Warehouse Manager Found Shot
I stared at the few lines about Joe and Josie’s uncle. He was forty. The police thought he surprised a robber.
First Marja, then Joe and Josie’s uncle. How many more people would die for their connection to me?
At breakfast, I showed the paper to Tony. “He worked for the Clubbs. Marja worked for him.”
Tony frowned. “Do you think this is related?”
“Tony, he’s Joe’s uncle. Marja overheard something in his warehouse and tried to warn me and now they’re both dead. I don’t know what to think.”
Tony peered at the paper. “It says here the man’s name was Shigo Rei. You say he was Joe’s uncle?”
“Josie said it.” She also said the man changed his name to hide the fact that he was a Kerr. An investigation into his past might harm others in his family. “Maybe the man was their mother’s brother.” In either case, this would make him a Pot rag too. How did he get a job working as a manager?
Tony sat, hand to his chin. “I should never have involved the police. This is a Family matter.” He shook his head. “I have too much to do right now to deal with this. I’ll have Ten assist you.”
“Oh,” I said, both surprised and hesitant.
Tony grinned. “You might need another gun. Or a fist, should it come to that. There may be a time where a huge group won’t do, and I’ll feel better knowing he’s looking after you.”
Interesting. So Sawbuck wasn’t just Tony’s right hand man, but his enforcer as well.
* * *
Right after morning meeting, we left for Market Center.
The courthouse on Market Center was an imposing white edifice which sat upon a base of red brick, almost obscured by the press of the crowd. Shouting reporters, camera-men flashing their photos, men calling out words, shaking their fists, holding up banners in support or derision.
Our men made us a path. Black wrought-iron banisters guided us up the white stone steps to a grand hall whose doors stood open beyond majestic pillars. Inside, an expansive lobby tiled in golden stone teemed with people. Our guards pushed through the throng, who parted more readily than those outside. We climbed the wide curving steps to our left, to a private room where we might observe the proceedings. It did most resemble the boxes at the Opera House.
So many people sat down below that I felt afraid at the thought of being called before them. A man spoke loud and eloquent from a podium on the lower level, with a group of men seated on a raised stage before him intently listening. The room itself was lit brightly, but no lights shown on the box itself, throwing us into relative darkness.
The Hart Family sat in front of us, the Clubbs beyond them in front of the Diamonds. None seemed to notice our presence.
The Diamond Family sat on the far side of our assigned row, with Jon closest. He focused on the proceedings, apparently unaware of our entry. I glanced at Tony, who smiled. “Go ahead.”
So I moved to sit by Jonathan Diamond. While grateful that I didn’t have to sit near Gardena, or worse yet, her dreadful oldest brother Cesare, for the first time I felt uneasy in Jon’s presence. His mad twin Jack Diamond was absent, for which I felt relieved.
My procession down the row caught the attention of the Diamonds; they glanced over yet did not rise. I folded my hands in my lap and watched the spectacle before me. I didn’t understand most of what was being said, but the man at the podium seemed enraged.
“I must speak with you,” Jon whispered.
I didn’t move. “Why did you lie to me?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him lean forward. “I have loved you more dearly than you know, Mrs. Spadros —”
He’d never called me that in a private conversation before, and it stung.
“— but if you chide me now, when I was forced to choose between the life of my sister and a possible insult to your feelings, then ... you’re a different woman than I thought.”
I felt ashamed of myself. “Forgive me.”
He didn’t speak for some time, and I sat in misery, hearing nothing that was said. Of course, Jon was right. He’d always spoken truth to me, which was why his deception cut me so deeply. It felt as if a support had dropped from under me, a betrayal on top of all the others which composed my life.
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Yet what if he had told me the truth in February? Who might have been listening? What might Roy Spadros do to Gardena and little Roland? Gardena might now be dead at Roy’s hand, with Roland a hostage, the Diamond Family helpless to stop whatever Roy might do to or with the child.
I wiped my eyes with my handkerchief and sighed. “You’re right, as you always are.”
“I care nothing about being right. Only about those I hold dear.” He paused. “Which is why I must speak to you.”
“Speak, then.”
Judith Hart turned round and glared at us.
“Not here,” he whispered.
Another man stood up, burns on his face. He spoke of loading the cargo, described the zeppelin lifting off, his shock and pain after the tremendous explosion which followed. The chamber, full of people, stood silent during his speech. After he spoke, the crowd murmured, some applauding.
Then a man in the center of those on the stage struck a small hammer on a block of wood. “We shall recess until 3 pm.”
I gave Tony a questioning glance, and he said, “Luncheon.”
Was it that late already? The clock to the wall at our right chimed noon, and I stood, laughing. “Long luncheon.”
“Indeed,” Jon said from behind.
I followed Tony along the row and out to the hallway. Roy and Molly were already partway down the stair.
Jon grabbed my arm and pulled me aside, out of sight of the stair. Tony followed.
“There’s too much you don’t know,” Jon said to us. “Have you conferred with your attorneys?”
