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By Root 2948 0

my mother’s taste in male companions, I’d gotten some especially close looks at just how that work was done. But nothing I’d seen in all those years exceeded the outrages that somebody had committed against this very comely lady. There was an enormous bruise that started above her left eye, then moved down to swell the eye shut and end in a gash in the cheek. A rainbow patch of purple, black, yellow, and green spread out on either side of her nose and reached under her right eye, the one she could still see out of, showing pretty clearly that the nose itself had been busted. The flesh of the chin was all scraped away, while the right side of the mouth was dragged down into a continuous frown by another bad gash. From the painful way she moved, it was pretty apparent that the same kind of injuries had been inflicted to the rest of her body.

At the sound of the simultaneous hisses that came out of Mr. Moore, Cyrus, and me, the señora attempted to smile, and the faintest spark flashed in her lovely, deep brown right eye. “If you were to ask me,” she murmured, “I should say that I fell down the marble staircase of the consulate—after fainting from grief following the death of our child. You see, my husband and Consul Baldasano have already decided that, at those times when an explanation to outsiders is unavoidable, I am to say that my daughter was taken by illness. But she is not dead, Señor Moore.” The señora staggered forward a step or two, leaning on the umbrella. “I have seen her! I have—seen—” At that she seemed about to faint, and Miss Howard moved to her quickly, guiding her into one of Marchese Carcano’s plush easy chairs. I turned to Mr. Moore, and saw his face light up with a whole batch of reactions: anger, horror, sympathy, but above all consternation. He waved a hand in my direction vaguely. “Stevie …”

I already had the packet out and was lighting a stick for each of us. I handed him his, watched him pace back and forth a few times, and then got out of the way when he bolted for the telephone what was sitting on a desk behind me. “We’re way out of our depth here,” he mumbled, picking up the receiver. Then, in a stronger voice: “Operator? Police Headquarters on Mulberry Street. Central Office, Bureau of Detectives.”

“What?” Miss Howard said urgently, as a look of terror filled Señora Linares’s face. “John, no, I told you—”

Mr. Moore held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I just want to find out where they are. You know the boys better than that, Sara. They’ll keep it unofficial if we ask them to.”

“Who will?” the Linares woman whispered; but Mr. Moore turned his attention back to the ‘phone.

“Hello? Central? Listen, I have an urgent personal message for the Detective Sergeants Isaacson—can you tell me where they are? … Ah. Good, thanks.” He hung up the ‘phone and turned to me. “Stevie—apparently a body’s been discovered over at the Cunard pier. Lucius and Marcus are looking into it. How fast do you think you can get over there and get back with them?”

“If Cyrus’ll help me commandeer a hansom,” I answered, “half an hour. Three quarters at the outside.”

Mr. Moore turned to Cyrus. “Go.”

The pair of us sprang toward the elevator. Before reentering it, however, I paused just long enough to turn back to Mr. Moore. “You don’t think we should—”

Mr. Moore shook his head quickly. “We don’t know what this is yet. I won’t ask him to come back to this place until we’re sure.”

Cyrus put a hand to my shoulder. “He’s right, Stevie. Let’s go.”

I stepped into the elevator, Cyrus slammed the grate, and we moved back down the shaftway.

Because the Hotel St. Denis was right across the street, Number 808 had always been an easy spot to catch a cab at almost any hour of the day or night: there were two lined up outside the hotel when Cyrus and I crossed to it. The first was a four-wheeler, captained by an ancient geezer in a faded red liveryman’s jacket and a beat-to-hell top hat. He was nodding off in his seat and stank of booze from six feet away. His horse, however, was a good-looking grey mare who seemed game.

I turned to Cyrus.