Bradley Wells likely lived and grew up in an area like this, running from yard to yard with the other boys, or sitting in the porch swing after dark on summer nights, watching for fallen stars. That was how Gabe had grown up, and the kind of childhood he wanted for his children. But Wells would never get to watch his child grow up.
Gabe shook off feelings of regret and the beginnings of anger. He couldn’t change what had happened. The best he could do was catch the killers and find a little justice for Bradley Wells’s child.
Once under the porch roof, he took off his hat and shook off as much rain as possible. He disregarded Jack’s grumpy expression. “Are you ready?”
“Let’s get this over with.” Jack knocked on the door. “I hate questioning widows about their late husband’s activities. Given half a chance, I’d give up this part of the job.”
“I know.” Heavy footfalls sounded from inside, drawing closer to the door. Gabe stood up straight, bracing himself for what was to come. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it this time.”
Jack frowned and gave him a sidelong glance. “Not a chance, Gabe. We both know I’m better at this, and I know Adele at least. I feel as if I owe her.”
Lindsey pulled open the door, cutting off their conversation. This was the first time Gabe had seen the commissioner outside of the police station or some city function. He was still large and imposing dressed in suspenders and rolled-up shirtsleeves, and the damp dish towel clutched in one hand didn’t diminish his blustering air of authority.
The fear in his eyes accomplished that.
“Ryan, Fitzgerald, come in. Hang your coats and hats in the entry. No need to drip all the way through the house.” Lindsey waved them in with the dish towel, closing the door quickly once they were inside. “Adele is in the parlor, resting. I trust you’ll keep this short.”
Gabe handed his overcoat and fedora to Jack, who hung up both coats on a wood and brass coatrack mounted on the sidewall. “We’ll do our best to make this as easy on Mrs. Wells as possible. If this wasn’t necessary, we wouldn’t be here. You have my word on that, Commissioner.” He traded looks with Jack. “Does she know to expect us?”
“Of course she knows. I told her you’d called and let her decide whether to answer your questions or not. She insisted on seeing you.” Lindsey’s face reddened and he twisted and untwisted the towel in his hand. “Addie’s not worried about speaking to you, but I’m worried about her heart and the harm more stress will cause. Her doctor would skin me if he knew I’d allowed this.”
Jack stepped forward. “Robert, we’ll be very careful. And I’m sure Adele wants Brad’s killer caught as much or more than any of us. There’s a good chance getting the answers to these questions will bring us closer to catching his murderer.”
“All right. Let’s get this over with.” Lindsey tossed the dish towel on a side table. “But if I call a halt, you’re leaving right then.”
That parlor was just down a short hallway. Family photographs hung on the walls, including pictures of Robert Lindsey as a young merchant seaman, and posing with his wife on their wedding day. Tall and willowy, radiant in the way happy brides were, the top of her head barely came to the top of her new husband’s shoulder. Gabe remembered reading in the papers about Ida Lindsey’s death, but that was before Lindsey had been appointed police commissioner. He hadn’t paid more than passing attention to how she died.
Adele Wells was propped up on a stack of pillows in the corner of a brown chesterfield sofa, a book in hand. Gabe’s first impression was that she looked a great deal like her mother. Her dark russet hair was tied back with a green ribbon that matched her housecoat. The housecoat in turn was an attempt to match the color of her big, blue green eyes, but ended up being shades lighter.
Stark, dusky shadows bruised the fair skin under her eyes. Blankets and a coverlet swaddled her from the chest down, but Gabe didn’t think that was an attempt to hide how hugely pregnant Adele Wells was. If so, the camouflage failed. He traded looks with Jack. Lindsey hadn’t exaggerated how close to confinement his daughter was nor how fragile.
“Jack! I haven’t seen you since Katherine’s party last spring.” Adele’s smile lit her face, taking away some of the tiredness. She held out a hand. “Daddy didn’t tell me you were one of the detectives coming to talk to me. I’d have been less nervous if I’d known.”
