Perfect Romance

by Duncan, Alice

  The lad nodded and pointed westward. “Down that way.” He seemed to be bucking up after his initial panic. “Want I should help you?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” growled Malachai.

  Noticing the boy’s stricken look, Loretta added, “We don’t want you to get into trouble with Mr. Balderston, but we certainly do appreciate your offer of assistance.” Joseph Balderston, a childhood friend of Loretta’s, owned and ran the Fairfield Hotel.

  “Okay,” said the lad. “Thanks.”

  “You’re very kind to offer,” Loretta added, sensing the boy’s disappointment. They were, she realized, depriving him of an adventure.

  A little more brightly, the boy said, “You want me to keep mum about this? I won’t tell nobody if you tell me not to.” There was an eagerness in his voice that might have amused Loretta under different circumstances. She thought it would be fun to have a high-spirited, adventurous boy, as long as she could rear him to respect women.

  She tried to catch Malachai’s eye to determine his view on the issue of silence, but went ahead without her and answered the boy. That figured. Naturally, he wouldn’t think of consulting her before making a decision, curse him.

  “Yeah. It would be better not to advertise this. Thanks.” Pulling out several coins from his pocket, Malachai handed them to the boy. “I’ll let you know what happens.”

  Saluting again, the lad cried, “Thank you, sir!”

  He completely ignored Loretta, who didn’t think she’d ever become accustomed to being treated as if she didn’t exist. And here she’d wasted so many smiles on the young thug.

  Malachai grabbed her hand and started off down the hall before her grievance could grow too large. “Let’s see if the back staircase can tell us anything.”

  Scrambling to keep her feet under her, Loretta panted, “What are we going to do?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’m sure,” she said as firmly as she could, given that she was having to concentrate on keeping up with Malachai. “We ought to get out to Mr. Tillinghurst’s place instantly. Before he has a chance to clear out with the artifacts and your two sailors.”

  “I know what you think,” Malachai snapped. “I want to make sure we do the right thing.”

  “That is the right thing, curse you!”

  “Huh.”

  They’d reached the door to the service stairs by this time, and Malachai yanked it open. Elbowing him in the ribs to get him to step aside so she could see, Loretta stuck her head in the passageway.

  She saw a flight of stairs going up and a flight of stairs going down. No discarded items of Mr. Peavey’s clothing lay scattered about. No gruesome streaks of blood stained the walls. No messages scrawled in code by means of a finger dipped in gore met their eyes.

  “Damn,” said Malachai. “Wonder if it’s worth going down to see if we can determine if this is the way they took him out.”

  “It must be the way,” Loretta said reasonably. “If they didn’t take the elevator, there’s only one way down.” She gasped, a horrifying thought having struck her.

  “What the devil’s the matter with—”

  But Loretta didn’t wait to hear the end of his question. She knew what it would be anyway. She ran back to Mr. Peavey’s room, her heart in her throat, and scrambled over the upturned furniture and scattered bed linens until she got to the window. Throwing up the sash, she leaned out. Only then did she sigh with relief.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Malachai thundered, storming into the room after her. When he said her leaning out of the window, he said, “Oh.”

  “It’s all right,” Loretta said, this time with a genuine smile on her face. “If anybody had been thrown out of the window, there would be tons of people milling about, and there’s no one there.” And there was no flattened, bloody corpse on the sidewalk, either, thank the good Lord.

  Nodding, Malachai said, “I suppose we’d best go to Tillinghurst’s place.”

  At last! “Good idea,” said Loretta. She couldn’t resist adding, “Even if it was mine.”

  He only grunted. “I’m going to take a quick look around in here first, though. Peavey had some Moorish coins, and I want to see if they’re still where he was keeping them.”

  Loretta joined him in picking things up and peering around. “I thought you’d scooped up all the coins from the floor at the soup kitchen.”

  “Those weren’t the only ones. Peavey told me he pocketed about a dozen of them before he skedaddled out of his so-called dungeon.”

