The Guests

Mary stood nearby, hands to her mouth. Blitz took a step back. "She shot at you?"

I'll never forget Maria Athena's face, half lit in darkness.

She looked terrified.

She shot at me!

I'd done nothing to her! Why was she so afraid?

"Let's get you out of these clothes," Mary said.

Someone rapped on the front door.

"Come on," Mary whispered. She pulled on my arm. "It could be the police."

I let her pull me along into my room - which fortunately had the curtains shut - then I looked down. My charcoal walking dress was smeared with Madame's darkening blood.

Mary closed my door at the same moment Blitz opened the front door. "Okay," Blitz said to whoever it was. Then his voice turned inside the house. "They want you back at the Manor."

"Will she be well?" Honor sounded concerned.

"We'll take care of her," Blitz said.

But who would take care of Madame? She had no one. I looked over my shoulder at Mary, who was undoing my buttons. "I want her taken care of."

"Mum, you can't be involved with this at all. If someone comes looking for donations, then by all means give. But if they even think you killed her -"

I felt aghast. "That I killed her?"

"Did anyone see you come out of there covered in her blood?"

I stared at her. "I don't know."

Mary let out a breath. "Thank the gods you went in the plain carriage. We might be able to claim you were here the whole time."

My legs felt weak; I leaned on a chair for support. "They're trying to frame me for this, too."

"It's likely, mum."

"But why? I don't even know who these people are. I've never seen this woman in my life. Her mother sent me to help her!"

"Come on, mum," Mary said. She turned me gently towards her. "Let's get you out of this dress. Then we can decide what to do."

How could Madame be dead?

Mary wiped down my face and hands, and got a house dress on me. As she put my house shoes on my feet, she said, "There's a group of girls to see you. They arrived just before you did."

I blinked, confused. "Girls?"

"Well, one's older than that - a maid, I think. She helped before the auction? She said her name was Tenni."

"Tenni? Why is she here?"

"I don't know, mum. They came to the door out of breath like they ran. And they won't say what they want. Something's frightened them badly."

Tenni was nineteen. She used to be Madame's shop maid before Madame moved to Clubb quadrant - as well as my double when I needed to go out on a case. She looked like me from behind: the same reddish-brown curls, the same light brown skin. We used to be the same height.

She'd grown now, so pretending to be me from afar was no longer an option, but -

Horrified, I stared at Mary.

Mary stared back, her face concerned. "What's happened?"

"I think I know why they're here."

* * *

Tenni and her five sisters huddled together on my parlor sofa, their faces streaked with tears. Tenni stood when I came in.

I said, "What's wrong?"

Tenni's hair lay loose around her shoulders. She wore a house dress with a shawl, and her boots were untied. "Men came to the house. They -

The other five ranged from fifteen to eight. They burst into tears, all speaking at once:

"They banged on the door!"

"They had guns!"

"They shot our windows!"

"They tried to break in!"

Tenni's eyes reddened. "I didn't know where else to turn." Then her face turned suddenly alarmed. "Did I do wrongly?"

I put my arm around her thin shoulders. "You did well. Have you eaten?"

All six shook their heads.

"Mary," I called out. "We have guests for dinner."

* * *

I sent Blitz to a messenger stand to hand out anonymous messages to the girls' employers. They couldn't go to work until we had some idea whether they'd be safe there.

After dinner, I sent the younger ones to the back room next to my study. I took Tenni to the parlor, and told her about Madame.

Tenni leaned upon the sofa's arm, head on her arms, sobbing.

I'd cried so much already that I felt numb. I saw Madame die in front of me. But it didn't seem that she could possibly be dead.

I'd known her for almost six years. Madame Biltcliffe had made my engagement dress. She'd made my wedding dress. Most of the clothes I'd had in Bridges were made by her. Stunning works of art.

She'd been one of the first to help me get cases. Her becoming the person to screen those wishing my help meant I could reach other owners, merchants, women of class and worth.

I owed everything to her.

She loved me, not as a daughter, but as a woman.

She loved me.

And because of me, she was dead.

Tenni's sobs slowed, quieted. And I showed her Maria Athena Spade's portrait. "Have you seen this woman before?"

