Scarlet Spirits

by Alice Duncan

  “Yeah,” said Lou Prophet as if he didn’t want to. “She’s tellin’ the truth.”

  Li gave him an approving look, too, although he ignored her quite nicely.

  Sam nodded as well, not so approvingly. “I’d rather speak to her today, but—”

  “She didn’t see anything,” Li interrupted. “I was with her at the time of the shooting. We were walking in the orchard when we heard the gunfire. Sally nearly fainted. Although I tried to dissuade her, she insisted on seeing what had happened. Fortunately for all of us, Missus Majesty and Mister Prophet tried to hide the body from us, but she managed to catch a glimpse of it. I don’t think she knew it was Tucker.”

  “So this Tucker character was really important to her?” asked Sam.

  After giving a ghastly grimace, Li said, “Yes. She thought she loved him.”

  “Thought?”

  “Yes. He’s…he was a terrible man. He’s the one who began giving her laudanum and chloral.”

  “Ah,” said Sam.

  “Anyhow, Sally saw the body. Luckily, she didn’t know it was Tucker. There was a whole pile of orange blossoms on Tucker’s body. Not sure how they got there, but they disguised his face.”

  “Mister Prophet shook the tree,” I told her. “He didn’t want anyone else to see the man lying there dead.”

  “Did you really, Lou?” Li gazed at Mr. Prophet, plainly pleased with her former whatever-he’d-been-to-her’s effort at deception.

  “Yeah. Didn’t think anybody else needed to know what’d happened.”

  Li kissed him on the cheek. Mr. Prophet didn’t blush, so I did it for him. I know, how silly of me. Sometimes I can’t help being a sloppy sentimentalist. Too often, in fact.

  Finally Sam agreed to question Sally later, if at all. From the way Angie spoke about both Sally and Mr. Tucker, I doubted Sam would learn much from Sally, whom I had already judged to be a too-tender twig upon which to rely. Unless, of course, I was wrong, and Sally was just a good actress. I didn’t think so, though.

  “How’d Mr. Tucker know where to find Sally?” I asked somewhere in the midst of these proceedings.

  A chorus of “I don’t know’s” answered my question, which was most unsatisfactory. However, I let the matter slide, knowing Sam would get mad if I butted in any more.

  When it was time to leave, Angie said she, Hattie and Cyrus would stay at Orange Acres for a while, if it would be all right with Sam. By then, Li had a firm grip on Mr. Prophet’s arm and didn’t look as if she aimed to let it go.

  Uncertain what was going on with the two of them or what, if anything, I should do about it, I said, “Um…Mister Prophet, would you like to ride back home with me? In the Chevrolet?”

  He glanced down at Li, who glanced up at him, and a slow smile appeared on his face. “I reckon I’ll stay here for a bit, Miss Daisy. I’m sure Missus Mainwaring won’t mind hauling my sorry butt back to Marengo Avenue later on.”

  “Not at all, Lou,” said Angie, who looked worn out and more than a little tired of the day that had begun so well. “I still have to pay you back. With interest.” From the way she spoke, it sounded as if she’d rather beat him to a bloody pulp.

  “We can negotiate a bit on that,” said Prophet. “The interest part, I mean.”

  All at once I knew precisely how Prophet expected to receive at least partial payment in return for the funds Angie had stolen from him.

  I felt my face flame again when Sam walked me out to the Chevrolet. When I glanced up at him, he had a smirk on his face, so I knew he knew, too.

  Ah, well, they (whoever “they” are) say prostitution is the world’s oldest profession. But I’d thought Angie had left that despicable life behind her. On the other hand, from the way Li hung on to his arm, I doubted she aimed to charge for her services to the old reprobate. Lou Prophet, I mean.

  When we got to my motorcar, Sam opened the driver’s side door for me. “Would you like Steve Doan to ride with you, Daisy? I have to get back to the department, and I know you’ve been through a frightening experience.”

  “Thanks, Sam, but I’m all right.” Then I burst out, “But Mister Prophet is staying here! Sam, he and Li are—”

  With a laugh, he interrupted me. “Yes, they are, aren’t they? Don’t worry about Lou. I think he’ll be just fine.” I’d opened my mouth to ask about Li, when Sam said, “And Miss Li seems to be doing just fine on her own.”

