“Mother of God…” Gabe extended a hand in apology and let it fall again. “Dora—I’m sorry. I should have called first or asked you to come to the station.”
She peered at him and raised an eyebrow. “I’d appreciate you remembering that beforehand in the future. We got lucky this time. The spell is badly degraded from the paper spending so much time in the water. All the lines have run and the ink is smeared, but the energy mined from Supervisor Devin’s death still lingers. I’ve done what I can to shut it away. Once Randy comes home, I can finish the job.”
Jordan sat in a chair near the window, brooding and pensive. “Devin was already dead the day we were all at the church. This is twice I’ve looked this man in the face and thought he was someone else. That’s an uncomfortable feeling.”
Images, pieces of what they knew and what he’d seen, ran through Gabe’s head. He couldn’t find a pattern.
Maybe there wasn’t one. Maybe he’d been looking at this the wrong way.
Gabe retrieved his jacket from the back of an armchair and slipped it on. “I arranged a meeting with Dominic Mullaney at Saint Mary Magdalene. If I don’t leave now, I might miss him, Dee. I’ll call the station before I go and have them send a car to take you home. Have one of the men watching the house wait inside with you until I get home.”
“I can wait with her.” Jordan pushed himself up out of the chair and leaned heavily on his cane. Another pang of guilt hit Gabe. He hadn’t given Jordan’s leg or that the older cop might be in pain a thought. “That is, if Delia doesn’t mind having me underfoot. Mullaney doesn’t know me, and he might think twice about talking with me around.”
Delia smiled. “Of course I don’t mind. Perhaps you could tell me more stories about your grandmother.”
Relief made Gabe smile in turn. They’d take care of each other, and neither would feel smothered or slighted. He kissed Delia’s cheek. “Then it’s settled. Don’t wait supper for me.”
Dora stood and gave him a hug. “Be careful who you trust, Gabe Ryan. Be very careful.”
She wasn’t talking about Jordan, he was certain of that, nor Sam and Jack, or Randy. That left most of San Francisco to watch with a wary eye. He couldn’t think about that right now.
He thought of patterns instead.
* * *
Four nights a week, Father Colm stood in the front of the church and handed out baskets of groceries to the wives of men who’d lost their jobs over wanting to join the union. He believed in the phrase “bread or revolution” as deeply as Mullaney or any of the union men, but his belief ran toward handing out bread to stave off the need for violent revolution. Even so, he wasn’t above strong-arming rich parishioners and business owners for donations. No one in his flock went hungry for long if Father Colm could help it.
Twice a month, the priest hosted parish dinners for anyone who wanted to come eat, sitting entire families down at big tables in the church hall and serving them stew and fresh bread. Husbands and grandfathers came to eat with their families on those nights. The social air of the evening and the open invitation for the whole congregation soothed their pride.
He’d forgotten that a dinner was being held this evening. The hall was filling with people when Gabe arrived, making it less likely his arrival would attract notice. Women and men stood in knots exchanging news and gossip, while excited children dashed around and somehow avoided being underfoot at the wrong moment. Father Colm spotted Gabe right away, nodding toward the back.
Gabe found Dominic in the church kitchen, ladling boiling hot stew into bowls. The union leader glanced up but kept working. “There’s an apron on a hook over by the stove, Ryan. Lend a hand, and no one will think twice about the two of us talking.”
He traded his overcoat and jacket for the apron, adjusting the patched white canvas around his waist until most of his pistol and holster were covered. Even inside the church, Gabe didn’t feel easy about going unarmed.
Mullaney eyed the gun. “Things must be bad for you to wear that where Father Colm can see. Tell me what’s so important, we need to meet in secret.”
Gabe arranged more bowls on empty metal trays, getting them ready for Dominic to fill. “I need information about your friend Aleksei and his trip to New York a few months ago. And I thought it best to make sure he wasn’t hanging over your shoulder while we talked. This is important or I wouldn’t involve you.”
