21

“You nervous?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did you make sure to wear your special panties… ow!” Ridley laughed, rubbing his arm where Nairo had punched him. “You don't know Sarge, you might get lucky tonight.”

“We’re here in a professional capacity,” Nairo said.

“I’m sure there’ll be quite a few girls there in a professional capacity.” Ridley dodged out of the way as Nairo swung another punch at him. “What? Might be good for you to finally get a little action.”

“I do just fine thank you,” Nairo said, brushing back a loose strand of her curly hair.

“Are you wearing makeup?”

“Shut up, Ridley!”

“Alright. Alright.” Ridley said. “Geez, I thought going to an orgy might mellow you out.”

“Ughh, stop saying that word.”

“Orgy?”

“Yes. We’ve done a lot of things I never thought I would ever do, but going to an orgy together really is at the top of that pile.”

Ridley laughed and then smoothed back his hair. He had actually shaved and bathed for the occasion, and he had even ironed his shirt.

“There you are!” Gerald waved at them from the corner of the street. He was dressed in ludicrously tight white trousers and a flowing white shirt with frilly collars and cuffs. His shirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel. His lion’s mane of long blonde hair was freshly coiffed and smelt like dandelions in the sun. “I thought you might have gotten cold feet. It does happen.”

“We’re here to investigate, that’s all.” Nairo said to him pointedly.

“Sure, sure, of course. You are very professional, Ms. Nairo… but I wish you would let me do something with your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Nairo said, trying to smooth down her wild curls.

“Wrong? No, nothing, but it could be so much more right.” Gerald said with a warm smile. “I’ll book you in one day. Give you the full pampering treatment.”

“That sounds lovely,” Ridley said, grinning at Nairo.

“And as for you, Mr. Ridley, you look dashing.”

“He does?”

“I do?”

“Oh yeah. The gaunt, insomniac look is all the rage right now. I know models that starve themselves for weeks to get the sort of jaw definition you’ve got going on.”

“Solid diet of cheap coffee and smokes,” Ridley said. “Nothing like it.”

“I’ll let them know,” Gerald said, linking arms with both of them and leading them down the street.

They were in one of the poshest boroughs of the city, only a stone’s throw from the Houses of Parliament. The streets were spotless; all the paving slabs were crack free and symmetrical, there wasn’t even a loose cobble in sight. The houses were all four story, grey stones, with long windows and elaborate arches everywhere. It didn’t feel like the type of place people lived in but rather just visited. There were little signs of life other than the odd person out walking their little floofy dogs or a solitary carriage trundling by.

“Now, just a warning, things can get a little intense at these parties,” Gerald said. “First timers aren’t pressured to take part, and if you want, you can just hang out by the bar all night. If you’re not interested in partaking in the night’s activities, I recommend you stay on the first floor and make sure to knock before entering the bathroom. I’d keep your drink in sight at all times. Some people think it’s funny to pop something in there. And do remember, there will be some very powerful people at this party, doing some very naughty things, so don’t go asking names and being all detectivey, okay?”

“But we're here to investigate,” Nairo said.

“Sure, sure, but you’re there to talk to Fred, right? So stick to that. If I can, I’ll try and get Fred alone so you can speak to him. He’s a lot more… accessible at these do’s than at any other time. Although, you’ll want to catch him early in the night, otherwise, he might be… engaged.”

“They got food?” Ridley asked.

“Oh yes. Private chefs who make the most delightful little nibbles. Do you know Garvoire’s?”

“Funnily enough, we know the chef,” Ridley said.

Gerald stopped mid stride and looked at him.

“You know Francois Garvoire?”

“Yeah, we met him a few months back on another case we were working,” Ridley said.

“He was very… intense,” Nairo added. “His food is amazing, though.”

“This fish head soup!” Ridley murmured dreamily, his mouth filling with saliva.

“Wow, you two are just full of surprises. I don’t think Francois will be there himself, but his chefs will be catering.”

They rounded another corner, and Gerald stopped in front of the four storey building on the corner.

“Here we are!” He walked up to the doorman, who was wearing a long red coat and a shiny black top hat. “Good evening, Stephen.”

“Good evenin’ Mr Hunt,” the doorman said, doffing his hat. “You here for the party?”

“Of course. It’s not a party until Gerald Hunt arrives. Oh and Stephen, these are my guests, Sally and Ridley.”

“Good evenin’ sir, good evenin’ marm.” Stephen held the door open for them.

“Thank you squire,” Ridley said, tucking a half penny into Stephen’s breast pocket.

Stephen looked down at the half penny, clearly unimpressed.

“Thank you sir, very generous,” he said robotically.

