The Ten of Spades

The Scandal-1

The ScandalAs scandalous as it might sound, I, Jacqueline Kaplan Spadros — a woman still married to the Spadros Family Heir — worked as a private investigator. I’d left Tony over a year ago. My husband refused to divorce me; I refused to return home.

For the past six months, I’d been trying to get a case so I’d have money to pay my bills. But I cared about more than paying bills.

I had to find Joseph Kerr. I hadn’t seen him since the night Tony caught us together in my study.

I didn’t know whether Joe was alive or dead. He’d still been walking with a cane from his terrible accident a few months earlier. Tony had posted a monstrous reward for his capture, so the entire city searched for him, including the Four Families. How could he possibly have survived?

But my best friend Jonathan Diamond seemed to believe Joe was alive, and that thin hope was all that kept me going most days.

And I also had to find little David Bryce’s kidnappers.

David’s oldest brother Nicholas (who we children called Air) had been my best friend until my father killed him when I was twelve. One of the scoundrels who took David claimed he’d taken the boy simply to lure me into their trap. So I felt doubly responsible.

And though I rescued David Bryce, he was by no means well.

I visited David and his mother Eleanora during Yuletide. He’d gotten taller, thinner. Small dark hairs dotted his chin. Yet though he was now thirteen, he still rocked, curled into a ball, just as when I’d found him in that windowless basement over a year earlier.

That bright, happy little boy had been driven mad. And I would destroy those who took him.

Once my bills were paid, I could hire a taxi-carriage and pay my informants. I could find Joe. I could bring David’s kidnappers to justice. I could start rebuilding my life.

So here I was, walking from house to house in hopes that someone would know someone who needed my help.

* * *

Amelia and I managed to cover the south side of East 25th Street before we had to return for tea. While waiting for Blitz to answer the bell, I wearily rested my hand on the sign attached to the wall below my door number:

Kaplan Private Investigations

Discreet Service For Ladies

Blitz opened the door. “No luck, huh?”

I shook my head. “Amelia, this time I’m glad to change out of these clothes.”

Blitz said, “Master Diamond is here.”

I peered past Blitz into the parlor. Tea had been set out, with small sandwiches upon a three-tiered sandwich stand Mary had found at a poorhouse sale.

Jonathan Diamond ventured over to greet us, his smile bright against his dark skin. Jon wore a forest green jacket and trousers, with a charcoal and green waistcoat patterned with the Holy Symbol his Family had taken for its own. His coiled black hair had been cut since I saw him the day earlier, and I wondered if his dastardly and frankly mad identical twin Jack had ever pretended to be Jon, even in play.

“Wait there,” I said. “I’ll be out shortly.”

Jon stopped mid-stride and chuckled, giving me an extravagant bow. “Then, dearest lady, I breathlessly await your return.”

He always did know how to make me laugh.

When Amelia took off my left boot, she gasped. Blood lay upon my sock. When she stripped the sock off, skin flapped there. “You’ve worn through a blister!” Her face turned angry. “Why did you not tell me it pained you?” She rushed to fill my wash bowl with water. “Soak your foot, mum.”

The water was cold, but it felt good. I put both feet in.

A copy of the Golden Bridges had arrived, sent by one of my informants, apparently unaware I had no money to pay her for it. “Who paid the messenger?”

“The butler, mum.”

Amelia would never refer to either Blitz or Mary Spadros by their proper titles, only “the housekeeper” or “the butler,” and that after I rebuked her for her disrespect. From the way she treated them, she seemed to think they’d risen above their proper station.

Amelia insisted on combing the dust out of my thick curls and loosely plaiting my hair, so in the meantime, I read the paper.

The Golden Bridges (“f**k the Fairy Tales, Get the Real Story”) was a tabloid. Full of speculations and wild theories, rumor and gossip. But once in a while, it could be useful.

BRIDGES STRANGLER ATTACKS!

Another Man Dead: Police Blame City

Every five days like clockwork, the fiend some call the Bridges Strangler presents the police with a grisly parcel. Yet the Constabulary seems no closer to finding the scoundrel than when he first began attacking young men over a year ago.

Policemen have been fired and new ones hired, yet the deaths continue. The bodies are often discovered in lower east Spadros quadrant. Some blame the police in that sector for not apprehending the villain.

Commander Norman Pattsz, the official leading the Spadros First Precinct, was overheard at the nearby tavern: “All protocols have been followed to the letter! If the police were given resources to deal with crimes of this nature, perhaps lives might be saved.”

The Spadros Family refuses comment, and their mouthpiece the Bridges Daily ignores the matter altogether. But our sources close to the Family have noted an unusual amount of activity in the Spadros syndicate. The Golden Bridges will investigate this more thoroughly to uncover the Real Story.

I felt pretty sure what the “activity” was about.

Spadros men had rebelled against Roy, rampaging since before my trial. They called themselves the “Ten of Spades” and agitated for Tony’s death. They’d attacked Tony and Sawbuck inside Spadros Manor. One of them even tried to shoot me in the street outside the Courthouse during the trial. If it hadn’t been for Jonathan Diamond, I wouldn’t be here today.