“Alek has his own life, Captain.” A wheeled serving cart with three shelves sat next to Mullaney. He put the full tray on the bottom shelf and began filling another tray’s worth of bowls. “He keeps lots of secrets, but that’s his right. There’s no guarantee I know the answers to what you’re asking.”
He shrugged. “Maybe not. But hear me out first.”
Telling Mullaney everything was risky, but Gabe didn’t see another way to convince the young union leader to trust him. He started with the murders and disappearances in Chicago’s Russian neighborhoods, how the rumors and whispers among immigrants of the Bolsheviks hunting down anyone with royal blood were true, and how the pattern was being repeated in San Francisco. Gabe didn’t hold anything back when it came to detailing how Eve and Jaret Rigaux were killed.
He didn’t come right out and say Aleksei was at risk, but he didn’t have to. Dominic understood.
Mullaney leaned heavily against the worktable, shaking his head and swearing softly. “Damn it, damn it! I told Alek to go to the police. I warned him not to try and handle this alone.”
Gabe kept stacking chipped pottery and dented metal bowls on trays, holding tight to the anger trying to surface. “Nureyev knew about the killings?”
“Not at first.” Dominic gave Gabe a considering look and went back to ladling stew. “He heard the same rumors as the rest of the men, but no one could say if they were true or just talk. I don’t think Alek wanted to believe any of the stories, not at first. His son was here, and that boy is all he has left. If someone came looking for Alek and meant to kill him, they’d kill the boy too. He couldn’t stand thinking about that.”
He understood Aleksei’s need to protect his son, but that’s where his sympathy ended. People had died because Alek hadn’t come forward or told what he knew. “When did Nureyev find out the stories were true?”
“Just before his trip to New York.”
Father Colm picked that moment to push open the swinging door and step inside. The priest eyed Gabe’s gun and frowned, but didn’t comment on his being armed. “I’m glad to see the two of you can talk and work at the same time. The children are hungry, and there’s no keeping them still about it. I’ll take the full trays out on the cart. The two of you finish up, if you would. You’re welcome to stay and eat too, Gabe.”
He smiled. “Thank you, Father, but Delia’s waiting for me. Another time.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Gabriel.” Father Colm backed out the door, pulling the serving cart with him. “Bring your wife when you come.”
Dominic glanced at Gabe, his sheepish smile making him look younger. “He came to check up on us, you know. I think he was afraid we’d come to blows if left on our own too long.”
“I’m not surprised.” Gabe found the last of the trays and laid them out on the worktable. “If Aleksei discovered the stories of people dying were true, why did he go to New York?”
“Alek was already set to help start up a union out there. He took his son and the girl who looks after the boy with him. Alek sent them into hiding, but he won’t say where.” Dominic scraped the last of the stew out of the kettle, filling the last bowl. “A day or two before Aleksei came back from New York, an old man came looking for him at the union hall. The old man said to tell Aleksei that Josef had tracked them to San Francisco.”
Gabe wiped his hands on the apron, his mind racing. He knew, he knew, the old man was Alina’s uncle Fyodor. And now he knew the killer’s name. “Did he say anything else, or leave any other message for Alek?”
Dominic frowned. “No, nothing. He wouldn’t
leave his name or tell me where Alek could find him. The old man said Aleksei would know. I told Alek as soon as he came back, but he didn’t act as if the message meant much to him.”
“You’ve been a big help, Dominic.” Gabe hung the apron back on the hook and put on his jacket. What Mullaney knew put him in danger, and he felt honor bound to warn him. “I don’t want you telling anyone else about this or talking to Aleksei. Let me talk to Nureyev first. Do you know where I can find him tonight?”
Mullaney hefted the empty kettle into the sink. “He might have locked himself in the house again, but that’s only a guess. I haven’t seen Alek in two days, Captain.”
Gabe wouldn’t let himself think the killer was a step ahead again, that the chance to find out who this man named Josef was, what he looked like, and where he might hide, had slipped away. He couldn’t.
“Get a message to me when Nureyev shows up again.” Gabe started to leave and turned back. “Be careful, Dominic. If this killer decides you’re in the way, it won’t matter that you’re Irish and not Russian.”
