The Queen of Diamonds

by Patricia Loofbourrow

  Back then, I didn't see any reason to care about Anastasia's scam, other than concerns for the safety of anyone associated with Frank and Jack. So she defrauded some merchants. What was that to me? The fact that she involved Mr. Durak did upset me, especially her doing so while he grieved his wife.

  But I couldn't understand the violence. What did whoever directed Jack Diamond and Frank Pagliacci stand to gain from that? What pushed this ringleader to move from breaking into a shop and causing a mess to kidnapping and murder?

  Jack Diamond in Spadros, harassing merchants and widows. What could cause him to do that, when he normally would have (by his reputation) simply murdered them? Frank Pagliacci strangling a grown man this time. Why change his targets?

  And why was the group so afraid of being revealed?

  None of this made any sense.

  We went over the bridge to Spadros quadrant. Sailboats passed under us, sending pale gray ripples over clear water.

  I suddenly remembered Roy's letter to Tony:

  You must allow me to take over this interrogation to learn the truth of the matter.

  Tony never answered that letter. And when Roy learned that these men used our money to finance their schemes, he would be furious. He must have his men feverously searching for them.

  I laughed. Jack and Frank must be terrified! Being pursued by Roy Spadros would produce a crisis for anyone. No wonder they were trying to cover their tracks.

  Perhaps the tide had finally turned in our favor.

  The Betrayal

  When I returned home, Pearson had a letter for me:

  I have news. — JB

  JB had to be Jake Bower, the investigator I hired to learn about Jack Diamond's movements since New Year's.

  I poured a glass of bourbon and lit a cigarette. The thought of going to meet Mr. Bower made me weary. All I wanted was a few days to rest, to forget about Mad Jack Diamond and his deranged ruffian Frank Pagliacci. Which seemed unlikely to happen.

  Where could Frank Pagliacci be? Besides Anastasia, none of my other informants had any word of him. Clearly he hadn't fled the city. Was Jack hiding him? Jack had taken to his rooms; might Frank be hiding there also?

  No. With Jack and Rachel ill and Jon out of the house, Julius wouldn't allow a stranger to stay with them. Gardena would have said something about a visitor, especially one as badly injured as Frank must have been. And I couldn't see Jonathan allowing a stranger to go to their Country House.

  Why did Julius put up with Jack's behavior? That was another mystery. He had to know that ...

  Wait, I thought. Jack, by all accounts, was as fearsome a creature as Roy Spadros. Perhaps Julius used his son's madness to keep order in the city, or to frighten the other Families from acting against them. It was the sort of sly move that wouldn't surprise me, coming from a Patriarch.

  These men were utterly ruthless when it came to controlling their territories. But could a man stoop to betraying his son, exposing his son's malady just to promote his own schemes?

  ***

  I got my "rest" after all. For two days, Tony was entrenched in his study with an unassuming young man who I presumed was the accountant he hired. Even though engaged, Tony came out every half hour to ask me some question or another. The constant interruptions were maddening; I could go nowhere and got little done, other than my weekly kitchen inventory with the maids.

  But then Tony went back to the casino. Dr. Salmon came to check on Morton — the first time he visited since Morton's arrival without Tony or one of his men hovering.

  After the doctor visited Morton, I asked if we might speak privately. We went to my room, and sat at the tea-table.

  "I hope all is well?"

  I said nothing.

  "My dear, something is wrong, or you wouldn't have asked for me. Please, I want to help you."

  "Sir, I believe you have betrayed me."

  Dr. Salmon's lined face grew pale, and his eyes widened.

  "I asked you to keep silent about Roy Spadros and his attack on me. I specifically asked you not to tell my husband, yet you did. I trusted you not to notify Roy about the attack on my husband, yet somehow he knew. You report to my husband. You report to Mr. Roy. Who else do you report to? How can I trust you with anything?"

  Dr. Salmon's voice shook. "I'm your doctor. I report to no one. I didn't tell Mr. Roy about the assault, I swear."

  I realized: this man is old. And deeply afraid.

  "Mr. Anthony beat me," he whispered.