Jack took his cue and sat on the floor next to her. He held the offered hand, cradling it between both of his, and smiled. “Hello, Adele. It has been a long time. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Brad. Is there anything Sadie and I can do for you?”
Gabe pulled up a chair near the foot of the sofa, out of the way, but where he could see Adele’s reaction to Jack’s questions, or ask his own. He didn’t miss how tightly Adele gripped Jack’s fingers.
“You can catch the people who did this.” Her voice caught and her lower lip trembled, but she didn’t cry. She looked between Jack and Gabe. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You think I know something that will help you find Brad’s killer.”
“We hope so, Mrs. Wells.” Gabe leaned forward, hands folded and arms resting on his knees, and smiled. “I’m Captain Gabe Ryan. Jack and I won’t keep you long, but if you feel strong enough, I’d like to ask you a few questions. If you want to stop at any time, just say so.”
Adele kept hold of Jack’s hand, but she looked Gabe in the eye. “Ask me. I’ll be fine.”
“All right.” Her heart might be weak, but Gabe wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking of Adele Wells as anything but strong. “How often did your husband work in his father’s store?”
“Not often.” She fingered the blanket stretched over her lap, mouth quirked to one side as she thought. “Not often at all. It’s been more than six months, maybe as long as eight, since Bradley—He hadn’t worked in the shop in a long time, Captain Ryan.”
“So no one outside the family knew he was going to be there that day.”
She looked him in the eye. “No one. I found his note when I woke up that morning. He’d propped it on the night table before going out.”
Gabe thought for an instant before asking his next question. He didn’t want to plant ideas in Adele Wells’s mind. “Had your husband joined any new social clubs, or started any new business ventures in the last few months? Anything at all you can think of that might have attracted the notice of strangers?”
“Bradley was an accountant, Captain, with a well-off clientele. His business ventures were limited to taking on new clients occasionally, but most of the people he worked for had been with him for years.” Adele swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked exhausted, more drawn than when they’d started. Lindsey stood behind the sofa at Adele’s head, fingers curled and digging deep into the tufted leather. He kept quiet and didn’t interfere, something Gabe gave him a great deal of credit for. “And I’m afraid doing sums in a small office doesn’t attract the notice of strangers or garner invitations to social clubs.”
Gabe sat back in the chair. “Did your husband socialize with clients often?”
“I’m afraid not, Captain. Other than church functions and the occasional party with friends, neither of us went out in the evenings. We lived a fairly quiet life.”
“Adele.” Jack had been sitting on the floor, listening and chewing his lower lip. He half turned to look at her directly. “Brad was on your church board, wasn’t he? I remember him saying last year that he booked the church hall for wedding receptions and special events that couldn’t be held in the sanctuary. Was he still responsible for doing that?”
Anticipation coiled tight in Gabe’s chest, waiting for Adele’s answer. He saw the possible connection to Effie Fontaine, just as Jack did, and one connection would likely lead to more.
“I’m surprised you remembered, but yes, he still worked for the church in his off hours. Over the last few months, he’d been working with our pastor to raise money for a new sanctuary. The old one survived the quak
e, but needs to be replaced.” She winced and pressed a hand tight against her side. “Pastor Scott and Brad hit on the idea of renting the church hall out evenings. Choral groups and ladies’ sewing circles mostly, but Brad found a very popular speaker too. Fees for using the hall three nights a week for several months was a tidy sum. Pastor Scott says they’ve raised almost half the builder’s price already.”
“Mrs. Wells … did your husband mention the name of this speaker? Or the name of anyone who might work for this person?” Gabe’s cop mask stayed firmly in place, calm and professional, hiding how fast his heart beat, or that sweat trickled down the small of his back.
He knew the answer. He needed to hear her say a name.
“I remember the men who came to the house to give Brad the deposit and pick up the contracts.” Adele wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Bradley introduced them as Conrad Lang and Jonas Wolf. I didn’t care for how either of them spoke to me, so I excused myself as soon as was polite. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember who they worked for.”
