“What the hell is going on?” his friend asked, noting the concern on Garrett's face. “Your bank teller showed up looking like he'd just seen the devil himself, and you don't look much better."
“Claire went to Chinatown again,” Garrett said. “I need someone who speaks the damnable language. Let's go."
Christopher didn't argue. Within minutes, they were riding down the hill. When Donald Aldrich opened the door of his house, he was greeted by Garrett's fist. The blow was totally unexpected and Claire's brother toppled back against the door, his hand coming up to nurse his bruised jaw.
“Where is she?” Garrett demanded.
“Who the hell are you?” Donald demanded, stumbling to his feet. “And what the hell do you want?"
“Your sister,” Garrett said, advancing into the narrow entryway. He twisted his fingers into the front of Donald's shirt and pushed him against the wall. “Claire. Where is she?"
“On the Hill taking care of some old woman,” Donald answered, thinking he'd opened his door to a madman. “Now, get out of my house before I..."
“Do what?” Garrett challenged him, itching to beat the man's face into a pulp. “Call your friend Chen Loo to avenge you. Don't threaten me,” he said in a coarse whisper. “I'd like nothing better than to toss your mangy hide into the Bay."
“Easy, old friend,” Christopher said, prying his way between Garrett and Claire's bewildered brother. “Let the man talk."
Garrett needed to release his anger and Donald Aldrich made a perfect target, but he forced himself to rein in his emotions and do what Christopher suggested. Slowly his hand opened and Claire's brother, free of the banker's deathlike grip, slumped against the wall.
“I haven't seen Claire since yesterday,” Donald Aldrich said, then rubbed his jaw and gave Garrett a lethal look. “Not that it's any of your business. She's my sister."
“And she's going to be my wife,” Garrett said without preamble.
Donald looked from Garrett to the man standing beside him, then back to the one who'd clipped him with a sound right hook. A trickle of blood was seeping from his split lip. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “She didn't say anything about getting married."
“That doesn't surprise me,” Christopher said with a spark of amusement. “Considering the groom."
“Shut up,” Garrett said over his shoulder. “If you haven't seen Claire, then where is she? She left the house before the sun was over the Bay."
“You're that banker, Monroe,” Donald said, realizing that he had a lot to learn before he'd have an explanation for being greeted with a fist that packed a helluva wallop.
“Garrett Monroe, at your service,” Christopher said. “And I'm Christopher Landauer. A friend of the pugilist, here. We're both concerned about your sister's hasty disappearance."
“Maybe she doesn't like your friend,” Donald retorted. “Can't say that I blame her."
Garrett was on the verge of forgetting his common sense and hitting the man again when a young Chinese woman opened the front door of the house and came inside. She was carrying a basket of fruit and Garrett knew she must be Mae Ling, Donald's mistress. One look at her lover's bruised jaw and bloody mouth and she dropped the basket and rushed to his side.
Garrett waited impatiently while the two people exchanged words in Chinese. Hearing Donald Aldrich speak the language fluently only increased Garrett's convictions that the man made his living smuggling opium for Chen Loo.
“It seems that Claire's brother doesn't know anything more about his sister's disappearance than you do,” Christopher said, interpreting what was being said.
Mae Ling pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped at the blood seeping from Donald's cut lip. Another flurry of Chinese followed the affectionate gesture.
“He's concerned,” Christopher said, keeping up with the conversation.
“He should have been concerned seven years ago,” Garrett said. “Before he walked out on his family."
Donald threw the punch this time, but Garrett was ready for it. He caught the man's fist, twisting his arm behind his back, and pushed him against the wall “You and I are going to have a nice long chat,” Garrett gritted out. “I want to know why you sent Claire away in such a hurry yesterday morning."
Donald mumbled a curse, then relaxed, knowing Garrett had the advantage. “Okay, let me go and we'll talk."
A short time later, Garrett and Claire's brother were glaring at each other, while Christopher conversed in Chinese with Mae Ling. Every few seconds, Donald would look at his petite mistress as if to tell her not to say anything too important.
