9

Morning came, and the rain had retreated to a miserable drizzle. Nairo and Ridley had spent most of the morning camped out in the Preston graveyard under a mausoleum roof waiting. They had long ago run out of coffee, and Nairo’s stomach was already grumbling after their meagre breakfast of stale oatcakes. They were sitting with a clear eyeline of a particular bench by a small pond. Graveyards in the rain were somehow more macabre. Nairo shivered into her trench coat as the wind picked up.

“Guess you weren’t wrong about Quinn not being a morning person,” Nairo said.

“He wasn’t usually sober enough to do anything this early,” Ridley said with a ghost of a smile on his face. “We would be out most nights until sunrise. I don’t think I saw a morning for like three or four years.”

“How did you two meet?”

Ridley shrugged.

“I was just a lost kid doing… things I shouldn’t have been. I got involved with a shady crew boosting anything we could get our grubby hands on. One day, we got involved in a missing persons case Quinn was working on. Turns out we robbed the house of an old lady that had gone missing a week earlier, and Quinn caught us fencing some of her jewellery. How the old bastard managed to track us down, I still don't know." Ridley grinned ruefully at the memory.

"You were a burglar?" Nairo asked. She knew surprisingly little about Ridley's past or anything about his personal life. He seemed to only exist in the present and whatever case he was involved with. Even after six months, she wasn't even sure what his surname was.

"Naa," Ridley said. "Just a little toerag opportunist. But Quinn saw something in me. Dunno what, but he made me an offer. He wouldn't shop me into the coppers if I helped him track down the old lady."

"Did you find her?" Nairo asked, and Ridley shook his head.

"Even so," Ridley said. "Quinn took pity on me and brought me under his wing. Showed me the ropes of being a PI.”

“What exactly is the PI introductory course like?” Nairo said. “How to pick locks and antagonise the law?”

Ridley looked at her and rolled his eyes.

“You know there’s a lot of similarities between being a PI and a copper. You investigate, you make deductions, and you learn to tell if people are lying. Except, you also have to learn how to pick clients and jobs that ain’t gonna get you killed or locked up. And if they are, how to make sure it’s worth your while. Besides, I already knew how to pick locks before I met Quinn.”

“One day you're going to have to tell me who you are,” Nairo said. “And I mean right from the beginning. I want baby pictures and everything.”

Ridley grinned at her wolfishly and then perked up.

“Look!”

A young woman dressed all in black, carrying an almost comically large umbrella, approached the bench. She looked around sheepishly and then made an attempt to wipe the bench. After a few seconds, she sat down.

“Is that Quinn’s client?” Nairo asked.

“Has to be,” Ridley said.

Together, they stood up and walked across the graveyard towards her. The young woman looked up at their approach and seemed like she was readying to run.

“Excuse me,” Nairo said with a warm smile on her face. “Don’t be startled. My name’s Sally Nairo, and this is Ridley. Are you here to meet someone?”

The woman looked them up and down, bit her lip, and then nodded warily. Up close, she was beautiful in a carefully composed way. She had thick lips, accentuated by her choice of bright red lipstick. She had heavy, dark eyes with a bit too much mascara on, and Nairo was sure the perfect little mole next to her nose was drawn on. Her hair was dark brown and tied up under a black beret that matched her black dress, her black coat, black gloves, and her black umbrella. She was young with soft eyes.

“Were you here to meet a PI named Quinn?” Ridley asked.

The woman’s hazel eyes widened at the mention of the PIs name.

“Yes… did he send you? Is everything alright? Did he find something out?” She had a musical voice, a slight lilt to it that marked her as not from Valderia.

“Umm… I don’t know how to tell you this. Nairo began.

“Quinn’s dead,” Ridley said.

“Oh dear.” The woman’s eyes glistened with tears as if on cue. “How? What happened? Was it because of-of me?”

“We’re still investigating the cause of his death,” Nairo said, shooting a look at Ridley.

“We think he was murdered,” Ridley said, ignoring Nairo’s look.

“Oh gosh.” A single tear ran down her cheek.

“Why would he be dead because of you?” Ridley asked.

“Who are you? How did you know I would be here?” The woman responded, fear etched across her beautiful features.

Nairo glared at Ridley. The woman was obviously frightened and, judging by her outfit, in mourning. The direct approach would only frighten her off.

“May I sit?” Nairo asked, and the woman nodded. Nairo wrapped her coat around herself and sat down while Ridley lit a smoke impatiently. “What’s your name?”

