The Queen of Diamonds Read online

  The Clubbs had probably been saying the same thing for weeks now.

  Tony rested his hand on his desk. "Thank you for telling me this. I'm not sure what I would do without you."

  We sat gazing at each other across his desk. I wondered what it might have been like if we had been given a chance to meet, and court, and perhaps even fall in love, instead of it all being forced upon us. I didn't know what I felt for Tony: friendship, companionship, at times, deep pride in him. He had grown a great deal during the past six weeks.

  I remembered Joe's question: do you love him?

  I didn't know.

  I remembered Gardena. If Roy hadn't taken me from my home, would Tony have married her instead? Perhaps that might have been the better choice. "What will you do?"

  He glanced aside. "Other than send word to the other Families, I'm not sure what we can do."

  This I could help with. And it was a good distraction from things I could do little about. "All messages to another Family should come from a trusted hand. No more messenger boys. Also, the contents should have a specific word signifying it's from us, that few know."

  Tony nodded. "Good."

  "And no message should be acted upon without confirmation of who sent it."

  Tony hesitated. "Sending notes isn't all they might do." He retrieved a ledger from his desk. "I haven't done the accounts —"

  I stared at him, shocked. The Golden Bridges article about the Harts refusing to pay what they said were false bills now made sense. "Tony ... could they be using our own money against us?"

  His face turned red. "I don't know."

  I reached across the desk and he put his hand in mine. "Tony ... I don't know what's happening. But you can't keep on like this. I worry for you. You're working long hours. You're not sleeping well —"

  He flinched.

  "— and you can't keep doing everything yourself. Hire someone you trust to go over all the accounts, even before the break-in at Madame's shop. We must know what they're doing, and what they've done. And we must know it soon, if we're to stop whatever it is they plan."

  He didn't meet my eye, but took a deep breath and let it out, then rose, moving to the door. "I must gather my men."

  "Tony —"

  He stopped, still facing away. "Yes?"

  "Would you teach me to shoot?"

  He let out a breath and faced me. "Why?"

  It seemed obvious to me. "What do you mean, why?"

  "Why would you possibly want to learn to shoot people?"

  Why would I want to learn to shoot? How did he not know his father had been teaching me to shoot since I was twelve? But his eyes held only confusion. "Well —" Obviously his parents hid my lessons from him somehow. And his men did too, which meant Roy told them not to tell him. I couldn't think of a reason for Tony not to know I could shoot. But until I knew why Roy didn't want Tony to know, I felt afraid to say anything. I didn't want to make the same sort of mistake I had at the dinner. Nor did I want to upset Tony even more than he was already. "You're always so worried about me. I thought —"

  He let out a short amused laugh. "No, no, no ... you don't need to worry about such things."

  Tony wasn't a good shot. Maybe he felt embarrassed? "If you don't have time, maybe one of your men could —"

  "No." He shook his head. "Under no circumstances ask them."

  "But why?"

  "It's not proper. Besides, I don't want you involved in such things." He smiled at me the way one might smile at a small child. "Just stay near your men, and all will be well."

  "But —"

  "No. That's final. Don't ask me again."

  He left, closing the door behind him. I went to change out of my street clothes and tell Pearson that tea should be delayed.

  The Disguise

  After Tony gathered his men, they went into his study for quite some time. Since they didn't seem to want or need me there, I went to my study and took my tea there.

  I needed to learn to shoot better. Tony wouldn't teach me, and he forbade me to ask his men. There were no shooting ranges in Bridges for women. Perhaps Josie knew how to shoot? I doubted it, but I would ask the next time I saw her.

  The more pressing issue was that for ten years Tony's men had hidden something from him. Why would his father Roy (and more importantly, his mother Molly) not tell him I knew how to defend myself?

  When Mary came to take my plates after tea, I said, "Would you ask your father to come here?"

  "Certainly, mum," she said.

  A short while later, Pearson arrived. "How may I help?"

  "Which days is Mrs. Molly Spadros 'at home'?" A proper lady had days which were set aside for visitors to call. I did this for over a year after Tony and I married, and sat for many a day waiting for someone to visit.

