The Shooting
The Shooting
A hot rain battered my window-screen as
thunder rolled overhead. I reclined upon the sofa in my parlor,
gazing out past the screen to the narrow street beyond.
Jonathan Diamond sat in an
armchair beside me, trouser-legs rolled up, his damp feet now
resting upon a towel set on a chair. His boots and socks hung by
the fireplace to dry. “The storm’s only supposed to last another
hour.”
His hands shook, just a
little. And I didn’t like the way his feet looked, discolored and
swollen. But he claimed that under the circumstances, they were
quite well. “Is there anything I might have Mary get you?”
Jon grinned over his
shoulder at me with a small shrug. “I’m wonderfully well-fed, warm,
and dry, sitting next to the most beautiful woman in the world.
What more might I need?”
My cheeks grew hot. “Since
when have you become a flatterer?”
He reached over to take my
hand, and I loved the way his dark, dark skin looked against mine.
“Never.”
We usually went out to
luncheon, Jon and I, but I’d felt unwell — not ill, mind you, but
that bleeding malady which strikes women monthly, like clockwork.
And even so, he’d dared brave scandal and defy quadrant-folk custom
to call on me.
A baby’s wail came from far
beyond the kitchen. Squeezing Jon’s hand, I scooted up to press it
to my cheek, eyes burning. “I don’t deserve such regard, Jon.”
He smiled warmly. “Of course
you do.”
My butler Blitz Spadros came
in through the door to the kitchen wearing house clothes, carrying
a tea-tray. “Care for some more?”
Our temporary housekeeper
Mrs. Crawford must still have been at luncheon. It was the first of
the month, and I’d given my lady’s maid Amelia the day off, just as
her husband and children back at Spadros Manor had. “I’ll have
some.” I swung myself around to sit up, slipping my feet into my
house shoes, which sat upon the floor. My back hurt, and my innards
ached, but the doctor had said tea was good for my health. And I
was a bit thirsty.
“No more for me,” Jon said.
“I’ve used my allotment for today.” He grinned. “Have to leave room
for my tonics.”
Jon had a heart condition,
which seemed to have worsened of late. The doctors had told him
nothing more might be done, and even last week published a treatise
upon his remarkable longevity. Yet despite his duties as Keeper of
the Court, Jonathan took life in great ease and merriment those
days, as if his ailment was merely an inconvenience. “Is your
daughter well, sir?”
Blitz let out a laugh.
“Being a newly-born babe must be a difficult matter, judging by the
heart-rending nature of her cries. Yet the doctor claims she’s
perfectly well.”
Ariana Spadros was only
dealt in six weeks before, and seldom slept. I turned to Jon. “Your
mother was an Apprentice and your grandfather an Inventor. Are you
very good at fixing things?”
Blitz said, “What is it you
need fixed?”
I unhooked the key to my
dresser from my waistband and handed it to him. “There’s what looks
like a small hatbox in my top dresser drawer. Would you bring it to
me?”
Blitz gave me a wry grin.
“As you command.”
Jon and I both burst out
laughing.
Blitz left through the door
to the front hall.
Jon said, “Did you see the
special edition news? A copy arrived just before I left to come
here.”
I shook my head.
Jon shifted to face me. “You
won’t believe what Mayor Freezout said in his speech before the
City Council today. He proposed that the Four Families should be
sent to the Prison!”
“Good gods,” I said. “Has he
lost his mind?”
“There were several
editorials asking the same thing. And that fool bill of Pike’s is
back —”
“Wait,” I said. “Doyle
Pike’s writing bills now?” At one time, Mr. Pike had been my
lawyer, until he tried blackmailing me.
“No, the young one. Thrace,
I believe? The one with the District Attorney’s office. He wants to
make refusing to speak with the police a felony offense, rather
than a fined misdemeanor.”
I scoffed. “No one should be
forced to speak with anyone, least of all one of those
scoundrels.”
Jon leaned back. “At least
the Council’s got some sense.”
The City Council had kept
Freezout from going to outsiders for help about the train crisis.
The trains seemed to be in perfect order once again, which was
reassuring. But there’d been rumors that Freezout still wanted
outside laborers in to help with the continual power outages.
I never understood why Mayor
Freezout would want outsiders involved with the city’s repair. The
only thing I might imagine was that bringing those people in would
shame the Families somehow.
But with the Feds looking
for any excuse to take the city, his actions endangered us all.
