~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Chapter 8 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Yahiko blinked and poked the passed-out Meg in the cheek with his finger. "D'ya think she's dead?"
"That really isn't a nice thing to say, Yahiko, now is it?" Kaoru pushed her brother out of the way and knelt down on the porch to press a wet rag to Meg's head.
"Poor girl's in shock," Mrs. Giovanni clicked her tongue noisily as she knelt down on the other side of Meg. "A terrible business. What a terrible business. Do you think I should go fetch Dr. Genselli, Sano?"
"Nah." Sano, who had resumed leaning against one of the porch posts, flipped his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "She ain't got yellow fever or nothing, Ma. She just fainted."
"Just like a delicate lady in one of those penny dreadfuls," Mrs. Giovanni replied, putting her fingers against Meg's cheek. "Just like that."
"Geez, you're old, Ma. No one reads those no more."
"Sanoretti Giovanni! Don't you speak to your mother in that tone..."
Kenshin, who this whole time had been alternating between staring at a note he couldn't read, and the box containing the dueling pistol, finally said, "Carnegie. Why would they call her 'Meg Carnegie', Miss Kaoru?"
Kaoru shook her head, indicating that she did not know, as she picked up Meg's wrist and checked for a pulse. Seeming satisfied after a few moments, Kaoru looked up at Kenshin, "She's always been Meg Takani, as long as I've known her."
Meg turned her head to the side a bit, her brows knit in mild discomfort as her lips trembled.
"Oh, I think she's coming around. Meg? Meg? Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes," Meg replied sternly, as if put out by the whole fainting incident. Nonetheless, her fingers curled around Kaoru's, seeking out support. For a moment, she hid her face in the curve of Kaoru's bent leg. "Oh, mother. How has it come to this?"
"Meg?" Kaoru blinked, not used to her friend indulging in these sorts of shows of emotion. She slipped her fingers into the other lady's hair and stroked it gently, "Meg, what is it? What's this all about?"
"There's no reason to make a fuss," Meg replied, allowing Kaoru to help her sit up. They waited while Yahiko went inside to fetch some water. Mrs. Giovanni, on the other hand, took a church program out of her handbag and fanned Meg's face lightly. By the time Yahiko returned, they had Meg in one of the porch chairs.
"Thank you, Yahiko."
"You want smellin' salts, too, Meg?" Yahiko asked. "On the radio they always give smellin' salts to ladies that faint and all."
"No, I'll be fine." Meg sipped the water as she gazed at the now-closed briefcase. "Those pistols...they belong to my family. The Carnegies."
"Carnegie?" Sano took off his hat and scratched at his wild hair. "That's an American name. You're Japanese."
"Not exactly."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"My mother, Katherine Carnegie, was from Boston. Her family, rich industrialists, decided they wanted to open a textile mill here in San Francisco. Grandpa Carnegie thought that he'd best not leave his only daughter out east, not with Grandma gone to heaven. So, when he came west, he brought my mother with him.
She was young, only seventeen, and prettier than most of the hardy pioneer women who made it out this way. Mama had no end of beaus, suitor after suitor calling at their manor, inviting her to luncheons and dances. Even the mayor's son.
She fell in love with a gold-miner's son named Travis. Or, rather, she thought it was love. But, I guess Mama was too young to know the difference. Travis had lots of new money, and he didn't mind spending it on my mother to convince her... Well, before she knew it, Mama wasn't an innocent girl anymore. She was carrying a child, and she wasn't married.
And Travis moved on to woo another.
Of course, if anyone found out, she'd have been scandalized. She confided in her maid, an old Japanese woman. The maid told her that there were potions, drugs, concoctions to get rid of such things. It didn't take long before the pair had concocted a plan. The old servant helped my mother sneak out of the house, and escorted her to Chinatown.
In the dusty back-alley apothecary, my mother spilled her broken-hearted story to a young Japanese pharmacist by the name of Takani Saigo. The gentle doctor was so friendly, and so understanding as he mixed the concoction, that he and my mother became instant friends.
I suppose you can figure out what happened next. While my mother was recovering from the potion he had given her, Saigo came to visit every day. It must have been daunting, seeing as how she lived in a huge manor across the city, and the only way he could get past grandpa was to pretend to be delivering flowers from a secret admirer. Then he would wait for my mother to pen a return letter to the unknown beau, all the while chatting quietly with the object of his affection.
Clever, really.
They fell in love, of course. For real, this time. Papa wanted nothing in his life more than to marry Mama. And she, she wanted nothing more than to live with Papa. Mama never cared about the Carnegie fortune. She just wanted to be a simple woman, a woman in love. And so, she ran away to Chinatown. They were wed as soon as possible, and soon after, I came along.
I should note that things were hard for them both. Not only did they have to keep it a secret from the Carnegie family, but interacting with local Chinatown residents was often difficult, as well. Mama did not know -any- Japanese, and some of the older people were quite hostile towards her. But, they did their best. Yes, together they made a cozy little home.
