Gabriel's Fate Page 31

  “Did you shoot me?” he asked, keeping his tone conversational. They had a lot of things to discuss, but he figured they should take care of first things first.

  “I—I don’t know.”

  She lifted her head. Her eyes streamed tears, and she wiped them, leaving a smudgy dark streak across her cheek. Gabriel used his thumb to clean the streak. Then he kissed the spot. He couldn’t seem to help himself. “Well, I felt something. A big pain in my arm.”

  Nodding, Sophie said, “Yes. I—I don’t know what happened.”

  “You didn’t see?”

  “No. Yes. Well—I don’t know. I was—everything happened so fast. And there was this huge flash of light.”

  “A flash of light?”

  “Yes.”

  Dmitri limped over to them. “Magic,” he said.

  Sophie and Gabriel stared at each other for a long time. Then, slowly, Sophie nodded.

  Well, hell. Gabriel struggled to his feet and helped Sophie to rise. “I reckon we’ll have to figure it out later. We’d better see what’s happing with Hardwick now.” He turned to Dmitri. “Would you mind looking for the gun? Sophie seems to have dropped it.”

  Sophie peered at her empty hands and shuddered. Gabriel took her firmly by the arm, prepared to lead her out onto Grant. She was going to face the result of her quest for vengeance here and now. Then maybe they could get on with the rest of their lives. Together.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The tall Chinese gentleman shook his head. “Sorry, Mr. Caine. You won’t find a Chinese in San Francisco who’ll touch a white man.”

  Several other Chinese men crowded the accident scene. When Gabriel glanced at them, they shook their heads, too, confirming the tall man’s pronouncement.

  “Not even to save his life? Take him to a hospital or something?”

  “Sorry,” the tall Chinese gentleman said. “We’ve had too much experience with such things. It’s not good for a Chinese to have anything to do with white men.”

  “But I don’t think he’s dead yet,” Gabriel pointed out.

  Hardwick, who clearly wasn’t going to hang onto life much longer, groaned. Sophie, standing at Gabriel’s side, stared at the injured man, her face as impassive as that of any Chinese.

  The tall Chinese gentleman, who was dressed to the nines in a western-style evening coat and tails, smiled. “He will be soon.”

  Philosophical race, the Chinese. “I reckon.”

  “You see, if he dies after we try to help him, we will be blamed. If he lives after we try to help him, the police will arrest us for hurting him.”

  “I see.”

  All things considered, Gabriel didn’t feel much sympathy for Ivo Hardwick. He might be suffering, although he was probably unconscious, but his present misery was no greater than the suffering he’d put others through in his misspent life.

  “Um, but we can’t just leave him there, can we?”

  The well-dressed gent said, “I suppose someone’s already run to get the roundsman on the corner of Grant and Washington.”

  Gabriel nodded and turned to see where Dmitri was. He’d probably found the gun by this time.

  Things became simultaneous and confusing shortly thereafter. A policeman rushed up, took in the scene, and dispatched an eager Chinese boy to fetch an ambulance. He had to call him back not more than a second later, because Hardwick expired. Revising his request, he sent the boy for the undertaker.

  * * * *

  Sophie sipped hot, sweet tea and decided she might survive the evening. This was especially true since Gabriel hadn’t released her hand once since he’d tackled her in that awful alleyway.

  The building in which she sat was pretty seedy, but the policemen had been uniformly polite and nice to them all. They’d even driven Dmitri to the Gladiola so he could tell Aunt Juniper that everyone was all right. Sophie knew, although they hadn’t discussed it in front of the police, that Dmitri would also inform Juniper that Sophie hadn’t been able to accomplish her purpose.

  Now that it was all over, Sophie was glad of it. She had enough on her conscience without adding the death of even so slimy a specimen as Ivo Hardwick to its load.

  “I think that’s about all, Miss Madrigal.” A chubby policeman with a lovely handlebar mustache had been taking notes in the station house. He’s the one who’d given her the tea. He’d offered Gabriel whiskey. Sophie wished he’d poured some into her tea, but she didn’t ask. She felt drained; too tired to be elated or depressed or anything but tired and empty.

