A Barricade in Hell (29 page)

I drifted back to sleep slowly, convinced that guarding Gabe from harmful spirits may have been Mr. Sung's plan all along.

 

CHAPTER 18

Gabe

Gabe rocked back in his chair, frowning at the pair of typed lists sitting side by side on his desk. Staring at columns of names all morning wasn't going reveal secret connections to Effie Fontaine. Hoping for and actually finding an association between the missing people on his list and Fontaine's organization were two different things.

And even if he'd found a link, that wouldn't stop Isadora and Delia from attending Miss Fontaine's lecture on Friday. Their arguments still held true.

He'd been lucky to get his wife and Dora to agree to wait a week, both to let some time pass after Archie Baldwin's death, and for him to try to discover which of the men he could trust. Gabe's stomach churned each time he walked through the station. He hated looking at the men passing him with suspicion, wondering. Hated having to come in to work each day, pretending nothing was wrong.

A quick rap on the door was all the warning he had before Jack waltzed in, a bakery bag in hand and whistling gaily. Jack was better at pretending.

Pretense ended once the office door was closed again. His partner pulled a bulging file folder from under his jacket and dropped it on the desk. “These are the personnel files for Eli Marsh, Thomas Walsh, and John Luther. All of them transferred over from Pearson's squad in the last six months. Marsh and Luther made the move just after Bradley Wells was murdered. Walsh came over the month before.”

Gabe flipped open the file, skimming through the pages rapidly. “All three joined the force at about the same time two years ago. It doesn't say so here, but I'd guess they were rookies together in Fade Pearson's station. No commendations or disciplinarily notes for any of them, no special training or performance evaluations on past assignments.” He read a few more pages and shut the file again. “No notations about sick leave or being late for a shift either. When was the last time you saw a two-year-old personnel file without a single note?”

“As I recall, Sergeant Marsh was leaving bons mots in our files in less than a month.” Jack ripped open the bakery bag, revealing waxed paper–wrapped ham sandwiches and a half-dozen sugar cookies. He dragged over the visitor's chair and took a seat. “I knew we wouldn't make it out for lunch. Don't let Annie know I'm eating bakery cookies. She wouldn't speak to me for the next month.”

“Annie wouldn't forgive me either.” He took a bite of salty ham and thick sourdough bread, eating because he needed food but not really tasting anything. “So we have three cops that started in Pearson's squad, all with spotless official records. Or no record, depending on how you look at their files.”

Jack shrugged. “No record is closer to the truth. That doesn't mean the three of them are clean. And you haven't heard the best part. I double-checked the duty rosters. Marsh and Luther were both collecting meal trays the day Archie died.”

“The trick now is to figure out if three San Francisco cops got bought by Effie Fontaine. And when. Marshall hasn't had any luck trying to make friends with Marsh or Luther. He says Eli Marsh cuts him dead if he tries to strike up a conversation in passing.” Eating food he couldn't taste was about as appealing as gnawing on the file in front of him. Gabe took another bite anyway, chewing methodically and thinking. “What about the taverns? Did Marshall or Randy turn up more names?”

Henderson and Dodd had gone out dressed in street clothes every night for the last week, visiting small cafés in working-class neighborhoods and dockside taverns where they weren't known. Trying to find more of Effie Fontaine's tracks.

“Not yet.” Jack divided the cookies between them, giving Gabe two and keeping four for himself. Not much affected his partner's appetite. “A few rumors, but nothing solid. Marshall had one place he wanted to visit again tonight. One of the men sweeping up started to talk to them, but the owner yelled for him to stop wasting time and get back to work. He wouldn't talk to them again after that. I guess the old man was scared of losing his job.”

“Tell Henderson and Dodd to keep at it. It's only a matter of time before we get lucky and she makes a mistake.” Gabe brushed crumbs off his lap. He flicked a few more off the personnel file before slipping the folder into the deep, bottom desk drawer. His mouth twisted into a thin, bitter line. “I'm looking forward to that day. I'll sleep better at night knowing she's locked up.”

Jack tipped his head to the side, a quizzical expression on his face. “I don't think I've ever seen you react to a suspect this way. You really don't like Effie Fontaine.”