Mama was sad to leave her family behind, especially her father. He was strict, but she loved him nonetheless. When she heard news of his passing, she cried endlessly. It tore her up inside not to have been by his side at the end, and when she realized that she couldn't go to his funeral, she locked herself in the powder room for days.
Grandpa, being the oldest son of the Carnegie family, was heir to sizeable estate. And mother, being his oldest child, was next in line to obtain controlling interest in their companies.
Strangely, Grandpa had never changed his will after Mama left. I suppose he always hoped that she would return to him.
Other family members went crazy. They had to find Mama, or her stock shares would be sold to the stockholders. They hired detectives, police, spies. Anyone. They followed up every lead, and they finally found her, right here, in Chinatown.
They thought it preposterous that she had married a lowly Japanese man. And how dare she give birth to a half-breed daughter? But, nonetheless, they needed her. My uncles and aunts and other assorted family members would lose their money if the Carnegie corporations fell into the hands of the board.
They threatened to kill me, and my father. In the end, my mother was forced to return to Boston. They took me along, of course. They had to control my fate, and make certain that the Carnegie corporation's money wouldn't fall into my hands in years to come.
But, they couldn't have a half-Japanese baby toddling around after the heir to the Carnegie's fortune. Not in the cutthroat social circles of Boston's elite. So, they sent me to live in the small Massachusetts town of Cape Cod with my great-aunt Quincy. Aunt Quincy was the Carnegie family's other outcast, a sour old dowager who eschewed her family's questionable money-making tactics.
Aunt Quincy was quite a firm disciplinarian, a stout old woman who didn't think twice about beating her lazy chauffer with her handbag when she found him drinking her cognac. She didn't go to church, because she said that if God needed her assistance, He'd ask. And she had the most horrifying little mongrel of a dog, a Pomeranian named 'Martin'.
At first, I was terrified of her. I'd grown up in Chinatown, and wasn't used to assertive and liberated American women. But, in time, Aunt Quincy and I became partners in crime. She never once made any comments about my half-Japanese heritage. According to Aunt Quincy, fine ladies could hail from any culture. One only needed grace, kindness, and eloquence. I think, in the end, that I was Aunt Quincy's favorite project. We made quite a pair walking about Cape Cod, the wicked old widow and her exotic protege. We'd take trips to New York City to see Aunt Quincy's friends, and she'd take me to museums and operas. No one dared say a word to Quincy Carnegie, society's eccentric grande dame. She had too many old biddies as friends, and one well-placed rumor could have your dance card completely empty out for seasons on end.
Mama came to visit when she could. But, her family attempted to keep her from me as much as possible. They held her captive with threats and insinuations. She always looked as if she hadn't slept in weeks by the time she visited. I worried about her, and about father back West, all the time.
And then, Aunt Quincy decided I needed to learn something new. I suppose she knew about our dangerous relatives and wanted me to be able to protect myself.
So, she bought me a pair of dueling pistols.
I trained every day. Really, I was quite good. I'd perform trick shooting at Aunt Quincy's garden parties, much to the delight of her friends.
But, back in Boston, things weren't going well. The Carnegie family was putting pressure on Mama to write me out of her will. Aunt Quincy was quite worried that they'd try to hurt me. So, the month before I turned 18, old enough to have some shares of Carnegie stock transferred into my name, Aunt Quincy gave me half of her savings, and took me to the train station.
"Don't tell me where you're going, Meg," she said. "Just go. Go somewhere and change your name. Avoid everyone for a while, even your father. You don't let them get to you. I raised you to be strong and proud, and you go out into the world and do right by your Aunt Quincy."
So, I did. I drifted for a while on Aunt Quincy's money. When it ran out, I took a job in a small traveling circus doing trick-shooting on horseback. I felt low. Circus life was a far cry from opera and garden parties. For two years, I traveled America.
And then, one day, I fell from my horse. I couldn't perform with a broken leg. So, I took the twenty dollars in my savings, and took the train west.
Home. Home to San Francisco and to my father.
He was so glad to see me. He took me in, and I began to work for him in his apothecary. I liked it much better than being in the circus, by far. Healing people was quite a noble profession, one would make even Aunt Quincy proud. "Doctors", she had always told me, "Are the pillars of society. You must invite one to every social gathering you hold. Not only are they intelligent, but if a lady swoons or faints it is good to have one handy."
We lived peacefully together for some time. I began to think that the Carnegie family had given up on tracking me down.
But, then, one September night, I heard shouting downstairs. I climbed out of bed and rushed towards my father's voice.
I don't know who those men were. Thugs hired by the Carnegies, I suppose. They grabbed me by my hair and forced me against the wall.
My father. My poor, gentle-hearted father. They shot him.
I didn't understand why. Why? He wasn't in line to inherit their precious money. Why would they do such a horrible, cruel, senseless thing?
