The pain was unbearable and the blanket of gray washed over him. There was a pounding in his ears and the room was slowly closing in. He felt like he was floating. The overwhelming desire was to just lie down and go to sleep, anything to escape the pain, but there was a voice in the distance, and it belonged to his beloved. Hearing it made him want to fight just a little bit more.
Meanwhile, Goldie Donahue had made her way back over to the arena. She held out her arms toward the boxers. Her voice was loud and clear, counting up to ten, “One, two, three…”
Patrick crawled blindly around the mat, reaching for the ropes. Each time he tried to stand a bolt of pain ran down his spine. He opened his mouth, and a bubble of blood escaped his lips. A thin beam of light guided him. He moved toward it, straining in the dark. His left eye was hazy, but he could make out the shadow of James Williams’ face. It was a mask of pure ecstasy. Williams suddenly leapt to his feet and shouted, “Kill him, son, kill him for me!”
Samuel calmly walked over, looked down. “My dad says it’s time for you to die.”
Patrick Deane
Patrick would never fully understand how he’d managed to get back on his feet, or how he found the strength to exert himself, but when he was a very old man, resting alongside his beloved, he would remember this day and realize it was her voice that had determined their destiny. When he heard it, he knew he must help her.
Mara was standing on her chair, screaming his name, begging for someone to stop the fight. Her friends had their arms around her, and their tears were flowing. She eventually managed to break free, pushing her way over to the ring. Jenjie caught her before she crawled underneath the ropes. He held her, his hands wrapped around her waist. He did his best to soothe his friend, whispering in her ear and rubbing her shoulders. He’d been trying to stop the fight, but no one would listen. There was too much money to be made. So, he just held onto her while she leaned towards the ropes, grasping. It was all he could do.
“Patrick!” She screamed over and over, reaching for him in vain. With his one good eye, he saw her. Mara was sobbing, she needed him, and so he stumbled until he was back on his feet. He began to strike out, clumsy at first, but he was determined. He missed the first few times, but he eventually found his rhythm. Samuel smiled and taunted, but with a flicker of uncertainty.
* * * *
Once he realized that Patrick wasn’t giving up, he became afraid. Fists were coming at him from every direction, and the blows he took were painful…so excruciatingly painful. The cocaine in his system was fading, he no longer felt like God. In fact, he felt tired. His body hurt, oh, it hurt so much. Each punch peeled away another layer of his determination, another layer of courage. Patrick continued to pound away.
Samuel took the abuse as long as he could, his giant body wracked in agony, and then he could take no more. He tried to retreat to the far side of the ring, but Patrick followed. Now, it was his turn to bleed. A shower of punches rained down, opening fresh cuts and bruises. He saw his own blood flowing towards the ground. It poured freely from his mouth and nose. He stumbled around, looking for a way out. Patrick grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him back around. He reached his fist behind his head, and let out a hard uppercut to his jaw. A spray of blood flew onto the crowd, generating more screaming and cheering. People were on their feet now, chanting Patrick’s name, the sound growing in volume, pulsing out like a giant heartbeat. Samuel’s body crumbled beneath him, the last of his willpower destroyed. He curled up in a fetal position, his hands over his head. Two bodyguards, each holding one of her arms, led Goldie through the frenzied crowd. They lifted her up onto a velvet chair, supporting her around her waist, a satisfied smile on her face. She raised her gloved arms high into the air and began counting up, “One, two, three…” Each number encouraged more cheering and foot stomping. When she announced “ten”, the audience roared, hats and coins were tossed into the air. Others simply stared into space, realizing the fortunes they’d lost.
“Congratulations, Mr. Deane! You are the light-heavy weight champion of the Golden Queen Casino! First round of drinks on the house!” This caused another eruption of cheering and table pounding.
