Chapter Seven: Balled Up
Benjamin Tennyson's day was filled with a stack of paperwork interspersed with calls from disgruntled New Yorkers. It was just another day for Ben and as the afternoon rolled in he was just about ready to head home. That is until Lieutenant Phil called him into his office again.
The rookie guessed the senior officer just wanted to ask how his evening went and truth be told, Ben had no idea what to tell Phil. How does one tell a police lieutenant that the cousin he promised to keep out of trouble has somehow managed to get herself in the very thick of things? Maybe he could lie, pretend none of it ever happened? No, he couldn't do that, and it wasn't for a lack of fibbing skills.
Ben just didn't want to risk getting his badge taken away should Phil manage to wring the truth out of him. Maxwell Tennyson wasn't the only cop on the force known for breaking people in the interrogation room. The young man assumed his best bet would be to simply omit certain facts about the previous evening and avoid giving out specific details.
After a knock and hearing permission to enter, Ben takes a deep breath before turning the knob and entering Phil's office. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Indeed I do, Ben, come on in." Phil motioned for the brunette to close the door behind him before the older man grabbed another cigar from his shirt pocket. Ben did as he was instructed and sat down, noting the rather distracted look on the older man's face. "How was last night?"
Ben gulped, hopefully not audibly, as he forced a bright grin, "We had a real swell time. Really gave folks a run for their money."
"Good to hear, good to hear," Phil murmured as he shuffled through a sheaf of papers on his desk. An awkward silence fell upon the room, but it seemed only Ben noticed it. Phil was too busy contemplating something as he studied a dossier while glancing at the brunette every now and again.
"Is there anything else, sir?" Ben asked.
Phil looked unsure but eventually he set the dossier on the table right where Ben could reach it. "Well, actually there is, Ben. I have a favor to ask of you and this is just between you and me, kid. Real hush-hush stuff, I don't want anyone but you to know about it. You got me?"
The brunette felt his eyes widen eagerly as he nodded while fighting the excited grin trying to crack across his face. He was going to be added to an important case! And a big one, judging by the grim expression on Phil's face.
"Take a gander at what's inside." Phil instructed, pushing lightly at the folder.
Ben reached out to set the dossier onto his lap. Inside were a series of notes and several photographs of women. Dead women. The notes attached were from the coroner, detailing each method of death. The bloated corpse was obviously from a drowning, the woman with ligature marks around her neck had been strangled, and perhaps the most brutal of all was the last image. The young girl's hands and feet were nothing more than stubs and the flesh on her face had been skinned.
"Not a pretty sight, is it?" Phil took a deep puff of his cigar, "We've recently added another one to the list. Someone bums said they found her near the outskirts of town, poor thing bled out from all the bullets she took." He tossed another picture and an ordinary-looking envelope onto the table.
Ben felt a chilling realization when he saw the girl. Her face was paler than he remembered but she had the same nose, same cheekbones. He knew her as a Flapper girl from Charmcaster's, the very same one Twinkles had been seeing. The rookie cop recalled how the runner-slash-driver would often brag about his latest dame and how it was almost like sleeping with the enemy.
Once again, Ben studied the other photos and his eyes widened when he recognized two of the other victims. They had been girls working at Edwin's speakeasy a few months ago, they stopped coming but Ben just thought they decided they've had enough fun and got a different job. The brunette never got himself involved with the way Edwin ran his speakeasy and he wasn't about to start prying.
After seeing this, maybe he ought to.
The envelope contained nothing more than the same photo of the late Twinkles' girl.
"Here's the favor I'm asking of you," Phil began, "I need you to lose that envelope in Charmcaster's place sometime after work."
"What?!" Ben couldn't help himself as he stared in absolute shock.
"I'd do it myself but I'm a little busy trying to make sense of this whole mess of dead flapper girls. No one seems to be calling in asking about them so thankfully the press hasn't caught wind of it." Phil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You'd think it's a good thing that none of these women have families, but that makes finding things out about them a real doozy."