  Tony did what?

  He spoke as if to himself, his eyes empty. "I brought him to this world, and his father before him — yet he beat me. He so fiercely wanted to learn what had befallen you that I feared for my life." He paused. "He swore no harm would come to you." He leaned forward, peering at me. "Has he hurt you?"

  Tony beat Dr. Salmon. I turned away, shame flooding over me. "No."

  If I would have told Tony that Roy hit me, this would never have happened. But I felt so afraid ... of Roy hurting Tony, of Tony asking why Roy would hit me ... which would lead to telling him of my failure with Thrace Pike last month. That was humiliating enough without Tony going into a frenzy about it. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

  Dr. Salmon didn't speak for some time, and when he did, he sounded sincere. "I wish I knew how to help."

  Find me a way out of this city? All I could hope for at this point was to get my mother to safety.

  But there was something he might help with. "Doctor, may I ask something unrelated?"

  "Of course."

  "Mrs. Rachel Diamond. Do you know of her case?"

  He nodded. "Mr. Julius Diamond sought counsel from every doctor in the city before his father died."

  "Can anything be done for her?"

  The doctor shook his head. "She's suffered electrocution of the brain. There's little to be done in such cases."

  Something occurred to me. "They were working on a machine, trying to put their brain patterns into it when the accident occurred. Do you imagine her thoughts might be in the machine still?"

  Dr. Salmon burst out in laughter. "Oh, my dear, your mind is exquisite. You should take up the writing of fantastical novels! Such a thing is absurd." But then his face sobered. "No, Mrs. Diamond is gravely injured, and has been for some time. I'm sorry. I doubt she'll ever recover."

  I felt somewhat embarrassed, as well as sad. I remembered Gardena's grief, and her mother Rachel, a beautiful woman who used to be an Apprentice, trying to eat lamb with a spoon. "I just hoped ... that maybe ... she might get well."

  ***

  The doctor released Morton to do light reading and stroll in the garden, which he felt anxious to do. I accompanied him, just to get a chance to plan what to do next about Frank Pagliacci.

  Since our discussion up in Morton's room, Tony seemed to regard him as one of his men. Yet Tony and Sawbuck had been in meetings at least once a day without either of us, to what end, Tony didn't say.

  "I feel," Morton said, "that your husband doesn't trust me."

  The sun shone pale and wan through the clouds, yet the day was warm. I carried a parasol, but doubted I would need it. "Does it matter?"

  He glanced back at Amelia and her daughters, who "by coincidence" were out strolling that day. "I suppose not."

  We walked a foot apart and in plain view of the house. What did Pearson think was going to happen? "Why did you leave us, there at the factory?"

  Morton let out a breath. "There were so many men, and they thought you were no threat. I reasoned that if I drew them off, you and the boy might escape."

  "But why take the carriage?"

  He seemed confused. "I was hurt; you were unharmed. If I tried to hire a taxi, the driver would insist on taking me to a doctor, and the police would have been called. The boy needed attention in any case, and I felt certain you had someone you might bring him to who would be discreet."

  I nodded. True, every word. "I'm sorry to doubt you. I ... I don't think I was doing much reason
ing at the time."

  Morton smiled. "You did fine."

  "There's one other thing. Why did you use that story about Helen Hart? It's come to cause me trouble."

  He turned to me. "In what way?"

  "A mutual friend heard the story. Mrs. Hart was extremely ill, and could never have been out boating."

  "Oh," Morton said, chagrined. "I had no idea. My apologies. It seemed the best plan under the circumstances."

  "Well," I said, "I've taken care of it." I still felt annoyed, but even Josie said the matter was kept secret. I took a deep breath and let it out. "What are your plans?"

  "I have a choice: to stay or go. Which I do depends on your husband. I have nowhere to go now that my yacht is destroyed. I dare not return home; I'm sure it's being watched. My plan is to stay as long as I can and see what I can learn of who's betrayed me to the Feds."

  "What of Zia?"

  He snorted. "Zia." He shook his head. "She is, of course, the most likely candidate, yet has no motive."

