The Killing Look

by J. D. Rhoades

  They manhandled the trunks into the front parlor. In a trice, they had them open and Cade was putting on one outfit after another while the tailor buzzed around him, hmm-ing and tugging and stepping back to admire his handiwork. Cade had to admit, there was a lot to admire. There was a little bit more fancy trim and filigree than he was used to, but when he looked in the mirror, the fellow that looked back at him looked well-turned out and prosperous. The trousers, vest, jacket, shirts—all fit him as if he’d been born wearing them. There was one exception. The jacket seemed a little baggy on the left side. Cade hesitated about mentioning it, then the tailor reached into one of the trunks. “This is the last bit.” He pulled out a complicated leather belt and holster. Cade stripped off the jacket he’d been wearing and let Simonson show him how to fit the shoulder rig around him. With the jacket back on and the Navy revolver nestled into the holster, the lines of the jacket were perfect. He’d told Simonson he’d gotten used to wearing his weapon on his hip, but he was glad the tailor had chosen to ignore him. A gun belt would look as out of place with these duds as a whore in church.

  “Sir,” Cade said, “you do excellent work.”

  “Yes,” the tailor said absently as he stepped back to examine his work on its living model, “I do.”

  “Now,” Cade nodded at Samuel across the room, “I need you to do the same for my partner here.”

  The tailor’s face froze. “Him?”

  “Yeah. Him.”

  “I…have already fitted this gentleman for his clothes.”

  “Yeah, and you’ve turned him out nicely, I have to admit.” Cade smiled thinly. “Almost as fancy as me. But we need to get him kitted out for weapons, like you just did for me. And if you know where we might find the pistols to fit the holsters, that would save us all some time and effort.”

  “Arm…him.”

  “Yes. Arm. Him. I need him.”

  The tailor’s face was blank. “That would be, let me just say, unusual.”

  “I think we’d all agree these are unusual times. Wouldn’t you say, Samuel?”

  “Yes,” Samuel said, his voice dry, “most unusual.”

  “We’ll need the iron, at least, by tomorrow.”

  The tailor’s studied composure was beginning to crack. “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow, yes. And I’d be obliged if you’d quit repeating everything I say. Now, I reckon that will be all, Mr. Simonson. But I hope we’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes,” Simonson said, a bemused expression on his face. “Tomorrow.” He turned toward the door, then turned back. “Hold out your hands,” he said, looking at Samuel.

  Samuel blinked. “My hands?”

  “Yes. Hold out your hands.”

  Samuel did so. Simonson looked at the extended hands for a moment, then nodded. “I will see you tomorrow. Same time. And I assume this goes on Mr. Hamrick’s account.”

  “Sure,” Cade said. “Let’s just leave it that way for now.”

  Simonson nodded again and left.

  When the door closed behind him, Samuel hesitated for a moment, then, to Cade’s amazement, he started to laugh. Shortly, Cade was laughing with him.

  “Lord above,” Samuel said as his guffaws subsided into chuckles. “Did you see his face?”

  Cade took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “Little bastard didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.” That drew another laugh from them both.

  Gradually, the laughter wound down again. Samuel looked over at Cade, his face abruptly serious. “When you were talking to Mr. Simonson, you referred to me as your partner.”

  Cade nodded. “I suppose I did.”

  “And are we partners, then?”

  Cade shrugged. “Well, we do seem to be two men engaged in a common enterprise. So, I’d say yeah.”

  “And my color doesn’t bother you?”

  “Frankly, Samuel, your goddamn prickly attitude bothers me a lot more than the shade of your skin, but it seems you got your reasons, so I’m willin’ to make allowances.”

  Samuel nodded. “Very well. I’ll make allowances as well.”

  Cade blinked in surprise. “Allowances? For what?”

  “Never mind.” Cade was beginning to get his own back up, but when he saw the ghost of a smile on Samuel’s face, he nodded and smiled back.

  “Okay,” Cade said. “Fair enough.” He held out his hand. Samuel took it and the two men shook.

