Mysteries of the Past: Black Sheep, a criminal case fanfic

MYSTERIES OF THE PAST: BLACK SHEEP

CASE THREE: IN THE LINE OF FIRE

Detective Mark Trey of the Concordian Flying Squad kept cool when the heat was on.

Not this time.

Here he was, a rookie on his third case, and he'd already been called to Chief Wright's carpet. What rookie mistake had he made? Perhaps more than one, and the thought made him shudder. Straightening his tie so it felt less like a noose, he remembered the first two murders he'd solved: a poisoned immigration officer and a fresh-faced Irish lass who'd been stabbed thirteen times. Thanks to him and his fellow officers, Madeline O'Malley and Isaac Bontemps, two killers were now behind bars. A wave of dread washed over Trey. Could he have fingered one or more wrong perpetrators? He trudged toward Wright's office aboard the airship as if he were a dead man walking. Sweat formed on his brow, but he let it bead.

Three quick raps on the door – Trey's signal. "Enter," called his superior from the other side.

"You wished to see me, sir?"

"Indeed." Chief Arthur Wright, behind his desk, formed his fingers into a pyramid. "Sit."

The chair on the opposite side of the escritoire was meant for two kinds of people, officers and suspects. Which one am I right now? wondered Trey as he pulled the chair back with a grinding scrape. Wincing, he sat down.

Silence for a few beats, then: "How goes the Otis Kidd case? Any further developments?"

"One," replied the green detective. "I'm waiting on Viola's analysis of a strange white residue we found on the murder weapon – an Ivory Johnson revolver." Thinking this would please his boss or at least buy him more time, Trey added, "Shame such a hero died."

Wright's brows furrowed. "According to one of our female suspects, Mr. Kidd was a heel."

Trey knew which suspect, and it made him sneer. "Madam Xiang. The owner of a - "

"Bordello. I won't have filthy language used in my airspace, and that includes this office."

"Point taken."

Pause. "There's another reason I won't have you speak of Madame Xiang's establishment as many of its patrons do. I'm loath to tell you this, but I feel I must. My sister works there."

Trey nearly fell out of the seat he deemed the Executioner's Chair. "Your sister?"

"Yes. Libby. We don't speak of her unless necessary. She's the black sheep in our family. Unlike the rest of us, she prefers the wrong side of the law to the right. Her favorite pastimes are gambling, writing salacious novellas and – engaging in amorous congress."

"For money," Trey said darkly, and was surprised to see Arthur Wright flinch.

"Therefore, I've brought her in," he said after taking a breath, "as a person of interest."

"Not a suspect?"

"Not yet. She may be one of Xiang's girls, but her patroness is the one in the hot seat right now." Wright leaned forward. "Nevertheless, I want you to interrogate Libby. I'm recusing myself for three reasons. First and foremost, I'm her brother, and questioning her myself would create numerous conflicts of interest. Secondly, I'm afraid –" His fist clenched, and Trey understood why. "Put the fear of God into her, Mark, because I fear I'll go too far. Thirdly…" He heaved a sigh, but didn't allow his head to sink into his hands. "I don't want to be the one to arrest her if she has anything to do with Otis Kidd being shot in the back."

"Understood, sir."

"I'm presently holding her in the interrogation room aboard the zeppelin. Good luck."

Trey stood and saluted, not sure if he'd been pardoned or sentenced to further punishment. If he had his way, those such as Libby would be publicly flogged, police chief's sister or no. How could she disgrace her kin in such a sordid way? Gambling was one thing. He himself partook in the occasional game of blackjack or baccarat. Nevertheless, if working for Madam Xiang was the sole manner in which Miss Wright could pay her debts, he'd jail every dealer.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, mused Trey, but a woman fallen is even worse.

Once he opened the enclosure's door, the one who awaited him made his breath catch.

Hair so black it was almost blue, skin as white as snow, and lips not quite as red as blood. A searing scarlet dress, as befit her ilk, handcrafted of satin and lace. Slim hips and an ample bosom, enhanced by the confining laces of her bodice. A skirt that rustled as she stood to greet him, a gentle waft of perfume from the Orient, and as a finishing touch, a parasol.

