Red Dog Conspiracy: A Noir Future Steampunk Crime Family Saga

As I walked up Snow Street in the lightning storm, sodden and discouraged, I thought about the Masked Man.

Ma thought I slept. But after Eleanora took Air’s body, the Masked Man entered our quarters. I peeked through the gap between the too-small door and its jamb. Ma told him everything while he listened.

“Well, this is a situation,” the Masked Man said.

“She’s gonna ask,” Ma said. “What do I tell her?”

“You know very well what to tell her.” They went out of view and sound.

After he left, I heard my mother sobbing, and the memory brought me to tears as I walked that rainy street ten years later. It was the first and last time I ever heard her cry.

I never saw him again.

The rain poured down. A carriage pulled up beside me. Major Blackwood leaned out of the window. “Madam, would you care for a lift?”

I stared at him while a footman came round. Then I thought, what the hell, and got inside.

“Spadros Manor,” Major Blackwood called out, and the carriage lurched into motion.

“Thank you,” I said.

The round old man smiled. “Always glad to be of assistance, my dear. I almost didn’t recognize you with that get-up on, but I had a time when I was temporarily snow-blinded when I was in the military, and I learned to take note of the way people walk as a means of identifying them. It is like a habit to me, and I was riding along and saw you and thought to myself, Major Blackwood, that is Mrs. Jacqueline Spadros walking in this hellish weather, and her without so much as a coat! Why, it wouldn’t have been gentlemanly of me to just let you —”

“I appreciate your help. I would also appreciate you not speaking of this matter further.”

“But of course, my dear. I wouldn’t think of it. I remember when I was in the military, the scrapes I got into … you know, once when I was in the academy, I lost a bet, and was forced to walk home wearing a DRESS!”

“Scandalous.”

“Quite! So I know the value of good and discreet acquaintances.”

This man has done me a service, I thought. I underestimated him as well. The thought humbled me. “Thank you. This means a great deal.” I paused for a moment, considering all the possibilities. “Would you be available for Queen’s Day dinner? I have a cancellation … if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

Major Blackwood beamed. “I would very much enjoy the pleasure of dining at Spadros Manor. Very much so.”

It took me a few minutes to persuade Major Blackwood to leave before I had gotten inside. He finally did after I told him my husband would be vexed if he learned I rode in a bachelor gentleman’s carriage unescorted. This pleased the Major no end.

When I went around the back, Rocket began to bark. I rushed into the house, keeping him outside as I locked the door. I managed to sneak into my bedroom and get into dry house clothes. Right as I exited the closet, Tony walked in, leaving the bedroom door open a bit.

“Good heavens, I thought you were with Mrs. Hart!”

“I was, and we had luncheon, and we went boating, but then the storm came up, and we were drenched! Fortunately she had clothes I could change into to return home. Pearson must not have heard my knock with the thunder, because I had to go round the back to get in.”

Tony laughed softly and took me into his arms. “You poor dear. What a day!”

Rocket came bounding into the room, barking, the stable-boys and maids chasing behind, and shook water everywhere.

“Get that dog out of here!” Tony said. They dragged Rocket off, howling as he went.

And so it was done, and no one was the wiser. I went downstairs later and told Rocket what a good dog he was. Both Pearson and the doctor looked at me strangely for a while, as if not sure what to think. I never explained to Dr. Salmon why I was with a traumatized boy and his mother wearing the blood-spattered dress of a maid. But he never asked, and to this day has never said a word about it.

Pearson never missed a knock or a bell, no matter what the weather. He must have felt a deep sense of personal failure at missing mine, especially since I had a terrible cold for the next few days. He was especially attentive to any bell for months after.

Poor man — but it would have been suicide to appear at the front door in a maid uniform, much less tell anyone where I was that day.

* * *

We ran laughing down a glorious moonlit alleyway, then leaned against a wall.

Air put his head on my shoulder. I put my arm around him, feeling safe and at peace as we gazed out at the wide plaza before us.