  “By the way,” Samuel said, “is there any of that good whiskey left?”

  Cade nodded. “I think there may be a couple of swallows left. Would you care for a little snort to seal the deal?”

  “That would seem appropriate, Mr. Cade.”

  Cade gestured toward the door. “After you, Mr…” He stopped, suddenly embarrassed. “Well, shit. I apologize. I seem to recall Miss Bridget yelling your last name at you, but it’s gone out of my head.”

  Samuel smiled. “It’s Clayborne.”

  “Mr. Clayborne, then. Can I stand you to a drink?”

  “I would be honored, Mr. Cade.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Mei startled awake, gasping as if she was coming up from underwater. She looked around in panic for a moment, disoriented and confused. In the dimness of the candle-lit room, she saw the figure of a woman seated in a nearby rocking chair. As the sleep burned swiftly from her brain, she recognized the slender figure of The White Orchid. Her hands were busy with something in her lap. Mei could hear a clicking sound, like insects in the wall. She rubbed her eyes and looked more closely.

  “You’re…knitting?” she croaked.

  The White Orchid smiled and held up one pale, long-nailed hand. “Keeps the fingers nimble. And improves concentration.” She picked up the bundle of yarn and knitting needles in her lap and set it on a nearby table. “How are you? Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Mei said, suddenly shy and unsettled. All of the stories bandied about The White Orchid portrayed her as some kind of cold, merciless goddess of death. It was disconcerting to see the legend sitting in a chair and knitting like an old grandmother.

  The White Orchid stood. “Would you like something more to eat?”

  There was a gold clock sitting on a nearby table, and Mei gasped as she noticed the time. She leaped up out of the bed. “Oh. No. I have to get back. My grandparents will be worried sick.”

  The White Orchid shook her head. “No need to worry. They’ve been informed that you’re safe. And that they, and you, are under the protection of Mr. Kwan.”

  Mei blinked in surprise. “We are?”

  “Of course. You’ve done him a great service, letting him know of a threat to him and his interests. And you’ve done it at risk to yourself. Mr. Kwan does not let service go unrewarded.” That perpetual smile changed subtly in a way that sent a chill down Mei’s spine. “Or threats go unanswered.”

  “So, I’m to stay here, then?”

  The White Orchid nodded. “For a short time. I’m sorry to say you can’t have the run of the establishment, but I can have anything you need brought to you.”

  Mei looked down at her clothing and grimaced. “I don’t want to trouble anyone, but I could use a bath.”

  “And some clean clothes.” She went to the door. “It will be no trouble. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  “And…um…” Mei didn’t know how to ask what she needed next.

  The White Orchid raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

  Mei tried not to blush. “I’m about to start my monthly time.”

  “Ah. No worries. We’ll tend to that right away, then.”

  “Thank you so much…” Mei paused. “I’m not sure what you call you. Miss Orchid?”

  She laughed. “You may call me Lin.”

  “Thank you, Lin. Is that your real name?”

  The woman didn’t answer, just closed the door. Mei heard the click of the lock.

  She sat back down on the bed.
Despite the reassurances, she still felt a cold knot of fear at the pit of her stomach. She was, after all, still in the house of one of Chinatown’s most notorious criminals, a man who reputedly trafficked not only in opium and gambling, but in human flesh. She was in his good graces for now, and she still couldn’t believe how kind his notorious right-hand woman was being, but she feared what might happen if things changed. There had been a lot of changes in her young life lately, and none of them had been good up till now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull,” Cade said. “And put the front sight on the—” He was interrupted by the report of the gun. Samuel’s shot kicked up a fountain of mud at the foot of the rotting post they’d set a bottle on as a target.

  Cade sighed. “Don’t worry about quick drawin’. The man who lives to walk away is the man who takes the time to put the lead where it needs to go.”

