Red Dog Conspiracy: A Noir Future Steampunk Crime Family Saga

Frank Pagliacci was still alive. How? "Might I see his letter?"

Anastasia took a letter from several she had marking the place and handed it to me.

The writing seemed different from the false note which started me on Frank Pagliacci's path. It was a man's heavy hand, yet a fine one, showing education and skill at writing. I handed the note back to her. "Thank you."

"Was this information helpful?"

"Very." But it felt surreal. Frank Pagliacci ... still alive? "Where does he live?"

She handed me an envelope. "I send letters to his box at the post office on Market Center."

Not much help there. "What does the man look like?"

Color rose in her cheeks. "He's quite handsome, that one. A charmer. About your age, tall, with brown hair." She paused, then shook her head. "But I can't have anything more to do with him, not after what he did to my horse." She shuddered. "Something is deeply wrong with the man."

I hoped she never learned of the terrible things he had done. Kidnapping, murdering boys ... who knew what else? "I'll begin work at once on your debtors. I know just the person who might be able to help."

On the mile-long walk home, Honor trailing three paces behind, I considered my situation. I didn't miss when I shot Frank Pagliacci. But a serious hit would have left the man dead before he reached a doctor. Between the terrible fall from the overseer platform and the delay before his men got to him, I felt astonished he survived. But he did, and it was only a matter of time before he contacted Jack Diamond and they continued their spree of kidnapping and murder.

Frank Pagliacci said he captured David to lure me. Then after capturing me, he planned to kill the Spadros Family one by one as they tried to rescue me. A foolish plan, but I suppose one an amateur villain with a desperate need for revenge might concoct.

But Jack Diamond's involvement didn't make sense.

Jack Diamond hated the Spadros Family because they supported and protected my father after he murdered Jack's friend. But from all accounts, Jack Diamond was mad. Obsessed with cleanliness, refusing to dress in anything but white, even to the soles of his shoes, sleeping all day then not sleeping for days. He flew into a rage at the Grand Ball and even tried to attack Jonathan, his own twin. Yet at other times, he could appear perfectly normal.

Jack's reputation as a murderer and torturer went city-wide. But Jack had no reputation for convoluted plots such as this.

And he had never targeted children before.

But between Frank Pagliacci and Jack Diamond, Jack (when lucid) was the most dangerous of the two. While the Diamond Family was neither as rich nor as powerful as ours, Jack had enormous resources at his disposal. He could reach even into the Spadros quadrant: he left a Red Dog card on my doorstep despite our guards at the bridges and marinas.

Jack Diamond was a menace. When I had proof of his involvement in David's kidnapping and those boys' murders, I planned to meet with the Four Families. I would demand Jack either be confined to a ward or they allow me to kill him.

Spadros Manor appeared in the distance, a white two story building shaped as a U, its arms pointing towards me. I began to make a list as to who might be able to provide such proof.

Eleanora Bryce, David's mother. A man fitting Jack's description came to her home a week before David was taken. We saw two men put a boy-sized struggling package into a carriage in the Diamond Pot: one man in white, the other in brown. Eleanora told me the man in white was the one who came to her home.

The stable-man at the carriage house on Market Center told me these same two men stole the carriage. The man in brown gave the name Frank Pagliacci. I found David's hair in the carriage, as well as a button and fibers from Frank Pagliacci's jacket.

This wouldn't hold up in front of a Family inquiry. Also, the stable-man and Mrs. Bryce were both lowers, easily discredited.

And even though I was the wife of the Spadros heir, I was a woman. Worse yet, a Pot rag, one of the untouchables, despised just for existing. My upbringing in a brothel, my lack of education, and anything else Julius Diamond could learn would be used to discredit me. And to testify against Jack, I would have to reveal my part in all this. The thought of what Tony and Roy might do if they learned of it terrified me. I had to find solid proof, something no one could gainsay, and I had very little time to do so before Jack Diamond and Frank Pagliacci regrouped.

First, I must send word to everyone involved, warning them that their lives were in danger. I couldn't risk that they'd be targeted without their knowledge. Mrs. Bryce and her son David were in particular danger. David had said nothing since his rescue, but he could not only identify Frank Pagliacci and Jack Diamond but testify against them.