  “Well…” Since I didn’t know what more to say, I remained silent. Doesn’t happen often with me, but this was embarrassing ground upon which to tread, if you were me. Heck, Sam and I sometimes did what I expected Mr. Prophet and Li would be doing—and shortly—but Sam and I were going to be married as soon as we could be! Mr. Prophet and Li were…

  Nertz.

  “It’s all right, Daisy. Both Lou and Miss Li are grown-ups. Besides, Lou is Lou, and you’ll never change him.”

  “I…I guess you’re right, but what about Li?”

  “Miss Li doesn’t seem to me to be a shy and retiring lady. I have a feeling she won’t do anything she doesn’t damned well want to do.”

  I heaved a deep sigh. “You’re probably right. But…Well, I…I guess I know from books and stuff that people acted like that, but…well, I’m not used to seeing it in person.”

  “I’ll show you how it’s done if you like, although I thought you already—”

  “Sam! You know what I meant! It’s not the same at all. With us, I mean.”

  With a wicked grin, Sam said, “Stuff like what’s going to go on in Mrs. Mainwaring’s house probably happens all the time in Tombstone.”

  “According to Mister Prophet, even Tombstone is becoming civilized. He doesn’t seem to appreciate it, either.”

  This won a laugh from Sam. “I’m sure he hates civilization. Face it, Daisy, Lou will never become a reformed character. In fact, if you want to know the truth, I don’t want him to reform. He’s more fun the way he is.”

  “Fun?” Had Sam just called Lou Prophet fun?

  By golly, he had. And, also by golly, he was right!

  “You’re right, Sam. He’s a curious character for Pasadena, but I’m glad he ended up here, even if he is kind of a misfit.”

  “Kind of?”

  “Very well. He’s a big one.”

  Mr. Prophet hadn’t returned from Mrs. Mainwaring’s Orange Acres by the time Vi had dinner ready for us. I’d set the table, and it was just my family (including Sam) who dined on Vi’s spectacular chicken and dumplings that evening.

  “Where’s Mister Prophet?” asked Ma, who seemed determined to take Mr. Lou Prophet, of all unlikely—and probably undeserving—people, under her wing.

  “I’m not sure, Ma,” I said, glancing at Sam.

  Drat the man, he didn’t say a word, so I had to come up with an excuse for the old sinner by myself.

  “Um…He met an old friend at Missus Mainwaring’s orange orchard. He decided to stay there and…catch up on old times.”

  There. That was almost the truth. When I again peered at Sam, he had a big grin on his face, the rat.

  “Oh, I thought he didn’t know Missus Mainwaring,” said Ma, who liked things to be clear in her mind.

  “It was another…person there whom he knew,” I said. Very well, so I stretched the truth a bit on that one.

  “My goodness. I had no idea there were people in Pasadena a man like Mister Prophet might know.” When she heard what she’s said, Ma flushed. “I mean, I didn’t think he knew anybody in Pasadena but us.”

  “He’d met this person before,” I told her. “In Tombstone. You remember Missus Mainwaring used to live in Tombstone, too, although she and Mister Prophet didn’t know each other there.” Leastways, they’d not wanted to admit their acquaintanceship. “The person he wanted to chat with is someone else.”

  My mother is entirely too smart to allow such enigmatic commentary to pass without remarking on it.

  “You keep saying ‘this person,’ Daisy, and I think you�
��re equivocating unnecessarily. Do you mean she’s an old female acquaintance of his? An old flame, perhaps?” Ma smiled and looked demure. She liked a good love story as well as anyone. Even if Lou and Li’s wasn’t one. A love story, I mean. At least I kind of doubted it was.

  “Exactly,” I said. “They were happy to re-meet. Or whatever you call it. Get reacquainted, I guess.”

  I noticed Sam chewing quietly, his shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress his guffaws, and I wished we were already married and in our own home. If we were, I’d throw a dumpling at him. Only I couldn’t make a dumpling any more than I could make magic.

  Sometimes life is really annoying.

  Sixteen

  I don’t know how long Spike and I had been sleeping the sleep of innocents—or innocence—I’m not sure what the precise term is. Anyway, I probably don’t qualify for either one, although Spike sure does.

  How’d I get sidetracked already? Don’t bother even trying to figure it out.

