlin’.’ That was Honeycutt’s Louisiana drawl. He came forwards, into the part of the room illuminated by the streetlight.
‘Damn, Daniel.’ I exhaled. ‘You just frightened the crap out of me. What are you doing here?’ I asked, confused.
But I was very pleased to see him. Far too pleased …
‘I tried ringing,’ was his irritated reply, ‘but you weren’t answering.’
‘Yeah,’ I said dryly. ‘I usually turn off my phactor while I’m breaking and entering. How did you know I was here anyway?’
Daniel gave me a searching look. ‘I’ve been trying to find you. I was about to go into the Zebulon when I saw you sprint around the corner of this building. I thought I’d see why you’d turned burglar.’
‘Why were you looking for me?’ My tone warned him I wasn’t going to listen to any lectures about breaking and entering.
‘I came to apologise.’
I must’ve gaped. ‘For what?’
Honeycutt grinned and inched a little closer. The soft light brought his archangel features into relief. ‘Well, darlin’, I think you may be right about Hector Kershaw.’
‘Are you feeling okay?’ My eyebrows felt like they’d hit my hairline. ‘What happened? This morning you were totally convinced that Coyote Jack and Jackson River were both playing me for a fool.’
He didn’t like that. ‘Kannon, I didn’t say that — and I’m not saying that I have all the answers … yet. But I found out something that puts Dry Gulch in a very different light.’
‘Yeah? Go on.’ Now he had me.
‘You were right.’ Honeycutt moved closer again. ‘There’s something very wrong with the Kershaw family. After what I just found out, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hector did commit Dry Gulch after all.’
Now I was almost steaming with excitement. ‘I told you!’ I softly punched his big bicep.
‘Yeah, I know.’ He shrugged.
‘So tell me!’ I pleaded.
‘Okay, I’ve found out that the Kershaws were hiding at least one VERY big dirty secret, and —’
‘About Hector?’ I snapped, unable to let him finish. I needed someone else on my side in this case. And I wanted it to be him.
‘No, not Hector.’
‘Who?’ I asked, startled.
‘Lysander, his elder brother.’
Damn. ‘Why were you looking at Lysander Kershaw?’ Sure Honeycutt was a military specialist — but still …
My disappointment must’ve showed.
‘Because I was checking into Hector Kershaw’s background looking for a motive … Don’t worry, Kannon, when you hear what I have to tell you … it could explain what happened at Dry Gulch.’
The shadows played off Daniel’s archangel features. He was simmering with a mix of excitement and some other strong emotion I couldn’t identify. Whatever he’d discovered, it’d convinced him that Hector could be guilty.
My pulse started racing. ‘Go on,’ I urged.
‘I found out that Lysander wasn’t a hero at all.’ His words were curt, disgusted. ‘The Kershaw family must’ve been dancing for joy after that damned state funeral they organised for him. Lysander was about to be court-martialled — before he died in battle.’
I gaped. ‘Court martialled for what?’
‘Genocide.’ Honeycutt gave me a serious stare. ‘What Lysander Kershaw did to the Native Americans he encountered … even in the Wild West … shocked his own commanding officers. If Lysander hadn’t died there’s no doubt he would’ve been executed.’
‘Oh my God! So Hector wasn’t the only psychopath in the family …’ I muttered. This opened a whole other Pandora’s Box of explanations. ‘Let me guess, the hero’s funeral was staged.’
‘Yes, Lysander’s parents greased the palms of the military and the politicians — both of whom were very glad not to have to charge one of their own side with genocide.’
‘Of course they did …’ I muttered. ‘Can’t drag the family name through the mud! So how did you get on to the cover-up?’
‘You said Hector reacted strangely whenever his elder brother, the war hero, was mentioned — so I looked up Lysander’s army record. There was enough material missing to make me curious — and then the further in I got, the more I realised there’d been a huge cover-up. Then I wanted to find out what was underneath …’
Honeycutt’s expression showed he wasn’t entirely sure he was glad he’d found the answer.
‘Anyway, to make any sense of what was missing, I pieced Lysander’s record together from the beginning. He’d been in the army since he was fifteen — and every step of the way he’d become more violent and out of control.’ Daniel shrugged. ‘But Lysander came from a powerful family and he was cunning enough to find ways to force his way up the ladder … At first, his commanders would commend his brutality as overzealous bravery, then later they’d transfer him as far away as possible. Over the years Lysander was transferred to four different theatres of war against Native American nations — and in each one he left behind a string of atrocities.’
