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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.

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