Chapter Ten

 

When Malachai and his two men, Johnson and Tutwiler, had stepped into the tobacconist’s shop to buy a couple of cigars, he’d expected Peavey to follow them. He ought to have been paying closer attention or made sure either Johnson or Tutwiler had stuck with him. Derrick Peavey lived in his own world, and it bore little resemblance to the one occupied by the rest of the denizens on earth.

Therefore, after he’d made his purchase and realized Peavey had wandered off, he’d dashed outdoors. After a brief search, he’d seen a large bully of a man pounding on poor Peavey’s head. Malachai, while mad as hell, wasn’t surprised. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, ever since they’d docked at San Francisco, Derrick Peavey seemed to draw catastrophe unto himself.

Then, when Malachai had seen Loretta Linden charge out of the watching throng and attack the bully with her handbag, he shouldn’t have been surprised, but he had been. Although Malachai knew Loretta to be reckless and perhaps unhinged, he still hadn’t anticipated her tackling an obviously malicious giant with a handbag.

When the bully had backhanded her and she’d gone flying through the air to land on her luscious bottom on the pavement, he’d seen red. After that he didn’t remember anything until he was sitting on some stairs with Loretta in his lap, his heart pounding against his ribs like a storm at sea.

It had taken quite a while for him to calm down enough to behave rationally. That was unlike him. Malachai Quarles was, above anything else, a rational man. He had about as much truck with unreason as he did with ballet dancing. He couldn’t leave off holding Loretta, though, for what seemed like hours. It could only have been minutes—even seconds—when he came to his senses, and saw that the man who had attacked Peavey lay unconscious on the roadway.

Had he done that? He couldn’t remember, but he hoped to hell he had.

Then he called to the two men who were tending Peavey, “Johnson, Tutwiler, get that man bound and take him to the nearest police station.”

“Aye-aye, Cap’n,” Johnson called back. And then, like everyone else under Malachai’s command, he and Tutwiler had done what their captain had asked them to do, without hesitation or question.

So far, the only person in his life who didn’t instantly obey any of his commands, was the woman on his lap. She drove him absolutely crazy.

As soon as he was sure she was able to stand on her own, he went to secure transportation for her. He aimed to make sure she was checked out by a competent physician, and Jason Abernathy was probably the closest one to him at that moment.

“Cab!” he shouted into the street, not really noticing if there were any cabs at hand.

A woman nearby screeched in alarm, and he shot her a furious scowl. She scurried away as if he were a scoundrel rather than the hero in the piece. He didn’t have time to brood on the irrationality of the average female human being, since three cabs screeched to a halt in front of him. He chose the nearest one and said, “Wait here.”

The cabbie said “Yessir,” in a frightened-sounding voice, and Malachai stomped back to Loretta.

He found her sitting next to Peavey, with Peavey’s hand in hers. He wanted to yank Peavey away from her, but knew he was reacting unreasonably. The damned woman had pushed him to the edge of total insanity.

“The cab’s at the curb,” he growled at the two. “Can you walk?”

“Of course,” said Loretta.

She would. Malachai frowned down at her, but she only gazed up at him, her eyes bright, her cheek swollen to twice its size, and with the mark of a man’s hand standing out in red against the white skin. She was going to be bruised black-and-blue before the day was out. Malachai fought an impulse to follow his sailors and the bully to the police station and strangle the bully with his bare hands.

“Take my hand,” he said gruffly, holding it out for her.

She said, “Thass noh nethith—um—never mide.” Clutching the stair railing, she heaved herself to her feet, where she stood, swaying, until he caught her shoulders.

“The hell it’s not,” he growled. And he picked her up. Glancing down at Peavey, he said, “Follow us, Peavey.”

Without a word, Peavey, good fellow that he was, rose and followed behind Malachai. He was like a well-trained dog, Peavey was, even when his mind wandered.

At least Loretta didn’t struggle. Malachai didn’t know whether to be grateful or worried. Loretta wasn’t the meek-kitten type. Any other female in the world would have put her arms about his neck, laid her head on his shoulder, and sighed with appreciation, unless she succumbed to a fit of the vapors and loud wailing. Loretta merely tried to frown at him. Because of her swollen cheek, she couldn’t manage much of a frown.

