Intimate Strangers Affair Page 20

  He stood near the table, his hands picking a little food from one platter, then another.

  Margaret’s lips pursed into a perfect scarlet moue. “Really, sometimes I truly believe you are more interested in my cook than in me. Must you do that? Eating off my plate. It is aggravating and unsanitary. There are other things to attend to.” Her finger ran down the buttons of his jacket to below. She smiled. “More important things. Hand me my robe, darling.”

  “Of course, querida.”

  Pain crossed me as realization finally hit. Lightning zapped through me and split my heart into two, leaving a burnt empty place inside my chest. My shoulders slumped forward, and I felt as if I were going to cave in on myself, pushed in on all sides by my disbelief and growing anger. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to go in there and hurt him, hurt them both, as badly as I hurt right now. But I also wanted to run away and never see him again. Both impulses tugged at me so that I stood there, uncertain what to do next. I could only watch. A caress, another murmur, his back still toward me as he reached for another delicacy to feed himself, then Margaret. She kissed his fingertips, then declined a second offering.

  Horrified, I saw Margaret walk to the door. She would find me. They both would. I had to leave. Now. Before my humiliation would be complete. Even though I hadn’t eavesdropped on that meeting between Hamilton and Calhoun yet, I had already heard enough, seen too much. I couldn’t take it any longer. So I ran out of that mansion, fury making my feet fast. I ran even faster. I just felt too sick at heart to care. The night was cool, but it didn’t refresh me. And no amount of foxglove would ever cure what ailed me. I didn’t think anything would.

  Chapter 8: Confessions

  Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” I said without any real conviction, because for once I felt safe. Still shaky, but absolutely safe cruising through the Barbary Coast. I was no longer by myself; Catherine was chaperoning me like a mother taking her kid to the first day of school.

  My aunt gave a gimlet eye to a grimy lowlife in the alleyway. “Don’t even think about it,” she growled. “I eat weasels like you for breakfast. Spit out the bones afterwards.”

  Impressive. I had to remember that line. Maybe I could use it on Don “Juan” Miguel later on. I just had to work on that low angry voice. I was afraid I’d sound too wobbly right now. Weak-willed and wobbly. No good. I wanted to be strong and forceful like her, but I always felt like somehow I never measured up.

  “You didn’t have to come with me, Catherine.”

  “Nonsense, baby doll. Complete and absolute nonsense. My beautifying treatment can wait until later. I’d do anything for you. It’s too bad that Don Cabrillo is such a severe disappointment. He always seemed so regular to me. So steady. Such a nice dependable gentleman, and always so polite. I never guessed that he’d turn out to be a two-timing rat. I’d like to give him a good piece of my mind.”

  I had a feeling she had been about to say something more vulgar, but had admirably restrained herself in time. Still, her little speech didn’t make me feel any better. “I’m not dead, yet. I have my health, my work. I have you, James, and Claude. I can count my blessings. I’m okay. Really, I’m fine.”

  “Fine? You can fool yourself, but you can’t fool me. You’re broken-hearted. I can see that. And you’re awfully quiet about it just like your mother. She’d rather die than let anyone know how much the pain was eating her up alive. Stoic to the end. Me? I’ll go down kicking and screaming, and you can bet your bottom dollar that I’ll take a few down with me too while I’m at it. Why aren’t you wailing about this? What’s wrong with you? Maybe he’s not as important to you as I thought he was.”

  I swallowed hard, and before me, the gas lamps seemed to swim. Their soft yellow lights turned into blurry haloes. I swiped a hand across my eyes. “He is…was. It’s just that it all happened so fast. Everything. Meeting, taking care of him, or trying to…being, well, together. It took my breath away. And suddenly, I couldn’t help myself. He never made any promises to me, so maybe it’s my fault if I expected more. What do I know? I’ve never…”

  “Fallen in love before?”

  I could feel my face crumpling around my eyes, mouth. There was that pain again, sharp, right between the ribs. How could I feel that when there was nothing left inside me? It didn’t make any sense. None of this did. I vigorously shook my head.

  “And you never want to again?”

  This time I nodded.

