The Emperor

by N. M. Brown

  “I can’t believe this.” Anna gasped, the tears falling again. “You blame me, for losing our child. You blame me because after it all happened, I wanted to continue to have fun in my life.” Anna’s hand covered her mouth like she was trying to hold back a sob. “You don’t think I went out on all those nights because I lost our child. Because I was trying to-… to lose myself in something because I couldn’t stand the way you looked at me?” She asked and the question hit McQueen like a knife to then gut.

  “I didn’t look at you-,”

  “Yes, you did!” Anna snapped, interrupting him. “Yes, you did. Every day you looked at me through dead eyes, not seeing me, not caring. You’d go to work and come home, go to work and come home; never talking to me for more than a minute. I needed support Canice, and my friends gave it to me.”

  “With drink, and parties and late nights?” McQueen groundout before he could stop himself.

  “You weren’t there Canice. You wouldn’t talk to me or touch me or even look at me. I thought it would get better, but it didn’t. It just got worse. And then of course you had your ‘big break’ and I knew that was it. I knew you would be so focused on your future; you wouldn’t care about mine.”

  Ah, McQueen thought, his skin going cold as he remembered that ‘big break.’ He was still an officer at the time, but he’d been pushing for his detective’s exam for months. It was something to focus on other than the ghostly cries he woke up to hear every night, or the ache in his arms were no child would lay.

  He’d had a source on the street who’d tipped him off about a black-market shop in an upper-class area of Dublin. He’s been told it was selling everything, from substances like rhino horn too tiger pelts. It would sell anything for the right price and McQueen had been determined to shut it down. Of course, back than he had just been there to further his career. Little did he know how close he’d come to lose it.

  ◆◆◆

  It had taken him three weeks before he got his break. A woman had been hospitalised and when questioned, her friend had explained what had happened.

  The shop hadn’t been rumoured to just catered for illegal items, but had also worked as a prescription-drug vendor. The teen in question had sort out Adderall pills to help with her exams, the results, after many hours of doctor’s efforts, were deadly. With the death of her friend, the other teen had spilled every detail about the shop she could, happy to see the place go down.

  “Can you believe kids these days?” The Officer on shift with McQueen at the time had scoffed.

  “Kids are stress by exams nowadays. There’s a lot riding on them.” McQueen answered, only half his mind in the conversation. “They’ll do anything to stay ahead.” Looking over his shoulder, McQueen watched the forensics teams work, pleased to see so much good being done.

  The owner had been taken away hours ago and everything was being catalogued for later examination and so far, if it wasn’t illegal, it was deadly. He’d been watching the Detectives on the case, trying the hear what they were saying.

  But his partner huffed, blowing a raspberry adn distracting McQueen. “Pathetic. In my day, you passed or failed and you either passed because you could or failed because you didn’t need to. Kids these days want all the cushy jobs, ones that don’t take no hard work.”

  “I’m sure that was true of then. But tests are harder nowadays. Every new discovery mean new and improved facts, or faster, quicker methods. What we once knew it completely different from now. Children today-…”

  “Anyway.” The other officer cried, cutting McQueen off. “I’m just saying the kids dead because she couldn’t accept, she was below average. What does that say about her?” And the guys sniffed, obviously thinking it was a rhetorical question.

  McQueen thought it said she had too much pressure on her shoulders and wasn’t encouraged in her individuality enough. However, it wasn’t his job to fix the education system, it was his job to nail this charlatan to the wall.

  Stepping away, he’d quickly moved into the shop front, seeking out the two Detectives on the case. “Sir. I’m going to be heading back to the station soon enough. Was there anything I can do for your team before I leave?” He asked, begging it was something that would prove his worth.

  “Officer McQueen.” The Detective smiled, “Sure, we’ve just found these polaroid’s in this nut-jobs desk. Seems he wanted a little insurance when it came to who was buying and selling stuff.” Handing over the pile, McQueen grasped them in latex gloves. “Can you log them into evidence and then take them straight to the analyst team. If we can find the people in these photos, this will set your career skywards.”

  Cuffed and eager to please, McQueen had quickly bagged and tagged the photos, making sure the photographer got extra copies of where they had been found. As he’d left the scene, photos in hand, he’d smiled to himself excited to know he was finally making progress. He was on top of the moon, top of the world... that was, until he took a closer look at what he held.

  The polaroids were in a loose bundle in the bag, all the faces looking grim and washed out. Under each was a date and what the person had bought: knives over three inches, ivory carvings, fake passports or perscription drugs, it didn’t matter. Everything was illegal.

  As McQueen slowly sat into his police carrier, his heart shuddered to a halt as he saw a soft, sweet smile poking out from those in front. He told himself he was being silly, but he recognised that smile and had seen it a thousand times. With shaking hands, he’d reopened the evidence bag, all protocols and procedure flying from his head while nibbled fingers pulled out that solitary image.