"But sir, why would you give such important information to Charmcaster?" Ben gawked.
"I wouldn't say it's giving away information as much as it is indirectly warning them about the danger. I know you're familiar with the speakeasies, The Usual in particular since you're great pals with the Pride boy, and you'd know they wouldn't accept our help. What more for Levin?" The lieutenant explained.
"No offense, sir, but won't they take it as a sort of threat?"
"Don't you worry about that, you're using this case as a cover story. Just tell them that you're investigating the death of some girls. You're likely to get a bum's rush at that joint so it'll be a convenient way for you to not realize you dropped the envelope. Think of it as being unofficially part of the team of Inspectors investigating the case." Phil adds with a smirk. "And if you manage to turn up some information, I'll even make it official."
"I don't get the chance to say no, do I?" Ben supposed there was an upside, this way he could keep an eye on Gwen personally. He even had a valid excuse to be there.
Phil chuckled, biting the cigar between his teeth, "Old Max really raised you to be a smart boy, didn't he?"
--
A cab pulled up to the curb and a youth wearing imitation aviator goggles half-jumped, half-skipped out. Sparks tossed a couple of coins at the driver before making a bee-line for Charmcaster's shop.
"Heya doll," He greeted the Madame who only rolled her eyes. "Boss says he's gonna be a little late in returning your dealer. He took her on the detour." He waggled his brows suggestively.
"Already?" Charmcaster rolled her eyes. "He's not wasting any time with Tennyson, I see."
"Sure ain't, took her to Driscoll's too!" Sparks added.
"He'd better not be moving too fast and scare her off." The Madame sighed.
"Funny you should mention moving too fast-" The driver was cut off by an un-amused glare from the platinum-haired woman. He chuckled nervously before scurrying into the backroom muttering about how everyone just pushed him around.
Charmcaster couldn't afford the luxury of a distraction at the moment. Not after the call she received earlier that day. It was from one of her girls who happened to have an Inspector for a main squeeze. The girl informed the Madame that the cops found Chloe but couldn't get anything more out of him other than a request that she keep her eyes peeled for any signs of danger.
Charmcaster chewed nervously on her lower lip, Mimi turned up floating in the east river, now Chloe's dead too?
It was obvious to her that someone out there was targeting Flappers and the Madame worried that she was next on the list. Maybe if she knew how Chloe got done in, Charmcaster would have an idea how to better the security of her joint. A painted nail pressed down on the phone's hook before dialing a number to call in a favor from one of her frequent clients.
"I'll be sure to send someone over tonight. And make sure you go easy on him, I had promised someone I'd look out for the kid."
Charmcaster stared impatiently out at the sunlight-flooded streets; evening wasn't going to come soon enough for her. Her expression soured when she saw a car driven by a hyperactive youth pull up in front of her shop. A diminutive, bald gentleman stepped out, flanked by a tall blonde and a muscular, ginger-haired man smoking a cigarette.
"Why Ike, never thought I'd see your mug in these parts. What's the matter hun, you get tired of doing everything for Edwin?" She drawled before drawing the curtains apart just enough to show that Rocky stood not too far away.
"Cinders, can you make sure Ace doesn't intentionally park in the wrong spot? We don't need him trying to woo anymore meter maids." Ike instructed.
The smoking man chuckled, flicking the ash off his cigarette before exiting the store. It was a show on Ike's part; he needed to let Charmcaster know he wasn't there to pick a fight. His visit was purely meant for information gathering but he kept Casey around just in case.
"I'm here to discuss matters pertaining to one of your female employees," Ike explained calmly, his beady eyes showing no emotion. "Particularly her relationship with one of our runners, the one who goes by the sobriquet of Twinkles."
Charmcaster kept her face just as blank; she knew who the liaisons officer was talking about. She had seen the aforementioned man hanging around but never quite coming inside. Not that Rocky or Fingers would let him in, but Chloe had been mooning over the Tricks' man. She had confronted the flapper about it before, informing the girl that Charmcaster didn't want another repeat of the Fiver-Bongo incident.
