City of Angels (The Trials of Kit Shannon #1)

by James Scott Bell

His enthusiasm was intoxicating. But fly? It seemed impossible, but then . . .

  "I think it's a wonderful dream," Kit said.

  "Ah, so you believe in big dreams, too?"

  "Oh yes."

  "What's yours?"

  Before Kit could answer, a woman's voice rang out from down the hall. "Theodore Fox!"

  A woman with golden hair, attired in an elegant gown of lavender crepe de chine, walked stiffly toward them. Her ears and neck dripped with diamonds.

  Kit remembered her from the party. Her striking appearance—beautiful in a cool, assured way—was not to be missed. She obviously upheld all the social graces, making Kit feel rather lacking in her own skills. Coming of age in a Catholic orphanage was not exactly the pedigree of a polished socialite. And even with Aunt Freddy and Corazón's help, Kit knew she'd made more than her share of social errors that evening.

  "Where on earth have you been?" the woman said, never taking her gaze from Kit.

  "Getting to know the guest of honor," Fox said. "Elinor Wynn, Kathleen Shannon."

  Elinor Wynn's look was caked with ice. "Charmed."

  "How do you do, Miss Wynn?"

  "My fiancé has, for some reason, refused to seek me out."

  Fox glanced quickly at Kit, then back at Elinor. "I was talking to Miss Shannon about flying."

  "Oh, not that again. Really, Theodore." She took his arm and looked at Kit. "You don't mind, do you?" It was not a question. It had the unmistakable tone of a dismissal and something more—a warning.

  "Not at all," said Kit.

  "See you," said Fox as he was being led away, looking for a moment like a condemned prisoner. And then, with a finger pointing toward the sky, he added, "Up there."

  Kit watched until they disappeared around a corner. She felt like the proverbial fish out of water. She was no polished socialite, like Elinor Wynn. And perhaps she was merely a wide-eyed dreamer for thinking that practicing law was something within her reach. What was she doing here?

  She thought of running to her room and hiding, but her desire to please Aunt Freddy overruled such thoughts. Aunt Freddy had gone to a great deal of trouble. Kit owed it to her to see this matter to completion.

  Walking to a large gilt-framed mirror in the hallway, Kit smoothed her dress and once again struggled to rearrange her neckline. Meeting her reflection she found green eyes, green like her father's, staring back at her. She could remember many nights by the fire, sitting on her father's knee, gazing into his eyes as he read to her from the Bible. How his eyes would sparkle when he told her the great stories of the Old Testament, and the greatest story of all—Jesus of Nazareth, facing the religious hypocrisy of His day with convictions born of His divine nature, going to the cross to atone for the sins of the whole world.

  Her father had such convictions, too. And he had died for them.

  Kit knew she could easily face the benign tempest of a social fete. With a toss of her head, she strode back to the ballroom.

  Chapter Four

  IN THE DREAM a dark man held a hangman's noose. Kit didn't know if it was meant for her or for someone else. All she sensed, in this nightmare world, was that someone was going to die and she was powerless to do anything about it.

  She tried to cry out, but no sound came forth. Nor could she run.

  The dark man began to walk toward her. As he got closer, step by step, she found she could not move at all. His hands were bony, like the fingers of death. He advanced, and Kit could only watch in horror.

  When he was within two strides of her, he stopped. Stared. She could not see the face in the darkness, but she could see the noose, upheld in his emaciated hand.

  Then he pounced!

  And she awoke.

  Sitting up, trembling, Kit saw that her room was filled with the bright sunshine of a new day. The bed was soft and warm. She should have felt wonderfully refreshed, but the dread created by the bad dream—she had not had a nightmare in years—filled her with a grave sense of disquiet.

  It was just a dream, she reasoned. Probably due to all the change and commotion in her life, culminating in the big party Aunt Freddy had given the night before. But no, there was something more. . . .

  Rising, Kit went to the window and threw it open. The previous night's rain had seemingly refreshed all of creation. Warm morning air wafted in, along with the smell of laurel and sage and another smell, so sweet and pure, unlike anything she remembered from New York. It was intoxicating. She breathed in deeply and immediately forgot about the bad dream and her agitation.