We reached the house and passed the stables. Tony's men stood guard out at the street, tipping their Derby hats as I passed. We walked up the walkway and through the wide front porch. Honor opened the door for me. Pearson stood by his podium, glancing up as I entered. "Ah, there you are, mum. A letter just came for you."

Honor helped me out of my coat, handing it to Pearson. I placed my handbag in my dress pocket and removed my hat, which Pearson also took. "Very good. I'll take it in my study."

I went upstairs to my room, where Amelia sat mending. She stood immediately when I came in. "How was tea, mum?"

Had Pearson not told her about our conversation? "Lovely." I let her change my street boots out for soft house shoes, and then she got me out of my walking dress and into a house dress. I took Dame Anastasia's lock-box key from my handbag and locked it in my dresser drawer.

"I have the blue on blue chintz gown ready for dinner tonight," Amelia said.

I saw no anger at my removing her son from their rooms without consulting her; if I were to guess, she appeared happy. "That's fine, thank you."

The poor child.

Why would Amelia wish her own son gone? I never had a child, but never wanting to see Tony's little sister Katherine? Or for her to think I hated her? It was monstrous.

"Amelia, do you know what happens in the Pot to a man or woman who beats a child?"

She gave me a blank, terrified stare.

"The other adults gather, then beat that person to death." Amelia didn't react, and I took a deep breath to keep my voice from shaking. "So I find it difficult to know the best course here. Shall I dismiss you?"

Amelia came forward and fell to her knees, grasping my skirts. "Oh, please, mum, you can't, not after all I've done for you. I never said anything about your going out at night, or your business, even when Mr. Roy cut me."

"Get up." It was true. This made me angrier. I gritted my teeth to keep from kicking her. "Why does your boy think you hate him? Why do you hit him?"

She turned away. "I ... I become so angry when I look at him, I can't ... I can't think. I know it's wrong, but ..." She covered her face with her hands for a moment. "I can't speak of it, mum ... I can't ... even if I wanted to."

"You've been forbidden to speak of it."

Amelia stared at her hands. "Yes, mum."

This had to be Roy's doing. I clenched the sides of my skirt to keep myself from shouting. "You are not to hit your son again. Is that clear? Or I swear to all the gods above and below, I will dismiss you, and let the cards fall where they may."

I didn't wish to speak to Amelia any further, or even to see her, so I went downstairs and into my study. I lit a cigarette to calm myself.

The letter Pearson spoke of sat in the center of my desk. It was from Madame Marie Biltcliffe, my dressmaker.

Mrs. Spadros,

This notice is to remind you of your appointment for tomorrow, the Sixteenth of February, from 2:00 to 4:30 pm, for the final fitting of your Spring gown. Please advise me at once if this time is no longer acceptable for you.

Your servant, Marie Biltcliffe

I had no such appointment, but inside this note was another:

Mrs. Spadros, I must see you urgently. It is regarding my son. — EB

This must be from Eleanora Bryce. Did David finally speak? The boy had done nothing but rock, sucking his thumb, since Morton and I found him in the basement of Jack Diamond's Party Time factory. If David could identify Jack as the man who kidnapped him, that might be enough to persuade Julius Diamond to restrain his son.

Madame Biltcliffe and I had an arrangement where she would pass notes from clients. She often concocted suitable alibis so I might speak to clients without my husband or his men knowing. But I also needed to speak with Madame further about the break-in at her shop.

And the dress did need hemming.

I wrote a note to Madame telling her the time tomorrow was acceptable, sealed it, then leaned back in my chair. Since the ordeal with finding David, all I wanted was to rest and recover. I still felt weak from my illness, and the walk to and from Anastasia's home left me weary.

I lit a cigarette from the end of the first one and gazed outside my window. The patrolling guards reminded me of our constant danger. I must establish my own income, and soon. If anything should happen to Tony, I would be on my own in a city full of people who hated me. Roy Spadros had made it clear any assistance or protection he offered was for Tony's benefit alone.

But I had no real paying cases at present. This business of Anastasia's hardly qualified. Although the necklace was lovely, I would never sell it unless I found myself in dire straits. It was her lifetime achievement; she treasured it above all things.

I didn't understand why she would just give it to me.