‘A string of atrocities,’ I echoed. Honeycutt was right — this really put Dry Gulch in a very different light.
‘And Lysander got away with it too.’ Honeycutt shot me a look of pure revulsion. ‘That was until 1864 … and Clay River. Lysander had been transferred yet again, and this time to take charge of an outpost in Colorado. Guess the boys at the top were trying to quarantine him.’ He snorted. ‘Well, it backfired. Lysander must’ve decided he was going to show everyone.’
‘Oh no.’ I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what w
as coming.
‘Lysander was approached by friendly Cheyenne, at Clay River, who wanted to cement a lasting peace with the US army …’
‘Oh God no.’
‘Kannon … the Cheyenne even flew a US flag over their village. Anyway, Lysander agreed to a peace treaty … but when the braves left the village he swept in with all his troops and slaughtered everyone he could find. He left one hundred and sixty dead bodies in that village, all murdered under their own US flag …’
Now Honeycutt was upset. ‘Darlin’, most of them were women and children. Lysander blew them into mince meat with his artillery.’
I felt sick.
Honeycutt sadly shook his head. ‘Lysander had a pattern. When he had the opportunity, he always went straight for the women. He was guilty of genocide all right … there was no doubt about that. But he always went for the women first.’
We stood there in silence. Honeycutt watched my face with concern while I digested the news.
We’d both seen bad things, Honeycutt even more so than I … But unless you let it harden your soul, you can never entirely accept the iniquity of which humans are capable. We are angels and demons. We project our own likeness onto the skies like so many shadow puppets … and then call them supernatural beings. But really they’re just the choices open to our own species. We are all capable of being both.
The two brothers had made the same choice.
Exhaustion rolled over me. I moved into his arms. Daniel gave a deep, heartfelt exhalation, as though he’d finally made it home. He gently rubbed his cheek on the top of my head.
It felt good, so good to be held …
I’d forgotten what it was like. It had been too long.
‘I shouldn’t have doubted you, darlin’.’ He whispered his soft Southern accent into my ear. ‘I guess I need to learn to …’ He stopped.
‘To trust I can take care of myself?’ I gazed up into his strong face. Honeycutt was used to parachuting into dire situations and saving everyone in sight.
But I didn’t need saving; I needed something else altogether.
Daniel bent his head and brushed his full lips across mine. Asking …
I caught his mouth with mine, gently opening it.
He swirled his tongue in and along mine. It was satin slick.
He groaned into my mouth.
I felt the heat explode through me. My mouth became a molten river of pleasure.
I needed this. I needed him.
I ran my hands up his muscled arms and over his broad shoulders. God, he felt good. Strong, brave, my very own archangel. I wanted to purr and growl and bite him all at the same time.
His heavily muscled arms clamped on my back, crushing me into him.
I pushed away to suck in a deep breath; the scent of his arousal was musky, male.
I stretched the neck of his T-shirt so I could kiss my way down his so very male, thick neck. I drowned in the musky scent and it sent me over the edge.
I wanted to ravage him.
From the tension in his body, the impulse was entirely mutual.
I nipped his neck, demanding action.
Daniel growled. He hoisted me up off the floor in one smooth motion.
I wrapped my legs tight around his waist.
He swung me back against the wall next to the window with a bang.
The streetlight cast eerie shadows over our tangled bodies.
I dived into his mouth like it was a swimming pool full of honey.
He pulled away, only to grab the ends of my shirt and rip.
I wasn’t wearing any underwear.
His gaze ran over my bare breasts and I shivered …
But he didn’t touch.
‘Darlin’, I’m not gonna be able to stop soon. But I don’t want our first time to be here … not in this rat-infested hole.’
I groaned with frustration. ‘But I want you now!’
He grinned like a tiger, showing his sharp white teeth. ‘Then I aim to please, ma’am.’ Daniel gave me his best Marine salute and dropped my legs down to the floor — all the better to rip my clothes off.
But he stopped, his gaze going to the window — the one the streetlight shone through. The one I’d pulled the board off.
‘What is it?’ I groaned.
Daniel went up to the window and looked through. His face hardened.
Damn! I’d forgotten … I should have got us out of here and back to my office.
‘Kannon,’ said Honeycutt in his best interrogation voice. ‘Why are you watching your own office?’
I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m not.’ I started pulling my clothes together.
He got the implication immediately. ‘Are you telling me that someone else is?’
‘Don’t start, Honeycutt,’ I replied. So much for what I really needed …
48
THE HUE & CRY
Pacific Avenue was busy. The traffic was still heavy and, as usual in San Francisco day or night, there was nowhere to park. I left my car in a parking garage in Broadway and walked.
