Hawaiian Crosswinds Page 27

  Dr. Jerome was looking more confident. He nodded. “I agree with you, Rafe. This can be handled much more wisely. I’m afraid I panicked.”

  “Fear can blind us and cloud our reasoning. In the shadows we may see no way out of a dilemma. The Lord has promised His own, however, that we’re never alone. He is our Light and our defense.”

  Dr. Jerome smiled and thoughtfully studied him. “Ambrose has been a good mentor for you. I don’t know why I’m surprised by your spiritual insight, but I’m afraid I’ve misjudged you. My fault, I know. And even though I’m the one who married Rebecca, I was always a little jealous and insecure around your father, Matt.”

  “You can throw away any residue of that now, sir. He’s gone.”

  Jerome dropped his head. “Yes … I know his death was a great burden to you. You can be comforted knowing he’s in the presence of Christ.” He shook his head again. “Townsend has much to answer for.”

  “That leaves us with the Hunnewell manifesto to take care of.” Rafe looked at him, hoping his instincts were right.

  Dr. Jerome sat still a moment, then he stood to his feet and walked over to his jacket that hung on a peg. He took a key out of a deep pocket, returned to his desk, and unlocked a top drawer. A moment later he pull out a rather thick folder. He looked at it and handed it across the desk to Rafe.

  “Now you can board that steamer, and Mr. Hunnewell can bring his manifesto to Secretary of State Blaine and President Harrison.”

  Rafe took the folder, gave it a brief glance through, and was very much relieved.

  “Thank you.” What explanation could Jerome give to not offend the queen? “What about the queen?” Rafe asked. “Is she expecting to receive this tomorrow?”

  Jerome shook his head. “I was under the impression it was to be a surprise. This was planned by the gambling and opium cartels to gain the passage of certain bills in the Legislature.”

  “They’re going to be disappointed.”

  Dr. Jerome smiled wearily and placed a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “Yes.” He sobered and looked directly at Rafe. “Thank God you came, Rafe. I’m going to be a proud man to have such a son-in-law. Can you forgive a temperamental and sometimes foolish old man for taking too long to see how blessed Eden will be to have you?”

  Rafe hadn’t expected the compliment, but he was relieved that a situation which could have torn them asunder had sealed their upcoming family relationship.

  “Thank you, sir. I’m confident the blessing will be mutual. Would this be a good time to speak with Hartley?”

  Jerome gave a nod. “Better not go to the back room. I’ll have him come here. Dr. DuPont is examining the most recent detainees.”

  Dr. Jerome was going through the door when Rafe asked, “Is Dr. Bolton well?”

  Jerome stopped abruptly. He turned his head, a sorrowful look on his face. He studied Rafe a moment. “You noticed?” he asked in a low voice, troubled.

  Rafe gave a brief ascent. “It shows in his walk.”

  Jerome groaned. “Perhaps the worst tragedy I’ve come up against since Rebecca. He will soon be going to Molokai. He intends to partner with me at the clinic, so at least some good has come from his tragedy.” He drew in a breath. “Lana—knows. She’s going through with the marriage next week. She’ll come as a nurse to the clinic, and of course, she’ll be his kokua.”

  Rafe kept silent a moment. “Does Eden know?”

  He shook his head. “None of us could bring ourselves to tell her yet.”

  Perhaps that’s why Dr. Bolton hadn’t wanted him to notice, Rafe thought. He may have thought I’d mention it to Eden. Her aunt, Lana, was the likely one to break the news to her.

  While Dr. Jerome went after Hartley, Rafe pondered. It would be easy to call for the marshal to haul Hartley downtown, but that might silence him completely through fear, besides involving Dr. Jerome and alerting the newspapers. The marshal was still overwhelmed with the Sen Fong murder, having accomplished, as far as Rafe could tell, little toward locating the opium cartel’s assassin. The action to take depended on whether Chen’s death was an accident. A blunder by his own hand? A mistaken dosage of his own Eastern medicines? Or did Chen die by the hand of a young man who felt no qualm in rendering vengeance on his employer for dismissing him in Calcutta? If that were the case, Hartley had a mental problem, as well as a sin problem.

  Rafe was standing by the window when footsteps coming from the back room alerted him.

