Red Dog Conspiracy Sets

Chapter 7-1

The Arraignment

“Wake up.”

Someone pushed my shoulder.

Or was I dreaming?

“Get up!” Urgent, demanding.

A charcoal fog. I couldn’t feel my right arm.

This is gonna hurt.

“Young lady, you get up this instant!”

My mother-in-law, Molly.

I’d never dreamed of Molly before.

Or was I awake?

My arm began to tingle in a nauseating way. My left shoulder was grabbed tightly, shaken. My head throbbed. My mouth was so dry I couldn’t speak.

What happened? Where was Tony? Why was his mother here?

Then I remembered where I was: the bottom front room of my apartments on 33 1/3rd Street, Spadros quadrant.

I remembered why I was here: I was under house arrest.

I remembered why I left Spadros Manor: to flee Bridges with Joseph Kerr, the only man I had ever loved.

And Joe was dead.

“Jacqueline Spadros,” Molly snapped, “if you don’t get up right now, I’ll call Roy.”

I rolled off my arm, which tingled furiously. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting pain, grief, despair. “Call him, then. Maybe he’ll kill me, and this nightmare’ll be over with.”

An angry stomp of footsteps retreating.

My beloved Joe was gone.

Holding hands as we walked in a late summer’s golden light … kissing in the moonlight … that one night of love before they stole me from him … the passion in his face as he held me in my lamp-lit study … his last words: but we have no time.

but we have no timeHe’d been right. What was I thinking? The instant Joe said we might leave, I should have done so. What could have possibly been more important?

The footsteps returned, more slowly this time.

I killed him.

I killed Joe, just as surely as whoever pulled the trigger.

A cold shock!

I sat up, dripping wet. “What the hell?”

Molly stood in front of me, pitcher in hand. “You’re due at the courthouse on Market Center in an hour for your arraignment hearing. Yet here you are in bed! What’s wrong with you?”

My lady’s maid Amelia cowered in the corner, hands to her mouth, fear in her eyes. “You wouldn’t wake up, mum.”

Molly grabbed my right arm, and I cried out as the numb tingling nausea returned full force.

The room wavered. How many bottles did I drink last night?

Molly snapped at Amelia, “You, get over here.”

They stripped off the clothes Regina Clubb gave me at her hotel two days earlier as fast as they could.

No, wait, I thought, that couldn’t be right. I left the hotel on Thursday. Wasn’t this Saturday? Why would we go to the courthouse today? “A hearing? How was I supposed to —”

Molly glared at me. “The notice.”

A sealed envelope sat on my dresser. Was it there when I arrived? I couldn’t remember.

What day was this?

Clubb Hotel had been a nightmare all its own. The way that woman laughed …

I felt sick to my stomach.

Molly pulled me n***d towards the tub. “This is going to be the fastest bath ever. Gods, you stink of booze.”

The water was cold!

Hands forced me under, pulled me out, water spraying across the room. They threw towels around me, rushed me into clothes, shoved me into a chair by my mirror.

Dripping thick curls, standing every which way, makeup smeared. Combs pulled my head this way and that.

Molly got out scissors. “These tangles must go.”

I clasped my head, horrified. “No!”

She began snipping. “It’s just the ends, dear.” She set the scissors down, dipped a soft cloth in cold cream, wiped my face. “We’ll do your hair in the carriage.”

Amelia winced as she knelt before me, tying my right boot.

Empty bottles littered the floor. A crow cawed in the middle of the empty street. Panicked dread hit me. “My bird!”

Pushing past Amelia, I rushed to its cage. My poor clawed bird lay bound in its bandages, eyes closed, panting.

A flood of relieved gratitude: it was alive! “Bring water, Amelia.” I dribbled some into its mouth, and it drank greedily.

Remorse struck. How had it survived?

Amelia took something from her pocket and put it into mine. “Your tenants’ money. I collected it whilst you were gone.”

I’d never considered it. “That was kind of you, Amelia.” Especially after the way I’d treated her.

Molly let out a snort of derision, grabbed my arm, dragged me out to the navy blue carriage, and thrust me inside.

Just like Ma did when she sent me away …. I blinked away tears as I pictured Ma pulling me from my bed. Shoving me into that carriage. The disgust on her face as she turned away.

Just like Ma did when she sent me awayAmelia had followed. Molly snapped, “Get the room in order.”

Amelia curtsied low. “Yes, mum, right away.”

“And give my bird more water, please,” I called out as we drove away.

This wasn’t my carriage. Where was my carriage? The thin black curtains were pulled, which left us sitting in dim light as the carriage barreled along.

Molly snapped, “Why did you tell him?”

Why“Tell who what?”

My head yanked backwards. Molly hissed in my ear. “How dare you tell my son his marriage was a sham! And in a letter from the hand of a servant! What has he ever done for you to hurt him so?”

She let go, and I faced her. “I told him the truth. No one else was going to.” All those years of pain and terror had been for nothing. Joe was dead! “I couldn’t live like that anymore.”