"Good day, Officer." A slight curtsy.

"Detective." The rookie kept his gaze and voice level as a gun barrel. "Do sit down."

The young lady obeyed, although "lady" was scarcely the term to describe her.

Trey pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket. "Your full name?"

"Elizabeth Anne Wright, although most call me Libby."

"Age?"

"Twenty-two, sir."

"Current place of residence?"

"1000 Providence Way, Concordia." Libby paused. "It's my home address."

"Are you implying," asked Trey, "that at present, you don't live at home?" He emphasized the third-to-last word, meaning to make her state her occupation out loud.

"That's correct. I work for Madam Xiang, who has a boardinghouse here in New Haven." After meeting Trey's glare and failing to endure it, she mumbled, "Had, I mean. It burnt."

"How unfortunate." The Detective leaned in. "In the blaze Otis Kidd helped to contain?"

"Aye! A right savior, he was. Five babies he rescued from the flames."

"A Medal of Honor to prove it as well, but I don't wish to discuss his record at the moment. Your patroness," Trey continued, falling back on Chief Wright's term instead of one of his own, "says that Mr. Kidd was a regular at her boardinghouse. A renter?"

"You could say that."

"Was Otis Kidd one of your clients?"

A beat that stretched into ten eternal seconds, then a nod.

"How long, and upon how many occasions, did you know him?"

"Three months." Libby's reply was soft and tinged with shame. Trey noted only one answer. In his mind's eye, he saw his hand reach out to slap her, but he remembered himself.

"How was Kidd? I don't mean in the carnal sense. What was your measure of his character?"

"Hypocrisy," answered Libby, "is the homage that vice pays to virtue. As many lives as he saved from the inferno, he sent as many straight to it. Gambling and gallivanting were his two favorite hobbies. 'Twas hard to say which he enjoyed more. In fact…"

"Go on."

"I rolled dice with him far more than I – Three losses, three times. That's all. I swear it."

"And why should I believe a harlot?"

Libby flushed. "I may be so, but I'm no liar. I'm a Wright, and my word is my bond."

"We'll see about that. So Kidd arranged for you to pay your debts to him in flesh, not coin? How gallant. Did you know that he was engaged to be married to Miss Adelia Baldwin?"

"Oh! Adelia, his one and only, la belle mademoiselle. What a laugh. He'd spent so much on two first-class tickets for the Gigantic, the perfect ocean liner for their honeymoon, but all she could talk about was Paris. Never mind her fiancé, she yearned to be living the high life in the City of Lights. Meanwhile, he confessed to me – pillow talk, you know – that he suspected Adelia didn't love him at all. I pitied the poor fellow, at least for a while."

"What changed your mind?"

"His persistent habit of cheating, not just on his bride-to-be, but at the craps table. He was dirtier than Sinner's End. I daresay I'm not all that sorry Otis Kidd met his."

Trey wasn't sure what the stillness between them afterward signified. Was he allowing her words to sink in, or was he warning Libby that such an admission could implicate her?

"Might I have a glass of water?" Libby asked. "I need to take one of my toothache drops."

"Cocaine?"

"How'd you know? They're wonderful, especially for the pep they give you." After she winced and sucked in a breath, Miss Wright added, "I sold Madam my molars first."

Trey blinked. "Oh?"

"For dentures. I still have two back ones. I chew on the bottom, not the top. You'd be surprised how much rich people pay for real false teeth." She laughed at her little joke, and the Detective took a moment to call for Libby's drink. The longer he could keep her talking, the better. "Anyway, when I first came to Xiang's, I came to gamble. I never thought..."

"That your luck would run out?"

Libby's dark eyes flashed with both pique and dismay. "Do you take me for a fool? I know no one gets sevens all the time, but I didn't expect my good fortune to vanish so quickly. Nor did I imagine I'd play for high stakes. The thing is, when you take on big rollers, you seek to become one. No longer would I bet against smelly drunkards fresh from the tavern. That's where I got my first taste of where winning could lead, and I wanted ever more."