  "I'll inquire, mum."

  "Thank you, Pearson."

  ***

  At dinner, Tony said, "I hope Dame Anastasia is well?"

  "She means to leave the city."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. I know she's been a friend to you."

  I felt a melancholy sense of loss. "She has."

  We resumed eating in silence for some time, then Tony said, "I'm going to be gone tomorrow."

  "The casino?"

  He nodded. "The city inspector will be there, plus the architect." He paused, taking a bite of his dinner. "I should be home by tea-time at any rate."

  "Dame Anastasia asked me to help with some of the arrangements. Perhaps I'll do that tomorrow while you're away."

  Tony smiled fondly. "Good. Spend all the time you need to with her."

  He obviously thought I meant to help with such things as paperwork or perhaps packing, but I had a different plan in mind.

  ***

  The next day, the headline for the Bridges Daily read:

  EXPLOSION AT CLUBB MARINA

  A boat at the Clubb Marina suffered total damage after an explosion just prior to midnight. The boat was in one of the day hire berths, and it is unknown what boat it was or whether anyone was aboard at the time. Police are investigating the wreckage to determine the type and cause of the explosion. As of yet there are neither witnesses nor suspects.

  Did Morton say he had no berth in Clubb quadrant, or was that just at the Women's Center? I couldn't remember. But I had no word from him in almost three weeks. Although I still felt irked at Morton for abandoning me and David after we escaped the factory, I now felt concerned for his safety.

  ***

  I visited Anastasia after the morning meeting, taking the carriage this time.

  While Honor and the coachman cooled their heels by the carriage, I changed into a scullery maid's calico dress. Anastasia bound my hair in a white scarf while I removed my makeup.

  My men were forbidden to leave the carriage alone, so one of them would be out front with it at all times. I had to get out of the house and past them somehow.

  Anastasia kept glancing at my face. "That bruise on your cheek is a fearsome disguise."

  "A blessing from Roy Spadros." In a way, I deserved it. I was foolish to try to seduce a reporter, especially without investigating his background. If I had, I would have known he belonged to the Bridgers, a fanatical religious group. Thrace Pike's enraged pamphlet denouncing me almost got the both of us killed.

  Anastasia sighed. "As I feared. Yet it may be of use to us." She turned my chair towards her, and opened a box with makeups of various colors, "from my time in the theater."

  "You were in the theater?"

  "Oh, yes, as a much younger woman. It was one of many tries the city made to revive some culture after the Coup." She smiled. "I don't believe I was half bad at it. Makeup, I mean. "

  "I had no idea."

  "It was quite fun. Of course, my father was horrified at the idea of me being anywhere near the theater, but I was rather wild then." She laughed. "I met your friend's mother once there when she was a small girl."

  I blinked, confused. "Whose mother?"

  "The
Diamond girl ... Gardena, is it? Terrible what happened to her mother Rachel. She was a beautiful child." She paused. "I'm not unsympathetic to the girl's feelings on the matter, but she must learn to control her temper."

  Anastasia did have a point.

  "It's even worse when you consider what people say ... I mean ... oh, perhaps I shouldn't speak of it."

  "What?"

  She lowered her voice. "They say Rachel's husband Julius still takes his husband's prerogative, even though her mind is like that of a child. Shameful, if you ask me."

  Would he really do that? The man could have any woman in the city.

  "Done," Anastasia said. "Perfection."

  When I looked at the mirror, a much younger woman stared back at me. Anastasia's makeup added a recently bruised eye atop the old bruise on my cheek.

  "You will be a young maid, beaten often, seeking help against her lover." Anastasia powdered over it for just a moment, as if I had tried to hide the marks, yet had done so poorly.

  I almost feared to appear before Thrace Pike in this manner. "You must show me how to do this." Then I hesitated, remembering the numerous maids in my kitchens. "How can I leave? Surely your staff will know I don't belong here."