“Are you sure Claire didn't come here this morning?” Garrett asked sharply.
“I'm sure,” Donald returned just as curtly. “I think it's time you told me a thing or two, Mr. Monroe. Why would Claire run away from your house?"
“I warned her against seeing you again,” Garrett replied honestly. “Unlike your sister, I'm not foolish enough to believe that being her older brother makes you a saint."
Donald flinched at the well-aimed insult, then shrugged his shoulder. “I don't even know how she found me."
“She didn't,” Garrett told him. “I did. Or should I say, a well-paid investigator found you."
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Donald sat down on the faded sofa and told Mae Ling to busy herself elsewhere. The young Chinese vanished behind a silk screen that separated the narrow front room of the house from the rest of the residence.
“Claire said she was being paid to be a companion to your grandmother."
“That's how our original relationship began,” Garrett admitted. “Since then, it's changed. I have every intention of marrying your stubborn sister once I find her."
Donald smiled, then grimaced as his lip reminded him that Garrett was as talented with his fists as he was with money. “I don't remember Claire being stubborn. She was always a sweet little thing."
“Time changes people,” Garrett commented sarcastically. “As well you know, Mr. Aldrich. A few years ago you were a valued employee of the Union Pacific Railroad."
“I still am,” Donald replied. “Of course, no one's supposed to know that. Least of all, Chen Loo."
Christopher arched a blond brow and looked at his friend. “I think we've stumbled upon a mystery."
“There's nothing mysterious about it,” Donald told them. “And I wouldn't be talking at all if I thought either one of you had anything to do with the Chinaman. Regardless of the banker's obvious opinion of me, Claire is my sister, and I love her."
“Why didn't you meet her at the train station when she arrived in San Francisco?” Garrett asked.
“I didn't know she was coming,” her brother replied. “I was moving around, jumping from one odd job to another to make it look like I was desperate for something good to come my way. I never got the letter she sent."
Garrett began putting the pieces of the puzzle together. “The railroad wants you to find out how Chen Loo is smuggling opium."
“That's the long and short of it,” Donald admitted. He gave Garrett a hard look, then shifted his attention to Christopher. “I've been working on this project for over a year. The charges to dismiss me from the railroad were part of the plan. I report to the owners, personally. Which means, I'm up to my elbows in lies and secrets,” he admitted. “That's why I didn't want Claire hanging around yesterday. Chen Loo doesn't trust his own shadow."
“What about the girl?” Garrett asked. “Is she a link to Chen Loo?"
“No. I've known Mae Ling for a long time. Her father worked on the railroad with me. He's the one who taught me to speak Chinese."
“If Claire isn't here, then where the hell is she?” Garrett asked impatiently.
“I don't know,” Donald told him. “Does she have any other friends in the city?"
“No,” Garrett said. “Not anyone she can depend on."
He didn't have the time to explain that Claire couldn't call on the people she'd met
posing as his fiancée without creating questions he was sure she didn't want to answer. And he wasn't able to confess to Claire's brother that his actions demanded a wedding. Garrett turned to Christopher. “Find Hiram for me, then send Andy out to start looking for Claire. Have him try the boardinghouse where Claire was staying before she moved to the Hill. Then have someone check the train station. I want her found."
Christopher was out the door and on his way before Garrett finished giving orders.
“Sounds like you're in love with my sister,” Donald remarked. “Glad to know it. I'd like to see her happy."
“She won't be when I find her,” Garrett predicted. “Get your coat. This is a big city. I need all the help I can get."
* * * *
By six o'clock that evening, no amount of help had located Claire. Garrett returned to his house, dreading what he could and couldn't say to his grandmother. Christopher and Donald were with him. All three men had been combing the city since that morning, asking storekeepers if a young lady had inquired about employment and checking on tickets purchased at the city's train depots. Hiram Wilson and a small band of men were still out searching, aided by Andy Wilkes and several of the hotel's other male employees.
