The Jacq of Spades Read online

  Picking up my spyglass, I climbed into the carriage and examined the cushions. Several hairs lay there: brown straight hair and black hair; but not black and curled, as one might expect from a Diamond, but black and straight. Could these be David’s? I took out a second envelope and put the hairs into it.

  “I see a tabby cat.”

  “I only see cushions. You’re ahead!”

  A gray string lay on the floor of the carriage; I put it into the envelope with the hairs. Then I lifted the cushions, finding a penny but nothing more.

  I walked to the driver’s area. A button lay on the floor of the foot rest: wooden, carved with an eagle’s head, a wisp of brown thread attached to it. I put the button and thread into the envelope with the hairs.

  “A boy is walking far off by the trees,” Katherine said.

  The mechanisms underneath the carriage were marvelous: springs and gears which made the ride perfectly smooth. They reminded me a bit of the mechanisms under the rusting steam automobiles back home. Air loved to look at them.

  I scanned the ground around the carriage, but found nothing. “You win!” I folded the envelopes and the magnification spyglass and returned them to my handbag.

  “You didn’t find the locket?”

  I acted dejected. “I don’t see it anywhere.”

  “Let me look.” She climbed all around. “I don’t see it either.”

  “I bet she dropped it before we got in the carriage. I guess I’ll have to go look there.” I smiled. “Come, I’ll get you a sugarplum.”

  The Encounter

  As it turned out, Katherine’s treat cost a penny, and we parted ways, with another warning not to tell. She was so excited with our secret fun I thought she would either blurt out the whole affair or never tell a soul.

  Molly would see my being here as an escape. Roy would love the idea of insulting the Harts in this way. I would know whether Katherine was trustworthy.

  Perhaps I was beginning to think like Roy after all. I wasn’t sure if this was a good development.

  I walked around the Plaza until I reached a storefront, with words engraved upon the front window in gold:

  Anna’s Medicaments

  Potions, Medicines, And Salves Of All Sorts

  Supply To Hospitals And Clinics Our Specialty

  Anna Goren: an apothecary, the woman who packaged and sent my morning tea after it was formulated and sent to her. She supplied the physicians on Market Center and much of Bridges.

  Anna had brown skin and long brown hair which curled every which way, piled on top of her head in an untidy bundle. She wore a purple linen dress covered by a white cotton apron, and fussed about a room full of bottles, jars, and beakers, which were in turn full of pills, powders, and potions of all sorts.

  She glanced up when I entered. “Mum Spadros! So good to see you! How can I help?”

  “Would you look at these?”

  “I’m ready to close for luncheon anyway.” She shut the door, locked it, and turned the sign to “closed.” Then we went to her back room, which was mostly taken up with testing equipment. Copper pipes with brass fittings came down the walls, leading to larger copper and glass cylinders with various labels. “Whatcha got for me, dearie?”

  I took out the envelope with the powder in it and put the closed envelope in her hand. “If you could tell me what this is, I would be most grateful.”

  She opened the envelope, peered into it, smelled the contents, then set up a row of glass tubes in a pine and brass holder, putting a bit of the powder into each. She held up what appeared to be a lorgnette-style opera-glass. The handle and frame was brass, and it had large black lenses. “Shield your eyes.”

  I did so.

  Then she dropped a match into the first tube. A flash of white light and a familiar smell wafted forth. “Just as I thought,” Anna said. “Party Time.”

  * * *

  I ate luncheon with Anna at a small table in her back room as she did one test after another. She sat for a moment, took a bite of her sandwich, then said, “Oh!” with her mouth full, jumping up to do another test.

  I laughed. “You are like a Jack-in-the-box.”

  “When I think of something, I must investigate! How else will I know?”

  Anna helped me more than once with strange substances I found while on cases, never asking for a cent. Her payment was to know, and to understand.

