The Two of Hearts

The Police

The PoliceThe clock struck quarter past six when Mr. Thrace Pike arrived: I caught glimpse of him exiting his carriage. As he was with the District Attorney’s office, I called to Blitz to let him in and sent Mary to the kitchen, thinking his visit pertained to the shooting.

As it turned out, it did, but not as I imagined.

Mr. Pike’s position had improved somewhat since I’d last seen him. His suit, while still brown, was purchased at a reputable shop rather than the poorhouse, and his shoes were new.

I felt impressed to see him hand a topper to Blitz as I watched through the open doorway to the hall. “Come in, Mr. Pike, sit down.”

He scanned the parlor then seated himself upon my sofa, puzzlement upon his face, probably wondering why I didn’t rise to greet him. “I hope you’re well.”

“Reasonably so, sir. Would you care for tea?”

“No, thank you.” He sat relaxed, gazing at me as if entranced.

The silence grew awkward. Finally, I ventured, “I presume this is an official visit?”

He appeared to be at a loss for words. But he quickly recovered. “Mrs. Spadros, I’m disturbed to hear of a shooting.”

I smiled, amused. “Here?”

He leaned forward, frowning. “Don’t bluff, madam. You may have cowed those boys dressed as officers, but you don’t fool me.”

This was new. “Is that a threat, sir?”

Mr. Pike blinked. “A what?”

“Will you charge me with a crime for not speaking to the police in the manner you wish me to? Is this what that bill of yours is for?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you mean to also target the young women who suffer unwanted attentions and attack by the police, and wish merely to be left alone?”

Mr. Pike gaped at me.

“Or is it rather their fathers and brothers, those men who come to their aid? Are those the ones that you wish to imprison?”

His face flushed red. “Mrs. Spadros, I mean nothing of the kind! You’ve just been shot at. What wise proclamation would you make upon the matter?”

“You might begin by considering what has happened to make it so people won’t speak with the police. How we arrived at this point in the first place.”

Mr. Pike said nothing.

“Do you not remember our conversation at the Plaza, sir? It wasn’t even three years past. I can’t imagine you’ve forgotten it.”

He seemed to have nothing to say.

I sighed. Was he truly so ignorant? “You’re a good man, Mr. Pike. A decent man. But you’re not smart —”

He bristled.

“— at least, not in the ways that matter.”

Mr. Pike frowned. “I want those men prosecuted, not torn to pieces below Spadros Castle! How can I protect you if you won’t help me?”

“You have the matter directly in front of you, yet you fail to see it.”

“I don’t understand.”

Of course he didn’t. “In your world, warm and safe upon Market Center, men declare their cards boldly, for good or ill. But this isn’t neutral territory; this is Spadros quadrant. We’re playing poker with guns drawn. The loser doesn’t have his day in court, sir. The loser dies, and so does his family. His friends. And his associates.”

Mr. Pike appeared dismayed.

“I’ve had enough friends die. And I, for one, prefer to live. If you do too, I suggest that at least for your family’s sake, before you continue your play, you at least learn the game.”

He stared at me a full minute, then rose. “Good evening, then.”

“Good evening, sir. My regards to your wife.”

After a startled glance, Mr. Pike took his hat from Blitz and left.

Blitz said, “What was that all about?”

I shrugged, realizing that Roy, of all people, had been right about the man. “He’s a crusader, Blitz. He’s going to save Bridges from itself. A brave man.”

Blitz let out a laugh. “For certain. By the way, dinner’s ready.”

Apparently Amelia had left to return to Spadros Manor while I’d spoken to Mr. Pike, because she was nowhere to be found.

Why did Thrace Pike even come here? Whatever the reason, I doubted he’d live to see the end of this. Sooner or later he was going to anger one of the Families, and that would finish him.

***

Halfway through dinner, the doorbell rang. Blitz answered it, returning with Master Blaze Rainbow, our only boarder and my business partner.

Master Rainbow (or as I thought of him, Morton) was in his later thirties. Only a bit taller than me, he had light brown hair, a nose that had been broken at least once, and poor skin. But he had a beautiful smile, a loyal spirit, and had been a great help to me in many a situation. “Come sit with us,” I said. “Have you eaten?”

“Not as yet.” Before Mary might rise to serve him, he waved her off. “I can get my own food, thanks.”

Mrs. Crawford refused to eat with us. In her day, servants didn’t sit at table with gentlefolk, even if one of the gentlefolk was a “Pot rag” like me.

