The Police
The Police
The clock struck quarter past six when Mr.
Thrace Pike arrived: I caught glimpse of him exiting his carriage.
As he was with the District Attorney’s office, I called to Blitz to
let him in and sent Mary to the kitchen, thinking his visit
pertained to the shooting.
As it turned out, it did,
but not as I imagined.
Mr. Pike’s position had
improved somewhat since I’d last seen him. His suit, while still
brown, was purchased at a reputable shop rather than the poorhouse,
and his shoes were new.
I felt impressed to see him
hand a topper to Blitz as I watched through the open doorway to the
hall. “Come in, Mr. Pike, sit down.”
He scanned the parlor then
seated himself upon my sofa, puzzlement upon his face, probably
wondering why I didn’t rise to greet him. “I hope you’re well.”
“Reasonably so, sir. Would
you care for tea?”
“No, thank you.” He sat
relaxed, gazing at me as if entranced.
The silence grew awkward.
Finally, I ventured, “I presume this is an official visit?”
He appeared to be at a loss
for words. But he quickly recovered. “Mrs. Spadros, I’m disturbed
to hear of a shooting.”
I smiled, amused.
“Here?”
He leaned forward, frowning.
“Don’t bluff, madam. You may have cowed those boys dressed as
officers, but you don’t fool me.”
This was new. “Is that a
threat, sir?”
Mr. Pike blinked. “A
what?”
“Will you charge me with a
crime for not speaking to the police in the manner you wish me to?
Is this what that bill of yours is for?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do you mean to also target
the young women who suffer unwanted attentions and attack by the
police, and wish merely to be left alone?”
Mr. Pike gaped at me.
“Or is it rather their
fathers and brothers, those men who come to their aid? Are those
the ones that you wish to imprison?”
His face flushed red. “Mrs.
Spadros, I mean nothing of the kind! You’ve just been shot at. What
wise proclamation would you make upon the matter?”
“You might begin by
considering what has happened to make it so people won’t speak with
the police. How we arrived at this point in the first place.”
Mr. Pike said nothing.
“Do you not remember our
conversation at the Plaza, sir? It wasn’t even three years past. I
can’t imagine you’ve forgotten it.”
He seemed to have nothing to
say.
I sighed. Was he truly so
ignorant? “You’re a good man, Mr. Pike. A decent man. But you’re
not smart —”
He bristled.
“— at least, not in the ways
that matter.”
Mr. Pike frowned. “I want
those men prosecuted, not torn to pieces below Spadros Castle! How
can I protect you if you won’t help me?”
“You have the matter
directly in front of you, yet you fail to see it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Of course he didn’t. “In
your world, warm and safe upon Market Center, men declare their
cards boldly, for good or ill. But this isn’t neutral territory;
this is Spadros quadrant. We’re playing poker with guns drawn. The
loser doesn’t have his day in court, sir. The loser dies, and so
does his family. His friends. And his associates.”
Mr. Pike appeared
dismayed.
“I’ve had enough friends
die. And I, for one, prefer to live. If you do too, I suggest that
at least for your family’s sake, before you continue your play, you
at least learn the game.”
He stared at me a full
minute, then rose. “Good evening, then.”
“Good evening, sir. My
regards to your wife.”
After a startled glance, Mr.
Pike took his hat from Blitz and left.
Blitz said, “What was that
all about?”
I shrugged, realizing that
Roy, of all people, had been right about the man. “He’s a crusader,
Blitz. He’s going to save Bridges from itself. A brave man.”
Blitz let out a laugh. “For
certain. By the way, dinner’s ready.”
Apparently Amelia had left
to return to Spadros Manor while I’d spoken to Mr. Pike, because
she was nowhere to be found.
Why did Thrace Pike even
come here? Whatever the reason, I doubted he’d live to see the end
of this. Sooner or later he was going to anger one of the Families,
and that would finish him.
Halfway through dinner, the doorbell rang.
Blitz answered it, returning with Master Blaze Rainbow, our only
boarder and my business partner.
Master Rainbow (or as I
thought of him, Morton) was in his later thirties. Only a bit
taller than me, he had light brown hair, a nose that had been
broken at least once, and poor skin. But he had a beautiful smile,
a loyal spirit, and had been a great help to me in many a
situation. “Come sit with us,” I said. “Have you eaten?”
“Not as yet.” Before Mary
might rise to serve him, he waved her off. “I can get my own food,
thanks.”
Mrs. Crawford refused to eat
with us. In her day, servants didn’t sit at table with gentlefolk,
even if one of the gentlefolk was a “Pot rag” like me.
Yes, she said it: Blitz
might have been able to improve the soundproofing in the
apartments, but you could still hear much of what was said in the
other rooms. And the woman had no qualms about gossiping with
Amelia when she thought I couldn’t hear.