I didn't understand until months later, when the society column announced that Katherine Carnegie, my mother, was to be engaged to an up-and-coming businessmanI recognized as one of my Uncle Robert's lackeys. Of course, they wantedto marry my mother off so that they could manipulate the businesses moreeffectively through her husband. The stock I owned was nothing compared to my mother's assets. They didn't care now, what became of me, since upon my mother's death, all of her money would pass to her new husband. And -he- had probably signed a contract to return everything to the Carnegie family.
Insidious, no?
I was outraged. Depressed. So affected by my father's death that I could barely run the apothecary. Everything reminded me of him, of the happiness he and my mother once had. Some days, I didn't even open the store. I just sat in my room, trying to decide the most painless way to die.
But, not long after my father's death, I was visiting his grave, and I happened upon Kaoru and Yahiko.
Kaoru, too, had lost her father, and her mother as well. And yet, she kept smiling. She was perhaps the most upbeat and positive person I'd ever met. When she said that they needed a tenant for the old flower shop, I accepted immediately, in the hopes that I could start a new life. I assumed, perhaps incorrectly, that my relatives had finally forgotten about me...
Until that package was delivered.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The residents of the Kamiya Learning Center, plus the two visiting Italians, stood gaping at Meg. Even Yahiko looked concerned, kneeling beside Meg's chair and scowling like an upset puppy.
"Goodness, Meg," Kaoru finally said, "That's just awful."
Sano swished his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, "Sure, it's awful an' all. But, don't you get it? It means Meg's an heiress! Missy's been living next door to a rich woman. The bank almost foreclosed on Kaoru's house, when her tenant was probably one of the richest women in San Francisco all along! Yahiko almost got killed trying to get money for his sister..."
Even Mrs. Giovanni had no response to this but a thoughtful clicking of her tongue.
Meg's lips twitched in annoyance as she flounced her hair over her shoulder. "I sold my few shares when I moved here. I needed money before I had regular customers. Herbal apothecaries aren't exactly the most profitable of businesses."
"Of course you did, darling," Mrs. Giovanni replied, patting Meg on the shoulder as she glared at her son for even -suggesting- that Meg might be anything less than the most upstanding of young ladies. "Poor delicate child."
Kenshin, who had been crouched against the whitewashed railing on the porch, looked perplexed as he ran his fingers over the elegantly crafted gun case. "It doesn't explain why they would come after Miss Meg now. If the family money is no longer in danger of being passed to her, why threaten her?"
Meg folded her white-gloved hands in her lap and sighed, "That's something I'm afraid I don't know. All I know is that the Carnegie family will do anything to get more money, and the money they already have lets them get away with anything they do. It's useless to contact the authorities, because you can never tell who has been bribed. Did you know there wasn't even an investigation after my father was killed? The police wrote it off as a burglary gone wrong."
Kaoru watched Kenshin consider this. His eyes, glazed over with internal confusion, stared at the floor of the wooden porch. Was he thinking of the murder of Takani-san, wondering if he had ever killed some kindhearted girl's father? He seemed a million miles away, lost in a sea of sadness, confusion, and regret. It lasted for only a moment. And then, as if he knew he was being watched, a small smile graced Kenshin's lips. He looked up, straight at Kaoru, once again becomming the mysterious but gentle detective she'd taken into her house.
"Oh, I know!" Yahiko exclaimed, "Why don't you hire Sano and Kenshin to find out who sent the guns and what they want from you? They are supposed to be detectives, after all. And they don't got no other big cases..."
"Don't -have- any other big cases," Kaoru corrected, pursing her lips.
Yahiko rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Geez, sis. You're such a nagging Nancy."
"Yes, well, at least I speak English properly." Kaoru suddenly remembered herself and looked at her red-headed boarder, "No offense intended, Kenshin."
Still smiling, Kenshin nodded in reply and raised his gaze towards the fedora-hatted Italian standing next to him. "What do you think, Sano?"
"Well, we are supposed to be keeping dibs on Mr. Tipanelli's activities for Mrs. Tipanelli. But, since we've already deduced that his suspected mistress is actually the dog track, I don't see why not."
"I..." Meg tugged at the fingertips of her gloves, removing them slowly and folding them in half, "I'm afraid I don't have much money to offer."
"But, of course you do, Meg!" Yahiko replied, "Once everything's been put right, you can sell that gun and the case down at Mr. Kazemoto's pawn shop."
"Yes, I suppose...."
"Miss Meg, are these pistols the same type you used for your trick shottery?" Kenshin asked, standing and brushing the later summer dust from his pants.
"Trick -shooting-," Kaoru murmured, unable to resist. Kenshin nodded as he mentally marked down the correct word.
"Indeed they are. I suppose my father's murderers did steal something, after all."
Sano took off his hat and scratched his head. "Hm. Well, I s'pose we could start by tracking down any relatives of Meg's that might be in the city and questioning them. You think you can give us a list of names, Meg?"
"Certainly."