  Hair curled, flowing past her shoulder, her skin a pale shine and her signature red lips, McQueen gazed in horror as Anna’s face looked back at him. His hands had shaken so badly he dropped the image, it sailing softly into his lap, but even at a new distance there was no denying it was his wife.

  With nervous hands, he lifted the photo again, and focused through his blurry vision from the top of her charming smile to the start of her flower dress. Just as it reached her waist, the image cut off, leaving nothing but a white strip and the shop owners, twisted scrawled. The date was cramped, and the ink had bled but McQueen could still just about read it. The day was lost in a smudge, but it was readable, … it was only a few months ago. Right around the time…

  McQueen’s breath had caught in his throat and he couldn’t think. Why had she come here? What did she buy? In his shock the photo had slipped once more floating to the floor.

  Throwing the other evidence to the passenger seat, he scrambled around his feet, desperate to find, desperate to check and just as his fingers griped the smooth plastic, there was a rapid knock on his window.

  Panic filled McQueen’s veins as he’d straightened, the outside world screaming back to his attention. Looking at his hands, he saw the evidence, not his wife and across in the passenger seat was a torn, unsealed evidence bag, the evidence itself strewn across the worn leather. He’d tampered with evidence. He’d broken the chain of evidence…

  As he rolled the window down, McQueen felt his entire life fall around him. His wife had bought illegal goods… He’d ruined his career… His gift from God, his bundle of joy had been ripped from his arms…

  “Sir.” He said as the window reach the bottom. He didn’t hide, he didn’t cower. He would accept his fate with a little bit of dignity… he hoped.

  “McQueen good I caught you, I-,” The Detective froze, seeing the state McQueen had around him. His eyes had widened, and his jaw dropped, leaving no doubt in McQueen’s mind how much trouble he was in.

  “I can explain, Sir.” McQueen said quickly, his eyes still blurry with tears and his hands shaking the life damning photo. “I didn’t mean-… what I mean to say is-,”

  McQueen cleared his throat, feeling like his tongue was stuck, clinging to the back of his teeth. He couldn’t think, his brain still spinning with questions: when had she come? Was she alone? What did she buy? Looking back do
wn at the photo, McQueen read the words carful, tasting the syllables on his tongue before he spoke them.

  “Do you know what Dong Quai is, Sir?” he asked, holding the picture of his wife up. The Detective by this point, had hidden his expression well. He didn’t seem angry, just contemplative so McQueen waited; his breath held.

  “Isn’t that your wife, McQueen?” The Detectives voice seemed come through some thick fog, his words far, far away, but McQueen still found himself nodding.

  Something else might have been said, but McQueen missed it. He was lost looking at this photo, wondering if it was the angle, or maybe it was colour. It could be someone else… right?

  “McQueen?” Sapping to attention, he found himself looking back to his superior a slim plastic bag tuck between his fingers. Suddenly the bag dropped in his lap and McQueen looked at in in horror, confusion and disbelief.

  “Sir?” he stuttered, but when he looked back, his Boss had straightened.

  “Get that evidence to the Lab, McQueen. We’ll be lucky if they can identify half those pictures though. I’m sure one or two will be overlooked for how much detail they lack.” McQueen sucked in a breath and didn’t dare answer. He couldn’t. “Get going McQueen and-… I’m sorry, man. Rough break.”

  ◆◆◆

  “My ‘big break’ is to blame?” McQueen answered, rushing back to the present day, his present dilemma and his still, very present wife. “Yes. You are right about that Anna, because that day, I found out my wife… I found out what you did to our child.”

  Anna stilled, all her earlier anger dissipating in a flash. “Did-… Canice, I didn’t do anything. You know this; I’ve told you, the doctors told you. You have to let it go.” She breathed.

  “Let… it go?” McQueen asked. He found himself sat on the couch, any and all energy he had once had evaporated. “Anna, my big break was busting a charlatan shop on the outskirts of Dublin. An illegal, shop that sold animal parts, fake artwork and stolen goods, but do you know what else it sold?” McQueen did pause but he didn’t expect Anna to answer, so he kept going. “Drugs. All kinds, the usual: cocaine, weed, oxycodone and the others pain killers you’d want.”

  McQueen found himself standing suddenly, his body thrumming with vibration and he realised his was angry. Not just angry, he was furious. Eight years of anger, of keeping his mouth closed, repressing himself into denial and now it was all coming out.

  Anna’s lips were pressed together in a thin line and she was clutching herself across her stomach. She looked like she was about to be sick. “Canice-,”

  “Do you know what else he sold Anna? Dong Quai, which is so odd because it’s not even illegal in the UK, but it’s written underneath your photo.” McQueen dug into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet.

