“Agreed. That’s a brutal way to commit suicide. Sit still another minute.” Sam stuffed his ruined hat into the dustbin on the curb and came around to open the door. He got Gabe to his feet. “You’re going to need some help with this one, at least until Jack’s back up to snuff. I’d like to volunteer.”
“You know I can’t let you work a murder case.” Those were his father’s words, and the firm ideas he had about what a good cop would do. But the world had changed since Captain Matt Ryan’s day. His dad never had to deal with the kind of cases Gabe did. He gave Butler a sidelong glance. “Not officially. But the department always welcomes information from a concerned citizen.”
“I like the way you think, Ryan. That’s all I am, a concerned citizen. Finding out why those men were shooting at Alina is the number one thing I’m concerned about.” Sam held the door open so Gabe could hobble through. “First we’ll check on Jack and get you looked at. Then I can hit the street. You take the night off.”
“This could be dangerous, Sam. Whoever is behind what happened today means business.”
“I’ve been in dangerous spots before. This wouldn’t be the first time.” Butler shrugged and shifted his hold to take more of Gabe’s weight. “No one should watch their parents be shot down that way and not know why. She deserves to know why. I’d like to give her that if I can.”
Gabe concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and stopped attempting to talk Sam out of trying to find answers for Alina. She did deserve that much and more.
Maybe between the two of them they could find her a little peace as well.
CHAPTER 5
Delia
The click of Isadora’s heels on the entryway tile summoned Stella from hiding as effectively as any charm. She ran out of the sitting room as quickly as she could, meeting us before we’d gotten too far from the base of the stairs. Stella flung her arms around Dora’s legs, hanging on tight and words pouring out in a rush. “Aunt Dora, Aunt Dora! Are you staying for supper? Annie said that Libby could stay. She knows how to make paper dolls just like Mama.”
“Hello, poppet. I’m glad you and Libby are having fun.” Dora scooped the little girl up, smiling broadly. “I’ll talk with Annie and ask if it’s all right that I stay for supper too. I don’t want to put her to extra work.”
Isadora Bobet and three-year-old Stella Fitzgerald were fast friends, something I’d never have credited when Stella was a baby. Dora appeared to have infinite patience with her, holding long conversations on a wide range of subjects or discussing picture books at great length. Given that Dora looked upon most small children as creatures to be avoided at all cost, watching her friendship with Stella grow was both amusing and touching.
“Mama’s not home. She took Papa to see the doctor. He got hurt when the bad men were shooting guns.” Stella solemnly told Dora all about her father lying on the hotel sofa and how scared she’d been when Jack didn’t talk to her. Listening twisted my stomach. Young as she was, Stella understood much more than I’d thought. “But Annie says Papa will be all right and I don’t need to worry. You shouldn’t worry either, Aunt Dora. God’s taking care of Papa and will make him well. Then he can come home again.”
Dora’s eyes met mine over the top of Stella’s head. Those were Annie’s words, Annie’s heartfelt beliefs. Hearing Stella repeat those same thoughts to keep Dora from worrying about Jack was an odd, uncomfortable feeling. She was only a child and believed the people she loved—believed Annie—knew everything.
“I shan’t worry, then. Everything will be fine.” Dora hugged the little girl tight and set her on the ground. “Now, run along and find Annie. Delia is going to introduce me to your new friend Libby and to Alina. We’re going to talk about boring grown-up things and I promise it won’t be any fun at all. But if you ask nicely, Annie will let you help with supper. Go on now. I’ll find you later.”
“All right. I’m going.” Stella sighed, her expression every bit as dramatic as I’d expect from Sadie’s daughter. “I almost forgot. Annie said we should be extra nice to Alina. Her heart is broken.”
“I will do my very best, poppet.” Dora smoothed curls back from Stella’s face. “Promise.”
A promise was all she needed. Stella dashed through the dining room and shoved open the door into the kitchen.