"What can I do?" Yahiko asked, hopping up to sit on the railing, "I want to help, too. I'm a junior detective, after all, aren't I?"
Sano chuckled and caught the boy in a headlock, "Sure, you're a junior detective. But, we ain't paying you nothing." As Yahiko struggled helplessly to escape the oncoming noogie, Sano looked at his mother, "Say Ma, why don't you take everyone over to our house for the time being. It'll be safer for Meg to be somewhere they don't know about. 'Sides, you'll have Junior Detective Yahiko to look after you."
"Oh, that'll be fine," Mrs. Giovanni replied. "You wouldn't mind looking after us, would you, little Yahiko?"
"Little?" Yahiko finally succeeded in escaping from Sano. "Don't call me..."
"Wonderful. I'll make more brownies and we'll have a fine time."
Yahiko became frozen with the thought of more brownies, and immediately forgot that he'd just been insulted.
Kaoru smiled. "Come on, Meg, lets go pack some things."
"Alright."
As Kaoru, Yahiko, Meg and Mrs. Giovanni disappeared into the monstrously purple Kamiya Learning Center, Kenshin picked up the gun case and handed it to Sano. The tall Italian flipped open the latches and peered at the ornate dueling pistol.
"What do you think, Kenshin?"
"Something not quite right about it, Sano."
Sanoretti nodded and snapped the case shut again. "This'll be a doozy. Guns are really dangerous things. Even these ancient pistols could tear a hole in a man as big as a fist. Someone could get seriously hurt."
Kenshin smirked and picked up his folded trenchcoat off of one of the porch chairs. "Ah yes. But there is a saying in your country..."
"Which one?"
"Never bring a gun to a swordfight."
"You have that backwards, Kenshin."
"Oh."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Would you like a beer, sir?" The young Irish barmaid smiled pleasantly at her customer. He'd been sitting on the very end stool all evening long, just flipping a silver lighter in his hand, lighting it and snapping it closed. Over. And over. And over.
Flick. Flame. Click. Flick. Flame. Click.
"Your alcohol is putrid. I'd rather drink horse piss."
"Oh," the red-headed woman stepped backwards slightly and forced herself to smile. "Can I get you something else, then?"
"Yes. Ice water."
The girl nodded meekly and hopped away, leaving the surly customer to his thoughts.
"I hate this country."
An older gentleman halfway down the bar looked up from his newspaper and stole a glance at the other customer. His eyes widened in fear, and he immediately returned to his previous task.
"That's right. You heard me. I -hate- this country. I hate the way it smells, as if its been dipped in sewage. I hate the sound of your church bells, the whiny high-pitched squeals of your little children as they gobble ice cream cones. I hate the way you dress, with your clunky shoes and your abrasive fabrics, constricting around the body like a python. I hate the language, nasal and loud, like the squawking of a chicken. I hate baseball, and ragtime music, and picture shows. This entire land is repulsive and backwards, full of misfits and criminals."
None of the other half-dozen bar occupants had a single word to say in response.
Flick. Flame. Click. Flick. Flame. Click.
"Here's your ice water, sir," the bartender said with forced pleasantry. "That'll be two cents."
The requested pennies fell onto the table. The barmaid moved to scoop them up, almost visibly trembling as she looked at her customer. "Um. Thanks, uh..." The girl squinted at badge on the man's chest, "Thanks, Officer Taylor. Taylor, huh? That's a pretty funny name for an oriental fella."
Officer Taylor leaned forward until his nose was only about one centimeter from the Irish barmaid. He grabbed her chin and inhaled deeply. "You're pretty far from home, aren't you?"
"Well, I..."
The policeman released the girl. She stumbled towards the other end of the bar, desperately trying to keep her cool as she went to refill another customer's beer.
"The Irish ones always smell like rotten potatoes, no matter how long they've been here," Officer Taylor said to no one in particular. "Well, maybe there is one country more pathetic than the United States after all."
With a grunt, the cop lifted his ice water in one hand and held it up, toasting the air.
"Here's to you, Tokio. Thank God you're not Irish."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In Our Next Chapter: Uh oh, a very familiar cop is in town. Will Kenshin and Sano find out who sent the guns to Meg before they try to kill her? Will Yahiko explode from eating too many brownies?
Author Notes: Thanks to everyone who has been enjoying this story! If you'd like, take a look at my site, angrybee.vze.com and click on "Fanfiction Extras" to take a peek at some fan art which ChiisaiLammy has so graciously done. She's drawn Kenshin, Sano, Yahiko, Meg and Kaoru in their 1920's attire!
Penny Dreadfuls were small 19th century publications, very pulpy sorts of stories, written for their shock value. They lost their popularity by the beginning of the 20th century, which is why Sano tells his mother "No one reads those anymore."
The title of this story "Hot and Cold" refers not only to Kenshin and Kaoru's particular body temperatures, but more to the old children's game "Hot and Cold", where one child seeks out an object, and the other children tell him if he is getting "Hotter" or "Colder" in finding the object.