  Catherine slung a consoling arm around my shoulders as we turned down Post Street. We passed by the cribs and the cow-yards, where the signs read “Men taken in and done for.” My aunt only shook her head at the pockmarked girls who sat half-naked in their windows. “You could help those girls if you opened up that Infirmary again. Things got worse after James closed it down. There’s work, good work, for you to do.”

  Surprised, I looked at her. “I thought you didn’t want me to be a doctor. I always thought you just wanted me to find a man, someone to take care of me.”

  “I never said that, baby doll.” Catherine sighed. “I just want you to be happy. I always wanted your road to be smooth and straight, but instead, you chose something rocky, something that causes you pain. I’ll never understand it, but don’t you dare ever think I’m not proud of you. I’m real proud. As proud as can be.”

  She hugged me tighter as if she could press some of her amazing strength right through my skin and into my aching soul. Then I realized the depth of her unconditional love. I was strange to Catherine, perhaps as incomprehensible as a book of ancient Arabic medicine, but it didn’t seem to matter to her. She loved me all the same and wanted only the best for me.

  My aunt sniffed. “Don’t worry, about the Don. Time mends all things, and what it doesn’t mend, it allows you to plan for. Some revenge maybe. Something sweet, something real juicy. Don’t let Don Cabrillo off the hook so easily. I say horsewhipping would be too good for him. Maybe buried up to the neck and covered with fire ants. The nasty stinging kind. Yes, that might be satisfactory. Ha! Sleeping with Margaret LaRue Calhoun! Can’t be any punishment worse than that. A man would need to go to bed with a full suit of armor to feel protected against the likes of her.” She proceeded to outline more dire consequences for Don Miguel, each more gruesome than the last. No one said that Catherine lacked imagination, and she was bloodthirsty as hell. I had to admit that listening to her rant made me feel a little better. There is no bodyguard more zealous than an outraged aunt, and I had one marching ahead of me toward the Zeus Hotel.

  Even though it was almost dawn, the lights were still on, and piano music leaked out whenever the front doors swung open.

  “Why is Claude here?” I asked.

  Catherine didn’t reply. Men. So aggravating. They never did what you told them to, and they never stayed where they were supposed to.

  “Dear God, he just puked his guts out all along Portsmouth Square. He should be in bed.”

  “Maybe he is,” my aunt laughed, hitching up her Worth gown a little higher to take step over a pile of horse dung.

  “Catherine!” My cheeks flushed. I didn’t want to think about Claude doing…oh, never mind.

  “It’s a fact of life, and some facts are just more interesting than others.” My aunt laid a hand on the door and decisively pushed it open. She strode right in like a steam engine, smelling of her favorite perfume and the cucumbers from the eye-bath I had interrupted just moments ago. “Maybe that Persephone is giving him a little of her own medicine, although this is the last place I think he should be. Enough visits here, and you’ll end up in a real sanitarium. Now, where the hell’s that boy?”

  The moment we stepped into the front parlor, the music stopped on a jangling note. The discordant sound lingered in the air like cheap perfume, while the rest of the room fell completely silent. Everyone froze.

  Hands on hips, Catherine scanned the room with a sharp professional eye, sizing up the cheaper make of the gowns. Well, the mura
ls weren’t so bad, but the subject matter wasn’t exactly classic. I didn’t think any of it was anatomically possible.

  Someone in the corner tittered, and that single sickly sound broke the logjam. Everything started moving again, and everyone returned to their previous business, legal or not. One of the working girls walked by with a tray of strong spirits. The music started up again, and someone started singing in a passable gravelly bass.

  “They should get that piano tuned. The alley cats are yowling outside,” my aunt declared.

  I elbowed her. “Lower your voice, will you? Jeez, sometimes you’re like Claude. Just as bad.”

  “You mean just as good. That boy is after my own heart. Just goes out and grabs the world with his two fists. Look at this clientele. They wouldn’t know the first thing about etiquette. See that girl over there picking her nose behind her fan? As if anyone would find that attractive. And the girl in lilac-”

  “What? Where?” The major’s lady? Was she here again? I looked, but I couldn’t see past that cluster of hookers.