  “He didn’t mention dogs, did he?” Loretta asked, wondering for the first time how Mr. Peavey had eluded the ravening beasts that had almost been the instruments of her own demise.

  “I guess he got the dogs after Peavey escaped.”

  Loretta stood up abruptly. “Aha! So you do think Mr. Tillinghurst is behind all of this evil-doing!”

  “I didn’t say that,” grumbled Malachai.

  “But you think it, or you wouldn’t have connected the purchase of the dogs to Mr. Peavey’s escape.”

  “We’ll see,” he said gruffly.

  But Loretta didn’t have to wait and see. She knew.

  # # #

  “I tell you, you’re wasting time!”

  Malachai, glowering for all he was worth and wondering for approximately the fiftieth time why his glowers didn’t work on Loretta they way they did on everyone else in the world, said, “You’re crazy.”

  “I am not!”

  “All right. You can call Dr. Abernathy from the police station, but we’re not making a detour to Chinatown to pick him up.”

  “We don’t need the police,” Loretta said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest, thereby pushing her luscious breasts up slightly.

  Malachai commanded himself not to think about her breasts. “No? You think Tillinghurst and his men will collapse and give themselves up when I tell them to?”

  “Well . . . No, of course not. Not that, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “Well, but we’re taking so much time.”

  “Better take the time now than get killed because we don’t have anybody but us to fight our battle. Anyhow, we’ll have to get a search warrant if we aim to scour his house and grounds.”

  “A search warrant?” Loretta had heard of search warrants. She’d read about them in novels. At least she thought she had, but she wasn’t sure what one was.

  “You think Tillinghurst will invite us in and give us free rein to inspect his house and grounds?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then we’d better be prepared with a search warrant and the men to carry it out. Providing you’re right about Tillinghurst, which nobody’s proved to me yet.”

  “You’re the most stubborn male human being I’ve ever met!”

  “Likewise, I’m sure, on the other side.”

  “Bother.”

  In a tiff, Loretta gave up arguing and stared out the side window of the taxicab. Malachai figured it was only a temporary reprieve. He’d come to know his beloved well.

  Since he couldn’t think of anything better to do, he stared out the window on the other side of the cab. Nob Hill was quite a place. If the United States had royalty, he bet they’d choose to live here, on Nob Hill, in San Francisco, California. Why bother with Washington, D.C., and all its weather, when you could live here? In one of those incredibly fancy estates with their rolling lawns and birthday-cake trim.

  The whole of San Francisco was quite a place, actually. Ever since he’d escaped from the damned orphanage, Malachai had been everywhere, pretty much, and seen pretty much everything, but he’d never found a city he liked as well as San Francisco. A man could be happy here, within reach of the ocean and foreign shores if the wanderlust grabbed him, yet with roots. Yes, indeedy, San Francisco had everything Malachai figured he needed for a happy rest of his life.

  With a sideways squint at his cab-mate, he silently acknowledged that even Loretta was p
art of the everything he’d need. She’d at least assure that he never got bored with the stability of a home and family. He’d bet anything that she’d take to motherhood, too. Her vivacity, energy, and intelligence would guarantee that her children were exposed to every type and kind of educational experience. And, since both she and he had money, the kids would never go hungry, either.

  Recalling his own bleak childhood, Malachai shivered involuntarily.

  “Is anything the matter?” Loretta asked him.

  He hadn’t realized she’d stopped watching the outdoor scene and had begun inspecting him. “I’m fine,” he said.

  “Why did you shiver? Are you cold? It’s a chilly day.”

  “I’m not cold.”

  Loretta herself still wore the pretty yellow thing she’d had on when he’d called on her that morning. She’d topped it with a brown woolen coat and a silly brown hat with yellow flowers on it. He’d asked if she had a fur coat, because he didn’t want her to get chilled, and she’d given him a lecture on how evil it was to kill animals in order to decorate women’s fashions. “It’s not as if we’re cavemen and women,” she’d said hotly. “We don’t need to kill animals in order to cover our bodies. We have wool! We have cotton!”