Yes, she said it: Blitz might have been able to improve the soundproofing in the apartments, but you could still hear much of what was said in the other rooms. And the woman had no qualms about gossiping with Amelia when she thought I couldn’t hear.

“You look well,” I said.

After his narrow escape from death in Diamond quadrant, Morton had taken off for a visit to the countryside. He sat across from me. “The weather’s nice in Clubb this time of year. I rented a room by the shore mid-countryside and did some fishing.”

Blitz laughed. “Fishing? You’re a man of many talents.”

“Perhaps too much talent,” Morton said. “I’m heartily sick of eating fish by now.”

“Well, it’s good we have none for dinner tonight,” Mary said.

I thought it rather rude that he mentioned it yet didn’t bring some back. “I’m sure by now you’ve heard about our adventure today.”

“No,” Morton said. “What happened?”

I watched as Blitz and Mary told him the story.

I don’t know why I did. Sometimes I got the feeling that Morton wasn’t always off doing what he said he was. Perhaps an overactive imagination, perhaps some intuition.

Or perhaps it was, for example, that after two weeks fishing, he wasn’t the least bit tanned.

But he seemed to have no idea of the events here. “This is incredible. I’m glad no one was hurt.”

People had been trying to kill Morton ever since he helped me on a kidnapping case almost three years past. Could this have been aimed at him? “Who knew you’d left here?”

Morton shrugged. “All of you, plus the driver who picked me up the day I left. Why?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Just trying to make sense of what might cause someone to do this.”

“Damn sloppy way to do it if they were after me,” Morton said. “This smacks of intimidation.”

Blitz nodded sagely.

I mopped up my gravy with the rest of my bread and ate it. “It’d be nice to know what I’m being intimidated about.”

“Well, let’s not worry about that now,” Mary said. “There’ll be plenty of time to figure this out in the morning.”

The baby, off around the corner in Blitz and Mary’s room, began to wail. Mary let out a sigh and went out into the back hall.

“Ah, yes.” Morton’s room was just across the hall from theirs. “I’d forgotten about our newest little tenant.”

“She’s sleeping better now,” Blitz said. “But if she keeps you up, maybe we can play some dice.”

Morton grimaced. “I still owe you for our last game.”

I laughed. “How long will you be around?”

Morton stretched. “I should be here for a while, as far as dinner goes. I have some research to do, though, so I’ll be spending my days upon Market Center.”

“A pity,” I said, thinking about the dreary government buildings there. “Do you already have a carriage?”

Morton shook his head. “Not as yet.”

If anyone could fix my spyglass, it would be my friend Anna Goren. She was once a Tinkerer, and ran an apothecary shop there on the island. “I need to go to Market Center tomorrow. If you like, we can share the ride.” Morton was still nominally Tony’s man, so I reasoned that my husband shouldn’t mind us riding together.

Blitz rose. “I’ll call for the carriage. When do you need it?”

I shrugged. “After breakfast sometime. There’s no hurry.”

Once Blitz left, I said, “Any luck with the search?”

Morton speared a bite of chicken. “Not really.” He chewed, swallowed. “I’m beginning to fear he’s dead.”

Morton and I had been searching for one of his informants, a former Detective Constable named Albert Sheinwold, for over a year.

Finding missing persons was how I began my business as an investigator some eight years before; it was something of a specialty. And up to then, I prided myself in the fact that I’d never once failed a case of any kind.

After some time, Blitz came in through the door to the parlor, smelling of the fresh night air. “Message sent.”

“That took a while,” Morton said.

Blitz let out a short laugh. “I don’t use messenger boys anymore, not where Mrs. Spadros is concerned. I went to the Backdoor and sent a Family man over.”

I nodded. “Good idea.” The Backdoor Saloon was Mr. Howell’s place, and where his men tended to congregate.

Ariana’s little wails emerged from the back room. Blitz went into the hall.

The whole situation with Sheinwold disturbed me. Normally, I’d be the one out doing research and tracking leads, but I’d been beset by one problem after another along the way. “What topic are you researching?”

Morton set down his fork. “A police constable on Market Center has been granted permission to let me see Sheinwold’s case files in the archives there. It’s a building near to the main station by the Plaza. He’s already gone through them, but perhaps I might see something he hasn’t.”

Excitement filled me. “That seems promising!” Some former case might have come back to haunt Mr. Sheinwold, instead of what we’d feared, that the former Federal Agent Zia Cashout had done him in. “Would you like some help? My errand won’t take long.”

“Sure,” Morton said. “I’ll let them know you’ll be by.”

For so long, we’d had few leads — even the police who might speak with us refusing to help at every turn.

This could be the break we’d hoped for.