Carl walked through the blighted back alley. On either side were derelict factories, abandoned by investors who had lost the cutthroat game called land speculation.
He approached a wagon with his hands in his pockets, whistling as he did so.
There were two men there, one watching from the carriage’s seat as the other leaned against the back of it.
“Oi!” one of them called. “What do you want?”
“Just going for a walk, friend,” Carl replied, flashing him a smile. “Getting a little bit of fresh air is all.”
“Funny place to be doing that,” the second thug said.
“I’m a funny individual,” Carl replied. “The uh… scenery reminds me of home.”
The thug snorted. “You sure do look awfully funny, ma’am.”
That one word made Carl’s eye twitched. But otherwise, he tried not to let it show.
The first thug nodded towards him. “There’s a park a couple blocks east of here. It’ll probably get you away from the miasma.”
“Dumb ass,” the second guy said. “Everyone knows that miasma doesn’t exist.”
“Like I’m going to…” The first started.
Carl cleared his throat and both of them looked at him.
“What’s in the wagon?” he asked.
“None of your business,” one of the thugs answered.
An apt answer and the only one Carl thought he was likely to get without some incentivizing. But the question was rhetorical, he already knew what was inside.
“I’m in the employment of a Countess Luna,” Carl said. “Have you heard of her?”
The two thugs looked at each other and shook their heads.
“Well, I’m not entirely surprised. I’m pretty sure it’s an alias,” Carl explained, flashing a smile. “The point is, she’s tasked me with ensuring the safety of all the girls of the night in London. Which…” He drew forth his cigarette tin. “As you’d imagine isn’t a particularly easy job.”
“Interesting story, darling,” one of the thugs said, pushing off of the wagon and approaching him. “But what exactly does that have to do with our wagon?”
Carl smirked. “Well as I understand it, you are in the employ of Lord Baldwin?”
“Maybe we are,” the thug said, now getting right in Carl’s face. “But maybe we aren’t? What is it to you?”
As the thug drew near, Carl wrinkled his nose. There was an unwashed and filthy smell wafting off of him. He was easily a head-and-a-half taller than him and maybe even an extra fifty pounds.
“And if you are in the employ of Lord Baldwin, I know exactly what’s inside of that wagon and where it’s going,” Carl answered.
He popped open the cigarette tin and placed one between his lips.
Virginia tobacco: the good shit from back home.
As the thug scowled at him, he lit the tip with a lucifer, tossing it on the ground. Finally, he allowed himself a drag, blowing it off to the side.
“Maybe it's best that you shove your nose somewhere else, Miss…” the thug started.
“Carl,” he replied. “You can call me Carl.”
“Miss Carl,” the thug finished.
Carl smirked. “Unfortunately, my employer would be rather displeased if I allowed that to happen.” He shook his head. “I’ve learned that getting on an English Lady’s bad side is not somewhere that I wish to be.”
There was a tick, a moment of impasse, where neither party knew what the next move was going to be.
Carl slipped his hands back into his pockets, feeling a familiar brass weapon rub against both of his knuckles. He stuck his fingers through them, waiting, seeing what his opponent would do.
The thug drew his left arm back, telegraphing his swing nicely. Within a split second, Carl’s hands were out of his pocket and his left elbow was in the way of intercepting the blow. It landed, heavy, but the elbow took the brunt of the force nicely.
It was now his turn to react as he aimed a fist into the gentleman’s ribs. Bone cracked under the blow and the man stumbled back, hollering in pain.
The first jab was followed up by a second, right to the thug’s defenseless nose. It too, crunched nicely and the first gentleman was out for the count.
The second clambered off of the carriage. He scowled at Carl and thudded a lead club against his bare hand, trying his darndest to look intimidating.
Carl sighed and motioned to the other thug who was currently quivering on the ground. “Really?”
“Really,” the thug answered.
Carl rushed him, sprinting towards him as fast as his leg would carry him. Sadly, his cigarette did not survive, as it was ripped from his mouth and landed upon the filthy ground.
The man took a swing with the club but Carl ducked under it, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow to the skull.
He aimed his fist for the man’s crotch, landing a nice meaty punch.
The man roared in utterly agony, nearly lifted off of the ground from the impact of the blow. His club slipped from his fingers, thudding against the ground a mere second before his knees sunk to it. He clutched at his crotch, falling onto his side.
Carl smirked but left him in such a state. They would have to have a conversation once this was over.
He approached the carriage and saw that a simple metal rod kept the cabin jammed shut. It didn’t take much to pull it out and throw open the door.
Inside were four women. Two looked dazed, one was unconscious, and the fourth was wide awake, her gaze panicked as she saw Carl.
“Ladies,” Carl greeted. “I hope everyone is doing okay.”
The one coherent woman nodded slowly. “Who are you?”
“I am…” Carl smirked. “A concerned citizen.”
“A concerned citizen?” the woman asked. “What’s… what’s that?”
