Rebecca Hagan Lee (19 page)

At the moment, Will needed to figure out a way to extricate himself from Madam Harpy’s unwanted attentions.

“The law not bother with Li Toy.” She smiled at Will, showing her betel nut–stained teeth. “Li Toy has law in her sleeve.”

Will met her smile with one of his own. If she noticed his smile was forced, she didn’t show it. “I am relieved to hear it.”

“You be at auction, Keegan,” she instructed. “You buy new girls.”

“I bought seven at the last auction,” he protested.

Madam Harpy giggled. “You buy more. Make Li Toy rich.”

“You’re already rich.”

She giggled again. “Make Li Toy richer.”

* * *

I
T TOOK A FEW MORE MINUTES TO EXCUSE HIMSELF, BUT
Will finally managed to leave the Lotus Blossom. He had originally planned to go directly to Craig Capital, Ltd., but observing Li Toy had given him an idea. He had an errand to run before he made his weekly meeting with Pete Malcolm at the company’s San Francisco office a day later than usual.

Will wound his way through the narrow streets to his destination, completed his task in good fashion, then walked two blocks to Montgomery Street, hired a closed cab, and instructed the driver to take a roundabout route to Craig Capital, where he made it to his office in time for a meeting he’d requested with Peter Malcolm.

Peter Malcolm met him in the foyer and the two men shook hands. “Good morning, Mr. Keegan. I received Jack’s message and got started right away.”

“Were you able to locate the documents I requested?” Will asked without preamble. He’d been away from the Silken Angel for close to three hours, and he was eager to conclude his business and get back to check on Julia Jane. He wanted to be there for Dr. Stone’s visit.

“I have them ready for you to review,” Malcolm told him as they walked down the marble hall toward Will’s office. “They’re on your desk.”

“Did you review them?”

“Briefly,” Malcolm said. “I went over the financial statements. But I thought we would go over them together.” He opened the door to Will’s office and ushered his boss inside.

“How many times have we extended the loan?” Will picked up the stack of papers on his desk, then walked around behind it and pulled out his chair. He hadn’t been in the office in over a week and Will was struck by how different it felt to be there. Everything ran smoothly at Craig Capital. After the hustle and bustle of the Silken Angel, it was hard to imagine that he’d once thrived in the quiet, serene atmosphere of this office, where the excitement of the day was the routine accumulation of money and assets.

“Six.”

Sitting down on his comfortable desk chair, Will began to read, searching the documents for the particulars of the agreement. It was there in section three, paragraph four. Will breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted to right a wrong, but it had to be done legally.

“Did you send word to Phillip Iverson that he was in arrears with his payments?” Will asked.

Malcolm nodded. “We’ve sent notices for the past three months warning him that the note would not be renewed for a sixth time without a payment or partial payment from him.”

“Did you inform him that we are calling the note as of today?”

“Yes. I sent a copy of Mr. O’Brien’s suggestions to Mr. Iverson and the manager, and I wired notice to Iverson two days ago.”

“Have we received payment?” Will looked up from the documents he was reading and over at Malcolm.

“No.”

“Have we received any communication from Iverson? Any effort to enact Jack’s suggestions or to meet his obligations?”

Malcolm shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir.”

Will frowned. “According to his financial statement, the business is turning a handsome profit, yet he’s made no attempt to pay us what he owes. It doesn’t make sense. Unless . . .” He flipped through several pages to the investigator’s report. “Ahh, here it is.” He looked over at Malcolm. “Mr. Iverson is low on cash. It seems he’s been speculating on Wall Street and he’s suffered a reversal of fortune. There’s a recommendation that we not renew the note, because Mr. Iverson is no longer a good risk.” The written recommendation was signed by Jack O’Brien and dated six months earlier. Will handed the pages over to Malcolm to review and witness. “Draw up the necessary documents transferring ownership, Pete. Post the notices in the
Chronicle
. I’ll call a meeting of the employees for the end of the week so we can evaluate the staff and decide whom to keep and whom to release.”

Malcolm nodded in agreement. “Do you want me to wire Mr. Craig?”

“No,” Will told him. “I’ll do it.”

“Have you a buyer in mind?” Malcolm inquired.

“Me,” Will explained. “I’m the buyer.”

Will’s announcement surprised him. “You?”

“Yes,” Will confirmed. “Unless Jamie decides to take it off my hands and keep it as a Craig Capital asset. Meanwhile, I’m buying it for personal reasons, and I’m paying the fair market value, plus another ten percent. Calculate the amount and pay Craig Capital from my personal account.”

“But, Will—I mean, Mr. Keegan,” Malcolm protested, “you’re a partner. The property can be yours for the payoff of the note, plus the Craig Capital commission. If you do it the way you suggested, you’ll be paying more than necessary.”

“I know, Pete.” Will appreciated Malcolm’s concern and his honest assessment of the transaction. “But I want it this way. Send word to me at this address when the paperwork is done.” He handed Malcolm a slip of paper with his mailing address written on it. “I’ll come in and sign it.”

