Delia's Shadow (11 page)

“I’ll have to make sure to stay on her good side.” He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees and hands clasped. Putting this off would only make it harder. “I know it’s been a long night already, but we need to talk, Delia.”

“Officially, you mean.” Delia sat up straight, hands folded in her lap. “Given the shouting coming from the parlor, I’m going to guess Jack is having a similar conversation with Sadie.”

He’d heard muffled voices a few times and one loud crash, but no more than that. Not enough to tell him if Jack was holding his own. “Who’s winning?”

She smiled, just a little. “I didn’t linger long enough to eavesdrop. But just based on volume, I think Jack might be ahead. I’m not willing to count Sadie out just yet.” Delia looked him in the eye, all traces of humor gone. “Go ahead and tell me, Gabe. I’m not as excitable as Sadie. You have my promise not to yell.”

“I won’t hold you to that promise.” Gabe cast about for a place to start, all his careful rehearsal forgotten. Telling her about the murders and asking his questions was so much easier when it all happened in his head. “Jack and I have been working on a series of murders for the last three months. We don’t have much in the way of leads and catching the killer will take time. I—Jack and I—feel that having men from our squad watch this house until we find this man is a wise precaution. I’m also going to urge you to accept a police escort anytime you leave the house.”

She tipped her head to one side, her expression carefully neutral. “You really think this is necessary because of the case you’re working on?”

Gabe nodded. “I do. Jack agrees. He’s telling Sadie the same thing right now.”

Delia took a deep breath before she spoke. “The two of you have been detectives for years. You must work on murder cases all the time. I’m willing to believe that you honestly think we need protection, but I need to know why. What frightens the two of you so much?”

He’d told Jack to tell Sadie everything. Gabe couldn’t do any less, especially not with the memory of a stranger watching Delia at the café so fresh. “There is a chance—there is a strong possibility that people close to the detectives working the case are in danger. We’re afraid that you and Sadie might draw this killer’s attention.”

Her chin came up, a challenge in her eyes. “That’s all well and good, and I’m sure you have your reasons. But you still haven’t told me why, Detective Ryan. I’d like to know what kind of danger Sadie and I are in.”

“This is an ongoing investigation, so I can’t give you all the details, but I’ll tell you what I can. It’s not pleasant. A lot of it will be hard to hear.” Gabe closed his eyes briefly and rubbed his forehead again. The headache was worse. “I know you’re tired, but I need to ask some questions when I’m finished.”

She stared over his shoulder for an instant, her eyes losing focus, watching the ghost. Delia shivered and turned back to him, a flush blossoming in her cheeks. “Go ahead, Gabe. I’m listening.”

Gabe gave Delia all the information he could about the murders, stressing how the killer moved through the city and took his victims seemingly at will. And even though he questioned the wisdom of doing so, he told her about the letters, explaining that the latest one was addressed to him, making the killer’s taunts personal. He didn’t gloss over how horrible the victims’ deaths were.

And he didn’t attempt to conceal the murderer’s claims that there were more victims still undiscovered by the police, or hide that he believed those claims. She flinched at some of what he said and swallowed hard, but didn’t turn away.

Not until Gabe finished. He waited for her to speak first, giving her time to come to terms with the idea that the killer could come after her or Sadie. His questions could wait another few minutes.

Delia brushed at her eyes and squared her shoulders. “If Sadie insists on being difficult, I’ll do what I can to convince her. She’s an innocent in many ways. Recognizing the ugliness of the world is difficult for her. Now ask your questions. I’ll do my best to answer.”

He poured more coffee, offering Delia a cup that she declined. Stirring in sugar turned into a delaying tactic, so he took one sip and abandoned the cup on a side table between their chairs. “I have some questions about Shadow and the nightmare you had. A big part of my job is piecing the fragments of a case together until they form a picture that makes sense. Any of the details you remember from your dream or what you saw of Shadow tonight could be important. I wouldn’t put you through this if it could be avoided, but you’re the only one who can tell me what I need to know.”

Delia watched a spot just behind his left shoulder, her eyes tracking the ghost as Shadow moved around to stand next to him. A chill tendril of air brushed his cheek. Gabe shivered and clamped down on his imagination.

