I gave Gabe a hug and moved to rescue Jack from Mai’s sneak attack on his fingers. She snuggled into the crook of my arm, purring loudly and watching Gabe. I could almost imagine she knew who he was and that charming him thoroughly was in her best interest. “Don’t exaggerate, Dora. We both know what happened. The kitten was a gift from Mr. Sung.”
Gabe looked from the small gray cat in my arms and back to me, wide-eyed with surprise. “Sung Wing? The tong leader?”
“Dora tells me he’s apparently the resident shaman of Chinatown as well. One kind of power would feed into the other, I imagine.” I held the kitten up to Gabe. “Her name is Mai. Isadora and I talked over why Mr. Sung might have come to the conservatory at the same time we were having our picnic. We came to the conclusion that Mr. Sung was there to bring me the cat, not out of any need to look at flowers. Why he felt the need to give me a kitten is still a mystery.”
He turned to Isadora, his expression stormy. She ground out her cigarette and made the effort to appear somewhat apologetic. “The conversation we had was a little more involved, but yes, that’s the gist of it. I’m reasonably certain I know where the kitten came from inside Chinatown and the family involved. Otherwise, I’d never have let Mr. Sung leave the cat with Dee.”
“Keeping a present from the most powerful man in Chinatown doesn’t strike me as a good idea at any time. The timing right now couldn’t be worse.” Gabe crossed his arms and dragged a toe across the Persian carpet, watching the pile change from dark to light. He looked me in the eye, frowning. “Aside from anything else, Sung knew right where to find you and Dora. That scares me, Delia. I have to wonder how long his men have been watching you and worry about what he’ll do next. What if he thinks he can use you as leverage against me? A man like Sung Wing doesn’t do anything out of the goodness of his heart. He wants something in return.”
Thom coughed and pushed back his chair. “Come along, Dodd. We should let the captain and Mrs. Ryan talk in private. Let’s see if Miss Ella’s got any more chocolate cake out in the kitchen.”
Dora gave me a look as they left the parlor, but didn’t say anything. Jack watched keenly, bright-eyed and attentive, but he didn’t interject himself into the conversation either. I’d no way to know how he felt.
I was on my own. “Frankly, Gabe Ryan, I don’t care who Mr. Sung is or what he thinks I can do for him. He’s doomed to disappointment on that score. And even a powerful man can do a good deed without expecting payment.” I ran my hand over Mai’s back, stroking fur softer than eiderdown. “I’m keeping her. We belong to each other.”
He watched me, conflict and worry clear in his eyes. “I don’t ever want you to be hurt because of my job or a case I’m working on. But all right. If you want the kitten that badly, then we’ll keep her.” Gabe offered Mai his hand to sniff. She smelled him quite thoroughly before licking the ends of his fingers. That made him smile. “One small cat really isn’t much of a bribe. Just promise me that you’ll let me know right away if Mr. Sung contacts you again.”
“I promise.” I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
Dora tapped her long nails on the side of her glass, rattling the ice inside. “I share your concerns about Sung Wing and his motives, Gabe. I can’t say I was very kind once I discovered he knew who Delia was. But in the end we are talking about a very tiny cat, not a jade necklace. I don’t see how any harm can come from this.” She glanced at me, her smile secretive and conspiratorial. “Cats are useful creatures. Give Mai a little time to grow, and she’ll be a formidable hunter.”
I hadn’t said anything about Dora’s belief that Mai might hunt ghosts or keep spirits with ill intent out of our house. Coming from a long line of ghost-hunting cats wasn’t why I wanted to keep Mai. And I needed to be certain about what my small gray cat could or couldn’t do before I told Gabe, perhaps raising his hopes. We’d all had enough upset for one day.
Dora drained the last drop of whiskey and held the glass out to Jack. “Be a dear and pour me another one. If Gabe and Delia are quite finished making eyes at each other, we can confront the unpleasant subject staring us in the face. I’d like to hear what happened with Archie.”
“Only for you, Dora.” Jack leaned over to kiss her cheek as he retrieved her empty glass. He pulled open the doors on the rosewood and black lacquer bar cabinet, lifting out several bottles and reading labels before choosing one. “I could use a drink too. This has been one hell of a day. Can I get you something, Gabe?”