  A moment later Herald Hartley entered, followed by Dr. Jerome, who shut the door for privacy. Jerome looked stern. Hartley, seeing Rafe, stopped abruptly, his face written with shock. Evidently Dr. Jerome hadn’t told him Rafe waited in the office.

  Hartley’s auburn hair was parted straight down the middle. His lean tanned face turned stiff and uncooperative. His amber eyes surveyed Rafe, and he stiffened visibly.

  “What is this? What do you want? I’ve an important job to attend right now,” he said impatiently.

  “Herald,” Dr. Jerome said firmly, “you’ll need to answer some questions.”

  So Hartley was opting for the aggressive approach. Well, he could do the same.

  Hartley threw back his head. “Why, sir? He’s not the marshal!”

  “No,” Rafe stated, “but I can send for him quickly enough if you’d prefer. You’ll still have to answer some questions, though probably many more, and anything you tell him will be written down and used against you. What you confess here and now before Dr. Jerome may not go past this room. Which do you prefer?”

  “Cooperate, Herald,” Jerome urged, again with a firm tone to warn him he’d receive no cover from him.

  Hartley drew a long white cloth from his pocket and wiped his face. “I’ve done nothing evil,” he breathed in a low, nervous voice. “Nothing evil.”

  “The law may have to decide that, not me, Hartley. All I want is the truth. So does Dr. Jerome.”

  “I didn’t kill him, I had nothing to do with his death.”

  “Then you’d better talk. If you don’t, you’re not going to waste our time. I’ll bring you to the marshal myself.”

  Hartley stared at Rafe, his mouth growing tight and his breathing quickened.

  “I didn’t kill Chen,” he repeated. “He—he was already dead when I got in the house by the back way. His flesh was still warm. He couldn’t have been dead over twenty minutes.” His eyes darted from Rafe to Jerome, then back again. “I know who did it. I saw him. I’ve been afraid to talk—I’d be next.”

  Rafe gauged his sincerity. He looked frightened all right, probably from the reality of his situation.

  Dr. Jerome came around from his desk and peered at him anxiously. “Good grief, my boy! If Dr. Chen was murdered, then out with it! It’s your responsibility to tell the truth.”

  “It wouldn’t have done either of us any good, Dr. Jerome. The San Francisco police appear to avoid Chinatown and all its crime. They keep having the tong wars, and who stops them? I was afraid; I’ll admit, I was a coward.”

  Jerome reached a hand and put it on his shoulder. “I know nothing of your cowardice, Herald, but I want to know who killed my friend and colleague.”

  Rafe narrowed his gaze thoughtfully and looked at Jerome. “Sir, the mention of Chinatown and the tong wars points to the cartel. I’ve learned that the opium kingpin was Dr. Chen’s cousin.”

  Jerome was startled. “So that could explain the murder of Sen. I thought it had to do with his becoming a Christian and not wanting to distribute the opium.”

  “He must have also held knowledge about the kingpin that made it too dangerous for Sen Fong to remain on the scene.”

  Hartley was wiping his face again. He licked his lips.

  “I saw Sen Fong out front of the Chinatown house. The kingpin was coming out the front door, and his face said it all. That’s why I ducked behind the hedge. If he’d seen me I wouldn’t be here now, I’m sure of that. You’ve got to believe me.”

  “What happened next?” Rafe as
ked.

  “I went around to the back, climbed up to a bathroom window and got in that way.”

  “What makes you so certain the Oriental you saw leaving was the kingpin?” Rafe asked.

  “I don’t know his name. Sen Fong worked for him. He was the same one who threatened Dr. Jerome about Chen’s death and his medical journal.”

  As Hartley said journal, his eyes faltered and his tanned face turned a ruddy color. This convinced Rafe he was onto the truth. If Hartley could feel guilty over stealing the journal but not over murdering a man, he should go onstage.

  “So you know about the extortion the kingpin threatened Dr. Jerome with?”

  He dropped his head. “Yes, I heard him.”

  Dr. Jerome showed his surprise. “You were there? I didn’t see you.”

  “I was keeping out of sight in the trees that grow alongside the high wall around Mr. Hunnewell’s property.”

  “But how did you know I would meet with him? Sen came for me at Kalihi and you were not at the hospital that night. You asked if you could have the evening off.”