Gabe rocked back in the desk chair.. “The truth is that Fontaine sets my teeth on edge and makes my skin crawl at the same time. Even more so after what Dora's told me. Aside from all that, she's made this personal, Jack. Effie Fontaine's first mistake was storming into my office making demands and thinking she could intimidate me. A bigger mistake was having Archie Baldwin murdered in my jail.”

Jack looked at the half-eaten cookie in his hand and set it aside. “Has Sal finished Archie's autopsy report yet?”

“I spoke to him last night. He apologized for taking so long, but he had other cases ahead of Archie's, and there were some things he needed to be sure about. I'm hoping that means he found evidence we can use to link Fontaine or someone working for her to Archie's murder.” He held the trash can up, and Jack dumped the last of the debris from lunch inside. “He wouldn't tell me over the phone either. You know how Sal is. He promised to bring the final report over late this afternoon. If something comes up, he promised to call and let me know.”

A knock at the door made Gabe's heart race. He traded looks with Jack and swept all the papers on his desktop into his desk drawer. Locking the drawer left him feeling foolish, but that didn't change the fact they needed to keep what little they'd discovered secret. The last time they talked about Effie Fontaine, she'd walked into his office. He couldn't take the chance.

Lon Rockwell's voice called out, adding to Gabe's moment of déjà vu. “Captain Ryan? You have a visitor, sir.”

“Christ Almighty, Gabe.” Jack eyed the blurred silhouettes glimpsed through the glass in the door and kept his voice low. “Maybe Dora's right, and saying Effie Fontaine's name summons her.”

“You shouldn't believe everything Dora tells you. It's not her. Fontaine's not reckless enough to show up here again, not after what happened to Baldwin.” And Effie Fontaine had made her point the first time, driving home the fact she was untouchable. Or that she thought she was. Gabe straightened his shirt cuffs and buttoned his jacket before coming around to stand in front of the desk. “Come in, Rockwell.”

He was right; the person ushered into his office wasn't Gabe's prime murder suspect. A tall, rawboned young man with sandy blond hair and an engaging smile stood just behind Rockwell. Dressed in a new-looking straw boater hat, white shirt, and a tan suit that had seen better days, the stranger had light green eyes that swept what he could see of the office from the doorway, seeming to take in everything at once.

Rockwell nodded toward the man in the hallway. “Captain Ryan, this is Samuel Clemens Butler. Mr. Butler is a reporter for the
Call
and he wants to speak with you and the lieutenant. Normally I wouldn't have brought him back, but he says he has information on one of your cases. I can show him out again if you're too busy to speak with him.”

“He can stay for now. Go back to the front lobby, Rockwell.” Gabe sat on the corner of the desk, arms folded over his chest, sizing up the young reporter. “I'll call you when I need you to escort him out.”

Rockwell nodded and turned to leave, squeezing past Butler and giving him a dubious look. Samuel Butler stood just inside the door, barely acknowledging the big officer's presence—or anyone else's, for that matter. He was too busy gawking. Butler's eyes swept the room again. Gabe guessed he was looking for anything that might make good copy.

Locking everything away didn't feel so foolish now. Gabe cleared his throat. “Come all the way inside, Mr. Butler, and shut the door. Sal Rosen said you'd been asking questions about me down at the morgue.”

“The deputy coroner got that wrong, Captain.” Butler closed the door and stood square in front of it, appearing relaxed and at ease. “Asking about unsolved cases isn't the same as asking questions about you. Not unless you and Lieutenant Fitzgerald are the only detectives in the city with unsolved murder cases. If so, you've got a lot bigger problems than my asking questions.”

Gabe had dealt with a lot of reporters in his years on the force. Butler was cocky and overconfident, but he was young too, probably no more than twenty-two or twenty-three. Growing older had a way of deflating cocky young men. “I don't have a lot of time to spare, so let me get right to the point, Mr. Butler. Lieutenant Fitzgerald and I don't share details of our cases with the press. I'm afraid coming here was a waste of your time.”

