“What baby?”
I stared at him. Did I reveal a confidence? “Josie told me their baby died: it was born too soon.”
“Oh.” Tony sounded dismayed.
“She made me promise not to tell. No one was to know for fear the papers would learn of it.”
Tony’s face fell. “Mr. Hart made it sound a terrible illness.” His eyes narrowed. “Did he lie to me?”
I let out a breath. “Tony, he may not trust you. I don’t understand this split between Mr. Hart and the Kerrs. And ... Mr. Hart kept staring at me. Frankly, I felt uncomfortable.”
Tony sounded hesitant. “Jacqui — I don’t think he meant anything by it.”
Did Tony mean to say I imagined it? Where was his obsession with my reputation now? “Whether he meant anything or not, it was quite rude for him to stare at me so. I have enough people calling me a —”
The carriage turned off the main road. Tony grabbed the speaker tube. “What’s wrong?”
The driver said, “Road’s blocked, a turnip-cart spilled.”
Tony peered out of the window. “What a mess.” We started off again, full speed. He turned to me. “Jacqui, you know how much I care about your —”
A shot rang out. The carriage jolted and lurched to the right, as if running over something large with our left wheels, and a horse screamed. Then the carriage jerked backwards. I fell to the left as sand sprayed across my face. Tony fell atop me.
What just happened?
Tony stood. “Are you hurt?”
Shouts and whinnies filled the air; next to my head, a horse screamed in terror and pain. The carriage shuddered.
“No.” I glanced at the sky through the window just above Tony’s head. “Someone shot at us.”
“Yes.” Tony helped me to my feet. In the half-darkness, I couldn’t tell what he was feeling.
My gun was at home. “What shall we do?”
Tony climbed to the front of the carriage and opened the front window, crouching to peer outside. “I don’t see the driver. The horses are tangled.” He opened the back window. “Oh, gods.”
I retreated from the horse’s screams; Tony held me.
One of Tony’s men appeared above us. “Are you well, sir?”
“Yes,” Tony said. “Someone fired upon us.”
“Yes, sir.” The man moved towards the front of the carriage, returning a moment later. “Driver’s dead, sir. Shot in the head.”
I didn’t even know the man’s name.
Tony said, “Are the wheels damaged?”
“Let me check, sir.” He came back. “I don’t think so. We’ve sent for another horse.” He grimaced. “Sorry for the noise, sir; we can’t tend to the horse until we get the carriage off it.”
Honor’s face replaced the man’s. “Lean on the seat, mum.”
I did so, placing my feet on the carriage wall below me.
Shouts, grunts, and groans as the carriage was righted with a mighty heave. I stood, opened the door, and sprang outside. A large crowd of sweating men surrounded the carriage.
“Thank you for your help,” I called out. “Find the scoundrel who did this.”
Shouts and cheers as men scattered to the buildings.
Tony stood near the front of our carriage. His men assisted the horses, who had many cuts and scrapes on their sides.
The horse lying at the rear of the carriage cried out, eyes wide, its flanks mangled by the carriage-wheels. A bloody mark lay on the cobblestones where it had been dragged by the reins.
Honor shot the poor beast in the head and it lay still.
“That was the horse we lent the Kerrs,” Tony said. “It would’ve been better if it had stayed with them.”
A card lay on the ground. It was the size of a business card, but blank. On the other side lay the silhouette of a dog, stamped in red: the mark of the Red Dog Gang.
The Torment
I sat on the sofa in my study, examining the card in my hand. Was this a coincidence? Or were these false Red Dogs claiming responsibility for this outrage?
Tony soon followed. “You’re not going to believe this.” He sat in an armchair across from me, elbows on his knees, head down. “The turnip truck spilled directly beyond a street under construction. Several men moved the warning signs a few hours ago, filled the hole with sand, and spread cloth painted like cobblestones. In the twilight, the driver never saw the danger.”
I handed him the Red Dog card. “It was a trap.”
Tony peered at the card, then nodded.
