A Barricade in Hell

by Jaime Lee Moyer

  “What do you have in mind?”

  Dora carried the basin of dirty water to the sink and rinsed it under the tap. “I want to try a tarot reading for both you and Gabe to discover why this spirit is so focused on your husband. The spread that comes up for Gabe will be of special interest. I’m hoping to find a hint as to who this ghost was in life.”

  “And that in turn will give you an idea of what she is now.” I brushed the damp tea towel over the front of my blouse and down my skirts, attempting to remove the worst of the glass slivers that clung to my clothing. “Why include Randy?”

  “Because having him there will make me feel better about your safety. There’s always a chance this tarot reading could stir our puzzling ghost into action again.” She leaned back against the sink, staring at the kitchen door as if she expected it to fly off the hinges at any moment. “This spirit relented because Randy came into the room and siphoned off the psychic energy. Otherwise, I’m sure she would have been quite content to pummel you for much longer. I don’t want to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t been here.”

  I stared at the cuts on my hands and the blood splattered on my dress. “You actually believe Randy stopped her from killing me.”

  Dora sighed. “Yes, Delia, that’s exactly what I think. He saved your life. I won’t be leaving tonight until I’ve taken steps to keep her from entering your house or attacking you again. Wards and charms haven’t held this ghost at bay, but salt should do the trick.”

  “Salt?” I stared at her openmouthed, unsure if I should laugh or cry. “You could have told me before now. I’ve been at my wit’s end. Knowing I could send this spirit packing with a saltcellar would have been a huge help.”

  Dora did laugh. “It will take considerably more than a saltcellar to shut her out, but we’ll manage. I’ll send Jack to call on a grocer I know over on Polk Street. Two or three fifty-pound bags should be enough.” She held out a hand. “Let’s get you out of those clothes. Gabe will bring the doctor soon. Better he doesn’t see you like this.”

  “Very wise.” I stood, grateful for her hand as the room spun for an instant and then righted itself. “I’d hate for Gabe to get the idea that dealing with ghosts might be dangerous at times. That would never do.”

  “It’s too late for that, Dee.” She smiled and put an arm around my waist. “I’m fairly certain he already knows.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Gabe

  Gabe switched off the desk lamp and slumped back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. He couldn’t focus on the reports littering his desk. The image of shattered glass on the parlor floor, broken furniture, and dusky bruises on Delia’s arms and back overlaid the words each time he tried.

  He’d spent many a strange night on foot patrol or working cases, but nothing so outlandish as what he’d done last night. Two hundred pounds of brining salt ringed the foundation of their house, sealed the thresholds and casements. He and Jack had spread the salt according to Dora’s instructions while she followed behind, muttering charms to make the barrier tight.

  Remembering the relief on Delia’s face when they’d finished roiled his stomach. That she believed this ghost meant to kill her made him believe too. He’d kept an arm around her all night, starting awake at the smallest sound.

  Gabe didn’t know how he’d protect her from a vengeful ghost, just that he’d do anything to keep her safe. He wouldn’t lose Delia that way. He couldn’t.

  A cursory rap on the door was all the warning Jack gave before waltzing in, arms full of more report folders. The neat creases in his trousers and freshly starched collar were Annie’s daily contributions to making him look the part of a police lieutenant. Not even Annie could disguise that his partner looked as worn and harried as Gabe felt.

  Jack dumped the folders on the existing pile. “You look like hell, Captain Ryan.”

  “So do you.” He covered his mouth, attempting to stifle another yawn. “It was a rough night. I kept waiting for the monster to crawl out from under the bed. Any progress?”

  “Depends on what you mean by progress.” Jack dragged the visitor’s chair to the side of the desk and sat. He riffled through the folders, finally pulling one up to the top and handing Gabe the paper inside. “At least ten, maybe fourteen people went off with Effie Fontaine’s men and never came back. All but the two young women on that list signed on for a night’s work. Leanne Schaffer and Greta Taub told the boardinghouse landlady Mrs. Jacobs that they were going to attend one of Fontaine’s lectures. That evening was the last time she saw them.”