Blitz returned with my
magnification spyglass case in his hand, peering at it. “What’s
this?”
I rose, taking it from him,
then sat, taking out the spyglass. “It opens up, you see? Then when
you look through it, small items are magnified.” But it wobbled
loosely these days, rather than opening straight. I’d paid a great
deal for it, and it seemed more prudent to have it repaired rather
than try to find another.
The sound of a carriage came
clattering through the rain, which seemed odd. Our street was
really too narrow to drive fast like that.
In the midst of handing my
spyglass back to Blitz, he looked past me, eyes wide. “Get
down!”
Jonathan lunged, knocking me
to the floor. The spyglass hit the table, pieces of brass flying.
The rat-ta-tat-tat of the Tommy gun sent bullets through my metal
window-screen and into the room as glass shattered around us. The
sound of the carriage continued on past through pouring rain and
the angry shouts of men.
Jon lay atop me, face
flushed, his dark eyes wide. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so.” I felt,
if anything, a bit squashed. “And you?”
His face was quite close to
mine. “I don’t think I am.”
I felt a bit flustered.
“That’s twice now you’ve saved me.”
Blitz came round then,
pulling Jon to his feet.
Jon rubbed his side. “The
table seems to have won this round.”
The last time he’d tangled
with my table, he’d been left with a huge gash in his side. I
clambered to my feet, glass crunching beneath my house shoes, and
opened his jacket.
Jon smiled. “I told you I
wasn’t hurt.”
Eyes stinging, I threw my
arms round him. “Oh, gods, Jon, if anything were to happen to you
—” I felt his arm warm round me. He smelled good. I relaxed into
his embrace, eyes closed, feeling safe.
How long had it been since
anyone held me?
Blitz cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Spadros —”
I let go of Jon, really
looked at him. He’d drawn back, unsteady, shaken. “I’m sorry, Jon.
You look as if you need a chair. Blitz, help Master Diamond to the
kitchen.”
My temporary housekeeper
Mrs. Claudete Crawford rushed into the room from the hall. The
ancient brown woman’s eyes widened when she saw the damage. “Dealer
preserve us.” Then she looked at me and curtsied low. “My Lady, are
you well?”
“So far.” The rain had
subsided, but we needed to take care of matters before my sofa was
ruined. “Go to Mary and let her know we’re all safe. Then the
broom, if you please. Oh, and Blitz, after you send word to Master
Jonathan’s men, find a hammer, nails, and some blankets. We have to
cover these windows until it stops raining or Mr. Howell’s men
arrive.”
Mr. Eight Howell was the
Family man for our street. I imagined he’d not be in a good humor
at a carriage of scoundrels shooting up the place.
By the time Mr. Howell and his men arrived,
the rain had slowed, and Mrs. Crawford, Blitz, and I had done a
fair job of cleaning.
Mr. Howell wasn’t too much
taller than me, a pale man with a big bushy beard. “We stopped the
bastards before they might clear the street.” He scowled so
fiercely that for an instant, I almost felt sorry for them. “We
gotta take care of this before the police show up.” He gestured to
his men. “Start with the walls.”
At once, the men searched
the walls in the hall and front rooms for bullets. Fortunately,
they got the last one out just as the police arrived.
When I opened the door, the
rain had turned to gentle mist. “Thank you so much for visiting.
How may I help?”
The young Constable scanned
the outer wall, the window-screens. “What’s gone on here?”
“I really couldn’t say, sir.
Some children with rocks, I imagine.”
He began to laugh. Then he
quickly recovered, pointing at the bullet holes piercing my thick
door. “You want me to believe
rocks
did this?”
Blitz came up behind me.
“Sir, this is the Lady of Spadros —”
The young man blanched, and
he doffed his hat, bowing. “My apologies, mum —”
His partner, a man barely
out of boyhood, stood frozen in terror on the sidewalk beyond.
“— so if she says it’s
rocks, it’s rocks.” He handed the man a dollar bill. “Most likely
done by boys with slingshots. Got it?”
He gaped at the dollar. Then
he glanced at the Family men around him. “Thank you, sir. You’re
too generous, sir.” He bowed to me again. “Mum.” The pair made a
hasty retreat.
I turned to Blitz. “Did you
have to give them a whole week’s pay?” It was what I got from Tony
to live on for a whole month.
