Aiden's Story (A Watcher Novel)

by S. J. West

  Jered hesitated a moment like he didn’t want to say the name, but finally he sighed, “Robert.”

  “Why am I not surprised by that revelation?”

  “Because you know what a vicious little bastard he is?” Jered said.

  As I mentioned earlier, I had read the police reports concerning the other four Ripper murders, but when Jered and I walked into 13 Miller’s Court, I still wasn’t prepared for what I saw. I would later learn that the mutilated body lying on the bed in the small room was that of a prostitute by the name of Mary Kelly. I won’t describe what I saw that night because I don’t want you to have the same nightmares I do.

  Jered and I found Robert standing over what was left of the body. He had one hand and arm buried deep inside the woman’s upper torso. He yanked out her heart before turning to face us.

  “And to what do I owe the honor of having two of my fellow Watchers come for a little visit? Is it tea time already?”

  “You’re drawing attention to yourself you egotistical bastard,” Jered said heatedly. “Justin would like to have a word with you. Now.”

  “Tell Justin I’ll come to him when I’m good and ready. I’m not through having my fun yet.”

  “Yes,” I told him, “you are.”

  “Oh get off your high horse, Aiden,” Robert said, glaring at me. “You’ve done things just as bad as or worse than this. Don’t think you can stand there and pontificate to me about my bad behavior. You neither, Jered. You’ll both show what hypocrites you are if you start chastising me about killing a few human women. At least my victims were just whores. Who exactly is going to miss them? If you ask me, I’m doing society a favor by dispatching them to early graves.”

  “I could care less who you murder or how you do it,” Jered told him honestly. “But when there’s a chance you could reveal us to the humans, it needs to stop. At least be discrete with your kills and don’t leave them for the humans to find. What you’re doing is foolish and reckless. I’ve always known you were mentally unstable, Robert, but I never took you for a dimwit too.”

  Robert tossed the heart in his hand at his son who was crouched in the far corner of the room. His boy caught his treat in midair between his gaping muzzle and swallowed it whole.

  “If you want to clean this mess up, be my guest,” Robert told us. “My son and I have more important matters to attend to.”

  Robert walked over to his son, touching him on the head to phase them both away from the gruesome scene.

  “Well, do you want the honors, or should I take care of it?” Jered asked me.

  Before I could answer, there was a knock at the door.

  “Mary?” A woman’s voice said. “I know you’re in there. I’m coming in!”

  Both Jered and I phased out of the room and back onto Dorset Street. We heard the woman scream and then shout, “Murder!”

  “Well, I guess the humans get one last body to add to the Jack the Ripper legend,” Jered said in disappointment.

  “At least he’ll stop now,” I replied.

  “How can you be so sure? Robert has never been someone who follows directions very well.”

  “He isn’t going to want Justin as an enemy, and Justin can’t afford to let anyone defy his orders. If he did, he would lose control of the others.”

  “True,” Jered agreed. “He can’t kill him, but I guess he could chop his head off and not allow Robert to regenerate for a while. Actually, that’s not a bad idea to do anyway. He deserves the punishment just for being so stupid.”

  “Will you be seeing Justin soon?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Do me a favor and let him know I’m leaving the Pinkertons. I need some time to myself and this seems like as good a time as any to take it. Tell him I’ll be in touch when I’m ready to do something else for him.”

  “All right. I can do that for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  I telegraphed Allan Pinkerton to let him know I resigned my position with his agency. I don’t know if he ever made a reply because I didn’t stick around to find out. I went back to my apartment in Chicago and packed up what few belongings I had.

  I wandered around the United States for a while, picking up odd jobs here and there just to pass the time. I made sure I never stayed in one town for more than a week. One reason was I didn’t want to become attached to people. I wasn’t able to do as Kate asked and stop drinking blood, but I did relegate myself to only killing someone once a month. I know that still sounds horrible, but for me it was a small miracle. I had even stopped meeting Malcolm for our regular Valentine’s Day competition, but after almost thirty-seven years of living on the road, I was ready to settle down again somewhere and call it home.

