Red Dog Conspiracy Sets

Chapter 7-2

“So entered,” the judge said. “I take it then, Mr. Trevisane, that you plan to be this woman’s defender?”

Mr. Trevisane said, “The Spadros Family drops the charge of fraud, raised when the defendant’s location was in question.”

The judge said, “Very well. I —”

I blurted out, “Doyle Pike will represent me.”

Everyone in the room turned to stare.

The judge peered at me. “This is most irregular.” Then he called out, “Get Pike in here.”

A man scrambled to obey.

The judge said, “Mrs. Spadros, is Mr. Pike aware you wish him to represent you?”

“Mr. Pike is already my lawyer. I was unaware of this meeting until an hour ago. Perhaps he wasn’t notified either.”

Tony stared at me with horror. Very few knew about his son Roland, and I was sure he now regretted ever telling me. I would never tell Mr. Pike about the boy, but Tony didn’t know that.

“This court will recess for one hour.” The judge banged his small hammer, and everyone rose as he walked out.

I stood there not knowing what to do. My head hurt, and I felt weary. Looking back, I’m pretty sure I was still drunk.

At the far end of the table, Tony argued with Mr. Trevisane. Past them, Sawbuck’s hate-filled eyes bored into mine. To my left, Mr. Freezout stood, arms crossed, a smug smile on his face.

I sat.

Joseph Kerr and Nicholas Bryce had died to free me from the Spadros Family. So I couldn’t see any reason for Mr. Trevisane — a Spadros Family lawyer — to represent me.

But I already owed Doyle Pike an inordinate amount of money.

Pike can f*****g bill me.

Tony stormed around the front of the table. On the bandage beside his face, blood seeped through a teardrop-shaped spot.

Alarm spiked inside when I saw the blood. What happened?

Tony said, “Get up.” He winced when he spoke. When I didn’t move, he grabbed my upper arms, dragging me to my feet. “What do you think you’re doing? Do you want to die?”

want“What are you so angry about?”

youHe scoffed, releasing his grip a bit. “As if you don’t know. Doyle Pike’s not getting one dime from me, you hear? Not one.”

“I don’t want your money. I want nothing to do with you.”

His grip on my arms tightened. “You’re going to stop this nonsense right now. My father’s f*******n anyone to kill you —”

Oh?

“— so you needn’t fear returning. You’ll tell them you made a mistake. You don’t want Mr. Pike. Then we’re returning to Spadros Manor, and this w*****g will stop. Do you understand?”

Whoring? I felt bitter. “I was never a w***e until I married you.”

Whoring?Tony’s face went blank. “I don’t understand.”

“Isn’t that what this quadrant-marriage is about? Forced to pretend you love someone to survive? To be violated night after night, unable to say a word, make a sound, even shed a tear, for fear of death? At least Pot w****s get a choice.”

I’d become resigned to my fate long ago. But Joe … how could I forgive killing a man whose only crime was to love me? “I’d rather die than return with you.” I spit in his face. “Go to hell.”

He let go of my arms and took a step back, face shocked.

Everyone else in the courtroom pretended they didn’t see.

Tony took out his handkerchief, wiped his face. “I can’t believe I used to love you.”

I turned away to lean on the small railing, trying desperately not to cry in front of these people.

He knew how to hurt me, Tony did, more than anyone.

“I ought to kill you right now,” Sawbuck growled. He stood close by to my left across the railing. Yet he didn’t touch me.

“You’re welcome to try.” At least thirty officers of the Court stood in the room. “I did what I thought best. It was you and your men who fouled everything up.” If they hadn’t killed Joe, we’d have been far away. Yes, Tony would’ve been hurt, but he could’ve had what was best for everyone.

Sawbuck peered at me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Doyle Pike strode in. At least eighty, the man nevertheless appeared as perfect as a man of his age might appear: vigorous, well-groomed, immaculately dressed by the finest clothier, silk hat, soft leather briefcase, gleaming walking-stick. He approached me as if entirely at home, confident and unhurried. Tucking his case under one arm, he took my hand. “Come with me, my dear.”

The guards escorted us through a side door into a windowless, richly carpeted room with a table of polished oak in its center.

“Leave us,” said Mr. Pike. Once the door closed behind them, Mr. Pike gestured to the table. “Please sit, madam.”

So I did, curious as to what he might have to say.

“No one listens,” Mr. Pike said. “So you may speak without fear of discovery.” He took a pale yellow folder from his briefcase then placed the briefcase under the table. “And no one can force me to betray you, under law older than Merca itself.”

I nodded, impressed. But I felt disturbed by today’s events. “I did nothing wrong. How can they force me to have this trial?”

“They can’t. Change your plea to guilty, and you can go straight to the gallows. It’s entirely your choice.”

I stared at him, appalled. “But —”

“I’m sure you feel the need to maintain you didn’t do this -”

“I didn’t!”