  And still Gabriel held her hand. Did that mean he didn’t hate her after all?

  Dmitri hadn’t found the gun. Sophie had an idea about what had happened to it—and to Gabriel’s arm—but she didn’t offer it to the San Francisco Police Force. She was sure they wouldn’t understand. Actually, she wasn’t sure she understood, but she was willing to give it a chance. Juniper would know. She’d been longing to see Juniper ever since Hardwick had breathed his last under that enormous carriage. She shuddered, and Gabriel squeezed her hand.

  “Can either of you think of anything we’ve not included in this report?” The chubby policeman smiled first at Sophie and then at Gabriel.

  She shook her head. Her hat had fallen off, and she guessed it was gone for good—maybe it and the gun had run off together. “I don’t think so.” She was so weary, it was all she could do to push the words out of her mouth.

  “No. That should do it.” Gabriel sounded more energetic than she. She wanted to fold up on his lap, throw her arms around him, and sleep for a hundred years.

  “Well, then. Since you folks are from out of town, I’ll ask you to come back here tomorrow to read and sign your statements. Will that be all right with you?”

  “Certainly,” Sophie murmured, wondering if she’d wake up tomorrow. Oh, surely she would. A body couldn’t sleep through an entire day, no matter how exhausted she was.

  “Sure,” said Gabriel. “Any particular time?”

  “No.” The policeman rose from behind his desk and held out his hand for Gabriel to shake. “I’m sorry about your man, Mr. Caine, but the Pinkertons should understand.”

  That’s another thing. Gabriel was a Pinkerton man. Sophie had gaped when he’d informed the policeman that he’d been in pursuit of Ivo Hardwick, and had been commissioned to bring him to Abilene, Texas, to stand trial for murder and injuring another man. He’d even pulled out an identification card and showed it to the policeman. Peeking over his shoulder, Sophie saw the card and recognized the always-open eye printed on it, so she guessed it was true. He hadn’t told Sophie anything at all about the Pinkertons. The beast hadn’t been honest with her.

  Integrity tapped on her mental door and begged entry, reminding her that she’d been totally wicked to Gabriel. Integrity was such a pest sometimes.

  “Right. I’ll cable them first thing tomorrow. I don’t suppose there’s a cable office open tonight.” It was the first time Sophie had ever heard Gabriel sound tentative.

  The mustachioed policeman smiled a man-to-man smile and winked at him. “You don’t want to go out of your way to do that tonight, Mr. Caine. I’m sure you want to take care of Miss Madrigal.”

  “Right.” Gabriel squeezed her hand again. “You’re right, of course.”

  Thank God. Sophie didn’t say so, because she still wasn’t sure about Gabriel. For all she knew, he was hanging on to her hand so she couldn’t get away before he could beat her.

  “I’ll see if the police car is back from taking your little man to the Gladiola.”

  Their little man. Sophie resented the policeman’s words for Dmitri’s sake, but didn’t say anything.

  “If Saunders has returned, I’ll ask him to take you home.”

  “Thanks. That’s very kind of you.” Sophie smiled at Mustache and held out her hand. Good Lord, her glove was terribly soiled. Mustache didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he gave her a very warm smile as he took her hand. He even bowed over it. Sophie thought cynically th
at he’d let his mustache go to his head. So to speak. Then she told herself to stop being mean.

  “Appreciate your help,” Gabriel said.

  “It was a terrible accident,” said Mustache, shaking his head as if he regretted it. “I’m sorry Miss Madrigal had to see it.”

  “She’s tough. She’ll get over it.”

  Sophie decided it wouldn’t be prudent to smack Gabriel on the arm. Especially since she still wasn’t absolutely sure she hadn’t shot him.

  Both Gabriel and Mustache helped her into the police carriage, which waited for them outside the police station on the outer edge of Chinatown. The San Francisco Police Department tried not to interfere much in Chinatown’s everyday business. Sophie considered such a practice intelligent and prudent, and was surprised the police had thought of it.