“You do the same, Captain Ryan.” Dominic scrubbed at burned-on stew and didn’t look up. “I don’t want the banshees wailing your death any more than I want them keening for mine.”
That made him smile. Gabe hurried away, knowing he’d have to go back to the station before going home. The list of things to check on reeled through his head, one remembered detail sparking ten more. Calling Delia and letting her know he’d be late, and then calling Dora, were at the top of that list.
He stopped at the donations box just inside the front door, looking back across the hall. All around the room, people chatted over their dinners, eating their fill. Children smiled and laughed as Father Colm went from table to table, handing out cookies.
Gabe counted the bills in his wallet, pulling out half and stuffing the money into the box. He left, more convinced than ever that Father Colm had the right idea.
CHAPTER 17
Delia
Gabe and I talked until well after midnight once he got home, going over everything Dominic Mullaney had told him about Aleksei Nureyev. I’d agreed that the man Alina knew as her uncle Fyodor had to be the older man who’d gone to the union hall. Why he and his wife hadn’t taken Alina and run was a question neither of us could answer.
The three princess ghosts watched from the kitchen window while we talked, their images distinct against the night-dark sky. Faceless ghosts still filled the glass around them, but they were harder to see. I tried not to look at the princesses too often, unable to bear the pleading look in their eyes. I wanted to save their sister as much as they did.
Falling asleep was difficult, but the combination of Mai’s soft purring and Gabe’s warmth next to me finally allowed me to drift off. If I dreamed of Alina’s life, I didn’t remember.
I woke the next morning as the parlor clock chimed half past nine. Mai crouched on my pillow, but she was relaxed and sleeping. How hushed and still the house felt was a sure sign Gabe had already gone to work. He’d warned me about leaving early the night before, but I still wished I’d been able to say good-bye.
All houses groan and settle, timbers creaking as they warmed in the sunlight or cooled again at nightfall. I almost never noticed the noises our house made, but today every tiny sound made me jump. Mai stayed close as I dressed, and I watched her for any sign that things weren’t as they should be. By the time I’d finished my second cup of tea, I’d come to the conclusion that the constant need to look over my shoulder was edging toward irrational.
As long as the cat was relaxed, I should be as well. Knowing that to be true was easier than putting it into practice, but I was determined to try. I fetched more tea and settled down in the sitting room with a book Sadie had lent me. Written by a young novelist named Sinclair Lewis, The Job was about a young woman holding down a position normally reserved for men, and doing that job very well indeed. I found the story of Una Golden’s life fascinating, and I could well see Sadie or myself in her place. It didn’t take long before I forgot my case of nerves.
The front doorbell chimed. Mai’s ear twitched, but she didn’t so much as open an eye or move from her spot on the sofa cushion. Gabe’s men knew not to walk in unannounced, and I fully expected to see one of his men when I opened the door.
Dora’s bright smile greeted me instead. Her hair was a bit mussed from wearing her plaid driving cap, but otherwise her green silk suit and white batiste blouse looked impeccable and stylish as always. That the cap was totally out of place with her outfit didn’t matter in the slightest to Isadora.
Her smile grew wider at seeing me. She viewed my clothing with a critical eye. “I’m glad to see you’re already dressed to go out. That will save time. Get your coat and your bag, Dee.”
“Good morning, Dora. How are you today? Sleep well? Perhaps you’d like to come in.” I waved her inside, succumbing to the urge to shut the door and close out the outside world. The thought of hiding in my book all day possessed a great deal of appeal. “Most people indulge in at least minor social niceties before announcing they’re whisking you away for impromptu journeys. Not that I ever mind going places with you, but perhaps you could tell me where we’re going. Knowing why would be appreciated as well.”
She raised an eyebrow, her expression making it clear she was torn between laughing and being annoyed. “My, my, you are touchy today. We’re going to see Sadie. Any particular reason for the foul mood?”