As Samuel’s eyes were closing, he looked out into the crowd of faces, searching for Pops, but he was long gone. Samuel didn’t realize that tonight was the very last time he’d ever see him, and perhaps that was for the best. Because later that evening, he would take his last bit of cocaine and mix it with a little Maiden Flower. At the first light of dawn, a young Chinese girl found his body covered in a pool of vomit. He’d waited all night for his Pops to open up those beautiful red doors.
The Winner
When the winner was announced, it created a roar of cheers and applause from the audience, as the crowd slowly dispersed, many on their way down to the casino. Patrick accepted his money, and a small golden trophy, but he didn’t remember any of it. Joshua came forward to make sure that he received everything he was due. Mara had finally managed to squeeze through the ropes, and held his head gently in her lap. He smiled up at her, touched her face, and his eyes slowly closed. She leaned forward and kissed his bloody mouth, pushing his wet bangs out of his eyes. Sarah was eventually able to find a doctor who saw to Patrick’s injuries. They brought him home, wrapped in bandages. Jenjie and Joshua carried him up to his room and helped him to bed. Mara wouldn’t leave his side. He ran a fever for the first few days and was delirious most of the time. Mrs. Levy asked her grandson to move in an extra cot so Mara could monitor him through the night and administer his medicines. She patiently washed his face, and tended to his injuries. His nose was badly broken, along with three cracked ribs, his kidneys swollen. His entire body was covered in cuts and bruises, and bound with bandages. She was careful to keep each one clean and fresh.
On Sunday morning, Jenjie dropped off a pot of fresh soup from the restaurant. His mother sent it along with a ceramic pot filled with antiseptic salve made from Chinese herbs. Mrs. Lee included some dried ginseng root inside a small glass jar. She left instructions with Jenjie, explaining how it could be made into tea to help speed the healing process. Mara and Sarah worked together preparing the salve and applying it gently to his wounds. Then they made several batches of ginseng tea. Mara tried her best to get Patrick to drink it. When he was somewhat awake, she’d spoon-fed him a bit of soup, until he fell back to sleep. In his delirium, he tossed and turned, sometimes crying out Mara’s name. On the third day, his fever broke. It was early in the morning with the rain pounding against the bedroom window. Mara was looking over at him when his eyes opened.
His mouth pulled up in a lopsided grin. “Hello, little rose,” he whispered hoarsely.” She threw her arms around him, and he caressed the back of her hair—the rain kept falling.
* * * *
Mara helped Patrick downstairs for breakfast. He was famished, eating everything placed before him. His friends smiled in relief as he spooned up another helping of scrambled eggs. His face was covered in bruises, his right eye swollen, and his nose taped. Otherwise, he seemed ready for the world. After eating, he stood, and Mara rushed to his side. He smiled down at her patiently.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m going to be alright.” He tried to assure her, but she noticed the pain in his eyes when he walked, and his broken ribs were still sore to the touch. He reached down and placed his arm around her waist as she led him toward the parlor. The rain pounded against the windowpanes, and Mrs. Levy tossed some wood in the fireplace. The housemates sat around, sipping hot chocolate.
Sarah turned toward Patrick. “It’s such a relief that you’re home safe. We’ve all been so worried about you, and we could barely get Mara to take a bite to eat while you’ve been recovering. She just couldn’t bear to leave your side. I had her meals brought up to your room while you slept.”
He looked up, reaching for her hand. “My little rose is quite the woman.”
Her friends nodded in agreement.
A knock on the door
made everyone turn. Mrs. Levy walked over to see who it was. A tall man, with steel gray eyes made his way into the room. He wore a faded brown duster and a Stetson hat. His dark hair was graying at the temples, and there were deep lines around his eyes. It was a handsome face, one that had seen all the good and the bad from San Francisco over the years.
“Sorry to barge in on you like this, but I have some interesting news.” Patrick waved at him from his seat, and introduced the city’s sheriff. Most had met him before, but it was Mara’s first time. He smiled and took her hand.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Miss McClain. Patrick never gets tired of talking about you.” She blushed, looking into his cool gray eyes. His crow’s-feet deepening as he grinned.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Sarah took his hat and coat, and they made room for him on the couch. Miss Levy handed him a mug of fresh cocoa.
