A Barricade in Hell (12 page)

And knowing shook him. Ritual killings and stolen ghosts were far beyond the boundaries of normal detective work. He couldn't avoid involving Delia and Isadora now.

Gabe pushed back his chair and stood. “Thank you, Mr. Sung. You've been very helpful. I promise Lieutenant Fitzgerald and I will do everything in our power to bring these killers to justice.”

“Help me find these men, Captain Ryan. We must stop them from killing again.” Mr. Sung swirled the cup and poured the rest of Gabe's tea into a saucer, leaving sodden black leaves coating the bottom and sides. He turned the cup in his hands, peering at the patterns clinging to smooth white porcelain. “Justice will take care of itself.”

Gabe gestured toward the teacup. “Is that what you see in the tea leaves?”

Sung Wing looked up and smiled. “Reading tea leaves is a trick for the tourists. Good day, Captain. Sung Zao will contact you if I learn anything more.”

They'd reached the front door when Sung called out to him.

“Captain Ryan.” The old man still cradled the teacup, his expression grave. “Be careful.”

Gabe touched the brim of his hat and nodded. “You too, Mr. Sung. You too.”

They were back on the main street and headed toward the car before Jack said anything. “Tell me if I'm wrong, Gabe. Mr. Sung wants us to find the murderers so he can have them killed. He's not interested in justice.”

“No, you're not wrong.” He hunched into his coat, attempting to hide from the cold wind burrowing into his bones. Sung Wing might be plotting revenge, but Gabe wouldn't let him get away with it. “Let's get back to the station. Maybe Baldwin's come to his senses.”

 

CHAPTER 8

Delia

Mrs. Allen gave us tea and then insisted on feeding us lunch. She thought it only fair after all the trouble we'd gone to in her behalf. Dora smiled and upheld the conversation, chatting with Katie Allen about what it was like to grow up in Northern England and why she'd come to America. I answered when spoken to, but otherwise I was content to listen.

In actuality, we'd done very little, but there wasn't much we could do. Yet I couldn't shake the sense that we'd deceived her and that, somehow, we should have made good on our promise to end her troubles. I'd feel worse if Mrs. Allen woke tomorrow to find her kitchen a shambles again. All through lunch I'd searched for the slightest sign of ghosts, but the house held no trace of any spirits that Dora or I could roust.

The emptiness was disquieting in light of what Dora had said about demons and ghosts being eaten. Still, I couldn't quell the faint hope all Katie's Allen's problems had ended.

We said our good-byes and went back to the car. Dora adjusted her scarf and eased away from the curb. I did my best to ignore her sidelong glances as she wove around a slow-moving ice wagon blocking the road, a horse-drawn vegetable cart, and a delivery van full of rolled carpets. Ignoring that we were headed downtown instead of home once we'd left Mrs. Allen's neighborhood proved more difficult. “Where are we going?”

“To meet with your husband and Jack at the station. I meant to say something before, but I got caught up talking to Katie. This shouldn't take long.” Even with her driving goggles on, Dora managed to give me a long, measuring look, gauging my reaction. “I spoke with Jack last evening about the Bradley Wells case. Photos of the murder scene are going to be extremely difficult for me to view, doubly so if Gabe is right about occult involvement. Jack understands that handling anything from the crime scene is out of the question. It's much too soon. I promised I'd do my best, but this will be less of an ordeal with your help.”

Dora and I interacted with the spirit realm in different ways. I'd touched ghosts before, felt the instant of death and life leaving their bodies. Even violent death was endurable if the agony was a momentary echo.

Isadora wasn't so fortunate. A victim's pain and suffering lingered long after death, a kind of aura that clung to their clothing, objects they'd touched, or even furnishings that had been in the room when they'd died. That suffering engulfed Dora, forcing her to relive every second of agony before a person's death. Putting myself between her and evidence from a murder investigation spared her the brunt, and left me none the worse for the experience. “You need me to act as a buffer.”