  A light knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Kit said.

  Corazón entered. "Good morning, Miss."

  The sight of Corazón brought Kit all the way back to normalcy. "Come here, Corazón," Kit said. "To the window. What is that smell?"

  "Smell?"

  "Yes. Breathe it in." Kit herself took another lingering breath.

  "Ah, las naranjas!"

  "What is that?"

  "Oranges. From the grove."

  "I've heard of oranges. I don't believe I have ever seen one. Are they good to eat?"

  With a smile, Corazón said, "Very good, I think, but Madam, she does not like."

  "Yet she grows them?"

  "In Los Angeles, Miss, everyone grows las naranjas, I think."

  "Can you get me one? On the sly?" Kit was enjoying this bit of girlish conspiracy.

  "I will as you say," Corazón said. "Now would you like the bath?"

  The warm water was a tonic. Corazón, despite Kit's protestations, insisted on dutifully washing her back.

  "What time is it?" Kit asked.

  Corazón poured a generous amount of rose-scented oil onto a cloth and began massaging Kit's back. "Seven-thirty, I think."

  "Oh no! Why did no one wake me? I feel terrible! First I aggravate Aunt Freddy at the party and now I'm late for breakfast."

  "Madam is the one to say not to wake you. She is thinking you need the rest."

  "I'm sure she's thinking a whole lot more than that. My aunt Freddy is not at all pleased with me. Well, let's hurry the bath."

  Corazón poured warm water down Kit's back, then stood up. "You would like me to wash more?"

  "No," Kit replied. "You really didn't need to wash my back, but my, it did feel wonderful."

  Kit took up the abandoned washcloth and began to lather it. The soap filled the air with yet another heady scent. She had no idea what it was. This foreign land was simply filled with pleasant aromas.

  The maid smiled. "I am glad to please you."

  Kit drew the cloth over her body in rapid strokes. "I'm far more pleased by our friendship. Friends are hard to find in this world."

  "Mi madre . . ." Corazón paused, giving Kit an apologetic look. "My mother, she say a friend is a gift from God."

  "Exactly so! I couldn't have said it better. You are like a gift from God to me. Moving from one end of the country to the other was like going to the moon." As Corazón's face scrunched into a puzzled expression, Kit immediately thought of Ted Fox. No doubt he had plans for flying there himself. The thought made her flush. Thinking of Ted Fox at such a time would surely scandalize poor Aunt Freddy right out of her stockings.

  "What I mean to say," Kit continued, "is that this is all so new and exciting. No one and no sight is familiar. I think that's why I cherish our friendship more than anything."

  "Do you no have brothers and sisters, mother, father?"

  "No. My mother and father died when I was young. What of your family?"

  Corazón crossed the room to pick up a fluffy bath towel. "I am the oldest of six."

  A feeling of longing came over Kit. What would life have been like had she been blessed with family to comfort her through the years? Would she have been driven to study the law? Would she already be married with little ones clinging to her knee?

  "I'm sure they're wonderful," Kit said. She would not give herself over to sorrow for the things that could not be. She could not bring back the dead by dwelli
ng on their memory, and neither could she find any real comfort in remembering what had been taken away from her.

  With new determination, Kit finished her bath and allowed Corazón to help her towel off. Easing into yet another new silk wrapper, Kit sat down dutifully while Corazón worked on her hair.

  "Today is a new day," Kit said. "I am going downtown to walk into the offices of the attorneys. I'll march right in with my certificate of law education and ask for a position. I might just start with a lawyer someone mentioned to me on the train. I think it was Rogers . . . Earl Rogers."

  "I have heard that name," Corazón said as she pulled the brush through Kit's hair. "Yes, at a party here. Madam said he was a devil."

  "Devil?" Kit said, intrigued. She remembered how that man, Tom Phelps, had looked when he mentioned Rogers' name. Perhaps he thought of Rogers as a devil, too.

  "Yes," said Corazón, "because he takes the side of the bad man."

  "A criminal defense lawyer?"

  "I think that is right."

  Kit had never even met a criminal lawyer before. Criminal law was an entirely different world from what she had envisioned for herself. A dark world indeed.