The Bridges Daily had reported two days earlier about a shootout in Spadros quadrant not far from where I lived. A group of Family men were ambushed while delivering a set of chairs to the site of an engagement party which was to take place the next day. Three were killed and several others injured on both sides of the struggle.

This must be the work of these rogues. Who else would attack Family men helping civilians?

The big question was this: were the Spadros rogues in alliance with the Red Dog Gang? I suspected such, but had no proof as yet.

As I paged through the Golden Bridges, I found this:

DIAMOND FAMILY CONTROVERSY?

Five Diamonds In Heated Secret Meeting

According to our Inside Reporter, the five eldest Diamond Heirs met yesterday at the exclusive Baroness Hotel on Market Center. Sources at the hotel state that the meeting involved “loud and heated” discussion. One of the brothers had injuries to his face upon leaving. A bill for damages was presented today by the hotel to Diamond Manor.

Although the nature of their discussion is unknown, the rumors of unrest within the Diamond Family following the historic “Bloody Handshake” upon the courthouse steps last November between Patriarchs Roy Spadros and Julius Diamond may be confirmed.

There have been no reports of, or even further movement towards, peace between the Spadros and Diamond Families in any official manner. But the Golden Bridges stands ready to bring you the Real Story as these events unfold.

Hmph, I thought, as Amelia wrapped my foot. The Golden Bridges mainly stood ready to sell more copies.

The Golden Bridges’ “Inside Reporter” had to be a great number of people, unless possessed with the skill of teleportation. I wondered who these men were. They were brave indeed to publish stories that the Four Families wished hidden.

* * *

Jonathan Diamond must have had a good appetite. By the time I returned to the parlor, half the sandwiches were gone and what little was left of the tea was cold. Mary brought in a fresh pot.

She’d made small sandwiches: mint found by the side of the road, rinsed and chopped into salted cheese she’d made from leftover milk, then spread onto day-old bread. They were delicious.

I turned to Jon. “I hope you’re well?” My glance went to his water-glass, a bit of liquid still remaining from the tonics he took “for his health.”

He smiled at me. “Well enough. And yourself?”

I ignored the pain in my foot. “Resuming business after being on trial is difficult, but I’ll find someone willing to take my services.”

“Have you contacted your former customers?”

This amused me. Every day, Jon arrived with a new idea. Yet today’s idea was one he’d had less than a week after the trial. “Ages ago. They agree to be used as references, and would happily call upon me in the future, but have no need for my services today.”

He rested one arm over the back of the sofa. “Alas, I have no mysteries in my life which need solving. I wish you’d allow me to help, just until you’re on your feet.”

At the time, just one foot. “I won’t allow it.”

“Even as a loan?”

“I owe too much already.” This thought discouraged me.

Jon leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Jacqui, I’m not Tony, and I’m not Mr. Pike. I — I can’t — I don’t want to — I only want to help. If you’ll let me.” He gazed towards the floor. “You’ll be honest with me, will you not? If you’re in need.”

I felt such fondness for him, and yet I was amused. “Today, I am truly not in need. Thank you for reminding me of that.”

“But I don’t want you to even feel anxious of need. I want you happy and well.”

“Jon, I’m perfectly well.” Other than my foot, which felt as if on fire. But mentioning it would only worry him.

He clasped his hands together, dropped his voice so only I might hear. “But are you happy? Is this,” he glanced around, “what you truly want?”

Am I happy? The question had arisen many times in my life up to then, and only a few of those times had the answer been yes. I leaned back, surveying the room. Then I chuckled. “How could I possibly be unhappy with you here?”

Jonathan blushed, smiling to himself. “You insist on flattery when I ask a simple question. Being happy when no one else is around, now that is a worthy goal. Just happy with yourself.”

His words struck me, and my eyes stung.

“I’m sorry, Jacqui. But I don’t think you’re happy at all.”

But this is what I wanted! “I couldn’t breathe there. I couldn’t think. The place was killing me.” Being with Tony was killing me, with his neediness and his constant fear for me and his lies. Night after night, having to pretend I desired him, all the while screaming inside ... “I felt caged.”

“I don’t want you to go back if you don’t want to. But you have to consider what you do want. What you need to be happy. Really, truly happy.” His dark eyes peered into mine. “Because you don’t know how long you have before the Dealer collects your cards.”

“Have you heard anything about Joseph Kerr? Anything at all?”

Jonathan leaned back, glancing away, an edge to his tone. “The search continues. I’ve not heard of any sightings, not of him, or his sister, or his grandfather. Even their maid has disappeared.”

“I know you dislike him, Jon, but —”

“Dislike is the wrong word. I’ve seen what he’s done — is still doing — to you. What he’s done to other women. What he’s been accused of, is being accused of to this day.”

“Could he not be innocent, though? Is it possible all this talk is only talk? Slander? How can you cast him aside on rumor? He’s been your friend, Jon. And he’s only shown me the very best.”

He faced me. “On this matter, we can never agree. Yes, he’s been cordial. But I don’t trust him. And I’ve seen the anguish of the women he seduced then abandoned. The little girls with his eyes clinging to their mothers as they were dragged to a life of whoredom in the Pot.” He pointed towards my bedroom. “I carried you from that very place, where you lay near dead because of him. Don’t ask me to consider his nature, Jacqui. Because it disgusts me.”