“Yes, my dear, everyone says that. And I’m sure that out of all my many thousands of clients over the decades, you’re innocent as a newborn babe. But right now, maintaining that isn’t helpful.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s even more fundamental: I don’t care whether you did it. I’m not here to judge you. My responsibility is to obtain you a fair trial. The only way I can do that is to know the entirety of the matter.” He folded his hands atop his folder. “So tell me what happened with the zeppelin. The truth. Or hire another lawyer.”

His attitude was infuriating. But I should never have expected him of all people to believe me.

I really needed a drink.

Where to begin? “This goes back much further than the day of the Celebration.”

I told him about my private investigation business, and the call to Bryce Fabrics on New Year’s Eve, where Mrs. Eleanora Bryce asked me to find her son David.

Mr. Pike didn’t seem alarmed, shocked, or even surprised at my running a business. Did he have spies of his own?

“During my investigation, I learned two men were involved in the disappearance: one calling himself Frank Pagliacci, the other fitting the description of Jack Diamond.”

Mr. Pike paled. “So this is why you wanted notice of Jack Diamond’s whereabouts. What have you become involved in?”

“Master Jack Diamond has targeted me, my father, and the Spadros Family for over a decade.” The last time we met, Jack became so enraged at his identical twin Jonathan for sitting with me at the Grand Ball that he attacked him. “These two men run a group called the Red Dog g**g. Mrs. Bryce told me this second man visited her home the week before the k********g. I saw the two men place a large bag with a boy in it into their carriage.”

Mr. Pike nodded slowly, his face thoughtful.

“I tracked the boy to a factory in Diamond quadrant, yet he’s ruined, unable to tell us anything.” I sighed, feeling melancholy. “When I went to the factory, Mr. Pagliacci said his goal was to destroy the Spadros Family.” Then something else came to mind. “Two boys who went looking for David were found strangled. You might’ve seen it in the papers.”

Mr. Pike raised an eyebrow at that.

“After I retrieved David Bryce, those who could identify these two men began dying. The stable-master, who told me Frank Pagliacci’s name. An associate who knew Mr. Pagliacci had his yacht blown up. And Dame Anastasia confessed to being Frank Pagliacci’s lover the day she was killed.”

Mr. Pike stared at me, mouth open. “Is that so?”

“They’ve framed me, Mr. Pike. But I didn’t do it.”

“Can you prove it?”

“Anastasia was my friend! I had no reason to hurt her.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me about the day it happened? Anything at all may help.”

So I told him about Dame Anastasia’s letter, received as I left to go to Market Center with Gardena Diamond and her brothers. I didn’t know how else to explain why I was with them but the truth: Gardena was being blackmailed.

At this, Mr. Pike’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Then I told him about the man in brown with the briefcase, and my belief that Frank Pagliacci meant to bomb the zeppelin. “I was desperate to get to the station, but —”

“Wait,” Mr. Pike said. “You just learned that Dame Louis had been helping the man who’d not only ruined your friend’s son but tormented you and your Family. Why rush to save her?”

“You must promise not to speak of this to anyone.”

Mr. Pike nodded.

“It wasn’t just Anastasia on there. These men threatened my mother. I’d smuggled her onto that very zeppelin to get her safe.”

“Oh, my dear,” Mr. Pike said. “I’m so very sorry.”

“I got to the station too late, and I was caught there with the others. There was nothing else I could do but to give my name.”

“So you were there when it happened.”

To this day, I’ve never forgotten the horrible sound as the Station shattered. The screams of men, women, and children impaled beside me by thick shards of stained glass. The smell of blood, of burning pieces of zeppelin as they fell to the ground.

“Why were you at Clubb Hotel?”

I sighed, watching the zeppelin fall. “Speak with Mrs. Clubb as to how you want to play that. She’s taken me under her protection.” I focused on him. “But if you want to know the truth, I’ve left my husband. I don’t plan to return.”

“I see.” He leaned back. “So how will you pay me?”

I stared at the table. “I don’t know. But I will. I promise.”

“Promises are not good enough. I’m not running a poorhouse.”

This reminded me so much of what Mrs. Clubb said a few days earlier that I laughed in spite of myself.

Mr. Pike’s face changed, as if he had come to some decision. He took out a form. “Sign here, and we’ll get started.”

I felt uneasy. “What happens now?”

“Have your things sent to where you’re staying. As much as you can get. Everything, if you can.” He gave me an evil grin. “We’ll sell them.” Then he leaned back. “Once you’re acquitted, I shall sue the city for false and malicious prosecution. You couldn’t possibly have blown up a zeppelin with your mother aboard, and it sounds as if you have several witnesses to back you up.”

I signed without reading it. “Why are you helping me?”

“To thwart that sniveling a*s Trevisane. I wish I’d seen his face when you named me as your counsel.” He cackled in delight. “I imagine it about sent him into apoplexy!”

meA knock at the door. “The judge requests your presence.”

“Come, my dear,” Mr. Pike said, “we have much to do.”