  He’d agreed, and meekly, too, which had only served to incite her to a longer lecture. He grinned, remembering. Ah, Loretta. However had he lived without her? And yet he’d only known her for a few weeks.

  “Are you sure?”

  He’d forgotten what they’d been talking about, and his face must have given him away, because Loretta huffed.

  “You shivered,” she snapped. “If you’re not cold, perhaps you’re getting sick.”

  “I’m not getting sick.”

  “Well, then, why did you shiver?”

  “How the devil should I know?” he demanded, becoming testy. He didn’t want to talk about his miserable beginnings. He wanted to forget them.

  “Hmph.” Loretta sat back and crossed her arms over her chest again. She resumed staring out the window.

  Damn the woman. He’d never known anyone else who could provoke him so much in so little time. Looking out the window on his side, he saw the police station ahead. Good. He aimed to gather reinforcements, and quickly.

  “We’re about there,” he said.

  “At the police station?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll call Jason as soon as we get there.”

  Malachai heaved a huge sigh. “I still don’t see what good it will do to have a doctor on hand.” He saw her puffing up and held out a hand before she could tell him. “But I’m not objecting. I suppose we can use all the men we can get.”

  “Men?” There was an ominous tone to her voice.

  God preserve him from feminists. “Armed human beings,” he amended, trying not to grin.

  She sniffed, but she didn’t pursue the matter.

  # # #

  Although she considered herself a coward for it, Loretta was glad to espy Marjorie MacTavish waiting for them and their police cohorts at the gate of Mr. Tillinghurst’s estate.

  Not that she needed Marjorie. Heavenly days, Loretta didn’t need anyone. Still and all, it was comforting to know she’d have a woman friend by her side during the impending confrontation.

  It hadn’t taken Malachai three minutes to convince the police to take a hand in their proposed scheme. In fact, to Loretta’s disgust, three of the policemen had saluted Malachai, as if he were their leader. She’d wager she’d still be arguing with them if Malachai had left it up to her to convince them they needed help. The cursed man had everybody twined about his little finger. It wasn’t fair.

  Out of nowhere, Loretta wondered what kind of father Malachai would be. She’d bet he’d be the sort of hard man who turned to mush around his own children. It would be interesting to find out if she was right.

  Good Lord, wherever had that thought sprung from? Giving herself a good hard mental shake, Loretta forced her mind back to the present.

  Malachai caught sight of Marjorie, too. “Good God, why did the damned fool bring that woman along?”

  Glad to be diverted from her previous thoughts, Loretta said firmly, “Jason is not a fool, and Marjorie can be of use to us.”

  “I don’t see how,” he growled. “But I guess there’s no help for it now.”

  The police car pulled up in front of Jason’s Hudson automobile, and Loretta didn’t wait for a policeman or Malachai or Jason to open her door for her. Ridiculous tradition, that. She shoved the door open and leaped out, fortunately missing a clump of cactus. She reminded herself that, while women were every bit as competent as men, they were still well advised to look before they leaped.

  Marjorie hurried up to her. “What’s going on, Loretta? Jason—Dr. Abernathy, I mean—said there’s something amiss at Mr. Tillinghurst’s estate.”

  “Amiss, my foot. He’s a villain, and he’s kidnapped Mr. Peavey again!”

  “Merciful God.” Marjorie pressed a hand over her mouth.

  “We don’t know that,” Malachai said gruffly. “But we’re going to find out right now.”

  “How are we going to work this?” Jason, who had walked over to join them, asked.

  Before Loretta could explain, Malachai spoke. “I’m going to ring the bell and have the gate keeper admit me. We’re all going to enter as soon as the gate is open, and then everyone is going to hang back and surround the house while I talk to Tillinghurst.”

  “Hang back?” Loretta hadn’t been informed of this particular plan. She didn’t like it. She wanted to be in the forefront of the action. After all, it had been she who’d first pointed at Tillinghurst as the thief.