A carriage approached the front of the Hilltop Hotel, coming to a stop before it. This was not a particularly well to do neighbourhood and the sight of such a classy vehicle, with a proper driver, caught the attention of many.
They stared at Carl as he opened the door and stepped inside.
He took a seat, opposite of the carriage’s only other passenger. She was a middle-aged woman with a darker skin tone that revealed that she was from the subcontinent. She wore clothing made of a fine material and jewelry that would’ve glimmered if it wasn’t so dark inside.
“How did today go?” she asked, staring out the window as the carriage started moving.
Carl smiled. “The best it could’ve, Countess. Kicked ass and saved the girls.”
Countess Luna looked at him. “A regular Robin Hood you’ve turned out to be, Carl.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Carl said. “Unfortunately, they only had hired muscle there. Didn’t know shit about the bigger operation.”
“I see.” Luna sighed. “That is a shame but at least you spared those girls from ending up at Lord Baldwin’s estate.”
“Do you think he’s…” Carl started.
Luna shook her head. “No, he’s a cruel and evil man but he is not the cruel and evil that makes the front page. He likes to hide his work. Which honestly makes him so much worse.”
“Shame I can’t just storm his estate,” Carl said.
“Unfortunately, he has connections that would make such an endeavour futile.” Luna grabbed a bag, reaching into it. “You are a man of many talents, Carl, but even you have your limitations. You leave the duty of exposing him to me and I will leave breaking up his London operations to you.”
The carriage hit a bump but continued along.
“How goes assembling your team?” Luna asked.
Carl frowned. “Plenty of people willing to take your money. Harder to find people who would be loyal beyond it. Did put out a feeler to this girl though.”
“A girl?” Luna asked.
Carl nodded. “Sister of the latest victim. She gave me a good vibe.”
“Well, I’ve learned to trust your vibes,” Luna said. “Though if others are only motivated by currency…”
She finally found what she was looking for, producing a plain envelope and handing it to Carl.
Carl took it and cracked open the seal. Inside was a thin but substantial number of banknotes. A small fortune.
“I do apologize for distracting you from the monster on the front pages,” Luna explained. “But until you can find more help, I’m afraid I must allocate my resources as I see fit.”
“I completely understand,” Carl said.
Luna reached back into her bag and grabbed a small slip of paper. She handed this to Carl, as well.
On it were a few items, ordered from most important to least important. Most were related to Baldwin but there were a couple that targeted familiar, but less important, scumbags.
“This week’s assignments,” Luna explained. “Get them finished, then continue on assembling a team and hunting down you know who.”
Carl nodded. “Of course, Countess.”
The carriage came to a stop and as Carl looked out the window, he saw that they were back outside of the Hilltop Hotel.
“Any questions?” Luna asked.
Carl smirked. “Can I bring my gun this time around?”
“Americans and their guns,” Luna murmured, shaking her head. “I’d prefer if you only used it in an emergency. Last thing I need is you getting arrested by the actual police for brandishing one of those hand cannons.”
“Not a crime for a gentleman to be armed,” Carl muttered.
Luna snorted. “No but you have a way of making people jumpy. And jumpy police officers are less likely to care about what is and isn’t the law.”
“Couldn’t imagine why,” Carl said.
The two of them looked at each other.
“Anything else?” he asked.
Luna smiled
“Thank you for the hard work,” she said. “You’ve been an extremely beneficial asset for advancing our cause.”
Her moans punctuated the air as Carl’s tongue roved around inside of her. The sound of her pleasure was like music, finer than any he’d heard in his life.
She panted loudly as he drove her closer and closer to his objective.
Carl refused to let up. He went harder and more forceful, easing her along for those final few seconds.
Until finally, she cried out, gracing his ears with his name. That was the best note of them all, causing him to grin like an idiot as he drank from her pleasure.
“Fuck,” she whispered, thumping against the sheets. “Not bad, Carl.”
He drew back, wiping as his lips. “Thought you deserved something a little extra tonight.”
His lips graced her belly, his chin resting within the wild tuft of red hair that coloured her pelvis. He kissed her again and again, trailing his way up along her pale body. Each little peck was marked with a small sigh of relief from her, a pleasured chirp which made him smile.
It took a few moments, but he eventually reached her breasts, taking one of her nipples between his lips and suckling softly.
His hand went between her legs, once again, rubbing at her so recently pleasured sex.
“Carl,” she moaned.
He smirked. “Yes, Vicky?”
“I thought…” She quivered so delightfully under his touch. “I thought I was supposed to… get you off!”
“And you will in due time,” Carl whispered.
His journey higher continued, travelling along her chest and collarbone until his lips were near her own. He looked at her and smiled, planting a tender little kiss against her chin.
“You’re adorable,” he whispered.
Carl pressed his fingers into her and her back arched as a hushed note of excitement leaked forth.
He pressed his lips against her own, sharing in a tender note of passion. Though soon it deepened and their mouths parted. Their tongues were hungry and lustful. In that moment, they partook in the original sin, caring little for the consequences.