Yet the case itself was straightforward and simple. No police were likely to become involved. It could be handled by attorneys, putting myself in no danger whatsoever. And I had the perfect lawyer in mind.

Well, he wasn't a lawyer, not yet. But I felt certain I could persuade the apprentice law clerk Thrace Pike to help me, perhaps without even having to pay him.

I chuckled to myself (until I began to cough) but felt unsettled about another matter. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed to contact Roy. I knew exactly what he meant by his note: it was time for my shooting lesson. We met every month, always when Tony was away.

Roy could have had Molly send me a letter. Instead, he sent notice through Tony, knowing Tony would show me the note. Yet he didn't specify why he wanted to see me. This indicated he believed Tony didn't know of our lessons.

This seemed unlikely. Tony made no comment or question as to what Roy and I might have to discuss, and he knew Roy would want to come here.

Whether Tony knew of our lessons or not, the important thing was that I got them. I should have killed Frank Pagliacci that afternoon. The next time I had the man in my sights, I wanted to be prepared.

Did I dare contact Roy, after Tony denounced him?

No, I didn't dare, not yet. Perhaps I could find someone else to teach me.

The stable-man was a more difficult matter. I felt at a loss as how to warn him of the danger he might be in. I didn't even know the man's name.

I took another sheet from my writing-desk and wrote:

Stable-master, Market Center

Sir:

We met last month about two men, thieves of a carriage: one named Frank Pagliacci. I have reason to believe you are in mortal danger from these men. They have murdered two boys at least, and may be willing to remove all who might identify them.

I can't advise you as to the precautions you should take, but it might be well to arm yourself.

With sincere regards,

A friend.

I put this note in my pocket. I couldn't send it from Spadros Manor; the messenger boy would tell the stable-man who sent it. I would have to find some other way to get the message to him.

When I gave Madame's note to Pearson, he said, "Peter Dewey wishes to speak with you, mum."

Amelia's husband. Pip's father. "Send him in."

Our stable-man Peter Dewey had brown hair and eyes, and was of medium height. He had changed from his usual work clothes into his best suit. He held a clean but battered gray hat in both hands and peered around, eyes wide.

He had never been in this part of the house before. "How can I help you?"

At this point, he gave a slight start, and focused on me. I didn't rise to greet him. "Begging your pardon, mum." He took a step towards my desk. "It's about my boy." He took another step, and his shoulders straightened as he took a deep breath. "He's too young to go to the men's quarters. He's only ten."

"Why are you letting Amelia mistreat him?"

Peter's whole body jerked as if he had been slapped. "That's none of your affair, mum."

"It is my affair, when a boy in my household says it would be better had he not been born."

Peter stared at me, eyes reddening. "When —?

"Last night. I found him on the stair, wrapped in his quilt."

He began shaking his head. "I'm sorry, mum, he shouldn't have been there —"

"I'm glad he was there. I'm glad he talked to me, and you will not punish him for it."

He paled. "I've never laid a hand on him, mum. Never."

"I know. He defends you."

His shoulders drooped. "No. You can't take my son from me."

"I'm not. He'll be in the same building. On the same floor."

Peter didn't say anything.

I stood up, incensed. "Floorman help us! Think of your boy, instead of your pride."

His head jerked up. "You wrong me, mum. I love the boy —" He stopped, as if he almost said too much.

What was he going to say?

Concern washed away my anger, as I came round the desk. "I only want to help him. He doesn't have to go if he doesn't want to. But give him a chance to live in peace. Whatever's going on, surely he deserves that."

Peter nodded, eyes on the floor. "Thank you, mum."

"I'm sorry for what happened to Amelia. I never —"

He gave me a brief, startled glance, then nodded. "All is forgiven, mum," he said quickly. "I have work to tend to."

"Very well, you may go."

What did he think I meant? What else happened to her? What was going on?

***

Tony didn't get home until time to dress for dinner. He ate silently, shoulders slumped, and went to his study straight after. I sat smoking and sipping wine as the maids cleared the table.

I needed a post box like Frank Pagliacci had so I might send letters without anyone knowing from whence they came.

I chuckled at the thought; if it weren't for that vile man, I wouldn't need to sneak around like this.

