A Barricade in Hell (28 page)

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.”

He sagged a bit then, resigned. Gabe knew both of us too well. Dora and I had decided on a course of action and he'd never talk either of us out of attending Effie Fontaine's lecture. Now that the die was cast, he wouldn't belabor the point.

Gabe took my hand and glanced over at Randy. “Dodd? What about you?”

“I'll escort them to the lecture.” He looked at Isadora, and something flashed across his face, quickly hidden again. Randy Dodd wasn't the first to fall in love with Dora or become wildly infatuated, but those hidden depths of his would complicate matters. “The two of them shouldn't go alone. I won't let anything happen to them, Captain. You've my word on that.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Officer. And don't worry about being a hero if something goes wrong. I don't expect you to protect them alone.” Gabe rubbed a hand over his face. “I'll post other officers I trust at the lecture to help keep an eye on things. Give me a day or two to line them up. I need to make sure I find men who didn't have any contact with Fontaine when she was at the station.”

“Not trying to argue us out of this was the right choice, Gabe.” Dora finished picking apart a ladyfinger and left it lying on the plate. “Make certain that Jack understands the dangers Miss Fontaine poses, both spiritual and physical. He's very angry right now. Don't let him do anything rash or leave Sadie and the baby unprotected.”

“I'll do my best with Jack. I've already placed guards on Sadie and Stella.” Gabe stood and offered me his hand. “Let's go home, Mrs. Ryan.”

I handed the kitten to Gabe and gathered my coat and scarf, and the basket she'd slept in earlier. Mai seemed very content with Gabe, purring with eyes closed and settling against him. We said our good-byes and started down the hall.

Gabe stopped at the front door to tuck Mai into the top of his overcoat, sheltering her from the rain and cold as I had. “Dee, I forgot to ask, but what came of Dora's tarot card reading? Did she find what she was looking for?”

“I think so, but by then it was too late. She couldn't have changed what happened.” Cards predicting overwhelming sorrow and disaster weren't what she'd expected, but that was what we'd found. And it truly was too late by then; Archie was already dead. I took Gabe's arm and leaned into him, fighting back fresh grief and tears. “Take me home, Gabe. I'll explain on the way.”

*   *   *

I put the kitten's basket in our bedroom near the large chest of drawers, out of drafts and hopefully clear of mischief, and shut the bedroom door. Mai settled in right away, purring softly. She appeared content, and I imagined she knew she was home.

Gabe and I fell asleep in each other's arms. Life was uncertain and perilous, and each of us needed to know the other one was there.

I wasn't certain what woke me, the chiming of the parlor clock or Mai's low growl, but I sat up quickly and groped for my dressing gown. The small gray cat was a shadow on Gabe's pillow, crouching next to his head and staring into the darkness, green eyes glowing in faint moonlight.

Laughter chased around the edges of the room, growing louder and fading again, as if a carousel full of children spun on the ceiling. Mai growled again, but didn't move away from Gabe. She was protecting him; I'd no doubt of that, and less doubt of where the danger lay. The little girl spirit was back.

Pieces of frantic melody replaced the laughter.

Round and round the city streets,

The monkeys chased the people,

Find them now before they die

Dancing with the weasel.

She binds them with a ring of iron,

She beds them in the steeple,

That's the price the people pay

For dancing with the weasel

Dancing with the weasel

Dancing with the weasel.…

Mai continued to stare at the ceiling, growling fierce as a lioness guarding her kill. I couldn't see the ghost, but the cat saw. Laughter and singing faded away, replaced by the sound of rain pounding the roof and hissing through winter-bare trees outside our windows.

Once Mai relaxed and shut her eyes, I lay back down, heart pounding. Rain had washed away most of the salt ringing the house, weakening Isadora's boundaries and allowing the little girl spirit closer. That she couldn't manifest so strongly as before was a blessing.

And I was doubly grateful to Mr. Sung for his gift of Mai, no matter the motive or what hidden intent he'd had. She'd protected Gabe and likely kept the ghost at bay.