The Jacq of Spades Read online

  I glanced at the attendant, who left. “What happened?”

  “After your visit,” she sobbed, “he wondered if he raised money, you would change your mind and find David. He went to our neighbors, but no one would help us. After we saw the story of you feeding the poor in the paper, he said it seemed you had no time for us. The next morning he was gone. The constable contacted me yesterday: they found him in the Diamond slums, dead. Strangled.” She stared at his unmoving face, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Diamond. What was he doing there?

  Then I saw the blue finger-marks on the young man’s neck.

  More people lingered in the intersection than seemed normal for that time of night. A large crowd waited in the alleyways, doorways, and driveways, behind rusted clockwork machinery and broken-out windows, but quiet, hoping to see something happen.

  Roy Spadros and Peedro Sluff stood in that intersection, separated by several yards, facing each other.

  Peedro was a foul-smelling drunken addict, with a temper to match. The wisps of black hair on his balding head were as thin as the rags on his filthy thin body. His glazed eyes told me he had taken a lot of Party Time already.

  Roy Spadros said, “I trust you have what we agreed on.”

  “Yeah, I do,” Peedro Sluff said, in his whiny voice.

  “And where is she?”

  “She’ll be here. If not, I can show you where she lives.” If anything, though, Peedro’s body tensed even more, as if preparing to act, but afraid to try. He took a deep breath, and his right hand twitched.

  A brown-haired man dashed towards us from the right, several blocks away. Another money-man, but not so old as Roy Spadros, maybe eighteen or so. I liked him at once. A block away, he shouted urgently, but I couldn’t make out the words.

  Peedro Sluff froze uncertainly as the younger man raced towards them. Then Peedro whipped out a revolver from behind his belt and fired, the motion smoother than I could ever have imagined. People shrieked, scurrying behind fallen beams and broken hulks of steam automobiles.

  Something drew me from the alley like a magnet. I should have been frightened, but at the time it felt like a dream. I had seen men shot before. This made no sense; the younger man shouted a warning, not a threat.

  Where did Peedro Sluff get a gun? Where did he learn to shoot?

  Roy’s men dashed up from the street behind him, guns out, but Roy waved them off.

  Peedro Sluff dropped his arm to his side and spoke to Roy Spadros, his breath steaming. “He meant to kill you.”

  It didn’t seem that way at all. The man tried to warn someone, yet got shot for it. It seemed so unfair.

  Roy Spadros gave a slight smile, as if he found the whole thing funny. “Then you have my gratitude.”

  What a world we lived in. Young men murdered attempting to save a life, their valor used to further a villain’s scheme! Why did Herbert, or that friend of Jack Diamond’s … why did they have to die? A poor decision, a few minutes haste, a wrong turn down a street, and life disappeared.

  My eyes fell on a card lying on the table near Herbert’s slab, the sort used for business. But instead of a name and location, it had a stamp of a dog on it, all in red, with a note next to it: “Found on the body.”

  Would taking the case have prevented this?

  I made the right choice not to take this case. I helped people pay their rent and find their cats. I had no experience in solving a kidnapping. It was a police matter.

  Why would Herbert leave his mother alone? How - and why - did he go to Diamond?

  Finding Herbert in the Diamond quadrant did explain why Stephen hadn’t heard of a boy being held. Even if his “ace” was as tight-lipped as Stephen said, there should have been some rumor or indication of a young boy held against his will in Spadros.

  Across the river, though, anything might be happening and no one in Spadros would know. Foot traffic wasn’t allowed over the bridges. The river was too cold and fast this time of year to swim. Few uppers had reason to cross into another Family’s territory unless invited. To a lower like Stephen or his ace, Diamond quadrant might as well be another city.

  “I’m sorry about Herbert. He seemed like a good boy.”

  “He just wanted to find his brother. Now they’re both gone.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sure the police will find David.”

  Her eyes never left her son’s body, but her face screamed that she had lost all hope.

