Red Dog Conspiracy: A Noir Future Steampunk Crime Family Saga

Josie and I hurried down the stairs; my carriage and coachmen stood before us. The wind blew stronger, tiny sprinkles of rain falling here and there. But I barely noticed them.

Joe loved me.

No other carriages were on the street, and Josie let out a sigh of relief. "Grampa won't be angry at you being out here. But if he saw you were in the house, in Joe's bedroom —"

I nodded, picturing Tony's reaction. "I understand."

She lowered her voice. "Jacqui, there's something I must discuss with you."

"What is it?"

"Helen Hart was not out boating last week."

I stared at Josie, dismayed. That was my cover story the day Blaze Rainbow and I went to the Diamond Party Time factory to rescue David Bryce from his kidnappers.

"Helen ... Mrs. Hart ... is a dear friend. She's been ill for many weeks. She was with child, but the pregnancy went poorly. Very poorly. That day you were out, the day Joe and I were in the Hart countryside and he was hurt so badly, she lay bleeding. It was sudden and unexpected. She herself almost died, and the baby was born much too early, dead. Not many know of this; she has lost several babes in the past, and they didn't want the newspapers to get word. Her difficulty is why she wasn't at the Grand Ball with her husband Etienne, our Inventor."

I nodded. I had wondered about that.

"But Jacqui ... where were you? Why did you tell your husband you were with Helen Hart, of all people? I felt appalled when he said so. I didn't know what to say there at the luncheon. I felt you caused me to lie for you in front of all those people — your husband, the maids, your butler — to cover up whatever it was you were doing that day. Why would you lie about where you were? What were you doing?"

I had never seen her so upset in my life.

"Were you out with a man? Is there someone you love other than Joe?" She put her hand to her forehead. "I can't conceive you to be so false. It can't be true. It would break Joe's heart."

Of course I hadn't been with some other man; I had been saving a little boy's life. Could I trust her with that information, though? What had she gone through these six years? How had it changed her?

A carriage came down the street from far off. "You must go," Josie said. Honor stood beside my carriage door, waiting.

I stopped a stone's throw from my carriage, turned to her, and whispered, "Please don't speak of this to anyone. I beg you. There is an explanation, but I can't give it now, there's no time. Please. I ... I love Joe. I would die before harming him. Don't wound him further with these speculations. Please believe in me; await my story before making accusations."

"I will. But this 'explanation' had best be a good one." Her tone made her message clear: I will not have my brother hurt by you.

I felt stung, yet grateful of her willingness to hold judgment, at least for a while. "Thank you."

Honor stood by the opened door several feet off, a question in his eyes, but saying nothing. I took his hand and got into the carriage, and waved to Josie, who went into the house without waving back.

Honor glanced at me. "Is all well?"

I nodded. "Her brother is badly hurt and she's distressed. She'll be well; she has family and friends beside her."

Honor nodded. "Let us be off then. Spadros Manor?"

"Yes, thank you."

It was a long ride back to Spadros Manor, and I spent most of it in turmoil.

Why would Morton ... Master Blaze Rainbow ... why would he say Helen Hart invited me to luncheon? Why did I listen? Why did I go along with his plan?

I knew he was lying. I knew he was untrustworthy after he grabbed me in that alley. I would never have considered the idea of boating with Helen Hart if Blaze Rainbow had not brought it up. And I went along with it.

Now I was in a serious predicament.

Who thought I was with Helen Hart those two times? Would any of them be able to hear otherwise? Who besides Josie might learn of Helen Hart's illness and my 'luncheons' both?

I thought back. Pearson, the maids, Honor, the driver that day, Jonathan, Tony ...

The biggest problem was Tony. If he — or worse yet, his father Roy — happened to speak with one of the Harts ... for example, about the horse ...

Betraying the Family held the death penalty. My father-in-law Roy preferred torture to a clean bullet to the head. Probably one of the reasons Crab shot himself after Duck died, rather than wait to see which Tony intended for him.

