The Case of the Singing Sword (The Billibub Baddings Mysteries)

by Tee Morris

  Filing that nugget away, I went on. “So being the lowly volunteer, how did you manage to get a glimpse of it, let alone get access to these sensitive wires?”

  “You’ve met Dr. Hammil. You’ve seen the condition of his office. I tried to find reasons to go there so I could catch a glance at what was on his desk.” She chuckled, quite pleased with her resourcefulness. “I assure you, Billi, I wasn’t supposed to be on the inside of anything. Hammil loved to make it clear that I was only a volunteer. When acquisitions arrive from various digs, I merely assist with the registering and tagging. Nothing more than busy work, but it would still infuriate my father if he were ever to find out I’m connected with an institution he despises so much. It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up, menial as the administrative work is, because any experience at The Ryerson is bound to lead me on to bigger and better things. Besides,” she added with a suggestive wink, “sometimes I could push that envelope with Hammil and extend the boundaries of my position.”

  Being the looker she was, I bet she pushed pretty hard. “So how much could you get away with?”

  She grinned modestly. “Oh, not as much as you would think. But I did get an inside peek at Acquisitions from time to time. When the Singing Sword arrived, I was at the right place at the right time. I was the only volunteer in Acquisitions that day, along with two full-time staff members.” She paused, a smile absently forming on her face at the memory. “Billi, you should have seen it. It looked liked as if it had been created only yesterday. Not a single scratch, blemish, or mark on it. All of us were taken by it.”

  The smile faded, and so did the wonder in her voice. “Hammil was apparently expecting its arrival, but he’d gotten caught in traffic across town. I’d never seen him so angry when he caught us cataloging it. He swore to fire all of us—even me, the volunteer—if word got out that the Singing Sword had arrived. It was pretty frightening, Billi. For a moment, I thought he was actually going to use it on us!

  “The next day, I was barred from Acquisitions altogether. It was back to sorting books and taking head counts of school groups.”

  So, Doc Hammil wasn’t beyond threatening a Lesinger? He really did think this Sword was his ticket. And to assure her silence along with two other staff members? He must’ve been a real demon that day!

  “Doesn’t sound like the most exciting of jobs.” This girl could have whatever she wanted in life, and yet she chose to suffer in the trenches at the Ryerson. She had to have a good reason. “So why did you stay?”

  “Because my father has mandated that I stay in Chicago,” she replied with a sigh. “If I leave, I am on my own…financially as well as personally. I’ve been fascinated by ancient cultures and relics ever since I was a little girl, visiting the castles of Europe and the pyramids of Egypt, and I excelled in art and anthropology classes at college. The Ryerson is the best place to explore all of those interests at once.”

  “Not the only place, Julie.”

  “No, but the best, even as a volunteer cataloguing rare finds. Had Dr. Hammil simply told my father what he wanted to hear about our family’s lineage, I could have held a very prominent position at The Ryerson.” Her face twisted in disgust. “But my position—such as it is—was still lofty enough to catch the attention of a mobster. I guess it’s true what they say about institutions of higher learning.”

  “What do the all-knowing ‘they’ say?” I asked.

  “That you trade common sense for a college degree,” she smirked. “You would think I am smart enough to tell when I’m being played.”

  “Considering the way tonight went for me, I can tell you this: It happens to the best of us.”

  Julie winked at me. “I should have warned you about Eva. She loved to join Tony and me whenever she was in town, and she was either Benny’s date or some guy named Paul…Pauley…something like that. It was pathetic watching her try and wedge herself between the two of us. I put nothing past her.”

  After tonight, neither would I.

