Things had been going so well until that worthless, conniving double of mine murdered my brother. My empire had been growing strong, my men were ruthless but trustworthy, and I had the love of the most beautiful avian in Saint Canard. Funny how things change. My brother, Nicholas, was two years younger than I, and was always getting himself into trouble. He was too impulsive, too careless, but that wasn't the reason he got caught. He had set a trap for him. My disreputable twin. It had been meant for me; Nicholas got in the way. And he paid with his life. He sent him to the electric chair.
It was also thanks to him that not long after my wife was murdered, too. My perfect, beautiful, shrewd wife who matched my intellect and cunning on every level. Thanks to Jacob, I lost the best thing I ever had. My son always hated me for that, for not being a stronger man. He knows nothing of the real world – thinks it's all a game to be played. It's a lesson I've yet to teach him.
It's a lesson I made sure to teach Jacob long ago. An eye for an eye, old friend.
"Are you certain?" I growled lowly amid my dark reverie.
"Yeah. Pretty little thing. She gave him a handkerchief an' everythin' before they was shot at."
Instantly my interest peaked. Someone else wanted Mallard dead. "What?"
"Yeah. Guy up on the fire escape. I seen 'im run away. Looked like a goat or somethin'."
"And Mallard?" I demanded almost savagely. "Was he injured?"
My spirits sank the moment the lackey shook his head, and with a dismal wave I dismissed him. At least there was someone else who hated the P.I. as much as I did. It was a comforting thought…although I wanted to be the one who had the satisfaction of rubbing out that loathsome duck.
Agitated now, I picked up the receiver of my phone and dialed my best man. "Steelbeak? I have a job for you…"
Tuxedos had never been an outfit I had taken a like to wearing. They were stiff and uncomfortable, in contrast to the business suits I wore in the office, but I'll be damned if I didn't look absolutely smashing in them. The suggestive glances I received from women alone were enough to convince me to make them everyday wear. I'd opted for a top hat this evening, which elongated my already high forehead in a distinguished manner, and the long black coat I wore dramaticized the breadth of my shoulders. I knew I looked the equal of Cluck Gable in this get-up, and date or no date, I was going to use it to my advantage.
"Ladies," I said smoothly with a tip of my hat as I passed a small group of young women chattering amongst themselves. Giggles erupted from their clique, and I smirked. Even at 55, I still had the power to bring a blush to any woman's face.
It was a quarter to eight, and the museum had pulled out all the stops in decorating for the gala event. A gigantic banner stretching over the thick red carpet proclaimed: Ethiopian Splendor, Featuring the Rock of Ages, and the towering marble columns were snaked with twinkling white lights. Standing just next to one of the columns was my date – well, really more someone of convenience than a date. A mallard wandering through corridors is less conspicuous with a partner at his side, and she hadn't been doing anything despite the short notice.
"Miss McCawber," I greeted her with a slight bow. I was many things, but a gentleman first and foremost.
She gave a small smile and curtseyed, and were I not preoccupied with a case I would have taken notice of just how lovely she looked in her glittering silver gown. As it was, I complimented her out of habit rather than meaning.
"You look fantastic."
A faint rosiness climbed in her cheeks, but I was already heading inside. Masses of people swarmed through the museum lobby like bees in a hive, buzzing with inconsequential gossip and exchanging scathing criticisms of the lower classes. I was used to this sort of drivel, as I moved easily up and down the social ladder, and ignored the empty, tangled banter. Instead I scrutinized the throngs of socialites for Steelbeak or any other member of Jake's gang even though I knew they wouldn't be stupid enough to be seen in public. They were on every wanted poster in the city and, despite St. Canard's lapse in justice, it would be an enormous risk to reveal themselves in the middle of an upper-class gala.
Miss McCawber sidled up next to me, her eyes wide as saucers. It was clear that she hadn't been to anything like this before although she certainly looked the part.
"Are you sure there's going to be a lead here on my sister? Do you think someone here knows what happened to her?"
All right, so I told her a little white lie to get her here. I'll make it up to her…eventually.
"Yeah, sure, kid," I said distractedly, earning a glare from my date. Apparently she didn't like nickname. "Try some of the hors d'oeuvres and some champagne."
She sulked, looking every bit the young woman just out of her teenage years that she was, until she caught sight of the large chocolate fountain at the end of the elegant buffet table. Noting that her attention was elsewhere, I resumed my analysis of the lobby, deciding in which of the museums six wings I would most likely find my informant. I immediately ruled out the newest exhibit, because it would not only be the most crowded but also the most heavily guarded.
"Mallard, old boy!"
I cringed and tried to slink into the shadows. No such luck.
"What are you doing here?" A burly, mustached gander lumbered toward me and slung an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side hug that resulted in a temporarily constricted airway. "Up to your usual antics?"
I managed to worm my way out of his grip and regain some of my dignity. "You know me, Mayor West. Always up for a good time."
"Up for some free booze is more like it," the major chuckled.
I smiled placidly, his comments rolling off of me like candle wax. I was used to such comments. The police force and many SHUSH agents insinuated the same of me, that I was a washed up detective turned alcoholic. In some ways, they were right.
"Yeah, thanks for that. Although next year why not skip the formality and have an open bar?"
While the city official tried to come up with a clever comeback to cover his dumbfounded expression, I weaved through the assembly toward my young companion.