I didn't want to die. Not when I finally had a chance at life.

Stop, I thought. I had to remain calm. As far as I knew, no one but Josie suspected me. Somehow I would reason this out. But I would never be able to do so while in a state of agitation.

Roy would never speak with Charles Hart; he hated Mr. Hart as thoroughly as a man could hate anyone. I couldn't imagine how Roy might learn of my visits with Helen Hart. He hadn't been to the house since he and Tony argued several weeks ago.

I sat watching the river as we crossed into Spadros quadrant, and I realized that all this thought and agitation was merely a way to distract myself from the real question: what was I going to do about Joe?

***

After dinner, Tony and I sat in his study in front of the fire as he held my hand. He said nothing about my somber mood, but I had learned to read him. Though he was a master at keeping his emotions from most people, he seemed to relax, even be vulnerable in my presence.

It made me feel sad.

When he finally spoke, I knew a moment before what he would say, and the sincerity with which he would say it. "How is Master Kerr?"

I shook my head. "Sorely hurt, but able to speak. I'm astonished he spoke with such clarity. He had a terrible large bandage on his head."

The realization hit me as a shock: would Joe remember our conversation? Could his words have come from being impaired in some way?

Did he really still love me?

What a fool I was not to see the import of the bandage before I sat with him. "He claimed the doctors would release him from bed in time for the dinner, but I'd be surprised if they attend."

Tony shook his head. "It's a pity; I hoped to spend the evening with them and have them meet others in our society. They need assistance in that regard: most doors are closed to them simply because of their name." He almost seemed to be speaking to himself, rather than to me. "It seems unfair." He paused for several seconds. "I understand being judged because of your ancestors — because of your father."

I patted Tony's hand. "Once Joe's well, we can have them over as often as you like."

He smiled and reached into his pocket. "I have something for you." He produced a small box. Inside was a silver chain with a single moonstone, which he placed around my neck. "One of the health gems," he said. "So you'll get well soon."

I gasped, overwhelmed with his thoughtfulness, and threw my arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "Thank you so much."

Pearson's heavy tread approached the door, and he knocked. I extricated myself quickly and smoothed my hair.

"Come in," Tony said.

"A letter for you, sir, from your father. The messenger said it was most urgent." Pearson put the letter into Tony's hand.

What could Roy Spadros possibly wish to write us about at this hour? Most urgent probably meant the old monster scared the boy half to death. "Make sure you give the boy something for his trouble and tell him all is well."

Pearson nodded. "Yes, mum." He closed the door behind him.

Tony snorted, then handed the letter to me:

Anthony —

Word has reached me of your mishap, and I am appalled at your reckless actions and the loss of your men. Your mishandling of this situation has cost lives and allowed this villain to make a mockery of the Spadros Family. You must allow me to take over this interrogation to learn the truth of the matter.

I also must speak with your wife at once. I await your invitation.

I shook my head, astonished. Whatever Tony told Roy must have been just the thing to say. I had never seen Roy beg before.

I handed the letter back to him. "What will you do?"

He crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it in the fire. "I don't need him to run an investigation of what has gone on in my home or my warehouses. And I certainly won't allow him to come here and mistreat you again."

So he did know what happened. "Who told you?"

"I suspected you hid something the day you claimed to be stung. So I searched for evidence of your story and could find none. No nests, and the staff reported that my father did not leave straight-away as you said, but questioned you for several minutes before he left. The kitchen staff told me you went to Amelia's rooms with your dress torn and your face injured.

"I got the truth from the doctor after much trouble. When I confronted my father, his reaction corroborated it even as he cast vile accusations and excuses as to why he would strike my wife." Tony touched the side of my face. "Even your bruise held the marks of my father's hand. I realized you were terrified of him and feared harm coming to me if you told the truth." He leaned over, kissing my forehead. "That you would take such a terrible blow then hide it to protect my life — it made me see how much you loved me." He laid his hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry I sent you away the night you came to me. I was in such turmoil over the things my father said —" He paused for a long moment, as if he meant to speak, then shook his head, dropping his hand to the table between us. "No. There was no excuse for my behavior."