Yahiko blinked and poked the passed-out Meg in the cheek with his finger. "D'ya think she's dead?"
"That really isn't a nice thing to say, Yahiko, now is it?" Kaoru pushed her brother out of the way and knelt down on the porch to press a wet rag to Meg's head.
"Poor girl's in shock," Mrs. Giovanni clicked her tongue noisily as she knelt down on the other side of Meg. "A terrible business. What a terrible business. Do you think I should go fetch Dr. Genselli, Sano?"
"Nah." Sano, who had resumed leaning against one of the porch posts, flipped his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "She ain't got yellow fever or nothing, Ma. She just fainted."
"Just like a delicate lady in one of those penny dreadfuls," Mrs. Giovanni replied, putting her fingers against Meg's cheek. "Just like that."
"Geez, you're old, Ma. No one reads those no more."
"Sanoretti Giovanni! Don't you speak to your mother in that tone..."
Kenshin, who this whole time had been alternating between staring at a note he couldn't read, and the box containing the dueling pistol, finally said, "Carnegie. Why would they call her 'Meg Carnegie', Miss Kaoru?"
Kaoru shook her head, indicating that she did not know, as she picked up Meg's wrist and checked for a pulse. Seeming satisfied after a few moments, Kaoru looked up at Kenshin, "She's always been Meg Takani, as long as I've known her."
Meg turned her head to the side a bit, her brows knit in mild discomfort as her lips trembled.
"Oh, I think she's coming around. Meg? Meg? Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes," Meg replied sternly, as if put out by the whole fainting incident. Nonetheless, her fingers curled around Kaoru's, seeking out support. For a moment, she hid her face in the curve of Kaoru's bent leg. "Oh, mother. How has it come to this?"
"Meg?" Kaoru blinked, not used to her friend indulging in these sorts of shows of emotion. She slipped her fingers into the other lady's hair and stroked it gently, "Meg, what is it? What's this all about?"
"There's no reason to make a fuss," Meg replied, allowing Kaoru to help her sit up. They waited while Yahiko went inside to fetch some water. Mrs. Giovanni, on the other hand, took a church program out of her handbag and fanned Meg's face lightly. By the time Yahiko returned, they had Meg in one of the porch chairs.
"Thank you, Yahiko."
"You want smellin' salts, too, Meg?" Yahiko asked. "On the radio they always give smellin' salts to ladies that faint and all."
"No, I'll be fine." Meg sipped the water as she gazed at the now-closed briefcase. "Those pistols...they belong to my family. The Carnegies."
"Carnegie?" Sano took off his hat and scratched at his wild hair. "That's an American name. You're Japanese."
"Not exactly."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"My mother, Katherine Carnegie, was from Boston. Her family, rich industrialists, decided they wanted to open a textile mill here in San Francisco. Grandpa Carnegie thought that he'd best not leave his only daughter out east, not with Grandma gone to heaven. So, when he came west, he brought my mother with him.
She was young, only seventeen, and prettier than most of the hardy pioneer women who made it out this way. Mama had no end of beaus, suitor after suitor calling at their manor, inviting her to luncheons and dances. Even the mayor's son.
She fell in love with a gold-miner's son named Travis. Or, rather, she thought it was love. But, I guess Mama was too young to know the difference. Travis had lots of new money, and he didn't mind spending it on my mother to convince her... Well, before she knew it, Mama wasn't an innocent girl anymore. She was carrying a child, and she wasn't married.
And Travis moved on to woo another.
Of course, if anyone found out, she'd have been scandalized. She confided in her maid, an old Japanese woman. The maid told her that there were potions, drugs, concoctions to get rid of such things. It didn't take long before the pair had concocted a plan. The old servant helped my mother sneak out of the house, and escorted her to Chinatown.
In the dusty back-alley apothecary, my mother spilled her broken-hearted story to a young Japanese pharmacist by the name of Takani Saigo. The gentle doctor was so friendly, and so understanding as he mixed the concoction, that he and my mother became instant friends.
I suppose you can figure out what happened next. While my mother was recovering from the potion he had given her, Saigo came to visit every day. It must have been daunting, seeing as how she lived in a huge manor across the city, and the only way he could get past grandpa was to pretend to be delivering flowers from a secret admirer. Then he would wait for my mother to pen a return letter to the unknown beau, all the while chatting quietly with the object of his affection.
Clever, really.
They fell in love, of course. For real, this time. Papa wanted nothing in his life more than to marry Mama. And she, she wanted nothing more than to live with Papa. Mama never cared about the Carnegie fortune. She just wanted to be a simple woman, a woman in love. And so, she ran away to Chinatown. They were wed as soon as possible, and soon after, I came along.
I should note that things were hard for them both. Not only did they have to keep it a secret from the Carnegie family, but interacting with local Chinatown residents was often difficult, as well. Mama did not know -any- Japanese, and some of the older people were quite hostile towards her. But, they did their best. Yes, together they made a cozy little home.