The fog had cleared and the stars in the night sky twinkled their delight.
I ignored them …
The unholy argument I’d just had with Honeycutt made me want to howl instead. He’d gone ballistic at the thought of someone stalking me and demanded I let him act as my bodyguard until we knew who was watching me and why.
I’d told him to go to hell and left him standing there fuming.
Now I’d cooled down all I felt was depressed. I certainly wanted Daniel … maybe even much more than that … but this was too hard. Why did we have to fight all the time?
The Hue & Cry was a three-storey building hedged in between modern ones. It’d been carefully restored to an opulent black and ivory dinginess. It certainly looked like a nineteenth-century whorehouse.
The plaque at the front said The Hue & Cry was the den of the Corsairs. It was built on a block that’d originally been part of the old San Francisco waterfront. The Corsairs had arrived during the Gold Rush and, using their moored ship as their headquarters, had proceeded to take over San Francisco. When the harbour foreshore was filled in 1852, they’d had their ship dragged ashore and built their new headquarters over the top of the stranded boat.
The sign above the ticket seller stated admission granted you the opportunity to experience what the Barbary Coast had been like at the peak of its ill repute. And the opportunity to see Prairie Rose perform her world-famous act, the Circle of Death. No entry was permitted to persons under twenty-one and ID would be checked.
My baby-face meant I had to show ID as I paid my admission at the door. It was too expensive, but I refrained from grumbling and went inside. The show was in a huge hall with a stage, shielded by green velvet curtains, at the far end. The hall looked authentic and then some. It was richly decorated but seedy, all at the same time. The staff were dressed in period costume and acted the part. It was packed with noisy tourists.
I grabbed the only empty table; it was wedged right up against the wall. I had to shift it to squeeze into my chair. I accidentally jostled the middle-aged couple at the table next to me. But they ignored me as they were too busy arguing about the cost of the drinks he’d ordered.
The lights dimmed and the green curtains opened.
There was a big, round target mounted on a platform, to the left rear corner of the stage. It was green, matching the colour of the velvet curtains.
The actor who played the leader of the Corsairs appeared on stage in his pirate costume. ‘Well, my hearties, I’m Captain Shaker, the owner of The Hue & Cry.’ He bowed to the audience. ‘Welcome. You have come to see my red Rose perform her famous Circle of Death.’ He pointed to the big green target. ‘And so you shall!’
He beckoned off-stage imperiously.
Gilda stormed out in her Prairie Rose outfit: a fringed buckskin tunic, matching boots and her black hair tied back with a beaded headband. She had a green bow in one hand and a red quiver, full of arrows, over he
r shoulder.
Gilda scowled down at the audience.
‘She doesn’t look like any flower to me!’ scoffed the woman at the next table.
The actor playing Captain Shaker was hearty in a menacingly sleazy kind of way, but Gilda’s Prairie Rose was pure menace. From our first meeting I got the feeling that was her natural default. I was guessing she’d been hired as much for that, as for her skill and daring.
‘That’s the real bow and quiver,’ noted the woman’s husband. ‘I heard the arrows are new — but that’s the same bow Prairie Rose killed all those soldiers with.’
He was impressed but his spouse just sniffed.
He could be right. The bow and quiver looked the same as the ones I’d seen on Sigvard Blix’s porno postcard.
Gilda’s steely gaze strafed the room like an AK47. I was guessing she hated her job — and the audience she had to perform for. Then she caught a glimpse of me. Gilda’s free hand formed a fist … an impressive one.
Captain Shaker, seeing Gilda’s attention stray, jerked his head warningly at the target. Gilda reluctantly focused on the job at hand.
‘Bring out the girl,’ commanded Captain Shaker.
Screams sounded from the left side of the stage. Two pirates dragged a naked teenage girl out from behind the curtain …
The screams drove me to my feet.
Then I saw the girl wasn’t naked — that was a body stocking. She had to be another actor. Still …
Gilda must’ve caught my movement out of the corner of her eye and swung back to glare at me.
I stayed standing, but relaxed back against the wall. Gilda could glare all she liked!
They tied the screaming actress, spread-eagled, across the target …
Around me the audience dropped into appalled silence. Their faces said they weren’t sure they were ready for this much realism.
Captain Shaker jerked Gilda around and forced her to face the target. She slipped an arrow from her quiver and strung it.
The girl stopped screaming, her face a mask of fear. It sure looked real to me.
Coyote Page 33