A Barricade in Hell (22 page)

The building was a marvel, but the plants and trees the conservatory held were a wonder. Warm, moist air filled the pavilion under the dome, brimming over with the sweet scent of flowers, the spicy smell of ferns, wet leaves, and the dusty odor of tree bark. Bright splashes of color filled planting beds anywhere I looked: deepest reds to brilliant blue, soft shell pinks and sunburst yellow.

Quiet filled the space as well, broken only by the faint trickle of water and the crunch of footfalls on the gravel paths. People spoke as they moved past the lily ponds and admired trailing orchids, but the sound was swallowed by the dome overhead, muffled by flower petals and leaves. If I'd closed my eyes, I might have thought us the only people there.

Dora and I made our way down the wing off to the right, settling on a bench near a cluster of orange trees for our picnic. Fat yellow and black bumblebees flitted from blossom to blossom, intent on gathering orange nectar and pollen, ignoring us. We covered the bench with a red-checkered cloth and set out the food.

The chicken was still warm; a matter I decided was best left unremarked. I'd learned not to question many things involving Isadora Bobet.

Isadora was positively beaming when we'd finished eating. “This is utterly delightful. I can see why you loved coming to the conservatory with your father. Next time let's see if we can bring Sadie and the baby.”

“If we make plans in advance, Gabe and Jack can come as well. Maybe in early spring when the roses begin to bloom, but before most of the tourists arrive.” She'd forgotten my case of nerves concerning Sadie and the baby, but I hoped by spring I'd have no reason to be nervous. I finished packing leftovers back into the picnic hamper, full and content. “I'd love to show Gabe the spots my father set up his easel and tell him about watching Papa paint. Papa loved the rose gardens best of all, so spring would be perfect.”

Something soft and warm twined around my ankles, startling me and making my heart race. I started to jerk my leg away, but stopped just in time. A tiny gray kitten, no more than nine or ten weeks old, peered out from under the edge of my skirts.

“Oh dear … where did you come from?” I scooped the kitten up, confirming my guess she was a little girl, and held her at eye level. Golden green eyes gazed into mine, utterly trusting and fearless. “You shouldn't be out here all alone.”

Dora scratched behind the kitten's ear with a long red nail. “It's entirely possible she wandered away from her mother. A warm, sheltered place would be just the spot a mother cat would find for her litter. But the more likely scenario is that someone didn't want her and she's been abandoned. Not everyone is fond of cats, Dee. She's lucky you found her.”

“Or perhaps she was looking for you.” An older Chinese man, wearing a brown serge suit and a bowler hat, stood on the path a few feet away, leaning on his cane and watching us. Two heavyset Chinese men stood behind him, both of them taller and younger, and dressed in cheap-looking black trousers and coats. The older man smiled. “If so, you are indeed favored. We tell children the story of Yifan Zhang, the Cat Goddess, and how she led an army of cats to restore righteousness to the emperor's kingdom. She will bring luck to your house and help ward off evil spirits, Mrs. Ryan.”

“How do you know my name?” I pulled the kitten close, feeling a need to defend my claim to her. Her soft gray fur tickled my neck and she began to purr loudly.

Dora stood, visibly agitated to anyone who knew her, and likely to those who didn't. She folded her arms, the fingers on one hand tapping an angry rhythm against her elbow. “I'd like to hear the answer to that. How do you know Mrs. Ryan's name?”

“My apologies. I didn't mean to frighten you. Forgive me, Miss Bobet, Mrs. Ryan.” He bowed. “My name is Sung Wing. Captain Ryan and his partner visited me at my business in Chinatown. They're searching for the people who killed my brother and his granddaughter.”

“Captain Ryan told us about the case and what happened to your family, Mr. Sung. Your family's death is a tragedy, but that still doesn't explain how you knew Delia's name—nor mine, for that matter. And since I've a fairly good idea of who and what you are, I need to hear that explanation.” Dora took a step closer, not at all pacified. “Try again.”

“Isadora Bobet is well known in Chinatown. Stories about you taking an apprentice, a police captain's wife, spread quickly. A teacher and her apprentice spend much of their time together. I guessed at who the little cat had chosen.” Mr. Sung smiled, appearing not at all put out by Dora's being so forward. “Wu Mai was my teacher and spoke of you often. She considered you an equal, worthy of friendship and respect. I'd be foolish not to do the same.”

