Leonardo's hands tightened around his glass. "I needed to make it look like a robbery."
"You were friends with his grandfather."
"I was," Leonardo confirmed. "Are you really a friend of Nicholas? Because from what I've seen, he don't have friends."
"You spooked him. He hired me to help find his stalker."
Leonardo winced. "I didn't mean…" He trailed off with a sigh. "I only want what's mine."
"And what might that be?"
"How much do you know?"
Riot folded his hands on the table. "Why don't you start at the beginning."
The man across considered his suggestion. "You're that detective I've heard about."
Riot inclined his head.
"Maybe you can help us both."
"We'll see."
Leonardo seemed to accept the vague assurance. He downed another glass, and squared his shoulders. "Nicholas's grandfather and me were partners. His friends called him Teddy. And we were the best of friends. Met him on the boat over way back when. We mined for gold together, we froze together, and starved." He looked at his palms. "Eventually Teddy ended up with a young wife and babe, so we took any job we could find. We worked until our hands bled some days. Times were tough, eh? You are old enough to remember some of it, I think?"
Riot nodded.
"When Teddy and me heard about the blue eggs on the Devil's Teeth, we didn't think twice. We bought a leaky fishing boat, and went to those god-forsaken islands. But the egg company had claim to the southeast island—the lesser of two evils. The north island was left to us—too treacherous for the egg company men. We went twice, and nearly died both times. Lost our load once, and half the next time. The third time was different."
From his position, Riot had a clear view of the entrance. He never sat with his back to a door. Tim hurried into the saloon, tense and ready to spring. When Tim saw Riot, he visibly relaxed and started over, but Riot gave a slight shake of his head. Leonardo was in a talkative mood—there was no need to risk interrupting him. Tim took the hint and sidled up to the bar.
"How so?" Riot asked.
"We did one last haul. The biggest yet. Only instead of risking the Devil's Teeth, we pirated the egg company itself."
Leonardo's eyes were distant. "We boarded one of their boats at sea after they were tired. Even so, they put up a fight. I was shot during the boarding. We didn't harm none of them—not permanently anyhow. We forced the crew into a rowboat, left our leaky boat, and sailed into San Francisco. But I was in a bad way, so I left it to Teddy to sell the eggs and I went off to see to my wound. Only due to us not tossing the crew overboard like proper pirates, our heist was all over the newspapers the next day, along with our descriptions. I was caught, but I never ratted out Teddy to a living soul. I spent five years in prison, Mr. Riot. When I got out, I found his wife and child and learned he had been killed."
"How did he die?"
"On the docks. I figured he was robbed, or someone recognized him and he tried to run."
"Did he sell the eggs?"
Leonardo shook his head. "I didn't think so at the time. His wife wasn't living grand. She was remarried, I think out of desperation. There were more men than women in these parts. Easy enough to find a man, but maybe not a good one."
"Was her new husband unkind?"
Leonardo shrugged. "Hard to tell. She wasn't happy with me. Blamed me for Teddy's death. Blamed me for leading him astray."
"Did you?" Riot asked.
"I did." Leonardo flexed his fist. "He looked up to me."
Riot didn't reply, only waited as Leonardo lost himself in memories.
The man downed another glass, and sighed. "I asked her, of course. About the money. But she only cursed at me. She didn't even get to sell the rickety fishing boat Teddy had used their savings to buy. At the time, I figured Teddy had to dump the load. Or it was stolen along with the boat. Didn't think about it for years. That was until my sister died a few months ago."
There was the elusive trigger, Riot thought, the catalyst that had put recent events into motion.
"As I was going through her things, I found this letter in her sewing box. Dated three days after our raid." Leonardo placed a well-handled piece of paper on the table. The creases were deep, the paper nearly splitting in the seams. But the hand was still legible.
I've not betrayed you. Only hidden what's yours. Find me on a quieter day. Your friend in arms, Teddy.
"Your sister never showed this to you."