Gabe put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “None for me, thanks. Maybe later. If we’re going to talk about what happened with Archie at the station, I want Dodd and Russell to hear this. They need to know.”
Jack handed Dora her drink. “I’ll go get them.”
By the time Randy, Jack, and Thom returned from the kitchen, I’d settled down on the settee again. The kitten perched on my lap, calm and quiet, making no effort to run and play. She watched Randy move into place, purring in an odd rhythm I’d not heard before, and shut her eyes once he’d taken a seat next to Isadora. I wondered at that.
Gabe paced the center of the room, shoulders held stiffly and hands stuffed deep into his pockets. I knew my husband well. He was working up to telling us unpleasant truths.
He stopped pacing, looking at each of us in turn, and cleared his throat. “I wanted Dodd and Russell to hear what I have to say about how Archie Baldwin died. Thom Russell’s been on my squad for years. I know him pretty well. I know his family and the kind of man he is. And Randy’s been at the station just a few months, but Delia and Dora trust him. That means I can too.”
“Gabriel.” Dora leaned forward, blue eyes narrowing and the newly lit cigarette in her hand forgotten. “Let me make certain I understand. Are you saying you can’t trust all of your men?”
“That’s exactly what he’s saying, Dora.” Jack leaned on the wall behind Dora’s chair. He swirled his glass, watching pieces of ice careen off the sides. “Archie didn’t commit suicide. He was murdered.”
Thom’s face went slack with shock. “Murdered in the cell block? Are you sure, Captain?”
“I’m as sure as I can be until I get the coroner’s report. Sal says that will take a few days, but based on what he found today—he agrees with me.” Gabe raked fingers through his hair, looking exhausted and utterly defeated. “Baldwin didn’t hang himself. I’ll spare my wife and Dora the details, but Archie couldn’t have managed on his own. He had help.”
“So it had to be one of our squad.” Thom wiped a hand over his mouth and shook his head. “I’d never have believed that, not in a fistful of years.”
“Christ Almighty!” Jack slammed his glass on the tabletop, sloshing whiskey onto his hand. His voice was rough and ragged, and his face grew red and blotchy. “How the hell did she get to one of our men? Fontaine struts into the station bold as brass, and two hours later, Archie’s dead. Explain that to me, Gabe. How did that happen?”
Dora laid a hand on Jack’s arm. She winced at the strength of his emotion, but didn’t pull away. “Sit down, Jack. Please. Let Gabe tell the rest of us what happened.”
He sank into the chair next to Dora, staring at his shoes. She kept an arm looped through Jack’s, offering what comfort she could, and endured the pain his grief and anger forced upon her. I knew what that cost her.
I caught Randy frowning as he studied Isadora’s face. That he understood she was in a great deal of pain was clear, but then again, he’d helped Dora endure the agony of handling evidence the first day they met. Randy reached for her free hand, holding tight, and much of the strain left Dora’s face. His ability to channel away her pain was a true blessing.
We sat quietly listening as Gabe explained who Effie Ladia Fontaine was and recounted her unannounced visit to his office, and all that he and Jack suspected about her. His voice broke as he told us about mentioning Archie’s name and how that may have been the reason Archie was murdered. Gabe cleared his throat and went on, giving us
the details of Miss Fontaine’s connections to Archie, Bradley Wells, and a young man named Thad Harper, and how devoted Amanda Poe had been to the pacifist cause.
Those were ties he and Jack could prove, the first links in a chain. All the people Gabe had mentioned were dead or missing after crossing Miss Fontaine’s path. The facts they knew for certain made a damning case in my mind, but lacked legal proof.
The list of horrors Gabe laid at her feet went on: bodies of young women washing up under a pier, men recruited for a day’s labor and never coming home, young women vanishing. He and Jack suspected Miss Fontaine of somehow being a party to the murder of Mr. Sung’s brother and niece, a ruthless killing much too like the way Bradley Wells died for them to ignore the similarities. Gabe couldn’t prove Effie Fontaine was directly connected, not yet, but he knew. Listening to him speak, I became certain as well.