  A woman took her time adjusting the laurel wreath on a boy’s head, then where the toga hung on his shoulder. Finally, he moved away. And then, I saw her. The young lady in lilac perched on an overstuffed horsehair chair. She sipped a glass of liqueur and limpidly fluttered her fan. Those sly eyes bothered me. It was as if she was hoarding some secret. A wonderful delicious secret that only she knew.

  She looked so familiar. And that smirk, I knew that irritating smirk from somewhere. Some place dark. And damp. I couldn’t place her face, and it was really starting to bother me.

  “Who is she? Catherine, do you know her?”

  “No. She’s not a regular working girl.”

  I only half-listened to my aunt while I thought frantically. Was that girl from Paris? On the ship? No. More recent than that. My mind groped, searching for patterns, discarding features and mismatched memories. One right after the other. I kept circling back to that mouth, the one thankfully hidden behind her matching fan now. I had seen that spiteful expression before, but not at the Calhoun mansion. No, before that. Jail? My jail. The night I was abducted from Catherine’s. Yes, that was it. That young girl reminded me of Sergeant Hollinger. Did he have a female relative? Maybe a sister? I immediately felt so sorry for her. Imagine having that creep for your brother! I mean, at least I had Claude. “No one I’ve ever seen around much before,” Catherine continued. “Of course, girls just come and go. If you can even call her a girl in the first place.”

  “What?” I straightened up, Catherine’s last words finally registering. “What do you mean?”

  “Details, Nathalie. Details are everything. The little touches. But like I said, they’re simply lost on a crowd like this. Just look at how she’s sitting.”

  “No ankle showing. Nice slippers.” Not a trace of mud, not like my own caked boots.

  “Not her footwear, for heaven’s sake. Look closer. Feet apart. A dead giveaway. Every little girl always learns to sit with her ankles crossed. Even a hooker remembers that lesson. Until she learns the right time to do otherwise.”

  And this time, I’d heard every word that my aunt had said, but the meaning was still unclear. “Are you saying…that she’s a he?”

  “You got it. That’s what I’m saying. Just like Elvira, only she was born differently. Kinda mix and match. Too much of some things, but not enough of the others. Or so they say. Do you get my drift? You should. You didn’t go to that fancy medical school in Paris for nothing, did you?”

  My mouth gaped. “So that girl over there isn’t Hollinger’s sister. That’s Sergeant Hollinger himself?”

  “I wouldn’t know a Hollinger from Adam, but a sergeant, you say?” Catherine thumped me on the shoulder, the chuckles starting to rumble through her statuesque chest. “A sergeant? Get out of here. You mean the military? I guess a dress is just a different kind of uniform. Regulation corsets.” My aunt threw her head back and laughed louder.

  Surprised and more than a little curious, I couldn’t help myself. I darted another glance at Gregory Hollinger. Yes, now that Catherine had mentioned it, I could see what she meant. The heavy make-up concealed a beard, not acne scars. And those broader male shoulders. I had been totally fooled by him. Over the top of his fan, he looked directly at me. Then he winked.

  “But that means the major…” I drifted off, feeling even more confused. That brusque cutting attitude. Cold, hard, and male. Very male. “He can’t be! Major Moore? A…a sexual invert? But he’s not like Frankie, your cook. The major’s not a thing like Frankie.”

  “And how should he be, Nathalie? We’re not stamped out with cookie cutters. We’re all different. Everyone of us unique.” My aunt clutched my arm. “Ah, there’s Persephone and Claude. At last. That’s who you wanted, right? Well, come on. Don’t stand there like an oak tree. Get a move on.”

  Catherine swept me along like she always does. From the other side of the room came my brother, whose face still looked green around the gills. He was walking with a medium-sized hooker, who wore a white Greek gown. A silver diadem held back her long black hair, and her dark almond-shaped eyes looked too wise and sad for the goddess of youth. Perhaps she had spent too long as it was in the land of the underworld. Her skin seemed like old parchment, very thin and slightly yellow. She didn’t seem well. Not well at all.

  Claude gave a big grand wave as if he were greeting me from the topside of the boat. “Well, hey, Catherine. Sis.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I said fiercely.