  At any rate, a soft knocking on my bedroom door—the one leading to the deck outside—startled me awake and roused Spike to utter a subdued bark. If he’d been more awake, he’d probably have barked louder, so it’s a good thing he wasn’t. Half-asleep and groggy, I sort of fell out of the bed and staggered to the door. Spike raced ahead of me, wagging like mad. Wagging on his part generally meant the knocker was a friend; however, because I wasn’t completely over my fear that someone might be out there with a gun, ready to shoot me to pieces, I didn’t instantly open the door. Rather, I stood close to the crack and whispered, “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” said Sam. “And Lou. Open up. We need you.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “We need you,” Sam whispered with some urgency. “Open the door.”

  “Why?”

  “Just open the damned door, will you?” said my charming spouse-to-be.

  So, after grabbing my robe from where I’d tossed it on the foot of the bed, I opened the door—very slowly. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I already didn’t like it.

  Sam and Mr. Prophet shoved me aside and entered the room. Spike started leaping on them, but a sternly whispered, “Spike, sit,” from me interrupted his gleeful greeting. He sat. I squinted into the darkness

  “What’s going on?” I asked in a whisper.

  “Is everything all right in there?” came my father’s voice from the kitchen. “Are you all right, Daisy? I heard Spike bark.”

  “Everything’s fine, Pa,” I said, wondering if I’d just lied. “I rolled over onto poor Spike, and he protested.”

  My father laughed and said, “All right. Just wondered. Sleep tight.”

  “You, too. Thanks, Pa.”

  Then I stared, thinking I must be in the middle of a nightmare when Sam and Mr. Prophet, each carrying a limb of the unconscious Li, walked her to my bed. “What the—?”

  “May we lay her on your bed, Daisy? I don’t think she’s bleeding anymore.”

  I gaped at my fiancé. “Bleeding?”

  “She’s not bleeding,” Sam said in a savage whisper. Without waiting for my permission, he told Mr. Prophet, “Put her on the bed, Lou.” Turning to me, he said, “Can you boil some water for tea or something?”

  “Tea, hell,” said Mr. Prophet. “She can sip some of this here good tanglefoot.” He took a flask from somewhere on his person, probably a pocket, and uncorked it.

  Tanglefoot? I’d heard him call rye whiskey tangleleg. Maybe tanglefoot meant tangleleg, and the two words meant the same thing: whiskey. Three words. However many words there were. I was too groggy to count.

  Li had begun to stir. Mr. Prophet went to where her head rested and put one of his big hands over her mouth, I guess so she couldn’t cry out or scream or anything. He still held the flask upright and ready. He’d spilled a bottle of what he’d called good rye whiskey on Sam’s horrid nephew, Frank Pagano, a month or so earlier, and I guess he was being careful not to spill any of his current stock of the precious stuff on Li.

  “What the heck is going on?” I asked again. “What happened to Li?”

  “I’ll have to tell you later, Daisy,” Sam said.

  “The heck with later! I want to know, and I want to know now!”

  “No sense keepin’ it from her, Sam,” said Mr. Prophet. Never thought I’d consider him the voice of reason, but in this case I did. “Her brothers come from China to take her back.”

  “They what?” Thinking I wasn’t sufficiently conscious yet, I shook my head hard. Didn’t help.

  “You heard him,” said Sam.

  “How did they know she was here?” I thought the question pertinent, but neither man answered it.

  Sam went on, “When Missus Mainwaring brought Lou and Miss Li back home, three big Chinese fellows were waiting for them, and tried to grab Miss Li. That’s the story I got from Lou, anyhow.”

  “It’s the truth, dammit,” said Mr. Prophet.

  “Oh, stop swearing!” I groused at him. He shook his head and snarled, sounding not unlike Spike when we played a game of tug.

  “Leave him be, Daisy. He’s worried about Miss Li. According to him and Missus Mainwaring, three men claiming to be Miss Li’s brothers were waiting at the gate.”

  “Yeah,” said Prophet. “Good thing Cyrus used to be a championship boxer.”

  “Cyrus? Missus Mainwaring’s chauffeur?”

  “Cyrus Potts. Yes. He’s Hattie’s husband,” said Sam. “And he serves as Missus Mainwaring’s bodyguard.”

  “Good Lord. I didn’t know she needed one!”