“For some of the evidence, yes. None of it will be pleasant, but I should be able to look at the photographs. Where I'll need your help is if faced with the cloth that covered the body. And I may be forced to that, Dee. After listening to Jack's description of how they found Bradley Wells … I'm afraid Gabe's hunch is right. An element of the occult is involved.” We turned left onto Montgomery and traffic slowed to a crawl. Dora frowned, craning her neck to peer ahead and spot what had caused the delay. “Whether the killers are experienced practitioners or not, the sooner we get this sorted, the better. Just dabbling in rituals can stir up powers best left slumbering. Once set free, containing them again is difficult at best.”

“Like opening Pandora's box.” Traffic moved so slowly, I felt safe loosening my death grip on the door handle. I rubbed feeling back into my hand, shutting fear of the unknown away for later. “And you and I will be in the thick of everything.”

Dora nodded, her smile grim. “Very good, Dee. You do pay attention occasionally. I'd dearly like to be wrong, but I suspect someone has already set things in motion. Once Gabe and Jack discover who is responsible, putting things right in terms of the spirit realm will fall to us.”

Broadway wasn't far ahead and the police station only a few blocks farther along. People had gathered at the intersection with Montgomery, standing on corners and spilling into the street, blocking the roadway. The sound of cheering and music echoed between buildings, and I imagined I heard a few people booing as well. Patrolmen on horseback ranged back and forth at the rear of the crowd.

Other officers rode a ways down Montgomery to speak with motorists, pointing out side streets to either side. Cars turned down the smaller avenues as directed, but some of the drivers shouted back at the policemen, shaking their fists and obviously angry.

Dora watched the mounted officers, eyes alight with curiosity. “How odd. Did Gabe mention anything unusual happening downtown today?”

“No. Not a word. He probably didn't know.” I grasped the top edge of the windscreen and stood, trying in vain to see past stopped cars and over the heads of people blocking the intersection. A gust of wind nearly stole my hat and I took that as a sign to sit down again. “I wonder if it's another peace demonstration. The organizers seldom give advance warning to the police.”

We continued to inch forward. I had to admit to being as curious as Dora to know what was happening. One of the mounted officers, an older man I didn't recognize, approached Dora's car. He frowned at the sight of Dora's goggles, deepening the creases in his sun-browned face, but nonetheless tipped his hat. “Good afternoon, ladies. I'm Patrolman Delano. If you mean to watch the parade, you're too late. Speeches have started already.”

A huge cheer went up from the crowd, followed immediately by a raucous chorus of hisses and boos. Whatever the subject of the speeches, the speaker drew a strong reaction from both supporters and naysayers.

The sun was directly behind Officer Delano, and I was forced to shade my eyes in order to see his face. “We're meeting my husband at his office downtown. Perhaps you could tell us why the way is blocked and suggest an alternate route.”

“Oh yes, please tell us what's happening. I'm about to perish of curiosity.” Dora tipped her head and peered up at him, her smile bright and guileless. “I hope you'd warn us if there was any danger.”

I'd come to gauge a man's strength of character by how completely he succumbed to Isadora's smile, or if he managed to avoid being overcome. Officer Delano was sorely lacking in that regard. He flushed a deep shade of red that crept all the way up under his hat and stammered. “No, no, nothing for you to fret about, miss. Last week it was the pacifists marching up Geary. Today those suffragette girls are making a nuisance of themselves. They've blocked the streets with their floats and speaker's stands.”

She acted the carefree spirit, but Isadora believed passionately in women's suffrage. Sadie and I did as well, and the three of us had attended suffrage pageants together before Stella was born. California had given women the right to vote years before, but the fight still raged in other states. Dora's smile faded. “Really … You don't think women should be allowed to vote, Officer Delano?”

“No, miss, I don't hold with ideas like that. And I won't allow my daughters to vote either. Not while they're still living under my roof.” He pulled his horse around, putting some distance between his mount and the car. “You best be on your way before the crowd breaks up. The next street on the right runs the same as Broadway. It should get you where you're going.”

A storm brewed on Dora's face, one that promised to break over Patrolman Delano if we lingered much longer. I touched her arm. “We really should be on our way. Gabe and Jack are waiting.”