Leonardo gave a rueful smile. "My sister didn't approve of our ways. She was a devout Catholic, and she'd not be a part of ill-gotten gains. She knew what we had done. After she died, I pawned her sewing box for a police badge. Fitting, I thought."
"Why did you think Nicholas knew where the money was?"
Leonardo scratched at his scarred knuckles. "The letter confirmed that Teddy sold the cargo and hid the money. So I thought maybe Teddy's woman pulled one over on me. When I tracked her down, I learnt that she had died, too. But she had a fine house, and a grandson who'd gone to a fancy university. I wanted my cut."
"I remember eggs were in high demand at the time. A single one cost a dollar. What was the size of your haul?" Riot asked.
"There were at least six thousand eggs. Maybe eight. If you help me find that gold, I'll give you a cut."
"That money belongs to the egg company and the men you sent adrift."
Leonardo slammed his fist down. "Money gotten by theft! The Pacific Egg Company were thieves. They had no claim to that island, and they got rich off of those eggs. We didn't hurt anyone. I got a bullet in my gut, and lost five years of my life. What's one load?"
"You were planning to steal the money from Nicholas."
"Only what's mine."
Riot held the man's gaze until he saw the truth in his claim. "I don't think Nicholas knows anything about the gold," he said quietly.
Leonardo sat back. "You're right. I don't think he does, either."
"That was clever of you, if cruel, to stage a robbery in an attempt to find his hiding place."
"It was useless. That boy is peculiar."
"You're right. He is. But Nicholas is also gentle and kind. That's a rare thing."
Leonardo's cheeks flushed with heat. "And I scared him witless." Leonardo broke eye contact.
Riot pushed the bottle closer, and stood. He gathered his stick. "You did."
"I'd like to make it right with Nicholas. He's my best friend's grandson."
"I'll speak with him, but until I say so, don't go near him again. I am not a kind and gentle soul."
Leonardo raised his glass. "So I've 'eard, Mr. Riot."
31
A Useful Thing
Whispers woke him, soft and fleeting, and a scuff of feet outside his door. Riot opened his eyes, and winced. He reached to the side, but only found an empty expanse. "Three more months," he whispered.
Riot eased himself up, and limped to a mirror. When his spectacles were in place, he studied the bruises on his lower back and face. At twenty, he would have hopped out of bed and found more trouble, but forty was an entirely different beast.
"You knock," a snatch of voice came through his door.
Riot reached for his trousers, and grimaced. By the time he'd slipped on his braces, one of the children standing outside his door finally worked up the courage to knock. "Yes?" he called.
"It's Sarah," a faint voice said. "Can we come in?"
Riot opened the curtains to let in light. "Just a minute, Sarah." When his tie was in place and his waistcoat buttoned, he opened the door. Sarah and Tobias stood outside.
Sarah's face fell. "What happened to you?" she gasped.
Riot gestured vaguely at his eye. "Father and daughter matching black eyes."
"You're halfway there," she said. Her own bruises had spread down her nose and curved under both eyes. It was a wonder her nose wasn't broken.
"I'll have to go and get punched again," Riot said. "Are you wil
ling to punch me, Tobias?"
Sarah's worry turned into a laugh, and she threw her arms around his waist. When he winced, she pulled away. "Do you have more bruises?"
"I'll be fine," Riot assured. He touched the air over her swollen face. "How's the nose?"
"I think it looks worse than it feels. You need ice."
"I likely needed it last night," he agreed.
"Breakfast is ready," Tobias said. "And no, sir. I ain't punching you. Mr. Tim will, I'm sure."
Riot reached for his coat. "You are right about that."
The children followed as he limped down the stairway. "So what happened?" Tobias prompted.
"Did you find the man I drew for you?" Sarah asked. "Is that how you got the shiner?"
"Are the two of you always so alert in the morning?"
"It isn't morning, Mr. A.J."
"It's afternoon," offered Sarah.
"Is it?" Riot glanced out a window. The air was silver with mist. San Francisco had forgotten it was summer again.