Blitz shrugged. “I don’t
like scrabbling around for pennies.”
Chuckling, I returned
inside, Blitz following. Men were in my bedroom and the parlor,
clearing the last of the glass from the frames to put new panes
in.
Ever since I’d returned from
the meeting with Cesare Diamond two months back, the Family men for
my street had been particularly generous. I believe my cooperation
in the matter improved the way Roy Spadros, our quadrant’s
Patriarch, now viewed me.
Of course, I’d not seen the
man since then — he’d been somewhat occupied, if the papers spoke
true.
For the past two months,
massive negotiations had been underway between the Spadros and
Diamond Families.
As a result, the South River
between Spadros and Diamond was being dredged — which it sorely
needed — to locate any remains that might still be there. People on
both sides who’d lost friends and family in the first
Diamond-Spadros War lined up for miles at various locations to be
interviewed.
The process looked likely to
take years to fully sort through. It was good for jobs, though,
which pleased many, especially in the slums.
Jonathan sat at the kitchen
table, still barefoot, sifting through the lenses and bits of brass
now lying upon an old sheet of newspaper. “I think all the pieces
are here.” He looked up at me. “But this is delicate work. A
watchmaker might be able to repair it, but I doubt I can.”
I went round to sit beside
Jon, facing the door to the parlor. “I should have asked Mr. Howell
who the men were.”
Jon raised his eyebrows.
“That shot at us?” He let out a laugh. “I’m sure they’ll figure it
out eventually.” His head turned towards Blitz, making a quick
movement to the left.
Blitz said, “I’ll see if
your boots are dry yet.”
As the kitchen door opened,
daylight blazed into the room as a few men hoisted a window glass
into place.
I gazed fondly at the pieces
of my spyglass. It looked as though some of the pins holding the
pieces in place had broken. “You remember when we went to buy
this?”
Jon said, “There’s something
I wish to speak with you about.”
“Oh?”
Jon slid the pieces of brass
towards the center of the table and rested his arms upon it.
“You’re not safe here.” He ran a hand over his face, the back of
his neck. “This only proves it.”
I shrugged. “We don’t know
this was about me. It could have just as well been aimed at
you.”
Jon stared at the table.
“I’ve thought about this, Jacqui. The only way you’ll be able to
live in safety is to return to Spadros Manor.”
Spadros Manor. It seemed my
entire life’s effort had been to leave that place. And now to
return?
“My sister told me what you
said to her at our Country House —”
Our enemies now know
where you are. And they know my husband values you above all else.
The longer you and my husband stay apart, the more you become a
knife to his throat. Please, for his sake, for your son’s sake,
take Roland and go to him.
“— and it sincerely
distressed her.”
I felt somber, grieved. “I
never meant to do so. Your people are so different, it seems like
I’m in another city.”
Jon tensed up, just a bit.
“My people?”
I’d grown up in the Pot, and
though it seemed they no longer wanted me there, I felt I’d never
truly left them. “You know ... quadrant-folk.”
Jonathan smiled to himself,
relaxing. But underneath his smile lay sadness. “Your husband told
me you thought he sent you off to die.”
I did say so — I won’t deny
it.
“Jacqui, there’s something
you need to understand. Tony did fear for Gardena’s life. But when
he stops his agitation and thinks calmly, he knows we would do
anything to protect her. His main and very reasonable fear was for
his son. How can you fault him, when he had to choose between his
wife’s safety and that of his child?”
I snorted, feeling bitter.
“And of course
I
was expendable —”
“No! It’s killing him to
know you think so. What choice did he have? Besides, if anyone
could ensure Roland’s safety it would be you. The boy knew you,
trusted you. And Tony believed you cared for the boy. Yet if he
misjudged you, he knew you’d die before letting harm come to any
child, even your husband’s bastard.” Jon bowed his head. “Tony’s
done nothing but try to help you, Jacqui. In spite of all you’ve
done, I believe he still loves you.”
My eyes stung; I didn’t know
what to say. Tony trusted me with his son’s life? “I misjudged
him.”
Jon clasped his hands
together and swallowed, eyes still upon the table. “All he wants is
for you to return home.”
But it wasn’t my home. It
never had been. I felt shaky. “I don’t know, Jon.”
He rested his hand on mine.
“I need you to be settled.” He sounded weary. “I don’t know how
much longer I can keep on like this.”
I whispered, “That’s so
unfair.”