  “Ain’t you been payin’ attention, Miss Daisy?” asked Mr. Prophet, looking at me as if I were one of the duller knives in the drawer of his life. “She used to run a whorehouse in Tombstone, fer cripe’s sake, and a man tried to shoot her today. She tries to save whores from their lives of sin and degradation—or so she claims. You think the fellers who run them houses are just gonna let her do that without objecting?”

  “But…but I thought the man you shot today had come after Sally.”

  “He probably did, but he aimed to get Angie first,” said Mr. Prophet. “Anyhow, there’s a lot more where they came from.”

  “I thought you said this latest batch came from China.”

  Impatient, Sam said, “Yes. Three of them. They are from China, and they damned near carried Li back to China with them. Good thing Lou’s got a Bowie knife and knows how to use it. And Cyrus is a fighter. And Missus Mainwaring doesn’t mind hitting people over the head with heavy objects.”

  “Good heavens.”

  “I doubt good or heaven has anything to do with the current circumstances. Lou tied them all up and came to fetch me. Cyrus is going to see if he can borrow his brother and his brother’s truck and drive the three Chinamen to the Port of Los Angeles. There, they’ll send them on a steamer back to China. Unfortunately, they managed to hurt Miss Li before Cyrus, Lou and Missus Mainwaring subdued them.”

  I looked at Mr. Prophet and said, “Did you use your ketch rope?” Don’t ask me where that question came from, because I don’t know. Lucidity wasn’t my best pal after I’d been rudely awakened from my beauty sleep, I guess.

  Squinting at me, Prophet said, “My ketch— Who the hell cares?”

  I flinched but didn’t chide him for his use of bad language this time. Wouldn’t have done any good anyway.

  He went on, “I tied ‘em up, and we’re gonna load them into the bed of Cyrus’s brother’s truck, and they’re going to drive them to the ocean and send them back to where they came from.”

  “You say they came for Li? Why?” If anyone cares, I was still whispering.

  “Yes,” said Sam, also still whispering. “Missus Mainwaring said they’re her brothers, and they wanted to take her back to Canton, because she’s worth a lot of money. Evidently, when she left China, she did so because her father aimed to sell her to man she didn’t like.”

  “Her father wanted to sell her?” Incredulous only partially describes my fuddl
ed thought processes.

  “She ran away from home,” said Prophet.

  “She ran a long way, if she came all the way from China,” I muttered.

  “Can we talk about this later?” asked Sam. “Missus Mainwaring plans to give the men enough money to make up for Li’s father’s loss, but we have to get rid of them before morning. We don’t want the whole neighborhood to know what’s going on.”

  “Yeah,” said Prophet. “Just take care of Li for a few minutes, will you, Miss Daisy? Then we’ll come back, and I’ll take her to Angie’s place.”

  I looked doubtfully from his face to his peg. He shook his head and said, “Kee-rist! Will you just trust me for a few minutes? Or trust Sam, if you don’t trust me.”

  “Listen, Daisy,” said Sam. “I don’t like this any better than you do, but if we get the police involved, it’s going to get complicated. In fact, it’ll probably involve the federal governments in two countries, and I don’t want to go through that. Neither do Miss Li, Lou or Missus Mainwaring. And I really don’t want everyone in the neighborhood to know what’s happened tonight.”

  “I can’t believe her father was going to sell her,” I said, zeroing in on the main point of Sam’s speech and glancing at Li.

  Her eyes had opened, and evidently she’d been listening to us chat. If you can call it chatting. “Believe it,” she sort of croaked. “Common practice where I come from.”

  “Oh.” Well, all right then, that knocked the wind out of my sails.

  “Please, Daisy?” Li pleaded. “I’ll tell you everything while Lou and your detective get my loathsome brothers out of Pasadena.”

  “Of course. Of course,” I said. “Sure. Happy to help.”

  What was one more little lie? For the good Lord’s sake, I lied for a living. At least I’d be helping Li and Angie with this lie. At any rate, I hoped I would be.

  “But you’ll have to tell me everything when you get back, Sam Rotondo.”

  With a mock salute at me, Sam said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Shit. Let’s get out of here.” Mr. Prophet pointed a finger at Li. “And you. Stay here until we get back. Need a shot of this?” He held up his open flask.