I shook my head. “Someone knew when we left Hart quadrant and our route.”
“How can you be sure?”
“This took planning.”
I gasped, recalling Mrs. Bryce’s sale.
“What is it?”
Where to begin? “Master Rainbow claimed a black-haired woman named Birdie, who he met when he thought Frank Pagliacci was with the District Attorney’s office —”
“Wait,” Tony said. “Master Rainbow knew Frank Pagliacci?”
Oh, dear. “Master Hogan didn’t tell you?”
Tony frowned. “No, he didn’t.” He shook his head. “Never mind that. What about this woman?”
I bit my lip. I made Sawbuck promise not to tell, and then I did it myself. This wasn’t going to end well.
I took a deep breath and let it out. “He later saw Birdie at the scene of a murder. I believe the person murdered had knowledge of the explosion, and this woman may have tried to silence her. I think Birdie and Frank Pagliacci, or perhaps another of his crew, set the bomb which destroyed Master Rainbow’s yacht.”
Tony peered at me, a slight frown on his face. “So they were trying to kill those who might identify them.”
“Yes. I think your father’s after them, which may be why.”
If Jack Diamond had set alibis in advance as I suspected, he was more cunning than I thought. Not only did this protect him from Roy, but from Frank as well.
Tony grinned. “Good for him.” But then he paused. “So what does this have to do with my driver?”
“We’d best call Master Hogan in.”
Tony left to find Sawbuck. Amelia entered with my mail — which I had her put on my desk — and tea. “Master Hogan and my husband will be joining us; please bring tea for them as well.”
“It’s almost time to dress for dinner.”
“We’ll take dinner in here.”
“Yes, mum.”
I had well and truly erred. Once Tony realized Sawbuck hid something of this magnitude he would question what else he’d hidden. Sawbuck hid our adventures the night Marja died from Tony because I asked him to, and would be furious.
Tony and Sawbuck stalked in. “I must apologize.”
That stopped them in their tracks.
“I asked Master Hogan to withhold certain events, and he did so out of love for you. No other reason.”
Tony turned away, still angry.
Sawbuck blushed.
I stared at him, so astonished that it took a moment to regain my composure. Sawbuck loved Tony, but not as a father or older brother, as I'd thought, nor even as a cousin. “Master Hogan —”
Sawbuck knew that I knew. “Please, call me Ten. If you will.”
I felt humbled, melancholy. “I’m truly sorry. For everything.”
Tony, still looking away, nodded. He hadn’t noticed a thing.
I took a deep breath. “I suppose I'd best begin at the beginning.”
The one thing I couldn’t do was to reveal Rachel Diamond’s intervention to help Ma. Tony’s mother Molly had been crystal clear on that account. If anyone knew Ma was alive, it would put her — and possibly Mrs. Diamond — in mortal danger. So I told them the Kerr’s housekeeper Marja raised me, Joe, Josie, and my kitchen maids Ottilie, Poignee, and Treysa, who Tony had killed.
Tony turned pensive at that.
Then I described Marja’s letter, which warned a mutual friend was to be murdered. I left home the night Tony worked late at t
he casino to meet with Marja, only to find her mortally shot.
“Good gods,” Tony said. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
I shrugged, but his words were such an echo of Joe’s that it touched me. “Master ... Ten found her. The police came, so we ran. But then Master Rainbow told us a woman with light skin and jet black hair — who called herself Birdie — just shot at him.”
Tony’s jaw dropped. “She shot at him, too?”
Too? Could a woman have murdered Marja? But why? I nodded, saying to Sawbuck, “But what driver had we that night?”
Sawbuck paled. “The same.”
“This evening was no accident, Tony. Our driver saw something that night he shouldn’t have, and now he’s dead.”
If I hadn’t gone out that night, perhaps neither of them would have died. My gaze fell to the blood-stained card on the table. How long would any of us survive? “You wanted to know where I went before you found me at Madame’s wearing her mourning garb? I visited David Bryce, the boy who was kidnapped.”
