The Heart You Need

by Diane R. Jewkes

  “I’ll never know until I open it,” she muttered, upset with allowing her imagination to get the better of her. The ribbon shushed as she pulled it off. There were no markings on the outside. No address, no stamp, no writing to give her an idea of where it came from. Slowly, she turned it over and unfolded the neat brown paper. A plain white box revealed itself, still no markings. Swallowing hard, she opened the box. A folded sheet of paper was the first thing she saw. Picking it up, she gasped at the object underneath. With shaking hands, she lifted the seven-pointed star engraved with SF Police on the front. It had been Tommy’s. She remembered when they found his body his blue uniform coat and badge had been missing. Setting the star down, she took a shaky breath and unfolded the sheet sitting next to the box. “Stop, or more of your family will pay.” Stark, cold words meant to terrify echoed in her mind as the paper fluttered to the desk. She put one hand over her mouth to stifle a scream and dug her nails into the edge of the desk with the other to keep from running.

  Think, Linnie, think! Her mind whirled and her heart pounded in her ears. Calm down, don’t faint … think! Her eyes were glued to the badge in the box. Tommy had been meticulous with his uniform and shined his badge until it gleamed. Not like the dull metal with dark, rusty looking stains in front of her. The badge number was his. She tentatively reached down and touched it. Drawing her hand back, she rubbed the rust between her fingers. Her eyes denied what her brain screamed: it was dried blood. She had challenged powerful people, and they had responded.

  Standing on shaky legs, she gathered the box, note, wrapping, and ribbon and put them in her bag. She needed to get help. Pru! She needed to go to Pru and Johnathan. He was an attorney. Surely he could help. What about Lord MacCairn? she thought. Should she let him know as well? She saw Mr. Weathersby, cigar clenched tightly in his teeth, eyes narrowed under bushy brows, heading toward her.

  “Good morning, sir. I was …”

  “Miss Ellsworth! My office, now.” The cigar swished side to side with his growled word.

  “Yes, sir.” Shoulders slumped, Linnie tamped down her panic as she followed, afraid she knew what was going to transpire.

  Dust motes danced in the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. Stacks of paper covered his desk, and books were strewn about the room. Sitting down heavily, he motioned for her to sit. Looking around and finding the chair with the least amount of items piled on it, she set them on the floor and sat down.

  “Miss Ellsworth, it has come to my attention that you were seen without an invitation at a private affair hosted by Mr. Vonn. Care to enlighten me as to why?”

  Think of something! Think, Linnie. You can’t tell him the truth. Linnie looked down trying to come up with a plausible story.

  “I was there to see what new fashions Lady Stoneham might be wearing.” She kept her eyes wide and cocked her head innocently. “I know I didn’t have an invitation, but sir, I couldn’t miss the chance to see if she might wear some of the famed family jewels her husband presented her with.” Inwardly she cringed, having no idea if there were any ‘famed’ family jewels. After she got out of this, she would have to contact Kara and apologize profusely for using her in a lie.

  “Oh, well that’s different,” he said, looking at her, a sharp glint in his eye. “Why haven’t I seen an article on it? Hmmm?”

  Pulling her shoulders back, pretending bravery she didn’t have, Linnie looked him straight in the eye. “I was forcefully removed before I could get a good look at the clothes or jewels the ladies were wearing. Perhaps if the paper had thought to secure an invitation for the society reporter, I wouldn’t have been treated so shabbily.” She tilted her chin, defying him to argue.

  Shuffling papers on his desk, Weathersby flushed, then with a wave of dismissal said, “Fine, fine. Just let me know next time there is some event that we need to get an invitation to, and stop sneaking into parties. Go on, get out of my office.”

  Linnie forced herself to not run to the door. Once on the other side, she let out the breath she had been holding as she leaned against the wall trying to calm her racing heart. That was too close.

  She hurried back to her desk and grabbed her bag and headed for the door. She needed to find out who had sent her the badge. Reaching the lobby, she headed to the bank of telephones, rang up Pru then left.

  Chapter 13

  “I hate when you’re right, and I don’t want to hear it.” Linnie slumped back onto the couch, wishing she could ignore Pru’s advice, but knowing she wouldn’t.