“Eliza Hartwell.”

The name sparked a faint memory in Nairo’s mind.

“We’re friends of Quinn. Ridley used to work with him. When we heard he had passed we decided to investigate and we came across this meeting in his paperwork. We didn’t know who he would be meeting or why.”

“What happened to Quinn?” Eliza asked.

“Poisoned,” Ridley said. “We think. But definitely murdered.”

“Is a theory that we’re working with,” Nairo said quickly. “Ms. Hartwell, were you a client of Quinn’s?”

Eliza nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek.

“Oh gosh, all it’s been is death and tears recently. I don’t think I can take anymore of it,” Eliza said, her voice faint.

“Has someone else died, Ms Hartwell?” Nairo asked.

Eliza looked at her and then looked away quickly.

“What was Quinn doing for you?” Ridley said.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Eliza stayed quiet.

“Ms. Hartwell, we don’t mean to pry into your personal affairs, but it would really help us if we were able to piece together Quinn’s final days. It might help us figure out what happened to him.”

“Was Quinn killed because of what you had him doing?” Ridley said with barely contained frustration.

Eliza’s eyes widened again and fresh tears dripped down her cheeks.

“I-I-I… didn’t mean for anything to happen to him,” she croaked. “Quinn was such a nice man. Oh gosh, I couldn’t bear it if I got him killed!” Eliza broke into sobs. Her thin shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands.

Nairo took the chance to glare at Ridley and mime at him to ease off. Ridley tutted and took a couple steps away from them, staring at the pond as he puffed his smoke. Nairo placed a comforting hand on Eliza’s back. After a few moments, the young woman was able to compose herself and speak.

“Quinn was investigating the death of a dear friend of mine. Everyone said she was just another OD, but I knew she wasn’t. Not my Susie. She stopped all that. Went completely clean, and then… and then they found her dead. The police wrote it off as a Burn overdose, and they wouldn’t even listen to me! I told them she didn’t touch the stuff! She never had! But they wouldn’t listen.”

Ridley’s head twitched, and he made eye contact with Nairo. He didn’t need to say a word, she could see it in his eyes, it sounded all too familiar.

“Who was your friend?” Nairo asked. “What was her name?”

“Susan Delaney… well you probably know her by her stage name, Lana LaRue.”

“The starlet?”

“Yes, that’s right.

“You’re Eliza Hartwell the singer!” Nairo said, realising finally where she recognised her from. “You perform all across the East End! I’ve seen your posters.”

Eliza gave her a small, well practiced, self deprecating smile.

“Yes, that's me.”

“Quinn was investigating LaRue’s OD?” Ridley said.

“It wasn’t an OD,” Eliza replied firmly.

“You think it was a murder?” Nairo asked her.

Eliza swallowed and looked away.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt Susie, she was such a sweet girl. She never hurt anyone, she wouldn’t even speak ill of people, she was…” Eliza’s voice became strangled and she fought back tears.

“And Quinn was investigating, on your behalf, to find out if someone had killed her?” Nairo clarified, and Eliza nodded.

“I told him everything, and he said that he would look into it.”

“When was the last time you saw Quinn?”

“The day after she passed. So two days ago.”

“Did Quinn say anything when you came to him?” Ridley asked. “Did he believe you that your friend hadn’t overdosed?”

Eliza looked up at Ridley quizzically.

“I didn’t come to Quinn,” she said. “He found me. He believed me straight away. He was the one who suggested that there had been foul play. I thought maybe it had been an accident. Maybe she had taken something and not realised what it was, but Quinn was adamant that someone had done something to Susie.”

Nairo and Ridley shared a significant look.

“Quinn came to you,” Ridley repeated.

“Yes. He came to the theatre the next morning. He explained who he was, and then he started asking lots of questions.”

“What kind of questions?” Nairo asked, her notebook in her hands.

“Oh… umm… he was asking if Susie was worried at all before she died or was she acting strangely. And he was really interested in her new beau.”

“Her what?” Ridley said.

“Her boyfriend, although from what Susie said it was more serious than that.”

“Why was he asking about him?” Nairo asked.

“Because…” Eliza’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s an Owner.”

“What? Like a real one?” Ridley said.

“Well, on the further out branches of the family tree, but yes, a real Owner.”

“What’s his name?”

Eliza hesitated.

“If I tell you all of this, will you… can you… find out what happened to Susie? You worked with Quinn, right? So you’re an investigator too?”