  I then told him the details of my encounter with her, and her defense of Frank Pagliacci. I had forgotten about it up to this point, what with all that had gone on.

  Morton shook his head. "I've never known Zia to be enamored of men. She's always seemed too shrewd, too skeptical, too distrusting of their motives." He paused. "But perhaps this man has fooled her."

  It certainly seemed that way. She spoke like a woman in love, whose lover was being falsely accused in a way too vile for her to imagine. "Zia's not your maid, and I can't believe a sister would ever be so false. What is she to you, really?"

  He looked away. "For a while, she was my employer. Then my — I suppose the best term would be business partner. Now?" He shrugged. "I don't know whether it would be better for her to be dead or alive. I can't prove she lives, but she's disappeared after telling the Feds I attacked her."

  I stared at him in horror. "Zia was a Federal Agent?"

  He nodded. "I wish I never met her; she's betrayed me, and possibly them as well. Now I'm hunted."

  Anger rose in me, and chagrin. I had her on the ground and I let her get away! "If I knew she was a Fed, I would've killed her the day we fought and saved everyone the trouble."

  Morton flinched, but said nothing.

  "How is it that you joined the employ of ... were partnered with ... a Federal Agent?"

  He kept his eyes on the ground as we walked. "I've known Zia for some time. She was known to my family and came from the same city as my parents. She inherited a great deal of money and hired me to do some work for her. We've worked together ever since." He paused. "She would leave for long periods of time, and her explanations of what happened were incomplete. Perhaps this was when she did her work for them."

  I always pictured Feds as grim-faced men in dark spectacles, not as a pretty young woman with red hair who threw sand when cornered. "I'm stunned."

  "You might imagine what I felt."

  We walked along for a while, the laughter of Amelia's children far behind. Her kiss on his cheek, his obvious distress when he realized she was in danger, his reaction when I spoke of killing her ... "Did you love her?"

  He snorted. "Hardly. As I said, she ever distrusted men's motives, and regarded me more as a nuisance than anything else." He paused. "Don't misunderstand me; I enjoy the company and charms of women as much as the next man. But I've never wished to be tied to one. I prefer to go where I please, and when."

  I felt much the same way.

  We approached a table and chairs set up under an arbor, and we sat. "And what of your employer? Your Red Dog trey?" I felt concerned about Clover, the young "ace" with the eye-patch, and the other boy, like Stephen, the "chip" who I had never met.

  Morton shrugged. "Clover's a smart boy, although you wouldn't know it from talking to him. When Stephen was murdered and I went on the run, we met up once — for me to send your dress — and I told him to lay low for a while. He got his friends together, all on his own, and sent messages to every harbor to watch for me. One of those friends brought me here." He leaned his elbows on his knees, and gazed far away. "Saved my life." He straightened. "As far as my employer, he can go to the Fire for all I care. I think he knew Zia was false, and set me up to fail. I mean to find out why."

  When we returned to the house, Pearson told me three letters had arrived. The first was a double-sealed letter with a silver-edged white envelope and the Diamond Family's symbol traced in silver on the flap. It read:

  My dear Mrs. Spadros —

  It is my pleasure to inform you that the matter we discussed earlier has been confirmed. Never fear: I did not give particulars to the gentlemen involved. Please advise your friend to go to the poorhouse outside the Spadros Pot at 10 pm on the last day of the month. Our mutual friend plans to send a carriage.

  Most affectionately yours,

  Gardena Diamond

  I chuckled. So this was Gardena's idea of secrecy. No matter; the seals seemed untouched.

  I tossed it in the fire and rang for Pearson.

  He opened the door. "Yes, mum?"

  "When did Mr. Spadros say he would return?"

  Pearson checked a notebook in his pocket. "For dinner, mum."

  Perfect. "Then I'd like to go down to Madame Biltcliffe's and pick up my Spring gown. I'll need it for the Celebration."

  "I can send someone to get it if you like."

  "No need; I'd like to go on a ride. It's such lovely weather. I should be back in time for tea."

  Indeed, the day had turned overcast and chill. But Pearson only said, "Yes, mum," and turned to leave.