  Turning and using his great bulk to loom over her, Malachai said, “Yes. Hang back. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you get kidnapped too. How the devil do you suppose I can find out anything if you’re in danger?”

  “I won’t be in danger!” cried Loretta, vexed. “Mr. Tillinghurst doesn’t have the least idea that we suspect him of anything at all.”

  Jason stuck an oar in. “She’s right, you know,” he said, thoughtfully stroking his upper lip. “In fact, she might give you a good excuse to come visiting. You can tell Tillinghurst that you’re engaged to be married or something.”

  Loretta’s upper lip curled. “Married? Jason Abernathy, you know good and well—”

  ”Yes,” he interrupted, sounding exasperated. “I know, but does Tillinghurst? You don’t have to mean it, you know. It’s a ruse. You’ve heard of ruses, certainly, Loretta.”

  “There’s no need for sarcasm,” she muttered.

  Malachai huffed. “Can’t you shove your blasted principles aside for the sake of Peavey and Jones? It won’t take us long to find out what we want to know. While we’re talking to Tillinghurst, the police will be searching the grounds.”

  Deciding that now wasn’t the time to argue principles, Loretta conceded graciously. “Very well. And that way I can make an excuse to search the upper story.”

  Malachai turned on her like a grizzly bear. “Damned if you will!”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Malachai Quarles, why not? If I beg leave to use the facilities, nobody’s going to follow me to see if I’m really searching the upper floor.”

  “Actually, she might have a point there,” said the sergeant of police, the highest ranking officer present. “She can get inside without arousing his suspicions, and we can’t.”

  Loretta had never been particularly fond of the police, believing them to be the puppets of an unjust government, but she smiled upon the sergeant. “Exactly.”

  “And you can drive to the door in my machine,” Jason said with a grin. “If you drive up in a police car, they might suspect something.”

  “They might,” said Malachai sardonically.

  “I should have driven us here in my Runabout,” said Loretta.

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” chorused Malachai, Jason, and Marjorie, as one.

  Loretta re
sented her friends’ insistence that she was a poor driver. She only gave them a disgruntled frown. Malachai, she noticed, was standing there and scowling, looking not unlike a monument to some angry Roman god who was about to throw a thunderbolt and destroy a city. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked without bothering with courtesy.

  “Are you absolutely set on going in with me?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t like it,” Malachai said under his breath.

  “Well, I do, and I aim to do precisely as I said.” Loretta sniffed and lifted her chin.

  “I’m sure you would anyway,” he said nastily.

  “All right, children, let’s not fight.” Jason laughed as he said it.

  “Huh.” Leaving the huddle, Malachai marched to the gate and rang the bell. When a crackling voice asked who he was to be demanding entry, he growled, “Quarles. And Miss Linden.”

  “Doesn’t sound much like a happy bridegroom-to-be, does he?” Jason asked. Loretta couldn’t tell if he was amused or worried.

  “No, he doesn’t,” she said. “But then, he wouldn’t, would he?”

  Marjorie clucked her tongue.

  As the gate began sliding open, Malachai stomped back to them. “All right. Get in the machine, Loretta.”

  Marjorie clasped Loretta’s hand. “Take care, Loretta. Try not to be a gudgeon.”

  “Ha,” said Malachai. “That’ll be the day.”

  Jason laughed.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” said Loretta.

  They didn’t speak as Malachai got behind the wheel. Jason cranked for them, and they were soon rattling along on the long, tree-lined drive, heading for William Tillinghurst’s front door. The police contingent, on foot, along with Jason Abernathy, rushed through the gate after them. Malachai didn’t see Marjorie, but he held out little hope that she’d had sense enough to remain behind. She was probably in the one lone police car that came through the gates last.

  “If we don’t find anything, I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do to my business partner, you know,” he mumbled.

  “If the men and the artifacts aren’t here, Tillinghurst has moved them. I know he’s the one.”

  “How?”

  She turned in the seat beside him and frowned at him. “What do you mean how?”