Dora watched her go, mouth pulled into a tight, thin line. “I don’t like lying to her about Jack, even if she won’t be four for months yet. Children are better served by the truth, even uncomfortable and frightening truth. If anything bad happens to Jack, she’ll remember I said everything would be all right and blame me. I can’t stand the thought that Stella might end up hating me.”
“She’d never hate you. She adores you.” If I said the words to Dora with enough conviction, maybe I’d banish my own fears about damaging my friendship with Sadie. “And Jack will be home soon, that’s not a lie. He’s a strong man and Dr. Jodes will take excellent care of him.”
Dora waved her hand in dismissal, the lines around her eyes pulling tighter. “Yes, yes, that’s all well and good. But knowing the probable outcome doesn’t make me feel any easier. This entire day has been unsettling. Let’s go in and get these introductions over with.”
Libby sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the low table between sofas, her skirts spread around her. Annie’s sewing shears, scraps of fabric and lace, a pot of glue, and small figures cut from heavy paper littered the top of the table, evidence for Stella’s claim of manufacturing paper dolls. Soft, dark waves hung around Libby’s face, making her appear ridiculously young and not far past the age of playing with paper dolls herself.
She looked up at our entrance. Libby’s eyes showed how tired she was after our adventures, but she did her best to be pleasant. “Hello, you must be Miss Bobet. Sam’s told me all about you. I’m Libby Mills.”
Dora put on her most dazzling smile and stuck her ungloved hand out. She rarely touched strangers, another surprise in a day where I’d given off counting. I saw a small wince as she shook Libby’s hand, but only because I was watching for a reaction. Libby didn’t notice. “Assume anything Sam says about me is a lie, Libby. Please, call me Dora.”
“Pleased to meet you, Dora.” She craned her neck to look past me and into the entryway. “Where did Stella go? She asked me to make a princess doll.”
“Stella’s helping Annie with supper. That will give us a chance to talk about what happened today.” Dora’s eyes darted to the small, quiet figure huddled in a corner of the larger settee. Alina was wrapped in one of Annie’s hand-stitched quilts, her knees drawn up to make herself smaller and face turned toward the back cushion. She was the picture of utter misery. “Delia told me all about the strange creatures and phantoms the union men claim to have seen. That and the behavior of the crowd concern me a great deal. Did you see anything out of the ordinary, Libby?”
“No ghosts or ghoulies, or other such rot. No offense intended, Dora. Sam did tell me what you do.” Libby’s mouth screwed up in distaste. “But I’m not a believer in spiritualism or any of the occult nonsense so popular these days. Although I suppose mothers abandoning babies in their prams and total strangers starting fights with each other qualifies as out of the ordinary. I keep trying to think of a logical reason for that kind of behavior.”
“No offense taken. Most people have to come face-to-face with the unexplainable before they believe such things exist.” Dora’s smile was tight and brittle, but she did smile. I took that as a hopeful sign. “But what you consider a logical reason for how people behaved today may not exist. What you think of as occult nonsense may indeed be involved. People don’t change their normal behavior quite so drastically unless an outside influence is at work. Try to keep an open mind.”
Libby gave her a dubious look, but didn’t say more. Dora settled herself in the center of the settee, near enough she could reach out and touch Alina if she chose. She folded her arms and crossed her legs, one foot bouncing rapidly in an odd,
jerky rhythm. Dora studied Alina, eyes narrowed. She sought to see below the surface world and into the spirit realm, but I’d no idea what she looked for.
I leaned against the doorframe and studied Alina as well, shifting the way I looked at her. Her aura was muddied, the colors muted to a dull, flat brown. Once those colors had been bright golden yellows and soft reds, and I still saw flashes of her old life mixed in. Grief might have that effect, but not that strongly. My instincts all said there was more wrong with Alina than could be accounted for by witnessing the death of her parents.
The bouncing of Dora’s foot came to a sudden halt. She scowled and glanced at me, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t deem it wise to speak. Instinct became belief. Isadora and I saw spiritual energy differently, at varying levels and depths. What I saw as a muddied aura might be much more to her. I wasn’t at all surprised that she’d seen something I’d missed.