They walked into a luxurious lobby, with carpet so thick Nairo felt like she was walking on air. There was a giant gilt mirror at the end of the lobby and glistening golden chandeliers. Gerald walked to the lifter and pressed a button to call it. They stepped in, and Gerald instructed the little Pixie on duty to take them to the third floor.

“Does Shumacker own a flat here?” Nairo asked, looking around at the lifter’s luxury interior.

“He owns the building, darling.” Gerald said, checking out his hair and teeth in the mirror.

They exited the lifter and were met by another little Pixie in a miniature doorman’s outfit.

“Good evening, sirs and lady,” the Pixie said, it’s voice distant and dreamy. “Welcome. Do you require masks?” The Pixie gestured to a collection of eye masks on the table by him.

“No thanks, I’ve brought my own.” Gerald pulled a sequinned black mask from his pocket and slid it over his golden mane. “It’s a masquerade, remember, you’ll need masks.”

Nairo looked at Ridley, who shrugged and selected a mask from the pile. There were all sorts of different decorations and styles. Some were frilly, some were brightly coloured, and some were in the shape of various animals. Nairo picked a bird themed one with a large black feather.

“May I take your coats?” The Pixie asked.

“Not on your life my little friend,” Ridley said reflexively.

Gerald cleared his throat and looked pointedly down at him.

“Come on Ridley,” Nairo said, pulling off her trench coat. “We’re trying to blend in.”

“Guard this with your life,” Ridley growled at the Pixie, dropping the coat in his arms and almost knocking him over with the weight of it.

“Oooh, Sally, you look wonderful!” Gerald said.

“A dress?” Ridley said, raising both his eyebrows.

“It is a party,” Nairo said, feeling slightly self conscious all of a sudden.

“Black really suits you sweetie,” Geral said.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress,” Ridley said.

“Well big shocker, Mister PI, I own a dress.”

Ridley smirked and then pulled down the cuffs of his shirt.

“Ready to do this?” he asked her, and Nairo nodded.

Gerald opened the door and walked in with a beaming smile.

Nairo wasn’t sure what she had expected. A part of her thought it would be a cornucopia of flesh, a wild flood of debauchery as soon as they walked through the door. She was slightly let down by what was, despite the luxury, a rather mundane dinner party. Everything was white and purple. The walls were covered in wood panelling that had been painted a brilliant white, as was the ceiling. The carpet was a deep, plush purple, with splashes of gold. The room was lit by one monstrous golden chandelier that looked like it cost more than Nairo’s entire worth. The centre of the room had been entirely emptied of furniture. To one side of the open planned living room, there was a small bar, complete with a Pixie bartender, and on the other side was a quartet playing gentle music. There was much laughter and a buzz of conversation when they entered. Already the room was hot and filled with the smells of expensive alcohol and exquisite food.

A statuesque, dark haired woman in her fifties detached herself from the gathering and approached them. She wore a shimmering red dress with a slit in the side all the way up to her hip and a feathery black cat mask.

“Gerald! Honey! You’re finally here!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms wide and giving Gerald a warm hug with a kiss on either cheek.

“Martha, you look fabulous! I swear you’ve never aged a day!” Gerald said, his hands lingering on Martha’s hips.

“And who are these two little darlings?” Martha asked, her hand sliding down Gerald’s chest.

“Martha, these are two of my new friends, Ridley and Sally.”

“Pleasure to meet you both.” She gave them a dazzling smile. “I like him,” she said to Gerald. “He’s nice and tight.”

“Down Martha, they’re newbies, let’s break them in gently.” Gerald said.

“I’d love to break him in,” Martha said with a wicked smile.

“You would?” Ridley said nervously, inching slightly closer to Nairo.

“Oh stop Martha, you are wicked!”

Martha gave a sparkling laugh and then took Gerald by the hand.

“Come Jerry, there’s a lovely dark skinned boy I think you would just love to meet.” She led him away, much to Ridley’s relief.

“Corr, they’re a bit much aren’t they,” Ridley said, unbuttoning his top button.

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“Tell me about it,” Nairo said. “Can you see Shumacker?”

“No, but we’re gonna look like a right pair if we just stand here by the door. Come on, let's get a drink.”

“Gladly,” Nairo said, feeling the hungry eyes of saggy, middle aged men as she walked through the room.

“Two shots of something expensive and dark,” Ridley said to the Pixie. “And whatever she’s having.”

“Same please.”

The Pixie poured their drinks, and they propped themselves up at the bar, scoping the room.

“Lot of fat sweaty blokes here ain’t there,” Ridley commented as he downed one of his drinks.

