The Queen of Diamonds Read online

His head jerked up. "You wrong me, mum. I love the boy —" He stopped, as if he almost said too much.

  What was he going to say?

  Concern washed away my anger, as I came round the desk. "I only want to help him. He doesn't have to go if he doesn't want to. But give him a chance to live in peace. Whatever's going on, surely he deserves that."

  Peter nodded, eyes on the floor. "Thank you, mum."

  "I'm sorry for what happened to Amelia. I never —"

  He gave me a brief, startled glance, then nodded. "All is forgiven, mum," he said quickly. "I have work to tend to."

  "Very well, you may go."

  What did he think I meant? What else happened to her? What was going on?

  Tony didn't get home until time to dress for dinner. He ate silently, shoulders slumped, and went to his study straight after. I sat smoking and sipping wine as the maids cleared the table.

  I needed a post box like Frank Pagliacci had so I might send letters without anyone knowing from whence they came.

  I chuckled at the thought; if it weren't for that vile man, I wouldn't need to sneak around like this.

  I must warn the stable-man of the danger he was in. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't warn him and something happened to the man. Yet I couldn't let anyone know I sent the message. What would Mrs. Jacqueline Spadros know about plots and murder?

  Jane Pearson came into the dining room. "Oh, there you are, mum." She came up to me and curtsied.

  "Please sit," I said, and she did.

  "I've chosen my replacement, mum. Anne should do well."

  "A very good choice, thank you."

  "My pleasure, mum. Did you decide about the outing?"

  I still had Anastasia's list to take care of; planning an outing for several dozen people would take time. I hadn't even thought of where to have it. "After the 100th celebration, perhaps? One major event a month is plenty."

  Jane smiled. "Yes, mum, I agree."

  I studied Jane. She took care of the house; she would know everything that went on in it, including what happened to Amelia. Pearson and Peter also knew. But Roy forbade them from talking about it. "I'm sure your husband told you I wish to move Pip to the men's quarters."

  Jane glanced away. "Yes, mum."

  "Do you think it a good thing?"

  She shifted uncomfortably. "It's not for me to say, mum."

  "But —"

  She sat stiffly, face pale, not looking at me. "Under the circumstances, mum, it seems a wise decision."

  Under the circumstances. "Thank you." Jane didn't move. "Is there anything else?"

  "No, mum." She pushed back her chair and hurried out.

  Interesting, but not in a good way. I drained my glass and put out my cigarette. Then I went to Tony's study and knocked.

  "Yes?" Tony sat behind his desk, a book in one hand, his forehead leaning on the other as he looked up at me. "Did you need something?"

  "I don't mean to disturb you; I just wanted to make sure you were well." I never knew how he would react when he retreated into his study like this, so I stayed in the doorway.

  But he gave me a tired smile and put his book down. "It's time we went to bed." He came round to take my hand.

  "You look weary," I said as we went up the stairs. "Would you like me to rub your back?"

  "That sounds wonderful."

  Perhaps I could learn what troubled him.

  When we got to our rooms, we separated to let our servants undress us. If Amelia was angry at my threats earlier, she gave no sign of it.

  It seemed odd to have a maid dress and undress you, but Molly told me the system of service allowed people to have an income. If we all dressed ourselves and did our own washing, what would they do to survive? At the time it made sense, but the more I saw of it the less I liked it.

  Once I was in my gown, Amelia curtsied and left. Tony came back in wearing his pajamas. He smiled, and came over to kiss me. "Now, what were we discussing?"

  "I was going to rub your back."

  "Yes," he said. He took off his shirt, then lay face down on the bed. I knelt on the bed beside him and began to rub his back.

  When I was a little girl, long before I got tangled up with the Spadros Family, Ma taught me how to rub a man's back to get him to tell you his problems. "If we were in the Clubb Pot, we'd be selling their secrets, but it's better here," she said. "They know the Dealers' Daughters won't speak of their troubles to others."

  At the time I thought the Clubbs must be wicked to tell someone else's secrets. Now the idea of betraying someone like that just made me sad.

  "How did your day go?"