“All right, Mr. Keegan.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malcolm, for your expertise in this matter, and for your diligent stewardship of Craig Capital, Ltd.” He offered his hand to Pete, and Malcolm took it in a firm handshake.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Keegan. Thanks for the opportunity.”

After bidding farewell to his manager at Craig Capital’s San Francisco operation, Will hailed a cab. He had more errands to run and business calls to make before he would be free to return to the Silken Angel and the girl who waited upstairs in his bed.

Chapter Twenty-two

“Pray that you will never have to bear all that you are able to endure.”

—JEWISH PROVERB

J
ack O’Brien delivered Julie’s breakfast tray Wednesday morning. She looked up when he opened the door to Will’s bedroom and was clearly disappointed to see him instead of Will.

Pushing herself up against the headboard, Julie ran her left hand through her hair, combing the tangles in a self-conscious gesture. “Where’s Will?”

Jack smiled. “Good morning to you, too.”

Julie had the grace to blush, the color more visible now that the worst of her bruises had gone from crimson red to a lighter shade of bluish purple. “Good morning, Jack,” she said. “I apologize for my rudeness.” She smoothed the wrinkles from the covers at her side. “But Will usually brings my breakfast.”

“Apology accepted.” Jack brought the tray to the bed and set it on Julie’s lap. He took the cover off the plate of food, then handed her a napkin and arranged her cutlery, placing it within her reach, along with a mug of tea.

The smell of fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, pan-fried potatoes, and a light-as-air biscuits made her mouth water.

“I brought your tea in a mug,” Jack told her. “I imagine you prefer a teacup and saucer, but I thought this would be easier for you to manage. One lump or two?”

Julie saw that Jack had placed a small container of cream on the tray and several lumps of sugar on a saucer. “One, please,” she replied. “And a bit of cream.” She was thankful for the tea. Yesterday Will had brought a rather strong mug of coffee with her breakfast.

He added cream and sugar to her tea and handed her the mug.

She took a grateful sip. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Jack nodded. “You’re welcome.” He watched Julie enjoying her tea and added, “Will left for a couple of early morning meetings—one of which is at the Russ House. If you would like, I can send your key over to him so he can retrieve some of your personal belongings.”

She brightened. “That would be wonderful.” Reaching up, she took the key to room six from around her neck and handed it to Jack. “The key to the other room is in the pocket of my trousers.” She looked up at Jack, then took a deep breath. “Tell him I hid money in the pole of the headboard in room eight.”

Jack nodded. “Will would have asked you for the keys to both rooms himself, but you were sleeping and he didn’t want to wake you. He asked me to see to your breakfast tray and take care of anything you might need.”

Julie was able to make it to the washroom and the water closet on her own to tend to her urgent needs, but dressing in anything other than one of Will’s dress shirts and his robe was impossible. She couldn’t manage her bandages, bind her breasts, or don her corset on her own, and Julie couldn’t bring herself to ask Will or Jack to help her. And she was in desperate need of a bath, but without help that was beyond her capabilities as well. She was bored, and sick of her own company. Embarrassed, she glanced up at Jack from beneath her lashes. “I could use a bath and something to wear, if you can spare someone to help me.”

Jack frowned. “I don’t have anyone here who can help you. I’ll be happy to draw you a bath, but . . .” He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I . . .” He sputtered to a stop. He and Will had taken care of her while she was unconscious, but she was awake now, and the situation was different.

Julie blushed again. “I understand.”

“The doctor is coming to check on you this morning,” Jack told her. “Maybe he can . . .”

“I would rather he didn’t,” Julie replied. She didn’t remember the doctor. To her, he was a stranger. Will Keegan and Jack O’Brien might consider him trustworthy and a friend, but Julie intended to reserve judgment until she met him. “I would prefer to bathe before he gets here.”

“After you eat your breakfast, I’ll set a basin with warm water, soap, and a face flannel out for you to take a sponge bath,” Jack offered, knowing it wasn’t as satisfying as taking a real bath, but it was the best he could offer.

“I would be grateful.” Julie gave him a genuine smile and began to eat her breakfast. A sponge bath was better than nothing, but she longed for the real thing. “If only Zhing were here . . .” She didn’t realize she’d given voice to the thought until Jack repeated the name.

“Zhing?”
He was curious.

“Zhing Wu,” Julie clarified. “She works at Wu’s Gum Saan Laundry. We became friends when she came to collect laundry at the mission. She helped me with my laundry girl disguise.”

Jack was thoughtful. “Would she come here if I sent someone to get her?”

“Who does your laundry?” Julie finished her bacon and eggs and drank more of her tea.

“The Market Street Laundry,” Jack replied. “Why?”

“Zhing works for her father-in-law,” Julie explained. “He wouldn’t allow her to come unless it’s worth his while.”

“So she’d need to be paid for her time,” Jack concluded.