“You look well,” I said.
After his narrow escape from
death in Diamond quadrant, Morton had taken off for a visit to the
countryside. He sat across from me. “The weather’s nice in Clubb
this time of year. I rented a room by the shore mid-countryside and
did some fishing.”
Blitz laughed. “Fishing?
You’re a man of many talents.”
“Perhaps too much talent,”
Morton said. “I’m heartily sick of eating fish by now.”
“Well, it’s good we have
none for dinner tonight,” Mary said.
I thought it rather rude
that he mentioned it yet didn’t bring some back. “I’m sure by now
you’ve heard about our adventure today.”
“No,” Morton said. “What
happened?”
I watched as Blitz and Mary
told him the story.
I don’t know why I did.
Sometimes I got the feeling that Morton wasn’t always off doing
what he said he was. Perhaps an overactive imagination, perhaps
some intuition.
Or perhaps it was, for
example, that after two weeks fishing, he wasn’t the least bit
tanned.
But he seemed to have no
idea of the events here. “This is incredible. I’m glad no one was
hurt.”
People had been trying to
kill Morton ever since he helped me on a kidnapping case almost
three years past. Could this have been aimed at him? “Who knew
you’d left here?”
Morton shrugged. “All of
you, plus the driver who picked me up the day I left. Why?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Just trying to make sense of what might cause someone to do
this.”
“Damn sloppy way to do it if
they were after me,” Morton said. “This smacks of
intimidation.”
Blitz nodded sagely.
I mopped up my gravy with
the rest of my bread and ate it. “It’d be nice to know what I’m
being intimidated about.”
“Well, let’s not worry about
that now,” Mary said. “There’ll be plenty of time to figure this
out in the morning.”
The baby, off around the
corner in Blitz and Mary’s room, began to wail. Mary let out a sigh
and went out into the back hall.
“Ah, yes.” Morton’s room was
just across the hall from theirs. “I’d forgotten about our newest
little tenant.”
“She’s sleeping better now,”
Blitz said. “But if she keeps you up, maybe we can play some
dice.”
Morton grimaced. “I still
owe you for our last game.”
I laughed. “How long will
you be around?”
Morton stretched. “I should
be here for a while, as far as dinner goes. I have some research to
do, though, so I’ll be spending my days upon Market Center.”
“A pity,” I said, thinking
about the dreary government buildings there. “Do you already have a
carriage?”
Morton shook his head. “Not
as yet.”
If anyone could fix my
spyglass, it would be my friend Anna Goren. She was once a
Tinkerer, and ran an apothecary shop there on the island. “I need
to go to Market Center tomorrow. If you like, we can share the
ride.” Morton was still nominally Tony’s man, so I reasoned that my
husband shouldn’t mind us riding together.
Blitz rose. “I’ll call for
the carriage. When do you need it?”
I shrugged. “After breakfast
sometime. There’s no hurry.”
Once Blitz left, I said,
“Any luck with the search?”
Morton speared a bite of
chicken. “Not really.” He chewed, swallowed. “I’m beginning to fear
he’s dead.”
Morton and I had been
searching for one of his informants, a former Detective Constable
named Albert Sheinwold, for over a year.
Finding missing persons was
how I began my business as an investigator some eight years before;
it was something of a specialty. And up to then, I prided myself in
the fact that I’d never once failed a case of any kind.
After some time, Blitz came
in through the door to the parlor, smelling of the fresh night air.
“Message sent.”
“That took a while,” Morton
said.
Blitz let out a short laugh.
“I don’t use messenger boys anymore, not where Mrs. Spadros is
concerned. I went to the Backdoor and sent a Family man over.”
I nodded. “Good idea.” The
Backdoor Saloon was Mr. Howell’s place, and where his men tended to
congregate.
Ariana’s little wails
emerged from the back room. Blitz went into the hall.
The whole situation with
Sheinwold disturbed me. Normally, I’d be the one out doing research
and tracking leads, but I’d been beset by one problem after another
along the way. “What topic are you researching?”
Morton set down his fork. “A
police constable on Market Center has been granted permission to
let me see Sheinwold’s case files in the archives there. It’s a
building near to the main station by the Plaza. He’s already gone
through them, but perhaps I might see something he hasn’t.”
Excitement filled me. “That
seems promising!” Some former case might have come back to haunt
Mr. Sheinwold, instead of what we’d feared, that the former Federal
Agent Zia Cashout had done him in. “Would you like some help? My
errand won’t take long.”
“Sure,” Morton said. “I’ll
let them know you’ll be by.”
For so long, we’d had few
leads — even the police who might speak with us refusing to help at
every turn.
This could be the break we’d
hoped for.