Because he was so upset, he snarled, “You’re welcome.”

“Wha?”

“I said you’re welcome. I rescued you, remember?”

Her eyes narrowed, and her pretty little brow wrinkled up, and it was all Malachai could do not to kiss her. She said, “Huh.”

With a grin, Malachai said, “So that’s the way to keep you quiet, is it?”

She didn’t try to talk, but only glared at him.

“I should have thought of it before. Sock you in the jaw, and you can’t talk. I’ll keep it in mind.” Kissing her had worked, too, but that was much more dangerous than hitting her. Backhanding her might lead to legal proceedings against him, but kissing her could lead to a life sentence.

It worried him that the notion of marriage to Loretta Linden didn’t alarm him as much as it should have. They were at the curb, however, and he chose not to think about it. Carefully settling Loretta in the front seat next to the cabbie, he helped Peavey into the back seat and climbed in after him. After Loretta gave the cab driver a slow and carefully enunciated address, none of them spoke again until the cab drew to a stop in front of Jason Abernathy’s Chinatown clinic.

Malachai looked at the structure doubtfully as he helped Loretta out of the cab. “Are you sure Abernathy knows what he’s doing?”

“Who? Jathon? Of courth he dohth!” She was indignant, which Malachai took as a good omen regarding her state of health.

He chose not to meet her indignation with anger. “Good,” he said, and he helped Peavey get out of the cab. Poor Peavey had fared worse than Loretta. He limped, and his arm hung at an odd angle, and his face was purpling and swelling. Blood seeped from several cuts.

“Between the two of you, you look as if you’ve survived a war,” Malachai commented as he strode forward and yanked the clinic’s door open. He itched to go back and assist Loretta, but she was assisting Peavey.

Damned independent female. Malachai didn’t approve of independent women. They were annoying and caused no end of trouble. They were almost as irritating as the women who shrieked and fainted every other minute.

Jason Abernathy jumped up from his desk at the sudden opening of his front door. “Good God!” When he saw the captain, he released a breath and grinned. “I thought you were a hatchet man come to do me in, Captain Quarles. People don’t ordinarily open my door with such enthusiasm.”

“Sorry.” Malachai was a little embarrassed. He guessed he had opened the door rather forcefully. “But I have a couple of patients for you, if you have the time.”

Jason’s smile vanished when he beheld Loretta and Peavey limping into his office. “Good Lord, Loretta, what have you been up to now?”

She gave him an exasperated look as she settled Peavey into a chair. But Jason, Malachai was pleased to note, was not fooled.

“Let me have a look at that cheek, Loretta.” Jason took her arm and guided her carefully to the chair beside his desk.

“Look at Mithter Peavey firtht,” she said.

“In a minute.” Jason gently pressed her down into the chair.

Malachai winced along with Loretta before he steeled his nerves. It was nothing to him if the wench had got herself hurt. Damned fool woman. He had to stifle a cry of alarm at Jason’s next question, however.

“Did you lose any teeth?”

“Teef?” Loretta sounded as alarmed as Malachai felt.

About damned time, he thought nastily. And he winced again when Jason began probing. This was stupid. He sat down heavily next to Peavey and tried to concentrate on his sailor. Unfortunately, Peavey’s attention was riveted on Jason and Loretta, too.

“How the devil did this happen?” Jason asked, his anger plain to hear in his voice. Then, when Loretta started to answer, he said, “No. Not you. Captain Quarles? Do you know how Loretta sustained this vicious blow?”

“Yeah,” said Malachai, in a grump with himself and Loretta both. “She tried to break up a fight with her handbag and got knocked senseless for her efforts.”

Jason shook his head. “Loretta, Loretta, Loretta, when will you ever learn?” With a laugh, he added, “Don’t answer that. I don’t want you moving this jaw.” He glanced at Malachai. “I suppose the guy was twice as big as she?”

“At least.”

“Naargh!” said Loretta. It was all she could say under the circumstances.

“Well, it doesn’t look as if your jaw is broken, at least, and you haven’t lost or loosened any teeth. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the inside of your cheek suffered from the collision with your teeth, and your tongue has a nasty bite on it that’s going to hurt for a while. Your jaw is going to be bruised and swollen for a couple of weeks, at least. I’m going to dab iodine on the inside of your cheek—don’t swallow any more of it than you can help, since it’s poisonous—and give you an ice pack. I want you to hold it against your cheek.” He shook a finger in her face. “And don’t talk.”