  “It’s not only the right thing to do,” Pru said, “but it’s also the fair thing to do. You need to share with Lord MacCairn what you received and let him help you.”

  Linnie started to protest, but Pru cut her off. “I know you would ‘try’ to go to those places, but you can’t act on this information as a reporter. You have to remember your family and that, as much as you hate it, people see the woman first and the reporter second.”

  Linnie placed her hands on her cheeks, her head feeling too heavy on her neck. Her hands slid up her face until they covered her eyes. She was so tired. Tired of fighting to be seen as a serious newswoman, tired of being seen as the young widow, tired of being afraid of the powerful people in this city she loved. She just wanted someone to tell her it was all a bad dream. The past three years weren’t real. Tears prickled behind her lids, but she fought them back, afraid once started they would never stop. The hollow pit of pain she had recently managed to control swirled in her gut screaming back at her, It’s all real, and you are helpless.

  “Sometimes I hate being a woman.” She sighed. “You are told all your life not to worry, that a man will be there for you. Well I loved a man, he tried his best, but he was gone most of the time, and then he died. My father died, and now my cousin is dead! All the men in my life are gone. It’s not right. The one reason my mother isn’t out on the street like so many other women is because my father did take care of her in his will, and he was wise enough to make sure Robert wrote his will the same way to take care of me.” Tears began cascading down her cheeks. Pru took Linnie in her arms and let her cry. “I don’t want to be taken care of! I want to stand on my own and be with a man because I choose to, not because I need to.” She pulled back from Pru, took a handkerchief from her purse, and dried her eyes. “And yet, here I am again, having to seek a man’s help because I’m a woman. What is right with that?”

  “Nothing is right,” Pru said, taking Linnie’s hands in hers. “At least we live in changing times. Not twenty years ago, you wouldn’t have been allowed to be a reporter and wander around unescorted.”

  “The world is changing, but it’s not changing fast enough,” Linnie said, rolling her eyes. Pru smiled.

  “I know it’s hard for you to not try and solve this on your own, but you know as well as I that short of pretending to be a man, there is no way you will be able to get into those back rooms to find out what’s actually happening. Think, Lin! Lord MacCairn wants to help, demands to help. Well then let him! He has the passport into that world, and no one will suspect him, and even if they do, his status will protect him. You can’t buy the type of aid he’s offering.”

  Her heart beat a dull thud against her chest, her shoulders slumped, and she had to force herself to lift her head and look at Pru. “I’ll contact him today and see if he is still willing to help. I just hate having to rely on him when I have no idea how long he will be in town. One more opportunity for a man to come into my life … and leave.”

  “I know it’s disconcerting not knowing how long he’ll be here.” Pru stood. “But you know it’s the right thing to tell him. Why don’t you use my telephone and call him at the hotel? Meet with him; tell him all of it. I know you’ll feel better.”

  • • •

  Linnie returned to work but couldn’t concentrate on stories of ladies’ hats or bicycle races. She called the hotel, and Kara agreed they would all meet that evening.

  Linnie’s feet dragged as she he
aded toward a conversation she dreaded. Her head agreed with Pru, but her heart wanted to run home and hide under the covers. Her feelings about bringing Alec into her investigations were only a tiny bit more frightening than her growing attraction to him. Her insides tickled with butterflies, remembering his kiss. Heat raced through her body like a flame through a pile of dry leaves. Her brain froze thinking about the complications being created as her feelings escalated.

  This wasn’t like with Robert. Their love had been like him: easy, uncomplicated, and safe. Nothing about Alec was safe or easy. His kiss fired her emotions, and she could imagine what making love to him would be: soul scorching. The possibility frightened and excited her. Feelings she hadn’t thought about for years tapped on her brain. Images of her body tangled up with his sent shivers of desire through her. The ding of the trolley bell pulled her from her thoughts as she saw the impressive facade of the hotel on her right. Lotta’s Fountain on her left marked where Kearny and Geary Streets met at Market; it was a vibrant part of town. Her mouth felt like a desert as she entered the lobby and walked to the redwood paneled hydraulic elevators. The quiet beauty of the hotel did nothing to dispel her anxiety. Thanking the elevator operator, she turned down the hallway toward the suite of rooms. The hallway seemed to narrow and grow in length with every step. Realizing what she was doing, Linnie shook her head, pulled her back up, and took a deep breath through her nose. She exhaled, pushing her doubts and fears away. Standing outside the suite, she almost turned and left, but berated herself for cowardice and knocked.