Garrett took off his gloves, mentally cataloging all the things that could happen to a young woman alone in a city the size of San Francisco. He'd been silent most of the day, with the exception of the orders he'd given regarding the search. Sensing his concern, increased by his inability to find Claire, his companions followed him inside.
“She couldn't leave the city without funds,” Garrett said, as he ushered the two men into the library for a much-needed drink. “She hasn't touched the money I deposited in her account. And I doubt that she had more than trolley fare in her pocket."
Claire's brother sampled the expensive whiskey before he sat in a chair and looked at Garrett. “I think it's time you told me more about your relationship with my sister. Like, what in the hell did you do to Claire to make her disappear like gin on Saturday night."
Christopher Landauer laughed. “I think it's time to pay the piper, old friend."
Garrett wasn't amused. The longer Claire was missing, the more worried he got. The thought of her being alone somewhere in the city, with no money and no one to look after her, was ripping his guts apart.
Knowing he didn't have any choice, and convinced that Donald did indeed care about his sister, Garrett confessed the scheme he'd hatched to keep his grandmother content. He omitted making Claire his lover, but the lack of words didn't keep Donald from looking like an avenging angel when he came out of the chair. “You son of a bitch,” he growled. “I ought to..."
“After we've found Claire,” Garrett said, knowing he deserved whatever Donald Aldrich could dish out. “Until then I need your help to keep my grandmother from making herself sick with worry. Can you convince her that Claire is staying at your home. Tell her that you want Claire to spend some time with you before she's handed over to me as my wife. I don't care what you say, just make it convincing."
“I'll try,” Donald said begrudgingly. “But so help me God, Monroe, if you don't make my sister happy, I'm going to bury that expensive hide of yours six feet deep."
Garrett smiled. “I'll make her happy. Claire loves me."
“I'm not so sure,” Donald replied skeptically. He straightened his tie and dusted off his jacket. “Let's get this over with. It's getting dark and I want to find my sister before I lose my temper and make her a widow before she's been a wife."
“Give Grams my respect,” Christopher told Garrett. “I'll be at the hotel if you need me. Until then, try and be patient. No news is good news, or so I've heard."
Garrett wished he could be as optimistic as his friend. Where in the hell had Claire gone? The why he already knew. She was upset because he hadn't trusted her brother and she no doubt thought that he'd proposed marriage out of remorse over taking her virginity. Her refusal last night was proof that he needed to get the words said.
I love you.
He'd said them enough to Grams and they hadn't stuck in his throat, but saying them to Claire was different. He knew Grams loved him in return, she was his grandmother, she was family. Claire ... God, he hoped he was right. She had to love him. If she didn't, Garrett wasn't sure what he'd do.
For years he'd fooled himself into thinking that he had everything a man could possibly want; money, power, prestige. The void of his parents’ death had been filled by Grams, and he'd been content to draw on that love, convinced that it was enough. Garrett lifted the whiskey glass to his mouth and closed his eyes. He had everything, but the woman he wanted. Claire had waltzed into his life with her innocent hazel eyes and her Midwest attitudes and disarmed him as neatly as an army of trained soldiers. Her concern for his grandmother, her devoted looks, that he prayed now weren't pretense but genuine, had broken through his well-constructed shell one day at a time. She'd transformed his elegant life into a yearning to simply come home and see her face across the table, to hear her voice, to watch her as she moved around a room. He'd been bewitched the moment he'd seen her, and he'd fought it tooth and nail, telling himself it was nothing more than a healthy dose of lust. God, he'd been such a fool.
A knock on the library door and Mrs. Smalley's voice interrupted Garrett's bout of self-condemnation. His grandmother was once again waiting in the parlor. He looked at Claire's brother. “She's a grand old lady and I expect a grand performance."
“I'll do my best."
