The Ace of Clubs Read online

Madame Biltcliffe’s dress shop was on 42nd Street, with a lovely oak storefront and large beveled glass windows behind which stood perfectly coiffed and dressed mannequins.

  Today, though, the mannequins stood in odd spacing, as if recently moved and not checked. A hat-pin lay on the floor. The oak chair trimmed in brass which normally held a placard referencing her work for me was missing, and the window hastily cleaned. Bits of eggshell adorned the sidewalk.

  Madame, a handsome middle-aged woman with black hair, came outside as the Spadros Family carriage pulled up. Honor came round to help me from the carriage, and I thanked him, as I always do.

  Madame approached to greet me. “Welcome, Mrs. Spadros! Come inside.” She glanced over my shoulder.

  Honor smiled, tipping his hat. For the first time in memory, he was armed. He’d never gone armed before, not even when we went to visit other quadrants.

  What was going on here?

  “I’m so glad you could visit, my dear.” Madame ushered me inside, then locked the door, turning the sign on it to “Closed: entry by appointment only.”

  As it turned out, Madame Biltcliffe really did want to take tea with me; she had small cakes filled with jelly set out with the usual tea and toast. They were delicious.

  “I thought you might need time away from the home and servants,” she said, “but it is pleasant to know you better.”

  “I appreciate your help.”

  She waved it off. “It’s nothing. Long ago, I needed time to myself, so I have since then always been mindful of ways to help other women.” She smiled knowingly. “Perhaps some day I can be of aid in that way as well.”

  I laughed. A romance affair? I felt a stab of longing for Joseph Kerr. But was it fair to encourage his ardor? Was it right to put him in such danger?

  If only I had listened to Air, to my Ma ... Joe and I would be together now. None of the past ten years would have happened.

  “Your face shows regret,” Madame Biltcliffe said. “Never feel sorrow for what is no more.” She patted my hand. “Be happy for what is now.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out, feeling melancholy. “Tell me about yourself, Madame.”

  “Please, call me Marie.”

  “Of course.”

  “Ah, well,” Madame said, “there’s not much to tell. My husband was a ... you say ‘stodgy’ ... aristocrat in an equally stodgy town. I took time to myself,” she glanced aside with a sad, wistful smile, “yet that didn’t last as long as I liked. He discovered my secret, so I came here.”

  “And he hasn’t searched for you?”

  She laughed. “Oh, no. His only concern was that there be no scandal. I much prefer this town, and last I heard he has declared me dead and married a woman half his age.” She smiled. “I’m sure we are both happier.”

  “So do you enjoy your life here?”

  “Why yes. I enjoy my work, I meet many fine women, and from time to time I enjoy the company of those who intrigue me.” She smiled.

  At her smile, I blushed: her secret had nothing whatsoever to do with men. “I had no idea.” Indeed, I had no inclination, at least, not for Madame. She was beautiful, but as old as my Ma. I suppose up to then I had thought of her more as a mother.

  “Ah. I see,” she said, then smiled. “Never fear, ma cherie, we shall remain as dear friends.”

  I felt relieved. “That would make me quite happy; you’ve done me a great service over the years.” Then I felt chagrined. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long to know each other.” I paused, considering. “If I meet anyone who might wish to meet you, in whatever capacity, I’ll speak to you of it at once.”

  Madame Biltcliffe gave me a soft smile. “I’m sure that would be lovely.” She gazed to the side for a few moments as she sipped her tea. “I suppose you’ll want to borrow my dress.”

  “I’m astonished: everyone knows my mind today.” I wasn’t sure this was a good thing. Perhaps I had been at ease for so long I no longer knew how to keep my plans from my face.

  Madame Biltcliffe chuckled. “I only recall your concern for the boy ... the one whose mother was here last time. And it’s probably safer to wear mourning. But if you wish instead to converse further, or have more tea, or return home, it’s of no consequence.”

  I checked the clock: half past five. Should I leave so soon? “If it wouldn’t offend ...” I couldn’t see what harm it might do, and I might be of help to David and his mother. “I believe I might make a short trip to Bryce Fabrics after all.”

