Delia's Shadow (6 page)

All that set this letter apart was his name on the envelope, and that the killer laid the responsibility for the couple’s death, and any future victims, at Gabe’s feet.

That he wasn’t really to blame didn’t stop him from brooding.

Jack rapped on the half-open door to get Gabe’s attention. He held up a brown paper grocer’s sack. “Baxter and Henderson found something after we left. A lady’s handbag and a pair of shoes.”

“Come in and shut the door.” Gabe slipped the letter and envelope under the desk blotter. “Did they touch anything?”

“No, Henderson knows better. He looked inside the bag to see what was there and didn’t go any further. Baxter follows his lead.” Jack set the sack on the corner of the desk. “If we’re not careful the kid will have our jobs soon.”

“Marshall Henderson’s too smart to want our jobs.”

Gabe pulled two pairs of cotton gloves out of his desk and tossed a pair to Jack. The paper sack had been used before, worn and soft at the top from being rolled and creased. Oily stains that smelled faintly of sausage soaked one corner and partway up the side. The bag looked like trash, a discarded sack used to carry lunch once too often.

A black grease pencil had been used to draw the same symbol carved into the victim’s foreheads on one side. The killer’s calling card.

He pulled up the roller-shade on the window behind his desk. The sun would set soon, but the sunlight that remained brightened the desktop more than his lamp. “Where did they find this?”

Jack had laid sheets of clean typing paper over the dark green blotter, a trick they’d figured out years ago. Anything that dropped off the bag or the contents would show on the white surface. “Henderson dragged Baxter with him all the way to the edge of the Pan Pacific grounds. He made Baxter search around every headstone, bush, and park bench with him. They spotted the bag on top of a headstone near the boundary fence. Soon as Henderson saw the drawing, he knew the killer left it sitting in plain sight for them to find.”

Another message:
catch me if you can
.

Gabe gingerly lifted a small pair of brown leather shoes out of the sack. The straps on one shoe were broken, torn loose from the side and not unbuckled. A heel was missing from the other shoe, tossed into the bottom of the bag and rattling around. The shoes were clean, no mud or grass sticking to the soles or lodged in the straps. He set them on the paper and pulled out the handbag.

The square handbag was made of soft brown leather to match the shoes, framed at the top in etched brass. A round ball clasp in the center held the top closed, while a small hinge on each side let the metal frame pivot to open the bag. Two dime-sized rings mounted on the top corners of the metal frame anchored a short chain handle.

Gabe felt like a voyeur peering inside the dead woman’s purse. He tipped the bag up and emptied it onto the paper-covered desk. The scent of gardenias filled the office: her perfume. He inventoried the contents, ticking off what was left of a woman’s life. “A change purse, a comb, gloves with pearl buttons, a small bottle of cologne, and a lipstick. Nothing to tell us who she was.” He ran his hands along the inside and turned the handbag inside out. “There’s a pocket here.”

The flap was held closed with a small jet button. Gabe laid a mother-of-pearl calling card case and a tarnished silver compact on the desk with the rest of the woman’s things. He opened the compact to find face powder more than half-gone and a cracked mirror.

Inside the card case was a stack of embossed visiting cards, each with a small yellow rose printed on the bottom right corner. Flowery script spelled out Miss Elaine Meadows.

He held a card up for Jack to see. “Elaine Meadows. We’ll send some of the boys around to other station houses and see if anyone’s reported her missing. If we find her family maybe we’ll get a lead on the man with her.”

“You’re assuming the handbag and shoes belong to the woman we found this morning. I can’t believe identifying her is that easy. The murderer is just as likely to leave the belongings of a victim we haven’t found yet.” Jack emptied the coin purse onto the desk. “Streetcar tokens, about two dollars in coin, and a house key. The number eighty-four is engraved on the key.”

“That’s a start. If no one filed a missing person’s report I’ll send men out to start checking buildings numbered eighty-four.” Gabe scooped everything back into the handbag. Paper sack, handbag, and shoes went into the deep bottom drawer of his desk and were locked away. He remembered the letter and envelope under the blotter, and secured them with the rest. “How many can there be?”

“No more than one on every block. Shouldn’t take the squad more than a month to check them all. By then we’ll be hip-deep in bodies and no closer to catching him.” Jack stripped off the cotton gloves and dropped them in the drawer Gabe held open. “We should get moving if we want to get to Sadie’s on time.”