Fortunately, Donald's acting abilities were almost as good as his sister's. He bowed over Theodora's hand and gave her a charming smile. “I'm afraid I'm to blame for your fright, Mrs. Monroe. I wasn't pleased to learn that your grandson had snatched up my sister's heart before I'd had so much as a day of her company. She came to see me yesterday and I suggested that she stay with me for a while, to make sure her feelings for Garrett were strong enough to make the commitment of marriage a real one. She didn't like it, of course,” Donald looked at Garrett. “Neither did your grandson. I told Claire I wanted her in my house bright and early this morning. That's where she is now. Pouting and brooding because I'm still not sure if she should marry the first man who asks her."
“Did my grandson give you that bruise, Mr. Aldrich?” Grams asked, looking at Donald's discolored jaw.
Donald smiled. “No, ma'am. I got into a fight in a saloon. I've got a temper and I don't like it when men cheat at cards."
Garrett moved to the mantel and prayed that Grams would believe one more Aldrich performance. He had to keep her calm until he could find Claire. He had to keep himself calm. Claire wasn't entirely lacking in good sense. Surely, she'd taken refugee in a boardinghouse or a small, inexpensive hotel. Garrett told himself that, but he didn't believe it. She'd gone to Chinatown, he was sure of it.
“Why didn't Claire tell me that you wanted her to stay with you?” Grams asked suspiciously. “It's not as if we're strangers. I've become very fond of your sister, and I'm anxious for her and Garrett to marry."
Donald hesitated and Garrett took over.
“You were right,” Garrett said, stepping onto the proverbial stage. “Claire and I argued last night. She told me that Donald wanted her to stay with him. I insisted that she not leave the house. One thing led to another, and I'm afraid she felt forced to sneak out this morning to keep the argument from beginning anew."
Grams didn't look totally convinced, but she looked relieved that Claire hadn't been misplaced. Little did she know that her grandson had no idea where to look next. Grams turned to give Donald a brief smile. “Tell Claire that a few days away from Garrett might do her good. My grandson does tend to be overbearing at times, but I'm sure she can forgive the fault. They do love each other, Mr. Aldrich, and in spite of your doubts, my grandson will make Claire a wonderful husband."
“I'm beginning to believe that myself,” Donald said. “I'll tell Claire you inquired about her, and don't worry, I won't keep her for long."
“I'd be honored,” Donald said, sounding like a proud older brother. “Good night, Mrs. Monroe."
Garrett breathed a sigh of relief once the interview with his grandmother came to an end. He walked to the settee and sat down. “Don't worry. I'll patch things up with Claire and have her home in a day or two.” He looked at the doorway where Donald had just made his exit. “Her brother is very protective of her. It took me most of the afternoon to convince him to let me see her."
Grams still didn't look totally convinced. “There's more to your disagreement with Claire than you're telling me, young man, but I won't pry any further. For the time-being,” she added. “I do expect to see both Claire and her brother for Sunday dinner. Make sure I'm not disappointed."
“They'll be here,” Garrett said, thankful that he'd delayed one catastrophe so he had time to deal with the other. He kissed his grandmother good night. “I'll be at the hotel. Get some sleep."
Taking his leave, Garrett and Donald were about to join Hiram Wilson to search for Claire when Christopher met them on the front steps of the mansion.
“I thought you were going back to the hotel?"
“I was,” Christopher replied. “But someone left this note in my carriage."
He handed Garrett a piece of white rice paper. Unfolding the note, Garrett stared down at it for a moment, then lifted his eyes to his friend. The lettering was Chinese. “What does it say?"
“That Chen Loo has Claire and he wants fifty thousand dollars for her."
Donald cursed and reached for the note. “Damn that Chinaman,” he said. He read the message. “He's on to me,” Donald said, crushing the note in his clenched fist. “He must have someone watching the house."
“Will he hurt her?” Garrett asked. His blood had turned to ice. He'd never wanted to kill a man before, but he wanted to kill the Chinaman—with his bare hands.
A Gentleman's Bargain Page 24