"Near to two in the afternoon," Sarah said.
"Have any telegrams arrived for me?"
Tobias slid down the last three steps as he gave a shake of his head. "I would have woken you up for that."
Riot touched the boy's head in gratitude. "You are a wise young man."
"That's stretching it," Sarah muttered.
Lily was putting on her gloves in the entryway. "Good afternoon, Mr. Riot."
"Miss Lily."
She glanced at his face, and grimaced. "There's tea and scones in the kitchen. And Sarah, see that Mr. Riot gets some ice on those bruises."
Lily turned to a mirror and straightened her hat.
"May I borrow Tobias today?" Riot asked.
"Are you taking Sarah, too?"
"I am. It's nothing dangerous."
"I'm not sure you know the difference." Lily gave him a pointed look.
"With a name like mine?"
"Hmmhmm."
Riot opened the door for her, and she stopped on the threshold. "You may take him."
Tobias did a little jig in place as his mother left. "Where we going?" he asked.
"I'm going to the kitchen," Riot said.
"And then?" Sarah asked.
"I thought you might like to know why Nicholas Stratigareas was being stalked."
"Eggs?" Three voices asked in unison. Nicholas, Sarah, and Tobias all stared at the man who sat across the table. Riot ran a hand over his gray-streaked beard, feeling far older than he should. The trio in front of him would never know a city where justice was delivered by a swift gun. He and Ravenwood had worked hard for that reality.
"Eggs," Riot confirmed. "We have chickens now, but there was a time when no one could be bothered to raise them in San Francisco."
"Why on earth would that be difficult?" Sarah asked. "Chickens are easy."
"Everyone was struck with gold fever. They were all mining. Same with laundry—there weren't any launderers, so most sent their shirts on sailing ships to be laundered overseas. Miners couldn't be bothered with trivial tasks."
Tobias and Sarah stared. Nicholas went back to looking at Sarah's drawings. He seemed more fascinated by the sketches than by the possibility of gold.
"It was a different time," Riot explained.
"Sounds lazy," Sarah muttered.
"Obsessed, more like," Riot said.
Tobias's eyes slid over to Mr. Nicholas. Riot cleared his throat before the boy could voice his thoughts. "Mr. Nicholas," Riot said. "Did your grandmother ever talk about your grandfather's trips to the Farallones?"
Nicholas shook his head.
"How did your family come by this house?" Property wasn't cheap in the city. Now, and even more so in years past.
"My grandmother's second husband owned a mercantile, and my father opened a successful restaurant. As far as I know my family worked hard for this home."
"Maybe there's a clue in all those journals and photographs you keep," Sarah suggested.
Nicholas shook his head. "There isn't any mention of gold."
"It may only be a suggestion. Something hidden," Riot said gently.
But Mr. Nicholas wasn't interested in the possibility. He didn't seem to care one jot for it.
"Can we look through your books?" Tobias asked.
Nicholas looked up, startled. "No… no, I've only just put them back in order."
"We'll be careful," Tobias said.
Nicholas looked horrified at the declaration.
"You can look through them yourself if you like," Riot suggested.
"Why would I do that?"
"For the gold!" Tobias said.
Nicholas stared at the boy. "I don't need it."
"Don't you want to find it?" Tobias pressed.
"I have other things to do."
Riot rested a hand on Tobias's shoulder before he could say anything more. "Let me know if you'd like to meet your grandfather's friend, Leonardo."
Nicholas tilted his head. "Should I meet him?"
"That's up to you."
"He ruined my home."
"He did. And he's a rough sort. But family is important to some, and from what I gathered Leonardo doesn't bear your family any ill will. Don't feel like you have to, however."
"He'll leave me alone then?"
"I believe so. I'll check in with you from time to time though."
Nicholas sighed with relief.
"Seems like letting him apologize might put your mind at ease," Sarah said. "Otherwise he'll just be that shadowy face in a window." She glanced at Riot for reassurance, and he gave her a slight nod in return. Sarah was right.