"If anyone asks for me," I whispered to her as I lightly touched her elbow, "I'm drumming up business anywhere except the Industrial Revolution exhibit."
She turned her head, catching my insinuation almost immediately. "You're meeting someone there? With information on Morgana?"
"Not exactly," I said.
"I'm coming, too."
I blinked, taken off guard. This woman didn't mince words, at least where her sister was concerned. She was beginning to cramp my style.
"Miss McCawber, I really think you would serve a better purpose if—"
"And I think, Mr. Mallard, that no matter what you say, the only reason you have a case is because of me. I hired you to find my sister, and I'm not going to stand by any longer waiting for you to do your job. I'm coming with you to make sure you do what I paid you to do."
While the mayor's words hadn't phased me, hers prickled my feathers. I could see that my powers of persuasion would have no affect on this blonde beauty. She was more trouble than she was worth; however, she was right. I was indebted to her for paying in advance a month's rent for my office. And, being the gentleman that I was, I decided to even the score.
"Very well," I muttered gruffly with a slight smirk. "As the lady wishes." I offered her my arm, and after a moment's hesitation she took it.
I paraded her across the flawless marble floor and up the wide staircase to the second level, from which there was a magnificent view over the ornate railing. As inconspicuously as we could, we strode toward one of the roped off sections.
"Uh, excuse me?"
We paused, and our heads turned in unison like children with their hands in the cookie jar.
"Sorry folks, you can't go back that way. It's closed for the evening. You can view the new exhibit if you'd like, or you're welcome to return downstairs for refreshments. The curator's speech is about to start in a few minutes."
"Is there a restroom up here, my good man?" I inquired in my most formal tone. I believed that if I bluffed enough, I could persuade the young official to let us past. "The lady is quite in need of some relief."
The man hesitated for a moment, then recognition sparked on his face. "Hey…aren't you that drunk ex-cop?"
My eyebrows quickly shrouded my black irises. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about…"
"Yeah, you were in the papers a while back. Didn't you almost run a kid over 'cause you were driving a squad car drunk?"
"That's enough."
"Sorry about your wife and kid…"
The increasing tenseness in my body didn't escape the notice of Miss McCawber, and she intervened not a moment too soon.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but…the restroom?" She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feigning a full bladder.
"Oh yeah." The young man blushed. "You can go ahead and use the one right around the corner there."
She smiled appreciatively, and his blush deepened. "Thank you."
I put my arm around her shoulders and led her away while the museum official moved toward the top of the stairwell to oversee the proceedings about to begin.
"Impressive," I complimented her.
She looked at me searchingly as we turned down the corridor, heading toward the early 1900's display. "You're an ex-cop and an alcoholic?!"
"You say that like it's a bad thing…" I joked lightly, though my attention was on the approaching exhibit.
"But…but, but…" She sounded so distressed and so utterly confused.
I stopped abruptly, no longer able to suppress the annoyance I was surprised to find had been growing. "Listen, I'm the best detective in St. Canard. You want me off the case, that's your decision, but good luck getting any of those badge-wearing boors to –"
"Mr. Mallard," she interjected her voice so soft it caught me off guard, "I'm not ready to fire you just yet…" Her gaze grew very sincere, and in looking at her – really looking at her – she had to be one of the most genuine people I had ever met. "I have faith in you. All I ask is that you show me that that faith is warranted."
I gave her a hard look that was neither cold nor friendly. "Stay here by the steam engine. I need to speak with an informant."
She raised a questioning eyebrow, but did as I bade her. With little effort my footsteps fell silent on the shining marble floor as I moved through the exhibit, my senses heightened for any sign of the metal-mouthed cock.
I had passed into the Roaring Twenties before I turned and began heading back, just as cautiously. There was no telling what Jake's lackey had in mind, or if this was all some kind of an elaborate plan to draw my attention away from…
I stopped short. In coming around a wooden platform that explained Edison's electric bulb, I had a clear view of the steam engine display. Miss McCawber was not there. I frowned slightly, but didn't think much of it. Perhaps she had grown curious and gone to look at the exhibit. Or perhaps she was busy fending off that young museum official that had been so obviously taken with her. I inched forward, analyzing every nook and cranny before continuing.
"Miss McCawber…?" I murmured into the empty space.
The moment I heard the hammer click into place, I knew exactly where she was.
"Awww, miss your little goilfriend? Eheheheheheheheheh…"
"Let her go, Steelbeak," I snarled. With a swift turn I laid eyes on the braggart pressing an M1911 to her temple. Flanking him were a few more members of Jake's sin squad, whose firearms were aimed squarely at my chest.
"No can do, compadre," the rooster sneered. "Da boss has big plans for dis one."
"Her?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. It didn't add up. "What does Jake want with her?"
Steelbeak scoffed. "As if I'm gonna tell you."
"Which is just another way of saying that you have no idea," I offered with a knowing smirk.
His beady eyes glowered at me for an instant before he suddenly swept the blonde up in a fireman's carry and took off running, leaving me to deal with his armed posse.
Author's Note: Sorry for the incredibly long absence on updates with this fic! I'd wanted to finish The Sins of the Father before continuing, and now that that's taken care of, it's back to this one! If you'd like more Jacob-ness, don't hesitate to read Sins! Please R&R.