Snow glittered on old Bridges: the soaring curved lines of the ‘scrapers and mansions, the majestic statues, the stately fountains. Beautiful sleek steam automobiles chugged through the streets, while ladies in flowing gowns strolled past.

Air’s face was full of wonder. “‘Tis pretty, here at night.”

Tony and I were wakened by a gunshot.

We rushed towards the sound in the pre-dawn light, to find Tony’s man standing aghast. Duck was dead, peacefully, as if asleep. Crab had put a gun in his mouth.

We stood there stunned until Tony’s man picked up a note, which had fallen to the floor:

I am sorry to disturb your rest, but I can’t bear to see another sunrise. I will do this one last service and spare you the trouble.

“I asked too much of him,” Tony said, his face stricken. “I killed everything he held dear.”

“It’s not your fault.” In truth, I wasn’t sure, just as I wasn’t sure about Herbert and Stephen. Or David.

“Where did he get the gun?” Tony said.

Sawbuck came up behind us. “Must have been when the doctors were with Duck. We put him in Mr. Roy’s old room. Mr. Roy must have had a gun hidden in there; we never thought to search Crab afterward.”

We stood there listening to Crab’s blood drip on the floor.

“May they be dealt better hands next time,” Sawbuck murmured.

Tony leaned against the door frame. “I have lost four men, four more are badly injured, two horses had to be put down, a whole shipment lost … Frank Pagliacci has much to answer for.”

I didn’t know what to tell him. Was the man dead?

I shot him. I heard him scream. I saw him fall.

* * *

We buried our men. I had Zia’s uniform cleaned, pressed, and sent to the address on Blaze Rainbow’s card. A few hours later, I happened to be downstairs when the bell rang. “I’m right here, Pearson, I’ll answer.”

A tear-stained messenger boy of about twelve stood with Zia’s package, his bicycle on the ground. “There’s no such place, mum. I asked, and they laughed at me.”

No such address.

I took the package. “I’m so sorry they laughed. I’m grateful you tried, and that you brought it back.” I put my arm around his shoulders and had Pearson find him a treat, which seemed to make them both happy.

So Morton didn’t live in Hart. Who was he? Why give a false address? Did he even work for the Harts, as he claimed?

Perhaps he really was Blaze Rainbow, an investigator hired to find David and solve the mystery of the false Red Dogs. We both got much more than we bargained for on this case.

But why abandon me and David and before we had gotten away safely?

I suppose I no longer needed his help, and perhaps Zia needed him more. I couldn’t fault a man for going to the aid of his sister. Joe would have done the same for Josie. But the fact that Morton took the carriage and left us irked me. And he didn’t pay what he promised, either.

A few days later, a large package came with my belongings. Included were my cleaned gun and my wedding ring, neither of which I thought I would see again. The package was without a sender, a postmark, or even a note. “Amelia, who brought this?”

“I don’t know, mum. Pearson said it wasn’t the usual messenger boy; this one was much older, with an eye-patch.”

* * *

David constantly rocked, curled into a ball, sucking his thumb, just as I found him. He refused to sleep in his bed, hiding underneath it all night. His thirteenth birthday came and went. He grew taller; a few hairs sprouted on his chin.

Mrs. Bryce brought in another doctor to examine the boy. No injury, no evidence of violation, but his mind …. Whatever happened to him, David Bryce refused to talk, to walk, to do so much as feed himself, as if he became a babe again.

Sometimes I visited, just to let Mrs. Bryce do her shopping. I sat with the boy as he rocked, asking, “What did he do to you?” Just like the time I asked before, and the time before that, he gave no answer.

I vowed to find the answer. Frank Pagliacci might be gone, but I had no doubt that Jack Diamond was involved in this boy’s ruin, if only to offer that villain sanctuary.

I was tired of his threats, tired of his madness, tired of being afraid.

Jack Diamond needed to be stopped.

This would not end until one of us was dead.

~This ends Chapter One of the Red Dog Conspiracy~

See where you can purchase The Jacq of Spades in print and audio formats

See where you can purchase Chapter 2: The Queen of Diamonds