Molly pulled at my hair again, but only to braid it. “You do things without thinking, then you leave others to clean the mess.”

No, I’d considered the matter ever since Ma shoved me into that carriage six years earlier. I had Tony buy my bird when we married so I’d never forget I lived in a cage. I knew there would be no way out unless I made one.

Tony deserved the truth. I even told him the plan in my letter!

toldBut Joe had the tickets, and he never arrived at the station.

Molly opened a hatbox which sat across from us. Inside lay my forest green velvet hat Madame Biltcliffe made for the Grand Ball.

Madame. Another person hurt because of me.

“Come on,” Molly said as she took out the hat, but her tone was kind. “We’re almost there.”

The carriage slowed. A man shouted, “Make way!”

The crowd roared. How many people were out there?

outMolly’s face was grim. “I can’t be seen with you.”

After an instant of confusion, I realized why. In leaving Tony, I betrayed the Spadros crime syndicate. If his parents were seen helping me, they could lose the quadrant. “I understand.”

Molly patted my shoulder. “Good girl.” She pulled a thick veil over her face, shrinking back as the door opened.

A man dressed in the navy blue livery of the Court extended his hand. His polished silver buttons bore the patina of long use.

Real silver on livery, I thought. These must be trusted men!

Beyond him, people filled the area as far as I could see. As I emerged, the roar increased; cameras flashed by the dozens. A sea of banners denouncing me danced atop the close-packed throng. My hair dripped down the back of my neck; the air felt chill.

The way to the courthouse was clear, six feet wide. Police lined my path on both sides, their shoulders touching as the crowd surged against them. Here and there one stumbled, an enraged group pushing against the weight of his body.

A guard on each side took my arm as if they did this every day. Ten armed members of the Court surrounded us, pistols drawn, scanning the crowds, the rooftops.

None of the men near me spoke, not that any of them could have been heard through the screaming.

“Pot rag w***e!”

“Murderess!”

“Betrayer!”

A rock flew past to shatter on the ground in front of me.

I focused upon the Courthouse: sandstone walls, white marble steps. Four pillars of white stone supporting a wide overhang.

A crowd of police kept people back from the doors. Once the doors closed behind me, the vast hall fell eerily silent.

The hall had sandstone walls and ceiling with walnut banisters, the floor tiled in a grayish tan. I’d just been inside it the week prior to give the testimony which seemed to have doomed me.

But instead of going to the Family box upstairs, I was taken across the hall and along a long passage to my right, to a door marked “Room A.”

This room, mostly empty, had many pew seats facing towards a small railing which came to my hip. The wood in this room was of a golden stain, darker than the oak the Clubb Family used.

The rows with their wide aisles reminded me a bit of the Cathedral where I grew up, although this room was much smaller. Men dressed in Court livery stood at intervals along the walls holding rifles, the butts of their weapons on the floor.

To my right, ten rows before the small railing, Master Jonathan Diamond and Mr. Charles Hart sat beside each other. Both were dressed for the street, their black top hats resting on either side. Jon’s tight-coiled black and Mr. Hart’s stiff-straight silvery-red hair still held the faint imprint of their hats.

Jonathan was a welcome sight, and not entirely unexpected. He was Keeper of the Court, after all, as well as my best friend. Charles Hart’s presence, though, was a mystery. What possible interest might the Hart Patriarch have in this?

Beyond the railing, one long table lay on either side. A black-robed man sat upon a raised area, the seal of the Merca Federal Union upon it. At floor level on one side of the judge, a man sat with a contraption resembling a typewriter perched on its stand. A middle-aged uniformed man stood on the other side holding a thick staff. Beside him, a shotgun rested on its stand.

The tables at the front of the room were full. To my left, District Attorney Chase Freezout, a tanned, white-haired man in his sixties, sat in the middle of his table, several men on both sides.

To my right, the Spadros attorney Mr. Primero Trevisane sat, leaving the end seat near me empty. My husband Tony sat at the far end, his straight black hair disheveled.

When my guard opened a small gate in the railing, Tony jerked round towards me, his dark blue eyes stunned and disbelieving. A bandage lay on the side of his face.

What happened to Tony?

Ten Hogan, Molly’s nephew, who the men called Sawbuck, loomed beside Tony, glaring at me.

Once I sat, the judge took a wooden hammer and rapped a wooden block, which made a surprisingly loud sound. “Case Number CF-1899-903, the People vs Jacqueline Spadros. Mrs. Spadros, please rise.” The judge took up a paper. “Jacqueline Kaplan Spadros, you’re charged with the destruction of Travelers’ Federation Flight A26; two hundred fifteen counts of murder; sixteen counts of forgery; four counts of perjury; and one charge of criminal fraud. How do you plead?”

“I did none of this!”

Mr. Trevisane said, “Your Honor, the defendant pleads not guilty to all charges.”