“Perhaps it is. But I must
speak the truth.” He withdrew his hand and shook his head, eyes
still on the table. “All I’ve ever wanted for you was to be safe,
and loved, and happy. You can find that there.”
I bit my lip, blinking back
tears. I felt loved here, and I’d been happy just an hour before,
so much more so than there. And even at Spadros Manor, had I ever
been safe? I pictured Tony’s father Roy hitting me. “Let me think
on it.”
Jon nodded, eyes on the
table.
I rested my hand on his. “I
will
think on it, Jon. I promise.”
He gave me a fake smile. “I
suppose that’s all I can ask for.”
The door to the back hall
opened. Mary Spadros came into the kitchen wearing a robe, her long
straight light brown hair down around her shoulders. When she saw
us, she flinched, then curtsied. “I’m so sorry, mum! I didn’t
realize you were in here.”
Jon said, “It’s all right.”
He glanced at the clock. “I must be off.”
Blitz came in at once,
carrying Jon’s boots and socks. “I have everything here for you,
sir.”
Jon scooted back a bit,
glancing at his feet. “I’ll need that towel again.” He grinned at
me. “It seems my feet water themselves now.”
And so it was: his feet were
positively moist.
Blitz knelt before him. “Let
me help you.” He dried Jon’s feet and helped him into socks and
boots.
Jon rose with some
difficulty. “Have you seen my cane?”
Mary said, “I’ll fetch
it.”
But Blitz stopped her.
“You’re not dressed, and the front hall’s full of workmen.” He left
the three of us, returning a few minutes later with Jon’s black and
silver cane. “I had someone speak with your driver to have the
carriage brought round front.”
“That’s very kind of you,”
Jon said.
Blitz said, “Not at all,
sir. It’s too far for anyone.”
The rain had stopped. We got
Jon out to his white and silver carriage, its mark of a Diamond
Heir raised in real silver upon the door. Once he climbed the few
steps, he sat heavily on the black velvet bench seat, eyes closed
for a moment.
After his footman shut the
door, I reached up through the open window to take Jon’s hand.
“I’ll consider what you said. Please don’t fret yourself on the
matter any further.”
Jon nodded. “I’ll see you
tomorrow for luncheon, then?”
“Hopefully I’ll feel well
enough to go out.”
Jon shrugged. “If not, just
send word. It’s not too terribly far here.” He turned to the
footman. “The Courthouse, if you please.”
“Right away, sir.”
I waved as Jon’s carriage
continued down the narrow street. After fishing a bit of glass from
my pocket, I lit a cigarette.
Tony had trusted me with his
son’s life.
His angry, stricken face in
the meeting room several weeks before swam before me.
How can I
trust anything you say again?
A deep voice said, “I take
it the Diamond wasn’t hurt, then?”
I turned to Mr. Howell. The
afternoon sun shone in my face; I held up my hand to shield my
eyes. “Not at all. How may I help?”
He moved a bit to my left,
out of the sun. “Thought you should see this.” He presented me with
a couple of plain white business cards. Upon them lay the stamp of
a dog, in red. One had a dirty smudge upon it.
I handed them back. “The Red
Dog Gang.”
“They didn’t put up much of
a fight, so it’s safe to say they intended on being caught.”
“Or they were a couple of
deuces,” I tapped my temple, “not given instructions on what to do
after shooting.”
Mr. Howell frowned. “They’d
send their own men to the torture?”
I took a drag from my
cigarette. Everyone knew about my father-in-law Mr. Roy Spadros and
his torture rooms. “It would fit with what we’ve seen from them
before.”
“What’d you tell the
coppers?”
I smiled to myself. “Boys
with slingshots.”
He chuckled. “We should have
this cleared up today, all but the screens. We’ll patch them for
now and order new ones.”
“I appreciate that.”
“We take care of our own,
Mrs. Spadros. Mr. Roy said to tell you that personally.”
“Did he send any other
message?”
Mr. Howell hesitated, then
shook his head. “I best get back to work.” He tipped his cap and
moved away.
“There is something you
might do, Mr. Howell.”
He faced me. “What?”
“That special edition of the
news. I shouldn’t have to learn these things from Master
Diamond.”
Mr. Howell nodded, his eyes
wary. “It won’t happen again.”
I turned to survey my home.
Men were replacing the siding below the signs upon the wall next to
my front door, which read:
Kaplan Private Investigations