Chinaman's Chance

I mailed the photograph back anonymously to Sergeant Butler in care of the San Francisco Police Department. I had painted a red letter x on the images of his wife and children. The result was that Sam Butler's family left town for parts unknown. I'm not sure what else happened as a result of my post, but I'm sure it put a scare into the bastard.

"Maybe I made a mistake," I told Maggie. "Now that pig Butler is on alert that somebody has a grudge against him."

"Lots of people have grudges against lawmen," Maggie responded. "I'm sure he has no idea you were behind this. For all he knows, you're dead. I'm also sure he's nervous now and nervous people tend to make more mistakes. Butler is probably jumping at shadows now."

"You're right," I said. "I shouldn't worry."

"You know, damaging reputations and relationships can be almost as devastating to the victim as being murdered."

Maggie wasn't the type to say something for no reason. "Do you have something in mind?" Maggie did indeed have an idea and I agreed to it immediately. The three men that used me after the cops left that first night were each going to receive an anonymous letter advising them that they had possibly contracted a venereal disease during one of their last visits to Madame Bordeaux's and they should get checked by their physicians. In the meantime, they should refrain from further carnal relations with their wives and/or daughters. We knew that the men were married with families. Maggie had fancy stationery and elegant handwriting. She perfumed the envelopes and wrote Madame Bordeaux's return address on them. My friend also made it very easy for the envelopes to be unsealed. No man's wife was going to pass up the opportunity to steam open that type of letter and read the contents.

I didn't feel the same hostility toward those men as I did for the others who victimized me so perhaps damaging their marriages was appropriate punishment. I could get on with plans to murder the brothel bitch and the two cops. I had no way of finding out what effect those letters had on those marital relationships. There was, however, one side effect I did hear about. Tom reported a rumor that Madame Bordeaux suffered an immediate drop in business from her moneyed clientele. I guess word got around that Madame Bordeaux couldn't be relied on to be discreet. I couldn't have been more pleased.

"Those two landlubbers don't leave each others sights now," Tom said. "It's like they are joined at the hip." My friend was speaking of the two cops on my kill list, Sam Butler and Mike Peters.

"That's my fault," I said. It was most probably a consequence of that marked up photograph of his family I sent to Sergeant Butler. I wouldn't be able to deal with the pair one at a time now that they were on alert. Butler's house was now for sale and he was boarding in the same house as Peters. They seemed to be acting as each other's bodyguards. "I guess I should go after Madame Bordeaux now."

"She doesn't go out very much anymore," Tom said. "Also, the bitch has hired a couple of professional gunslingers as bodyguards."

"How did you find that out?"

"I, uh...rented the companionship of one of Madam Bordeaux's girls for the evening. She liked to gossip."

"Heh! I hope you added that outing to your expense report."

"I did," Tom responded. "I feel guilty about it, too."

"Why is that?"

"That girl was the most money I ever paid for a prostitute by far. She was nice, but nothing special."

"Don't worry about it," I responded. "It's a valid expense. Besides, you gathered some valuable information." The bitch must have connected the dots and figured out she was a target also. I wasn't anxious to go through a couple of professional killers to get to Madame Bordeaux. A delay in seeking vengeance might be necessary.

"The two landlubbers are still out and about. They seem to be making a point of visiting every business in the Barbary Coast and Chinatown."

"Aha!"

"Aha?"

"I think they're collecting for the police widows' and orphans' fund otherwise known as extorting the businessmen for 'so-called' contributions."

"Come to think of it, right after they left I overheard one of the saloon keepers complain that the police were getting greedy. Do you think they're gathering cash for a getaway fund?"

"I think you may be right," I said.

"Too bad we can't just take that money away from them two bilge-rats."

"It's most probably too well hidden," I responded. "I'll be satisfied if those bilge rats don't live long enough to spend a dime of that money. I think it's time I made my move. I don't want those two to get away."

"Give me a couple of more days," Tom responded. "They are not depositing that money in any bank and I would like to know where they are stashing it. I have plans for some of that loot if you do not mind sharing."

I smiled. "I don't mind at all. A couple of more days shouldn't hurt. Just be careful." We arranged for another meeting and wished each other luck.