“You'd be foolish to underestimate me, yes.” Dora's stance softened, but only slightly. “I had a great deal of respect for Mai. Since I'm committed to helping Captain Ryan solve his more difficult cases, one could say you and I are on the same side. I'm sure that's as strange for you as it is for me. Hopefully we can remain cordial.”

Mr. Sung bowed deeply. “That is my hope, Miss Bobet. We both seek to find these people for our own reasons. I've sent my niece's ghost on to our ancestors, but my brother's spirit is lost to us. I need to find Liang's ghost so he can rest.”

The little cat snuggled tight against me. Her purring echoed in my chest, vibrated in my bones. I was taking her home, no matter how she came to me. That much about my day was certain. “Is that why you followed us, Mr. Sung? To ask for help in finding your brother's ghost?”

“My being here is a fortunate accident, Mrs. Ryan. I was on my way home from a business meeting and while passing the park, I asked my driver to stop.” Sung Wing gestured toward the orange trees and the lily ponds with his cane. “I come here often. This place reminds me of my grandmother's garden in China. I was only five when my father brought our family to San Francisco, but I remember grandmother's house smelled of orange blossoms.”

One of the younger men with Mr. Sung leaned toward him and quietly said something in Chinese. Mr. Sung answered, his reply sounding crisp, abrupt. The younger man scowled and began speaking rapidly, his irritation obvious even if I couldn't understand what was said. Dora's curious expression was doubtless a twin for my own.

A snapped word from Mr. Sung ended the strange argument. The younger man's anger drained away, his face pale and sweating heavily. He whispered a few words, bowing again and again before turning and walking toward the entrance.

Mr. Sung turned back to us. “Forgive me. Li doesn't think I'm safe here and wants me to go back to Chinatown. I had to make it clear that I'm not ready to leave.” His smile was touched with regret. “Li is young. He hasn't learned that always doing the safe thing can feel like a cage. Safe or not, a man must step outside his cage once in a while.”

Dora raised an eyebrow. “Do you have that many enemies, Sung Wing? Mai would be disappointed.”

“Not so many that her spirit would return to scold me, Miss Bobet. Any man in my position acquires enemies, but Li doesn't fear them. He's afraid that those who killed my brother will come back and take me as well.”

I unbuttoned the first button of my coat and tugged off my scarf with one hand, with an eye toward wrapping the kitten in soft wool before leaving the greenhouse. “That seems like a reasonable thing to fear, Mr. Sung.”

“Perhaps.” He stared across the lily pond. Frogs leapt between flat green leaves the size of dinner plates, or dove into the water, but I didn't think Mr. Sung saw. “But first I'd have to believe Liang's killers knew he was my brother or mistook him for me. And I don't believe, Mrs. Ryan. They slaughtered my brother for reasons of their own.”

Dora frowned and looked away for an instant, staring toward the entrance. She shook herself and took the picnic basket. “We should go, Dee. There's a lot to prepare before the boys arrive for supper.”

“Give me a moment.” I wrapped the kitten in the pale blue scarf, swaddling her in layers to keep out the chill wind and the damp. Only her head showed in the cocoon I'd made for her, but she didn't appear to care. If anything, she purred louder. “There. She should be warm enough now for the car ride home.”

Mr. Sung stepped forward, a hand extended for the kitten to sniff his fingers. A tiny pink tongue licked his thumb and he smiled. “What will you name her?”

“I hadn't thought yet.” I looked to Dora and back into the kitten's eyes. “Finding the right name is important.”

Someone opened a door at the far end of the greenhouse, sending a gust of cold wind roaring from one end of the conservatory to the other. Glass tiles overhead rattled, rivaled by the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. Interwoven with the wind's voice, faint and very far away, I thought I heard a little girl singing.

The kitten lifted her head, eyes tracking the passage of the wind, and growled. Such a deep, fierce sound coming from a tiny ball of gray fluff was amusing. I should have laughed and thought no more of it. Instead my heart sped up as my eyes strained to see what this tiny cat saw.

Dora shivered and pulled her wrap tighter, but all she'd noticed was the cold creeping into our warm haven, not my reaction to a stray breeze. But Mr. Sung saw.