  Madame called out, “Tenni!”

  Tenni, a girl of seventeen, came in at once. “Yes, Madame?”

  “Clear these plates, then inform the servants of Mrs. Spadros that we will do some preliminary fittings for her Summer gown.”

  Tenni curtsied, the reddish-brown curls peeking out from under her shop maid’s cap bouncing as she left with the tray.

  Tenni and I looked similar from behind — the same hair, height, form, and light brown skin — so I often used her as a decoy when leaving Madame’s shop to go on my cases.

  When Tenni returned, I put on Madame’s mourning dress, adding my dark purple scarf, hat, and veil. Then Tenni put on my blue dress and fixed her hair. Once Tenni and Madame went into my private dressing room by way of the front room (so my men might believe I was still there), I left using Madame’s back entry.

  This was my first time behind Madame’s shop at this time of day. The alleyway was busier than usual, with men coming and going, deliveries being made and picked up. The men seemed familiar, although I didn’t recall them being here before.

  The streets were the same: unusually crowded, but by no one who seemed out of the ordinary. And no one followed me.

  After David Bryce’s kidnapping, men in brown began following me everywhere, often on orders from Frank Pagliacci. But few of these men wore brown (the color was going out of fashion as spring approached), and the ones who did walked past, paying me no mind whatsoever.

  In the taxi-carriage, I took a jasmine-flower from my handbag.

  “I want to travel the world,” said Nina.

  “I do too.”

  “We could take zeppelins to the seashore, then hire ourselves onto a steamship bound for Europe.”

  I gasped at the idea. “Could we really go round the world?”

  “Why not?” Nina put her plump freckled arm up as men do when they wrestle. “Let’s make a pact on it.”

  Overwhelmed, I cradled her face in my hands and kissed her. A brief hesitation, then her arm went round my shoulders as she kissed me.

  In that brief instant, I was happy as I’d never been before: she loved me too.

  Madame had taken an awful risk to speak as she did. She worked with women of high standing every day; with one word I was in position to ruin her should matters have turned badly.

  “Girls!” Mrs. Clubb pulled me and Nina apart. “This is not the way to behave! It’s time for Jacqui to go home.”

  I only saw Nina once more. To this day, I wish I hadn’t.

  At the time, I thought: What did they do to her? Was what happened to her because of me?

  The Excursion

  The taxi-carriage deposited me on a lonely, windblown street in front of a peeling white storefront.

  Acevedo Spadros II brought young Molly Hogan here to run a new grocery at the start of their own romance affair. I imagined times long past, when the streets raged with Family warfare.

  As I entered, the hinges squealed; a bell rang. Rows of low shelves displayed dusty out-of-date fabrics. The peeling gray-green paint did little to make the cold room appear any better. Across the room, a rickety counter stood in front of a doorway missing its door, the bare wall past it lit by an overcast sky.

  A woman with graying brown hair dressed in widow’s brown came into view. “May I help you?”

  I rushed over. “It’s me. Jacqui. How is he?”

  Eleanora Bryce sagged. “I’m glad I didn’t recognize you.” She came around the counter. “Come, it’
s not safe for you to be here.”

  I followed Mrs. Bryce through the doorway, surveying their tiny back room. “I hope you’re well?”

  “I got a good sale the beginning of the month. A pretty young thing, about your age with black hair. She must have had money: she bought all my gray cloth! Said it was for art. To think of it! Spending a whole quarter on art!”

  To my left, a boy sat on a bed, curled into a ball, rocking.

  David Bryce looked so much like Air that it hurt to see him. Pale skin, dark hair, dark eyes. But David’s eyes were lost, empty, as if he had seen things no child should ever see. Arms around his crossed legs, hands pressed upon his thin arms, he stared into nothing, and rocked.

  I sat beside him and lifted my veil. “Do you remember me? I brought you home.”

  His eyes never moved as he continued to rock.

  I turned to her. “Has there been any change? Has he spoken?

  Mrs. Bryce drew up the room’s lone stool and sat. There used to be three stools; where had the other two gone? A bed was missing, too. “He stopped sucking his thumb. He’ll walk to the toilet, and he'll drink broth. I suppose it’s an improvement.”