  As soon as the door closed and the horse had jerked the carriage into motion, Gabriel turned to her. “All right, Sophie Madrigal, what the hell happened in that alleyway?”

  Sophie, wanting to stave off the moment of truth for as long as she could, since she figured Gabriel would only disbelieve her when she told him, lifted her hand to his arm.”Did I shoot you? I hope I didn’t. I didn’t mean to.”

  “No.” He frowned down at his arm. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m not shot.”

  “Good. I—I didn’t want to shoot you.” A shiver rattled her bones her at the thought.

  “Nice of you, I’m sure,” he said dryly. “Now, tell me: what happened in that alleyway. I was diving for you and didn’t see a damned thing.”

  Sophie breathed deeply and let it out slowly. Then she shrugged. What the hell, as Gabriel himself might say. She looked him square in the eye. “It was magic.”

  He blinked at her. “Beg pardon?”

  She shrugged again. “It was magic.”

  His eyes began to thin, and she hurried to forestall an eruption of anger. “I’m serious, Gabriel. It was as if time stopped for a second when you jumped at me. I saw a huge bolt of light materialize out of nowhere. It struck your side—I guess it hit your arm—and you went down like a sack of cement. I thought at first the light had come from the gun, because I know I pulled the trigger, and I heard the sound of a gunshot.”

  “Yeah. So did I.” He’d started frowning.

  “But I guess the bullet didn’t hit you.”

  “Didn’t hit Hardwick, either, according to the coroner.”

  She shivered again. “I guess not.”

  Silence slid into the carriage along with the fog seeping in through the windows. Sophie repeated, “It was magic.”

  “Hmmm. Right.”

  “It was.” She tried to think of some way to convince him, but was unable to come up with anything brilliant. Or even dull. It had been magic, and that was that.

  His brow furrowed as if he were pondering difficult questions, he asked, “Did they find the gun?”

  “No. Dmitri didn’t find it, and I guess the police didn’t find it, either.”

  “They weren’t looking for a damned gun,” Gabriel all but snarled. “Which was lucky for you.”

  She sighed. “I suppose so.”

  “You suppose so.” He sounded disgusted. “You, my dear, have no idea how damned lucky you were tonight.”

  “I have a notion.” Whether her luck was good or bad all depended, of course, on what happened now.

  Gabriel glowered into the darkness for a minute before he turned to face her again. “You said you loved me when I was lying there in that damned alley. Was that a lie? Did you only say it because you thought you’d killed me?”

  Good Lord, did he believe that? Sophie shook her head. “No, Gabriel. I said it because it’s the truth. I love you. Dearly.”

  “Do you treat all the people you love like shit, or did you single me out for special treatment?”

  Oh, dear, he was going to be difficult. “I—”

  He held up a hand. “Wait. I forgot. You also treat your aunt like shit. I guess I’m not so special after all.”

  Sophie felt her lower lip tremble, and clamped her teeth on it. She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t cry. That would be a sly and manipulative thing to do. Sophie deplored such tactics used by females to twist the wills of men.

  “And then there’s Dmitri. You damned near got him killed in Tucson. And tonight. Shoot, Hardwick might have smashed him like a fly if he hadn’t been in such a hell of a hurry.”

  “But—”

  “I guess you treat your dog kindly. That’s something.”

  “Gabriel!”

  “And I guess you love old Tybalt. Probably because he never argues with you or tells you what a damned ass you’re being.”

  “Gabriel!” Why was he saying these horrible things to her?

  Because they were the truth, her conscience reminded her. Blast. Sometimes Sophie purely hated the truth. Nevertheless, now that she took the time to peer back over the last ten or eleven months, she could see where she’d been a trifle—oh, very well, quite—difficult.

  “Dmitri and I went to see Miss Juniper when we set out to find you, and she was feeling guilty because she’d finally lost her temper at you. Ha!”

  Sophie winced.

  “The woman’s a saint. How anybody could put up with you and your insane obsession—”

  “It wasn’t!”

  “It was, too. Your insane obsession, for so long passes my understanding.”