As the story unfolded, I’d begun to understand why ghosts were flocking to Gabe, looking for a champion and seeking justice. Remembering the child ghosts in that throng of haunts, each big-eyed, small face frightened and confused, made me heartsick. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt children deliberately. Nor could I grasp how a mind became depraved enough to murder a child.
But as I listened, the certainty that I knew the truth became stronger. Each small ghost was somehow connected to Effie Fontaine, more links in the chain—more victims—stretching back far too many years. That was a horrific thought, one I couldn’t put aside.
And I couldn’t help but think of the little girl spirit and wonder what part she played. I didn’t believe for a moment her appearance was a coincidence.
Gabe finished speaking and no one said anything for a long while. I needed time to think, to sift through all the things I’d learned and see how they fit with what I already knew. From the expression on Isadora’s face, she was doing the same.
Thom was the first to break the silence. “I’m not doubting what you said, Captain, far from it. But I can’t deny the whole thing makes little sense to me. Why would someone like Miss Fontaine take up murder? She must be well respected or all those churches wouldn’t let her speak. Even traveling the way she does, seems like someone would have noticed if she was leaving a trail of bodies behind.”
“Not necessarily.” Randy glanced at Gabe, seeking permission to speak. “Depends on the towns she visited. Strangers were always passing through the little town I grew up in. No one paid much attention if a drifter was there one day and gone the next. We only kept track of people who’d lived there all their lives. Things are different here.”
“Dodd’s right.” Jack shifted in his chair. “Things are different here. She attracted the attention of San Francisco society, for one thing. People notice if the society pages fill up with stories about socialites being murdered. And Archie had enough sanity left to come looking for me after Mandy disappeared. I don’t know if we’d have noticed Effie Fontaine or made connections to the rest of these cases otherwise.”
Thom rolled down his shirtsleeves, forehead screwed up in thought. “There’s a lot of truth in that, Lieutenant. But even if she’d paid a gang of rowdies to do her dirty work, I still can’t see the logic or what she’d have to gain. No offense, ladies, but most women don’t have the stomach for murder. And it takes a pretty cocksure person to reach inside a jail cell to silence someone.”
“No offense taken.” Dora let go of Jack’s arm. She drained her glass, the remaining whiskey watered down and pale with melted ice. “You’re right. Few women have the stomach for that type of cold, calculated murder. The ones who do are all the more dangerous.”
My earlier thoughts about spirits and control returned, blossoming into hard, jarring conviction. I knew what had happened to Archie Baldwin.
“Effie Fontaine has the stomach for murder and much worse. She drove Archie to the brink of insanity before she had him killed.” Randy and Thom traded looks, unsure what I meant. Gabe and Jack peered at me quizzically, waiting for me to go on, but they’d had a good taste of Archie’s raving. I sat up straighter and spoke before I thought better of it. “The spirits surrounding him weren’t random haunts. Dora and I both saw that. She sent those ghosts after Archie.”
“Oh dear God. Archie escaped her somehow.” The same stark and horrible realization I’d come to sat in Dora’s eyes. She slumped back in her chair, hands limp in her lap. “No one listens to the ravings of a lunatic. She kept him quiet and in a cage until she could dispose of him.”
Jack left the room, his footfalls sounding farther away as he headed toward the front door. Gabe started after Jack, but Thom stepped in front of him. “I’ll look out for the lieutenant, sir. Stay with Dora and Mrs. Ryan. The three of you can work out what we do next.”
I made room for Gabe to sit next to me. He looked ghastly, the combination of anger, worry, and lingering guilt over Archie’s death leaching the color from his face. My own guilt over Archie weighed on me as well. I leaned against Gabe, knowing that nothing I did would make things better, while fervently wishing I could.
He slipped an arm around my shoulders. “What are we going to do, Dora? You and Dee understand what’s going on better than I do. Tell me where to start.”
“I’d suggest burning Effie Fontaine at the stake, but supporting a witch hunt of any sort might be hypocritical on my part. I’m only half-serious in any case.” Dora tried to stand, but her feet got tangled and she ended up sitting heavily instead. She waved away my frown and Randy’s startled expression. “Please don’t look so outraged. Be a pet and pour me another drink, Randy.”