I wasn't worried when Tom didn't show up at our agreed upon rendezvous site at the appointed time two days later. He was only a little late. An hour later, I was very worried. I didn't dare leave my hiding place for fear of missing him. It was beneath a pier behind a pile of rocks. Late at night it was totally dark. There could be a thousand valid reasons why he would be late or prevented from coming and all of them harmless, but we hadn't planned for this contingency. Someone finally did show up, but it wasn't Tom. He looked like a young boy. I wondered why a boy his age would be out this late. Damn it! He knew the password I used with Tom. He whistled the Popeye the Sailor Man cartoon theme music.

"What is Popeye's favorite snack?" I called without showing myself. If he named anything but spinach I'd know Tom hadn't sent him. Was my friend in trouble?

"Uh, spinach? Are you Olive Oyl?" Shit! Tom must have sent him.

"I'm Olive Oyl. Where's Popeye?" I urged.

"The police got him," he said. "I think they beat him to death." My heart broke. Another person I cared about was gone from my life and I was responsible for sending him on this mission. Another death on my conscience. Another reason to seek vengeance.

The boy's name was Bobby and he was ten years old. Bobby ran occasional errands for Tom and my friend had recently hired the boy at a rate of ten cents a day to hang around Sam Butler's old neighborhood and listen out for gossip. There was a two-bit bonus for any useful information. Bobby had returned from his assignment to report to his employer just in time to see one of the policemen crack open Tom's skull with a billy club. From the boy's description of the cop, the killer was Mike Peters.

"They had somebody take the body away," Bobby said. "I heard one of the lawmen say Tom was already like that when they found him."

"Do you know for sure that Tom is dead? Where did they take him? Do you think you were spotted?" I now felt responsible for the safety of this child. He shook his head.

"I don't know for sure, but I can find out. Anyway, nobody notices little kids. I was even able to follow them to their hideout without them noticing. They're there now. That's why I was late."

Bobby explained that Tom had shared the necessary contact information with him in case anything happened to Tom. I asked Bobby where the two cops were now, but he said he would have to show me because I would never find it by myself. I thought that was bullshit, but I couldn't convince him to let me have the address even after I tried to bribe him with a double eagle. I finally gave up.

"Let's go then," I said. I was dressed as a coolie again which wasn't much of a disguise, but I was armed to the teeth. Bobby told me he lived with his mother and sister. Lately, he had been living on the streets and fending for himself because there often wasn't enough to eat at home. He also told me what he had learned from Sam Butler's former neighbors.

"Slip this inside your pocket," I said and handed him the double eagle.

"Do you have something smaller?" Bobby responded. "My mother will think I robbed a bank and people will try to take it away from me the minute I try to use it."

"You're pretty smart for a ten-year-old. I'll have to get you the small change later."

"Thanks. Uh, are you going to kill those two lawmen?"

"Yes," I said simply.

"Good. I want to see those two bilge-rats dead. Tom was my friend."

"Please don't talk like he's dead. He might still be alive. Please find out. I'll pay for whatever medical care he needs."

We finally came to a narrow alley off Pacific Avenue in the heart of the Barbary Coast. Bobby pointed at a single window on the top floor of a two-story building. There was an outside staircase leading up to the second floor.

"They're still up there," Bobby said. "You can shoot them when they come out."

"How do you know they're still there?"

"I set up a trap on the stairs. One of them would have tripped and broke his neck maybe."

"I like your initiative," I responded. Bobby had set up a trip wire about halfway up the stairs. However I did point out that starting a gunfight in the open would only draw attention I didn't want. The obvious thing for me to do would be to climb to the roof of the adjacent building and ambush the two bad cops when they left that room they were in. I wondered if that was where they were stashing the money extorted from the area businessmen. The money would stay hidden forever if I couldn't question them before their executions. Torture wouldn't be out of order. I made a few mental notes of what I saw and decided what I was going to do.

I climbed up on the roof of a nearby building, not more than ten feet from the door the two cops were behind. I had a clear shot. I had my escape route worked out. Of course I'd have to make sure they came out at the same time. That's why Bobby was going to create a diversion to draw them out. His job was to throw a rock through the window and then run away like crazy. I could either shoot the bastards outright or get creative, depending on the outcome of our little diversion, always assuming Murphy's Law was in full effect.