  I also wouldn’t have put anything past Julie Lesinger. Not that Julie was in the same class as Eva, mind you; I’m just dwarf enough to admit that my first impression of her being the “spoiled rich bitch” was far from accurate. For one thing, I hadn’t pinned her as someone passionate about academic pursuits. From the pictures in the news rags, she seemed more prone to hot jazz, cocktails, and parties that outlasted the night—not researching and identifying treasure from ancient tombs. Second, I had to grudgingly acknowledge the luck she possessed. To be a volunteer who, at best, was given the grunt work no one else wanted, and she winds up being one of the few people in Chicago to see the Singing Sword? Not bad, Julie. Not bad. Wish I had that kind of luck when rolling the bones!

  “You know, Julie, just because ol’ Sam Hammil believed himself on a higher plane didn’t mean it was the truth. I think the Doc was as much in the dark on the Singing Sword mystery as anyone.”

  “Really? What makes you say that?”

  “Let’s just say we had a heart-to-heart over it before he died. All he was certain of was its worth to his reputation. If he were able to figure out how the Singing Sword came to appear in an Ancient Egyptian tomb, it would be an accomplishment that would shake things up in his academic circles, plus it would get him out from under the thumb of whoever was keeping him in the black market.”

  I took another long drag before continuing with a hunch I needed to play concerning Julie and her take on tonight…not to mention her earlier comments about Hammil. “Like this merger between your father and Rothchild. Quite an accomplishment, it sounds like.”

  As she looked down on me (strictly a height thing, in this case), Julia kept her cigarette close, the smoke easing its way from between her lips.

  “A blessing?” She shook her head, trying not to laugh. “Do you know why this merger is happening?”

  I didn’t bother to shake my head. I had a feeling Julie was going to tell me either way. She was wound up like a clockwork scene moving as fast as the music and its gears could run.

  “Neither the Rothchilds nor the Lesingers had boys. Just me and Eva. Our fathers, in between their bouts of outdoing and out-donating one another, have been trying to figure out what to do with the empires they have built. After all, women do not make good businessmen.”

  “Does Eva share your disdain of this merger?”

  “You were standing next to her when her father made that ‘grandchildren’ wisecrack. Both our fathers are hoping beyond hope we’ll get married before they die, so they can pass on the business to their sons-in-laws or male grandchildren.” Julie gave me a smirk. “I suppose we turned out to be disappointments, Mr. Baddings.”

  “Billi. Mr. Baddings makes me sound like my father,” I said with a wink.

  “Billi.” Her smile suited her. She should do it more often, I thought to myself as she went on.

  “My father would have been a happier man if I were his son, and not his daughter. But at least I am my own person, and not pretending to be something else merely to please daddy…unlike my counterpart.”

  “Well, your counterpart will be facing a disappointment in her future equal to that of discovering the Singing Sword without getting the credit. I’ll bet you a coffer of gold coins she’ll be sauntering into my office first thing Monday morning, so sure I have lost a somewhat profitable client that she’ll probably try and undercut my normal fee.”

  “What makes you think I’m not going to fire you now, Billi?” Julia asked, a dark eyebrow slowly arching as she took another long draw from her cigarette, bathing her face in a warm orange glow.

  “Well, the fact that you’re calling me ‘Billi,’ that you’re still talking to me, and that you’re wearing a sweet smile are all subtle hints that you’re not too pissed. So now that you at least know the ‘why’ behind Tony DeMayo’s passing, I guess the only thing for me to do now is close this case and bill you for services rendered.”

  She took one final puff of the cigarette before dropp
ing it to the stone floor of the patio, grinding it out with a single, quick twist of her high-heeled foot. “You’re right, Billi. At least now I know that Tony was killed over the Singing Sword, even if the rest of the answers remain out of reach.”

  “Spoken like a true apprentice,” I said with a confident nod.

  Her eyes stayed with mine for a moment, and I gave a delighted chuckle. Julie had just unwittingly quoted a good number of apprentices I’ve known in my day. It was always the apprentice’s duty to shuttle weapons, books, and the assorted talismans back and forth from a study to a battlefield, always watching from the dugout when the mages cast those “home run” spells. It was not out of the ordinary to hear an apprentice say something like “The Stone of Ifyea remains out of reach.” Gotta love those apprentices.