  Gabe scanned down the list, noting names and ages. Looking for a pattern. “Their landlady didn’t report them missing?”

  “Mrs. Jacobs saw a well-dressed man help Leanne and Greta into a car and drive off. Henderson said she went on at length about there being only one reason for them to drive off with a man.” Jack made a sour face. “She apparently didn’t think much of the girls’ virtue. Rent was due by the end of the week. Leanne and Greta still hadn’t shown up by then, so Mrs. Jacobs boxed up their things and rented the room to a new boarder. Neither girl has any family that the landlady knows of.”

  He looked the list over one last time. Names alone didn’t tell him much, but he could guess. They were all alone in the world, people no one would miss or wonder where they’d gone. Unlike Thad Harper, they had no one counting on them to come home again.

  “We can connect ten of these names to Fontaine for sure.” Gabe rocked back in his chair, fingers steepled on his chest. “What about the other four?”

  Jack frowned and tugged another piece of paper out of the pile. “All of them were part of a work crew hired by Fontaine’s men sometime in the last two or three months. They vanished later, not the same day. That makes connecting their disappearance to her harder.”

  “But not impossible.”

  None of what they knew made any sense, and each time Gabe tried to think of a possible motive, or what Effie Fontaine had to gain, he came up short. All he was certain of was that the scattered facts and bits of evidence disturbed him in a way he couldn’t explain. And Gabe dearly wanted an explanation for all of it. He tossed the list of names on the desk and stood. “I think it’s time for us to pay Miss Fontaine a visit. People who cross her path have a bad habit of disappearing. I want to hear her tell me why.”

  Jack stayed where he was, arms folded over his chest, and stared out the window behind Gabe’s desk. The window was set high in the wall, giving little more than a view of the sky and the rooftops of buildings across the street. A brisk wind blew thin white clouds across that small, visible patch of sky, a gauzy veil rippling over the deeper blue. Gabe waited for his partner to speak, dead certain Jack wasn’t cloud gazing. The wait wasn’t long.

  “Sorry.” Jack sighed and scrubbed hands over his face. “I can’t help thinking about Amanda. Her name should be on this list too.”

  Gabe cast about for the kindest way to say Amanda was dead, that she’d been gone too long to hold out hope. But he didn’t need to say the words.

  His partner was a good cop. Jack already knew. “If she was able, Mandy would have come home by now. Archie didn’t kill her, something happened after Fontaine’s lecture. All the people on that list are dead. I don’t know how, but Effie Fontaine is in this up to her neck.”

  “You’re not going to get an argument from me, Lieutenant. I think you’re right.” Gabe locked the report folders in his bottom drawer, checking twice to make sure nothing had been forgotten. “But right now it’s only a wild guess, a theory. We need proof and a solid connection to Effie Fontaine or the people around her. The only way to find out what happened to Amanda is to keep looking for evidence. We will find it.”

  Jack stood and cleared his throat. “I’m game. Even if Amanda is dead—knowing for sure one way or the other will be better for Sadie. This is tearing her up, Gabe.”

  “Then let’s start finding proof. Maybe we can uncover a motive while we’re digging.” He clapped h
is partner on the shoulder. “Get your overcoat. I’ll have the desk sergeant arrange for a car.”

  Gabe grabbed his coat and hat. He yanked open the office door to find Patrolman Rockwell outside, arm poised to knock.

  “Captain Ryan, I’m glad I caught you.” Lon Rockwell’s face was blotched and sweaty, and he fidgeted with his collar. Gabe was startled to see Rockwell so rattled and drew back a step, on guard. The tall, beefy patrolman was normally calm in the face of almost anything. “You have a visitor, sir. She insisted on being escorted to your office. I hope you don’t mind.”

  The woman in the hallway didn’t wait for an introduction or an invitation. She swept around Rockwell and into Gabe’s office, two men in well-tailored black suits a step behind. Bodyguards. The show of force ratcheted his sense of caution up another notch.

  He recognized Effie Ladia Fontaine from her photograph. She wasn’t more than an inch or two over five feet tall, and Gabe doubted if her head reached any higher than Delia’s shoulder. Compact and square shouldered, hints of gray showed at her temples, Miss Fontaine wasn’t at all what he’d expected from a woman delivering pacifist lectures in church halls.