I signaled to Bobby and ducked down. I heard the sound of breaking glass and a door opening. I chanced a peek over the ledge and saw a gun barrel sticking out. That wasn't going to help me. I had to be patient. Finally I saw a head emerge from the doorway: Mike Peters. I silently cheered Bobby. I saw other movement at the window, but it was too dark to identify anyone. I assumed it was Sam Butler. Peters crept down the stairs keeping his eyes on the mouth of the alleyway. I heard a cry of alarm and a big thump followed by nonstop cursing. Mike Peters discovered the tripwire a bit too late. Unfortunately, it wasn't fatal. The commotion drew Sam Butler out, but Mike Peters had the presence of mind to warn his partner about the tripwire. I had both of my targets in my sights now. Do I do the deed or wait? I decided to wait.

I watched as Sergeant Butler helped his partner back up the stairs. They were through the door when I made my move. I jumped onto the landing right behind them and cocked my Peacemaker. "Freeze, motherfuckers!" I ordered. The pair were so startled that they really did freeze for an instant. Mike Peters pushed away from Sam Butler and went for his gun. I shot him in the belly. A gunshot or two in this area isn't even noticed unless somebody is lying in the street. I closed the door to make sure.

"The bitch shot me!" the man screamed in pain, music to my ears. Butler was the smarter of the two. He already had his hands up.

"You gut-shot him," Butler said looking down at his partner.

"So, what? It couldn't have happened to a more deserving bastard except maybe you."

"He won't stop screaming until his last breath. I get the feeling you want to talk. Why don't you put poor Michael out of his misery so we don't have to shout over his screams?"

The man did have a point even though I would have liked Officer Peters to suffer a lot more. I pulled my derringer and fired a round into his chest. The screaming ceased. The man's bowels voided, creating an awful stench.

"Satisfied?" I asked.

"Not really, but you have a gun pointed at me."

"That's right," I responded. "Well, to business." After he disarmed, I pointed at a safe I saw in a corner of the room. "I would appreciate it if you opened up that safe so I can take a look inside."

"Why should I? You're going to kill me anyway so why reward you?" I shrugged my shoulders. I guess I would have reacted the same way.

"I suppose I could make a deal with you." The man laughed.

"Let me guess what kind of deal you are going to offer me. You'll let me go if I open the safe? I'm not going to fall for that one."

"That's the last thing I'd offer you," I responded. "As far as I'm concerned, you're a dead man whether or not you open that safe. I was thinking along the lines of leaving your wife and children alone."

"It just so happens my wife and children no longer reside in the city and I am not about to tell you where they are now." Sam Butler sounded grim now. I had touched on a sensitive subject; no surprise there.

"That was my fault, I suppose." I giggled just hoping to get his goat. "I shouldn't have stolen that picture off your side table and sent it back to you marked up."

"That was you?" Sam Butler normally had a ruddy complexion, but he was now deathly pale in comparison.

"That was me," I said. "It was also me that caused George's death although it was his own fault falling off that scaffold. The gun I'm holding belonged to him. That money he was collecting for the police widows' and orphans' fund has come in handy, by the way. I also killed Abe Slocum and Gus Brandt. As soon as I kill you I'm going after Sally Collins."

"Sally Collins?"

You might know her better as Madame Bordeaux. Louie Fung told me her real name right before I killed him. I can only claim assists for killing two of his henchmen, but who's counting?"

"You'll never get away with it." I almost burst out laughing. God! How original!

"As long as the brothel bitch gets it, I don't much care what happens to me after that. Now, do you open the safe or do I go after your family? Maybe I'll kidnap and sell all three to a brothel. Your wife and daughter are very pretty. So is your son, as a matter of fact. Did you know there are men who like to bugger little boys?"

"They're safe far away from here and I'm not telling you where."

"Santa Rosa isn't so far." The man literally staggered. "Surprised? Apparently your daughter wrote a note to a little friend inviting her to visit them in Santa Rosa. Well, the little friend's mother read the note and after that it was general neighborhood gossip."

"How do I know you'll keep your promise?"