She glared at him, but she didn’t talk as he went to the icebox in a corner of his office and filled an ice bag with chips he hacked from a large chunk of ice. He handed it to her with another admonition. “You really shouldn’t attack people who are twice as big as you are, Loretta.”

Taking the ice bag, she began indignantly, “I dinn—”

”Don’t talk!” he commanded, wagging his finger again. Then he laughed. “You can tell me all about it later—say, in a couple of weeks. Right now, I only want to treat that jaw. It’s a real mess.”

She sighed in agreement.

Silence reigned in Jason’s office while he gently dabbed iodine on the inside of Loretta’s mouth. Malachai, watching, was hard pressed to keep seated. He had a mad impulse to rush over to Jason and Loretta, knock Jason senseless, and carry Loretta off to the Fairfield, where he could tenderly see to her injuries. Damned fool. He was only a little rattled by events and slightly irrational. It wouldn’t last.

Even Malachai didn’t believe that one. Nevertheless, he remained where he was and didn’t make a total ass of himself.

After Jason set aside his iodine bottle, he asked, “Are there any other parts of your body that sustained injury?”

Malachai wondered if Loretta would mention her bottom, but she didn’t. She only shook her head.

“You sure? Did you fall against anything and hurt your ribs? Are your legs bruised?”

The combination of a vivid blush and the encroaching blue of the bruising turned Loretta’s face into a vibrant sunset of color. She shook her head again, harder.

Jason stood back, put his fists on his hips, and gazed down at her. “I don’t believe you. I’ll bet you landed on your bum, and you’re embarrassed to tell me about it. Well, that’s all right. I suppose you’re going to be black and blue for quite a while, however, and I expect you to tell me if you experience any trouble. It’s possible that your sacroiliac has been bruised or cracked, and that could lead to trouble. Will you tell me if it hurts too badly?”

She nodded.

“You promise?”

Another nod.

“I mean it, Loretta. Promise me.”

“I arreahy dih!” she cried indignantly.

Through his grin, Jason said, “And don’t talk.”

She huffed and subsided into her chair, contenting herself with frowning around her ice bag.

“You’re going to have to have complete bed rest for at least a week, and then I’m going to allow you to get up, but you aren’t allowed to go downtown or to the soup kitchen for at least another week after that.”

“No!” she cried, plainly horrified.

“Yes,” Jason said in a no-nonsense voice.

“Fooh.”

Jason, who knew her well, said, “I’m serious, Loretta. I’m going to tell Miss MacTavish all about this day’s events, and she’ll tell me if you’re keeping anything from me or if you try to disobey my orders.”

A powerful scowl met this piece of news. Malachai had an urge to applaud. He was glad he’d brought the injured parties to Jason’s clinic, because Jason knew Loretta, and it was obvious that he wasn’t going to let her get away with anything.

Gently, Jason took her arm. “I’m just going to move you over to sit beside the captain now, and take a look at Mr. Peavey.”

She was limping badly when Jason led her over to him. Malachai rose and assisted her into a chair, using much more care than he generally did with injured people. She didn’t thank him for it. Rather, she frowned as if he were some kind of monster and muttered, “I doh neeh hep.”

“Nuts,” said Jason. To the captain, he said, “I’m going to take Mr. Peavey into my examining room. If he sustained a pounding, he might have cracked ribs, and I want to inspect that arm. He might have dislocated the shoulder, and it will have to be put back into place.” He patted Peavey’s shoulder. “It’s not a pleasant experience, but it’ll have to be done.”

“Damned Moors,” muttered Peavey.

“Thanks,” said Malachai.

So Jason led Peavey away, and Malachai and Loretta were left alone in his office. Loretta held the ice pack to her cheek and didn’t look at him. Malachai wanted to inspect her various injuries himself. Not that he didn’t trust Jason, but he was very worried about Loretta. When he’d seen her flying through the air, he’d nearly had a heart attack. She’d landed hard, too, and he’d bet money that she had more wrong with her than only her cheek. She’d never allow him to fuss over her. Damned woman was such a pain in the ass. Which was probably true literally as well as figuratively now.