“Either in cash or laundry to wash.”

“We can manage that.” Jack refilled her mug from the small teapot on the tray, added a lump of sugar and a splash of cream to it, then collected her dirty plate and cutlery. “You and Will have gone through his shirts at an alarming rate.” He smiled at Julie. “Do you think your friend would be interested in doing Will’s laundry?”

Julie nodded.

“Should I send a note to her at Wu’s laundry asking her to come here?” Jack asked. “Or should I send a runner to fetch her?”

“She cannot read,” Julie explained. “And today is Wednesday, so Zhing is out collecting laundry.” She glanced at the mantel clock. “She should be making her way to the boardinghouses along Jackson Street about now, and from there she’ll go back to Wu’s. If you have a runner you trust, send him to Wu’s and tell him to ask Zhing if she would be willing to make a most profitable collection at the Silken Angel Saloon for Jie Li. Ask her to come as soon as possible.” She described Zhing Wu to Jack. “Please ask your runner not to frighten her.”

“Of course.” Jack promised. He already had the man in mind for the job—one of the Denver Pinkertons currently standing guard downstairs, a young man named Seth Hammond whom his brother, Murphy, had recommended as smart, dedicated, and trustworthy. “Will you be all right by yourself while I go downstairs and make the arrangements?”

Julie glanced around the room, gauging the distances she would have to negotiate to reach the necessary and the washroom and the sitting area. “Yes.”

“Can I trust you not to try to leave or to damage anything while I’m gone?”

Julie was surprised. “I wouldn’t dream of repaying your kindness or Will’s kindnesses by damaging any more of his property. And even if I did”—she gave him a self-deprecating shrug—“I don’t have a parasol, and I’m in no condition to swing one.”

“No insult intended,” Jack told her, “but I’m to look out for you when Will’s gone, and I can’t be in two places at once. Nobody else knows you’re up here, and Will would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”

Julie did her best not to sound too eager, but she couldn’t contain her curiosity where Will Keegan was concerned. She wanted to know everything about him. “Why do you say that, Mr. O’Brien?”

“My name is Jack, remember, and I said it because it’s true. Will didn’t go to all the trouble and expense to help you and keep you safe just to have me allow you to slip out and come to more harm.” Jack pinned her with a hard look.

“I gave you my word.”

“You gave Will your word you wouldn’t come back here singing and smashing, and now we’re missing the front plate-glass window.” Jack hadn’t meant to be accusatory, but the words were out before he could stop them.

Julie knew what he said was true, but having Jack bring it up again when she was confined to bed and unable to do anything about it stung. “I promised to pay for the window,” Julie reminded him. “And I will. The money I hid should be enough. I can pay Zhing and the doctor, and reimburse Will for the window.”

Jack raked his fingers through his hair, frustrated by her lack of understanding of the larger scope of the danger all around them. “And the team of men we’ve had to hire to guard the place around the clock until the new window is installed? Are you going to pay for them, too?”

“What?”

She looked so stricken, Jack swore beneath his breath at his uncharacteristic bluntness and lack of manners, and immediately began to apologize. “Forgive me for being rude and tactless. I’m afraid my exhaustion is showing.” He gave her a half smile. “There’s no need for you to worry about anything. Will can well afford the window, the doctor, the Pi—the guards, and anything else that might come up.” He paused. “I’m usually the soul of discretion, but you need to understand that this thing with Li Toy and her hired policeman isn’t only about you. You may be her primary target at the moment, but you aren’t the only one. And Will has been so concerned with protecting you, taking care of you, that he’s let down his guard. He’s not looking out for himself.”

“He’s a member of the San Francisco Saloon and Bordello Owners’ Association,” Julie said. “He and Li Toy are associates. Why does he need to be on his guard?”

Jack shot her a disgusted look. “And here I thought you were a clever girl. . . .” He clucked his tongue. “Haven’t you ever heard the old saying, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?”

“Is that what he’s doing?” Julie asked.

Jack sighed. “You figure it out. I’ve said too much already.”

“You’re a good friend to him,” Julie said softly.

“I try to be,” Jack said. “But I’m afraid I’m bungling it badly right now, and I’d prefer not to have anything—especially a young woman—damage our friendship. We’ve known each other too long and too well for that.”

“How long?” Julie asked.

She expected him to say he and Will were lifelong friends, so she was a bit taken back at Jack’s answer. “Since he hired me. Four years ago.” Opening the bedroom door, Jack set the breakfast tray on the floor in the hall outside to collect on his way out. When he finished, he filled the washbasin with water and laid out soap, face cloth, and towels for her. “In case you need it before the doctor arrives.”

“I didn’t realize the Silken Angel Saloon had been here four years.”

“It hasn’t,” Jack told her. “I worked with Will at his previous venture. I came with him when he opened the Silken Angel.” He opened the bedroom door. “Now I need to return to work before he fires me.”

“What about Zhing?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Jack told her. “I’m sending word to Will. He’ll go get her.”