  "I'll skip him, then. There must be a lot of other lawyers in town. What do you think?"

  "I think," said Corazón, "you are very brave."

  "What's so brave about entering a few offices?" Kit asked.

  "That is not the brave part," said Corazón. "The brave part is to face Madam when she hear about it."

  Laughing, Kit shrugged. With God, all things are possible, she thought. Even facing Aunt Freddy!

  ———

  Breakfast in the Fairbank mansion was a sumptuous affair. Kit had been here over a week and still could not get over the silver serving bowls, the sizzling meats, the fluffy eggs, and the servants. Back at Leo House in New York, where Kit had earned her keep while attending college and then law school, she had been told that one egg each week was a luxury and she would have to prepare it herself.

  Kit sat down, ready to discuss her future once and for all. But Aunt Freddy, sitting at the opposite end of the large table that could seat ten comfortably, began the conversation the moment Kit was seated.

  "Well, my dear, you've had the night to think it over," Freddy began.

  "Think what over?" Kit said, wondering what she might have overlooked. The servants, Corazón included, began dishing out the meal, seeming to pay no mind. Kit wondered about that. How much did they listen?

  "Men, of course," said Freddy. "I lost count of how many eligible men were putting out a scent."

  Oh, that, Kit thought. It was a subject of little importance to her at the moment. "I had a lovely time," said Kit, mindful of her aunt's feelings and social concerns.

  "I should say. Did any of the young men stand out for you?"

  "Aunt Freddy, I—"

  "I saw you in conversation with Mr. Frank Fante for quite some time. He's in the banking business, you know. A lot of money there."

  "Aunt Freddy—"

  "I know he's not the most handsome man this side of the Pecos, but that shouldn't be your first concern, my dear. Men can grow on you if they have the right social position. Was there anyone else?"

  Sighing, Kit said, "Lots of nice men, Aunt Freddy, but I am not desperate to find a husband. I believe in God's timing, not my own."

  "Stuff and nonsense! Catching a husband is the chief aim of a woman. It's a hunt, my dear, and you must bag a prize. Now, didn't you see any prizes in the bunch?"

  Kit thought about it. Perhaps she owed it to her aunt to at least give the night a cursory assessment. She let her memory play back pictures of the party, looking for a face that stood out, but the pictures were fuzzy. It all seemed like a whirlwind, a maelstrom of featureless people, and then one face, in detail, became fully alive in her mind.

  "Ah!" said Freddy. "I can see you've got one! Who was it?"

  "Well, if you want to know . . ." Kit said coyly.

  "Yes, yes! It was that Whitney fellow, wasn't it, the one with the cane?"

  Kit smiled mischievously, playing a game. "No, not that one. He was a handsome fellow. . . ."

  "Handsome? Let's see . . . was it the young man with the lisp?"

  "No lisp, Aunt Freddy."

  "I know!" Freddy said with a slap on the table. "It was young Fitch, the mayor's son!"

  Kit vaguely remembered meeting this one. She had thought him handsome from afar but then, after looking into his eyes and sensing a certain oddness about him, recalled that saying about all that glitters not being gold.

  "No," Kit said, "he wasn't the one, either."

  "Well," Freddy said impatiently, "what was his name then? I hope it wasn't Mr. Hoover's son. William is a bit odd. Lacks ambition, yet acts rather aloof and superior. Besides, his father is only the Chief of Police. Although it is said he desires something more."

  Kit could stand no more. "I believe he said his name was Fox."

  Kit could see Aunt Freddy's face flush from clear across the table. "Theodore Fox!" she bellowed. "Of all the men!"

  The reaction intrigued Kit. It was stronger than she had anticipated. The joke was supposed to be that Ted Fox was engaged. A subtle retort filled with social indignity would have been called for. But Aunt Freddy seemed almost angry.

  "Why?" Kit prodded. "He seemed perfectly charming."

  "You will have nothing to do with Theodore Fox, Kathleen Shannon! For one thing, he is spoken for. He is going to marry Elinor Wynn, who is from one of the finest families in the city. If you were ever to come between those two, it would be a scandal! I wouldn't be able to show my face anywhere in town!"