After several minutes of silence, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “You sure you’re all right? You probably have a hell of a bruise on your . . . uh . . . leg.”

“I’m figh.”

The hell she was. Malachai said, “Be sure you keep a watch, though. Sometimes injuries show up some time after the initial blow or fight.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean it,” he said, trying to appear both sincere and authoritative. “One of my men got hit by a spar once. We all thought he was all right, but he died during the night. The doc said a blood clot had formed, and that’s what did him in. You’ve got to watch out for clots.”

“Uh-huh.”

The notion of Loretta developing a blood clot and dying made Malachai’s temper rise. “Don’t ‘uh-huh’ me, dammit. I’m serious.”

Narrowing her eyes, Loretta pointed at her ice pack. “Cann talk.”

“Humph.”

Deciding to quit while he was ahead—or at least not too far behind—Malachai clammed up. She didn’t appreciate his concern anyhow. He didn’t, either, damn it. He couldn’t help it, unfortunately.

It must have been at least forty-five minutes that the two of them sat there, Malachai fidgeting and fighting the impulse to cosset Loretta, and Loretta holding her ice pack to a cheek that was becoming bluer and bluer as the minutes passed. It pained Malachai to look at it, but he couldn’t help himself.

Loretta noticed his attention. With her frown as firmly in place as her ice bag, she said, “Doh stare ah me.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are— Oh, fooh.” She stopped pestering him and readjusted the ice pack. Good thing.

When the door to Jason’s examination room opened, Malachai leapt to his feet. “Well?” he demanded loudly—much more loudly than was necessary or than he’d intended.

Loretta said, “Hmpf.”

Leading Peavey tenderly by his right arm, Jason smiled at the pair. “I see you’ve been a good girl, Loretta. Of course, with the captain watching over you, I suppose you didn’t dare be anything else.”

“Wha?” Loretta tried to leap to her feet as Malachai had done, but her leg gave out and she landed back in her chair with a powerful whomp that made tears spring into her eyes. Malachai saw them and wanted to rush out and kill the man who’d hurt her. It was a damned shame he’d told his men to take the bastard to the police station. He deserved to die.

“Aaaah,” said Loretta, her face snow-white beneath her bruises.

Jason shook his head. “Dash it, Loretta, will you behave for once? You’re injured, and you’re going to have to stop moving around.”

She said, “Huh,” but she seemed to have learned her lesson, because that was all she said, and she didn’t move again.

Jason helped Mr. Peavey to sit down on the other side of Malachai. He treated the man with great tenderness, and Malachai liked him for it. Jason Abernathy was a good man, in spite of his inexplicable fondness for Loretta Linden.

“How is he?” Malachai asked. Then, believing it to be only courteous, even though he didn’t expect much of an answer, he repeated his question, this time of Peavey himself.

“How are you feeling, Peavey?”

“It was them damned Moors,” muttered Peavey.

Jason winked at Malachai. “He’s sustained a dislocated shoulder, a couple of cracked ribs, and a good deal of pounding. He’s going to be at least as black and blue as Loretta, and he ought to stay in bed for a week or so.” He turned and frowned at Loretta. “Just like you.”

“Aaaah,” said Loretta, frowning back.

“Don’t be an idiot, Loretta. I’ll telephone Miss MacTavish. She’ll see that you behave yourself, if she has to hide all your clothes.” He brightened. “In fact, I’ll tell her to do it before you get home, so you won’t stand a chance of disobeying your doctor’s orders.”

The notion of Loretta without any clothes appealed strongly to Malachai. He considered this a bad sign. Because he’d sooner appear in public in a tutu than have anyone guess his innermost thoughts, he said, “Good idea. It’s probably the only way to keep her down.”

She turned her glare on him. He didn’t care. Since he was impervious, she transferred her attention back to Jason. “Wha ‘bou the soo kish—kish—” She huffed in frustration. “The soup kitchen?”

Malachai and Jason exchanged a glance. “I’ll tell them you’re laid up,” Malachai offered. “As soon as I get you home.”

“You don neeh!” Loretta exclaimed indignantly.

Malachai only rolled his eyes.

