38

“You think Leanne Shumacker murdered LaRue and Quinn?” Nairo asked as they walked into the office.

It was a question she had been bursting to ask the entire way back from the Shumacker Estate. But they had been waylaid by constant traffic and stops at the police station and the coroner’s office to collect files on Shumacker’s previous mistresses. The entire time Ridley had been sitting, hunched over in his coat, chewing on something fiercely. All in all, Nairo had waited almost four hours to finally ask him.

“Dunno,” he said bluntly.

“All that brooding and that’s all you’ve come up with?” Nairo snapped in exasperation as she threw the files down.

“Something’s gnawing at me, but I can’t put it together,” Ridley muttered as he poured them a drink.

“Walk me through the madness then.” Nairo threw her coat on to her desk and looked up at him expectantly.

“I didn't get any vibe from her that she was lying,” Ridley said. “And my bullshit meter is spot on, you know this.”

“You’re rarely wrong,” Nairo conceded. "But she was an actress."

“She didn’t seem to have any idea about LaRue or the affair,” Ridley continued.

“Which tracks with what Fred told us,” Nairo said.

“But that’s the thing…” Ridley sipped his rum and lit a smoke. “What kind of wife gets asked if they know anything about a relationship between a gorgeous starlet and her husband and doesn’t ask anymore questions?”

“You expected her to be suspicious that Fred was cheating?”

“Wouldn’t you be? Any wife would be.”

“She must know what Fred is like,” Nairo said. “She knew him before they got married, even got pregnant by him. There’s no way she can’t know about his proclivities.”

“Exactly. Just the mention of Fred and another woman should have set her on edge. But it didn’t. She brushed it off like she couldn’t imagine him cheating.”

“Or she doesn’t care,” Nairo said.

“Or that,” Ridley admitted. “Which also tracks. I didn’t get the impression from Fred that they had a particularly close marriage.”

“But then, why pretend?” Nairo asked.

“Would you admit to a pair of strangers that your husband's cheating openly on you with another, younger woman?”

“That’s fair. Ughh, Schumacker is a real dirtbag!” Nairo said. “Is this his M.O? Find a pretty starlet, knock her up, get her to quit her career, marry her, and then hide her away on his estate?”

“Seems like he has previous for it,” Ridley said. “But Fred Shumacker being a lascivious dirtbag isn’t a crime.”

“It should be,” Nairo muttered, crossing her arms. “What about that butler?”

“You noticed it too?” Ridley asked.

“The scars on his knuckles and face?” Nairo replied. “Or the fact he makes a lousier cup of tea than you?”

“Both. And more. If he’s a real butler, I’ll eat my hat.”

“What do you think? Some sort of bodyguard?”

“Makes more sense,” Ridley said. “But why have him pose as a butler? It's not unusual for rich people to have security. Plus… I dunno he didn't strike me as someone who would jump in front of an arrow for some rich tart.”

“If I had to put gold on it, I’d say he’d be more like to be the one shooting the arrow,” Nairo said.

“Exactly,” Ridley downed his rum and thumped his tumbler down on the table. “But none of that has anything to do with LaRue and Quinn's murders! Leanne Shumacker being in denial about her husband’s extramarital affairs and the creepy butler means nothing right now.” He crossed the room and sat on the window sill, staring broodily out into the darkening street.

"She could have killed LaRue in revenge," Nairo said. "This could just be a crime of passion, after all."

"What, she got the creepy butler to do it?" Ridley scoffed.

"Why not?" Nairo asked.

"Because... well, firstly, she would be the most prolific mass murderer in the history of the Forest if she was killing anyone her husband slept with," Ridley said. "Secondly, crimes of passion are just that: passionate. They're not cold, calculated murders."

"In the first instance," Nairo said. "But if she's known about the affair for months, she could have come up with a plan."

"But why?" Ridley asked. "Why the cover up? Just hire some thug to off her. In fact, just make her disappear. Why leave a body? If she had months to plan, she could have arranged for an accident to happen or for a kidnapping... something. Why leave a body behind and pretend it was an overdose?"

Nairo tutted. That was this whole case in a nutshell. It just didn't make any sense. Every piece of evidence seemed to be working at odds with each other.