  Herald nodded, still looking down at the floor. “I wanted that evening off because I had seen the opium kingpin in Pan Alley the day before. I was scared out of my wits that he’d come to Honolulu looking for me. That somehow he’d discovered I saw him in San Francisco.”

  “He must have found out,” Rafe said. “That’s the only reason he’d have to threaten Dr. Jerome.”

  Herald nodded miserably. “I don’t know how he found out, unless Dr. Chen’s Chinese cook happened to see me. I thought— maybe—someone might have seen me climb in the bathroom window, but when I looked back, I didn’t see anyone in the backyard, but there was a noise in the bushes by the hen house. The chickens, they’d been disturbed.”

  “All right, you say Pan Alley. Go on.”

  “I went there to see if I could find the kingpin’s den, which one it was. I had an idea to visit each one and, well, just have a quick look inside to see if he was there.”

  Rafe folded his arms and tilted his head with a wry smile. “Come, Hartley, the truth.”

  He blotted his face and swallowed. “Well, I also owed a gambling bill … I went there to pay it off—that is, to ask for more time—and fortune worked against me! The very den I owed money to was the kingpin’s!” Hartley covered his eyes with a shaking hand, and his shoulders shook.

  Rafe knew a surge of compassion. Hartley had become enslaved by Satan’s chains. Gambling was ruining his life, and Rafe also suspected liquor. Hartley was ashamed before Dr. Jerome, who had claimed to lead Hartley to repentance and faith in Christ back in Calcutta.

  Dr. Jerome sank in the chair behind his desk, his chin in his hands. He remained astutely silent.

  Rafe drew in a breath. “We now know why you went to Pan Alley, so what happened next?”

  “I caught one look at him and fled for my life. I got back to Kalihi just as Dr. Jerome and Sen Fong were coming down the steps.”

  Rafe remembered how Zachary had come to his hotel room and insisted that he’d followed Silas to the gambling dens and then back to Kalihi. It was clear now that it hadn’t been Silas, but Hartley, that Zachary had followed.

  Hartley was saying, “I wondered where Sen was taking Dr. Jerome and followed. I overheard the kingpin’s conversation to Dr. Jerome—all about the manifesto, the opium, that lottery bills needed passage in the Legislature. I heard the kingpin threaten Dr. Jerome. What he told him wasn’t true—not about Dr. Chen’s death—but the journal part was true. I did take it. I knew I was in trouble. But the kingpin was lying too. He was the last one to talk to Dr. Chen alive, not me.”

  Rafe kept pushing. “So you entered through a back bedroom window. Then what?”

  “I knew something was wrong. It was too quiet. I tiptoed into his study and there he was draped over his desk, his herbicides spread all over his desk and on the floor. I took his pulse but he was dead. I was afraid and wanted to get out of there fast but not without the journal. I saw it behind him in a bookshelf. I put it under my coat and left through a door into a garden. It was foggy by then and I’m sure no one saw me, not even the cook. I think he, too, was afraid and stayed by the hen coop. He must have notified the San Francisco police after he entered the house and found Dr. Chen.”

  “Where did you go with the journal?”

  “My room, at the hotel on the wharf.”

  Rafe didn’t want a long lapse of time for Hartley to twist the facts to make himself look better to Dr. Jerome. He asked abruptly: “Why, on the day you came to Kea Lani with the journal, did you pretend you’d developed a friendly relationship with Dr. Chen?”

  “Because, as I confessed, I was afraid. I—I was trying to make an alibi. I believed the San Francisco police would eventually come to the conclusion he’d been murdered. Where did that leave me? Especially after taking the journal.”

  “You were a fool to take it, Herald,” Dr. Jerome said. “Especially after what happened!”

  “I—I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Why didn’t you turn to Christ for guidance and strength?”

  Herald dropped his head again. “I—I’m not sure I’m a Christian. I needed your help and so … well, I may have said some things to—to make you pleased with me. …”

  Dr. Jerome turned away and shook his head. He, too, drew out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes.

  He’s taking the loss of Herald Hartley hard, Rafe thought.

  “You had a strong disagreement with Dr. Chen in Calcutta. Dr. Jerome is witness to that. Chen dismissed you and you held it against him. Why would you seek him out at all?”