  Relief poured through her as Kara opened the door. “Linnie, please come in. Is everything all right?”

  Linnie smiled, appreciating the genuine warmth and concern in Kara’s voice. “Honestly, no,” She stepped into the parlor area and removed her coat. “As much as I have tried to keep all of you out of this business with Vonn, the situation has escalated to the point where I now need your help.”

  “What has happened? Has someone threatened you?” Alec came from the other room, concern knitting his brow.

  “Not exactly.” Linnie took a small step back as he strode toward her. Though they had known each other only a short time, she could see the anger boiling beneath the surface. A flutter grew from her stomach into her throat. He seemed to grow even larger as his emotions crescendoed.

  “What is ‘not exactly’? If anyone has laid a hand on you …”

  “Why don’t we sit, and Linnie can tell us what is going on.” Hawke’s calm voice was oil on troubled water, soothing the tension. Linnie was glad to see him as he walked over to Kara and they sat on the settee, while she sat on the couch. After a moment, Alec joined her, sitting close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him and smell the cologne and the scent that was all male and all him.

  Everyone looked at her, and she had a moment’s panic. Did she really want to involve these people? They had been nothing but kind to her and her brother. Now she was going to drag them into the foulest dregs of San Francisco and into something that could endanger them. She looked down at the purse in her hands, knowing what it contained. If she showed it to them and told them what was going on, there would be no turning back.

  “This was a mistake.” She started to rise, but Alec placed his hand on her arm, pulling her gently back down. His heat radiated through her.

  “No. It wasn’t,” he said quietly. “Please tell us what happened.”

  Linnie sat down, doubt and fear chewing at her stomach, opened her bag, and withdrew the box. The red ribbon slid to the floor like a stream of blood. Her hand trembling, she opened the box and set it on the table.

  “This was my cousin’s badge. It disappeared the night he died. This morning, this box was sitting on my desk at the paper.”

  “May I?” Alec asked, and at her nod, he picked up the box to examine the badge closer. “Was there a note or anything else with it?”

  She pulled the note out and handed it to him. Barely constrained rage burned in his eyes as he read the missive and then passed it to Hawke.

  “And you don’t feel you can go to the police?” Hawke asked as he handed the note to Kara. Her audible gasp increased Linnie’s unease.

  “No, I can’t. When Tommy was found, the chief of police launched an investigation, but soon it became clear that it was for show. Someone didn’t want the truth found out, and they controlled the chief. Even though I asked regularly, it never went anywhere, and I was told there were no leads.”

  She felt a handkerchief pressed into her hands as tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. Alec rubbed her arms. The warmth helped slow the shivering racking her body.

  “What were the circumstances around his death, might I ask?” Hawke reached, setting the badge back in its box.

  Linnie spoke, her voice choked with pain. “His body was found in an alley next to one of the bordellos in the Tenderloin. Several days before he died, he told me he was suspicious about the madam, Constance P. Jones, and her relationship with Vonn. Over the past few years, there have been an alarming number of young women who have disappeared, and Tommy thought Vonn and Jones were connected somehow.” Setting the handkerchief in her lap, she wrapped her fingers around a china cup Kara offered her. The aroma of tea and lavender drifted from the cup. Taking a sip, she let the warmth flow down her dry throat and ease the tension in her stomach. “He had a source that said these women were being forced into prostitution, and some were being sent by boat to other cities as sexual slaves. He voiced his concerns to the chief but was told to stop investigating.” Looking around, she could see the concern and feel the support of these people she was beginning to accept as friends.