"It would really help if we knew how these murders were being done," Nairo said.

"How can we find the killer when we don't even know how they've been killed?" Ridley muttered and went to his favourite spot on the window sill to stare out into the rain.

Nairo yawned and pulled the three files towards her, flipped them open, and began reading.

“Oh wow,” she muttered as her eyes sped across the files.

“What?” Ridley asked after tearing his gaze away from the window.

“Shumacker’s previous mistresses,” Nairo said as she continued to read. “It's just like Manny said, two of them are dead.”

“How?” Ridley asked quickly.

“One by suicide and one from... a mysterious long-term illness that left her bedridden and emaciated.”

“When?”

“Stacey committed suicide eight years ago. Gwen died four years ago.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Nothing that sounds like LaRue’s death?”

“Not really.”

“What about the suicide?”

“Ruled as self-inflicted poisoning. Suspected to be from drinking something called Phosphosate Magania.”

“What’s that?"

“No idea.”

“The other one?”

“Not much here. She fell ill about six years ago and never recovered. She was in a hostel for the last two years of her life before she passed quietly in her sleep. It wasn’t a pleasant death though, all her hair fell out and her teeth rotted.”

“What the hell does that to a person?” Ridley asked.

“No idea."

“Sarge, you’re being real useless today you know that?” Ridley growled.

“I was a police officer, not a coroner!” Nairo snapped at him.

“Then we need to go talk to a coroner,” Ridley said. “Is the Vamp on shift?”

“Drake isn’t working today.”

“‘Coz of the full moon?”

“That’s werewolves… and it’s not even a full moon tonight.”

“It is somewhere.”

Nairo rolled her eyes.

“I can check in the morning if he’s back in.”

“What about the third one… wotshername…”

“Cecilia?”

“Yeah, she’s not dead, is she?” Ridley asked.

“No,” Nairo answered, reading through the file. “Though she’s in the wind. Her last known address was from a year ago. There’s nothing else about her since. No record of employment, no new address, no tax payments, no hospital visits. She’s just disappeared.”

“Interesting,” Ridley said. “I mean, this is all pretty suspicious, ain’t it?”

“Is it?”

“In the last decade, three women Shumacker was sleeping with have died and a fourth has vanished.”

“One committed suicide and the other died of sickness,” Nairo replied. “Hardly suspicious circumstances. And people go missing all the time in this city, it’s surprisingly easy to do.”

“And LaRue?”

“That one is suspicious,” Nairo admitted.

“And what if the other one was just a pair of lazy coppers who didn’t want to look any further into an open and shut suicide? Or an overworked doctor who didn’t have time to dig into a woman’s illness ‘coz he thought she was gonna die anyway?”

“What are you saying, Ridley? That Shumacker is some kind of serial killer? That he dates women and then murders them in elaborate and impractical ways?”

“He’s a rich fuck!” Ridley exploded. “You saw all those weirdos at that orgy! They get into some weird kinky shit. When you've got too much gold and you can buy anything, you start to explore some dark places.”

“I thought we eliminated Shumacker from the investigation?”

“Only because you bought his sad sack crying act.”

“You believed him too!”

“Naa, I still had my suspicions,” Ridley said, waving a hand at her. “Plus, did you notice how conveniently he threw us off the scent with Manny?”

“I don’t know…”

“Aren't these serial killer types are all great liars? Like it’s part of the psycho package.”

“I guess…”

“Shumacker’s the only link between these women. They’ve all wound up dead or missing and probably dead, and he’s the only thing they have in common.”

“They all worked at the Umbry Theatre.”

“Which Shumacker is conveniently the patron of. It’s worth looking into, Sarge.”

Nairo sighed and tapped a finger on the desk as she thought.

“How about we at least try to track down this missing woman?” Ridley said. “If we find her alive, she might have some new info on Shumacker for us. If she’s dead, then that makes four dead women and one very alive and very suspicious Shumacker.”

“Fine. We’ll look for Cecilia.”

“Excellent,” Ridley said, rubbing his hands together. “What was her last known address?”

“Boxgrove Wharf on the Goblin side of the river.”