  “For my career. I wanted to come to Honolulu and work again with Dr. Jerome. He’d treated me more than fairly in Calcutta. I was going to apologize to Dr. Chen for what I’d done in offending him in India.”

  Dr. Jerome sighed deeply.

  “And,” Hartley said, “ask him if he’d consider writing a letter of recommendation to Dr. Bolton at Kalihi Hospital. I thought they’d never hire me if anything detrimental was ever released by Dr. Chen. I told myself I’d never be accepted into that inner medical circle unless Dr. Chen decided to forgive and forget and give me another opportunity. So I intended to see him first, then catch a steamer to Honolulu with the letter.”

  “So in reality, Hartley, you had a strong motive to see Dr. Chen dead. You could reap vengeance on a man that destroyed your career, as you saw it, and get a position with Dr. Jerome at Kalihi, but only if he were silent and out of the way.”

  “No!”

  “The journal you could present to Dr. Jerome as a peace offering, making him think Dr. Chen had willed it to him.”

  “Yes, that part’s true, but I didn’t murder Dr. Chen. The opium kingpin did. Just as he had murdered Sen Fong. I’ve no way to prove I didn’t kill Chen. Or that the kingpin did, for that matter. Especially after taking the journal—I know it looks bad. It was a foolish move on my part.”

  Hartley looked ill and miserable. Rafe told himself he didn’t need to believe or disbelieve him, that would be left for others, but his own conclusion rendered Hartley not guilty of the murder of Dr. Chen.

  Rafe looked over at Dr. Jerome. What do you want to do? Rafe seemed to say. Jerome again walked around his desk and came up to Herald.

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Herald. The time has come. Your answer will decide your future where my work is concerned. In fact, regardless of your answer I’ve decided I shall not want you at Molokai with Eden and me.”

  Herald’s head fell again. His hand came up to his eyes. His shoulders trembled. It was one of the worst sights Rafe had confronted in a long while. He turned away and went over to the window. The room was hot and stuffy and he opened the window, but little refreshment blew in.

  “What was it you did to so offend Dr. Chen that he dismissed you from his research clinic in Calcutta? You told me it was gambling and drink. I know that you’re still trapped in those vices. Bu
t there was something more, Herald. Something that upset Dr. Chen in the extreme.”

  “It was the liquor, and gambling. My life spiraled down to the gutter after he fired me. My career, my future, everything was in rubble. Yes, I mulled it over in my mind day after day until I grew bitter. I did end up, literally, in the gutters of India. You know that. It was you who found me; who thought I was worth giving another chance to, and took me in. I’ve said before, I owe you everything.”

  Jerome shook his head, sadly. “It is not I who you owe your life too, Herald, but the One who gave His precious life to redeem you from sin and slavery to the Evil One.”

  Hartley nodded. “I know, I know … but I didn’t commit murder, I didn’t.”

  “I’m inclined to believe you, but whether we do or not doesn’t change matters as far as the law is concerned. My main interest now is in my poor Rebecca, and the many suffering lepers on Kalaupapa, just as for Rafe it’s Eden. I cannot trust you again, Herald. I’m sorry, but once trust is broken it’s very difficult to restore. No matter your motive, you deceived me about the journal. You nearly caused such a scandal that it would have prevented the queen from granting permission for the clinic!”

  Hartley remained silent.

  “And there must have been something more to the reason why Dr. Chen dismissed you,” Dr. Jerome stated pointedly.

  Hartley sighed tiredly. He looked at the floor, at Dr. Jerome, at Rafe, and then back to the floor. “Yes. I followed in the footsteps of the German researcher who used a man as a research tool. I practiced my ideas for a cure on a certain young leper. Unfortunately, something went wrong and the boy died of a great fever. Chen insisted the fever was caused by the herbs I’d used. He was very angry with me. He told me to pack my things and get out. It wasn’t fair! The boy was only a leper, the lowest of the low in the caste system. An untouchable from the village dump.”

  Dr. Jerome slowly drew back from the chair where Hartley sat staring up, indignant. He turned away.

  Rafe watched Hartley for a long minute in silence. Maybe he hadn’t murdered Chen, but a man’s character was surely revealed in how he judged human life.