“No, I don’t think so. You’ve had at least five since dinner. That’s enough.” Randy stayed in his chair, jaw set and hands braced on his knees. “This is serious, Dora. The captain just asked for your help. You won’t be any use to him if you’re too full of whiskey to stand up.”
Dora arched an eyebrow, her smile icy and controlled. “Are you calling me a drunk, Officer Dodd?”
“My granddad had a saying, Miss Bobet.” Randy stretched out his long legs and sat back, arms folded. “If the cap fits, wear it.”
Gabe’s arm tightened around my shoulders, a warning I didn’t need. Neither of us was foolish enough to get between Dora and Randy until it proved necessary. The two of them stared at each other, engaged in a silent duel of wills. I’d not seen anyone other than Daniel or me stand up to Dora this way. I’d thought Randy an Indiana farm boy trying to find his footing in San Francisco, but now I revised my opinion. There were depths to Randolph Dodd that I’d not guessed.
Her close friends all knew Dora drank more than she should. We watched over her, but we’d also given up direct attempts to get her to stop. She’d explained to me from the onset of our friendship that she much preferred the numbness alcohol brought to experiencing another person’s suffering. Put that way, I couldn’t say I blamed her.
Daniel was usually able to keep her drinking in reasonable check, but he’d been gone for months. I was so used to seeing her with a glass in her hand, or adding whiskey to her tea, that I seldom paid attention. She might be drinking more and I just hadn’t noticed.
The standoff between them didn’t last long. Dora sighed and pushed her glass away, giving in gracefully. “Perhaps coffee would be best after all. Cream and two sugars, please.”
He wasn’t gone more than a few minutes. Randy returned from the kitchen with a tray full of coffee cups, cream pitcher, sugar cubes on a saucer, and a plate full of ladyfingers. Randy handed Isadora her cup, offered coffee to the rest of us, and took his seat again.
Dora looked Randy in the eye and smiled brightly, as if they’d never had a disagreement. “Do you own a good suit? I realize elegant tailoring might be too much to ask, but a nice coat and vest, and decent trousers will do. Just as long as it’s appropriate for a night on the town.”
“I have a good suit. My family pitched in and had one made for me before I came to San Francisco.” Randy looked to Gabe and me for help, but we were just as much
in the dark. He eyed Dora, understandably cautious. I didn’t blame him in the slightest. “I don’t have the need to wear it often. Why?”
“Because it occurs to me that before we know where to start with Miss Fontaine, we need to know what she is. I’m not at all certain about that right now. Once I know, I can determine what she’s capable of, aside from murder.” Dora tasted her coffee, made a face, and dropped in more sugar. “The best way to do that is to attend one of her lectures. Think of it as braving the lion in her den, if you like. Dee and I will need an escort, someone she doesn’t know and can’t influence. You fit that role perfectly.”
“Dammit, Dora.” Gabe took his arm away, moving to perch on the edge of the cushion, stiff and tense. “I don’t want you or Delia anywhere near Fontaine. Something about her makes my skin crawl. You’re the one who taught me not to disregard those feelings. And this feels much too dangerous, especially after what you said about Baldwin. There has to be another way.”
Dora blew a cloud of blue-tinted smoke toward the ceiling before laying the cigarette aside, all the while studying Gabe’s face. Her expression softened. “I believe you. But unless you have sensitives tucked away in your squad room, Delia and I are the only ones qualified to ferret out Effie Fontaine’s secrets. If she’s able to marshal armies of spirits and send them after people, we need to know. What happened to Archie makes it even more imperative. I won’t presume to know if either Dee or Randy is eager to undertake this spying mission. They can decide for themselves, but I’m going regardless of their decision. There is no other way.”
I tucked the kitten into the crook of my arm and moved to rest my head on Gabe’s shoulder. He held himself still and rigid, as if moving or even reacting to my presence would cause him to shatter. I’d never thought of Gabe as being afraid of anything, mostly because he’d never said as much or acted fearful. But he didn’t need to say it aloud for me to know he was afraid for me and Isadora right now. “Dora’s right, Gabe. She has to go and I have to go with her.”
A Barricade in Hell Page 21