  Part of that was the fashionable dark green suit she wore and the emerald and jade choker at her throat, an outfit more suited to a society luncheon than to preaching peace from the pulpit. Her small handbag was dyed a greenish black, big enough to hold a comb and a compact, but not much more. The entire ensemble was obviously chosen to set off her striking green eyes.

  What really struck him was the way she strutted into the room, utterly in command and certain that all eyes were on her. Dora moved in that same confident way, but Isadora was playful and flirtatious. Effie Fontaine was sultry, arrogant.

  Gabe and Jack traded looks, a question asked and answered. His partner saw the same thing. He cleared his throat and smiled, but kept his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. “What can I do for you, Miss … Sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  Miss Fontaine took a turn around his office before acknowledging his greeting. She studied the newspaper articles and old telegrams pinned to the soft pine board on the wall, glanced at the small stack of books on the file cabinet, and idly leafed through the papers in the tray on his desk. Anything more important than a duty roster was locked away, but he had a hunch she knew that. He reined in his temper, determined to win whatever game she played.

  He was slowly counting to a hundred for the fifth or sixth time when she turned to him. She tugged off her glove and held out her hand, unsmiling and direct. “Effie Fontaine. I hear your men are asking questions about me, Mr. Ryan. That needs to stop immediately.”

  Rockwell looked up, startled by the implied insult. He opened his mouth to say something, but a look from Gabe stopped him. “You can go back to your duties, Officer. The lieutenant and I will handle things from here.”

  He didn’t take Miss Fontaine’s hand until after Lon closed the door. A hot, blue spark snapped between them. She flinched hard, trying to yank her hand back, but Gabe held on for another few seconds. He didn’t let his smile drop, gritting his teeth against the feel of grabbing a bare electric wire.

  Something similar happened with Isadora on occasion. Dora had explained the spark and flash by saying she was the lightning rod that grounded him, draining away the negative energy that just doing his job attracted. The worst he’d ever felt with Isadora was a mild shock, akin to scraping his shoes on the carpet before touching a doorknob. This was burning, painful, and left a dusty taste on the back of his tongue. And he’d never felt the need to scrub his skin raw after touching Dora’s hand.

  That left him wondering who Miss Effie Ladia Fontaine really was and what she might be hiding. She definitely wasn’t just the peace evangelist she claimed to be. Every instinct he’d honed as a cop and every bit of hard-won experience said the face she showed the world was a lie.

  Anger, irrational and unprovoked, bubbled up as he let the handshake end. Gabe found himself fervently wishing Dora were there to tell him what there was about this woman he couldn’t see. He was out of his depth and he knew it. “It’s Captain Ryan. This is my partner, Lieutenant Fitzgerald. Why don’t you have a seat?”

  “I’ll stand if you don’t mind.” She studied the reddened palm of her hand, frowning, and put her glove back on. Miss Fontaine was still frowning as she looked him in the eye. “I don’t plan on wasting your time or mine, so I’ll come straight to the point. Call off your dogs, Captain. People opposed to my message have tried to intimidate me before and failed. And I certainly won’t allow myself to become entangled in malicious gossip or some trumped-up scandal. The questions your men are asking are certain to do both.”

  Jack stepped forward, his face a study in polite puzzlement. “I don’t understand, Miss Fontaine. We’re conducting an investigation, not spreading gossip. What makes you think otherwise?”

  Gabe stayed in the background, waiting to see how she’d react. Jack had used the same ploy in the past, both to survive his stepmother’s social circles and to coax reluctant witnesses and suspects to talk. Being overly polite and concerned often irritated them into revealing more than they’d planned, especially if they were angry to begin with.

  That tactic wasn’t going to work on Effie Fontaine. Her frosty smile and exasperated sigh left no doubt she knew what he was doing. “Really, Lieutenant, don’t play the fool with me. The role doesn’t become you.”

  Knowing when to change how he approached a witness was one of the reasons Jack was so good at his job. And at least for now, Miss Fontaine was only a witness.