“Tell me about it,” Nairo said as she made accidental eye contact with a man in a lion mask. He flicked his tongue at her and winked.

“No Shumacker though,” Ridley said.

“You don’t think he’s already… you know.”

“Let’s hope he’s quick about it if he is. I can already feel my skin crawling.”

“Entree sir?” A Pixie floated by them with a tray almost as big as himself.

“Yes please,” Ridley said without asking what they were.

He stuffed two of the little pastries into his mouth and then grabbed a handful.

“Mmm, that’s delishos,” he said through a mouthful.

Nairo picked one up and tried it. It was some sort of savoury meat concoction, and it was the best thing she had eaten in months. She grabbed two more before the Pixie walked away with a half empty tray.

“Keep ‘em comin’!” Ridley called after him as he downed his second drink. “Reload me, bartender.”

“Ridley, we’re not here to eat and get drunk,” Nairo chided.

“No, it’s just a perk of the job. Quinn always used to tell me, when you’re working in the shit, always try and pocket a bit of gold.”

“What?”

“It means take the perks where you can get ‘em,” Ridley said, happily popping another pastry into his mouth. “Are those tiny steaks!”

A Pixie passed them with a tray laden with bite size pieces of sizzling steak on toothpicks. Ridley scooped the whole tray off the surprised Pixie. He popped three into his mouth at once. The smell of sizzling meat made Nairo’s stomach growl.

“Fine we stuff our faces, but no getting drunk,” Nairo said as she popped a piece of steak into her mouth.

It was beautiful. The steak was perfectly cooked and was so buttery. Nairo hadn’t eaten a real piece of meat in so long. She couldn’t stop herself from wolfing down four more.

“Go easy there,” Gerald laughed, as he walked over. “You’ll get a cramp!”

“Pish off,” Ridley growled like a hungry dog.

“So you don’t want to know where Fred is?”

Ridley’s head popped up, butter dripping down his chin, and he swallowed a massive mouthful of steak. Gerald helped himself to a piece of steak and then ordered a glass of wine.

“He’s upstairs and apparently he’s alone,” Gerald said. “You might want to get up there now. The funtime drugs are coming out, and things are gonna get a little crazy.”

Ridley wolfed down another bite of steak and downed his drink.

“Come on, Sarge.”

Nairo took another sip of her drink to clear her mouth.

“Thank you, Gerald.”

“You’re welcome darling, just remember what I told you about upstairs.” He flashed her a wolfish grin and watched them go.

Ridley was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. They ascended the marble wrought staircase. There was red lighting everywhere upstairs, and it was so dim she could barely see.

“Which room is he in?” Nairo whispered to Ridley, feeling suddenly like an intruder.

“He didn’t say,” Ridley muttered back.

As they crept through the landing, they heard the squeaking of bed springs around them and giggling followed by fleshy slapping. Ridley pulled a face and then chuckled. Nairo felt a blush rising on her cheeks and was glad for dim lighting. A door burst open to their left and Nairo and Ridley froze. A skinny man came running out of the room, fully naked, with a sock puppet being the only thing saving his dignity. He was red in the face and unsteady on his feet. A naked woman followed him out of the room with a whip in one hand. She grabbed him by the sock puppet and dragged him back into the room slamming the door shut. Ridley blinked and looked at Nairo.

“Did he have a…”

“Yes. Let’s just keep going,” Nairo said.

“It was so floppy.”

“Please don’t.”

They made their way to another door, and it sounded fairly silent. Ridley tested the handle and it turned. They opened the door and found a portly man hanging from the ceiling, spread eagle, and completely naked except for a bag over his head.

“Melissa?” he said, turning his head towards the door.

“Wrong room!” Nairo said, almost jumping at the sight of him.

“How did you get up there?” Ridley asked him as Nairo slammed the door shut. “How did he get up there?” he asked Nairo.

Nairo shrugged.

“What do you think he was going to do?”

“I don’t even want to know.”

They heard more wild giggling and moaning from the next two rooms and gave them a wide berth. Finally, they came to the last room on the landing. Ridley went to try the handle and Nairo stopped him. She knocked on the door and waited.

“Come in,” a man’s voice said.

“Are you decent?” Nairo asked through the door.

“Unfortunately.”

Nairo opened the door to a large office. There was a stuffed bookcase to their left and a large, expensive looking desk opposite. A man was sitting by the tall windows that led onto a modest balcony. The windows were open and a cold breeze was blowing into the room. The man was sitting half facing the window, in a grey smoking jacket, puffing on a thin black cigar while staring up into the sky. Next to him on a small side table was a mountain of powders and leafs.