Chloe stood her ground, declaring that what she felt for Twinkles was genuine. Charmcaster would have disciplined the flapper right then and there were it not for the fact that they had an influx of Big Spenders that evening, Enoch, Morningstar and Councilman Liang to name a few. By the time they closed for the night, Chloe was long gone.
"I can't imagine which of my girls you're talking about. Imagine having a relationship with a Tricks man? I taught them to have better standards than that." She batted her darkly painted lids, "And as for that Twinkles, hun the only thing twinkling in my joints are the dresses and stockings my girls wear. Besides, you know none of the boys here would let a Tricks man into my parlor without my say so. This here threshold's as far as the Truce will allow, hun."
"I had hoped we'd be able to come to some sort of agreement, considering we'll be forced to suspect your girl, and indirectly you, to be involved in the recent strings of disappearing runners." Ike stated, deadpan.
"The girls are all that matter to me, the only boys I care to know about is Kevin, Rocky, Fingers, Edwin and most recently Ben." Charmcaster shrugged, as if the whole thing had no bearing on her.
"I find it quite unusual for you not to be in the loop, Madame." Ike sniffed imperiously, a feat in itself given how he barely came up to the platinum-haired woman's shoulders.
"You know what's strange, Ike? Just about the time I hear some of The Usual's girls become no-shows, mine are suddenly just vanishing too. If I didn't know any better, I'd say your real intention here is to spirit away more of my flappers. Heavens know you've already tried to swipe Beth and Lana." She declared venomously.
"I am afraid I am not familiar with either of their names." Ike merely adjusted his tie.
"I better not catch word you're trying any funny business with the rest of my girls, especially Tennyson. I've got big plans for that one." She leaned forward, eying Ike darkly before she hisses to him in an accent far more comfortable in the bayous, "You don' wanna be messin' wit' anyt'in mahn, homme."
"There aren't any gators here, Madame." Ike countered.
"Who said anything about those oversized purses, hun?" Charmcaster feigned innocence, words smoothly returning to her first accent as she idly turned her attention at the skulls and bones decorating her store. "You can keep flapping your gums about this Twinkles but there isn't anything I can tell you. And if you could be so kind gentlemen as to escort yourselves out of my establishment?"
Ike nodded, "Certainly and I do apologize for not calling ahead. The next time we make a visit, we shall be sure to let you know in advance."
"And there'll be more of us." Casey adds as stoic as Ike was polite.
The pair exits just as the shadows stretch out across the streets. Somehow, Charmcaster was glad that Kevin was taking his sweet time in coming back. She didn't even want to think how this would have played out if he had been present. To momentarily distract herself, she went to unwrap the package Morningstar had given her the other night.
It turned out to be a bottle of whiskey. Charmcaster clucked her tongue, clearly not impressed and rewrapped the booze. "This stuff's not even good enough to wet my whistle with, you piker."
--
Evening finally decided to grace the streets of New York City and Charmcaster anxiously waited for the messenger bearing news about Chloe. Amethyst eyes widened in disbelief when she saw a certain jalopy pull up. "Oh Philly, hun, did all that smoke and cheap hooch finally get to your head?"
Ben didn't look too pleased himself as he got out of the rust bucket. With the envelope tucked neatly inside his uniform, the brunette strode into the dress shop.
I'm here on official police business and it'd do us both a world of good if just you cooperate, Charmcaster. He repeated to himself and just as he was about to deliver it with authority, the platinum-haired woman just motioned for him to follow her.
Well, that was certainly unexpected. Ben blinked, not quite certain if he should do as Charmcaster instructed but he supposed he was there for a reason. At least this way he'd manage to see how Gwen was doing without needing to come up with a convincing line. He stepped through the curtain, noting that even if Kevin's speakeasy wasn't as luxurious as Edwin's, it wasn't any less clandestine or decadent when it came to what the establishment really offered.