  I ended up going back to Chicago and soon learned I wasn’t the only Watcher in town.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The year was 1925 and America was in the middle of its prohibition period. From what I could tell, it didn’t do much more than transform petty crooks into millionaires and line the pockets of corrupt politicians and cops with bribes. I rented a room in a boarding house and overheard some of my male neighbors mention a place called the Egyptian Palace. Supposedly, you could go there and satisfy whatever desire you might have: women, alcohol, and gambling. One of my neighbors even mentioned the name of the owner of this establishment. The one and only Malcolm Xavier Devereaux.

  It wasn’t hard to find Malcolm’s place of business just on the outskirts of town. The Egyptian Palace was located off the main road heading west out of Chicago. There was even a convenient sign in the shape of a gold pyramid that showed you where to make the turn.

  The mansion itself looked like a villa you would find on any grand estate in France with its characteristic arched windows and white stucco exterior. The accenting stonework was painted beige, which must have been the ‘golden’ part of the palace. As you entered the manor, you were welcomed by a sharply dressed maître d’ standing behind a wooden podium. The front was designed to hide Malcolm’s den of inequity behind an elegant French restaurant that served cuisine prepared by a chef trained at the Le Cordon Bleu culinary school in Paris, France, which had only been established thirty years prior.

  As I sat alone at my table eating a meal of Confit de Canard, which is duck cooked in its own fat that was served that evening over duck fat-fried potatoes, Malcolm found me.

  “Well, well, well,” he said, sitting down in the chair across the table from me, “if it isn’t the prodigal son returned. Where have you been all these years, Aiden?”

  “Around,” I said, noticing Malcolm looked every inch the slick businessman in his finely tailored black suit with his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. “I just got back into town and heard about your new business. So tell me, where are you hiding the girls, gambling, and booze?”

  Malcolm smiled. “Downstairs. Surprisingly, the restaurant does well on its own though. Enough to keep all my customers’ needs fulfilled at any rate.”

  “And your other endeavors, do they keep your needs satisfied?”

  “They keep my bank account healthy, if that’s what you’re asking,” Malcolm said, as he narrowed his eyes on me. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about expanding my business. Would you be interested in partnering up with me?”

  “I don’t have a lot of money,” I told him. “I’m not sure I could buy into a full partnership with you.”

  “Money is the least of my worries, Aiden. I need someone I can trust and who I know won’t cheat me the first chance they get. Humans can get greedy, especially the little gangsters that run around this country thinking they’re big shots.”

  “Speaking of gangsters, I’m surprised Capone is letting you infringe on his territory so blatantly.”

  “I made sure he learned not to bother me,” Malcolm said with an ominous, closed lip grin. “He and I have an…understanding. He leaves me alone, and I let him live. It’s simple really. Once he figured out he can’t kill me, but that the same rule doesn’
t apply to him and his men, he wisely decided to leave me alone. He’s even been rather helpful with the local politicians and police.”

  I looked around at the opulently decorated restaurant and asked, “How much do you make in a year from a place like this?”

  Malcolm shrugged. “Oh, somewhere between eighty and a hundred a year.”

  “Thousand?”

  Malcolm shook his head slowly and grinned again. “Million.”

  Let me put this kind of money into perspective for you. In the 1930’s, a loaf of white bread cost eight cents. The amount of money Malcolm was talking about probably could have funded a small country back in those days.

  “I have a few establishments similar to this one scattered around the country,” Malcolm went on to explain. “I plan to launch one in California soon. Would you be interested in running it for me? Your take would be seventy-five percent of the profits, and then you give me the remaining share.”

  I know it might seem odd to you that Malcolm had so much money while I didn’t at the time. Money was never much of a concern to me because I usually just took what I wanted. Nevertheless, the idea of earning it, even in such a way, was appealing.