  It was early morning, and the weak rays of the rising sun made beams through the slowly dissolving fog that hung over the mud flat Cade had picked for target practice. The waters of the bay lapped gently at the shore a few feet away. The sharp, rich smell of salt water and sea life hung over the place. The spot was as isolated as he could find, a good quarter mile away from the nearest buildings. Something, he couldn’t tell what, had once stood here. A set of posts extending in a line out into the water showed where a small dock had once stood. The foundation stones of some razed building waited to trip up the unwary in the tall grass behind a stone seawall that created a short drop to the beach.

  Samuel raised the pistol, more slowly this time, and sighted down the barrel, one eye closed.

  “Keep both eyes open,” Cade said.

  Samuel made an annoyed sound, deep in his throat, but opened both eyes. His next shot went low, but it struck the post and knocked the bottle to the ground.

  “Better.” Cade walked over, picked up the still-whole bottle, and placed it back on the post. He turned back to see Samuel taking aim, with Cade still in the line of fire.

  “Whoa! Whoa!” Cade held up his hands and leaped to one side as Samuel pulled the trigger. The bottle shattered, bits of glass spraying to every side, a couple landing on Cade’s sleeve.

  “Damn it, man,” Cade sputtered, advancing on Samuel, “watch out!” Samuel was standing there, wide-eyed with shock, looking at the Navy revolver as if it had suddenly turned into a cobra. Cade resisted the impulse to yank it from his hand. He took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as he could. “Don’t shoot at somethin’ I’m that goddamn close to, okay?” He saw that Samuel’s hands were trembling and held out his own. “Okay, give it here.”

  “I’m sorry.” Samuel handed the gun over. “I’m sorry,” he said again. The man looked ready to faint.

  “It’s okay.” He looked back at the post and the remnants of the shattered bottle. “It was a good shot, though.”

  “Thanks,” Samuel said. He looked soberly at Cade. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

  “It ain’t a matter of what you’re cut out for,” Cade said. “It’s a matter of what we’ve got to do. If we’re going to be of any use, we’ve got to get you at least comfortable with a pistol.”

  “Hey!” a loud voice called to them from out of the fog. “You two!”

  Cade looked. The man standing on the wall above the beach was short and stout, with a round, clean-shaven face and a sour expression. He wore the long coat and silver star of a policeman. His wood truncheon was out, held loosely by his side.

  “Ah, Christ,” Cade growled in a low voice. “These bastards again.” Slowly, so as not to cause suspicion, he slid the pistol into its holster. He hadn’t wanted to get his new clothes all muddy, so he was back in his old accustomed dungarees, work shirt, and hip holster.

  The officer was scowling at them. He gestured imperiously with his billy club. “Come here.”

  The tone got Cade’s back up, especially after his recent encounter with the San Francisco law, but he didn’t need any more trouble. “Stay here,” he muttered to Samuel as he started over to the policeman.

  “No,” the man snapped. “Both of you.”

  The tone made Cade grit his teeth, but he kept going as Samuel fell in beside him. He pasted the best smile he could muster on his face as they reached the wall. “Mornin’, constable,” he said. “What can we help you with?”

  The stout officer’s position on the high ground had him looking down at them, a position he seemed to enjoy way too much for Cade’s taste. “What are you two doing out here?” he demanded.

  Cade kept smiling. “Just a little target practice.”

  The officer gestured at Samuel with his club. “Did you let this boy have a gun?”

  Cade heard Samuel’s quick intake of breath and tried to will him to stay calm. “I did. I’m teaching my partner here how to defend our employer and his family. We were attacked by the Chinese the other night.”

  The officer’s scowl deepened. “I don’t approve of a coon havin’ a gun.”

  Cade felt Samuel stiffen next to him, but at this point, even he had had enough. “Well, sir,” he said in a tight voice, “last I heard, a man’s got a right to carry a firearm in this city. An’ if I have that right, seems to me I also have the right to hand that firearm to anyone I want without any other son of a bitch’s approval.”

  The officer’s face began to redden. “I ought to take you both in.” He raised the billy club.