Sounds familiar, but I won't admit it. I restrain myself in time, unlike you. "And Xiang?"

"She fronted me. She still does. I can no more stop gambling than I can stop breathing."

You degenerate. "I see. May I ask you a personal question?" asked Trey, knowing it was his prerogative. After Libby lowered and raised her eyes, he inquired, "How much do you owe?"

"Fifty thousand Concordian dollars."

The Detective whistled. "Those stakes aren't high, Miss Wright. They're astronomical."

"But what to do? Things without remedy should be without regard. What's done is done."

"Things without all remedy," Trey quoted, correcting her. "Yours? Quit digging your own grave." After a beat, he said, "What of honest work? Can't you be a maid at the house?"

Libby shook her head. "I'd scrub dishes and floors until I died, yet owe more than ever."

With a snort, Trey said, "I can't believe I'm suggesting this. What about a rich husband?"

"Who'd marry one such as I? I'm sorry, but I'm the bedding kind, not the wedding kind."

A sudden thought struck him. "Wedding. Where on earth did Kidd get the money for two first-class tickets aboard the Gigantic? He was a fireman, not a gentleman – in any way."

"Billy Thompson." Libby gulped down her toothache drop with the water. "His colleague."

Really? "How do you know that? More pillow talk, I presume?"

"Yes, but on one occasion I talked him through a nightmare. Otis had fallen asleep, unable to come to terms with me, so to speak. I lay down and cuddled up. He'd broken out in a cold sweat, and at first I thought he had a fever. Then he moaned: 'Billy, Adelia…'" I woke him. Grateful to be out of the 'morbs', he asked if he could spend the night without paying. I said yes, bless my heart and damn my soul. He spilled the beans about his source of funds for both craps and courtship. 'I owe it all to Billy,' he said, 'and I've given nothing back!'

"What did he mean by that?"

"Billy had been forking over money to pay off Otis' gambling debts, or so Otis himself told me, but then guess who turned around and started talking about Gay Paris again? What Mr. Thompson gave him out of kindness, not seeking recompense, Kidd spent on the lovely Miss Baldwin. Talk about insatiable. If she were one of us, there would be no stopping her."

Again, Trey felt the impulse to slap Libby. "How dare you say such about a respectable girl!"

"Respectable? Only because she's the Police Commissioner's daughter. In all other respects, Miss Baldwin is far from it. Unlike most young ladies, Adelia likes to smoke, drink, and take her father's rare and precious automobile out for joyrides when he isn't paying attention."

"More hearsay from a tainted Don Quixote and his Dulcinea. Why spew such codswallop?"

Libby shrugged. "Ask her, since you can't ask Otis, and since you don't believe me."

"I shall do just that." The Detective rose and brushed his coat as if dust had fallen on it. "Don't go far, I sense this will be the first of several interrogations. As it stands, you're not a suspect in Otis' murder, but that doesn't rule you out as a person of interest. One more thing…" Trey trailed off, unsure of how much he should divulge of a former case. "If I had my way, I'd take you to meet Nellie Mortimer, an erstwhile nurse. She's in the Concordia Penitentiary serving a thirteen-year sentence for murder. Her victim? One Frank Vogel."

"Vogel…" Chief Wright's sister lay gloved fingers to her lips. "An immigration official?"

"Correct. Another scoundrel, as Mr. Kidd has proven himself to be. Vogel, however, had two more strikes against him. Unlike your clients, he preferred the unpaid variety of immorality, and he also had syphilis. Miss Mortimer became infected, as you very well might." Trey leaned on the interrogator's chair he had occupied. "Heed my warning, Miss Wright."

"Heed mine." A final pregnant pause. "I'm born under the sign of the Balance. Keep yours."

With that, the pert prostitute plucked her parasol from the floor and opened it with a pfoof.

Trey rushed ahead of her and unlocked the door, hoping to stare her down one more time, but Libby's sun umbrella blocked any view he had of her face. She rustled down the short corridor of the Flying Squad's airship, and the determined Detective rushed to overtake her. He wasn't going to let her gain advantage over him or his superior officer. "Halt!"