Butler flashed a toothy grin. “And that's where you're wrong, Captain. I didn't come here looking for information. I came to share what I've dug up on Effie Ladia Fontaine. A very interesting woman.” He stuck his long hands deep into his trouser pockets and strolled over to the bulletin board, looking over the newspaper clippings pinned there. The smile was gone when he turned around again. “Dangerous as hell, but interesting.”

Jack frowned and moved around to the front of the desk to stand near Gabe. “Who told you we want information about Miss Fontaine?”

“Word gets around. For starters, you have men asking about her in every tavern up and down the waterfront. And according to my informants, she came to your office and told you to call off your dogs. Given what I know about her, my guess is that something you're doing makes her nervous. At the very least, you got her attention.” Butler sat sideways on the visitor's chair, one arm draped casually across the back. “Don't try to give me the bum's rush, Lieutenant. I've been in San Francisco for months, tracking down information about Fontaine and waiting for my chance. This is it. I want her stopped even more than you do.”

“All right, Mr. Butler.” Gabe went back to his chair, his curiosity aroused. The nod from Jack was slight and easily missed by anyone who didn't know him, but he'd learned to read his partner years ago. “We'll hear you out. Why don't you start with explaining why you think Effie Fontaine is dangerous.”

“You've met her, Captain. Do I really have to explain?” Butler turned to face them, his casual demeanor replaced by one that was tense and completely earnest. “Two years ago, I was living in Upstate New York and working on my uncle's newspaper. I helped him set type, wrote obituaries, and helped deliver papers three days a week. Uncle Walter hadn't opened the office one Saturday morning, so I went by the house to check on him. My cousin Rose had gone to a meeting in the church hall the night before. Rose never came home. My uncle was out looking for her.”

“A meeting?” Jack's tone was impatient, pressing Butler. “What kind of a meeting?”

“Lieutenant Fitzgerald.” Gabe didn't take his eyes off Samuel Butler's face, but the warning note in his voice was clear enough. Jack was the best interrogator on the force, able to put witnesses at ease with only a few words. Attacking Butler showed how far off his game Jack was. “Let Mr. Butler finish his story.”

Jack looked at Gabe, startled, and his eyes widened at the realization of how badly he'd misstepped. “My apologies, Mr. Butler. I shouldn't have interrupted. Go on.”

Butler waved the apology away. “We're all in the business of asking questions. That's our job. The meeting Rose attended was a talk on the dangers of the United States becoming involved in the European war.”

Gabe's hands clenched into fists. “Let me guess: Effie Fontaine was the speaker.”

“Good guess, Captain. She'd made arrangements to speak at the church hall four nights running. Rosie went all four nights.” Grief flashed across Butler's face. “That was the first I'd heard of Fontaine. It was far from the last.”

“I'm sure it wasn't.” Gabe straightened the stack of duty rosters on the corner of his desk, suddenly unable to sit still. Fontaine had been giving her lectures for two years. For two years, people had not come home afterwards.
Two years.
The urge to hit something, anything, was almost overwhelming, but he couldn't give in to that. He aligned the corners on the stack of files, waiting for the need to lash out to pass. “What happened to your cousin?”

“Rose and one other girl, Cassie Adams, disappeared on Friday night. My uncle and the sheriff organized a search party and questioned everyone who'd been at the meeting. No one even remembered seeing Rosie.” Butler took off his hat and slicked his hair back, anger glittering in his eyes. “There was a traveling carnival set up on the edge of town that same week. Fontaine suggested that maybe the girls had lied about where they were going and had gone to the carnival instead. I was there when the sheriff questioned Miss Fontaine. I kept watching her, wondering why the hair on the back of my neck stood up. And I
knew
Fontaine was lying. I knew it.”

“Mother of God.” Jack traded looks with Gabe. “Did they ever find your cousin?”

Butler set his hat on his lap. “The sheriff's men never found a trace of Rosie. She just vanished. Cassie's body turned up in an old barn less than half a mile from the carnival. They arrested one of the carnies for her murder. Fontaine left town and went back to New York City the next morning.”

Gabe rocked back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Thinking. “And you've kept track of Fontaine ever since.”