“Is he well?” Tony said.
I shook my head. “But his mother made a large sale of gray cloth earlier this month to a young woman with black hair. The woman said it was for art.”
Tony and Sawbuck exchanged glances.
“Art,” Tony said bitterly. He pointed at the card. “Perhaps it’s best she not know she met with one of her child’s kidnappers.”
I shuddered, glancing towards the letters on my desk. “When I spoke with your father at the Women’s Club —”
Sawbuck snorted in disdain, Tony flinched, and I let out a sigh. “Yes, I know. But I did learn something.”
Tony leaned forward.
“Your father mentioned how he learned of your injury —”
“Oh?” Tony said. “I always wondered.”
“An anonymous letter from a young black-haired woman —”
“Ah,” Sawbuck said. “Birdie.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Then I turned to Tony. “Your father agrees to let us examine the letter ... if we go to him for it.”
Sawbuck began to laugh. “This is rich! The man won’t even help his own son without extracting some petty torment.”
Tony shook his head. “Are you surprised? If this is all, let’s participate in his petty torment and be done with it.”
I wasn’t looking forward to this.
“Oh,” Tony said, “I almost forgot. Pearson!”
Pearson opened the door and stuck his head in. “Yes, sir?”
“The package.”
“Yes, sir.” Pearson brought in a medium-sized box wrapped in white paper, handing it to Tony.
Tony offered it to me. “Happy anniversary.”
Sawbuck rose, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ll leave you, then.”
“Sure, Ten,” Tony said, his eyes never leaving mine, “thanks for your help.” Once Sawbuck left, Tony said, “Go on, open it.”
Under the paper lay a stationery box: paper, pens, a small bottle of ink, sealing-wax, even matches. “This is perfect!” Now I could send paper, pen, and ink to Joe so he could write me.
“Amelia told me you enjoyed writing whilst in your rooms.”
I felt touched at his thoughtfulness. “Thank you.” I put the box on the table and went to him.
He rose, taking my hands in his. “I’m sorry today went so poorly.” He cupped my face in his hands, rested his forehead on mine. “My only desire is for you to be the happiest woman alive. Whatever you wish for is yours.”
I closed my eyes. But what if what I wish for is to be free?
The Rule
The next day, I went to Madame’s shop for my fitting. Her store front had been tidied, and she met me out front as usual, but stiffly, without a smile. “Come in.”
My outriders dismounted; one went each way, another followed us. Madame turned to Honor and said, “You men aren’t allowed in here.”
Honor hesitated, but Tony’s other man said, “He goes in, or I do. Or we return to the Manor. Your choice.”
Madame glanced at Honor. “Better a footman than a thug.”
The other man snorted in amusement, then faced the street. After Madame, Honor, and I entered the store, Madame turned the placard to “Closed: entry by appointment only,” and crossed to my private curtained dressing room. “He will not come inside.”
Honor said, “Certainly not. But men watch each end of your back alley until we leave together.” He turned to me. “I’m sorry, mum.” He opened the curtain, letting it fall behind us.
Madame whispered, “It would have been better if you didn’t come here.”
“What do you mean?”
She said nothing.
“I want to continue having you as my dressmaker, very much so. I don’t know what threats my husband gave you, but I had nothing to do with it.” I turned away. “I hate him for it.”
“Ah, cherie ...” compassion laced her voice, “the decision was mine. He wanted me to spy, and I said no.” She laid a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be troubled by it.”
“But why mustn’t I visit? The sentiment against the Family?”
Her sleeve had slid up: a large purple bruise lay on her arm.
“That’s part of it,” she whispered. “But ...” she glanced at her arm, then flinched away, covering the bruise with her hand.
I felt horrified. “Who hurt you?”
She snorted. “Spadros men. New ones, in Spadros livery. I didn’t inform the Family of my ‘extra’ income over the years.”
