Nodding back, Marjorie whispered, “Stay here and practice walking.” She demonstrated with her fingers. “I’ll peek outside and see if we can get to the gangplank.” Borrowing from Loretta, Marjorie gestured broadly to indicate her purpose. Another nod made her hope she’d made herself clear.
So, while Jia Lee walked circles in the cabin, Marjorie sneaked out the cabin door, praying they’d be able to make their way to the gangplank unobserved.
The gangplank wasn’t there.
What Marjorie saw when she went outside was so horrifying that she sank to her knees. The boat had left the pier. Nothing connected them to the shore but the black, freezing, bitter, murderous depths of the Pacific Ocean.
Och, God, nae. For pity’s sake dinna do this to me.
But He had.
Chapter Fifteen
The police officer frowned at his notebook. “You don’t have any idea which way the automobile went?”
“No. I’ve already told you that a million times.”
“Yes, ma’am. Just trying to make everything clear in my mind.”
Loretta rolled her eyes. Jason couldn’t blame her, as the policeman seemed rather a dim bulb, but he didn’t want to rile the man. He needed the police department’s help now as he’d never needed it before.
“And you, sir,” said the office, turning to Jason, “you say you don’t know where they might be taking the girl?”
Jason shook his head. “They might be taking her to Chinatown. But I don’t know. They might just as well be taking her to Timbuktu. I suspect the men who carried her off were hired by the importer, who’s a white man. And I don’t know who he is. Or where he is. Or what he’s going to do with Jia Lee. Damn it!”
He whirled around to pace away in the opposite direction, running a hand through his already wildly disarranged hair and cursing himself for not having found out the villain’s identity before this. It was his fault. It must be his fault! And Marjorie was in their clutches now as certainly as was Jai Lee. And it was all his fault. What an ass he was!
As he passed the chair in which Loretta sat, she reached out to take his arm. “Try not to worry, Jason. Marjorie a resourceful woman. I’m sure she’ll be all right.”
“Resourceful?” He stared at Loretta. “How can resourcefulness help her against armed thugs?”
With a sniff, Loretta said, “You don’t give her enough credit. You never have.”
The policeman cleared his throat. “And you say this Chinese woman was named . . .” He squinted doubtfully at his pad.
“Jia Lee,” Jason said harshly. He was accustomed to the San Francisco Police Department’s unfamiliarity with the city’s Chinese citizens. The police and the politicians liked to pretend the Chinese didn’t exist—unless they wanted some illicit fun. They made him sick. He spelled the name carefully, not that it would matter. “J-i-a L-e-e, I guess is the best way to spell it.”
“I see. And the other woman is MacTavish?”
“Yes. M-a-c-T-a-v-i-s-h. Red hair. She was wearing a brown-and-white striped dress.”
“Brown and cream,” Loretta muttered.
Jason waved an arm in the air. “What difference does it make? She could be anywhere!”
“Try not to panic, Jason. Panicking won’t help anything.”
Jason glared at Loretta. They were in Loretta’s front parlor, and the nanny had just taken the babies upstairs for their nap. Malachai was out with Derrick Peavey in a no-doubt futile effort to garner information about the vanished automobile. He’d mentioned that someone might have noticed a speeding vehicle with a woman clinging to the back.
And that was another thing: what if she’d fallen off? What if right this very minute, she was lying somewhere, bleeding and unconscious after having lost her grip? Why the devil had she done so damn-fool a thing?
For that matter, why had she left him without a word? Had she awakened and been embarrassed? Had he done something she’d taken exception to? From his perspective, their love-making had been nothing short of magnificent, and he knew she’d enjoyed it. He’d felt it. He knew.
Damn her anyway! At least Mai had been predictable. Marjorie was such a complicated person, he never knew what she was going to do next. And half the time, she did exactly the opposite of what he would have predicted, had he been in the habit of predicting.
Mai was a slave. Marjorie is a free and independent woman, the voice in his head told him. He was beginning to hate that damned voice. Besides, she wasn’t that all-fired independent. She was a slave to convention, dash it. His voice said, Pooh. You’re assigning traits to her based on your own life. What do you know what’s gone in to making her the woman you love?