Jason said, “Don’t be silly, Loretta. You need help. Accept it for once, won’t you? Your feminist principles won’t be violated by accepting help when you need it. In fact, it’s only sensible. You’d be an idiot not to. You don’t want the world to think all feminists are stupid, do you?”

She looked as if she were as mad as fire, but she bowed to the inevitable. “Fooh.”

With another laugh, Jason said, “I’ll take that as a yes.” He turned to Malachai. “You’ll see her home?”

“Yes. But I want to talk to Peavey first.”

“Right. He wants to talk to you, too.” Jason knelt in front of Peavey. “Will you tell your captain about the man who attacked you, Mr. Peavey?”

“Yeah. Right.” Peavey looked at Malachai. “It were one of them Moors, Cap’n. One of the Moors from the dungeon.”

Satisfied, Jason stood up. Malachai saw him direct another wink at Loretta, who didn’t look as if she appreciated it much. Figured.

But Malachai didn’t take time to interpret the dynamics between Loretta Linden and Jason Abernathy. He had more important matters to deal with. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “You mean the man who beat you up today was one of the ones who kidnapped you and threw you in the—the dungeon?” Damnation, but he wished Peavey’s brain worked better. They’d searched all of San Francisco, looking for his so-called castle with its so-called dungeon.

Peavey nodded. “He hit me in that kitchen place, too.”

“You mean, that guy was one of the men who knocked you out in the soup kitchen?”

Loretta squeaked softly, but both Malachai and Jason ignored her. Peavey was too focused on Malachai to glance her way.

He nodded solemnly. “He was one of them Moors, Cap’n. One of the same ones.”

Another squeak from Loretta. Malachai frowned at her. “Keep out of this, will you? You’ve got to be still.”

She was certainly agitated. Worried about her, but believing he was doing the right thing in keeping her mute, Malachai turned away from her. “Did you recognize anyone else today, Peavey? Think hard.” He spoke gently, having had a lot of experience with Peavey’s flights of fancy.

Obeying his captain, as he always did, Peavey thought hard for several seconds before shaking his head. “Only that one, Cap’n. Didn’t see nobody else.”

“Hmm.” Malachai was frustrated. He wanted to rush to the police station and question Peavey’s attacker, by hand if necessary, and then kill him for hurting Loretta, but he also felt a profound need to see Loretta safely tucked away in bed, and to make sure Peavey was safe in his hotel room. Damn. Too bad there weren’t more of him.

A smack to his knee made him say, “Ow!” He turned and glared at Loretta, who had hit him with her ice pack. “What the devil’s the matter with you? Besides the obvious.”

“Ith Tillinghurtht!”

“Aw, Jeez, not this again.” Malachai allowed his head to droop for a second. He was weary. Too damned weary to rehash this nonsense.

“It ith, I teww you!” Again using her ice pack for its intended purpose, Loretta pressed it against her cheek.

She spoke to Mr. Peavey very slowly, enunciating carefully. “Mithter Peavey, do you r’member if the cath—cath— oh, pooh! Do you r’member if the cathel where the dungeon was brick?”

Peering at her closely, Peavey followed her lips, trying to make out what she was saying. “The dungeon? In the castle?”

Loretta nodded.

“Wath—was it brick? The cathel, I mean”

Peavey understood that. He nodded enthusiastically until he hurt himself, and then he said, “Ow.” After allowing himself a moment to recover, he said, “Yeah. That’s how come I knew it was a dungeon, was ‘cause it was underground. The dungeon, I mean. The door was behind a big bunch of bushes.”

“An’ dih the cath—castle have a big iron gay—gate ‘roun it?”

Peavey squinted and seemed to consult his inner memories for several seconds. “An iron gate . . .”

“A bwack—black one,” Loretta prompted.

Enlightenment struck Peavey. “Yes! It was a big black iron gate! It surrounded the castle. I had to climb over it. I remember now!”

Loretta sat back, triumphant. She cried, “I tol’ you it’th Tillinghurtht! I wath righ!”

“Oh, for God’s . . .” Malachai took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. It wouldn’t help if he blew his top at her. Besides, she might be an idiot, but at the moment she was a wounded one, and it wouldn’t be fair to browbeat an injured woman. “Listen, Miss Linden, it might have been anybody’s door. Lots of doors are behind bushes, and lots of rich people have big iron gates surrounding their property.”