  “We were told that he was down in the Tenderloin that night, answering a call about a theft. The bar is part of the house owned by Mrs. Jones …”

  Startling out of her tale, Linnie realized what she was saying and the company she was saying it to. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks. “This is not appropriate conversation. I am mortified that I have spoken of these things with you as if you were common people.” She set down her teacup and looked at Kara, wondering if she had shocked her with such base conversation. “I forget that as a reporter, I see many things that ‘gentler’ people don’t soil their hands with.” Twisting the handkerchief, she started to leave before she made a complete fool of herself.

  Kara reached over and took her hand. “Don’t worry, Linnie,” she said, looking first at Hawke and then Alec. “You haven’t insulted our delicate sensibilities. I don’t think I ever had any.” She smiled. “And though raised in the rarefied air of the nobility, Hawke and Alec aren’t delicate, hothouse flowers, prone to fainting at the slightest talk of bordellos and women of the evening.”

  Linnie saw the twinkle in Kara’s eyes and the consternation on the men’s faces and felt a smile begin. Her distress began to ease.

  “Speak for yourself, woman.” Hawke placed his hand on his forehead. “I feel faint at the thought of such indelicate conversation!”

  Kara burst out laughing, and Linnie began to giggle as Hawke rolled his eyes at his wife. Alec just shook his head, stood, and walked over to the sideboard to pour a stiff drink for himself and Hawke. “Ladies may I offer you something stronger than tea?”

  Linnie declined the offer but was grateful that, seeing her distress, Kara had chosen to put her at ease. Alec sat back down next to her, handed Hawke his drink, and lifted his glass toward Kara. “Ah, lass, you do have impeccable timing. I can’t wait to see you decimate the drawing rooms in London and Edinburgh.”

  Linnie leaned over to Kara, taking her hand and mouthing “thank you” quietly. The open acceptance from this woman, so different but so similar to herself, lifted a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying.

  “Now, I hope you understand we are here to help.” Alec reached over and set his hand on her shoulder. “Please tell us what else you know.”

  She felt the strength of his hand and looked into eyes that showed concern and caring. She
felt caught in the intensity of his gaze. The heat of his hand grew, and his grip tightened slightly. She leaned toward him, forgetting place and time, just wanting to wrap herself in the safety of his arms.

  A throat being cleared and the slight rattle of a teacup broke the moment, and Linnie felt herself again burn with embarrassment. Scooting back to the other side of the couch, she chanced a look at Alec and saw him shifting uncomfortably, tugging down his coat sleeves and fidgeting with his tie. Those little movements helped calm her. She reached for her teacup and looked up at Kara and Hawke. They must be great poker players, she thought; their faces were inscrutable.

  “Please continue,” Hawke quietly encouraged her.

  “The police report said he was found outside the bordello.” Linnie shivered, breathing deeply, trying to calm the jumping in her stomach. “That he was partially undressed and that it appeared he had been beaten to death. His coat, hat, badge, and gun were all missing. The inspectors said it looked like he had been killed somewhere else and his body dumped in the alley. That was part of their reasoning in closing the case. They had no witnesses and no idea where he was killed.”

  “Surely there was a coroner’s report.” Hawke looked perplexed as he picked up and held the badge. “I would think the death of an officer of the law would be very important. An inquest would be held at the very least.”

  “You would think that,” Linnie nodded, “but earlier in the year, my paper had done an article about the inadequacies of the coroner’s office. Dr. Hawkins, the chief medical examiner, had gone to the city council for more money. He bemoaned the poor conditions of his offices. There aren’t enough exam tables or equipment, no refrigeration for the bodies, and they were …” She stopped as the answer to how Vonn could have gotten away with the murder came to her.

  “What is it?” Kara asked.

  “I’ve been so blind!” She looked at her friends. “Because the coroner’s office is such a mess, they send out a lot of their forensic work to third-party companies. I’ll bet Tommy’s work was done by one of those companies.” She took her bag and pulled out her notebook and pencil and jotted down some notes. “I need to find out which companies do the work and if any of them are owned by Vonn. I can pretend to interview Dr. Hawkins as a follow up to the article.” She tapped the pencil against her lips, lost in thought. “No … even better! First I’ll talk to Scotty—he wrote the first article—and see if he knows who did the work.”