She pulled her gaze away from Shadow; the weary set of her mouth made clear the effort required to separate herself. “Be honest with me. Do you think what happened to Shadow is related to the case you’re working on?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and tried to smile, remembering the fine line between witness and friend. Right now he wasn’t sure which side of the line to stand on. “I think if a connection exists, it’s from sometime in the past. But I won’t know until I hear what you have to say.”

“That’s fair.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a shaking hand, a sign of nerves let slip. The trembling lip when she smiled was a bigger tell; her bravery was a thin facade. “Do your worst.”

Gabe perched on the edge of his seat and looked into Delia’s brown eyes, baffled about where the sudden impulse to hold her hand came from. They’d only known each other for one evening, but he already knew she wouldn’t welcome that kind of attention or thank him for coddling her. He sternly reminded himself of professional distance, and that the needs of the investigation came before sparing her feelings, or that he was attracted to her.

Honesty demanded Gabe admit to himself that he wanted to make an attempt to know Delia better. A pang of disloyalty, to Victoria and her memory, hit him simultaneously. Rejoining the world of the living carried a lot of guilt.

He rubbed his sweaty palms on his knees and held professionalism between them like a shield. “I’m going to ask you about the nightmare you had. Any thing you can remember could be important. You said the man who took Shadow was wearing a mask. What was it made of?”

She shrank back deeper into the chair, hands bunching her skirts tightly. Delia chewed her lip, remembering. “Cloth of some kind, rough and light-colored.” Her eyes opened wider. “Thick canvas, like a scrap of sail from one of the fishing boats. Shadow grabbed the mask while trying to get away.”

“That’s good. Those are the kinds of details that help.” Canvas could mean a fisherman or a merchant seaman, even a sailmaker, but Gabe mistrusted the obvious. He pushed a little harder. “Now tell me what the mask looked like. Could Shadow see any part of his face around it? The color of his eyes?”

The answer was immediate. “No, Shadow couldn’t see his face. The mask fit over his head like a … a flour sack. Small slits over his eyes let him see out, but she couldn’t see past the openings. A design painted on the front was all she really saw. That stood out even in the dark.”

His mouth went dry. “A design?”

“Yes.” Delia drew the design in air with a finger. “A circle divided into quarters, drawn on white canvas with black paint. There was something else, too. The paint was smudged and she couldn’t make it all out, but small pictures were drawn at the bottom of the circle.”

Gabe patted his pockets down, silently swearing at himself for not being as meticulous as his partner about carrying a notebook. He finally came up with a pencil and a flyer for a local grocer, Mrs. Allen’s shopping list of the previous day scribbled in a corner. “Can you draw what Shadow saw? It doesn’t have to be perfect, but even a rough sketch will help me understand.”

Delia quirked an eyebrow over the grocery list, but turned the flyer face down on the side table and sketched on the back. She paused, added a few more lines, and held the flyer out. “I drew all the time while at school, but I’m badly out of practice. That’s near as I can come to what I remember. I hope it’s clear enough.”

“It’s perfect.” The killer’s calling card stared up at him from the creased paper. Two small figures, enough like the signature used by the murderer to twist his stomach, sat at the bottom. Gabe pointed at the largest one. “Do you know what that is?”

She shook her head. “Not for sure. I went to an exhibit at the Natural History Museum in New York last year. This reminds me of the Egyptian picture writing I saw. Hieroglyphics, I think they’re called.”

His coffee cup rattled on its saucer, sloshing lukewarm coffee across the tabletop and bouncing his spoon onto the floor. For an instant, the word
earthquake
was on his lips, but the pictures on the wall remained still and the two small chandeliers on either end of the sitting room didn’t sway. If not for the flash of fear in Delia’s eyes and the puddle of coffee he hastily mopped with his napkin, Gabe might have thought the incident was all in his head.

The doorbell at the front of the house chimed as he dealt with the spill. Annie answered before he had time to worry or wonder. Gabe couldn’t make out all the words, but her clipped tone made it clear what she thought of late callers. He heard a man’s voice ask for him and the door closed again.

Gabe was on his feet, the flyer and pencil tucked into an inside pocket, and buttoning his coat as Annie led Marshall Henderson into the sitting room.