“Grab yer coat Sarge, we’re on the hunt!”

“More like a wild goose chase,” Nairo sighed, standing up and pulling on her coat.

“You can hunt geese too!” Ridley cried out as he ran out of the office.

*

Cecilia’s home on the wharf turned out to be a four storey boarding house backing onto the river. The surrounding area was busy with the usual frenetic pace of the riverfront, but it was a decidedly unfriendly atmosphere. Nairo and Ridley drew hard looks the moment they stepped out of their cab, and those looks pursued them all the way to the red brick tenement's door. Nairo pulled up her collars and hid away from the drizzling rain and suspicious eyes. Ridley followed her lead, tucking his hands in the pockets and undoubtedly gripping some heavy and metal, just in case. A woman was sitting on the steps to the tenement. She was around middle aged but years had worn on her hard. She wore a faded apron and looked like she had just gotten off work from a long shift of hard graft. She sipped a bottle of beer and blew smoke as they approached the steps.

“‘Fraid you ain’t allowed guests in here, love,” the woman said, eyeing Ridley.

“I’m not a tenant,” Nairo said. “My name’s Sally, and this is Ridley, we’re looking for a former resident by the name of Cecilia Brown. Do you know of her?”

The woman looked at her curiously and then took a deep drag on her smoke.

"Yeah, I know Cissy,” she said, blowing smoke out of her nostrils. “What’s that girl done now? She in trouble again?”

“Not that we know of,” Nairo replied. “We just want to ask her some questions regarding a case we’re working on.”

“Case? You two coppers?” The woman asked, her demeanour hardening as she eyeballed them.

“Do we look like coppers?” Ridley asked, leaning on the brickwork.

The woman thought for a moment, looking him up and down.

“You don’t… she could be.”

“Lady’s got a sharp eye,” Ridley said, smirking at Nairo. “We’re Private Investigators working a possible homicide in the city. We think a former partner of Cecilia’s may have been involved.”

The woman gave a short bark of laughter and then sighed, looking up at the sky.

“Ain’t no trouble that girl wouldn’t get into for a swinging dick.”

“Does Cecilia get in a lot of trouble?” Nairo asked.

“Trouble hounds that girl like a bad smell. Shit, ain’t anyone boarding here that ain’t in trouble in one way or another, most of ‘em to do with men.”

“This is a women’s shelter?” Nairo asked, looking up at the tenement.

“Of a sort,” the woman replied. “Miss Oxley, she owns the place, gives room and board to girls out on their ear or on the run from some bastard.”

“Cecilia was on the run?” Ridley said.

“Not strictly speaking. But she got slung out of her on account of bringing johns back here.”

“Cecili's a prostitute?” Nairo asked.

“When she needs the coin. Cissy could turn a man’s head from down the block, she got work whenever she needed it.”

“Do you know when she was kicked out?” Ridley asked.

“Couple months back.”

“You know where she went from here?”

The woman took a slug of her beer and then looked at Ridley.

“Why would I tell you that? For all I know, you could be the ones hounding the poor girl.”

“Like I said, we just wanna talk.”

“Ain’t no man just wanna talk with Cissy.”

“Well I just want to talk to her,” Nairo said. “She’s not in any trouble, we just want some information on a man she used to date.”

“Which man?”

“His name’s Fred,” Ridley replied.

“Ohh… the rich one.”

“Cecilia spoke about him?” Nairo said.

“All the damn time. Stupid girl had it in her head that he was gonna come back and rescue her and ride off into the Forest to play happy families. Girl will go to her grave still thinking he’s coming back for her.”

“So can you help us out?” Ridley asked. “All we need is an address.”

The woman leaned over the side of the steps and spat.

“I don’t know where she is now. I can tell you though, it’s the end of the month, and she’ll be hurting for coin, so she’ll probably be working the cobbles.”

“You know where?”

“Only one place to sling flesh down here darling, on the docks.”

Ridley nodded and handed the woman a smoke.

“Much appreciated,” he said as he hopped down the steps and flagged a cab.

“Thank you,” Nairo said to the woman.

“You make sure no harm comes to Cissy,” the woman replied. “Life's been cruel enough to that girl.”

“I will.”