  “What exactly would be expected of me?” I asked.

  “Keep the liquor stores stocked, which isn’t a problem for us since we can phase the supplies we need anywhere we want, and make sure the customers are kept happy. It’s child’s play really. I’m not sure how much longer prohibition will stay in effect, but I don’t see it lasting more than a few more years. Americans are used to getting what they want when they want it. The politicians won’t be able to keep justifying it on moral grounds for too much longer.” Malcolm stood from the table. “Follow me and I’ll show you where the real money is made.”

  As we walked out of the restaurant, Malcolm said, “The Americans made alcohol a precious commodity with this prohibition of theirs. If people want to drink, they’ll find a way to do it. All they did was make it easy for people like me to take advantage of the system and become rich from it. Supply and demand has always been the cornerstones of any successful business. I have the supply and prohibition created the demand. When you tell people they can’t have something, it makes them want it that much more.”

  Malcolm escorted me down a flight of stairs to a set of gloss wood double doors. Two muscular young men dressed like Egyptians from the day of the pharaohs stood on either side of the doors. Without having to say a word to them, the men opened the doors for us allowing me to see where Malcolm’s fortune was really being made.

  The basement was just as opulently appointed as the upper portion of the home had been. On the right side of the large, open space was where the gambling took place. Everything from blackjack to roulette to poker was happening there. The craps table seemed to be a particular crowd pleaser. On the left side was a large bar where the alcohol was served, and a dance floor was situated in the middle for those patrons looking to have a good time with their partners.

  “I heard this was a whorehouse too,” I said. “Where are you hiding them?”

  Malcolm tilted his head forward and started to walk towards another set of double doors that were also manned by two men dressed in Egyptian costumes. When we walked into the room beyond the doors, I almost felt like we had stepped back in time to ancient Egypt. The floor, walls, and columns in the room were made from roughhewn stone with hieroglyphs chiseled into the rock and pictures painted on the walls. Though, the sexual acts depicted in the paintings would have never actually been displayed in a pharaoh’s palace.

  “Malcolm,” a woman called out as she walked down the gold painted staircase in the middle of the room. She was dressed in a white, semi-transparent vertical pleated robe, matching shawl, and gold ornamental collar in true Egyptian style. Her shoulder length hair was jet black and straight. She wore a simple gold crown, which encircled the middle of her forehead. Her eyes were lined heavily with black kohl, and her eye shadow was a mixture of artfully contoured sweeps of gold tones and blue hues. Her skin was honey colored, which provided a provocative contrast to what she was wearing.

  “Ahh, Clara,” Malcolm said kindly, “how is business tonight?”

  Clara smiled. “As good as always,” she reported, “my girls are making sure everyone is having a good time this evening.”

  “And the senator?” Malcolm asked with special interest. “Has he been enjoying himself?”

  Clara’s smile grew even wider. “Immensely. I see no problem in having him pass the bill you asked him to.”

  “Excellent. I knew I could count on you to put him into a receptive mood.” Malcolm turned to me. “Clara, I would like to introduce you to an old friend of mine, Aiden Keles. I’m planning to put Aiden in charge of the California expansion.”

  I bowed at the waist to Clara, which made her giggle.

  “Oh, my,” she said with a hand to her chest as she studied me, “you didn’t actually bring a gentleman to me did you, Malcolm?”

  “Pfft, far from it,” Malcolm assured her. “If anyone has set foot inside more whorehouses than me, it’s probably Aiden.”

  Clara looked me up and down appreciatively before saying, “And why would you need to come to someone like me? I’m sure you could convince any debutant in town to spread her legs for you.”

  “Sometimes a man doesn’t want the complications involved in such an endeavor,” I told her.

  Clara held her hand out to me in a silent proposition. I wasn’t one to pass up such an offer at the time. So I placed one of my hands into hers.

  “I’m taking the rest of the night off, Malcolm,” Clara announced.