Gabe checked the office one last time, making sure all the file drawers and his desk were locked, and pulled the shade down over the window. He slipped on his coat and waved Jack toward the hall. “I can’t believe I agreed to this. Escorting Sadie’s friend to supper and the fair is above and beyond best man duties.”

Jack lounged against a wall, twirling his cap on two fingers while Gabe locked the office door. “You’d have to meet Delia sometime before the wedding. Might as well be tonight, Gabe. And it won’t kill you to leave that garret of yours for one evening. You spend too much time alone.”

“It’s not a garret. Mrs. Allen runs a perfectly respectable rooming house.”

“That she does. And you live in the smallest room on the top floor. I think that qualifies as a garret.” Jack gave him a sideways look. “It’s been nine years, Gabe. Time to rejoin the world.”

“So you’ve said before.” Buttoning his coat gave his hands something to do other than shake with memories of smoke and fire. Gabe took a breath. “One night at the fair won’t kill me. Just don’t expect this to become a habit. Whatever Sadie’s plotting won’t work.”

Jack’s eyes widened in mock horror and he put a hand to his chest, fingers splayed wide. “My girl? Plotting? Heaven forefend.”

Gabe couldn’t help laughing. “If you don’t walk faster we will be late.”

They moved past a line of office doors, a frosted window set in the middle of each shellacked pine frame painted with a detective’s name. The hall was dimly lit this time of day. All the offices were closed up and the shades pulled over the windows, shutting out any light that might leak in from outside. Day shift was headed home and the men working nights were already out on the streets.

The station lobby was quiet, too. A few people sat patiently on the battered oak benches waiting to speak to an officer, while others unable to sit still paced near the front desk. Gabe viewed change of shift as the eye of a hurricane, an hour of calm before the storm winds hit again. The drunks and rowdies brought in for fighting, and pickpockets preying on tourists would fill the holding cells before dawn. All of them would come through the lobby first, fill the benches, and kick up a fuss. Quiet never lasted.

Luck was with them. A cab pulled up to drop someone off in front of the station house as they stepped outside. Jack gave the driver Sadie’s address and they were off.

Gabe stared out the cab window. Dusk settled over the city, the thin layers of salmon-colored clouds that streaked the sky gradually darkening to indigo. Windows on shopfronts began to glow and street lamps came on one by one, their light shimmering up the steep hills like earth-bound stars. The bright glass globes lured swarms of moths as twilight deepened, an attraction that ended in death.

He looked away. Too much death stalked his city in darkness.

“So.” Gabe cleared his throat. “What do I need to know about Sadie’s friend before I meet her?”

“I’ve never met Delia. She took a teaching job in New York the year before I met Sadie. I know Sadie dotes on her and thinks of her as a sister, not a friend.” Jack pulled on the end of his mustache, deep in thought. “She’s very protective of Delia, too. I know Sadie was really concerned about how Delia would react to the way Esther has deteriorated in the last year. She wrote letters to soften the blow, but she knew Delia would take her mother’s condition hard.”

He picked at the crease in his trouser leg and frowned. “Is she that close to Mrs. Larkin?”

“Delia was on a trip with Sadie and Esther to San Diego when the quake hit. She lost both her parents. Esther took her in and adopted Delia as a second daughter. They are that close.”

“That is rough.” Losing those you loved once was bad enough. Twice seemed unfair. “Did Sadie say how she was handling it?”

“We haven’t had time to talk, just quick notes. This will be the first time I’ve seen Sadie since Delia came home.” Jack gathered his coat and plaid cap. “We’re here.”

The cab parked in front of the house and Jack hopped out to ask the driver to wait. Gabe stood on the walk staring at the front door and rooted in his pocket for a handkerchief. It took a moment to remember he’d left the handkerchief in his office. He stuck his hands deep in his trouser pockets to wipe his sweaty palms dry, annoyed and chiding himself. Meeting and having supper with Sadie’s maid of honor shouldn’t make him that nervous. He scowled and wiped his hands again. Maybe Jack was right, maybe he did spend too much time alone.

Jack clapped him on the shoulder and he flinched. “Relax, Gabe. No matter what Sadie might be scheming, there’s nothing riding on this evening. Just try to remember that Delia’s not a suspect. Don’t interrogate her.”