I must warn the stable-man of the danger he was in. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't warn him and something happened to the man. Yet I couldn't let anyone know I sent the message. What would Mrs. Jacqueline Spadros know about plots and murder?

Jane Pearson came into the dining room. "Oh, there you are, mum." She came up to me and curtsied.

"Please sit," I said, and she did.

"I've chosen my replacement, mum. Anne should do well."

"A very good choice, thank you."

"My pleasure, mum. Did you decide about the outing?"

I still had Anastasia's list to take care of; planning an outing for several dozen people would take time. I hadn't even thought of where to have it. "After the 100th celebration, perhaps? One major event a month is plenty."

Jane smiled. "Yes, mum, I agree."

I studied Jane. She took care of the house; she would know everything that went on in it, including what happened to Amelia. Pearson and Peter also knew. But Roy forbade them from talking about it. "I'm sure your husband told you I wish to move Pip to the men's quarters."

Jane glanced away. "Yes, mum."

"Do you think it a good thing?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "It's not for me to say, mum."

"But —"

She sat stiffly, face pale, not looking at me. "Under the circumstances, mum, it seems a wise decision."

Under the circumstances. "Thank you." Jane didn't move. "Is there anything else?"

"No, mum." She pushed back her chair and hurried out.

Interesting, but not in a good way. I drained my glass and put out my cigarette. Then I went to Tony's study and knocked.

"Yes?" Tony sat behind his desk, a book in one hand, his forehead leaning on the other as he looked up at me. "Did you need something?"

"I don't mean to disturb you; I just wanted to make sure you were well." I never knew how he would react when he retreated into his study like this, so I stayed in the doorway.

But he gave me a tired smile and put his book down. "It's time we went to bed." He came round to take my hand.

"You look weary," I said as we went up the stairs. "Would you like me to rub your back?"

"That sounds wonderful."

Perhaps I could learn what troubled him.

When we got to our rooms, we separated to let our servants undress us. If Amelia was angry at my threats earlier, she gave no sign of it.

It seemed odd to have a maid dress and undress you, but Molly told me the system of service allowed people to have an income. If we all dressed ourselves and did our own washing, what would they do to survive? At the time it made sense, but the more I saw of it the less I liked it.

Once I was in my gown, Amelia curtsied and left. Tony came back in wearing his pajamas. He smiled, and came over to kiss me. "Now, what were we discussing?"

"I was going to rub your back."

"Yes," he said. He took off his shirt, then lay face down on the bed. I knelt on the bed beside him and began to rub his back.

When I was a little girl, long before I got tangled up with the Spadros Family, Ma taught me how to rub a man's back to get him to tell you his problems. "If we were in the Clubb Pot, we'd be selling their secrets, but it's better here," she said. "They know the Dealers' Daughters won't speak of their troubles to others."

At the time I thought the Clubbs must be wicked to tell someone else's secrets. Now the idea of betraying someone like that just made me sad.

"How did your day go?"

"Mmm," Tony said, "well enough. I never thought this would take so long."

"I'm sorry it's taking so long. Have you run across problems?"

He snorted. "Oh, yes, indeed, all day long it seems. When I go to do one thing, they find three more for me. One wall has bees in it, another termites, so both must be replaced. They can't find the material I wanted in black, because it's all been bought. So we had to find another supplier, who wants to import it from Chicago. Which means I have to fill out yet another form." He sighed, relaxing into the cushions. "I wish I'd never begun this."

"My poor dear." I kissed his forehead, brushing his hair away from his face. "Just think of how beautiful it'll be once it's done."

He rolled onto his side. "Come here." He took me into his arms. "You always try to help me." Then he paused. "Even when I don't deserve it."

"Tony ... I want to say something." I hoped he could hear it. "I have eyes. I know you love Gardena. It's okay. I'm not angry, or hurt, or upset. We can't help who we love —"

"Shh," he said. "I love you. I married you. I don't want to talk about her."

I lay my head on his arm and put my hand beside his face, gazing into his eyes. I had so many questions that he didn't want to answer. And then he kissed me.

A pang of bitter disappointment: all I wanted was for him to talk to me. I closed my eyes, enduring his touch, and went in search of Joe.

***

"NO!" Tony screamed.

Our night footman Blitz rushed in, candle in one hand, the other on his holster. Then he peered at us. "Are you well, sir?"