“We are, yes.” Nairo said.

“Then please, I’ll tell you everything I told Quinn, just find out what happened to Susie. If someone did hurt her… then they need to face justice. Will you do that?”

“We will,” Ridley said firmly.

“Thank you.” Eliza dried her eyes on the hem of her gloves. “His name is Friedrich Shumacker. He’s quite a bit older and notorious around Valderia as a playboy. He’s been shacked up with some of the most beautiful women over the years, even though he’s married. He’d been seeing Susie for maybe six months. They were so sweet together, you know? It was like real love. She adored him. She was so young and inexperienced, but Fred, that’s what he prefers to be called, was so good to her. He really did love her. Susie was even planning to leave the stage for him.”

“I thought she was the next big up and coming star?” Nairo said.

“She was. They were gearing up to push her to the moon and make her the face of every stage in Valderia. But Susie was a simple girl. All the fame was always just a bit too much for her. She wanted a quiet life. She wanted to have Fred’s babies and settle down somewhere far from the smoke of the city. Her head was full of baby clothes and stars. She was always a dreamer, that girl.”

“But you said this Fred was married?” Nairo said. “How could she have settled down and started a family with him?”

“He’s an Owner, he does what he wants. You think his wife, sitting back at home with his baby, didn’t know about his philandering? Everyone knew. Fred has… a big appetite, and he satisfies it with gusto. Everyone in the showbiz circuit knows about Fred.” Eliza spoke like she had intimate knowledge of Fred’s appetites.

“And did Lana… Susie ever say anything to you about any violence between them?” Nairo asked.

“Oh gosh no!” Eliza laughed. “Fred’s a teddy bear. He’s more likely to hurt himself than someone else.”

“Did Susie ever say anything about being worried or afraid of anyone? Could you think of a person that might want to harm her?”

Eliza chewed her lip.

“She was worried, yes. She thought that someone was stalking her.”

“Stalking her?”

“Yes. She swore she was being followed and that someone had been in her flat,” Eliza said.

“How recent was this?”

“Only a week or so before her death. She was so frightened the poor thing, she never wanted to be alone. She swore she had seen a figure outside her window one night. But Susie was liable to imagine things like that. She was an actress, they’re all a little high strung.”

Nairo noted all this down.

“And you said that she didn’t take drugs?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

“Well… of course she partied like any of us, but never Burn! You know just the fun stuff. But even that she quit. Gosh, I couldn’t even get her to have a drink at brunch the day before… before she passed. She was serious about cleaning her act up and being a good wife to Fred. She was totally sober before… it happened.”

“You got a way we can contact this Fred character?” Ridley asked.

“Why do you want to talk to Fred?” Eliza asked.

“In cases like this where there is no obvious suspect, we have to start eliminating people from our enquiries,” Nairo said gently. “And Fred would most likely have been one of the last people to see Susie alive. It would really help us if we could speak to him.”

“He’s an Owner,” Eliza said. “You don’t just get to walk up to him and start asking questions. I don’t even know where he lives or anything.” Eliza chewed her lip thoughtfully. “There’s a memorial show for Susie tonight at the Umbry Theatre. Everyone is going to be there, and I’m sure Fred will be too. You could come to that. All of Susie’s friends will be there, if you wanted to find more information that would be the best chance you would have. I could get you in.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hartwell,” Nairo said.

“Please, just find out what happened to Susie. I can’t bear anymore deaths.”

“Don’t worry, we will.” Ridley said.

Eliza thanked them and collected herself before leaving. Ridley watched her go, puffing on his smoke.

“Married older man running around with a young starlet who’s got big dreams of settling down and starting a family with him while he’s got a wife and kid at home? Could be Fred didn’t have such long-term plans for Susie.” Ridley said.

“In cases like this, it’s most often the partner that did it,” Nairo said.

“Could be she threatened to tell his wife, and he had her clipped. But how does killing Quinn fit into it?”

“I’m starting to think you’re right,” Nairo said.

“What?”

“I think Quinn stumbled on something, and he was silenced. The two deaths sound too similar and happened too close together to just be coincidences. Two individuals, both dying of ODs despite the people closest to them swearing neither touched the stuff, and there's also a prior connection between them? That's too many dots not to consider they join somehow. And now there’s Owners involved? Someone like that would definitely have the gold and the connections to make a problem just disappear.”

Ridley flicked his smoke into the pond.

“Owner or not, if he killed Quinn, I’ll watch him burn.”