  “I must know if he speaks. If he identifies who took him —”

  Mrs. Bryce sounded numb. “Then what? What if that Diamond man did this to him? I’m a widow, and an outsider at that. Where would I get money for clothes to stand in court, a lawyer or a carriage to get there? And doesn’t his Family own the Prison, the courts? I might end up in a cell, or even dead.”

  I hadn’t considered any of this. The Diamond Family held the Prison. Jack Diamond was Keeper of the Prison. Which seemed odd: the man was reportedly both violent and insane. Prison must be a terrible place. “I have some money. Perhaps I could help.”

  Mrs. Bryce shook her head. “You’ve done too much already.”

  It didn’t feel that way.

  Her voice sounded hollow. “I never liked you as a child — you were too outspoken, too fierce. But Nicholas adored you —”

  Grief tore through my chest. Air’s real name was Nicholas, and he was Eleanora’s eldest son, before I got him killed.

  “— and I blamed you for his death, even though you were just a child yourself. I’m sorry.”

  Air told me not to go. He begged me to go home. He only went because I did, to protect me. And I should never have been there. I should’ve stayed in bed as Ma asked. She told me not to have anything to do with Peedro Sluff. But I wouldn’t listen. “You’re right to blame me.”

  “No, mum, I wasn’t.” She placed her hand on mine. “You didn’t pull the trigger. You were just a little girl. My boy was out at night getting killed and I didn’t even know. I was working —”

  She was doing what women did in the Pot: selling her body.

  “— and I shouldn’t have been. Their father was coming for us — he even sent money so I could get Nicky’s medicine —”

  Shock lanced through me. I went to the corner of Shill and Snow that night because Peedro Sluff told me he’d give me a dollar. I wanted the dollar to get Air his medicine, because he was coughing up blood and the doctor wanted money.

  Was everything that happened that night for nothing?

  Mrs. Bryce stared at her hands. “But I didn’t believe he would bring us out. He’d promised to for so long that I gave up hope. Why would some rich outsider spend all his money on me?” She hung her head. “If anyone other than that wretched Peedro Sluff was to blame, it would be me.”

  I wondered what she’d say if she knew Peedro was my father.

  “You did what we all wanted,” Mrs. Bryce said. “The whole city dreams of getting into a Family. You got to the very top. Don’t throw it away on account of us. We’ll survive.” She leaned over to peer in my eyes. “You brought him home. That’s all you said you’d do. You don’t have to do any more.”

  You’re wrong. I have to. “They did it on my account, Ell.”

  Mrs. Bryce sat straighter, eyes widening in alarm.

  “The scoundrel in brown said so.” I gripped David’s mattress with both hands, tighter and tighter. “He killed Herbert. He ruined David. He’s tried to destroy your family for no other reason but to lure me.” Pain lanced through my left ring finger as the nail gave way. “I’m not stopping until I kill him.”

  The clock tower struck six. I had to leave. I pressed my nail to staunch the spreading wetness, grateful Madame’s gloves were black. “What do you need? Can I bring something next time?”

  Mrs Bryce shrugged.

  I pulled out a dollar, but she held up her hand in front of her as if to push it away. “No, mum — no. That’s too much. If I showed up with a whole dollar people’d think I was running Party Time for sure.” Her eyes followed it. “Do you have anything smaller?”

  I opened my coin purse, giving her all but one of my pennies (I needed that for the taxi), and all my nickels and dimes. It was less than a dollar, but perhaps it would help.

  She burst into tears.

  “Thank you so much,” she sobbed. “I only made the one fabric sale this whole month. I even had to sell the frame around Herbert’s portrait for food and rent. I didn’t know how I was going to pay Family fees. This is enough for some new fabric.”

  Our Family was such a burden to these people. Did Tony even know?

  David still rocked.

  I rested my hand on his shoulder. “It looks bad now, David, but it’ll get better. When you want to tell me who did this so I can go kill him, you just tell your Ma. Okay?”