Tony sat upright in bed, eyes wild. He glanced around, then crumpled, hand to his forehead. "Gods, what a terrible dream."

I sat up. "We're fine, Blitz, thank you." Once he left, I said to Tony, "come here," and I laid his head upon my chest. "What did you dream?"

He didn't speak for several seconds. "I dreamed you were gone." He paused. "I dreamed you left me. You lay there, cold and still, and it was my fault."

I closed my eyes, feeling sad. "Shh ... I'm here. All is well."

He wrapped his arms around my waist. "You're all I have," he said, his voice sleepy. "Please don't leave me."

Was he awake, or asleep? I never heard him say such things before. "I'm here, Tony ... all is well ... just rest." I held him tightly, tears in my eyes as I smoothed his hair.

When Joe was well, if he really wanted to leave with me ... what should I do?

"Jacqui? Please love me."

My heart stopped within me for a moment. What was he asking? I had never lied to him in this area: I never once told him I loved him. What should I say?

But his face grew peaceful; he was asleep.

***

Madame Biltcliffe owned a dress shop on 42nd street in Spadros quadrant. Her shop had a polished oak storefront and large plate glass windows. Inside, it smelled of fresh, clean cloth, and felt warm and inviting.

Madame, a handsome woman of middle age with perfect black hair, came to greet me as I entered. "Mrs. Spadros! So good to see you." She locked the door behind me, turning the front placard to, "Closed: entry by appointment only."

My personal fitting room was ten feet square, with a door-sized curtained opening in the far wall. A small raised area in the center to stand on, and mirrored walls completed the scene. Mrs. Bryce sat in the corner on a stool, standing when I entered.

Eleanora Bryce had graying brown hair and dark eyes, and wore widow's brown. Once the curtain fell behind me, she said, "The man in white came round again."

I stared at her, shocked. Mrs. Bryce lived in the Spadros slums, just outside the Pot. How had Jack Diamond managed to get there without alerting the guards? "What happened?"

She sat on the stool, and Madame gestured for me to take my place on the raised area, so I did.

Mrs. Bryce seemed hesitant. "I didn't know what else to do. After you brought David home, I needed help, so I asked a neighbor to watch him. She was appalled at his condition and asked what happened. I told her as little as I could, but word got out, and the men have been watching for strangers. When they saw him, they chased him away with bricks. They say one hit him, but I didn't see it."

"You did the right thing."

Madame brought in a basket filled with scissors, thread, measuring tapes, and so on. Behind her was her shop maid Tenni.

Tenni, a girl of seventeen, looked like me from behind: light brown skin, curly reddish-brown hair. I sometimes switched clothes with her when on cases, so as to lead my men to believe I remained in the shop. Her eyes were brown and mine blue, but from a distance we looked similar. A shop maid's uniform made a fair disguise for me, as no one would expect Mrs. Jacqueline Spadros to dress in such a way.

"Would you step out so Mrs. Spadros can change, please?" Madame said to Mrs. Bryce.

Mrs. Bryce nodded and went into the main store, letting the curtain fall behind her.

Tenni helped me change out of my dress and into the green silk shantung gown. It was a lovely, serviceable dress, with black cording and embroidery upon the front bodice and waist, extending to the floor. The embroidery curved in such a way as to give the illusion that my waist was quite small. I found that part both intriguing and amusing. "I love it!"

Madame's reflection smiled from behind me as she arranged my skirts. "I'm glad it pleases you." She glanced up. "Mrs. Bryce, you may return if you wish."

Eleanora resumed her seat in the corner. She appeared awed and a bit disturbed. "I never —" She took a deep breath. "One day we must speak of how you came to be here."

Before her son David disappeared, Eleanora knew me only as a dirty, half-starved girl in the Pot. The contrast must have been remarkable. I glanced at Madame and Tenni, remembering the servants' faces at my story on Queen's Night. "It's a long tale, not suitable for gentle folk."

Mrs. Bryce stood. "Then it can wait. I don't dare leave David for long."

"I must tell you one thing more. The man we saw with him," I glanced at Tenni, who knelt in front of me, pinning my hem, "the one in brown. He still lives. Tell your neighbors of him as well."