Shame flooded me, and remorse. “I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged. “I still have my teeth, and nothing is broken. I must pay double fees now.” She sounded weary. “But I’m alive.”
Tenni peeked in. Madame said, “Come in, dear girl, it’s safe.”
Tenni held the partially-completed dress. After helping me undress, Tenni and Madame pinned my new dress around me.
“May I ask something, Madame?”
“Of course.”
“Did you find anything missing? From your files?”
“There were several purchase orders gone — all ones your husband signed.”
How would they even know such papers would be there? “Has anyone been in your office? Did any unusual event happen before the break-in? Anything at all?”
“No ...” Madame said, but her eyes gazed far away. A line appeared between her perfect brows. “Yes. There was one thing odd. Several months ago, a young woman asked to be measured. She was to be married in another city and needed notes for her dressmaker. I receive several requests like this each year.
“I measured her as I always do. I brought her to the office, wrote the measurements, then opened my cabinet to take out a folder. Just then, a messenger boy arrived with a letter. I took it, tipped the boy, then turned back, that quickly. I gave the woman my notes, she left.” She shook her head. “The letter was blank.”
“Can you describe her?”
Madame smiled, color rising to her cheeks. “Very pretty, very young. A lovely figure and straight black hair. Porcelain skin, blue eyes. Ah, a gorgeous girl.”
This sounded suspiciously like that woman Birdie. “Do you have her file?”
Madame stared at me, mouth open. “I do.”
Honor gave me a surprised glance over his shoulder as the curtain flew open.
Madame returned with a thin file. On the tab: “Eunice Ogier.”
A windswept cemetery, an empty grave. Men strained at the winches as they lowered a coffin inside. Molly held my hand. I looked up at her. “This is how we do for our dead.”
I nodded. Not left on the street for the rats and crows like in the Pot.
But I couldn’t see her inside that box, and I couldn’t sit next to her, or comb her hair. I couldn’t hold her hand, and no one let me take her rings. They’d never be sold to help her people. I didn't understand.
Eunice Ogier was old, old. She didn’t call me a Pot rag like the others. One night, she told me she and h
er family left the Pot to stay with the first Acevedo Spadros when she was a little girl, back when the Pot was good, just before the war. He told her they would be in his family now. “I’ll always remember him for that.”
Some nights, she cried about him dying.
Could there be someone else in the city with that name?
Surely not. She had no children. Her relatives died long ago.
Who knew I used the name Eunice Ogier on my cases?
* * *
For the rest of the visit — and on the way home — I pondered the question. My contacts were the only ones who could connect me with that name. An elderly servant at the Country House. A few people in various government offices on Market Center. Thrace Pike. And Mr. Blackberry at the Bridges Daily.
Mr. Blackberry was at the Clubb desk for years before he became editor. He’d given me all sorts of information, never asking for anything in return. Could he be giving my information to the Clubbs?
But Ottilie, Treysa, and Poignee had been stealing my letters: they knew this name too. This was the first real evidence they might have been in league with the Red Dog Gang.
I could understand their petty attempts at blackmail. I could even understand stealing my letters out of curiosity. But to send my personal information to someone wishing me harm? What had I done to them, other than offer a better life?
* * *
When I returned home, I went straight to Tony’s room. His manservant Jacob Michaels was helping Tony into his jacket when I walked in. “Jacqui? What is it?” Tony said.
I said to Michaels, “Please leave us.”
Michaels bowed, shutting the door behind him.
“Why did you kill my kitchen maids? What did they say?”
Tony sat heavily on his bed, not looking at me. “They talked amongst themselves. They — they accused you of giving yourself to the Apprentices gladly, because I was incapable.”
“That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard!”
Tony sounded defensive. “They did say it, Jacqui.”
A laugh burst from me in spite of the chaos inside. “First, you are capable, and you know it. Second, I have no desire for Apprentices. Third, in case they had some mad desire for me, the Inventor paid me escort the entire time. Why care so much about what some silly women say?”
The Ace of Clubs Page 9