Dora extended a hand toward the girl, but carefully avoided touching her, a marked contrast from how she’d greeted Libby. “Hello, I’m Isadora. You told our friend Sam your name is Alina. That’s really a lovely name and not one I’ve heard in a very long time. Has it always been yours or did you have another? Do you remember?”
Alina squeezed her eyes shut and slid farther under the quilt. She didn’t answer nor look in Dora’s direction, but instead curled into a tight ball. If wishing herself invisible were possible, I felt sure she’d have done so.
I’d lingered near the doorway, but now I moved to stand near the settee. The air in the room was heavier, thicker, a barrier thrown up between me and Alina. I couldn’t say what stirred, but Dora had roused something with her questions.
Libby looked between me and Isadora, puzzled, but she didn’t let being baffled stop her from speaking up. “Alina’s had a terrible, tragic day, Dora. Her parents were shot right in front of her and if not for Sam, she’d have died too. Perhaps we should leave off asking questions until later.”
Dora was completely focused on the girl, coiled tight as my cat Mai waiting to leap on an unwary grasshopper. She never looked away from Alina. “Normally I’d agree. But I’m afraid that waiting too long may cause her to forget more than she has. Learning her real name would be a huge stride in the right direction. Dramatic as it sounds, remembering what she knows and who she is could help save her life.”
“Are you joking?” Libby’s face flushed with anger, stripping away the impression of youth. “Those men on the roof were either madmen or anarchists, likely both. And they’re dead, Dora, blown to bits. Those men can’t hurt her, not ever again.”
“Are you absolutely sure of that, enough so to risk her life? Because I’m not. Her aura is suppressed in a way that appears quite deliberate, and so is her memory. I can’t begin to imagine what the long-term consequences of that might be. Nor can I understand why someone thought it necessary.” Dora lifted an eyebrow, looking at Libby with a calm, almost deadpan expression that was at odds with the snap in her voice. “I know you have the best of intentions. What you don’t have is knowledge of the spirit world or experience dealing with murderers. Unfortunately, I have both. Please stay out of this.”
“Stay out of what?” Libby braced her hands on the edge of the table. The color in her cheeks burned brighter and her jaw set in stubborn lines. “An attempt to convince this poor girl that the nonsense you’re spouting is the truth? She’s been through enough and doesn’t need your mumbo jumbo confusing her. Leave her alone.”
“Mumbo jumbo?” Dora’s calm expression stayed in place, but the rhythmic bobbing of her foot began again, a sure sign she’d reached the end of her patience. “My, my … now that the insults are out of the way, perhaps I can get back to helping Alina.”
I’d wanted Libby and Isadora to be friends, but the conversation had taken a nasty turn. That I knew Dora was right made it all worse. The thick, expectant feel in the air was stronger, the pressure more noticeable. Two men had died on that roof, but death was no guarantee the people after Alina would stop pursuing her.
“Please … don’t argue. I can’t remember being anyone else.” Alina peered out of the cave she’d built of sofa cushions and quilts, eyes brimming with tears. Her soft voice held the remnants of an accent—an accent I couldn’t place—but likely Dora would know. “Aunt Mina and Uncle Fyodor always called me Alina. That must be my name.”
I traded looks with Isadora. The barest of smiles was all Dora gave me, but it was enough. She’d known somehow.
Some of the heaviness left the air and moving toward Alina grew easier. I knelt next to her and took her hand. Her skin was soft, unmarked. “The older man and woman with you … those weren’t your parents?”
She angrily wiped away tears on a sleeve. “No, my aunt and uncle. They took care of me, protected me.”
A flicker of movement caught my eye. The princess ghost shimmered into view on the glass door of a curio cabinet near the fireplace. I glanced around the room, finding her face looking back at me from picture frames, silver candlesticks, and a crystal candy dish. She wasn’t watching me this time. Alina commanded all of the princess’s attention.
Libby scowled and gave me a handkerchief from her pocket. I handed the plain square of cotton to Alina. “Who were your aunt and uncle protecting you from?”