She ignored him. She would have sped past her own sibling if he hadn't blocked her way.

Libby tipped her parasol back and addressed the Chief. "Can I go now, dear brother?"

"It's 'may I,'" snapped Chief Wright, "and after all you've done, you have no right to call me dear. You must earn that privilege, but you haven't even started. I'm not releasing you."

"Then put the handcuffs on." She gave her parasol to a startled Trey and offered her wrists.

"You're not under arrest." Arthur gestured to the Executioner's Chair. "Take a seat, sister."

It took Libby longer than Trey himself would have allowed for her to obey such an order.

"As an officer of the law, I could have you taken into custody due to your occupation, but that wouldn't do much good. Madam Xiang would bail you out, and she has considerable influence in New Haven. In addition…" He rebuilt his finger pyramid. "I'll get to that later. For now, tell me one thing. Did you or did you not have relations with our victim?"

"Naturally." Whereas she had sounded ashamed to tell Trey, her tone was now defiant.

Chief Wright clenched his teeth. "Get out…of my sight." He signaled a sentry to escort her.

"Wait." Trey held up a hand. "Don't give her the bum's rush just yet, sir. Miss Wright? Do inform your brother under what conditions you were obliged to serve Mr. Kidd."

A wry smile from Libby. "He accepted me as tender in lieu of coin when I lost to him."

"You aren't helping your cause, Elizabeth." Arthur's molars ground. "Not one iota."

"It's Elizabeth now? Not Libby, or, God forbid, Lily?" Pause. "I was once your white bloom."

"That has since blackened with the filth of sin! Don't play games with me. Your charms won't work. You may have pulled the wool over Father's eyes, but he's gone now, as is Grandfather, whose priceless chronometer you sold to cover your latest 'expenditure.' I've tolerated your excesses for far too long, but I've come to realize something the hard way."

"What's that?"

"Someone who enables a criminal's behavior is just as guilty as the wrongdoer herself."

"Is that why you won't talk to me, save on this ship? Why you barred me from our house?"

"As I ought to have done as soon as I learned of your outstanding debts. Blood may be thicker than water, but your blood is just as thin. As usual, you play the innocent victim, but who has been wronged? Who must suffer countless slings and arrows to his reputation?"

"What? No one knows. I haven't spoken of you to Madam Xiang, either. She could ruin you."

"Are you threatening me? When it comes to who has ruined whom, you've done so already. Your connection to Madam Xiang's residence hasn't been made public, but in the blink of an eye, I could contact the Concordian Gazette. The sole reason I haven't is that if you fall, I plummet with you. Call me selfish all you want, but even beasts save their own hides."

"You're no beast, Arthur." Libby's eyes grew wet. "You're a crusader on a white horse."

"Damned right!" Chief Wright bolted up from his chair and steadied himself on his desk, his face as red as her dress. "I find corruption everywhere, ferret it out, and I'll exposed you."

"Sir," interjected Trey at a volume that shocked him, "be calm. She has more information."

"Does she?" His boss sat back down with a decisive thump. "Talk, and be quick about it!"

Libby, her bodice heaving, could only stare in stupefied fright. Trey lowered his voice: "Otis. Remember his nightmare? Reveal what Kidd said on the night he spent with you for free."

After recovering her composure and taking a sip from her brother's glass of water, Libby did so. "If I were you, I would interrogate Billy Thompson and Adelia Baldwin. Otis' comrade on the fire brigade has more to tell, and as for Adelia? She's not as genteel as she seems."

"I sincerely doubt that," her brother warned, "but if you're telling the truth for a change…"

"Try me." Neither a smile nor a sneer curved Libby's lips. "Allow me to take the first step."

"Toward redemption? Only if you stop gambling and selling yourself in a single stroke." Silence. "No? I suppose I'll settle for the crumbs you've left me, but if they're rotten - "

"Chief." Trey frowned. "Let her go. Offer your own flesh and blood the benefit of the doubt."

Libby stretched out her hand as an olive branch, but Arthur did not clasp it.