  “You’re being mean.” Honest, perhaps, but mean.

  “Mean, my ass. I just want you to know, Sophie Madrigal, that I’m not going to put up with any more nonsense like what you’ve put Miss Juniper and Dmitri—not to mention me—through again. Never. If you so much as look like you’re getting obsessed about something, I’m going to throw you over my knee and spank your beautiful bottom.”

  Sophie tried to read his face, but the carriage was too dark. A faint scent of jasmine, sandalwood, and orange blossoms kissed her nostrils, and she almost jumped out of her skin. Good Lord, was this a love scene they were enacting in this godforsaken rattle-trap police carriage?

  “Um, how are you going to do that?”

  “Want me to show you here and now?” He sounded ferocious.

  “No! What I meant was—well, aren’t you going back to Abalone?”

  “Where? Oh. Abilene. No. I’m going to cable Franklin and the Pinkerton’s tomorrow.”

  “But—don’t you have to go back to your job?”

  “I’m thinking of going into another line of work.”

  “Oh.”

  “And I think San Francisco’s the best place to do it.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. San Franciscans love all sorts of strange stuff. They’ll love what I have planned.”

  “Really?” Sophie’s heart had started teetering back and forth like a seesaw, and she was feeling a little sickish. The scent of orange blossoms, sandalwood, and jasmine was stronger.

  “Sure. I understand a lot of mystics and mediums are moving west. I’m sure my show will top them all.”

  “Your show?” Wonderful. Now her voice was quivering like aspic.

  “Sure.” Keeping one of her hands in his, he lifted the other, splayed his fingers out, and passed his hand in front of her as if he were displaying a banner. “I can see it now. We’ll have our own theater, and the marquee will read Madrigal. I think just the one word will be good. Dramatic. Folks like their occult spirits served up with drama, you know.”

  Sophie’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t find a word in it to save her life.

  He smiled all at once, revealing his perfect white teeth in his perfect tanned face. “So, what do you think, Sophie? Think it’ll go over big in San Francisco?”

  She had to swallow and clear her throat before she could get her tonsils and tongue to coordinate. “I—I’m not sure what you mean, Gabriel.”

  “No? I thought I was being pretty plain. I’m great at managing businesses. Been doing it all my life until I took up with the Pinkertons after my
folks died. My uncle wanted me to keep managing the preaching side of the family, but I couldn’t stand the hypocrisy. On my part, not his. He believed in what he was doing. But I figure it doesn’t matter if I believe in magic or not. Hell, you’re a spiritualist, and you don’t believe in it. Why should I?”

  Oh. Sophie understood now—and her heart sank into her sensible shoes. “I see. You and Juniper worked something out.”

  “Juniper and me? Now when in hell could we have worked anything out? I’ve been looking for you all damned day.”

  Sophie opened her mouth. Finding it empty, she closed it again.

  “By the way, that was a really dirty trick you played on me in Los Angeles, Sophie. You’re going to have to work some to make that one up to me.”

  She couldn’t take any more. With as much force as she could, she whacked his chest. “Damn you, Gabriel Caine! What are you talking about? You’re trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you?” Big fat tears started rolling down her cheeks, and she was utterly humiliated.

  “Trying to drive you crazy? I like that. You’ve already driven me nuts, damn you. If you hadn’t, would I be talking about spending the rest of my life with you?”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “God damn it, I’m going to marry you! I’m going to marry you and keep you on a damned leash. You’re too dangerous to be allowed out without a keeper, and I can’t feature anyone else being fool enough to take the job.” He reached out to grab her other hand before she could hit him again. “Can you?”

  He needn’t have grabbed her. She was too stunned to hit him again.

  “You want to marry me? Me?”

  “Well, as to wanting to marry you . . .”

  “Gabriel.”

  “Oh, all right.” He brought both of her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

  She shook her head.

  He sighed heavily. “Well, I do. I tried not to, God knows, but I can’t seem to help myself.”

  “Oh.”

  She could barely make out his eyes twinkling at her out of the dark. She licked her lips.