  "Mmm," Tony said, "well enough. I never thought this would take so long."

  "I'm sorry it's taking so long. Have you run across problems?"

  He snorted. "Oh, yes, indeed, all day long it seems. When I go to do one thing, they find three more for me. One wall has bees in it, another termites, so both must be replaced. They can't find the material I wanted in black, because it's all been bought. So we had to find another supplier, who wants to import it from Chicago. Which means I have to fill out yet another form." He sighed, relaxing into the cushions. "I wish I'd never begun this."

  "My poor dear." I kissed his forehead, brushing his hair away from his face. "Just think of how beautiful it'll be once it's done."

  He rolled onto his side. "Come here." He took me into his arms. "You always try to help me." Then he paused. "Even when I don't deserve it."

  "Tony ... I want to say something." I hoped he could hear it. "I have eyes. I know you love Gardena. It's okay. I'm not angry, or hurt, or upset. We can't help who we love —"

  "Shh," he said. "I love you. I married you. I don't want to talk about her."

  I lay my head on his arm and put my hand beside his face, gazing into his eyes. I had so many questions that he didn't want to answer. And then he kissed me.

  A pang of bitter disappointment: all I wanted was for him to talk to me. I closed my eyes, enduring his touch, and went in search of Joe.

  "NO!" Tony screamed.

  Our night footman Blitz rushed in, candle in one hand, the other on his holster. Then he peered at us. "Are you well, sir?"

  Tony sat upright in bed, eyes wild. He glanced around, then crumpled, hand to his forehead. "Gods, what a terrible dream."

  I sat up. "We're fine, Blitz, thank you." Once he left, I said to Tony, "come here," and I laid his head upon my chest. "What did you dream?"

  He didn't speak for several seconds. "I dreamed you were gone." He paused. "I dreamed you left me. You lay there, cold and still, and it was my fault."

  I closed my eyes, feeling sad. "Shh ... I'm here. All is well."

  He wrapped his arms around my waist. "You're all I have," he said, his voice sleepy. "Please don't leave me."

  Was he awake, or asleep? I never heard him say such things before. "I'm here, Tony ... all is well ... just rest." I held him tightly, tears in my eyes as I smoothed his hair.

  When Joe was well, if he really wanted to leave with me ... what should I do?

  "Jacqui? Please love me."

  My heart stopped within me for a moment. What was he asking? I had never lied to him in this area: I never once told him I loved him. What should I say?

  But his face grew peaceful; he was asleep.

  ***

  Madame Biltcliffe owned a dress shop on 42nd street in Spadros quadrant. Her shop had a polished oak storefront and large plate glass windows. Inside, it smelled of fresh, clean cloth, and felt warm and inviting.

  Madame, a handsome woman of middle age with perfect black hair, came to greet me as I entered. "Mrs. Spadros! So good to see you." She locked the door behind me, turning the front placard to, "Closed: entry by appointment only."

  My personal fitting room was ten feet square, with a door-sized curtained opening in the far wall. A small raised area in the center to stand on, and mirrored walls completed the scene. Mrs. Bryce sat in the corner on a stool, standing when I entered.<
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  Eleanora Bryce had graying brown hair and dark eyes, and wore widow's brown. Once the curtain fell behind me, she said, "The man in white came round again."

  I stared at her, shocked. Mrs. Bryce lived in the Spadros slums, just outside the Pot. How had Jack Diamond managed to get there without alerting the guards? "What happened?"

  She sat on the stool, and Madame gestured for me to take my place on the raised area, so I did.

  Mrs. Bryce seemed hesitant. "I didn't know what else to do. After you brought David home, I needed help, so I asked a neighbor to watch him. She was appalled at his condition and asked what happened. I told her as little as I could, but word got out, and the men have been watching for strangers. When they saw him, they chased him away with bricks. They say one hit him, but I didn't see it."

  "You did the right thing."

  Madame brought in a basket filled with scissors, thread, measuring tapes, and so on. Behind her was her shop maid Tenni.