“I can’t point to any one thing as the cause. Too many terrible dreams, too many unanswered questions.” I waved it all away and took my coat off the hall tree. “I woke up on edge, but I’m sure it will pass. So tell me, why are we going to Sadie’s?”
Dora beamed at me, well pleased with herself. “I found a more effective protection charm for Connor. This one should last longer and work reasonably well even when he’s away from home. I thought you’d like to be there when I give the charm to Sadie. We can attune it to Connor together if you like.”
“Oh yes, I’d like that a great deal. Let me get my bag.” Tears filled my eyes. Having stronger protections in place for Connor would be a huge relief. “I thought we’d found everything there was to find.”
“So did I, Dee.” She waited patiently as I locked up the house. Dora slipped an arm through mine for the walk to the car. “But there was a note in one of the chapters I’d marked for references to necromancy. I’d never have looked in that volume otherwise. The rest of the incidents recorded in that chapter were totally unrelated to Connor’s problem.”
Luck wasn’t anything I wanted to rely on at any time, but I’d take whatever bits of fortune that wandered by. I held tight to the door handle as Dora shot away from the curb and waved gaily to Gabe’s men. They looked amused, but then again, they weren’t riding with her.
Isadora picked up speed at a rate that was alarming even for her. I cleared my throat, hoping that conversation would distract me from the threat of disaster. “Is Sam staying with Alina?”
“No, Libby came by to visit early this morning. Sam is supposed to collect Jordan at Katie’s and then swing by for Jack.” Dora barely paused at the corner before turning. “Libby volunteered to stay and play cards with Alina until I come home. Inside my protections and with Gabe’s men standing watch outside, I felt it was safe enough, so I agreed. Sam and Randy are both working, and I hate leaving Alina alone. Libby’s visit turned out to be the perfect solution.”
Neither of us said it aloud, but we both knew that Libby’s visits were made in hopes of seeing Sam. She’d stayed away at first, and I’d wondered if we’d ever see Libby Mills again. That had changed over the last week or so. She was unfailingly friendly and kind, and spent long hours with Alina, but I knew what that cost her. Libby couldn’t quite keep the heartache out of her eyes when Sam was around.
Dora came near to stopping my heart another time or two, but we arrived at Sadie’s in one piece. Stella sat at one end of the front porch as we started up the w
alk, all her china dolls and stuffed toys arranged in a circle. She loved throwing elaborate tea parties for her dolls and making up stories about the other guests.
Sadie had insisted that Jack’s stepmother, Katherine, allow Stella to accompany her to small garden parties. Given Katherine’s dislike of being a grandmother, that Sadie had won the concession was a victory for her. I suspected Stella’s skill at mimicking gossip meant she’d spent a great deal of time listening in to adult conversations at Katherine Fitzgerald’s parties.
She saw us coming up the walk. Stella abandoned her dolls and came running. “Aunt Dora! Aunt Delia!”
Isadora opened her arms wide and caught the little girl as she reached us, sweeping Stella off her feet and hugging her tight. “Good morning, poppet. How are you?”
“I didn’t know you were coming today. Do you have time for a tea party with me and Annabelle?” Stella wrapped her arms around Dora’s neck. Annabelle was her favorite, and the curly-haired china doll went almost everywhere with her. “I know you don’t like sitting on the ground. But I can move everything inside.”
Dora glanced at me, checking to see that I agreed. “Dee and I need to talk to your mama first, but afterwards we can have a tea party. Do you know where your mother and father are right now?”
“Papa’s getting ready for work. Mama’s upstairs in Connor’s room.” Stella wiggled out of Dora’s arms. She tromped up the front steps and across the porch, gathering Annabelle into her arms. “Mama said he’s too big for his clothes. She’s packing the little ones in boxes.”
Saving them for another child. I fought back the unexpected pang of envy. Sadie would likely have more children in time, brothers or sisters to join Connor and Stella. I’d made my peace with knowing that I’d never have children of my own, telling myself over and over that loving Sadie’s children was enough. The pain still rose up at times, knife edged and unwanted.
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