Some of the girls were milling about, chatting in small clumps before noticing Ben's arrival. They winked invitingly at him, blew him kisses and flashed skin. The brunette ignored them, he was a man of principle and loyalty. If he were to indulge in a night of wine, women and song, he'd do it at The Usual.
Charmcaster led Ben to a small room that smelled of spice and had red dust sprinkled in a line across the entrance. He canted his head curiously before stepping over it, careful not to disturb so much as a speck. It wasn't that he knew what the line of sand meant, he just didn't want to have any proof that he had gone this deep into Kevin's speakeasy. Inside, painted masks and even more skulls and bones covered the walls and Ben couldn't help but shudder.
The Madame lit the room by flipping a switch as she settled down on a throne-like chair. She gestured Ben to sit on one of the numerous throw pillows and rugs scattered all over the floor. "I want you outta here before Kevin gets back. Now let's get this over and done with, hun." Her hand stretched out, palm upwards expectantly.
Ben had his orders to forget the envelope, but he didn't have to follow Phil's scenario. "I never knew you wanted me that way, but I gotta be honest you're a bit too old for me."
The woman's already terse expression turned ugly, "I'm not playing games, hun."
"I am." Ben grinned.
Charmcaster's lips curled into a sneer, "You seem to forget, lapdog, that you're in my joint. You don't get to make demands here."
"Oh I'll give you want you want, I am under orders." He shrugged, pulling out the envelope as well as a small pocket knife, "But it was never made clear what state this had to be in when I give it to you."
"You wouldn't dare." She narrowed her eyes.
"Oh I would." His eyes flashed with manic glee, "Besides, I ain't asking for much. Just give Gwen the night off, she's been town for a few days already and I haven't shown her a swell time like I promised my grandpa and Uncle Phil."
The Madame smirked, "Too bad Kevin already beat you to it. And I'm sure he's showing her the kind of time those of kin can't."
"Gwen ain't that big of a sap," Ben defended, frowning. "So what's it gonna be, Charmcaster?"
Charmcaster mulled over her options, she couldn't call in another favor from Phil without owing him this time around. The inspectors working on the case were extremely tight-lipped, even with her girls persuading them. There had to be a way she could turn this around to her advantage.
And she gave Ben a dazzling smile when she figured something out, "Well I suppose I could be persuaded to give Gwen the night off but what makes you certain I won't tell Kevin it was your idea and not mine? Think about it hun, Kevin knows you can't stand the idea of him being near the bearcat and that'll make him even more determined to get closer to her."
"Horsefeathers!" Ben spat. "Gwen ain't some Dumb Dora who won't figure out Kevin's not really interested in her."
"And won't she be even more steamed to learn that it all comes back to you?" The platinum-haired woman batted her lashes while smiling sweetly.
The brunette snarled beneath his breath before crumpling the envelope in his hand and hurling it to the floor. His boot came smashing down on the balled up wad, "See if you can make heads or tails of it now."
Charmcaster just shook her head, "You really shouldn't have done that, hun. I was just about ready to make you an offer you can't refuse."
"You ain't got nothing I want." He returned defiantly.
"I was going to tell you I'll give Gwen the night off without telling Kevin about our little meeting but you'll owe me for it. And I'll collect it whenever convenient for me." She began, "But now, if you even want your cousin to have some time for herself you're going to have to owe me and answer a few questions, hun."
Ben looked thoughtful, "So long as the favor doesn't involve bumping someone off or getting Edwin and his gang in trouble, I guess I could go with that."
The smile the cracked across Charmcaster's lips was very reminiscent of the feline called Cheshire. "I knew you'd see it my way, hun."
--
Author's Notes:
This chapter doesn't really have Gwen or Kevin in it for reasons that I simply want to advance the semblance of a plot that I have going on here XD Also, to those who are surprised or confused that Charmcaster is cajun, I had alluded to her heritage in the earlier chapters. I can understand why it might come as a surprise as subtlety really isn't my forte X(