Mama was sad to leave her family behind, especially her father. He was strict, but she loved him nonetheless. When she heard news of his passing, she cried endlessly. It tore her up inside not to have been by his side at the end, and when she realized that she couldn't go to his funeral, she locked herself in the powder room for days.
Grandpa, being the oldest son of the Carnegie family, was heir to sizeable estate. And mother, being his oldest child, was next in line to obtain controlling interest in their companies.
Strangely, Grandpa had never changed his will after Mama left. I suppose he always hoped that she would return to him.
Other family members went crazy. They had to find Mama, or her stock shares would be sold to the stockholders. They hired detectives, police, spies. Anyone. They followed up every lead, and they finally found her, right here, in Chinatown.
They thought it preposterous that she had married a lowly Japanese man. And how dare she give birth to a half-breed daughter? But, nonetheless, they needed her. My uncles and aunts and other assorted family members would lose their money if the Carnegie corporations fell into the hands of the board.
They threatened to kill me, and my father. In the end, my mother was forced to return to Boston. They took me along, of course. They had to control my fate, and make certain that the Carnegie corporation's money wouldn't fall into my hands in years to come.
But, they couldn't have a half-Japanese baby toddling around after the heir to the Carnegie's fortune. Not in the cutthroat social circles of Boston's elite. So, they sent me to live in the small Massachusetts town of Cape Cod with my great-aunt Quincy. Aunt Quincy was the Carnegie family's other outcast, a sour old dowager who eschewed her family's questionable money-making tactics.
Aunt Quincy was quite a firm disciplinarian, a stout old woman who didn't think twice about beating her lazy chauffer with her handbag when she found him drinking her cognac. She didn't go to church, because she said that if God needed her assistance, He'd ask. And she had the most horrifying little mongrel of a dog, a Pomeranian named 'Martin'.
At first, I was terrified of her. I'd grown up in Chinatown, and wasn't used to assertive and liberated American women. But, in time, Aunt Quincy and I became partners in crime. She never once made any comments about my half-Japanese heritage. According to Aunt Quincy, fine ladies could hail from any culture. One only needed grace, kindness, and eloquence. I think, in the end, that I was Aunt Quincy's favorite project. We made quite a pair walking about Cape Cod, the wicked old widow and her exotic protege. We'd take trips to New York City to see Aunt Quincy's friends, and she'd take me to museums and operas. No one dared say a word to Quincy Carnegie, society's eccentric grande dame. She had too many old biddies as friends, and one well-placed rumor could have your dance card completely empty out for seasons on end.
Mama came to visit when she could. But, her family attempted to keep her from me as much as possible. They held her captive with threats and insinuations. She always looked as if she hadn't slept in weeks by the time she visited. I worried about her, and about father back West, all the time.
And then, Aunt Quincy decided I needed to learn something new. I suppose she knew about our dangerous relatives and wanted me to be able to protect myself.
So, she bought me a pair of dueling pistols.
I trained every day. Really, I was quite good. I'd perform trick shooting at Aunt Quincy's garden parties, much to the delight of her friends.
But, back in Boston, things weren't going well. The Carnegie family was putting pressure on Mama to write me out of her will. Aunt Quincy was quite worried that they'd try to hurt me. So, the month before I turned 18, old enough to have some shares of Carnegie stock transferred into my name, Aunt Quincy gave me half of her savings, and took me to the train station.
"Don't tell me where you're going, Meg," she said. "Just go. Go somewhere and change your name. Avoid everyone for a while, even your father. You don't let them get to you. I raised you to be strong and proud, and you go out into the world and do right by your Aunt Quincy."
So, I did. I drifted for a while on Aunt Quincy's money. When it ran out, I took a job in a small traveling circus doing trick-shooting on horseback. I felt low. Circus life was a far cry from opera and garden parties. For two years, I traveled America.
And then, one day, I fell from my horse. I couldn't perform with a broken leg. So, I took the twenty dollars in my savings, and took the train west.
Home. Home to San Francisco and to my father.
He was so glad to see me. He took me in, and I began to work for him in his apothecary. I liked it much better than being in the circus, by far. Healing people was quite a noble profession, one would make even Aunt Quincy proud. "Doctors", she had always told me, "Are the pillars of society. You must invite one to every social gathering you hold. Not only are they intelligent, but if a lady swoons or faints it is good to have one handy."
We lived peacefully together for some time. I began to think that the Carnegie family had given up on tracking me down.
But, then, one September night, I heard shouting downstairs. I climbed out of bed and rushed towards my father's voice.
I don't know who those men were. Thugs hired by the Carnegies, I suppose. They grabbed me by my hair and forced me against the wall.
My father. My poor, gentle-hearted father. They shot him.
I didn't understand why. Why? He wasn't in line to inherit their precious money. Why would they do such a horrible, cruel, senseless thing?
