“Yes.”
“Guess I’ll see you there. You can meet Isis. I’m sure the two of you will hit it off.”
“Maybe.” Emma hurried away to the elevator. She took it not up to her office but down to the sub-subbasement of the museum. Back in the 1950s the cavern beneath the museum had been converted into a bomb shelter that a decade later was forgotten, except by Percival Graves, the previous Scarlet Knight. Mr. Graves had turned the bomb shelter into a hideout known as the Sanctuary, from which the Scarlet Knight could monitor the city for crime.
Emma pushed aside a fake wall to enter the Sanctuary; with its expensive computer equipment she used to watch for crime in Rampart City. At the moment she had little interest in the screens; instead she collapsed on the chair and turned to face the wall.
Marlin drifted through the ceiling to stare down at her. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Oh, I see. One of those problems. Maybe it would help if I told you—”
“Just leave me alone. Please?”
“Fine. I was only trying to help.” The ghost grumbled to himself as he disappeared back through the ceiling, which left Emma to cry by herself.
***
She was surprised to find Becky at Mrs. Chiostro’s shop after work. In addition, Becky had brought her two younger sisters, who were the other bridesmaids. Despite being handicapped with the names Brandi and Bambi that sounded appropriate for strippers, Becky’s sisters were goodhearted girls, raised mostly by their older siblings. Bambi went to Rampart City Community College for a nursing degree while Brandi worked as a barista in a coffeehouse while she waited for a publisher to take note of her poetry.
Brandi was also the tallest of her three sisters, as tall as Emma. Brandi usually dyed her hair some garish color, but for the wedding she had let it go back to its natural light brown. She had even—no doubt with some elbow twisting on Becky’s part—taken the rings out of her nose and eyebrows. It was Brandi who met Emma at the door with a scowl; Emma wondered if it would take more elbow twisting to get her to smile for the wedding photos. “The others are in the back,” Brandi said, her voice so low that Emma almost didn’t hear her.
In the parlor, Bambi tried on her lavender dress. Despite Mrs. Chiostro’s best efforts, the gown didn’t really flatter Bambi, who shared her older sister’s chubby frame; while she didn’t weigh as much as Becky, Bambi was shorter so that she looked heavier. Her arms especially looked big in the sleeveless dress. If she noticed this, she gave no sign. The baby of the Beech clan, Bambi had always had a cheery disposition to set her siblings at ease. “Emma! Isn’t it beautiful?” Bambi said.
“It looks great on you,” Emma said. Beside her, Brandi snorted at this.
“Of course not nearly so good as it’ll look on you.”
“I don’t know about that.” Emma cleared her throat and then asked, “Have you seen Mrs. Chiostro? I need to see her.”
“She and Becky went to make some alterations to her dress,” Bambi said. “I told her she looked fine, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You think everyone looks fine. You think bums look fine,” Brandi growled.
“I don’t think you look fine when you wear that leather vampire outfit of yours.”
“It’s not a vampire outfit. It’s Goth.”
“Girls, please, don’t argue,” Mrs. Chiostro said. She emerged from a back room, followed closely behind by Becky, who was clad in her wedding dress.
“Emma, what are you doing here?”
“I needed to see Mrs. Chiostro about a dress.”
“Is there something wrong with it? It’s a little late—”
“Not that dress. There’s a gala at the museum. The director expects me to go.”
The old witch’s face lit up at this. “A gala, how exciting! Come, dear, let’s go find you something special.”
Something special from Mrs. Chiostro’s inventory usually meant it was a gown some famous woman had died in. The old witch guided Emma along rows of dresses, some of which dated back nearly a century. Emma suspected Mrs. Chiostro—who was over five hundred years old—kept much older gowns in her attic for when they came back into fashion.
On this occasion the old witch stopped at a silky white gown. She held this up to Emma’s body and then clucked her tongue. “I think that’s about your size,” she said. As always, Mrs. Chiostro’s judgment was correct. The white dress didn’t reveal much; it flowed from her neck to her ankles in classical lines that put Emma in mind of something in an ancient Greek statue. “Simple and elegant. Just like you, my dear.”