  “All right. I was hoping to keep this polite and civil. But we can do it your way.” Jack folded his arms, glancing at the two bodyguards in turn and openly dismissing them as beneath notice. “The captain and I have no interest in intimidating you or causing a scandal. All we want to do is bring Thad Harper home to his family. Asking questions that might help us find him is our officers’ job.”

  “If asking after a missing day laborer were all your officers did, I wouldn’t be here. The reports I’ve had say your men are implying that anyone who comes to work for me vanishes into thin air.” She waved a hand dismissively. “That’s a preposterous allegation and you know it.”

  Gabe perched on a corner of the desk, coat draped across his lap. He kept his cool, impersonal detective expression in place, hiding how much this small woman irritated him. She set his teeth on edge, and for the life of him, he didn’t understand why. “No one is making any allegations yet, Miss Fontaine. We’re investigating a missing persons report filed by a member of Thad Harper’s family. The last place anyone saw Mr. Harper was on one of your work crews. And preposterous or not, your name keeps coming up in connection with other people who’ve gone missing. Other men who joined your work crews have disappeared.”

  “I can’t be held responsible for every man who collects his wages and falls into a whiskey bottle afterwards.” She stood ramrod straight and looked Gabe in the eye, arrogance replaced by injured sincerity. “My benefactor is very generous in funding my travels, Captain, and believes wholeheartedly in my message of peace. I try to be just as generous with the men I hire. Setting up tables and chairs or serving food at my receptions isn’t hard work, but it is honest labor. I don’t inquire into what they do with the money or where they go once they leave. That’s between them and their conscience.”

  Gabe picked a thread off the overcoat draped across his lap, watching the bit of string twirl and float to the floor. Thinking. Trying to sift truth from lies. “That’s very generous of you. Who is your benefactor, Miss Fontaine? Anyone I might have heard of?”

  “I promised not to reveal his identity.” The apologetic smile she gave him was brief and insincere. “He prefers to remain out of the public eye. You understand. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back and prepare for my lecture tonight.”

  He didn’t understand, and from the scowl on Jack’s face, he didn’t either. Gabe cleared his throat and stood
. “One last question before you go. Not all the missing persons reports we’ve taken are for day laborers. When was the last time you saw Amanda Poe?”

  Effie Fontaine’s smile dimmed. He saw the initial surprise in her eyes and the calculation that quickly followed. “The shipping heiress? I’ve read about her in the society columns, but I don’t know her personally. What possessed you to ask?”

  Gabe heard Jack’s muttered curse and the creak of floorboards as he moved behind her to stand near the window. Her bodyguards watched him, eyes flat and faces emotionless, but Miss Fontaine took no notice. He added finding out who her bodyguards were, and why she needed them, to his long list of unanswered questions about her.

  Number one on that list was why Effie Fontaine chose to lie about knowing Amanda.

  And Gabe had no doubts that she was lying. He knew what Amanda’s housekeeper, Maddie Holmes, had said about how obsessed Amanda was with Effie Fontaine. Of the two women, Maddie was the one with no reason to lie.

  Gabe gave Miss Fontaine a different name to attach to the housekeeper’s story, someone he knew she couldn’t reach—Archie Baldwin. That was important. He could almost hear his dad’s voice saying that if Effie Fontaine couldn’t reach Archie, she couldn’t hurt him.

  Provoking a reaction from her, whether anger or indifference, was important too. A reaction might lead him closer to the truth. “I asked because Miss Poe hasn’t been seen by any of her friends or family for over two weeks now. Her fiancé, Archie Baldwin, told me that Amanda went to quite a few of your lectures. They attended one of your talks together the night she disappeared. As a matter of fact, he said Amanda introduced him to you at the reception afterwards. Mr. Baldwin gave me the impression that Miss Poe knew you quite well.”

  Effie Fontaine’s laugh was harsh, mocking. “Come now, Captain. According to the newspapers, Amanda Poe is one of the richest women on the West Coast. I think I’d remember if she was deeply involved in the peace movement or sought me out for conversation. Her fiancé is mistaken.”