  Anastasia smiled. "Never fear." She led me downstairs to a side door, then to a gate, where a man stood guard. She put her arm around my shoulders. "This girl is under my protection. Bring her to me at once when she returns."

  The man flinched when he looked at my face, then nodded. "Yes, m'lady."

  With an old shawl around my shoulders and a covered basket on my arm, I hurried past my carriage, head down, as any young maid would past two strange men. They paid no attention to me.

  ***

  I hadn't made an appointment with Thrace Pike. But when I went to his grandfather's law firm and asked to see him, I was shown up at once.

  Thrace Pike's entire office was smaller than one of my closets: dusty, paneled in dark brown, packed full of books and papers. A narrow window let in the pale light of an overcast sky, doing little to improve the room's look.

  Thrace Pike, a man of twenty with straw-colored hair and eyes of very dark brown, stood when I entered. He wore the same threadbare brown suit he had worn the last three times we met. Like his window, he was thin, pale, and transparent, barely containing his horror at my appearance. I mentally congratulated Anastasia at her skill with makeup.

  "Please, sit down." He pointed to a chair beside his desk, and I sat. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, and spoke in a kind manner. "How may I help you?"

  I smiled. "You finally don't recognize me."

  He frowned, peering at me. "Mrs. Spadros?" He spoke in a whisper. "Dealer help us." He gripped the corner of his desk nearest me, sounding truly aghast. "What happened to you?"

  I grinned. "A friend with skill in makeup."

  The color returned to his face. "You've had your joke. What do you want?"

  "Surely you don't think I of all people could visit an attorney's office dressed in my own clothes? With my usual makeup?" What a foolish man. "I'm here on business. Two items of business, to be exact."

  "Business." He sounded confused. "But you have an attorney. Why come here?"

  "The Spadros Family has an attorney." I placed my hand gently on his. "But this is not Spadros Family business." I gazed into his eyes. "These matters are of importance to me. I would be obliged if they didn't hear of it."

  After several seconds, Mr. Pike flinched, drawing his hand back, his face red. "Of course not. No one will hear it from me."

  "I knew I could depend on you."

  At my words, his cheeks grew even redder. He took a deep breath and let it out. "How can I help you?"

  I took the list from my basket. "A friend wishes these men to repay their debts." I handed the list to him.

  "Is there a reason your friend doesn't use her own attorney?"

  "I did wonder that myself, to be quite honest. She spoke of being in financial distress. Perhaps she can't afford the retainer?" I shook my head. "It's terrible to see a woman placed in difficulty."

  Mr. Pike nodded, keeping his face quite still. From his previous rants, I believe he was secretly pleased at a rich woman being brought low, being the champion of the poor that he was, at least, in his own mind. "I'll send notices to these men at once." He paused. "What is your second matter?"

  I took a deep breath and let it out. I needed to word this carefully. "I believe Jack Diamond guilty of a crime. He would kill me if given the chance. I need information about him."

  Thrace Pike's face grew pale.

  I hastened to say, "I don't need information in order to harm him. I only wish to gain proof of his offense before going to the Four Families for an inquiry. They will deal with him."

  Mr. Pike stood. "I must speak with my grandfather at once." He hurried out.

  Ah, the grandfather. At last I would meet him.

  I waited there for a quarter hour before Mr. Pike returned. "Please follow me."

  I followed him past dozens of tiny rooms similar to his own with young men toiling away. Then we reached a spacious one, where an old man sat behind a desk of mahogany.

  Doyle Pike: white hair, skillfully cut and immaculately combed, shrewd hazel eyes. His clothing probably cost more than Mr. Pike's entire monthly salary. He didn't rise to meet me. "Have a seat, Mrs. Spadros."

  Thrace closed the door behind us.

  "Whoever did your makeup is a master," Doyle Pike said. "I've seen many a beaten woman, and if I didn't know better, I would have sworn you to be one too."

  I took the offered seat. I couldn't say it was a pleasure to meet him, so I said nothing.

  Doyle Pike peered at me for several seconds, then placed a sheet on the desk in front of me. "Thrace told me what you want. Here are our usual charges."