  “Glad to see you, too. A family reunion. How about that? What brings you here?” Claude kissed both my cheeks. Into my ear, he murmured, “Major’s here.”

  I stiffened under his hands, my eyes widening with excitement.

  “Patience,” Claude said softly. He took Persephone’s hand. “You all know this lady.”

  Fidgeting, I muttered hello. What was Claude about now? Wasting my time, that’s what. I had to find the major. At any moment, that ship would sail and I’d lose my chance. I didn’t have time for these social niceties. Maybe I could just nip this in the bud right now. I mean, if you couldn’t be rude in a brothel, where could you be rude? Well, maybe I was being a tad hypocritical. Okay. A lot. I hoped that my aunt couldn’t read my mind. I glanced nervously at her.

  Catherine looked thoughtfully at Claude’s companion. “Well, hello, Mae. How have you been keeping?”

  “Same as always, just as you can see,” the hooker said. She tried to pull her hand out of Claude’s, but he held on. Firm. She frowned at him.

  I nodded toward Greg Hollinger. “What can you tell me about him, Mae?”

  “Him?” Her eyebrows lifted. “Not on Elvira’s payroll. He’s here from time to time. A busy worker. Must be some kind of research. He’s always writing things down.”

  Researching? More likely collecting information. This place must be a treasure trove for them. It wasn’t just anatomy that was exposed here, everyone’s weaknesses were exposed too. Last night’s vice could be neatly turned into today’s blackmail. That was how they’d blackmailed me into doing their work. An ugly business all around.

  “Doesn’t Elvira mind?”

  “Mind? Why should she? She gets a cut. We all do if we find out something useful. It’s dirty money, you know. Leaves a stain on your hand.”

  “You don’t have to stay here. You know that you’re always welcome back,” Catherine offered with a smile.

  Looking sad, Mae only shook her head. “Your house has rules. No poppy, no hop-fiends. That means me.”

  “It doesn’t have to be, darlin’. I told you. Isn’t that right, Nathalie?”

  “Yes, it’s possible. But it’s not for me to say, it’s up to Mae.”

  She stared back, hostility and hope all mixed up on her face. It gave her some spark so that she didn’t look so sallow and beaten down. She almost seemed to come to life again.

  “I don’t think ...”

  “Then you won’t,” I repl
ied. “Only you can decide if and when. You let me know. I’ll help if you’ll let me.”

  “You’re just like your brother, won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Mae muttered. And this time when she yanked her hand away from Claude, she succeeded.

  Claude fluttered his fingers over his chest. “I don’t know about that. Like Nathalie? I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Well, how far would you go? You’re an invalid, remember? Or did you barf out your brains, too?” I said crossly. I didn’t really want to be involved in his rescue work. It was hard. Damnably hard to give up opium. Especially if the addict was reluctant. I’d seen these joy-luck girls fall into one long night that never ended, from one heavy pipe to the next. Mae was one of those. Could she make the journey back? What had Claude gotten me into now? That sentimental sap. He talked big, but he was just a big softie like me. He’d been throwing away money on Mae for years. And now this. He wanted her to come clean again. Well, maybe she’d be one of my first Infirmary patients, but Claude better do his share of the work.

  “Now wait a minute, I might ask the same of you. What are you doing here?” he said, pulling me to one side. “I thought you were chasing the Don. Or wait! Don’t tell me!” Claude shaded his eyes with one hand, and pretended to survey the room. “You followed him here? Here, to this den of utter iniquity? Damn, I didn’t think he had any more left in him. Not after you went on all those blackberry picking expeditions. Convenient. You guys were gone a long time. Real long. So long that—”

  “That’s not funny.” I didn’t want to be reminded of that. There were a lot of things I’d be better off forgetting if I knew what was best for me. I quickly punched my brother in the gut. Hard.

  “Awww…you always did hit like a girl. No, no.” Lifting one hand, he cowered underneath it. “No need to prove your point some more. Message read. Loud and clear.” He finally straightened up and looked at me. His mobile mouth frowned. “Something’s happened. What is it?”