Red Dog Conspiracy: A Noir Future Steampunk Crime Family Saga

I clung to Tony's arm, exhausted from my illness, eager to see Joe and Josie, yet afraid at the same time. I was so rude at our last meeting, yet they didn't dare refuse our invitation. Had I offended my friends past forgiveness?

But when our butler John Pearson opened the parlor door, I knew something was terribly wrong.

The parlor itself looked perfectly normal: white paneling, pale blue sofa, white coffee table.

Josephine Kerr sat, face in her hands, alone. She glanced up as Tony and I entered. Her skin was pink, her curly blond hair plastered around her face, her blue eyes red and full of tears.

Now, looking back, I'm ashamed to say that all I thought of was Joe. Where was her twin? My heart began pounding at the thought that something might have befallen him.

I glanced at Tony. He nodded, his blue eyes somber as he turned to go, but Josie said, "Please, Mr. Spadros, stay. I sorely need your counsel."

Josephine Kerr was a year older than I. As a young girl, she led the High-Low Split, the most notorious (and now only) street gang in the Spadros section of the Pot. The girl who taught me to fight with knives in the streets and alleyways of the worst section of Bridges. The woman groomed to run her grandfather's estate, chosen over her twin brother Joseph.

Josie never asked anyone for counsel. I'd known Josie since I was born, and I'd never seen her cry before.

I took Tony's hand to keep mine from shaking, and drew him to sit across from her. "Josie, what's wrong?"

Her gaze was both horrified and bereft. "Oh, Jacqui," she said, "Joe's been hurt."

I felt an enormous sense of relief. Hurt. I feared from her demeanor that he had died.

Tony ran a hand through black hair. "How? What happened?"

Josie wiped her face with a handkerchief. She took a deep breath, and let it out. Then she spoke, slowly and with hesitation:

"We were in the Hart countryside, a week ago. The day was ... so ... beautiful! Joe and six of his friends rode beside the carriage on horseback, while I and three of my friends rode inside.

"You know how Joe is, Jacqui, always sporting. We passed a field, and he told the carriage to stop. It was time for luncheon so I asked if he wanted to eat there. He did, so the ladies and I began taking out the blankets and baskets with the help of our driver.

"Joe was still a-horse, and challenged the men to race across the field to a thicket. It wasn't far, oh, maybe a hundred yards off. I told him not to, Jacqui, I did. He knew nothing of the field, or of its dangers, but his friends joined in, urging him on, and off they went. I screamed for him to stop, but they raced — full on. I felt terrified for his horse, and I was right: just before the thicket, his horse stepped in a hole and threw him ... at speed."

I gasped, stomach churning, and Tony squeezed my hand.

Josie nodded. "He went into the thicket and flew over. But beyond that was an embankment, with a stone wall at its base, and then a terrible far drop."

I leaned forward. What happened?

"A stand of trees and bushes lay there. A large branch went through his leg, then he hit the wall at the bottom of the embankment so hard it cracked. The top part of the wall had blood all over it."

It seemed incomprehensible. He hit a wall?

Josie shook her head, face in her hands. "He hung ... by his leg ... over a cliff. I still can't believe it. That branch was the only thing which kept him from going into certain death."

Joe might have died? "A week ago?"

When Josie spoke, she sounded afraid and defensive. At the time, I felt ashamed: I imagined she thought I blamed her. "It was terrible, Jacqui. A friend spoke to me and I glanced away right as the horse threw him. Then the men began to cry out for help, screaming for a doctor. I felt terrified Joe might be dead. I told the driver to unhitch the horse and go for a doctor, then my friends and I ran across the field to him. He lay in the branches, unmoving, blood dripping from his wounds. The men shouted and wept, distraught at the thought he might be dead.

"It took us the rest of the day to bring him home. We were far in the countryside. It took two hours for a doctor to arrive. Thank the Floorman the other horses were unhurt, for we had to send for ropes so we could climb down to him. We had to saw the branch with our pocket knives to free him, to bring him safely away from the cliff. After the doctor came, we lowered him to Joe's side so the doctor could remove the branch from his leg. Oh," her voice broke, "I can still recall how Joe screamed as we did so." She wiped tears from her cheeks. "We got a stretcher down to him so we might hoist him up. It took ten men to do so. The horse Joe rode had to be put down, it screamed as much as he did. It was terrible. Its leg ...." She shuddered. "Thank the Dealer Joe's friend had a pistol to release the poor animal from its pain."