I didn't understand until months later, when the society column announced that Katherine Carnegie, my mother, was to be engaged to an up-and-coming businessmanI recognized as one of my Uncle Robert's lackeys. Of course, they wantedto marry my mother off so that they could manipulate the businesses moreeffectively through her husband. The stock I owned was nothing compared to my mother's assets. They didn't care now, what became of me, since upon my mother's death, all of her money would pass to her new husband. And -he- had probably signed a contract to return everything to the Carnegie family.
Insidious, no?
I was outraged. Depressed. So affected by my father's death that I could barely run the apothecary. Everything reminded me of him, of the happiness he and my mother once had. Some days, I didn't even open the store. I just sat in my room, trying to decide the most painless way to die.
But, not long after my father's death, I was visiting his grave, and I happened upon Kaoru and Yahiko.
Kaoru, too, had lost her father, and her mother as well. And yet, she kept smiling. She was perhaps the most upbeat and positive person I'd ever met. When she said that they needed a tenant for the old flower shop, I accepted immediately, in the hopes that I could start a new life. I assumed, perhaps incorrectly, that my relatives had finally forgotten about me...
Until that package was delivered.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The residents of the Kamiya Learning Center, plus the two visiting Italians, stood gaping at Meg. Even Yahiko looked concerned, kneeling beside Meg's chair and scowling like an upset puppy.
"Goodness, Meg," Kaoru finally said, "That's just awful."
Sano swished his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, "Sure, it's awful an' all. But, don't you get it? It means Meg's an heiress! Missy's been living next door to a rich woman. The bank almost foreclosed on Kaoru's house, when her tenant was probably one of the richest women in San Francisco all along! Yahiko almost got killed trying to get money for his sister..."
Even Mrs. Giovanni had no response to this but a thoughtful clicking of her tongue.
Meg's lips twitched in annoyance as she flounced her hair over her shoulder. "I sold my few shares when I moved here. I needed money before I had regular customers. Herbal apothecaries aren't exactly the most profitable of businesses."
"Of course you did, darling," Mrs. Giovanni replied, patting Meg on the shoulder as she glared at her son for even -suggesting- that Meg might be anything less than the most upstanding of young ladies. "Poor delicate child."
Kenshin, who had been crouched against the whitewashed railing on the porch, looked perplexed as he ran his fingers over the elegantly crafted gun case. "It doesn't explain why they would come after Miss Meg now. If the family money is no longer in danger of being passed to her, why threaten her?"
Meg folded her white-gloved hands in her lap and sighed, "That's something I'm afraid I don't know. All I know is that the Carnegie family will do anything to get more money, and the money they already have lets them get away with anything they do. It's useless to contact the authorities, because you can never tell who has been bribed. Did you know there wasn't even an investigation after my father was killed? The police wrote it off as a burglary gone wrong."
Kaoru watched Kenshin consider this. His eyes, glazed over with internal confusion, stared at the floor of the wooden porch. Was he thinking of the murder of Takani-san, wondering if he had ever killed some kindhearted girl's father? He seemed a million miles away, lost in a sea of sadness, confusion, and regret. It lasted for only a moment. And then, as if he knew he was being watched, a small smile graced Kenshin's lips. He looked up, straight at Kaoru, once again becomming the mysterious but gentle detective she'd taken into her house.
"Oh, I know!" Yahiko exclaimed, "Why don't you hire Sano and Kenshin to find out who sent the guns and what they want from you? They are supposed to be detectives, after all. And they don't got no other big cases..."
"Don't -have- any other big cases," Kaoru corrected, pursing her lips.
Yahiko rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Geez, sis. You're such a nagging Nancy."
"Yes, well, at least I speak English properly." Kaoru suddenly remembered herself and looked at her red-headed boarder, "No offense intended, Kenshin."
Still smiling, Kenshin nodded in reply and raised his gaze towards the fedora-hatted Italian standing next to him. "What do you think, Sano?"
"Well, we are supposed to be keeping dibs on Mr. Tipanelli's activities for Mrs. Tipanelli. But, since we've already deduced that his suspected mistress is actually the dog track, I don't see why not."
"I..." Meg tugged at the fingertips of her gloves, removing them slowly and folding them in half, "I'm afraid I don't have much money to offer."
"But, of course you do, Meg!" Yahiko replied, "Once everything's been put right, you can sell that gun and the case down at Mr. Kazemoto's pawn shop."
"Yes, I suppose...."
"Miss Meg, are these pistols the same type you used for your trick shottery?" Kenshin asked, standing and brushing the later summer dust from his pants.
"Trick -shooting-," Kaoru murmured, unable to resist. Kenshin nodded as he mentally marked down the correct word.
"Indeed they are. I suppose my father's murderers did steal something, after all."
Sano took off his hat and scratched his head. "Hm. Well, I s'pose we could start by tracking down any relatives of Meg's that might be in the city and questioning them. You think you can give us a list of names, Meg?"
"Certainly."
