Parlor Games: A Novel Part 13

We turned off Powell, out of sight of the apartment window. I stopped and grabbed her arm. "I didn't update the ledger."

"Will he check?"

"He might. Unless I can distract him." How could I do that, I wondered, as we neared the neighborhood market. I turned to Sue Marie. "Can you cook?"

"One thing. Pork chops and greens."

"Then I'll tell him you insisted on cooking for us, so that he and I can plan our holiday. After you leave, I'll get him right to bed and insist he not bother with the ledger."

"We better be sharp," said Sue Marie, picking up the pace, "and not give him time to suspect anything."

I nodded. "It'll take some fancy footwork."

"Fancy footwork?" Sue Marie flapped her hands. "Leave the kitchen to me, and I'll get us out of here faster than a fox after a rabbit."

Juan lit up a cigar as he leaned back from the dinner table. "Your friend, she is a very talented cook."

A cool spring rain pattered on our windows, but the kitchen stove had blazed for nearly an hour, rendering the apartment overheated and claustrophobic. I pushed my picked-at dinner to the side. "She is a treasure, isn't she?"

Sue Marie glided in with a tray and placed it on the sideboard. "Let me clear the table."

Juan looked up at her as she reached for his plate. "Very nice, Miss Littleton. The pork was as tender as b.u.t.ter."

Sue Marie plucked our plates from the table. "The greens are a Kentucky specialty. Were they to your liking?"

"Si, very tasty."

Sue Marie disappeared into the kitchen with the tray.

"Pity it's so rainy tonight," I said. "I hope it'll clear by morning."

"How is Sue Marie getting home?"

"She can get a carriage on Powell. And we can have the rest of the evening to ourselves. Just you and me."

Sue Marie returned with three drinks on a tray. "May I join you for after-dinner drinks?"

Juan rose to pull out a chair for Sue Marie. "Please, Miss Littleton."

"This is my own creation," Sue Marie said, placing the drinks before us and taking her seat. "It's slightly bitter, but excellent for digestion."

Bitter? She wouldn't dare resort to that back-alley ploy of knockout drops, would she? And put our plan at risk?

Juan reached for his drink. "To my lovely ladies."

"Juan," I said, "did you finish unpacking?"

Juan scooped up his gla.s.s. "No, I'll finish later. To your health, my dears."

I tasted the drink. It was sweet and strong, like rum laced with sugar, but not bitter.

Juan sipped a bit and puckered. "Most unusual. Bitter under the sweet."

I reached out to restrain Juan. "I really don't care for it. I'm sure Sue Marie won't be insulted if you don't finish it."

Sue Marie shot me a shut-your-mouth look.

Juan clapped his free hand over mine, lifted the cordial gla.s.s to his lips, gulped down the rest of the drink, and exhaled. "Ahhh."

"I'll clean up and get dessert ready," said Sue Marie, leaving us at the table.

The sounds of colliding metal and china clanged from the kitchen as Sue Marie cleaned the pots, plates, and utensils she'd dirtied during her culinary escapade. I kept a close eye on Juan, trying to figure out if his drink had been fixed. The kitchen noise subsided and Sue Marie peeked out, craning her neck to see over Juan's shoulder. I truly hoped she hadn't slipped him knockout drops. I had enough to worry about: making it through the night without questions about the ledger; retrieving my suitcase; and getting us out of town before Juan visited his bank in the morning.

"Tell me, Mr. Ramon," she said, striding toward us, "have you tried apple pie? It's an American specialty, you know."

Juan, who had grown taciturn, twisted around toward her and, like a pendulum unable to stop its momentum, pitched off his chair and onto the floor.

I bolted to his side and crouched over him. "Juan, Juan."

His eyes rolled back. He lolled his head toward me and spoke with a thick tongue. "My heart ... bad. Please, a doctor."

Sue Marie looked down on him, a hand worrying her brow. "Mr. Ramon, oh, Mr. Ramon."

I shot her an accusing glance. Just as I thought-she'd plied him with knockout drops.

Juan's eyes closed and his limbs flopped at his sides, strewn at odd angles.

I bent over his face and held my hand under his nostrils. His breaths came in ragged pulls. "Juan, can you hear me?"

He budged not one bit.

I looked up at Sue Marie. "Look what you've done."

"It won't kill him. Let's get out of here."

I stood, grabbed her by the sleeve, and dragged her into the bedroom, shutting the door. "He has a weak heart. He needs a doctor."

"We can't risk it."

"Are you crazy? If he dies, we'll be charged with murder."

"He's just knocked out, you fool."

"He could be dying. We have to do something."

"All right, fine. Get your coat." Sue Marie bustled out of the room.

I ran to the closet and grabbed my coat and a broad-brimmed hat.

As I fastened my hat, Sue Marie rushed back into the bedroom, waving Juan's opened wallet. "I can't believe it. All he has is a measly hundred fifty-seven dollars."