Nicholas looked up suddenly. "Can you draw my roses?"
"Your roses?" Sarah asked.
Nicholas nodded. He carefully closed her sketchbook and handed it back. Without a word he shot out of his door and into the garden.
"Are all your cases this strange?" Tobias asked.
"I've had a few." Riot slipped on his hat, and the three of them joined Mr. Nicholas by the roses.
"Can you draw them?" Nicholas asked.
Sarah considered the rose bushes. "Will you allow Mr. Riot to look through your journals and photograph albums?"
"Yes," Nicholas said without hesitation.
"I'll do it," Sarah agreed.
Riot tipped his hat to her as he went back inside. Sarah Byrne was a resourceful child.
"That man is odd," Tobias whispered as they walked into the study.
"He's keen on details."
"But not gold?" Tobias asked.
"Or mysteries."
The boy frowned at the shelves of identical journals. "Detective work isn't this boring in The Bradys."
"Does your mother know you read those dime novels?" Riot asked.
Tobias shot him a warning look. "I ain't sayin'."
Riot set down his hat, selected the first journal, and settled into an armchair. Tobias selected the next one, and plopped on the floor. "What are we looking for?"
Riot flipped through the old journal. "Treasure."
"What if someone robbed Nicholas's grandfather?"
"A very likely scenario."
After ten minutes, Tobias became bored with deciphering the nearly illegible script, most of which was in Greek, and began poking around the study. Riot flipped through a photo album. Old tin-types of Greece and the voyage across seas. Mementos and memories. What was it like being able to trace your family's history? Generations tucked neatly away in a family bible with a thriving tree of names. Riot would never know. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know anything about the blood that ran through his veins.
I leave a son. The words from Ravenwood's last known journal entry came unbidden to his mind. Maybe that was all he needed—he was the adopted son of an eccentric Englishman.
"Mr. A.J.?"
The question snapped Riot out of his musing.
"What are you going to do if we don't find anything here?"
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "As far
as Mr. Nicholas is concerned, the case is closed."
"So why are we looking?"
"Curiosity."
"Seems pointless." Tobias picked up the sewing box from the pawn shop, and peeked inside. His face fell when he found it empty. The death of curiosity in the flesh. Tobias plopped down next to Riot on the armrest, and began opening and closing the box with a click as he studied the carvings.
"If I didn't have other pressing matters, I'd attempt to track the boat that Nicholas's grandfather and Leonardo stole. Although harbormasters weren't as diligent forty years ago as they are now. Or I—" He cut off, and stared at the box in Tobias's hands. Something about those markings had caught his eye.
"Or I may retire from detective work altogether and join a society of fools. May I see that?"
"What, this?" Tobias handed the scrimshaw box over.
Riot flipped open his magnifying glass, and studied the box. The carvings were of the sea, but not just any sea. Riot looked up at Tobias, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Curiosity is a useful thing, my boy," he said with a glint in his eye.
32
A Brown Study
JIN
Sao Jin stared at the unmoving lump under a blanket. Isobel was like a dead person, and that worried her. In the general run of things, Isobel Amsel vibrated with energy. Jin could feel her thinking, even when Isobel sat still.
But Isobel had barely moved for a full day. The hum of her mind was gone. And now, a day later, Isobel still lay under her blankets. A plate of food sat nearby. Untouched. At one point a nurse came, but Isobel sent her away with a growling threat. Time ticked on, and a second nurse checked on her. Isobel roused herself long enough to verbally dissect the woman. The nurse had left in tears.
Jin frowned at the lump. She placed a hand on its shoulder, and shook. "Captain Morgan," she said. "Let's go for a walk."
Isobel pulled the blanket tightly over her head.
"Are you sick?" Jin asked.
"Yes," came the muffled reply.
"You are lying. Did the boy die?" Jin asked.
"No."
Jin waited. But Isobel didn't say anything more.
The Devil's Teeth (Ravenwood Mysteries #5) Page 24