  The Surprise

  When I returned home, Tony, his mother Molly, and his sister Katherine played croquet in the garden. His father Roy sat under a lawn canopy smoking a cigar.

  Why was Roy here? What did he tell Tony?

  A maid stood behind Roy, waiting for orders. Roy’s men watched our surroundings; I imagined they scanned for marksmen. Not that I expected any to appear on the Spadros Manor grounds. But when you had as many enemies as Roy, paranoia became prudent.

  Katherine Spadros was thirteen and in that gangling awkward age of intensity and drama. She dropped her mallet and charged, auburn hair flying, to envelop me in a crushing embrace. “Oh, Jacqui, I’m so happy to see you!”

  “I’m happy to see you as well.” When she let go, I took a breath. “Who’s winning?”

  “Mama, but I’m second.”

  I lowered my voice. “You should let your brother win, since he’s not feeling well.”

  Tony winced. “I heard that. I am neither incapacitated nor infirm.”

  “Would you like to play?” Molly said.

  “She can’t come in the middle!” Katherine said. “It’s not fair!”

  I chuckled. “I’m content to watch.” I took a chair across from Roy, who ignored me, as I did him.

  I was not happy to see Roy. If he had spoken to me right then I might have stabbed him with my boot-knife.

  I asked the maid for brandy, sipping it, trying to forget the throbbing of my face and abdomen. I lit a cigarette and took a drag. When he glanced my way, I blew smoke in his direction, daring him to say anything. He disappointed me. I would have liked an excuse to put my knife in his cold dead eye.

  Tony watched me without expression. I smiled at him.

  As we walked back to the Manor later (Katherine did win after all), Roy spent a moment whispering with one of his men, then walked along grinning.

  “You look pleased.” I hoped the villain choked to death on whatever torment he planned.

  Roy chuckled. “You just read the papers tomorrow, Missy … I’m planning a surprise.”

  I recalled the third time I was taken to Spadros Manor, a few months after my father shot Jack’s friend. After bathing, scrubbing, stuffing me into a dress, and this time, a “training corset,” which I detested, the maids led me to Roy’s study.

  Roy said, “I’m planning a surprise …” which at the time meant sending Tony on an errand with his mother and taking me in his carriage on a tour of his holdings.

  “How do you like Anthony?”

  I shrugged. At twelve, I rarely thought about boys one way or the other.

  “When you are grown, you and he will marry. Then you will own all this.”

  Oh, I thought at the time, it would be good to own all this. I had no idea what being married meant. No one who lived in the Pot had money to get married.

  Roy seemed in a particularly introspective mood that day. “I fear Anthony doesn’t have it in him to do what it takes to run this Family. But I think you do.” He turned to me. “I’ll teach you how to do what I do. If my son needs help, will you help him?”

  “Yes, sir.” After many beatings, I learned to say this in reply to anything Roy Spadros asked.

  After that, I received two sets of lessons when I went to the Manor, which increased to two or three times a month. One set of lessons took place with Molly and Pearson: reading, writing, painting, needlework, managing a household, doing accounts.

  The other set of lessons was with Roy. Roy taught me to shoot, to kill without a gun, th
e structure and purposes of the Family Business, strategy, tactics.

  Many times, Tony joined us for the lessons, but not always: Tony had never seen me beaten after the first time, which sent him into hysterics. As far as I know, he had no idea I knew anything about violence. I don’t know what he thought, but Tony never showed any jealousy about his parents teaching me.

  As time went on, I began to feel in two worlds. I returned to the Pot clean and fed, with fine clothes, new knowledge, and new connections. In Spadros Manor, I felt dirty, unwanted, and misunderstood. “Are you going to kill the man?”

  Roy laughed. “Don’t even try, Jacq — you’re out of your depth. Just watch and learn.”

  I seethed at his cold, mocking tone.

  Pearson met us at the back door and addressed Tony. “Will your family be staying for dinner, sir?”

  Before Tony could answer, Roy said, “No. I have things to do.”

  Thank the Floorman. Dinner with Roy was torture in itself.