Gabe stared and the knot in the pit of his stomach pulled tighter. “Do I do that? Interrogate people, I mean.”

“Sometimes. I think it comes from spending too much time in a garret. You forget how to talk to people outside of work. Sadie adores you anyway.” Jack shoved him toward the front door. “Let’s go. Just say hello and leave the rest to Sadie. She’ll talk enough for all of us.”

Delia

The cab ride to the fairgrounds was both amusing and strained. Sadie chatted away as always, steering the conversation and determined not to let silence linger for more than a few seconds. Jack let her talk, casting amused glances my way when she focused her smile on Mr. Ryan. He knew exactly what she was up to but he wasn’t going to spoil her fun. I liked him a great deal. He really was perfect for Sadie.

I didn’t know what to think of Gabriel Ryan. Sadie had neglected to mention Lieutenant Ryan was tall and good looking, with a strong jaw and eyes that changed from brown to hazel depending on the light. A small bump suggested his nose had been broken sometime in the past. That and a crooked smile rendered his face handsome rather than pretty.

He didn’t smile much, added little to the conversation and did his best to politely deflect Sadie’s onslaught of charm. That only encouraged her to put forth more effort to draw him out. He was losing the battle and didn’t seem to notice.

Shadow hovered next to Sadie, poised on the edge of the seat and watching all of us. That the ghost heard and understood everything was clear. Her eyes were always aware, but now her whole face was animated and expectant. Twice she reached toward Jack, pulling back before touching his face or his hand. Each time the ghost brushed Sadie’s cheek in passing. Sadie remained oblivious.

“Delia!” Sadie laughed and grabbed my hand. “You’re not listening to me at all.”

“Sorry.” The poor light in the cab hid the rush of heat to my face. Or so I hoped. Everyone was staring at me, including Shadow. She faded, tattering around the edges and growing thinner until she vanished. I swallowed and met Sadie’s eyes. “I was thinking of something else and didn’t hear you. Could you please say that again?”

Sadie knew the ghost held my attention; it was always the ghost. Her smile dimmed, but didn’t disappear. “Remember the spiritualist I mentioned when you first came home? I’d tried to get in touch with her, but she didn’t answer my notes. Jack’s just told me that she’s working at the fair. Isn’t that marvelous? We can go talk to Madame Bobet about your problem with Shadow right after supper.”

“Shadow?” Mr. Ryan hadn’t spoken to me before, but now I had all his attention. “That’s an unusual name, Miss Martin, not one I’ve heard before.”

Jack cleared his throat and Mr. Ryan glanced over at him. He turned back to me, suddenly sheepish. “I don’t mean to pry. It just struck me as odd.”

“I don’t really know her name. Shadow is just what I call her.” I looked to Sadie for rescue, but I saw right off I’d get no help from that quarter. The smile on her face as she looked on was positively blissful. Now that Mr. Ryan had made the first conversational move, she’d sit back and be quiet. I clung to my own brittle smile and stumbled onward. “Sadie believes her spiritualist friend can help me discover Shadow’s real name and who she was.”

“I see.” He brushed at his trouser leg and glanced at Jack again. Sadie was whispering in Jack’s ear and if Mr. Ryan sought his own help, he didn’t find any. “How do you know … Shadow?”

She chose that moment to reappear, hovering in the space between seats in the cab. Shadow’s green eyes bored into mine, relentless in demanding my attention. She wanted me to tell him, I was certain of that. I was just as sure he’d scoff. “Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Ryan?”

He half turned on the seat so he could look at me straight on. “I’m not sure in all honesty. There was a time I’d have said no, but you see strange things working the streets late at night. I can’t explain all of them and a good detective learns to keep an open mind.”

Sadie and Jack had stopped whispering. The two of them held hands, watching me and Mr. Ryan. I couldn’t interpret the expression on Jack’s face, but there was no question with Sadie. She was perched on the edge of the seat, no longer smiling, but vibrating with controlled eagerness. “Tell him, Dee. No one here will laugh.”

“You won’t laugh, Sadie. Best not to make promises for others.” With Shadow staring at me I couldn’t deny her existence. I took a breath and set about finalizing my humiliation. “Shadow is a ghost, Mr. Ryan. I can’t explain her either and I’d dearly love to. I’ve seen strange things most of my life, but I never really wanted to believe in ghosts haunting people. Unfortunately, Shadow leaves me little choice but to believe in her.”