"What can I do?" Yahiko asked, hopping up to sit on the railing, "I want to help, too. I'm a junior detective, after all, aren't I?"
Sano chuckled and caught the boy in a headlock, "Sure, you're a junior detective. But, we ain't paying you nothing." As Yahiko struggled helplessly to escape the oncoming noogie, Sano looked at his mother, "Say Ma, why don't you take everyone over to our house for the time being. It'll be safer for Meg to be somewhere they don't know about. 'Sides, you'll have Junior Detective Yahiko to look after you."
"Oh, that'll be fine," Mrs. Giovanni replied. "You wouldn't mind looking after us, would you, little Yahiko?"
"Little?" Yahiko finally succeeded in escaping from Sano. "Don't call me..."
"Wonderful. I'll make more brownies and we'll have a fine time."
Yahiko became frozen with the thought of more brownies, and immediately forgot that he'd just been insulted.
Kaoru smiled. "Come on, Meg, lets go pack some things."
"Alright."
As Kaoru, Yahiko, Meg and Mrs. Giovanni disappeared into the monstrously purple Kamiya Learning Center, Kenshin picked up the gun case and handed it to Sano. The tall Italian flipped open the latches and peered at the ornate dueling pistol.
"What do you think, Kenshin?"
"Something not quite right about it, Sano."
Sanoretti nodded and snapped the case shut again. "This'll be a doozy. Guns are really dangerous things. Even these ancient pistols could tear a hole in a man as big as a fist. Someone could get seriously hurt."
Kenshin smirked and picked up his folded trenchcoat off of one of the porch chairs. "Ah yes. But there is a saying in your country..."
"Which one?"
"Never bring a gun to a swordfight."
"You have that backwards, Kenshin."
"Oh."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Would you like a beer, sir?" The young Irish barmaid smiled pleasantly at her customer. He'd been sitting on the very end stool all evening long, just flipping a silver lighter in his hand, lighting it and snapping it closed. Over. And over. And over.
Flick. Flame. Click. Flick. Flame. Click.
"Your alcohol is putrid. I'd rather drink horse piss."
"Oh," the red-headed woman stepped backwards slightly and forced herself to smile. "Can I get you something else, then?"
"Yes. Ice water."
The girl nodded meekly and hopped away, leaving the surly customer to his thoughts.
"I hate this country."
An older gentleman halfway down the bar looked up from his newspaper and stole a glance at the other customer. His eyes widened in fear, and he immediately returned to his previous task.
"That's right. You heard me. I -hate- this country. I hate the way it smells, as if its been dipped in sewage. I hate the sound of your church bells, the whiny high-pitched squeals of your little children as they gobble ice cream cones. I hate the way you dress, with your clunky shoes and your abrasive fabrics, constricting around the body like a python. I hate the language, nasal and loud, like the squawking of a chicken. I hate baseball, and ragtime music, and picture shows. This entire land is repulsive and backwards, full of misfits and criminals."
None of the other half-dozen bar occupants had a single word to say in response.
Flick. Flame. Click. Flick. Flame. Click.
"Here's your ice water, sir," the bartender said with forced pleasantry. "That'll be two cents."
The requested pennies fell onto the table. The barmaid moved to scoop them up, almost visibly trembling as she looked at her customer. "Um. Thanks, uh..." The girl squinted at badge on the man's chest, "Thanks, Officer Taylor. Taylor, huh? That's a pretty funny name for an oriental fella."
Officer Taylor leaned forward until his nose was only about one centimeter from the Irish barmaid. He grabbed her chin and inhaled deeply. "You're pretty far from home, aren't you?"
"Well, I..."
The policeman released the girl. She stumbled towards the other end of the bar, desperately trying to keep her cool as she went to refill another customer's beer.
"The Irish ones always smell like rotten potatoes, no matter how long they've been here," Officer Taylor said to no one in particular. "Well, maybe there is one country more pathetic than the United States after all."
With a grunt, the cop lifted his ice water in one hand and held it up, toasting the air.
"Here's to you, Tokio. Thank God you're not Irish."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In Our Next Chapter: Uh oh, a very familiar cop is in town. Will Kenshin and Sano find out who sent the guns to Meg before they try to kill her? Will Yahiko explode from eating too many brownies?
Author Notes: Thanks to everyone who has been enjoying this story! If you'd like, take a look at my site, angrybee.vze.com and click on "Fanfiction Extras" to take a peek at some fan art which ChiisaiLammy has so graciously done. She's drawn Kenshin, Sano, Yahiko, Meg and Kaoru in their 1920's attire!
Penny Dreadfuls were small 19th century publications, very pulpy sorts of stories, written for their shock value. They lost their popularity by the beginning of the 20th century, which is why Sano tells his mother "No one reads those anymore."
The title of this story "Hot and Cold" refers not only to Kenshin and Kaoru's particular body temperatures, but more to the old children's game "Hot and Cold", where one child seeks out an object, and the other children tell him if he is getting "Hotter" or "Colder" in finding the object.