The creeping itch on the back of his neck grew worse, transforming guesses into certainty. One of the men hiring laborers for Effie Fontaine in Mr. Glibert’s grocery had been called Jonas, an uncommon-enough name that the chance of two popping up in a short amount of time were very slim. Gabe was sure this had to be the same man. He knew where to start looking for these men and who they worked for, but building a solid case took time. Too much time.
That Jonas Wolf had been in Bradley Wells’s home bothered him a great deal. Adele was already in danger. The more he and Jack poked around Effie Fontaine, the more the danger increased. They needed to move as quickly as possible.
Gabe refused to frighten her, so instead he chose a somewhat lesser evil. He lied. “We can find their employer if need be, Mrs. Wells. Just knowing their names is a big help. There’s only a slim chance that these men had anything to do with your husband’s death, but we need to follow all possible leads.”
Jack’s glance acknowledged he knew what Gabe had done and why. He lied just as glibly. “Gabe’s right, Adele. We’ll follow up with Pastor Scott, but not all leads pan out. Don’t get your hopes up.”
Telling the commissioner he was placing guards on the house, and why, wouldn’t be pleasant, but he knew Lindsey would agree once he heard him out. Robert Lindsey was a blowhard, but Gabe was sure he’d do anything to keep his daughter and grandchild safe. He stood to leave, meaning to speak to the commissioner on the way out.
The front bell rang, drawing a scowl from Lindsey.
“Blast. This better be important. I’ll be right back, Addie.” He stalked out of the room.
Jack squeezed Adele’s hand and stood. “Thank you, Adele. You’ve been very helpful. If you need anything from me or Sadie, please let us know. Gabe and I will let you rest now.”
“I’ll try.” She pressed a hand to her side again and grimaced. “This baby doesn’t let me sleep much. I’m sure Sadie went through the same thing.”
He smiled. “She did. Those last weeks before Stella was born might be the only time I’ve seen Sadie grumpy.”
Lindsey appeared in the parlor doorway, his posture oddly stiff and formal. Gabe saw Marshall Henderson standing in the entryway near the open front door, hair soaking wet and plastered to his head, his coat sluicing water all over the oak floor.
Marshall wouldn’t leave his post without reason. His heart caught in his chest for an instant, afraid that something had happened to Delia. But Marshall was watching Jack, his distress clear. That didn’t make Gabe feel any better.
The commissioner cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, one of your officers needs to speak with you. I gather it’s urgent.”
Jack saw Henderson waiting and hurried to meet him in the entryway. They kept their voices low and the conversation was brief, but after listening to what was said, Jack was ashen and visibly shaken. He grabbed his coat and ran out the front door.
Marshall stared out into the rain after him, but didn’t follow. The sound of a car door slamming and an engine coming to life carried into the parlor from outside.
Very few things would cause Jack to leave so abruptly without saying where he was going, or telling Gabe why. The list was short and utterly terrifying.
Gabe retreated behind the shield of professionalism and pulled himself together. “Thank you again, Mrs. Wells. Commissioner, can I have a word before I go?”
They stepped into the hall. “Commissioner, I want to put an around-the-clock guard on your house. Hear me out before you object.” Gabe outlined why he felt the need to put guards around Adele, giving her father reasons that he hoped didn’t sound like the ravings of a man jumping at shadows. The entire time he was patiently answering Lindsey’s questions, Gabe’s attention was tugged toward the open door. He couldn’t help stealing glances at Marshall fidgeting in the doorway, watching Gabe anxiously and impatient to leave, but knowing he couldn’t interrupt.
Lindsey finally ran out of steam. He ran a hand over his face. “I’ll trust your judgment on this one, Ryan. I don’t want to take any chances with my daughter’s life. But I want your guards inside the house, where they can do some good, not out in the yard or standing on the street. I’ll think of an excuse for Addie.”
Gabe shrugged on his coat and buttoned it before plucking his hat off the rack. Rain still speckled the gray wool, glistening in the lamplight. “Expect Officer Rockwell and at least two other men within the hour. I know Lon is on duty tonight, but I’m not sure who else is available. We won’t let anything happen to your daughter.”