  "Pearson, did you ever learn when Mrs. Molly is 'at home'?"

  "Yes, mum. Every day, it seems. Forgive me, the matter must have slipped my mind."

  It was unusual for anything to slip Pearson's mind. "Thank you." I turned my attention to the third letter. Also from Gardena, it invited me to luncheon on the 1st of March. This must be when we were to meet with her blackmailer. As long as I was back in time to dress for the Celebration, I didn't think Tony would mind.

  I still needed to see Molly in order to learn why Tony never knew of my lessons. But did I really want to go to Spadros Castle?

  In the five years since it was built, we had never been invited there. Part of me wanted to visit simply out of curiosity, but the thought of facing Roy Spadros in his home gave me pause.

  Perhaps there was another way. I took out paper and pen.

  My dear Mrs. Spadros —

  I hope you are well.

  I did indeed hope she was well. Her husband Roy had a habit of hurting her when angry.

  I hope to have the pleasure of your company for tea at the Spadros Women's Club the Twenty-Seventh of February.

  Yours very truly,

  Jacqueline

  I gave the letter to Pearson on my way out.

  Molly was "at home" every day? Did she never go calling? I remembered my lonely days "at home," waiting for callers, and began to regret never visiting her.

  Perhaps this social call business had merit after all.

  When I entered Madame's shop, neither Madame nor any other customers were there. Tenni stood behind the counter. "May I help you, mum?"

  "Yes, I believe you are exactly the one who might help. I want to speak with a messenger boy.

  Tenni blinked. "But ... why come here?"

  "I have a message which can't be written."

  "Oh." After pausing for several seconds, she said, "I know just the boy you want."

  She went out front and waved a messenger boy over, then bent to speak with him. She came inside. "He's going to get him."

  "Very well. I wanted to pick up my Spring gown, too."

  Tenni smiled. "I'll box it up for you."

  While she was doing that, Honor stood out front, squinting in my direction.

  "Is Madame not here today?"

  "She's preparing her fees, mum. For January. Your men will be here in a few days to collect their packet."

  I fo
rgot the realities of life for businesses here in Bridges. Late payment of Family fees had unfortunate consequences. "Has Madame done any sketches of my Summer dress?"

  "Oh, yes," Tenni said. "Come this way."

  She led me to a table near the front windows filled with sketch books and opened a thick one with my name on the front. She flipped to a page.

  "Very nice," I said. I glanced up; Honor watched me. I waved at him; his face reddened and he turned away. "I think I'll page through this for a while until the boy arrives."

  "Yes, mum."

  A few customers came and went. After an hour, the boy returned with three others. The smallest was about nine, with white-blond hair and blue eyes, wearing a bright red jacket. Two older boys stood with him.

  "Tenni, bring the boys to the counter."

  "Yes, mum."

  I brought the sketch book to the counter as well, about a yard away from the boys. The various mannequins, racks, and displays hid me from Honor's view. "Hello," I said once the door closed behind them, "are you a boy who can remember things?"

  The little boy nodded. "I'm a Memory Boy, mum. That's why I wear the red jacket. I remember everything."

  What an adorable child. "What's your name, sweetie?"

  "Werner Lead."

  I glanced at the large windows: Honor was nowhere in sight. "Well, Werner ... I want you to say this: Tô zami çé isit. Kékènn olé chué twa. Mo konné komen édé twa kité lavil. Va koté lamézon moun pov a diz èr. T'alé trouvé in boggé lá pou twa. Mo linm twa é mo sa lá ak twa kan posib."

  This was Kourí-Viní, the language we spoke at home, just me and Ma. I didn't know anyone else who spoke it. "Do you think you can remember that?"

  The boy repeated it perfectly.

  I beckoned him over and whispered, "To Fanny Kaplan at the Cathedral, Spadros Pot. Okay?"

  He looked up at me with his big innocent eyes. "I need extra to go there."

  I smiled and handed him a dollar. "Okay. Will this do?"

  He grinned at me.

  "The men are big and scary there, but they won't hurt you." I gestured to Tenni. "Return here with the answer."