“You think so?”
“Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“No.” Emma turned in the mirror and wondered what Dan would think of this dress. When he saw her in it maybe he would remember how much he had loved her; maybe he would realize what a mistake it was to have married this Isis person. Despite her best efforts, she began to cry again.
“Is something wrong with the dress?”
“No, I love it.” Emma sank down on a stool. “Have you ever been jealous of someone?”
“Oh, certainly. You don’t live as long as I have without meeting the green-eyed monster on occasion.” The old woman put a hand around Emma’s shoulder. “What’s the matter, dear?”
Emma told her about Dan’s return to the city with this Isis person. The old witch shook her head as she listened to this story. “Now, dear, I told you when you used that potion it was going to come back to haunt you.”
“I’m sorry. I thought it was for the best.”
“It isn’t for us to make those kind of decisions.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Emma wiped at her nose and felt like a child again. “What should I do?”
“Be happy for him, dear. It’s very difficult to find someone you love as much as Dan loves this woman. You should know that.” The old witch gave Emma’s shoulder a squeeze. “I know it will be difficult, but you have to try. Otherwise that jealousy will eat you alive.”
As she thought back to lunch, Emma understood this. She had become a different person, petty and cruel. That was unbecoming behavior especially for the Scarlet Knight. “Thank you.” She stood up again. “What do I owe you for the dress?”
“Let’s go with our usual rate: two hundred, which includes shoes.”
“OK.”
“Now, why don’t you go out there and show it to Rebecca and her sisters?”
Emma nodded and returned to the parlor, where Becky and her sisters had changed into their normal clothes. As expected, Becky smiled at the sight of the dress. “That looks great, kid.”
“It does,” Bambi seconded.
“It’s plain,” Brandi said. That she didn’t say anything harsher Emma took as a compliment.
“Thanks,” Emma said. Though when she looked in the mirror again, she imagined herself in a veil along with the white dress. Then she imagined Dan next to her. She shook her head; this would be a difficult fight.
***
After she said goodbye to Becky and her sisters—who were going out for dinner and then a movie since it was one of the rare occasions when they were all in the same place—Emma found a cure for some of her rage. All she needed to do was put on the scarlet armor and then belt the first purse-snatcher she came across. It gave Emma a perverse thrill to knee him in the crotch hard enough to make his eyes roll back into his head. “Serves you right,” she growled as she tied him up for the police to take into custody later.
After that, Emma searched elsewhere for crime. She had never so badly wanted to find criminals. Work was always a good way to deflect pain; it had served her well to cope with the murder of her parents. If she focused on her duty as the Scarlet Knight, she wouldn’t have to worry about Emma Earl’s feelings towards Dan—and his new wife.
As she jumped across one of the many alleys in Rampart City, Emma heard someone scream. She threw herself off the rooftop and used the cape as she had the night b
efore to parachute down to the ground. By the time she reached the ground, she knew she was too late.
A homeless man lay in the alley; his glassy eyes stared up at her. Though not a medical doctor, Emma didn’t need any expertise to know the man was dead. Whoever had attacked him had sliced the heart right out of his body and left a bloody hole in his chest. Emma used the visor to look down the alley. There were no prints, which was a surprise given the amount of muck in the alley.
Then she heard footsteps running away. Emma took off after the sound and closed the gap to see a shadow projected against one wall. Even when she used her boots for a jump she couldn’t catch up to the murderer. She never got a glimpse of anything more than that vague shadow on the wall. The sound of footsteps retreated to leave Emma standing alone in the alley.
She shook her head sadly. She had seen more than her fair share of brutal murders, but nothing like this. Why would anyone do such a thing? But there was no answer. She could only focus harder on her work to make sure it didn’t happen to anyone else that night.