"Oh, Josie." I went to her, holding her as she sobbed in my arms. After she calmed herself, I asked, "How can we help?"

But Josie didn't seem to hear me. "I came myself, the next day, once the doctor said he would live. I knew you'd want to see him, but they said you weren't home. Didn't they send my card?"

"They did." I sighed. "I've been ill. I'm sorry. If I would've known it was so serious, I would have come straight-away."

Josie stared at me. "You're ill? I'm so sorry. I should never have come." She began to rise. "I —"

"Of course you should have come," Tony said. "You've done everything well. Sit, please. Mrs. Spadros is well now, and feels strong. We should have luncheon together, as we planned. Let's go to the veranda. The sight of the gardens will be relaxing." He paused. "When you feel able to, Miss Kerr, of course."

She sat staring at her hands. "How did you come to fall ill?"

Tony smiled. "She went boating with Helen Hart. Can you believe it? All these years the Harts have been estranged from her, then invited to luncheon twice now. They were caught in that rainstorm last week and she's been sick with coughing and fever ever since — until today, of course. What terrible luck."

Josie stared at me unmoving, and I felt a spike of panic. I hadn't been with Helen Hart that day. Did she know I lied? If so, what would she do?

But she nodded without expression. "The same day we were in the Hart countryside. The day Joe fell. I saw the storm far off over the city while we waited for help to arrive." She took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

I took her arm as we went out of the parlor, Tony following behind. Our butler met us in the entryway.

"Pearson," Tony said, "we'll take luncheon on the veranda."

"Yes, sir." A middle-aged man with thinning brown hair, John Pearson strode ahead of us. We ambled after him, past the white paneled doors to Tony's library, his study, my study, and the breakfast room.

Josie said nothing as we walked, which was just as well: my mind was in turmoil. Joe was terribly hurt, for a week now, and I hadn't been there for him.

Of course the staff gave me her card. But they wouldn't have known to tell me of the situation even if Josie shared it, which she wouldn't have. Josie was a most private woman; she must trust us very much to let her distress show, especially in front of Tony, who she barely knew.

The sun peeked through the clouds as we passed the breakfast room windows. The twigs in the garden glistened as we turned right, towards the dining hall. The veranda doors were at the left side of the large white hall, halfway down the room. A maid opened the glass-paneled doors for us.

The air was warm for this February afternoon, and smelled of damp earth. My bird, white with blue-gray markings, chirped at us from its large white cage as we emerged. Amelia's son walked far out in the meadow with our bomb-sniffer dog, Rocket.

Josie seemed to notice none of this, going straight to the table. Tony pulled her chair out, then pulled out a chair for me to her left. The wide gray roof hadn't let a drop from that morning's storm reach the table, so the chairs were clean and dry.

Pearson emerged. Two of his sons brought out a side table. Maids followed with serving platters and tablecloths, and began setting the table. The maids set out large white service plates and tea cups, with a small bowl of rosemary sprigs in the center. The scent of rosemary wafted in the air. I rose to pour the tea, then returned to my seat. Josie continued to stare dully at the table.

Pearson's daughter Mary came to the table in her maid uniform, black with a spotless white apron, and curtsied. "Smoked ham, roasted new potatoes, baked beans with fat pork."

Josie nodded. I smiled up at Mary. "Thank you."

Mary curtsied and began placing filled white luncheon plates edged in black atop the larger ones.

Tony smiled at me. It was then I realized how nervous I was.

Josie let out a weary sigh, and sipped her tea.

We began eating. My bird chirped, another answered.

"You mentioned that you needed my counsel," Tony said. "How may I help?"