  Tenni, a girl of seventeen, looked like me from behind: light brown skin, curly reddish-brown hair. I sometimes switched clothes with her when on cases, so as to lead my men to believe I remained in the shop. Her eyes were brown and mine blue, but from a distance we looked similar. A shop maid's uniform made a fair disguise for me, as no one would expect Mrs. Jacqueline Spadros to dress in such a way.

  "Would you step out so Mrs. Spadros can change, please?" Madame said to Mrs. Bryce.

  Mrs. Bryce nodded and went into the main store, letting the curtain fall behind her.

  Tenni helped me change out of my dress and into the green silk shantung gown. It was a lovely, serviceable dress, with black cording and embroidery upon the front bodice and waist, extending to the floor. The embroidery curved in such a way as to give the illusion that my waist was quite small. I found that part both intriguing and amusing. "I love it!"

  Madame's reflection smiled from behind me as she arranged my skirts. "I'm glad it pleases you." She glanced up. "Mrs. Bryce, you may return if you wish."

  Eleanora resumed her seat in the corner. She appeared awed and a bit disturbed. "I never —" She took a deep breath. "One day we must speak of how you came to be here."

  Before her son David disappeared, Eleanora knew me only as a dirty, half-starved girl in the Pot. The contrast must have been remarkable. I glanced at Madame and Tenni, remembering the servants' faces at my story on Queen's Night. "It's a long tale, not suitable for gentle folk."

  Mrs. Bryce stood. "Then it can wait. I don't dare leave David for long."

  "I must tell you one thing more. The man we saw with him," I glanced at Tenni, who knelt in front of me, pinning my hem, "the one in brown. He still lives. Tell your neighbors of him as well."

  Mrs. Bryce's eyes widened. "Thank you."

  "And please give my regards to your son. I will visit the moment I'm able."

  She curtsied. "I will." She left through the back curtain; the back door opened and shut.

  "Madame, I hope this is not too distressing, but would you tell me again of the break-in?"

  Madame glanced up at my reflection from where she knelt behind me. "It was during Yuletide, a few days before New Year's. Mr. Roman across the street sent his shop maid to my home in the morning with the news."

  I frowned. "Mr. Roman?" The name seemed familiar.

  "Yes, the jeweler."

  Ah, a name from the list. "Did either of them see anything?"

  "He noticed the broken glass when he came to open the shop. The girl never saw a thing." Madame Biltcliffe worked in silence for a few minutes. "But there was one thing odd." She paused. "It may be nothing ..."

  Something about the way she said it made me uneasy. "What? Any detail may help."

  "Well," Madame said, "there was a card, as one might use for calling, with a dog stamped on it in red. I had never seen such a thing before."

  The Red Dog Gang.

  I found that same stamp on the wall outside David Bryce's back stair after he disappeared. A card with the same stamp was left on my front steps. Red Dog stamps and cards had appeared at the scene of petty crimes throughout the Clubb quadrant shop district for weeks now. And the police found a Red Dog card on Herbert Bryce's body after he was strangled to death.

  Madame said, "What does it mean?"

  I said, "I've seen this stamp before. I'm not certain of all the meanings this stamp might have. But it seems to be connected with a street gang called the Red Dogs." The Red Dog members I had met so far vigorously denied responsibility for the crimes, horrified at being framed for murder and kidnapping.

  "A street gang? Why would children wish to break into my shop, ruin the room, then take nothing?" She paused, gazing to the side. "I had forgotten to go to the bank that evening; I had my whole day's take in the cabinet. It was still in the bag, untouched."

  These were not the actions of a street gang. "Madame, what's in that room? What do you keep there?"

  She sat back on her heels. "It's my office and where I store papers. Extra receipt books, writing paper, ink." A line appeared between her perfect black brows. "Invoices. Files. Measurements. I keep a folder on each woman so I may begin work as soon as I get the order. She shook her head. "I don't know what they wanted."

  "Were the files touched?"

  "Everything was scattered," she said. "It was as if they wished to create as much chaos as possible. Thank the Dealer they didn't open the ink! As it was, it took us hours to put it right."

  "And was every page accounted for? Nothing's missing?"