  Cade reached down and put his hand on his pistol. “You can try, I reckon.”

  The man got even redder. He switched the billy club to his off hand and began to reach for the pistol on his own hip. But before he could draw, something in Cade’s eyes stopped him. He let his hand fall to his side. “You two get out of here,” he said, trying to sound commanding but unable to keep the tremor from his voice.

  “Yes, sir.” He turned to Samuel. “Mr. Clayborne, we’ll continue the lesson elsewhere, if you like.”

  Samuel nodded, his face grave. “That would please me very much, Mr. Cade.”

  Together, they stepped up on the wall, which set both of them a good head taller than the officer. The man stepped back. They didn’t look back as they walked to the carriage they’d left at the edge of the vacant lot. Neither spoke as Samuel untied the horse and they climbed in. As they pulled away, Samuel spoke up. “Thank you,” he said in a voice barely audible over the rattle of the wheels.

  Cade waved dismissively. “Trust me, standin’ up to a little pissant like that was pure pleasure.”

  “Still, you could have gotten in trouble. And on my account.”

  Cade shrugged. “Got to have your back if I expect you to have mine, right?”

  “Right.” Samuel actually cracked a smile.

  Well, that’s something, Cade thought.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Bathed, dressed in fresh clothes, and fed again on a delicious meal of jellied eels and ginger noodles, Mei felt like a new woman. She was getting a little restless, though. Lin hadn’t returned, and neither had Mr. Kwan. She walked to the door and rattled the knob. Still locked from the outside. She was still a prisoner. That put a dent in her feeling of well-being. In a moment, the door opened, and an old woman stuck her gray head in. “What do you want?” she said irritably.

  “Do you know how much longer I’ll be here, Auntie?” Mei kept her voice polite. She was not one to forget her manners.

  “You’ll be here ’til Boss Kwan says you can go.” The door slammed shut.

  Mei sighed and sat on the bed. In a few moments, the door opened again and The White Orchid entered, smiling and elegant as always. “I’m sorry we’ve kept you waiting,” she said. “Mr. Kwan has had several meetings to discuss the news you’ve brought. There is much to be considered.”

  “Has he decided what to do?”

  “Not yet. Mr. Kwan and his brother are in his office now. He does not make a decision without consulting his brother.”r />
  “His brother was very kind to me,” Mei said. “I’d like to thank him for that.”

  Lin, as always, was smiling, but Mei was learning to read the subtle variations in that look. This smile was the type one gave to indulge a naive child who’s said something foolish. Perhaps the younger Mr. Kwan was not always as kind. “I’ll let him know,” was all Lin said. “In the meantime, is there anything you need?”

  “I’m kind of bored,” Mei confessed. “Is there anything I could read?”

  “Ah? You like to read?”

  “When I have the time, yes.”

  “And how, if I may ask with no offense, did you learn to read?”

  Mei looked down. “When my grandfather’s sight began to fail, he and my grandmother taught me.”

  Lin nodded. “Your devotion to your family speaks well of you.” There was a strange tone in her voice that Mei had trouble interpreting.

  “They’re the reason I’m here,” Mei said. “They took me in when my parents died, and smuggled me in when they came here by disguising me and my grandmother as boys.”

  Lin looked thoughtful. “I don’t suppose there’d be any harm in showing you the library.”

  “The library?”

  “Oh, yes. Mr. Kwan’s library is quite extensive.”

  She was right. Up a flight of stairs and behind a pair of locked double doors was an enormous room with more bookshelves than Mei had ever seen. The shelves reached from floor to ceiling, with a rolling ladder providing access to the upper ones. The room had no windows, but a stained-glass skylight above provided some illumination. Mei noted that the design of the stained glass depicted an enormous green dragon that spread across a starry sky. It must have cost a fortune. Mei ran her fingers along the nearest shelf of books. The titles were mostly in Chinese, but a few English titles were interspersed amongst the volumes. She was disappointed to see that most of the titles were dry-looking books of history, philosophy, and science.