Josie nodded, not meeting our eyes. "The horse Joe rode was valuable, a beautiful sorrel. It belonged to my grandfather. Mr. Charles Hart gave the grand-sire to him when he first sponsored my grandfather into the Hart lands. My grandfather loved the horse's offspring dearly, as he does Mr. Hart himself." She took a deep breath, let it out. "My grandfather is distraught at the loss, almost as much as with Joe's injuries. But ... we only had the two horses to begin with. We have no way to replace it in a timely manner, and Mr. Hart has done so much for us already ..."

Tony nodded. "Would it help if I spoke with Mr. Hart —?"

A spike of fear. What if Tony learned I had never met with Helen Hart? That I lied to him all those times?

"Or would one of our horses help? Until you can get another."

Josie brightened. "Oh, Mr. Spadros, a horse would help so much. Just until we can replace it. We're fortunate that his sire still lives. He is our carriage-horse, old, yes, but reliable. We can get a foal from him in the spring, I'm sure."

Tony smiled. "You're welcome to choose any from the stables you like. Keep it as long as you need."

Josie's face filled with gratitude. "Thank you so much, sir. You have no idea how much it will help."

"It's no trouble at all," Tony said. "Lady Luck has blessed the Spadros Family. I'm happy to help you."

Josie's eyes lowered. She smiled, blushing. "May I speak on another matter?"

"Why, of course," I said.

"Joe would be most obliged if you visited him," Josie said to Tony. "He's been bound to his bed a week now, and is starved for company." Her shoulders drooped as she glanced aside. "Many of his friends no longer visit."

I turned to Tony. "Might we go tomorrow after luncheon?"

Tony shook his head. "I have a meeting tomorrow. But you can go, if you feel well enough."

Pearson told me Tony had a meeting tomorrow, which was why I suggested it. "I'll take the unmarked carriage." This plain brown carriage resembled a taxi, if you ignored the black horses and silver tackle of the Spadros Family. By using this carriage, we might visit other quadrants without attracting undue notice.

Tony nodded. "Good idea. It'll be safer that way."

Always his concern was for my safety. Tony meant well, but his idea of "safety" often felt like life in a cage.

Josie stirred at Tony's remark. "Have you had trouble?"

Tony put his fork down and leaned back in his chair. The room Crab and Duck died in was still being cleaned from the ordeal. "You might say that."

My best friend Air, murdered in front of me the night I was sold to the Spadros Family ten years ago, had two brothers. Frank Pagliacci kidnapped twelve year old David Bryce (Air's youngest brother) a month ago, framing the Red Dogs street gang for it. David's seventeen-year-old brother Herbert and a fifteen-year-old Red Dogs member named Stephen Rivers tried to find David. The police found them strangled; I felt certain Pagliacci killed them.

Two of Tony's men were killed and two others kidnapped by Pagliacci's men. Then they attacked Tony in his own warehouse. Frank Pagliacci released the kidnapped men after blackmailing them into spying on us. Pagliacci claimed he did all this to capture me then lure the rest of the Spadros Family to their deaths. But I believed this was a ruse to cover up his real intent.

The two spies were dead: Duck, of infection after Tony shot him; the other, Crab, died at his own hand. David Bryce, now home safe, had so far refused to speak, his mind having reverted, it seemed, to that of a babe. I shot Frank Pagliacci, but I was no closer to bringing Frank's mad accomplice Jack Diamond to justice than I was a week ago.

I gazed at Tony. They tried to destroy us. Yet we survived it. Feeling a surge of fondness, I kissed Tony's hand and turned to Josie. "We have had some trials, yes, quite serious ones, but they've brought us closer together." And they had. For the first time, I felt as if Tony valued me as more than just a woman, but something closer to an equal.

Tony let out a breath, color rising in his cheeks, his gaze part incredulity and part hope.

Sadness washed over me. Somehow, he knew that I held my heart from him these three years of our marriage.

Josie gaped at us.

And I felt ashamed.

Her brother Joe and I promised ourselves to each other before I was kidnapped and brought here. Everything in his actions indicated he had lost interest in me. But what might her dreams have been?

I dropped Tony's hand. "I forget my manners sometimes."

Josie smiled. "I'm glad to see you happy."

I let out a breath. Yes. In spite of my worry for Joe, my grief over David's ruin, my fears for the future ... yes, I was happy.