  “I have it!” She flopped into her chair, a curl of her hair coming out of its bundle to fall beside her face. “This particular Party Time,” she took a drink of her tea, “is the sort found in a factory, before it is cut and sent to the distributors. The Party Time itself is pure!”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, unadulterated by any chemical normally used before distribution. However, it contains wood chips. Party Time in bulk is often stored in barrels; I imagine that the barrel broke, and shards of wood got into the mix. Where did you find this?”

  “On the floorboards of a stolen carriage.”

  “Ah,” Anna said, as if that made everything clear. “Dirt and shoe-polish and carpet-fiber mixed in. Now I understand!”

  “Would you test these as well?” I opened my second envelope and handed her the threads. She snipped a tiny piece from each and lit them afire, then handed the larger portions back to me.

  “The gray is wool; the brown is cotton. Both from a man’s jacket, if I’m not mistaken. A seamstress could tell you more.”

  “You’re wonderful, Anna.” I planned to leave then, but recalled the Inventor’s words.

  “Is something wrong?”

  She wasn’t an Inventor, nor did she ever work on the Magma Steam Generator that I knew of. But if anyone could find the solution to this, Anna could. “I have a problem that perhaps you might have some insight into.” I explained to her the issue with the pilings and the Magma Steam Generator, as best I knew how.

  I had never seen her frown before. “This is a serious problem. I will consider it carefully.”

  “Why is it so serious? Can we not just use candles? Cut trees for warmth?”

  “Oh, my dear girl,” she said, “lights and heat are the least worry. This is no natural city; the whole of it is a construct, a mechanism. Its entirety, from the aperture to the river, runs on power. Life would be most unpleasant without it.”

  I had no idea. “Can you help?”

  “I don’t know, dearie, but I will try my best.”

  “Thank you for everything.” I glanced at her clock. “I must go. I told Mr. Spadros I would be back for tea.”

  Anna smiled. “Ah, yes, the husband. How happy that I was never burdened with one!” She came over, took my face in her hands, and kissed my forehead, as she always did. “Off you go, my dear. Have a lovely evening.”

  I felt pleased for more than one reason. The Diamond Family had only one Party Time factory, disguised as a shoe polish factory. This must be where they held David. The factory did make shoe polish, but only to hide the barrels of Party Time behind in case the Feds came snooping.

  Some zeppelins carrying Agents had unfortunate accidents, one involving a surface-to-air missile. Now the Feds seemed to be afraid to enter the city. Even though Party Time was illegal, the courts were mostly bought, and half the police were on it themselves, so not even they wanted the Feds around. If it weren’t for the Bridgers — and of course, the Families — Party Time wouldn’t be illegal at all.

  I tried Party Time once — it felt a bit like being drunk, without having to down a few bottles to get there. Despite its frivolous name, Party Time made the Spadros Family a fortune: production, distribution, and marketing of Party Time in the Spadros quadrant was at an all-time high. Tony’s father Roy planned to expand our territory outside the boundaries of Bridges itself.

  But the Diamonds didn’t make much Party Time themselves. Since they controlled the prison, they preferred to push for harsh sentencing of those hapless souls caught with Party Time and without a big enough bribe (or good enough Family conne
ctions) to escape. Then they charged the prisoner’s quadrant a fortune for care and upkeep. It was a sweet set-up.

  A ball came across my path, and a small boy ran to fetch it. I squatted to pick the ball up. “Here you are.”

  A young woman with light brown skin and blonde curls came up.” Tell the nice lady thank you, Master Roland.”

  “Thank you.” The boy was exquisite: brown skin, black eyes, black ringlet curls, a beautiful smile. He reminded me of someone.

  “You’re welcome.” I smiled. “He’s beautiful.”

  The woman beamed. “And such a good child, too.”

  This must be his nanny. I stood and put out my hand. “Jacqueline Spadros.”

  She took my hand and curtsied. “Octavia Diamond, mum, so nice to meet you.” She beckoned to the boy. “Come along, Master Roland, it’s time to go home. Let’s see if Miss Bessie has had her calf yet.”

  “Hurray!” The little one skipped along beside her, and they held hands as they went.