  “Sorry, that’s just a saying I heard a lot when I was growing up,” I explained. “About things being out of reach, I mean.”

  “Must have been one interesting place where you grew up, Billi.” She smiled warmly.

  I decided to test the waters. “Well, I won’t lie to you…mountain dragons were a severe pain in the ass.”

  Julia let out a titter, shaking her head in exasperation at my hometown references. “Billi, what are you talking about?”

  “Those things get cranky and stay cranky until food is brought to them, and in many cases, that food takes the form of some virginal sacrifice. Still, an easier choice compared to the other option.”

  “Okay, I’ll play in your imagination for a spell.” Her head tilted to one side, sending a few locks of midnight-black hair across her forehead. “And what was the other option?”

  “Send in the exterminators.”

  I tapped my pipe on the heel of my polished black shoes and placed it back in my jacket’s inner pocket. It was time to head on inside, if not head on home. “Julie,” I said with a polite smile, “it was definitely an experience working for you. I’m going to call a cab, then call it a night. I’ll write up a final bill for you Monday morning.”

  “Billi, there’s no reason for you to call for a cab. Considering how dull my father’s friends are, you will probably be asleep somewhere in the estate by the time it gets here. Believe me, I know these types. The Egyptian mummies I cataloged for the Ryerson are livelier than this crowd. I’ll have my driver take you home.”

  “I appreciate that, Julie.” And I did. A cab ride from here would severely bite into the profits of this case.

  “Look for a silver-grey car, black top, pulling up in, say, ten minutes?”

  “See your driver in ten.” I nodded. “Good night.”

  Julie seemed to float back into the party like a wraith across the battlements of a haunted watchtower, her head lifted slightly and a gentle hand raised in greeting—a greeting that eventually came to rest on another’s shoulder. One of those obtuse “friends of the family,” no doubt. Now that she was in the light of the Lesinger mansion, I could enjoy the sight of her before she moved off to call for her driver. She was still my Lady Trouble, I knew that for sure, because she was bringing back to me an aspect of my life that I thought was far behind me and best left there.

  The final bill from Julie would hold Miranda and the business well off for a few months, and I didn’t foresee any extravagant expenses in tracking down the Sword. I had to keep a profile so low that a Trysillian swamp worm would look tall to me. Still, there was some solace in realizing I had closed this case and managed to stay above ground. I must be getting better at this detective thing.

  Too bad the whole “private” part of this job prevented me from sounding my own war horn over this. “Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, hire the only dwarf able to poke his pudgy nose into Al Capone’s business and live to talk about it!” It would make one hell of a radio advertisement.

  Just thinking his name slapped me harder than a mace. Capone would probably give me a few weeks of peace, and then expect me to begin my new job as his personal advisor in finding and handling the Singing Sword. What the hell did I really know about it? Not much, other than “only the meek and mild could wield it”, the body count was rising, and no one—including the self-proclaimed expert—knew where it was in the Greater Chicago area. Now, I could see that black sand of Death slowly slipping from the top chamber to the bottom in the hourglass of borrowed time, and it was slipping pretty fast.

  A crisp chill, probably coming off one of the Great Lakes, pinched me on the cheek as I stood once again on the stone steps of the estate’s entrance, where this evening had started for me a few hours ago. I had to give Little Miss Eva an amount of credit for dreaming up this evening, a sure-fire way to get me right where I live. Instead of parting with a chunk of change for a tux, a client, and a taxicab ride home, I was getting a chauffeur for the return trip too. Not bad, Baddings, I thought to myself. You were riding with the Guardians tonight.

  The silver-grey limousine pulled up, its lights flashing for a moment in my eyes as it pulled around the circle of the driveway. A ride worthy of a Dwarven emperor or Elvish king, only nicer! The limo stood out from the other ebony chariots patiently awaiting their masters. I got a nod from the driver, who stayed put and readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. With a soft click-click, the passenger door opened automatically. Neat trick, I thought. The driver didn’t look like a magician.