"Never mind. Let's get him to a doctor."

"No," she said, stuffing Juan's wallet into her purse. She reached for my arm. "We have to get out of here."

I backed away from her grasp. "I'm not taking a chance on a murder charge-for you or me."

"Don't be stupid. We'll catch a train and get out of town."

"I won't do it. Not until I know he's safe."

She grabbed me by the hand. "Let's go."

I hitched my free arm around the bedpost and braced myself against her tug. "I'm not budging."

She tried to unhook my arm from the post.

I wrapped both my arms tight around the bedpost. "I don't want you charged with murder."

"You're in on it, too," she said, grabbing me around the waist and yanking me so hard my corset pinched.

"I've got the money." I released the bedpost and stood blocking her way to my suitcase.

She dropped on her stomach and lunged under the bed for my suitcase.

I dropped down on top of her and straddled her back, grabbing her legs so she couldn't kick her way free. She tried to push back from under the bed, but I kept all my weight on her.

"Let me go," she hollered.

Then I thought of her employer. Bordellos always have a doctor to call on. "Miss Winters can find a doctor. Let's get him there, and then we can leave."

"All right, all right," she said.

"Promise?"

"Yes, let me go."

"Can I trust you this time?"

"Yes, now get off me."

I stood and released her.

She wriggled out from under the bed, rose, and shot me a look of disgust. "I'll get a carriage."

It took both of us and the driver to drag Juan down the stairs and into the carriage. The driver hurried his horses through pouring rain and pulled up to a three-story cream-and-green Italianate house. Sue Marie ran in and returned with a short, burly man. He and the carriage driver hauled Juan around to the back door, and Sue Marie and I trailed along at the tail end of the sorry entourage. The two men laid Juan out on a sofa in the parlor, his hair dripping wet, face glistening with moisture, and clothes soaked.

We found ourselves in a compact room named "the Forty-Niner's Parlor," which was decorated with red wallpaper, gold pans, and a red velvet sofa and sitting chairs. I pulled the carriage driver aside and asked him to wait for Sue Marie and me by the rear door, hoping we could fetch our suitcases and leave as soon as possible. I knelt over Juan. His breathing was slow but steady.

The back door slammed. I pivoted around to check it; the carriage driver had slunk off. Sue Marie and I were stuck without a carriage-while a heavy rain poured down outside. I wondered if the man who'd helped carry Juan in was the house driver, and if he might be compelled to drive us to Juan's apartment. I looked around the room and caught the man's eye. He wiped his face dry with his sleeve, all the time glaring at Sue Marie and me as if he'd rather spit on us than say, "How do you do."

The white-haired Lillie Winters stormed into the room and closed the door. "What's the meaning of this?"

I stood and walked to Sue Marie's side, keeping my eyes downcast.

All meekness, Sue Marie said, "We were having dinner with Miss Townsend's gentleman and he pa.s.sed out. He needs a doctor."

Realizing introductions would not be forthcoming, I said, "He has a bad heart."

"And what business is it of mine?" Miss Winters's big-boned frame towered over Juan's prostrate body. She stared at Sue Marie. "Well?"

"I would have brought him to a doctor but I thought it might look bad, especially if anybody found out where I worked."

Miss Winters cast a doubting scowl at Sue Marie and turned to the man who'd helped carry Juan in. "Angelo. Go get Dr. Ford."

Angelo dashed off, and Miss Winters faced Sue Marie again. "The doctor will want to know if anything contributed to his state."

"He'd just had dinner, that's all."

Miss Winters planted a hand on her hip. "Did you give him knockout drops?"

Sue Marie clapped her fingertips to her cheek. "Why would I do that?"

Miss Winters let out a snorting humph and said, "You know very well."

Over the next hour, Sue Marie, Miss Winters, and I kept watch over Juan while a stream of perhaps a dozen girls pa.s.sed by the doorway, peering at the scene and whispering among themselves.

When the doctor arrived, he pulled a stethoscope out of his bag, leaned over Juan, and checked his chest and pulse.

Sue Marie brushed her palms together and turned to Miss Winters. "Pauline and I should really get back to Mr. Ramon's apartment."

"Oh, no, you won't," she said, glaring at Sue Marie. "You brought him here, and you'll see this through."

While I tried to cook up a reason for us to leave, heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway, approaching the parlor.

A thickset, veiny-nosed police officer elbowed his way through the girls jamming the doorway. "What's going on here?"

d.a.m.nation, I thought, the carriage driver must have squealed.

The doctor said, "This man was brought here unconscious."

Juan, who had been roused with some smelling salts, moaned with grogginess.

The police officer pulled a chair up alongside Juan. "Can you tell me what happened, sir?"

Juan shook his head. He managed only halting words. "Pa.s.sed ... out."

The officer nodded.