She said stubbornly, her ice pack held firm, “I’m righ. I know ih.”

“Fine. You’re right. We’ll check into it when you’re feeling better. Will that keep you quiet? You’re injured at the moment, in case you’d forgotten, and you’re facing a week in bed.”

“Two weeks,” corrected Jason.

Malachai approved and smiled at Jason.

“I din forgeh,” she said indignantly. “I know I’m righ.”

Malachai stared directly into her eyes. She was going to have at least one shiner by tomorrow morning. Holding his wince inside, he spoke slowly and distinctly, mimicking her own manner of speech, but with more clarity of diction. “I promise you, Miss Linden, that I will take you, in a taxicab or by whatever means of transport you prefer, to Mr. Tillinghurst’s mansion as soon as you’re well enough to snoop. And I’ll go with you through his entire grounds. Will that shut you up?”

She frowned, but only said, “you promith?”

“I promith. Iss, I mean! Damn it, now you’ve got me doing it.”

“Huh.” Loretta sank back in her chair. Malachai felt certain she wasn’t satisfied with his promise, but she was probably too weak to protest further.

He said to Jason, “Listen, Dr. Abernathy, I want to get Peavey settled, but I want one of us to see Miss Linden home. I don’t trust her to go to bed and stay there.”

Loretta huffed.

Jason said, “You already know her that well, do you? Well, good.” He grinned at Loretta. “Tell you what, Captain Quarles. Why don’t I see Mr. Peavey to the hotel. I’ll call Miss MacTavish and make sure she hides all of Loretta’s clothing, and then you can make sure she gets home in one piece—and immediately. Mr. Peavey said you two are staying at the Fairfield?” He lifted his eyebrows as if he was surprised that Peavey, at least, would be staying in so first-rate a hotel.

But Malachai wasn’t one to accept finer accommodations than his men, especially if one of them was slightly off-plumb and inclined to wander. He nodded and turned to Peavey. “Do you have your room key, Peavey?”

Peavey squinched up his eyes and thought for a long time before Malachai, interpreting this as an “I don’t know,” spoke again to Jason. “Ask at the desk. They’ll give you one.”

Brightening, Peavey said, “That’s right! It’s at the desk!”

Malachai patted him on the knee. “That’s good, Peavey. You go to your hotel room with Dr. Abernathy, and stay there. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll come to you as soon as I can, and we’ll discuss the day’s events further.”

“Aye-aye, Cap’n.” Peavey saluted.

Loretta huffed again, and said, “Call the kishen.”

“Right. I’ll telephone the soup kitchen and then Miss MacTavish. I’ll be sure she knows to hide your clothes.”

“There’th no neeh . . .” But Jason had already lifted the receiver from the candlestick telephone on his desk without giving Loretta a chance to argue about having her clothes hidden.

Malachai heard Jason’s conversation first with the telephone exchange and then with whoever answered the ‘phone at the soup kitchen. Jason didn’t go into details with the soup kitchen staff member.

“That’s right. I am Dr. Jason Abernathy, Miss Linden’s physician. Miss Linden is ill and will be laid up for at least two weeks.” Jason waited, listening to the person on the other end of the wire. “Thank you. Yes, I’ll deliver your message.”

He replaced the receiver and grinned at Loretta. “Sister Mary Alexander says she’ll pray for you, and wishes you the best.”

“Thank’oo.” She stood up, carefully balancing herself with a hand on the arm of her chair.

Malachai said, “You might as well sit down. You’re not going anywhere until Miss MacTavish has your clothes stowed somewhere you can’t get at them.”

“Fooh!” She didn’t sit down, although she couldn’t very well go anywhere, since no one had secured a taxicab yet, and she clearly was in no shape to walk.

With a laugh, Jason said, “I’m heading to my telephone now. I guess it’s safe to hail a cab.”

“I’ll wait until you hang up,” said Malachai. Glancing at Loretta, he added, “I want to make sure Miss MacTavish is home before I let Miss Linden loose upon the world again.”

Jason gave him a thumbs’-up signal and picked up the receiver.

Indignant, Loretta cried, “Fooh on bofe of you!”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Malachai re-sat himself, secure in the knowledge that he was not only doing the right thing, but that Loretta was in no condition to fight with him about it.