  * * *

  On the way home, I stopped at Madame Biltcliffe’s dress shop. Several well-dressed women browsed the wares, none of whom I recognized. Madame was returning a roll of cloth to its rack when I entered. She glanced up, surprise on her face. “Mrs. Spadros —!”

  The women turned to me and curtsied.

  “— How can I help you?”

  I smiled. “I stopped by to ask about some cloth I saw in another shop. I would love a dress made of it.”

  The other women turned back to their browsing. Madame came over and took my arm. “Wonderful! Come to my office.”

  We went to her office, and she took a ring of keys from her waistband and unlocked it. Her office smelled freshly painted, and the window was new. She must have noticed my puzzlement. “Ah!” She put her hand to her forehead. “I am forgetting to tell you. Never have so many customers been here! Before the New Year, someone broke the window and came in.”

  “What?”

  She nodded, closing the door. “The place, it was a mess!”

  “Was anything missing?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “Did you contact the police?”

  She laughed. “I have been in Bridges long enough to know those results. Scandal for you, and policeman after policeman asking for money ‘to speed investigations.’” She shook her head with a smile. “The window had a crack; it needed changing. So it’s done, with less bother.”

  I showed her the threads and button. “Yes, your friend is right, from a man’s jacket. I would say, hmm, five years old? This button company no longer does business.”

  Ah. Interesting. I took up the items and went to the door, opening it. “Thank you, Madame, you’ve been very helpful!”

  “A pleasure, Mrs. Spadros. I’ll order the cloth for you at once.”

  Clever woman, indeed.

  During the taxi-carriage ride home, I thought about the button. I should have asked Madame what company made it. But a jacket maker who wished to economize, with clientele on a limited budget, might use older buttons for quite some time. I would have to investigate this later.

  Why would someone break into Madame’s office, then take nothing? I wasn’t sure what information of value she might have there. Measurements?

  Yet another item which made no sense. I put it aside.

  I exited the taxi-carriage a few blocks away from home so no one would see I didn’t arrive in a Hart carriage, and considered my plan as I walked.

  I needed to learn the precise location of the Diamond Party Time factory, then obtain a set of blueprints. This meant a trip to the Records Hall on Market Center. The most difficult part would be to learn whether David still remained at the factory.

  But that could wait for later.

  I joined Tony in his study for tea.

  He seemed anxious. “How was your luncheon?”

  “Wonderful!” I remembered my time with Anna. “I had a lovely time.”

  “I’m so glad.” Tony sounded relieved.

  “Did your day go well?”

  “Quite. The quarterly reports were ready. We took in over $3,000 during Yuletide.”

  I stared at him in shock, remembering the night long ago where I was captured for the promise of a dollar.

  Damn my father — I never did get that dollar.

  “I felt surprised myself. But I suppose all those pennies at the roulette tables and slot machines add up.”

  Why would anyone throw their money at the slim chance to win more? It seemed a foolish luxury.

  “You seem distracted,” Tony said.

  Hmm. What to tell him … “I heard an unusual name today. Have you ever heard of a gentleman named Frank Pagliacci?”

  Tony shook his head. “Doesn’t sound familiar. Could be one of the new families over in the Clubb quadrant. I read in the newspaper the other day about the trials of people who move to Bridges from other cities.”

  The article seemed frivolous, but Tony enjoyed such things, especially involving the upper classes. “Is it so different there?”

  Tony shrugged. “Depends on the city. Customs are different, wherever you go.”

  Mrs. Bryce spoke of debtors’ prison. Depending on who you owed, you might be shot, but thrown into prison? It seemed a poor way to get your money back.

  “Perhaps you might not like to answer right away, having just returned, but I’d like to visit City Hall.”

  I almost laughed. The Records Hall, exactly where I needed to go, was next door to City Hall.

  “We’re going to remodel the casino, and I need to speak with the officials there.” He paused for several seconds then shook his head. “No, I should never have asked … it will take much of the day … and will be much too tedious …”

  “No! I would love to go.”