  David hesitated, just an instant.

  The look in his eyes ...

  What had his kidnappers done to him?

  But then he began rocking again.

  Mrs. Bryce rose. “Stay here. I’ll make sure the taxi’s ready. You mustn’t linger outside.”

  “Why not? What’s going on?”

  “People are saying the Families have to go. That even the gangs are better than paying Family fees every month. That they ruined the merchants and blew up the zeppelin.”

  “What?”

  She nodded. “So you don’t want to be seen round here.”

  In more ways than one. She and David might be in danger.

  Mrs. Bryce patted my arm. “We’ll be fine. You did enough.”

  On the way to Madame’s, I considered Eleanora’s words.

  Something was very wrong.

  Why should anyone blame the Families for the disaster?

  But Family fees were resented enough that any reason might make the poor wish to be rid of them. That Thrace Pike dared to produce his editorial in January was all the evidence needed.

  Few people paid mind to the true Red Dog gang when they threw rocks at storefronts “to get rid of the Families.” And I had considered Thrace Pike’s editorial and pamphlet dealt with, especially after he was outed as a Bridger. But now people on the street called for the Families to go?

  The situation was much worse than I thought.

  But today, at least, had gone well. I helped Mrs. Bryce, and David seemed improved (if ever so slightly). I could probably get another three excursions to Madame’s shop from this Summer dress, then it would be time for my Fall fittings.

  Now that I wasn’t being watched so closely, I should finally be able to make a proper investigation into Marja’s death.

  * * *

  A line of carriages sat outside Madame’s shop. So I got out ten yards up, in the entrance to the alley. Shadow covered the sidewalks and buildings. People bustled about.

  A boy of eleven stood on the tree-lined sidewalk in front of a portrait studio, peering towards Madame’s shop. He looked familiar. “Aren’t you the Memory Boy’s brother?”

  He nodded.

  I gestured towards Madame’s place. “What’s going on?”

  He shrugged. “A lot of men went in. I’m not sure which shop.” He stood on tiptoe for a moment. “Can’t see from here.”

  Men? That ruled out Madame’s place: what reason would men have
to go in a dress shop? A watchmaker’s shop lay just past hers; the men probably went there. “It was good to see you.”

  I went up the alley, then turned left to stroll behind the shops. Even the alleyways were busy: shopkeepers and maids, trash-takers and children. But no one paid me mind as I went to Madame’s back door and let myself in.

  The hall was silent.

  Normally, Tenni rushed to greet me, eager to put on her own clothes. At the time, I thought she didn’t hear me come inside.

  I raised my veil, went to my private dressing room’s back curtain, and opened it.

  Madame and Tenni sat on wooden chairs facing each other. Madame looked angry; Tenni’s brown eyes were wide with terror.

  Two men leaned against the walls.

  “Hello, Jacqui,” said Tony.

  The Interrogation

  Sawbuck stood behind me; I ran right into him. “I’m sorry, mum,” he said. “But I did warn you what might happen.”

  I turned towards Tony and his cousin Blitz. The two didn’t appear alike except for their smiles, but neither were smiling now.

  “Mrs. Spadros, I came to see you,” Tony said, “but instead, I find this girl wearing your dress. Who’s this girl? Why’s she wearing your dress?”

  Madame said, “I told you, Monsieur Spadros. This is Tenni; she’s under my protection. An orphan. I made this dress for her.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Madame. Don’t you think I know my own wife’s clothing?” Tony grabbed Tenni’s arm, jerking her to her feet. “This ripped at the waist when my wife and I lay together before her maid undressed her — a maid who raised me.” He let go of Tenni, who slumped into her seat. “Don’t you think I know the stitching of a woman who sewed with me at her side when I was a boy?” He pointed towards the floor. “I spilled red wine on the hem after dinner. This stain and the one on the carpet in my library never came out. This is my wife’s dress, and a stranger wears it.”

  He took a few steps along the curtained entryway. “But that’s not the worst of it. My wife, Madame, wears your dress. I remember it from the memorial. Why’s she wearing your dress? Where’s she gone? I depended on you to be her protector.”