“Wilfreid Shumacker?” Nairo asked.

“Call me Fred.” He rolled his head to one side to look at them. His eyes were a dull red, and there was the glistening track of a single tear on his unshaven cheek. He looked so much less put together than the first time they had seen him. He was unshaven, his hair was a tousled mess, and he was completely naked other than the bathrobe. “I don’t know you,” he said.

“No sir,” Nairo replied. “May we come in?”

“Please, and there’s no reason for formalities. Here we’re all just flesh and blood. Reduced to our basest desires like rutting animals in heat.” He said this almost bitterly.

Nairo and Ridley walked into the office and closed the door behind them.

“Oh shit!” Ridley jumped as he looked over his shoulder and saw a young, pale skinned man and an almost identical young woman, intertwined on the fur carpet, sleeping peacefully.

“Oh don’t worry about them. They’ve worn themselves out.” Fred said, waving a nonchalant hand. “You’re not their replacements, are you?”

“What? No!” Nairo said, feeling herself blush again as she realised she could see the outline of his manhood as he uncrossed his legs.

“Oh good. I don’t think I could go again for at least another half an hour. Drink?”

“Please,” Ridley said.

“Whisky or bourbon?”

“Anything dark is good for me,” Ridley said.

“Good man.” Fred clamped his cigar between his teeth and took the top off a crystal decanter. He poured a generous measure for Ridley and one for himself before looking at Nairo.

“No, thank you.”

“You prefer something more fun?” he asked, gesturing at the menagerie of drugs next to him.

“No thanks.”

Fred looked at her curiously, then put the decanter back on the table and passed Ridley a glass. He then licked his fingertip, dabbed a pile of pale orange crystals, and then rubbed his finger across the inside of his cheek. He smacked his lips and downed half of his drink.

“So if you’re not here to fuck or get high, what are you here for?” Fred asked them. There was no accusation in his tone nor curiosity.

“We were hoping to discuss the passing of Lana LaRue with you,” Nairo said.

At the mention of the name, Nairo saw a pulse of agony pass across Fred’s serene face. He looked out of the window again and up at the sky.

“Why?” he croaked.

“We believe Lana…”

“Susie. Her name was Susie.”

“We believe Susie’s death may not have been an overdose…”

“Why? Who are you? What business do you have making such theories?” Again Fred’s tone wasn’t harsh. He sounded like a wounded child.

“We’re Private Investigators,” Ridley said.

“Oh there it is,” Fred said. “Who put you up to this? Susie had no money if that’s what you’re hoping for. There’s no coins to squeeze from this tragedy. But if gold is what you’re after.” Fred lumbered unsteadily from his chair before they could speak and grabbed a bag from the desk. He tossed it at Ridley’s feet, and it spilled open. Gold glimmered in the moonlight. More gold than Nairo had ever seen in one place. Fred stumbled back to his chair and picked his glass back up. “Take it and leave me to my drink.”

“We don’t want your gold,” Ridley said, his voice cold as he kicked the bag back towards Fred, spilling more coins across the carpet.

“Everybody always wants my gold,” Fred muttered as he downed the rest of his drink.

“Did Susie?” Ridley asked.

The question stung Fred. He was too inebriated to keep anything from his face. He looked at Ridley, his eyes ablaze with fury.

“Susie was as pure as the white snow. She didn’t care that I’m an Owner, or that I’m rich! And I didn’t care that she was a famous starlet. We loved each other, so deeply…” Another tear traced its way down his cheek as he took another hit of the orange powder.

“And a friend of mine was murdered,” Ridley said. “Murdered because he found something out about Susie that he shouldn’t have. Perhaps, that someone wanted her dead and he was killed in the exact same way.”

“Susie wasn’t murdered. She died of an overdose.” Fred said, his voice devoid of emotion again.

“What if she wasn’t?” Nairo asked. “We believe there were some suspicious events around Susie at the time of her death and that perhaps there was foul play.”

“Why would anyone want to harm Susie?” Fred replied, pouring another brimming glassful of whiskey. “She was the most gentle, innocent soul.”

“That was sleeping with a married man,” Ridley said.

Fred looked at him, almost as if he was confused by the statement.

“So?”

“You don’t think that’s a bit messed up?” Ridley asked. “You’re married with a kid.”

“My wife knows and understands. Now she’s given birth to my heir, she knows her position will always be secure. The gold is all she is worried about. Susie loved me and I loved her.”

“And would your wife… could your wife have harmed Susie?” Nairo asked. “We find in cases of infidelity, it is usually the partner that is the main suspect.”

Fred leaned his head back and gave a short laugh.