“They never told me.” Alina wiped her eyes and sniffled. “Aunt Mina said I didn’t need to know and wasn’t to worry, they would keep me safe. America was a big place and no one would find us here.”
Dora twisted in her seat so that she sat facing Alina. Compassion and sympathy were all she let show, but her fingers dug deep into the seat cushions. “Do you remember your parents at all? Or where you lived before you came to San Francisco?”
Alina leaned forward, balling the handkerchief in her fist and rocking slightly. “Sometimes I dream of Mama reading poetry, or of playing with Papa in the snow. But I never see their faces or remember their names. Uncle Fyodor said I was very young when they died and that it was natural I’d forgotten.”
“And your aunt and uncle never told you who your mother and father were?”
“No.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Aunt Mina said it was safer if I didn’t know.”
Isadora moved the quilt away, uncovering Alina’s face. She stared, searching for something familiar, something she recognized in Alina’s features and bright blue eyes. Dora’s expression was unreadable to those who didn’t know her, emotions tucked away and hidden. But I did know her, and far too well to be fooled. She saw something that troubled her a great deal.
Dora’s gaze shifted, moving to a spot behind Alina’s shoulder. I’d no idea what she watched so intently, not at first, so I moved to where I could see as well.
The princess ghost looked back at me, calm and serene. Just how much Alina resembled this strange ghost was startling. Alina was a little younger, her features softer, but they had the same blue eyes and thick chestnut hair, the same slant to their chin. Imagining the two of them were related somehow would be an easy trap to fall into.
Resemblance didn’t equal kinship, a fact I reminded myself of firmly. This ghost was made of memories, memories that didn’t belong to me or to Dora, and undoubtedly not to a girl with no memory at all of who she was, of her family or where she’d spent her life. Looking somewhat alike didn’t change any of those things.
And ghosts had been known to alter their appearance in order to gain what they wanted from the living. Dora had been taught that a mirror ghost was a moment frozen in time, unchanging, but the princess had already behaved in unexpected ways. How she manifested and the face she showed could be a trick. I’d be foolish to forget that.
Dora glanced at the ghost. She’d come to the same conclusion, but she still braved the depths of Alina’s grief and took the young woman’s hand. “Forgive me, but I disagree with your aunt and uncle. I’m not entirely sure how it was done, but someone made you forget deliberately. You’re far safer with your memory whole, Alina, and with kn
owing why people are set on harming you. Dealing with your enemies is much easier if you know who they are.”
Libby cleared her throat. “There’s no delicate way to say this, Alina. I don’t agree with everything Dora’s said or her methods, but she’s right about one thing: Not allowing you to know the names of your own parents is very odd. Are you sure your aunt and uncle told you the truth?”
The question was indelicate and bordered on being outright rude, but I understood why Libby asked. She needed a reason for everything that had happened to Alina, a reason not grounded in mysterious enemies or someone stealing Alina’s memories by arcane methods. Libby Mills was convinced she knew how the world worked. Shaking her faith in that belief would take a lot more than Dora’s word.
If nothing else, the question woke Alina from her shocked haze. She glared at Libby, clearly angry. “Why would they lie?”
“Frankly, to control you.” Libby folded her hands on the table, looking for all the world like a rumpled schoolteacher preparing to give a lecture. Dora rolled her eyes at me, but she’d let Libby have her say. “You’re very young. Keeping you afraid ensured that you’d be obedient and not question their decisions. It’s not unheard of, especially if they had something to gain.”
Alina’s chin came up defiantly, her voice growing rough with emotion. “No, you’re wrong. You didn’t know them. They gave up everything for me, and you make them sound like thieves.”
“That’s quite enough, Libby.” Dora squeezed Alina’s hand, but didn’t let go. “That someone was willing to go to such lengths to drive Mina and Fyodor out of hiding should be proof enough they told Alina the truth. Unfortunately, their secrets died with them, and finding answers will be that much harder. But first things first. Alina needs a safe place to stay while we sort this mess out. The rooms she shared with her aunt and uncle will be watched. She can’t go back there.”
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