  She shrugged. "As far as I know. I would have to go over my ledgers to make sure all the invoices remain there, and check each woman's files to be sure."

  Frank Pagliacci's kidnapping of David was personal. His mad boasts when he thought he had me, Morton, and David trapped only confirmed it. "Check mine first. If you find anything missing, even the smallest scrap, notify me at once. It could be important."

  She nodded, then began measuring the distance from my hem to the floor at different points. "I learned more about that button of yours."

  "Oh! Wonderful! What did you learn?"

  "The buttons are carved by hand. Only twenty were made."

  This was good news indeed. "And what jackets were made with them?"

  "That I don't know. But when we are finished here, I'll give you what I have."

  "Madame, when will my dress be ready?"

  She smiled. "I can finish it tonight. You may fetch it whenever is convenient. I imagine you'll want it for the Celebration, no?"

  I would rather go to the Fire than to a celebration of the destruction of the Pot. But Madame had worked hard on my dress, so I said, "You've done a splendid job. It will be the best gown there."

  Madame gave me a paper with her notes about the button, and I gave her the letter to mail to the stable-man on Market Center. As I returned to Spadros Manor, I considered the break-in.

  The break-in at Madame's shop was the key. No one would break into a dress shop office unless they wanted information on a customer. From all the evidence, it was likely the customer was me. The kidnappings, the ambush on Tony, and the theft of our Party Time shipment were all distractions. Perhaps even the murders of those boys were distractions as well. Their purpose was to keep me from investigating the break-in until Jack Diamond and Frank Pagliacci could put their real plan into place.

  What did Madame's shop have?

  My measurements, the writing paper, records of Madame's transactions with Tony.

  Invoices with his signature.

  The forged note on New Year's Eve took on new meaning.

  Well, their plan worked.

  It galled me; I had been so blind.

  I wanted to visit David, but there was nothing else to do.

  I must tell Tony of the break-in at once.

  The Distraction

  When I returned to the Manor, I asked Pearson, "Is Mr. Spadros home?"

  "Yes, mum, he's in his study. He asked to take tea there."

  I went pa
st Pearson to Tony's study and knocked.

  "Come in." Tony sat behind his desk, surprise on his face. I must have looked peculiar, still dressed for the street as I was. "I hope your appointment went well?"

  I sat across from him. "Madame Biltcliffe's dress shop office window was broken a few days before New Year's Eve, and —"

  Tony sat forward. "What?"

  "Yes. The room was ransacked. I believe they were after my files. Invoices bearing your signature."

  Tony stared at me for a full twenty seconds, the little color he normally possessed draining from his face. "This explains something. I went to my father's home, asking what he thought I could have done differently."

  I felt impressed. "It must have been difficult to do."

  Tony shrugged. "I'm glad I did. He said something which made no sense, so I asked what he meant. He showed me a letter, in my hand, with my signature, yet I didn't write it. In it were wild tales of torturing my men to death. Unspeakable acts — even my father was shocked." He shuddered. "I wish I hadn't read it."

  Good grief. Roy only found real enjoyment from the pain of others, and was known for torturing his enemies to death. For something to shock him ... it would have to be truly terrible. No wonder Tony was having nightmares.

  I recalled the article in the Golden Bridges about problems between the Harts and Clubbs. Had any other shops been broken into? "Tony, if they have your signature and your hand, we must contact the other Families, tell them to beware of any notes from us." The last thing we needed was for a war to begin because of a forged note.

  Tony nodded. "I received word from Alexander Clubb, asking if a letter from me was legitimate. It was not." He paused. "I'll send word with Ten. They know he is to be trusted."

  Ten Hogan was Tony's first cousin, six years his elder, who the men called Sawbuck.

  I leaned forward. "I believe the attack on you, the shipment theft, and the kidnapping of your men was to distract us from this break-in so we wouldn't investigate it." Who would have expected a paper to cause so much trouble? "Madame said her shop was unusually busy after the break-in. More accomplices?"

  Tony put his hand to his forehead. "This is incredible. Why are we being targeted so?"