Chapter 4
Thursday night came faster than Emma would have liked. She hurried from work to the apartment to change into the white dress. To complement the simple elegance of the dress, she wore her tiny diamond earrings and a thin gold necklace. Becky helped her put her hair up and then sighed. “You look great, kid. I hope I look half as good next Saturday.”
“Thanks.” Becky wore a conservative black dress. She and Emma would go with Steve in his car, a much better way to get there than Emma’s motorcycle and much cheaper than a cab. “Are you sure it’s dressy enough?”
“Come on, kid, when has Mrs. Chiostro ever steered you wrong? If she says it’s good enough then it is, right?”
“I guess.”
“That’s the spirit. Now let’s go. You don’t want to be late for your big event.”
“I thought it was good to be fashionably late.”
“Not if you’re the hostess. Let’s go.”
The hostess. Emma cringed at those words. She had never been a hostess for anything in her life, content to always remain in the background. The idea of being the center of attention was enough to give her hives. She wished she could call for the scarlet armor and use the golden cape to make herself invisible.
Steve waited for them down on the street. His rusty Stratus didn’t make an ideal carriage for this event, but it would be good enough. He leaned across the front seat to give Becky a kiss—a rather deep kiss. Emma politely looked down at her feet, though she could still hear them. Once they finished, Steve looked back at her in the mirror. “You look great,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said again.
“Come on, honey, let’s get Cinderella to the ball.”
Emma blushed again. She might be Cinderella, but there would be no Prince Charming for her at the ball. He was already married to one of the ugly stepsisters. Emma chided herself for this thought. She remembered what Mrs. Chiostro had said about being happy for Dan and Isis’s love. She should be happy she had been able to bring them together.
They arrived early; Steve parked the car in Emma’s spot. The director waited for them inside the entrance. She greeted Becky and Steve with a curt nod. Then she took Emma by the arm to lead her away from her friends. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Never mind.” She took Emma over to the ticket counter to deposit her there. “Just wait here to greet our guests as they come in. Make sure to give them a big smile.” Emma tried a smile for the director, who clucked her tongue. “Bigger, if you can.” Emma smiled until her cheeks ached. “That will have to do.”
With this jaw breaking smile in place, Emma began to meet the guests. She recognized many of them as the heavy hitters in business and politics in the city. Among them was Councilwoman Napier, Becky’s boss. She was an older woman, her hair a steel gray that along with the string of pearls and shawl gave her a matronly appearance. This was largely for effect as the councilwoman didn’t have any children. “Good evening, madam councilwoman,” Emma said. She enunciated the words with difficulty through the terrible smile. “I’m Dr. Emma Earl, assistant director of the Plaine Museum—”
“Yes, I remember we met five years ago. I can’t thank you enough for recommending Rebecca to me. She’s been such a good assistant.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Becky has always worked hard.”
“I’ll say. I’m a little disappointed I’m going to lose her for a week.” When Emma’s smile faded at this, Napier touched her arm. “I’m kidding, young lady. I’m very happy for Rebecca and Steven.”
“So am I.”
“I ought to go and find them,” Napier said. She shook Emma’s hand. “It was good to see you again, Dr. Earl.”
It took the better part of an hour for her to greet the guests. With a sigh of relief she finally stopped smiling and put a hand to her sore cheeks. Then the doors opened and there stood Dan—and his wife.
***
Dan’s wife was everything Emma had feared. She was beautiful, with lustrous black hair and glowing bronze skin. She had put her hair up in a style very similar to Emma’s. To make things worse, she too wore a simple white dress, one nearly identical to the one Mrs. Chiostro had picked out for Emma. The only difference came with the shoes—the woman wore simple sandals to expose dainty feet with well-manicured toenails.
Emma couldn’t bring herself to smile as Dan and his bride approached. “Hello,” she said gloomily. “This must be your wife.”
“That’s right. This is Isis.”
The woman turned to Emma and for the first time Emma could see the woman’s eyes. They were black, the irises seemingly darker than the pupils. “Dan says you’re quite a brilliant girl,” Isis said.