"You don't." I was really enjoying goading the man and I knew he was liable to do something desperate. Still, I squeaked in fear and surprise when Butler made a rush for me. The only thing that saved me was that I had my pistol cocked. The gun discharged as he tackled me and shoved me against the wall. I was stunned and in pain. The man was lying half on top of me, trying to throttle me even with a bullet hole in his body. I was able to pull away from his hands and regain my senses. Sam lay on his side, blood seeping steadily from his wound.

"So, the money was more important to you than your family," I said.

"The combination is in my right boot," Sam whispered. "Don't touch them for the love of God. Please!"

I thought of all kinds of cruel responses to tell the man in his last moments of life. I shook my head as if to clear it. That wasn't me.

"They were always safe from me," I said. "I don't make war on innocents."

Butler nodded and smiled. His last breath left him and there was silence except for my own breathing. I didn't get away unscathed. I twisted my back during the brief struggle with the crooked cop and I was in pain. My revenge was almost complete, though. Now I just had to hunt down and kill Madame Bordeaux. I looted the bodies and found the safe combination. The safe was loaded with bags of gold coins, but I wasn't in any condition to carry away even a single bag. I would have to return for the loot if that was possible. Did anyone else know about this? I locked the door behind me with a key I found on the dead police sergeant. There wasn't any way I could dispose of the bodies. They would have to remain where they lay until I could clean out the safe. Hopefully, the stench of decaying bodies wouldn't attract attention for a couple of days. I spotted Bobby peeking from around the corner as I hobbled down the stairs and waved to him. He hurried over.

"Are you all right?" I nodded.

"I'll live, but I'm a bit sore."

"Are they dead?"

"They're dead all right." I told him what happened and what I still needed to do, but I needed a day or two to recover.

"I know people who can take care of the bodies so they'll never be found," Bobby said. "They'll do it for a couple of dollars each...if you trust me."

"I trust you, but I would be worried about your safety. People will kill to get the money that's in that safe and I already have Tom on my conscience. I don't want anything to happen to you, too."

"Don't worry. I'll move the money before I even talk to those men. The only thing they'll see is an empty safe with the door wide open." Don't worry he says. That made me worry all the more. It wasn't about the money. The money wasn't that important to me. Fuck it! I handed Bobby the key to the office and the safe combination along with the money I looted from the bodies. If I never saw Bobby again, I hoped it was because he was enjoying being the richest ten-year-old in San Francisco and not lying dead in some back alley.

I still had to get back to Maggie's. She was probably worried sick about me. Nothing had been planned for tonight save for the scheduled meeting with Tom. I wished I had something for the pain. It was going to be a long and slow walk home. I arranged a meeting with Bobby for two days later, reminded him to dismantle the tripwire and left him to his tasks which included getting news about Tom Logan.

I had barely walked two blocks when two pairs of hands grabbed my arms and found myself propelled forward between two Chinese men. "We have been looking for you," one of them said in English. I tried wrenching my arm free so I could draw my gun, but they were too strong. I was helpless unless I could break their hold and draw my gun. Trying to scream would only get me gagged. Darn it! Why did everything have to happen to me? A man in the shadows stepped in front of us and blocked the way.

"What are you Chinese doing in this neighborhood?" he demanded.

"This Chinese girl is a runaway and we are merely returning her to her master," said the spokesman. "We are leaving now."

"Then be off with you," the shadowy man replied. Shit! I couldn't see his face, but I knew that voice.

"No man is my master and I'm as Irish as you, Brian O'Hara," I yelled. "Help me!"

"Curly?" The huge man didn't wait for a reply. He roared in anger and grabbed the men, one in each hand. I heard a loud clonk as two skulls made contact and both men slumped to the ground. My captors might have had a chance of escaping or defending themselves except they were unwilling to let go of me. Well, tough shit for them.

"I might have hit them too hard," Brian muttered as he dragged the bodies further into the darkness. I sure hoped so, I thought as I followed him.

"Thank you, my hero."

"You're welcome. Say, did that Chinaman say you're a lass?"

"I confess. I'm a lass, not a lad." I bent down and felt for pulses. The two men were still breathing. Not for long. I drew my knife and slit their throats, unnoticed by my rescuer. Two fewer thugs looking for me. I was becoming quite the killer. The body count was climbing.