  Once they left, Tony sighed. “I’m glad they didn’t stay. I exerted myself too much, and Katie hugs much too vigorously.” He looked pale. “Would you tell Pearson we’ll be dining in our rooms tonight?”

  I took Tony’s arm. “Only my corset saved me a fractured rib from Katherine’s pincer-like embrace.”

  “Pincer-like.” Tony began to laugh, then winced. “Don’t make me laugh,” he said, but a laugh burst from him, “it hurts.”

  “Perhaps you need a corset.”

  “Ow.” Tony laughed again. “Stop.”

  “Poor dear.” I put on a sober demeanor, “I will be completely grave henceforth.”

  He began laughing. “You are utterly wicked.” He went from laughing to complaining and back again all the way up the stair.

  I accompanied Tony to his room and got him seated with a book, then returned to tell Pearson of the changes. “And I will need to speak with Amelia after dinner.”

  When I returned to our rooms, Tony stood by his dresser, putting the opium bottle away.

  I felt chagrined. “I had no idea you were in such pain.”

  “I only took a bit more.” He returned to his seat. “I wanted to sit with you up here, instead of going through such fuss as to dress for dinner. We have no one to entertain or impress tonight.”

  “I’m glad!” Since he was left-handed, I sat to his right.

  Honor came in with the tray, set out our dinner, uncovered our plates, and poured our wine. “If it please you, sir, Michaels will be available for the next hour should you need anything. I’ll be going to my mother’s for her birthday.” Our night footman would be on duty after that.

  “Send her our blessings,” Tony said.

  “Thank you, sir.” Honor bowed and left.

  After the door closed, Tony took a drink of his wine as I began to eat, then picked at his food. I was halfway through my meal when he said, “You dislike my father.”

  “Dislike is not the word I would use.”

  Tony said nothing.

  Rage boiled up. “He is your father, not mine. Nor my husband, nor my kin. Am I required to love him? He stole me from my home …” I stopped, coming too close to revealing his attack on me.

  “You hate him.” Tony put his fork down. “I hated him once … long ago.…” He sighed. “Hate ties you to the one you hate as tightly as love. Far better, if you can’t love, to do neither.”

  His words cut me to my heart. I kissed his hand, grieved at the thought of Tony having Roy for a father.

  Tony turned my face to his. “Don’t cry.” Pain lay in his voice. “Not for me.” He kissed my forehead and smoothed my hair. “I’m well, and we’re safe here. Please. Be happy.”

  I blinked my tears away and tried to smile.

  “Forget my father. Let’s enjoy our dinner.”

  For a few moments, I forgot everything but the peace of companionship, holding hands with Tony while we ate.

  But then I remembered my evening was far from over.

  Should I go to the tent meeting?

  I needed to. In truth, it shocked me that Mr. Pike published the pamphlet. He must have done it before leaving the newspaper, unless the Bridgers owned a printing press themselves.

  The publication was madness, especially for a man with a wife and child depending on his salary. What good did Mr. Pike think publishing the pamphlet would do, other than fixing the eyes of the four Families upon him?

  Knowing what little I did of Mr. Pike, he probably felt publishing his pamphlet was the right thing to do, no matter what the cost to himself or his family. He was more than likely to end up dead.

  Thrace Pike was too much the crusader, but I wished no harm on him. If Roy planned some hurt to come to the man because of me, I needed to warn him. If not, I had to learn his plans, if only to protect myself.

  When dinner was cleared away, I poured Tony some red wine from the sideboard, putting a drop of opium in his cup. Since his back was to me, he never noticed.

  I handed him his glass. “To your health.” He clinked glasses with mine, smiling, then drank. I leaned over and kissed him. He set the empty cup down and took me into his lap, whereupon we made pleasant use of the time.

  Twenty minutes later, he snored in his chair.

  I had never heard him snore before. At the time, I thought he must be very tired from his difficult day.

  About then, Amelia arrived, and we got Tony into bed.

  “I need to go out tonight.”