“You're right, we should leave. I've heard enough.” Dora gave Delano a final, chilly glare and shifted the car into gear. She drove around the corner slowly and carefully, a measure of how angry she was. “If we ever have the misfortune to encounter Officer Delano again, remind me to tell him the tale of Pandora's box.”

Dora possessed enormous amounts of knowledge about the world and the evil people were capable of, yet the stubbornness of closed minds continually surprised her. In some ways, I felt more worldly. “Perhaps we should recruit his daughters to instruct him. The lid is already off the box in his household.”

Afternoon clouds were beginning to blow in off the bay, transforming cheerful blue to dismal gray and adding more of a damp chill to the air. Huge vees of brown and black Canada geese, pale snow geese, and pintail ducks flew toward the wetlands around the bay. The leaders' raucous cries were answered by all the birds following behind, a call and response designed to keep any in the flock from becoming lost. Yet lost and alone was how geese always sounded to me, searching endlessly for someone or a place never found.

I pulled the fur collar of my coat up under my chin, determined not to give in to a sudden onset of melancholy. “How did your visit with Sadie go yesterday?”

“Well enough. Sadie's always tired and she's still not up to much socializing in the evenings, but that's to be expected. I cooed and made eyes at the baby while Sadie looked on proudly. The entire time, Stella smiled angelically and did her best to win my affections. She seems to have inherited her mother's irresistible charm.” Dora gave me a sidelong look, the weight of unsaid things in her eyes. “Sadie misses you, Dee. I gathered that Jack and Annie have both tried to smooth things over, but she knows you're avoiding her even if she doesn't understand the reason. To be honest, neither do I.”

“That makes it unanimous. I'm not entirely sure I know why or that I can explain, but staying away seems best for now.” Sadie had taken to motherhood and caring for Stella with the zest she'd once reserved for conquering high society or collecting gossip. She was completely and deliriously happy. I didn't want anything to spoil that for her. “Each time I think about visiting Sadie, I grow uneasy about being near the baby. Telling myself it's foolish and trying to go anyway makes me queasy. I want to see Sadie, and the baby too, for that matter, but I'm afraid to.”

“Afraid?” She gave me a startled look. “Whatever are you afraid of?”

“Disaster.” I tugged my coat tighter around, fingers growing stiff and cold inside my kid gloves. “That I'll be the one to bring tragedy down on Sadie and Jack's heads … or lead calamity to them. And I'm perfectly aware this feeling doesn't make any sense. Knowing hasn't helped in the slightest.”

“This isn't at all like you, Delia.” The corners of her mouth turned down slightly, her usual expression signifying deep thought. “Is this feeling tied to the dreams you told me about earlier?”

“About the little girl? I'm not sure. Let me think.” Placing blame on the small ghost was tempting, but certainty was more important. I tried to remember, going back over the last few times I'd seen Sadie. “The need to stay away came over me gradually. It wasn't as if I woke up one day knowing I should avoid Sadie and the baby. But I can't remember when the dreams started either, not for sure. The two could be tied together.”

“My guess is that one emanates from the other. An unusual amount of spirit activity is centered on you and Gabe right now. And a touch of fear over aspects that you don't understand might be perfectly reasonable and wise.” Dora waved back to a little boy waving from a street corner, her bright expression at odds with our grim conversation. “All things considered, I'm not inclined to dismiss your aversion to seeing Sadie out of hand. I can't say with any certainty that you're jumping at shadows. The strong possibility exists that all this strangeness originates from one source.”

I sighed, shaky and uncertain as any tragic heroine in a dime novel. “If that was meant to reassure me, I think you fell short of the mark. Perhaps I should go back to questioning my own sanity. At least that's familiar ground.”

“You know I won't varnish the truth.” Dora's tone was stern and matter-of-fact, but the amused gleam in her eye spoiled the effect. “We need to look at all the possibilities if we're to ferret out what's really going on. Now, buck up. We still have to deal with the unpleasantness of your husband's murder case. And as long as we're here, I'll attempt to check for any signs of that nasty little ghost's influence on Gabe. He'll be too distracted by your presence to notice a little hocus-pocus on my part.”