  I didn't touch the sheet. "So you'll perform these duties?"

  "Dunning these shop owners is a minor matter, especially if it's for you, as opposed to, say, your husband. But we don't get involved in Family matters. Bad for business."

  "I see." I scanned the page; this was more than I planned to spend. "I have a question."

  Doyle Pike smiled. It reminded me of a picture I saw at Spadros Manor as a child, in a book of legendary creatures, pre-Catastrophe: the alligator, preparing to bite. "By all means."

  I gave Thrace Pike a quick glance.

  "My grandson has given up all Bridger connections to work here," Doyle Pike said. "It was a condition of my taking him on."

  Really? I turned to look at Thrace Pike, who stared straight ahead, face crimson. "I'm astonished. And your wife as well?"

  Thrace Pike didn't move or look at me.

  "The whole lot of them," Doyle said. "I disowned his father years ago for getting involved with such nonsense. Good to see young Thrace here finally come to his senses. Not only are the Bridgers bad for business, you aren't going to get anywhere in this city being connected to them."

  So Mr. Thrace Pike had been serious when he said he wanted to overthrow the Families.

  I rose. "I'm doing this on behalf of an elderly friend, who's in financial difficulty. This is more than I'm prepared to pay."

  Doyle smiled. "You're doing this on behalf of a woman who takes in more money in a month than every attorney on this block combined, who it seems has you taken in as well."

  I didn't like the sound of that, and perhaps it showed in my expression, for he laughed, picking up the sheet on the desk. "These are our usual charges. You know, for the usual folk. But for Mrs. Spadros, perhaps we could come to an agreement."

  I sat. "I'm listening."

  He picked up the list of names and ran down it. "I imagine you've already been paid. My guess is, in gems. Am I right?"

  I smiled.

  "I find I have a lack of interest in gems. But I do have an interest in new customers. For every name on this list, you refer a customer to me, and we can call it even."

  "I find I have a lack of interest in
providing you with new customers. I would prefer to keep this arrangement between ourselves, and not involve others." Others who might wonder why Jacqueline Spadros referred them to an attorney uninvolved in the Spadros Family Business. "Perhaps a cut of any money recovered. Say, 1%."

  Doyle Pike leaned forward, elbows on his desk. "Where were you when I was thirty ... "

  "Not even a consideration in my grandmother's mind, I imagine."

  His face soured. "1% it is." He glanced up at Thrace Pike, who stood gaping at our exchange. "Well, go on, boy, get to it. We need to earn our cut."

  Thrace hurried out.

  These men must have owed Anastasia a great deal of money. Perhaps I should have asked about this before taking on the case. Maybe her diamond necklace, instead of being too great a payment, wasn't payment enough.

  The Investigator

  "Now about this business with the Diamonds," Doyle said. "I have just the man for it." He opened his desk drawer and took out a business card. "Name's Jake Bower. Does good work." He handed me the card. "Just a few doors down. Tell him I sent you."

  Jake Bower was a blocky man, forty or so, dark as a Diamond with a ready smile. He had short, wavy black hair, wore a dark blue suit, and walked with a limp. He reminded me of Julius Diamond, if the man had any humor to him. Jake met me at the door of his office, and after a moment's hesitation said, "Come in."

  I went inside. Through a partially opened door, I glimpsed a small room to the left, which held a neatly-made bed and several portraits on the walls. A short, unlit hallway lay straight ahead. To the right, the front room was almost completely lined with dark wooden bookshelves and file cases. A small desk stood underneath the window; an oval table in the same dark wood stood in the center. He gestured for me to sit, and he sat across from me, folding his hands on the table. "What can I do for you?"

  "I was referred to you by Doyle Pike."

  "And you might be?"

  I could imagine his confusion: I wore a scullery maid's dress, yet spoke like an upper. "That comes later. First, tell me of your work and qualifications."

  He laughed, long and hard, as if my words delighted him. "You're no scullery wench. Very well. I have no appointments today. If you can't pay me, at least you're amusing."