“Make sure of it, Ryan.” Lindsey eyed the parlor door and lowered his voice. “Catch these bastards. I don’t care how you do it, just get them. I’ll take the heat from the press if necessary.”
Gabe nodded. “My men will be here soon. Good afternoon, Commissioner.”
He followed Marshall onto the porch, pausing to pull his hat down tight and flip up his collar before they dashed to the car. Rain fell straight down in sheets, soaking yards and flower beds, and creating shallow rivers that ran downhill in the center of the street. Even with his collar turned up, large cold drops found their way down his neck, making him shiver.
Once inside the car, he gave Henderson almost no time to catch his breath. “What happened, Marshall?”
“Polk brought a message for the lieutenant from the station, Captain. He waited to take the lieutenant back with him.” Henderson twisted around to look at Gabe in the backseat, wide-eyed and face ashy with shock. “It’s Archie Baldwin. He’s dead.”
“Baldwin’s dead.” Gabe stared, numbness filling his chest and slowing his thoughts. He’d tossed her a name, but Fontaine couldn’t get to Archie, not locked away in a jail cell. She couldn’t; that wasn’t possible. “How?”
Marshall looked away and cleared his throat. “He hanged himself, Captain. Stripped the sheet off the bed and tied it to the bars.”
They sat there for a few seconds, neither of them saying a word. Henderson recovered first, starting the car and heading back toward the station without waiting for orders. Thinking for himself.
Gabe slumped against the seat, hat pulled low and staring out the rain-splattered window, fighting his guilt and losing. He kept circling back to the idea that Fontaine couldn’t be responsible for Archie’s suicide. She couldn’t reach him.
Yet, somehow, she had. He knew she’d found a way to get to Archie, felt the truth of that knowledge nestle into his bones, even if he couldn’t explain how.
But he’d find the answer. Then he’d lock Effie Ladia Fontaine away for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER 15
Delia
Isadora’s home was both a haven and a fortress. Entering her house always lifted a weight from my shoulders, one I hadn’t known I carried until it vanished. The protections woven around the house were designed to keep the spirit realm at bay, as well as block strong emotions from the people living around her. As sensitive as Dora was to pain and suffering, and the
anger of spirits who resented leaving this world, she’d have gone mad long ago without a place to retreat.
She’d lived in the house seven years, and no ghost had been powerful enough to cross the threshold without her permission, or unless deliberately summoned by Dora. I counted on that holding true well into the future. Tarot readings sometimes stirred up unwelcome attentions in the spirit world.
We’d settled in her sitting room to wait for Gabe, Randy, and Jack. Rain pounded the side of the house, but the room was warm and snug, and bright enough I could perch on the window seat and read. The light dimmed as afternoon wore on, taking on the heavy gray cast of clouds and rain. I’d be forced to turn on a lamp soon or forgo my book.
The kitten was sleeping in a wicker basket Dora had pulled from a closet, content in a nest made from my scarf. Mai appeared to be comfortable in Isadora’s house, likely for the same reasons I was. She’d lapped up most of a saucer of cream and promptly fallen asleep afterwards.
Dora sat at a round table in the center of the room, fussing with her tarot deck. She shuffled the tarot cards for the fourth or fifth time, mixing them well, squaring them up, and laying the deck atop the black silk cloth covering the table. Then she closed her eyes, head tipped to the side, and listened. Also for the fourth or fifth time, she frowned at the gilt-edged stack of cards once she’d opened her eyes, fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the tabletop.
“I don’t understand this, Dee. The cards have never been angry before.” Dora stood abruptly, pacing over to the shelf in the corner that held her cigarettes and matches. She took a cigarette from the case, waving it around unlit as she talked. “Once or twice I’ve needed to coax them to cooperate, but this is different. They positively vibrate with rage.”
If I concentrated very hard, I heard an angry buzz, low and just within hearing. The noise was akin to the sound that came from a hornet’s nest knocked to the ground by the gardeners, furious at being disturbed and hunting a target. There was a time I’d have thought I’d imagined hearing. Now I attributed very little to flights of imagination.
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