Tenni held it nearer the lamp. Then she handed it back to me. "No, mum, never."

Tenni could have been running an errand for Madame Biltcliffe at the time the young black-haired woman came to the shop. As Madame's shop maid, Tenni had seen many thousands of women coming and going over the years. She might just not remember her.

Or Maria Athena might never have been in the shop at all.

But why was Maria Athena in Clubb quadrant? Why was she outside Madame's shop? Why did she shoot at me? And why were men terrorizing these girls? "How did you escape?"

"There's a passage I'm not sure the landlord even knows about," Tenni said. "It's in the basement. It comes out in a boarded-up shop on 25th. The door opens onto the alley and you can lock it. We leave and enter that way when men are about."

I glimpsed what life must be like for these orphaned girls. Forced to walk the streets alone to jobs paying them a pittance, never safe from kidnapping or worse. It amazed me that they'd survived so far. "Don't you worry. I'll take care of everything."

* * *

Having sold all the extra furniture, it took a while to get places for six girls to sleep.

The back wall - the one joining the two sides of the duplex - had framed pictures upon it, with a large, heavy dresser below. The bed was big enough to fit three. So I pushed it to the other wall, then put heavy bedding under the window with light coverlets atop. That would do until we could buy a second bed.

The next morning, the police arrived. I'd told the girls to stay in the back room and keep the curtains shut until we felt sure they hadn't been followed.

Blitz put the officer in the parlor.

"Detective Constable Leone Briscola, mum." He showed me a well-worn brass shield clipped to the inside of his jacket. "Might I have a word?"

"Of course." I sat, gestured to the sofa. "Would you care to sit?"

Detective Briscola was not yet twenty, with dark hair and eyes. He had an attractive face, yet his navy suit was old and too large for him. He stood to my right across our new coffee table, beside the sofa. "No, thank you, mum." He stared straight ahead. "I regret to inform you that your former dressmaker, Madame Marie Biltcliffe, has died." He peered at me. "Her notes indicated you should be contacted in case of emergency."

Me? I felt astonished. But I had enough presence of mind to answer the question he must have if anyone thought they'd seen me there the previous night. "She's dead?"

He relaxed just a bit. "Yes. We're regarding it as suspicious."

I let my gaze fall. "So you think someone killed her?"

"That's possible. Do you know anyone who'd want to hurt her?"

I shook my head. I knew exactly who killed Madame. But this man surely wouldn't believe me. Besides, Tony had declared anything to do with the Ten of Spades or the Red Dog Gang a Family matter. Which meant I couldn't speak to the police about it even if I wanted to.

He took a notepad and pencil from his pocket. "I realize she was your dressmaker. Yet I'm learning that Madame Biltcliffe had a certain -" he hesitated. "Um, reputation."

I nodded. From her own words, she'd had many liaisons since moving to Bridges, none of them with men.

"So I feel curious as to -"

This amused me. "Our relationship?"

"Well, yes, if you put it that way."

We were in the room, yet it felt empty. "I looked to her as a mother. You may not know, but I've not been with my mother for many years. I lost her last March in the zeppelin explosion."

"I'm very sorry to hear that."

I did love you, Madame, if not as you wished. "So I'm grieved at Madame Biltcliffe's passing, more so if someone has hurt her." My eyes stung, remembering the wound she'd taken. The blood.

Detective Briscola nodded. "This explains her wishing you to be contacted, then," he said to himself. "Rather than her husband."

I blinked, taken aback. "Her husband?"

This seemed to confuse him. "Yes, mum. Did you not know? He followed her here, many years ago."

"I - I knew she'd been married, but -"

"But what?"

I shook my head, puzzled. "She believed he thought her dead."

The detective's eyes widened, his head tilting a bit to one side. "Now that is interesting."

"Do you think perhaps he did it?"

Detective Briscola let out a short laugh. But then he sobered. "We're looking into all possibilities, mum."

"I don't understand. What could possibly be funny about this?"

He seemed abashed. "Forgive me, mum." For a moment, he stood silent, head down. Then he straightened. "So you didn't know her husband is your - Spadros Manor's -"

I peered at him. "What?"

"Mum, her husband is Monsieur Tongo Sabacc. The chef for Spadros Manor."