The woman he loved? Oh, God, he did love her. He ran his fingers through his hair for approximately the hundredth time that day.
“If you don’t stop that, Jason Abernathy, you’re going to pull all your hair out.” Loretta’s voice was sharp. “It’s not doing any good, and you’re making me nervous.”
He turned on her, glad to have a target for his anxiety. “Making you nervous! If you aren’t nervous already, you’re a damned piece of stone, Loretta Linden!”
“Quarles,” she said drily. “And don’t be an idiot, Jason. Of course, I’m worried. But pacing back and forth and pulling your hair out isn’t going to accomplish anything but exhaust you and make you bald.”
“Damn it!”
When the telephone rang a second later, it so startled Jason that he let out a yell, then felt stupid. Loretta, preempting her housekeeper, hurried to the telephone room to answer it, Jason and the policeman hard on her heels.
Jason almost succumbed to the urge to yank the receiver out of Loretta’s hand. Only the knowledge that Loretta would probably bash him with it, and that to do so would only serve to prove her right on the idiot issue, prevented him. He fulminated, however, feeling rather like a volcano about to erupt as he listened.
“You’re where?” Loretta sounded incredulous. “The pier? Good Lord, Marjorie, what are you doing there?”
As soon as he heard the word Marjorie, Jason’s knees gave out on him, and he had to clutch the door jamb to remain upright.
Jason watched Loretta’s eyes grow wider and rounder as she listened. His skin itched and he had to stuff his hands in his pockets to prevent them from getting away from him. He hissed, “What? What’s she saying? Where is she?”
Flapping a hand at him in order to silence him, Loretta continued to listen, emitting the occasional gasp. Once she said, “You what? Oh, Marjorie!”
Jason damned near suffered a spasm.
After what seemed like an hour, at least, Loretta replaced the receiver in the cradle and turned around. She smiled.
“What?” Jason shrieked. “Damn it, Loretta, what did she say?”
Bullying Loretta Quarles was never the right thing to do, and Jason wouldn’t have done such a stupid thing had he been thinking clearly. But his thought processes had been scrambled like breakfast eggs several hours earlier. He took Loretta by the shoulders and shook her.
“Here now, there’s no need for that,” the policeman said reprovingly.
Realizing what he had done, Jason released Loretta as he might drop a hot rock. Passing a hand across his eyes, he muttered, “Sorry. I’m going crazy.”
Loretta patted him on the shoulder. “There, there, Jason, I know you’re worried. Come into the parlor and I’ll tell you all about it.”
He sucked in a gallon or two of air, intending to use it to shriek again, but Loretta saved him the effort by saying, “She’s fine, Jason. And so is Jia Lee.”
The breath went out of him in a whoosh, and he followed her meekly back into the parlor. This time, he sat. In fact, he more or less collapsed onto a nearby sofa. All of his pent-up energy had deserted him as soon as he heard Loretta say the magic words affirming Marjorie’s welfare, and he now felt as limp as a wet washrag.
“You look terrible, Jason,” Loretta said.
To Jason’s ears
, there was a considerable lack of concern in the words. He didn’t snap at her. “I feel terrible. So tell us. What’s going on?”
Glancing up at the policeman, Loretta said politely, “Why don’t you take a seat, Sergeant Harkwright? I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable sitting.”
Jason gritted his teeth. Was the damned woman deliberately prolonging his pain? He’d always believed them to be friends, but a friend wouldn’t stretch out his agony in this inconsiderate way.
“Thank you, ma’am, but I’m used to standing.”
Unable to stand it any longer himself, Jason barked out, “Get on with it, will you?”
“For heaven’s sake, Jason, control yourself!”
Jason said, “Hrrrrr.”
“All right. First of all, both Marjorie and Jia Lee are all right. At present, they’re at the Police Station on Front and the Embarcadero. Evidently, Marjorie had to rescue Jia Lee from the kidnappers.”
“She did that alone?” roared Jason. “Damn the woman!”
Frowning, Loretta said icily, “I gather there wasn’t time for her to fetch help. Not,” she added, this time showering her frown upon the policeman, who didn’t seem to notice, “that the police would have done anything to rescue Jia Lee, I’m sure.”