  The magic that opened that door had a different kind of power altogether, and I paused before climbing into the cabin of the limo, raising a bushy eyebrow at the sorceress responsible for the trick.

  “Sorry for the wait, Billi,” Julie Lesinger smiled. “I had to say goodbye to some people and then sneak out the servant’s entrance so I wouldn’t get an earful from Daddy.”

  “He won’t mind you coming into town at this hour?”

  “I’ll be surprised if he notices my absence. Right now, my father’s priorities are getting the best photo opportunities.” She slid to the opposite end of the long seat. “Your chariot awaits, Mr. Baddings.”

  Step into my parlor, said the drinék to the valley thir.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Things You Hear at Mick's

  The limousine rocked lightly as I hopped inside. Once the valet shut the door behind me, I gave the driver my home address—modest in comparison to the mansion I was leaving behind, but still my own little hovel in the great concrete grove that was Chicago.

  Even with the absence of street lamps and interior lighting, I could still make out her form across from me. Wearing a dark crown of curls that gently cascaded down the back of her neck and across her shoulders, she was a vision that I wouldn’t doubt could persuade men to charge into battle, straight to their deaths. It was the kind of beauty that inspired loyalty, devotion, desire. (Well, the last part, for sure. I couldn’t help but feel an urge kicking up from parts of me that hadn’t known a woman’s touch for quite some time.)

  Julie Lesinger was still cut from the same cloth as Eva, so I couldn’t let that urge for even a tiny “tavern tickle” throw me off-guard. She had her reasons for accompanying me all the way into town. It was hardly for my company, stimulating as it might be. (She didn’t strike me as a baseball kind of gal.) I wanted to know why she was here, and I knew if I were patient enough, she’d come around and tell me.

  All right, screw patience! Hell, I’m a dwarf. We aren’t known for it.

  “Mind if I ask why you’re taking this ride with me, Julie?”

  “Perhaps I wanted assurance that you made it back to your place safely.”

  “I’m a big boy; I can take care of myself.”

  She gave a snicker. Probably at the “big boy” comment. Eh, let it slide, Baddings.

  After a few moments of staring at the distant city lights, she finally said, “Perhaps I’ve been thinking about your closing the case on Monday.”

  I tugged at my bowtie, letting it fall loose around my neck. “Julie, you wanted to know the why behind Tony’s demise, and you got it. What more do you want?”

  “Billi, this Singi
ng Sword that Tony died trying to steal is nothing more than a catalogue number, some inscriptions on a blade that no one can read, and a mystery without an answer. Why would Tony risk his neck on something like this? Why would a mobster like Capone want something like the Singing Sword? And why would Tony double-cross his boss when he was next in line to succeed him?”

  She turned away from me again, and I could just make out her ghostly reflection in the car window. “This must be the frustrated academic in me. I’m not satisfied with the answers, so I continue to ask questions.”

  “I wish I could tell you more.”

  Yeah, I did. I wanted to tell her that DeMayo bit off more of his boss’ power than he could chew, and Capone made him choke on it. I wanted to tell her all about the Singing Sword and its immense power—power that was attracting the attention of everyone from Gangland bosses to our own beloved Uncle Sam. How could I explain to her, an inquisitive mind in a society ready to keep her barefoot and pregnant in a glitzy castle somewhere, that what she already knew was more than enough?

  She spoke up again before I could. “In some strange way, I loved him. I truly did. It wasn’t true love, nor was he a prince on a white horse, but that didn’t mean I slept with him because he was convenient. When we were alone, things were…different. I suppose I let myself believe he was genuinely interested.” She bowed her head with a spiteful laugh. “The higher you ascend in social circles, the harder sincerity is to come by.”

  “It’s harder still when you walk among thieves, rogues, and highwaymen, Julie.”

  She turned to look at me. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I believed we had something that was never there. Or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself I wasn’t part of Tony’s plan to break into the Ryerson.”