  “Taking the night off?” Malcolm sputtered, sounding taken off guard by such a notion.

  “Yes,” Clara said, “you wouldn’t charge the only person I’ve ever heard you call friend, now would you? Besides, I think I’ve earned it since I took care of the senator for you. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Malcolm groaned. “I suppose. Just don’t get too used to him. I’ll need for Aiden to go to California soon.”

  Clara squeezed my hand. “Then I guess I’ll need to make this night count.”

  I quickly learned why Clara was placed in charge of Malcolm’s brothel. She was expertly skilled in her chosen profession, but she was also a savvy businesswoman. She knew how to make her patrons feel like they were the only ones she cared about while she was with them. This talent allowed her to earn their loyalty, which is a hard thing to accomplish considering the number of customers she probably serviced in just one evening alone.

  After Clara and I had our fun, she told me how she came to be in Malcolm’s employment.

  “He saved me,” she said as we lay in bed together. She puffed on the cigarette in her hand and continued, “A few years ago, I was working the streets in downtown Chicago just trying to make enough money to buy food to survive. I was fifteen, dirty, and desperate. When I learned about this place, I came here and begged him for a job. He gave me the option of working in the kitchens upstairs or down here. I chose to come here because I knew the kitchens wouldn’t pay as well.”

  “Have you always been in charge of the other girls?” I asked.

  “No,” Clara said, blowing out a long stream of smoke from her lungs, “there was another madam in charge at the time. But, she was greedy and foolish. She tried to cheat Malcolm out of money. He kicked her out and offered me her job.”

  “You seem awfully young to be running things.”

  Clara looked over at me. “I’m twenty–one. Plenty old enough to count money and lay with a man if I want to. Besides, Malcolm takes good care of us. He doesn’t let any man lay a hand on us if we don’t want them to. You don’t usually get that kind of courtesy in a whorehouse, at least that’s what the other girls tell me. All I ever did was walk the streets. His loyalty to us has made all of us fiercely loyal to him in return, which is one reason I invited you up here.”

  I chuckled. “And here I thought it was because of my charm
and good looks.”

  Clara winked at me. “Well, I won’t lie and say that didn’t help me make up my mind, but I mostly brought you up here to let you know that the place in California will have a few of my girls in it. If you do anything over there that might hurt Malcolm personally or any of his business holdings, I’ll hear about it and tell him right away. Do we understand one another?”

  “I have no intention of cheating Malcolm,” I told her. I think Clara was used to hearing lies from men and could tell one from the truth easily. “I haven’t even officially taken the job he’s offered me.”

  “You’ll take it,” Clara said confidently. “There isn’t much that Malcolm wants that he doesn’t get.”

  “I could say the same thing about you,” I told her. “You don’t seem like a woman who stands idly by if she wants something bad enough.”

  Clara put her cigarette out in the glass tray on the nightstand beside her and turned to face me.

  “There isn’t much I don’t get if I really want it,” she agreed, before grabbing a hold of me.

  I did end up working for Malcolm. We made a ton of money for the next eight years during the rest of prohibition. I let Malcolm handle my money because he was just better at making good investment choices. Just before the Great Depression hit in 1929, he converted almost all of our cash into gold bars.

  “Gold will never lose value,” he told me. “If anything, it will increase over time. Trust me.”

  I did trust him, and he saved us from ruin, unlike a lot of people we knew.

  Malcolm and I split ways in the 1950’s, but we did resume our annual Valentine’s Day challenge just so we could keep in touch with one another. Neither of us ever killed the conquest of our competition though. We were both trying to do better and relegated ourselves to only killing when we absolutely needed to. For me that still meant one victim per month. I’m not sure about Malcolm. You would have to ask him. Neither of us talked about that side of our lives. I don’t think either of us wanted to admit to our own personal failures.

  However, I do remember him mentioning once that he tried to limit his kills to those Justin asked him to hunt down. That’s how he met Lilly for the first time. She had made it onto Justin’s hit list.