“Well, the last few days have been very revealing,” he began. All eyes were on him as he went on. “On the night of Patrick’s fight, I came down to talk to Mr. Williams. I’d planned to take him down for questioning after the crowds dwindled. I’ve been looking into his case after Patrick told me a little about his history in Ireland.” Sheriff Carpenter folded his weather-beaten hands together, and quickly explained the rumors surrounding Katie and Daniel’s murders. The friends looked at one another, dumbfounded.
“Well, I couldn’t exactly go to Kinvara to investigate, so I decided to do a little background check on Mr. Williams right here in San Francisco, and it appears that he’s been involved in a lot of dark dealings.”
A murmur went around the room as he spoke. “Mr. Williams has apparently been mixed up in some shady gambling ventures in the city, mainly boxing and cards. He sponsored your opponent, Patrick. Samuel Johnson was his boy.” Mr. Deane looked up, eyes widening. “And there’s more. Samuel Johnson is dead.”
They all gasped. “He was found outside of one of the opium dens in Chinatown after the fight. He’d overdosed. I was interested in talking to him on the account of the murder of a boxer a few years back. It’s rumored that he killed one of his opponents in an alley, and some of the fighters mentioned that James Williams might have disposed of the body. This in itself would be enough to bring him in for questioning, but there’s even more to the story,” he said, shaking his head.
The group was silent as the sheriff detailed his investigation. “James Williams had been making quite a bit of money off of Samuel Johnson. He’d invested in several properties around the city. There have been quite a few complaints made against him for unfair renting practices. He’s been known to threaten his clients, sometimes even physically. He’d often bring Samuel along as a kind of bodyguard. He’d kept them silent by intimidation. Only a handful of his tenants were willing to come forward and speak to me.
“His tactics proved profitable, and over the past few years he made a small fortune in real estate, but he became just a little too greedy. The rest that I’m about to explain is of a delicate nature, and I wouldn’t like to disturb the ladies by it.”
Sarah shook her head vehemently. “No, Sheriff, we’re tough women, each one of us. There’s not too much that can shock me after living in San Francisco all these years. Betty and Mara are definitely no shrinking violets, either. So, please go on.”
The women all nodded in agreement.
Sheriff Carpenter studied Mrs. Levy’s face. He nodded at her, a glimmer of fondness and respect in his eyes. “Very well, then.” He looked at Patrick as he explained the rest of his story. “James Williams apparently was very fond of the opium dens in Chinatown. He was very partial to The Red Doors. He enjoyed spreading his money around. He was also a frequent guest at Lola’s Ladies, the whorehouse on Kearny Street.”
Mara’s jaw tightened as she listened to this new information. He was certainly the vilest man she’d ever come across. The sheriff paused a moment before continuing, “Mr. Williams spent a small fortune on women and drugs. He also frequented several of the gambling houses in town, including a few of the back street Chinese game houses. The Tongs took notice when he became a regular. For those that aren’t familiar with the Tongs, well, they’re an organized gang of Chinese citizens involved in a lot of criminal activity, including making demands on their own people by charging protection fees—racketeering we call it. These men are in charge of most of Chinatown’s drug dens, whorehouses, and gambling rooms.
“I spoke to several fighters, and they informed me that James Williams was expecting quite a payday from his boxer Samuel Johnson. He put a very large chunk of cash on the fight, probably figured he could pay off his gambling debts that way. Well, I don’t think he ever imagined that he’d lose. He apparently fled right after the fight.”
Mara took in a deep breath, a small glimmer of hope surfaced.
The sheriff went on to explain, “Several witnesses placed him at the Embarcadero shortly after the fight. He was spotted keeping company with a young woman. They boarded one of the ferries and haven’t been seen since.”