“My wife didn’t even know about Susie. She stays in our manor out by the Glacial Lakes and rarely comes into the city. Like I said, as long as all her needs are met, she doesn’t care where I am or what I’m doing. She knew all about this part of my life before she married me.” He waved a hand at the two naked people sleeping on his floor.

“Still, jealousy can make people do crazy things,” Ridley said.

“There has to be love to be jealousy,” Fred said. “She barely lets me touch her since our son was born, and I can’t say I’m too bothered.”

“And you can’t think of anyone else who might have had a dislike towards Susie, or someone who might have wished her harm?” Nairo asked.

“No. Susie was perfect. So sweet and kind. Anyone who met her loved her.”

“Not even Manny Litteragi?” Nairo asked, carefully watching his face for a reaction.

Fred snorted into his whisky.

“That fat worm wants to get in every actress's panties,” he replied.

“And how do you think he would have reacted when he found out Susie wanted to quit halfway through the run?” Ridley asked.

“How do you know that?” Fred asked sharply.

“We know. And if we know, there’s a chance Manny might have.” Ridley replied.

“And what would he gain from killing Susie?” Fred asked.

“Revenge?” Ridley said.

“Manny’s as greedy a fat sot as I’ve ever met. He wouldn’t kill the goose that laid the golden eggs.”

“But Susie was clean before she died, wasn’t she?” Nairo said.

“Yes. She’d gone off the drink and drugs.”

“But then she overdoses?”

Fred slammed his glass down and leaned forward, his face buried in his hands. He sobbed so violently his whole body quivered.

“I… don’t… know… why!” he whimpered. He raised his face to the moonlight, looking at the stars again. “I don’t know why she would! My poor Susie! Why did you leave me!” he slurred, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Please. Leave. I can’t… I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“We’re sorry…” Nairo began.

“Just go! Please!” Fred said, tears dripping from his chin. “Leave the memory of Susie alone. Please!”

Nairo looked at Ridley, and he nodded. Fred’s outburst had awoken the two naked lovers. They rose groggily. Unbidden, the girl walked over to Fred, completely ignoring Ridley and Nairo. She fell to her knees in front of him and began untying his bathrobe. Nairo and Ridley quickly exited and left Fred to his grief.

“Let’s get the fuck out of this weird place,” Ridley said.

They raced down the stairs, slipped out of the front door, and collected their coats from the Pixie. They took the stairs rather than wait for the lifter and gave Stephen a quick terse nod as they exited. Only once they were around the corner and down the street did their pace slow.

“Ughhh, I’m going to need to bathe for a week after that,” Nairo said.

“Yeah, I’m gonna burn these clothes.”

They walked in silence down the quiet street.

“You still like Shumacker for it?” Nairo asked.

Ridley shook his head.

“I dunno," Ridley said. "That wasn't an act. He might be a lot of things, but he's no murderer. Let alone a cold, calculated one that would poison his lover.”

“So we’re back at square one,” Nairo said dejectedly. “You know, the same question keeps popping up with everyone we speak to.”

“Why would anyone want to hurt Susie?” Ridley asked.

“Yes. Every one of them has said the same thing. Maybe we should think about motives instead of suspects.”

“Take your pick,” Ridley said. “Being a powerful man’s mistress for one.”

“But Shumacker didn’t do it.”

“The wife?”

“He said she didn’t even know about Susie.”

“So he thinks.”

“By the sounds of it, I don’t think she’d care. After all, it’s not like Susie is the only woman he’s slept with since they’ve been married. And I doubt she’s killing all of them.”

“True, we’d run out of room in the graveyards,” Ridley said. “If the motive ain’t love or jealousy, then it’s usually gold. In a murder this calculated, I’m guessing it wasn’t a crime of passion.”

“What about her quitting the stage?” Nairo said. “A lot of people relied on her for their wages. She was the main star after all.”

“The director Manny stood to lose the most if she quit.” Ridley replied.

“Plus he has a history of despicable behaviour.” Nairo said.

“Being despicable doesn’t equal being a murderer. And besides, like Shumacker said, how does it help him financially if Susie’s dead?”

“Gerald said he’s sold out the memorial tour.”

“That’s a pretty big gamble to take,” Ridley replied. “Killing your starlet and hoping her memorial tour does big business.”

“Eliza and Gerald said he was also sweet on Susie. Could have been a revenge killing. Revenge for bankrupting him and revenge for rejecting him.”

“You like Manny for this?”

“He has the most motive. After all…”

“Who would want to hurt Susie?” Ridley finished for her. “Alright. Let’s look into the director. See what we can dig up on him.”

“After we bathe.”

“After we bathe.”