He reached out and scratched the kitten's ears, smoothing down ruffled fur on the top of her head until she began to purr again. “Even the smallest cat is born with a hunter's spirit. This one believes she's a tiger.”

Wrapping her in my scarf was certainly enough for the short walk to the car, but I pulled the front of my coat around her as well. The degree that I worried about keeping this tiny cat out of the wind likely bordered on insanity. “Too bad she doesn't resemble a tiger. Naming her would be miles easier then, if not very imaginative.”

“There is an old story that says if you listen closely, a cat will whisper its name in your ear.” The twinkle in Mr. Sung's eye gave the lie to his solemn expression. “She will give you her name, Mrs. Ryan.”

With that, Mr. Sung tipped his hat and walked away, his young guard following close behind. Dora and I watched until he was out of sight.

Dora started for the exit and I followed at her heels. She put on her public face, cheerful and appearing as if she didn't have a care in the world. I knew better. She was as mystified by our encounter with Sung Wing as I.

At the entrance, Isadora stopped and looked back down the path we'd just come from. Searching for Mr. Sung or one of his men. The vacant expression she'd worn disappeared, replaced by speculation. “Well, well … I wonder what that was all about.”

“Mr. Sung?” I held the door for Dora, stepping back so she could maneuver the picnic basket past an older couple going inside. “I don't have the first idea. But I'm not at all convinced his being here at the same time was a coincidence. I find it very difficult to believe.”

“So do I, Dee. He wants something.”

The brisk wind shuttled rain clouds toward the East Bay hills, piling gray swirls against the slope until the clouds overhead grew thick and dark. Raindrops splattered intermittently on sidewalks and spotted the dust-dry mulch blanketing flower beds. We walked even faster, attempting to reach the car before the rain began in earnest.

We sprinted the last few yards to the car. Nathan waited next to the passenger door, rain dripping off the brim of his chauffer's cap and beginning to soak his uniform, his manner as stiff and unbending as ever. He handed us into the car without uttering a word.

The big car pulled away from the curb and Dora peeled off her hat, shaking beads of rain off the silk. “I've been thinking about our encounter with Sung Wing. I don't for a moment believe the most powerful tong leader in Chinatown just happened to be taking a stroll through the conservatory during our picnic. That he's a sorcerer as well makes me even more suspicious. Sorcerers always have a reason for anything they do.”

“So do certain spiritualists of my acquaintance.” That made Dora smile, but teasing her didn't quiet my nerves about why he'd seek us out. “Seriously, what do you think he wanted?”

She stared out the rain-streaked window before turning back to answer. “At first I thought he wanted information. He probably believes that the two of us are privy to all the details of Gabe's cases, including his brother's murder investigation. But the more I thought, the less likely that seemed. Sung Wing is too savvy and experienced to think we'd reveal those details in casual conversation. Then I remembered. He appeared just as you found the cat.”

“You think he had something to do with my finding the kitten?” I'd transferred her from inside my coat to my lap, unwrapping the scarf to make a warm nest. She was curled up sleeping, one paw covering her eyes. “Whatever for?”

“The timing of his arrival is awfully suspicious, Dee. I may very well be wrong, but yes, I think he may have brought the cat with him. As for why?” Dora shrugged and took her cigarettes out of her handbag. She lit one, inhaling deeply before going on. “Mai told me that story about the Cat Goddess. We were sitting above the restaurant her family ran, drinking tea in her parlor. Mai owned half a dozen cats, and there were always kittens running loose. She offered to give me one, but Daniel had already brought the blasted parrot home. I distinctly remember all her cats were the same pearly gray as the little one sleeping in your lap.”

“He brought me one of Mai's cats.” Dora nodded, but the last of my doubts had already fled. I stroked the kitten's head, unsure if where she'd come from made a difference anymore. She belonged with me. “Mr. Sung must have a reason, but for the life of me, I can't think of what that might be.”

“You're still too much the innocent at times, Delia. I haven't managed to bleed that out of you yet.” She cranked down the car window a crack, flicking her half-smoked cigarette out into the rain. “Unfortunately, I can think of far too many reasons, most of which don't put Sung Wing in a very good light. But because this kitten appears to have come from Mai's household, I'm inclined to think he meant well.”