“He said the same thing about you.”
“I’m sure he did.” Isis’s flat tone indicated this was not a joke. Emma felt her lip curl at this woman’s haughtiness. She had probably found out what Emma planned to wear in advance to show her up. A moment later Emma reminded herself there was no way for Isis to know about the white dress.
“I hope you two have an enjoyable time,” Emma said.
“We will,” Isis said. As she pulled Dan away, Isis winked at Emma. Emma had to clamp down harder on the edge of the ticket counter so she wouldn’t charge after Dan’s wife to fight her in the main gallery of the Plaine Museum.
She was saved by the director, who took Emma by the arm again. “Dr. Earl, there are some people you must meet.” From the way the director tugged on her, Emma supposed she didn’t have much choice in the matter.
One of those she had to meet was the CEO for the city’s largest brokerage firm. Emma often suspected Don Vendetta used the firm to launder some of her dirty money, but as yet she had been unable to prove it. “This is our assistant director, Dr. Emma Earl,” the director said.
She chatted with the CEO for a few minutes about mortgage derivatives, a subject on which she seemed to know more than the banker. “It’s all very technical,” the CEO said. “You must have your share of technical issues around here, running the museum.”
“I don’t really run the museum,” she said.
“Yes, of course, you’re only the assistant director. It’s only a matter of time I suppose.”
“I don’t know about that.”
The director swooped in to pull Emma away. “Now, Henry, don’t plant ideas in the girl’s head or you’ll find me floating facedown in the harbor.”
Emma paled at this, as she thought of Don Vendetta and her crew. Were any of them facedown in the harbor yet? She would have to find out later. She didn’t get any more time at the present to consider it as the director pulled her away to meet a wealthy heiress who wasn’t more than Emma’s age.
The heiress pouted when the director introduced Emma. “Isn’t there anyone famous here? This party is so boring.”
“I’m sorry,” Emma said. Before she could get another word in, t
he heiress began to detail a dozen much better parties she had attended in Los Angeles, London, and Paris. Emma wanted to pull herself away from the tedious girl, but couldn’t with the director nearby. She could only nod and smile as the director had instructed.
This went on for over another hour, until at last Emma met up with Becky and Steve. “You all right, kid?” Becky asked. “You look like hell.”
“I’m—” Before she could finish, the band began to play a waltz and suddenly Emma felt much worse. Dan was out on the makeshift dance floor with Isis. The way they swept around the floor was like something out of a fairy tale, the effect so spellbinding that the other couples stood aside to let them dance.
As she watched them, Emma couldn’t help but remember an alternate timeline over three years ago where she and Dan had been married. They had glided around this very same floor, though perhaps not as elegantly as Dan and Isis. Emma still remembered the warmth of his body pressed against hers—
Like Cinderella, Emma bolted from the gala, though she didn’t lose a shoe. Becky called after her, but Emma didn’t turn back.
***
In a major victory for the legal system, the judge denied Lydia Vendetta’s bail request. This meant Lieutenant Donovan would have unfettered access to the don, a privilege she planned to take advantage of. She opened the door to the interrogation room to see Don Vendetta sat calmly in the chair. Next to her sat a rat-faced woman who could only be the don’s lawyer.
“My client isn’t going to tell you anything,” the lawyer said.
Lieutenant Donovan shrugged. She straddled a chair opposite the don to look the monster in the eye. “That’s fine. Maybe I’ll tell you a few things.” Don Vendetta said nothing, as if she were catatonic. “All right, if that’s how you want to play it. We have a truckload of stolen computers. We have you at the wheel of the truck carrying those computers. It’s not looking good for you.”
“Your evidence was obtained illegally,” the lawyer said. “My client was assaulted by a vigilante known as the Scarlet Knight. A vigilante in your employ.”
“I’m not responsible for what any vigilantes do. Care to explain why your client was meeting with two known felons who were in possession of those computers?”
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 58