  Tony seemed surprised. “I had no idea you enjoyed the place.”

  Those offices were dreary, but this was a perfect opportunity to find the blueprints to the Diamond Party Time factory.

  Thinking of the Diamonds reminded me of the article about the new regulation, and I mentioned it to Tony.

  “I hadn’t noticed it. The Diamonds must be very pleased.”

  I chuckled. “My thoughts exactly. But what an opportunity to win the favor of our people. “

  “What do you mean?”

  “Pay the fines for anyone caught up in this law. This will encourage them to tell us of any police harassment, and make them love us more.”

  Tony beamed at me. “I have such a brilliant wife. I’ll have the men pass the word.”

  Doubtless leaving out that it was my idea, but no matter. In that, I was like Anna. I delighted in having worthwhile ideas more than receiving praise for them. “If we’re lucky, the other Families won’t consider this for a while. We might even gain ground.”

  Tony became quite excited at that prospect, and took out paper and pen, making notes there at the table on how to make best use of this scheme.

  Almost as if this whole thing were a game.

  At least it was better to win ground by making the people love us than by violence in the streets.

  “When did you plan to visit City Hall?”

  Tony put his pen down and sighed. “I got word right before you arrived. The Clubbs have put a carriage-search on everyone going in and out of their quadrant.”

  I stared at him in shock. “What?”

  He nodded. “So of course, all the other families are doing the same, and putting watchers on the river, in case this is a ploy to distract us from a Clubb attack. The lines going into and out of Market Center will be horrendous.”

  “Whatever could have caused them to do that?”

  Tony shook his head. “The Clubbs are secretive. It could be their granddaughter Calcutta running off again, for all we know.”

  I doubted that. The look on Regina Clubb’s face when she saw me … “Well, I have nothing planned tomorrow.”

  “We should leave as early in the day as possible, after morning meeting, perh
aps, and have luncheon on Market.”

  The next day, after a long wait to cross the bridge to Market Center, we reached City Hall. Tony told the coachmen to stay on the island and gave them leave to visit the tavern. “You may put your drinks and luncheon on our tab.”

  I glanced back as we went to the building steps, and Honor tipped his hat. I felt touched by his thanks.

  Tony didn’t look back once.

  Gardena was right. I wasn’t a Spadros, not really.

  Tony reached into his breast pocket, retrieving a long list of what he needed and who he must see today. I felt certain I could find what I needed while he was occupied.

  The Hall had white walls with thick, dark wood borders around each of its equally dark doors. A floor of black tile led to a set of black wooden stairs with black banisters, edged in brass. We climbed to the fourth floor, and went to a door marked, “Permits.”

  I turned to Tony. “I’d like to view the paintings here and in the Records Hall while you’re engaged. Shall we meet in front?”

  “Certainly. In an hour, for luncheon?”

  Was it noon already? As if in answer, the clock tower began its chiming. I nodded.

  I waited until he went inside. I then descended four flights of stairs, hurried outside, and walked over to the Records Hall. On the inside it looked identical to City Hall.

  The map room on the second floor held an ancient brown-skinned man with white-glazed eyes behind a black marble slab desk. “May I help you, miss?” A three-year-old boy played with dolls on the floor in the corner.

  “I’d like to see a map of the city.” I pitched my voice like that of a young girl’s and attempted Mrs. Bryce’s accent. If the old man thought I was young, he might let me see more.

  “Come, come this way.” We went down a long hall to an archway. The huge room beyond was full of brown wooden bookshelves. He crossed to the bookshelves, then turned left.

  He shuffled along with his right hand on the bookshelves until we came to an oak table with a huge book on it. The book was bound in dark green leather, which was cracked at the spine. Across from this table sat a small-scale map of the entire city.

  This map sat on a round table six feet wide, with a domed dust cover. The populated area was the size of a dinner plate; the rivers, the width of pencils; the island, a penny in the center. “Maps of the whole city. What quadrant are you from?”