  Amelia gave me a questioning glance but said nothing.

  I replaced my wedding ring with a plain band from a poorhouse sale. Several carats of jewels seemed too much for one finger, but Tony insisted I have the best. Amelia helped me out of my corset, and I changed into an outfit which buttoned up the front. I only used this outfit when on cases, so no one would recognize me.

  This dress was high necked, of plain cloth and dark brown. I wore a dark brown hat with a thick veil. With the veil, even I couldn’t tell who I was when I looked in the mirror. I used a scarf to cover my hair, and added various bits of padding to change my shape from time to time.

  Leaving off my corset made me appear heavier, shorter, older. It also meant Amelia didn’t have to wait there to help me undress when I returned. I had a pair of shoes that I only used on cases, so even my shoe print wouldn’t give away my identity.

  “If someone asks, you left me sitting with Mr. Spadros, and he left orders not to be disturbed.”

  “Yes, mum.” Amelia peeked into the hall. “No one out there.”

  I turned off the lamps, went into the hall and closed the door.

  We went through the upstairs storage room, then down the stair by the preparation room. Amelia peered out, then gestured to me. I slipped through the door and into the stables. Dodging the stable boys, I made it to the front of the house.

  The streets were wet and deserted. Soon I found a public taxi-carriage and was on my way to Market Center Plaza.

  * * *

  A large crowd milled about on the island, surrounding men and women hawking their wares. Butchers stood in their booths, cutting meat to sell the next day. Children sold sweets and hot chestnuts from trays round their necks. Cigar smoke and perfume wafted through the air.

  A large white canvas tent stood on the damp grass, the base of the canvas open to the air at about mid-thigh level. Rows of wooden folding chairs faced a dark wooden stage. There some already sat, some stood, but most milled about. A tired baby cried, and his mother comforted him. Thrace Pike and his compatriots spoke together near the front of the stage.

  A bell sounded and people began filling the seats. I took a seat near the back at the end of a row, clutching my dark brown handbag like any other lower-class widow.

  Air and I raced down the grimy, trash-strewn alleyways until we got a couple of blocks away from the cops, then leaned against a wall, laughing. We escaped them again.

  Snow glittered on the ruins of old Bridges: the bombed-out ‘scrapers and mansions, the fallen
statues, the broken fountains.

  Air surveyed the scene, his face full of wonder. “‘Tis near pretty, here at night.”

  I nodded. It would have been prettier if the quadrant-folk hadn’t destroyed it all. “Why they bomb it?”

  “Ma said people got mad,” Air said. “Rich men ate, they couldn’t.”

  I shook my head. People were so stupid. “What’s different between then and now?”

  Two to three hundred lower-class people almost filled the tent. A stout young woman wearing a gray dress which made her look like a man in a skirt went to the stage and began speaking about Mr. Pike.

  Mr. Pike’s father and grandfather were in law, but after his father died, he became a reporter. The woman left out the part where he was no longer employed.

  Mr. Pike appeared, to a smattering of applause. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out tonight to hear me speak. I hope to enlighten and inform you of the facts about the illegal drug called Party Time …”

  A man up front spoke, and laughter flowed around him.

  “I understand,” Mr. Pike continued, a bit louder, “that this drug has been used in Bridges for many generations and in the past was a part of normal social life. However, with the harmful effects that can occur —”

  A man a few rows down from me yelled, “— there ain’t no harm in it! You crazy do-gooders do more harm!”

  “… seizures, hallucinations, and even death from overdose …”

  An old woman across the room threw her hands in the air. “Garn! You’d have to drink a whole bottle to have all that happen!” Laughter broke out in several places in the tent.

  “… myself and others can’t stand by and watch our town brought to destruction by those who lord over us with one hand and drag us down with the other.”

  Voices began speaking out from all over:

  “Now, wait just a minute —” a man said.

  “You took away our socializing, now you’re going to take our Families too?” another man asked.

  “What will we eat when they’re gone?” A woman said. “You gonna give us jobs?”