Chapter 9

Jarrod wandered out into San Francisco feeling confused, and even a bit lost. Finding out about Alana's brother had thrown him, and he really didn't know why. It wasn't just because she had lied about him, saying he died long ago when he was quite alive. It certainly wasn't that he had ever heard of him before. Since he lived near the unwed mother's home Jarrod supported, maybe he had seen him before or even heard the name but didn't remember it? He wasn't sure, but he also wasn't surprised when he realized, after wandering and not paying attention to where he was wandering, that he was near the unwed mother's home he supported.

Since he was there, he went in. Sister Margaret, the nun who oversaw the home, was sitting behind the desk in the small room just inside the door. She looked up, saw Jarrod, and beamed. "Mr. Barkley!"

Jarrod smiled as she got up and came toward him. "Hello, Sister," he said.

"What brings you by today?"

"Oh, I was just out walking and found my way over here," Jarrod said. "How is everything?"

"Everything is fine, here and at the hospital," Sister Margaret said. "We don't even have any of our mother's or babies over there at the moment, but we've taken in a couple of children from the neighborhood."

"Nothing too serious, I hope," Jarrod said.

"Pneumonia, but the children are recovering. We got lucky. Did you want to look around?"

"No, no," Jarrod said. "I'm not checking on anything. I just wanted to say hello since I was in the neighborhood." And then, because he knew Sister Margaret was very familiar with this neighborhood through the people she and the other nuns served, he decided to ask. "Sister, I would like to ask you something. May we have a seat in your office?"

"Of course."

They went inside, and Sister Margaret closed the door behind them. "I should explain a little bit first, but these are things I'm asking you keep completely confidential," Jarrod said and sat down beside her after Sister Margaret took a seat on the settee in her office.

Sister Margaret nodded.

It took Jarrod a moment to sort out what he was going to say. He wouldn't disclose anyone else's confidential matters, only his own. But how to phrase it to a nun? He suddenly wished Sister Margaret were a priest – it would be easier to say some of these things to another man – but he had known her for a long time and he knew he could trust her completely. Even so –

"There's a young woman I've come to know – not a client, it's personal. Her name is Alana Roman, that's a married name. Martin is her maiden name and she's supposed to have a brother, Alistaire Martin, who lives a couple blocks away from here. Have you heard of either one of them?"

"I've heard of Mrs. Roman," Sister Margaret said, "but I don't know her. Isn't she married to that shipping magnet? And I believe I read in the newspaper they're divorcing."

Jarrod smiled a little. "Somehow I never pictured you reading the society pages."

"I read everything," Sister Margaret admitted.

"How about Alistaire Martin?"

Sister Margaret grew a little somber. "I've heard of him but only by reputation."

Jarrod read her expression. "I take it it's not a good reputation."

"He's supposed to be a gambler, and somewhat dissolute," Sister Margaret said.

Jarrod understood what she meant. "Have you ever seen him?"

"Not that I know of. He's not a churchgoer."

Jarrod decided to say a little more. "I'm concerned he might be getting money from his sister, maybe against her will."

"Maybe?"

"I don't know what the situation is. Do you know of anyone I might talk to more about it? Anyone in the neighborhood?"

"A particular person, no, but there is a saloon two blocks south and two blocks east, called Riley's," Sister Margaret said. "I understand a lot of gambling and – other behavior – goes on there. And I know you're familiar with such places, given some of the clients I know you've had."

Jarrod chuckled a little and decided to keep his own gambling and dissolution episodes to himself – though he wouldn't have been surprised if Sister Margaret didn't know about them or suspect them. "Sister, if you happen to hear anything in particular about this Alistaire Martin, I'd appreciate it. In the meantime – it's getting late, and I hope you won't hold it against me if I feel the need to go have a drink at Riley's."

Sister Margaret smiled. "Just try not to be too dissolute."

Jarrod left her with a smile and a warm press of her hand. When he got outside, he noticed it was already later afternoon – a good time to hit Riley's. For safety's sake, he'd assume somebody in there probably knew him – maybe even an old client or two – but he decided he would not out and out ask about Alistaire Martin or even say the name.

But the moment he went into Riley's, he got a surprise. Phil Davis was in there, at the bar. At first Jarrod didn't know how to react, but when Davis made eye contact, then turned away, Jarrod got the message. Davis was working on getting information and he didn't want Jarrod to show he knew him or what he was doing.

Jarrod skipped the bar and found a table where poker was going on and there was an empty spot. He asked to join, and wasn't really surprised when the dealer said, "Sure, Mr. Barkley. Have a seat."

Jarrod looked closely at the man, but he wasn't familiar. "Do you know me?" he asked.

"Know of you," the man said. "I saw you in court not a month ago. I was a witness in another case – not your client's."

"How did I do?" Jarrod asked.

"Got him off with a light fine," the man said. "I'm Joe Hammer. What brings you to this dive?" Hammer shuffled the cards.

"Visiting a friend in the area," Jarrod said. "It was getting late and I was getting thirsty, and when I saw you had an empty spot, I got a little itch to play some cards."

Hammer started to deal. Jarrod looked around at three other men at the table, but none of them was looking up at him or speaking to him. He didn't recognize any of them. It took him a moment realize he was actually looking for someone who might look like Alana – dark eyes, dark hair – but none of these men at the table looked like that.

Jarrod played about an hour's worth of cards and drank a couple shots of whiskey. He didn't see anyone he thought could be Alistaire Martin and did not hear the name. It was good and dark outside when he decided to give up and go have some dinner at his club, and he left the game with fifty more dollars than he came in with.

He noticed Phil Davis was gone. Jarrod resolved to talk to him in the morning, before he saw Alana, and he left Riley's and headed down the street toward his club. He was a bit surprised when he saw about fifty feet ahead, under a streetlight, Phil Davis was standing, smoking a cigar.

Jarrod decided to take a chance. He took a cigar out of his pocket, stopped beside Davis and asked fairly loudly, "Do you have a light, friend?"

Davis played along, lit Jarrod's cigar for him, and asked quietly, "Did you find out anything at Riley's?"

"No," Jarrod said, just as quietly, as he puffed to get the cigar going. "You?"

"Maybe," Davis said. "Come see me first thing in the morning."

"Thanks," Jarrod said, more loudly, and kept walking in the direction he'd been going.

Maybe. That kept Jarrod's curiosity up. Tomorrow morning couldn't come too soon, as far as he was concerned.