Henderson’s hat was clutched in one hand, long fingers curled tight around the rounded brim. The young rookie nodded to Delia. “I’m sorry to disturb you and your family so late, Miss. The desk sergeant told me that Lieutenant Ryan and Sergeant Fitzgerald might still be here.”

“I think we can forgive you, officer.” Delia exchanged looks with Gabe before turning back to Henderson with a smile. “I’m sure this is important or you wouldn’t interrupt their evening off.”

Marshall blushed, obviously flustered by her attention even if he had spoken first. “I’m just following the lieutenant’s orders, Miss.”

Another murder. He’d left instructions that he was to be notified, day or night, and that was the only reason Henderson would hunt them down this late. A bitter taste rose in the back of his throat and his heart began to race. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since they found the last victims.

“Annie, can I impose upon you to tell Jack we have to leave?” Gabe asked. “I’ll come by and get the cookie recipe for my landlady tomorrow if that won’t be a problem.”

“You come calling anytime you like, Gabriel.” She eyed Henderson standing awkwardly to one side, pale and sweating in his blue wool coat. “Wrap up the rest of the cookies on that plate in a napkin and take them with you. Jack didn’t get his share. This young man would probably like a few, too.”

Gabe scooped the cookies into a white linen napkin and handed them to Henderson. “Put these in your coat pocket for now and be sure to share with Sergeant Fitzgerald. Now tell me where we’re going.” The young rookie glanced at Delia and hesitated. Gabe nodded, signaling his approval. “Go ahead, Marshall. You can speak in front of Miss Martin, but stick to generalities. Specifics can wait.”

“Golden Gate Park, just off 36th Avenue. Baxter’s out front with a car.” Sweat glistened on the patrolman’s face, rolled down his neck and into his collar. “Ruby Diamond was working the corner of 36th and Fulton. She took a customer into the park to conduct business. They didn’t go even a hundred yards from the street, but she picked that clump of trees because they’d be out of sight. The gentleman with Miss Ruby walked into a body in the dark. She says he ran off screaming. He wasn’t anywhere to be found by the time we arrived.”

Ruby Diamond was well known to all the beat cops and patrolmen who spent any time at all on the waterfront. Normally Ruby worked closer to the docks, but the fair was luring everyone from their usual haunts with the promise of easy money. “Is Ruby all right?”

“She’s shaken up, but won’t go home.” Henderson pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his face. “Miss Ruby insists on speaking to you first. Maxwell is looking after her and keeping her out of the way.”

Jack and Sadie came into the sitting room, hand in hand, Annie right behind them with coats draped over an arm and holding Gabe’s hat.

“Thank you, Annie.” Gabe slipped on his overcoat before retrieving his hat from Annie. “I’m really sorry the evening didn’t work out the way you’d planned, Sadie. If you and Delia are game, we can try seeing a bit more of the fair one day soon.”

The smile that spread across Sadie’s face almost chased the worry of Jack’s being called away from her eyes. “No one’s to blame for what happened this evening, but I’ll hold you to that offer. You and Jack work out the details. An excursion with a little less drama would be nice.”

Gabe caught his partner’s eyes. “Go on out to the car with Henderson and he can get started on filling you in. I need to have a word with Delia.”

“Don’t take too long.” Jack buttoned his coat and forced his cap over his wild mop of red hair. “I won’t be held responsible if I’m forced to listen to Baxter’s theories for long. We’ll see ourselves out, Annie.”

Jack kissed Sadie good-bye and followed Henderson to the door. Gabe hung back, waiting to speak to Delia and make arrangements to finish what they’d started, hopefully without an audience. Sadie eyed him for a moment, openly curious, but Annie intervened, filling Sadie’s hands with dirty plates and shooing her toward the kitchen. Delia stood, a hand resting on the high, curved back of a chair and her expression equally as curious as Sadie’s.

He fiddled with the brim of his battered fedora, reaching for professionalism again. “The drawing you made is a great help. I have a friend, Colin Adams, who is a professor of antiquities at Stanford. He might be able to tell us if the drawing on the mask really is a hieroglyphic and what it means. I plan to go see him tomorrow afternoon. If you’re not busy, I’d like you to come along. There are some letters with similar drawings I’d like both of you to see.”