  After he’d resealed the evidence bag, there was one photo left and before he could question it, he’d fold the image and stuffed it into the bottom of his wallet. If he’d ever been caught with it, it would cost him his career. He didn’t know why he kept it and over the years he’d never taken it out again and it became a burning hole in his pocket.

  Unfolding the polaroid, it was creased and stained to the point the image almost useable, but the soft pastel dress covered in flowers was unmistakably Anna. “Dong Quai. Do you know what it is Anna?” This time he expected an answer; begged for an answer.

  Some vain, small part of him hoped Anna didn’t know; that she really was naive and hadn’t know what was going on. But his heart froze in his chest as his sweet, fire-heart Anna nodded her head, tears in her eyes. “Canice-… It’s not what you think-…” But she stopped, her sobs becoming overwhelming, and McQueen felt his own tears roll.

  “It’s a Chinese root. There’s so much detail about it online, but the one thing it does do, the one main use for it…” McQueen looked at Anna and he could feel the tears pooling in his eyes as he waited; waited for Anna to deny she knew what he was about to say, but she didn’t. Her bottom lip wobbled as she wrung her hands over and over in each other, but she didn’t look surprised. Didn’t look confused…

  “It’s used for a miscarriage, Anna. Tell me. Tell me you didn’t know?” He begged, feeling his body sag in hopelessness. Anna’s jaw popped, her head shook but she said nothing, and that was enough. “How could you?” He almost screamed. “How could you do that? From a black market too? How-…” Too many questions raced through his head once more, taking him back to when he’d first found that photograph. “Why did you go to him? Why didn’t you come to me? You aborted our baby! My child! Why?” McQueen felt his heart clench as he asked. His poor, defenceless child, ripped away before they could fight back.

  “No, Canice, no I never-,” Anna sobbed but she was unravelling. He saw the fear in Anna’s eyes, but it meant nothing to him. He had been a coward for too long, hidden behind denial and fear; fear of what this would mean for him. Before, he’d never pictured his future beyond her; never imagined a life without her. Anna had been his world, since the age of four, she was his first everything and this was the greatest of betrayals.

  “You’re not who I thought you were Anna. You never were.” McQueen whispered.

  “No, Canice. No, you-… you have it all wrong.” she protested, trying to reach for him, but McQueen backed off, not trusting himself in this state. He’d told himself there would be an explanation, but even as Anna begged, he could hear her voice fading into the background.

  “How do I have it wrong Anna? You killed our child. You paid the shop owner, you took the pills; I have the photograph as proof. You took everything from me.” He breathed

  But through the ringing in his ears, Anna protested, her words cutting through to be heard. “I didn’t kill our child Canice, I didn’t. I didn’t know what I was given. He told me it was good, that it would help the baby.” Anna insisted and McQueen suddenly felt a cold flood of doubt. He’d been so sure for years, so, so sure… “I never wanted to lose our baby. I never wanted to lose you.”

  McQueen allowed Anna to step close, his mind spinning with all the possibilities. Could he have been that wrong…?

  “Liar.”

  McQueen blinked, and suddenly Echo was back in the room. Of course, she didn’t have the social graces to givean arguing couple the space they needed like any normal person would. Even more so, she didn’t have the graces to get dressed and strolled through the apartment in nothing but a very short towel. He could see Anna looking at Echo is disgust, her eyes throwing daggers.

  Anna needn’t have worried though, all McQueen could look at was the bruises that dotted her skin. Black spots, green spots, blue and yellow; almost every piece of shown skin was covered. It made McQueen cringe as he saw her back, the top of her spine purple, with black shadows where her bones lay under her skin.

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Anna asked, her focus turning from McQueen to Echo.

  “You and I both know you’re a liar. You knew exactly what was in that pill he gave you.” Echo wandered to the fridge bending at the waist to dig to the back which caused the towel to ride up ever further.

  “I am not lying.” Suddenly turning back to McQueen, Anna’s eyes fluttered, “I’m not lying Canice. He lied to me, he told me it would help the baby grow; to be strong.”

  “You’re joking?” Echo asked, popping a can of fizzy soda and took a sip. “You had no idea that an illegal, black market shop on the outer edge of Dublin just might be a little dubious?” Echo laughed again and pointed at McQueen, directing her next question at him. “Do you know how she even found the shop?”

  McQueen’s bottom lip gapped open, but it was true he didn’t know. “How did you find the shop Anna?” He asked.

  “I – I didn’t. I was-… I was referred, by a friend. They told me. They told me I could get stuff that would make the baby better.” Anna explained, her lie growing with more confidence the more she built on it, but McQueen's heart grew heavier as he listened. He’d been through this before; criminals lying, covering themselves and diggi
ng a bigger hole as they went, building lies upon lies. But this wasn’t just any criminal, it was his wife…