Sergeant Harkwright said nothing.
Through his teeth, Jason ground out, “Go on.”
“That’s all.” Loretta shrugged.
“That’s all?” Jason jumped to his feet. “What do you mean, ‘that’s all’?” Rushing to the door of the parlor, he said, “I’ve got to get down there now.”
“Jason! Stop it!”
Loretta’s peremptory command actually did stop Jason. He spun around and pinned her with a gaze of frantic intensity. “But I have to get Marjorie.”
Rising majestically—quite a feat for so small a woman—Loretta said, “We’ll all go. I have to take Marjorie some clothes. And Jia Lee, too, I’m sure.”
“Clothes?” Unaccustomed to feeling frantic, Jason didn’t appreciate it when panic nudged the earlier emotion aside and started jumping up and down on his nerve endings. “Clothes?” Good God, what had happened? His jaw bulging, Jason rasped out, “If those maniacs so much as touched Marjorie, by God, I’ll kill them all.”
“I told you they’re both fine,” Loretta snapped. “Now come with me and do something useful, will you? I’m tired of all this drama, Jason Abernathy.”
“Drama?” Jason resented that.
She grabbed him by the hand and tugged. “Yes. Stop it this instant, and help me.” Over her shoulder, she said, “We’ll be right back, Sergeant Harkwright, and then we can all go to the police station.”
“I don’t understand,” mumbled Jason. But he obediently followed Loretta down the hall and through the kitchen to Marjorie’s improvised bedroom.
There he assisted Loretta gather up two complete sets of clothing, from underwear to sweaters. Loretta stacked everything into a neat bundle, tied it with string, and turned to Jason, thrusting the bundle into his arms.
“I have to tell Mrs. Brandeis where we’re going and fetch my hat and coat. I can trust Mrs. Brandeis to tell Malachai where we are. Wait in the parlor with the policeman, will you? And don’t do anything stupid.”
Numbly, Jason nodded. Then, like a trained puppy, he dragged himself and the bundle of clothes back to the parlor, where he sat on the sofa and waited for Loretta.
# # #
Huddled in a hard, wooden, straight-backed chair, shivering and hugging a scratchy woolen blanket around her shoulders, Marjorie wondered if Loretta would ever get there. Jia Lee, in a similar condition, sagged in the chair next to her. Every now and then, when she remembered to do so, Marjorie patted the other woman on the arm, attempting in that way to give her courage. Too bad nobody was giving her any.
A foghorn sounded mournfully in the distance, and Marjorie wondered if Hamilton St. Claire had discovered he was missing a captive yet. And would the fog interfere with his navigating his yacht? She sincerely hoped so.
Envisioning Hamilton finding that Jia Lee had fled, Marjorie actually allowed herself to feel satisfaction. Her mind formed a mental picture of him: first incredulous, then horrified, and then so angry that she allowed him to jump up and down in the cabin of his yacht, making it rock so hard it sank.
But no. She wouldn’t mind if Hamilton St. Claire died. God knew, he didn’t deserve to live, but Marjorie didn’t want him sharing the same ocean as her late, beloved Leonard.
It’s’na the same ocean, Marjorie MacTavish. This is the Pacific. That was the Atlantic.
Well, perhaps. She still didn’t like the notion of Hamilton and Leonard having anything at all in common with each other, even their deaths. Anyhow, it might be preferable if Hamilton had to face the consequences of his bad acts and endure a trial, although Marjorie wasn’t sure the authorities would care much about a Chinese woman or a Scottish immigrant.
Codswallop. Where was Loretta?
“Would you care for more tea, Miss MacTavish?”
Marjorie looked up at the young police officer and smiled. “No, thank you.” She didn’t know how he could call this slop tea, but she was grateful that he was kind, even if he couldn’t tell tea from dish water.
“And you, ma’am?” The young man lifted an eyebrow at Jia Lee, who stared at him dumbly.
Thinking that at least she could help in this instance, Marjorie asked Jia Lee in her limited Chinese if she’d like another cup of tea. Jia Lee shook her head. The poor thing looked even more miserable than Marjorie felt, although that seemed unlikely, since Marjorie felt ghastly.