Mara’s stomach tightened. She was certain that the young lady had to be Jane Darby. My God, the poor girl probably had no idea who she was dealing with. She said a silent prayer for her.
Joshua Cohen looked at the sheriff and said, “This must be why he’s been withdrawing so much money from his accounts over the last few weeks.”
Betty turned and asked, “What do you mean, Joshua?”
“Well, the bank tellers informed me just the other day that he’d been taking out significant withdrawals. We figured that he was getting ready to purchase another piece of property, and that he was paying in cash, but it sounds like he was using it to gamble. So, Mara, this really changes things for you.”
“How is that?”
“He left his accounts very low this week. If he doesn’t come back, and now that sounds quite unlikely, then your property can be picked back up by the bank. It would be available to either purchase or lease. As the bank manager, I’d give you first option,” he grinned.
Betty kissed Joshua on the cheek. He flushed happily, and took her hand in his. Mara’s eyes filled with tears as she thanked him. She then looked up at Patrick; he smiled; no words were needed. He’d gone to the sheriff like he’d promised, and now James Williams was hopefully miles away. The sheriff had uncovered a giant can of worms, all because Patrick had kept his word to keep her safe and protected.
“Sheriff, what does this mean for the investigation?”
“Ma’am, if this man comes anywhere near town, he’ll be arrested. I’m going to send his information on to some neighboring cities, but as far as him coming back, well, I wouldn’t hold my breath. I think your days dealing with James Williams are over.”
The sheriff finished his last sip of cocoa and stood up. Mara rushed over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you so much. I can’t even begin to tell you what this means. You’ve taken such a weight off me.”
“It’s my pleasure, ma’am. I’m happy to have helped.” He walked over to Mrs. Levy and thanked her for the cocoa with an admiring smile. After he’d left, the friends talked over one another, barely able to contain their excitement. Donald stood up from his chair to make an announcement.
“This is such delightful news. I think we’ve all been through so much together these last few weeks. I think it’s time we celebrate.”
Jeremiah looked up with interest “That’s a wonderful idea. What were you thinking?”
“The mayor visited the store yesterday. He invited us all to come join him at the Palace Hotel on Saturday. Everyone who is someone will be attending, and Mara, it would be a wonderful way for you to meet some new art patrons. There will be ballroom dancing, an orchestra, and delicious food and drinks.” He spun around the floor, arms outstretched. He took Mara by the hand and guided her across the room. Their friends cheered them on.
“It sounds absolutely fabulous. The Palace Hotel is right down on Montgomery Street,” Donald said, twirling Mara arou
nd in a graceful circle.
She looked toward Patrick, wondering if he’d be strong enough to go.
As if reading her mind, he slowly walked over, bowed, and reached for her hand. Donald smiled, gently releasing her into Patrick’s arms. He swept her up, looking deep in her eyes, and gave her a quick peck on the nose.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea, even if I’m limping a bit; I think it’s the perfect way to celebrate.”
Mara beamed up at him, thrilled that they would be going to their first dance together.
“Wonderful,” Donald said, clapping his hands together, “We should all get dressed in our finest attire. Oh, yes, it’s time to dust off our dancing shoes!”
The Gowns
The rain came down incessantly all week. Mara stayed by Patrick’s side, helping him change his bandages, and assisting Sarah around the house. Their excitement grew as the day of the dance drew closer. On Thursday afternoon, Betty came back to the house early. She knocked softly on Mara’s bedroom door. She entered and immediately began pacing back and forth. Mara watched her patiently, waiting for her to begin.
She smiled at Betty and asked, “Is something on your mind?”
Well…yes, it’s just…I’m really excited for the dance on Saturday…but I’m feeling a little unprepared.”
“Why is that?”
“You see,” she hesitated, “it’s just I don’t’ really have anything really suitable to wear, and this is going to be the first time Joshua and I go out dancing.”
Autumn Lady Page 13