“Some,” Tony said. “But they’ve told us nothing, other than their assurances that the inquest goes well.”
“It’s not going well at all,” Jon said. “I’m not allowed to speak with your attorneys,” he glanced around, “and as Keeper of the Court, I shouldn’t be seen speaking with you either.”
“Jon, whatever are you talking about?”
Tony shook his head, finger to his lips.
“Admit no fault in this whatsoever,” Jon said. “I wish you could deny being there, but it’s too late for that now.” He turned to me. “You shouldn’t have laughed up there in the box. Too many people saw you. Keep a sober demeanor when in public from now on. Say only what the lawyers tell you to. Your life depends on it.”
“But why?”
Cesare Diamond called sharply from down the stairs, “Jon!”
Tony’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Jon glanced towards his brother’s voice. “I must go. Did you get my letter?”
“Yes, but —”
“Just heed what I wrote and all will be well.” He hurried off as fast as he ever did, which was a moderately rapid walk.
Oh, gods, I thought. I burned the letter. “Jon, wait!”
Tony put his hand on my arm. “Leave it be, Jacqui.”
“But Tony —”
“He’s Keeper of the Court, Jacqui. He mustn’t be seen to favor us. The lawyers can answer any questions you have.”
I shook my head. I didn’t even know what to ask.
What had I gotten myself into?
* * *
When we returned home, I had Pearson find Sawbuck and ask him to attend me at his convenience. After getting changed, I found the scrap of paper Marja held in her hand when I found her dead, and brought it to my study.
Spread out upon the desk, it was the size of my palm. Dirty, with smudged pencil scratches upon it, the scrap had been ripped from cheap paper. Newsprint?
I remembered Mr. Blackberry telling me that Dame Anastasia and someone fitting Frank Pagliacci’s description were in the Bridges Daily giving Mr. Durak their false interview. They could have gotten a piece of newsprint from there.
But I couldn’t read whatever might be written on it.
I held the paper up to the light. A knock came at the door.
“Come in,” I said.
Sawbuck stuck his head in. “You wanted to see me?”
I put the paper down. “Yes! Please come in.”
Sawbuck pulled a chair over, sitting across my desk from me. Which felt strange.
I said, “We need to talk.”
He bit his lip and nodded, not meeting my eye. “I realize what you must think. But I’ve not betrayed you.”
I let out an amused laugh. “That wasn’t why I called you. But I’m curious: how did you come to be here?”
Sawbuck smiled fondly. “Aunt Molly has ever doted on me. Even as a small boy I visited often.” He pointed over his shoulder. “I used to bounce on that sofa. I don’t recall Mr. Anthony’s birth, but they tell me I was taken with him even then.”
“You were what, six?”
“I suppose. After Master Roy Acevedo was murdered, Mr. Anthony’s father chose me as his protector.”
“A boy of eight?”
“I was large for my age, yet as a child, I could be at his side where men might not be allowed.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it was too much responsibility. But here he is, alive still.”
“And here you are.”
“And here I am. Alive still.” He gave a wry grin. “Which is some feat in Bridges.”
Especially as someone opposed to Roy. But perhaps Roy let Sawbuck live, knowing every day spent beside the man he loved but unable to speak of it would be torture. I nodded.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Spadros?”
“Has Roy Spadros said anything about our driver’s death?”
Sawbuck sat motionless, staring at me. “No, he hasn’t.”
“Or our visit to the Harts?”
His jaw dropped. “You don’t think —”
“That he had our driver shot? No. But with the way he feels about the Harts —”
Sawbuck let out a breath. “He might leave Mr. Anthony to his own devices. As punishment.”
“I thought so.” I tapped my pen on the blotter, laid it down. “So we’re on our own.”
“Until the old codger decides a new torture is more fun.”
“Indeed.” I held up the paper. “This was in Marja’s hand when we found her.” I handed it to him. “Can you see anything?”
Sawbuck scrutinized it, held it up to the light. He shook his head. “Nothing.” Then his eyes narrowed, and he sniffed it.
“Onion?”
“No,” he said, handing it back.
I sniffed the paper but didn’t smell anything. This had to be in her hand for a reason. “Let’s try anyway.”
I went to an electric lamp and turned it on, placing the paper over the bulb. A message began to appear in brown. “Not onion.” A caramel odor wafted through the room. “Sugar water.”
The writing was tiny, block-printed:
I KNEW YOU’D FIGURE THIS OUT.
I BELIEVE YOU TOO DANGEROUS
TO KEEP ALIVE. BUT I NEED HIM.
SINCE HE WANTS YOU, WE’RE BOUND
TO EACH OTHER A WHILE LONGER.
He? He who?
WHEN I’VE DESTROYED THE SPADROS FAMILY,
WE’LL KILL THEM. THEN WE’LL TAKE THE CITY
AND YOU WON’T STOP IT. YOU’RE MAKING THIS
A CHALLENGE. SO I’LL GIVE THIS ADVICE:
DON’T CHASE OUTSIDERS.
YOUR FED WILL BE DEAD
SOON ENOUGH.
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