"You're innocent until proven guilty," he told his sister. "As of now, you're on probation."

"Then I...can go home?"

"Not yet. You haven't proven yourself worthy of having an honest roof over your head."

"Are you always so sanctimonious?" The words flew out of Trey's mouth before his brain had a chance to restrain them. "I beg your pardon, sir." He swallowed a hard lump in his throat.

"Sanctimony isn't the worst iniquity one can commit. Pardon granted. Elizabeth?" Once more, he motioned for a guard to escort her once the airship had landed. "Until next time."

Until that next time, Detective Trey spent a great deal of time questioning not only Adelia and Billy, but three other suspects in Otis Kidd's death – including Madam Xiang, who had left Otis the clock which had formerly rested on her parlor's mantel, to warn Kidd that his days were numbered. Nevertheless, the Chinese mentor of many a "fine young miss" in New Haven had not shot her former customer. The culprit? Mr. Thompson, whose reliance on cocaine toothache drops, automobile ownership, waxed mustache, penchant for rolling dice, and missing gold button all added up to a single verdict: guilty. Sentence? Life in prison.

"I shot him in the back," Kidd confessed on the stand, "because he stabbed me in mine. I got Otis off the streets and turned him from a hustler into a hero. Some hero. As soon as he got engaged to Miss Baldwin, he acted all high-and-mighty, saying he didn't want to have his fiancée's father see him about town with a friend as common as myself. Common? Who did he think he was? A shining medal on his lapel, but a wayward hose within his drawers! I plead 'just cause,' Your Honor. Kidd took both his honor and mine and trampled on it!"

"You speak of honor as if you understand," replied Judge Satoshi Takakura, "but you do not. May you spend the rest of your days considering this and atoning for your ally's death."

As Billy was led away, he wept, but Trey couldn't tell for whose sake. A killer was a killer.

"Cracking job on the case, Mark," Chief Wright said as the two exited Takakura's courtroom. "Another murderer behind bars, and what's more, my sister's leads were fully on the level."

On the level. "Say," said Trey, lighting a fresh cigarette. "That gives me a brilliant idea."

When a certain lady of the evening was called to the airship of the Concordian Flying Squad on the next day, her parasol – and hackles – were immediately raised. "Why am I here? You got your man. How have I erred this time, besides my usual misdeeds?"

Arthur Wright's face bore an expression Libby hadn't seen in at least two years: a smile.

"You're not here to be censured, but commended. Your information about Billy Thompson and Adelia Baldwin proved invaluable in helping Detective Trey and me to solve this case. Because of it, he and I have been discussing a possible job opportunity for you – an honest one, to be conducted within the confines of your current scandalous place of employment."

His sister raised a dark eyebrow enhanced by antimony sulfide. "How's that?"

"Between the lawman and the lawbreaker, there's a middleman the French call la balance."

Libby blanched. "An informant."

"Indeed. For every solid lead you give us in significant cases, I'll be willing to pay off a portion of your debt – provided that you refrain from gambling from this day forward. You will still reside at Madam Xiang's, and do your work, to further drain the quagmire in which you've gotten yourself stuck. In the meantime, you'll keep your eyes and ears open. Those who frequent such 'boardinghouses' as hers are often the very men and women we end up seeking in our investigations. Don't double-cross me, or you'll find yourself in a prison cell."

"I won't do it. Rats wind up dead in traps. Pigeons have their necks wrung. I want to live."

"I know," said Detective Trey. "That's why I, and the Concordian Flying Squad, shall do all we can to ensure your safety. Help us and we'll help you. We need what we can get. Deal?"

"For now." She winked at him. "You're on probation, and by the way…call me Libra."

NEXT CASE: A MURDER CAROL

(AUTHOR'S QUESTION: Should I do the Additional Investigation segments or not?)

(AUTHOR'S ADMISSION: This is the roughest of rough drafts, I know. Anything you want me to add to the story?)

(AUTHOR'S CITATION: "Hypocrisy is the homage vice pays to virtue" is a quote from columnist Sydney J. Harris.)