  That much was no doubt true, Kit conceded. And she had no intention of breaking up that engagement. Ted Fox was not the object of her affections, only the most interesting man at the party. She merely wanted to know more about him.

  "And another thing," Freddy said seriously. "Theodore Fox comes from a wealthy family, a fine Protestant family, but he has been trouble for them his whole life."

  "How so?" Kit said, now uncontrollably interested.

  "Well," said Freddy, appearing to slide into a social gossip mode, "his mother has told me that he's always been a bit on the dangerous side."

  "Dangerous?" That was not a word Kit would have associated with Ted Fox.

  "He was always getting into fights as a boy," Freddy continued, "and that hasn't stopped. He was expelled from Northwestern University for a fight, and then he ran off on a steamer ship. No one heard from him for a year. When he got back there was talk . . ." Aunt Freddy's voice dropped, " . . . that he had killed a man."

  For some strange reason, Kit felt herself wanting to defend Ted Fox. It was absurd, she realized, for she hardly knew the man. Yet she had the odd feeling that Fox was being unjustly accused, and her lawyer's instinct was to wait until the evidence was in before reaching a verdict.

  "If that is so," Kit said, "then why is a socialite like Elinor Wynn consenting to marry him?"

  "Elinor Wynn is another matter," said Aunt Freddy. "She is rather spoiled, and she has decided that she is in love with Ted Fox. Perhaps it's that sense of danger that makes a woman lose her head sometimes. Regardless, she wants Ted Fox as her husband. And what Elinor Wynn wants, Elinor Wynn gets. It has always been so."

  Kit decided to press the matter just a little further. "I wonder what he sees in Miss Wynn."

  Squinting, Aunt Freddy said, "Don't you be getting jealous, young lady."

  "I'm not!" Kit said indignantly. "I merely find it a puzzle."

  "You keep your sights off of Ted Fox. There are many fish in our little ocean. Look to hook one that isn't already hooked."

  Now was the time to strike. "Aunt Freddy, I am very grateful for all you've done for me. The party last night was wonderful and a lovely thing to do. But I have to confess that my concern is not to find a man to marry. That will come in time. I have come here to practice law. That is what I have been preparing myself for. I am not go
ing to give that up."

  The two women had not touched one morsel on their china plates, and Kit realized that the servants were standing at the sides, unsure of what to do. She caught the eye of Corazón, who gave her a quick smile and then, just as quickly, recaptured the stoic expression that was proper for her station.

  Sighing heavily, Aunt Freddy said, "I thought Mr. Sloate made it abundantly clear—"

  "Mr. Sloate attempted, at your insistence, to give me reasons not to pursue this dream. He did not make his case."

  "Heath Sloate is the most powerful lawyer in all of Los Angeles, perhaps the entire West. He knows what he is talking about, child. You would be wise to listen to him."

  "I must listen to God first, Aunt Freddy."

  "All this talk of God! I won't have any more of it. Leave God to your religion, but leave your life to those who know best."

  "Aunt Freddy, I know you mean well, and you've already done so much for me." Kit touched the embroidered pleating of her stylish morning dress. "I don't want to seem ungrateful, but––"

  "You must abide by the rules, and there are many, if you are to survive and be accepted. Do you have any idea of your inept social skills? Are you not aware of your mistakes and lack of understanding? These things are important."

  "I never meant to embarrass you. As you might recall, I asked you not to show me off to your friends."

  "That is not the point," the older woman replied. "The point of this matter is that you are educated for the wrong things. In this town, in my world, you need something more than book learning. Especially books on law. You need firm lessons in etiquette. I have a book for you to read. Corazón has taken it to your room. I suggest you study it, as you would those law books, so we can be better prepare to continue your introduction to society. High society rules this city—indeed, the very course of lives both rich and poor. You should know that from your life in New York."

  "Society does not rule my life in any way, Aunt Freddy. Papa always said that Jesus must rule as king if He is to redeem as Savior."

  "Stuff and nonsense. Jesus isn't here to tell you whether practicing law is good for you. But Heath Sloate is. He knows this town and he knows the law—probably better than anyone you've ever managed to keep company with. Heath Sloate is well respected and feared throughout the state. You would do well to heed what he has to say."