But she’d survived. By God, she’d more than survived. She’d defied her fears, boarded a boat, rescued Jia Lee from a hideous death by drowning, swum in the sea, and they’d both survived. She felt rather heroic, in fact. If she didn’t also feel bedraggled, wet, cold, salty, sore, embarrassed—she’d actually appeared in front of perfect strangers practically naked—and itchy, she’d probably be enjoying her victory. As it was, well . . .
Where the devil was Loretta?
Marjorie didn’t know how long she’d sat in that hard chair, freezing cold and uncomfortable and wishing herself elsewhere, but she’d almost succumbed to her exhaustion and nodded off when a loud cry startled her into sitting bolt upright, scanning the room for villains.
“My God, Marjorie, you look like the wrath of God!”
Jason! It would be Jason. Confound him!
“Oh, Marjorie, you poor thing!”
And that was Loretta. Thank the good Lord for friends. By the time Marjorie had struggled to stand up, Loretta had hurled herself at her and flung her arms around her, and Marjorie decided she could shoot Jason later. Right now, she needed the comfort of a friend’s caring.
Since Loretta was so much shorter than she and she had a perfect view of the room—and Jason—Marjorie gaped in astonishment when Jia Lee, too, leaped up from her chair. Then, dropping both her blanket and her stoicism, Jia Lee broke out into tears and ran straight into Jason’s arms.
Well!
# # #
“I keep telling you it wasn’t my fault.” Feeling abused and misunderstood, Jason once again paced Loretta and Malachai’s front parlor. Marjorie and Jia Lee were both in their rooms off the kitchen, washing up. Marjorie would come to the parlor shortly to explain what had happened.
“It’s all your fault, actually,” said Loretta without heat. “But I’m not blaming you for bringing the poor girl here. What will become of her now?”
With a shrug, Jason said, “I don’t know. I’ll have to find work for her, I guess. She’ll have to stay here, since there’s nothing for her in China any longer.”
“Will there be trouble with the tongs?” Malachai had come home shortly before Loretta and Jason had brought Marjorie and Jia Lee back to the Quarleses’ Russian Hill home.
Jason shook his head. Then he nodded. Then he sighed heavily and said, “Damned if I know. Maybe not, with St. Claire out of the way. The
tongs will probably be happy if I give each of them a cash payment to make up for their losses.”
“Their losses?” Malachai’s left eyebrow quirked.
“Both the Chan tong and the Gao tong paid for her. If I repay each of them, they won’t have anything left to gripe about. I hope.”
“It’s still hard for me to feature Hamilton St. Claire as a died-in-the-wool villain,” said Loretta, shaking her head. “Just imagine. He seems like such a . . . conventional prig.”
“He’s a swine,” said Jason, who’d had good reason to dislike St. Claire even before he learned of his criminous career as an importer of Chinese singsong girls.
“His family is wealthy. I don’t understand why he felt the need to do something so vile.” Loretta shook her head. She held Olivia, and Oliver resided in Malachai’s arms, propped against his shoulder, sound asleep.
It amused Jason to see the rugged sea captain so encumbered. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe Marjorie will be able to shed some light on the situation.”
Loretta glanced at the ornate clock on the mantelpiece, but shook her head. “Olivia’s had her fingers all over my eyeglasses, and I can’t see the time.”
Jason, who had been paying close attention to that clock, said, “It’s a quarter past four. How long does it take a woman to get dressed, anyhow?”
“A long time, I suspect, if she’s nearly been drowned in the ocean,” said Loretta tartly. She’ll have to wash her hair, and you know our Marjorie. She probably won’t want to come in while her hair is still damp. She’s such a proper young woman, you know.”
With a shudder, Jason wished Loretta hadn’t mentioned the ocean part of this debacle. Poor Marjorie. How ever had she overcome her terror of the sea to effect the rescue of Jia Lee? And her hair. He closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her glorious hair as they’d made love. God, he wanted her. He loved her. He was, by God, going to get her to marry him.
Perfect Wedding Page 24