Mrs. Bryce's eyes widened. "Thank you."

"And please give my regards to your son. I will visit the moment I'm able."

She curtsied. "I will." She left through the back curtain; the back door opened and shut.

"Madame, I hope this is not too distressing, but would you tell me again of the break-in?"

Madame glanced up at my reflection from where she knelt behind me. "It was during Yuletide, a few days before New Year's. Mr. Roman across the street sent his shop maid to my home in the morning with the news."

I frowned. "Mr. Roman?" The name seemed familiar.

"Yes, the jeweler."

Ah, a name from the list. "Did either of them see anything?"

"He noticed the broken glass when he came to open the shop. The girl never saw a thing." Madame Biltcliffe worked in silence for a few minutes. "But there was one thing odd." She paused. "It may be nothing ..."

Something about the way she said it made me uneasy. "What? Any detail may help."

"Well," Madame said, "there was a card, as one might use for calling, with a dog stamped on it in red. I had never seen such a thing before."

The Red Dog Gang.

I found that same stamp on the wall outside David Bryce's back stair after he disappeared. A card with the same stamp was left on my front steps. Red Dog stamps and cards had appeared at the scene of petty crimes throughout the Clubb quadrant shop district for weeks now. And the police found a Red Dog card on Herbert Bryce's body after he was strangled to death.

Madame said, "What does it mean?"

I said, "I've seen this stamp before. I'm not certain of all the meanings this stamp might have. But it seems to be connected with a street gang called the Red Dogs." The Red Dog members I had met so far vigorously denied responsibility for the crimes, horrified at being framed for murder and kidnapping.

"A street gang? Why would children wish to break into my shop, ruin the room, then take nothing?" She paused, gazing to the side. "I had forgotten to go to the bank that evening; I had my whole day's take in the cabinet. It was still in the bag, untouched."

These were not the actions of a street gang. "Madame, what's in that room? What do you keep there?"

She sat back on her heels. "It's my office and where I store papers. Extra receipt books, writing paper, ink." A line appeared between her perfect black brows. "Invoices. Files. Measurements. I keep a folder on each woman so I may begin work as soon as I get the order. She shook her head. "I don't know what they wanted."

"Were the files touched?"

"Everything was scattered," she said. "It was as if they wished to create as much chaos as possible. Thank the Dealer they didn't open the ink! As it was, it took us hours to put it right."

"And was every page accounted for? Nothing's missing?"

She shrugged. "As far as I know. I would have to go over my ledgers to make sure all the invoices remain there, and check each woman's files to be sure."

Frank Pagliacci's kidnapping of David was personal. His mad boasts when he thought he had me, Morton, and David trapped only confirmed it. "Check mine first. If you find anything missing, even the smallest scrap, notify me at once. It could be important."

She nodded, then began measuring the distance from my hem to the floor at different points. "I learned more about that button of yours."

"Oh! Wonderful! What did you learn?"

"The buttons are carved by hand. Only twenty were made."

This was good news indeed. "And what jackets were made with them?"

"That I don't know. But when we are finished here, I'll give you what I have."

"Madame, when will my dress be ready?"

She smiled. "I can finish it tonight. You may fetch it whenever is convenient. I imagine you'll want it for the Celebration, no?"

I would rather go to the Fire than to a celebration of the destruction of the Pot. But Madame had worked hard on my dress, so I said, "You've done a splendid job. It will be the best gown there."

Madame gave me a paper with her notes about the button, and I gave her the letter to mail to the stable-man on Market Center. As I returned to Spadros Manor, I considered the break-in.

The break-in at Madame's shop was the key. No one would break into a dress shop office unless they wanted information on a customer. From all the evidence, it was likely the customer was me. The kidnappings, the ambush on Tony, and the theft of our Party Time shipment were all distractions. Perhaps even the murders of those boys were distractions as well. Their purpose was to keep me from investigating the break-in until Jack Diamond and Frank Pagliacci could put their real plan into place.

What did Madame's shop have?

My measurements, the writing paper, records of Madame's transactions with Tony.

Invoices with his signature.

The forged note on New Year's Eve took on new meaning.

Well, their plan worked.

It galled me; I had been so blind.

I wanted to visit David, but there was nothing else to do.

I must tell Tony of the break-in at once.