I took his hand, my eyes stinging, my heart heavy. "I wish I could be the wife you deserve."

I meant it. Tony deserved so much better.

Tony sat up straighter and leaned towards me. "Never say that! You are the wife I deserve. You're the most precious thing in my life." He took my chin and turned my face towards him. "Do you not believe in my love for you?"

"I do." That was the problem.

I turned away, close to tears. I had to think of something to tell him, or I feared I might confess everything. "Yet ... I always feel asked to be someone I'm not. A grand lady, a elegant Family woman ... someone respectable. The minute they think I can't hear, the whispers begin. No one's fooled by this pretense." I glanced at Tony. "I'm a Pot rag, and that's all I'll ever be."

He gaped at me. "Who whispers about you?"

I snorted, feeling bitter. "Everyone. Everywhere. In the shops, in the street, even at the Grand Ball. Oh, yes, they curtsy and they smile, but when they think you can't hear ..."

Tony took my hand in his. "Oh, my love, you mustn't listen, or it'll destroy you. Do you think no one whispers about me? I'm the son of the man most hated and feared, certainly in Bridges, perhaps in this entire country. People fear me. They fear what I may be, what I may become. They whisper that I have a pleasant demeanor to hide some secret horror, that I keep a torture room as my father does —"

I gasped at the thought of Tony torturing anyone.

"— that I engage in acts even worse, whatever their twisted minds concoct. But I'm not my father. I refuse to become him. And I refuse to listen to them." He glanced around as if searching for something to sway me. "You must refuse to listen too."

***

The next morning, a letter came:

Master Joseph Kerr and Miss Josephine Kerr present their compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Spadros but regretfully must decline their kind invitation to dinner on the 14th of February due to serious injury.

As I suspected. I was surprised that Joe thought such a severe break — to the thigh, of all places — might heal enough in two weeks' time to leave that contraption of his.

The Golden Bridges — a disreputable tabloid, but often the only source of real news — ran a short but alarming article:

TENSION BETWEEN FAMILIES?

Our Inside Reporter relates a scene between Regina Clubb and Judith Hart at the Clubb Women's Center:

IR: The two went into a curtained room, presumably to have luncheon. Much discussion took place, loud enough to be heard at nearby tables, although the content is not known.

Judith Hart emerged visibly upset, and left at once. According to the maids who this reporter spoke with later on, she left her meal untouched.

GB: What is the meaning of this spectacle?

IR: It's too early to say, but rumor has it that the Clubb Family plans formal protest against the Harts.

GB: Whatever for?

IR: Trespass, spying, and property damage caused by this Red Dog street gang, which some say is inspired by the Hart Family.

GB: A proxy Family battle? That seems too subtle for Charles Hart.

IR: Yes, and foolhardy for him to use his Family colors on such attacks.

We plan further investigations into the relations between Hart and Clubb.

Bold reporting. I wondered how long it would be before threats forced the Golden Bridges to move their presses in the dead of night, as they had done so many times before.

But then I thought of another matter. Morton — Master Blaze Rainbow — claimed to work for the Harts. After pretending to be both a Diamond Pot rag and a Red Dogs trey leader.

Was the true Red Dog Gang's original plan to use vandalism to cause problems between the Families? Who might benefit from such tactics? I pondered this for a while without success.

Morton said his employer — whoever that was — wished him to learn who framed the Red Dogs for murder and kidnapping. A major problem for them, because the frame-up seemed to be succeeding, although no one had come out and said it as yet.

When I tried to contact Morton using the Hart quadrant address on his business card, I learned there was no such address. Where did Morton really live? Who did he actually work for? What was his motivation for giving me that story about Helen Hart? Whose side was he on?