Carl’s mind was addled and he had no doubt that his companion existed in a similar space.
Just as he was about to pull away, there was a knock at the hotel room’s door.
Carl winced and looked towards it.
“Who is it?” he called.
“Room service, Sir,” an attendant said. “You instructed me to bring up anyone who presented your business card.”
Carl sighed. “Thank you. Could you possibly give us a couple of minutes to uh…”
Thankfully, he didn’t need to finish the sentence.
“Of course, Sir,” the attendant said. “I’ll return with her in a few minutes.”
“Her?” his companion for the evening asked, offering a sly smile. “Have you been seeing other girls, Carl?”
“Strictly for work,” he answered.
Vicky nodded. “Part of that team you’re putting together to hunt down… him?”
Carl got off of her, sighing as he looked down at himself. His body was covered in scratches and bite marks, his abundant arousal was draining along his legs, and he knew for a fact that Vicky’s perfume was potent, covering him in a powerful shroud of flowers and other pleasant scents.
He reached for his trousers, pulling them on. And as he glanced at Vicky, he noticed that she had grabbed her gown.
“Maybe we could pick this up tomorrow?” he suggested.
Vicky smirked. “I always have room in my schedule for you.”
“I’ll bring the wine,” he said, offering a teasing smile.
They dressed quickly with Carl getting into a pair of trousers and a sweater while Vicky pulled on her usual weathered gowned.
She approached and planted a little kiss upon his cheek. “Always a pleasure, Carl.”
“You too,” he replied.
He watched her leave.
Her course towards the door took her over to a table with a small pile of currency upon it. She took it without question, stuffing it into her bag.
And just like that, she was gone.
Carl sighed and made his way towards the window. He pulled back the curtains and saw that it was still the evening and not quite dark yet. Hopefully, Vicky would head straight for her flat and call it night. He hoped that she wouldn’t try to pick up any more clients.
But that’s all he could really do. Hope.
Before he could delve too much into these dark and dreary thoughts, the knock at the door returned.
“Let her in,” he called.
The door opened and a familiar woman entered. She was dressed in a gown that was very similar to the one Vicky owned. Her skin was pale and her hair was a soft brown that was tied back into a tight little bun. Her eyes, as she looked at him, were cold and green.
“Le Blanc,” she greeted, pronouncing the Le as Lee.
“Rebecca,” he replied, motioning to the table in his room. “I’m surprised you decided to come this late.”
“It took me a while to even figure out if I wanted to… investigate this opportunity,” she said as she took a seat
“I don’t really blame you,” he said. “Strange fellow handing you a business card in a back alley.” He smirked. “Can I get you anything to drink? I have gin, water, and lime.”
“Just some water,” Rebecca said.
He nodded and produced two glasses, filling them from a decanter. Nice thing about staying in a hotel was not having to worry about finding this stuff himself.
With two glasses in hand, he approached the table. He placed both down and then took a seat across from her.
“So…” he started.
Rebecca nodded. “Why are you interested in me?”
“Well first off, I wanted to ask you a few questions,” Carl said. “You know, about last night.”
Rebecca snorted. “I don’t know what good that will do.”
“Maybe nothing, maybe something,” Carl answered, giving his shoulders a shrug. “But in the long term I was hoping to recruit you to a little project I’ve been working on.”
“Well how about we start with some questions first,” Rebecca said.
Carl nodded and reached into his breast pocket, producing a pad of paper and a pencil. “Do you have any questions for me before we begin?”
“Carl,” Rebecca said, sizing up the word. “That’s a peculiar name for a woman.”
“I mean, being an enforcer is a strange line of work for one as well.” Carl smirked and pointed his pencil at her. “But I liked the name so I took it.”
“What were you called before?” Rebecca asked.
He shrugged. “No idea, it’s been years since I last used it.”
“You can’t remember your name?” Rebecca asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Of course, I can remember it. Like I said, it’s Carl,” he replied, offering a grin. “Trust me you get used to it after a while.”
“And is there a reason you dress like that?” Rebecca asked.
Carl looked down at his shirt, making a show of rolling up the sleeves. “It isn’t as easy breaking someone’s nose while you’re wearing a dress.” He snorted. “But I think we’re getting a little off track here. Don’t you agree?”
“Americans are weird,” Rebecca murmured. She picked up her glass and took a sip. “Alright, what are your questions?”
Carl nodded. “So, Angela was alone at the time of her death?”
“She was,” Rebecca answered, looking quite dark.”
“Did she usually spend the nights alone?” he asked.
Rebecca shook her head. “Not usually. Usually, we’re both home before midnight but…”
“But…” Carl asked.
“I had a client ask me to stay the night. Offered me a bonus on my usual rates that I couldn’t turn down,” Rebecca said. “Angela was sick, you see, and we were running pretty low on money.”
Carl nodded. “Do you usually receive clients who ask for that kind of service?”
Rebecca sighed. “No, they’re extremely rare. This is probably the first one I’ve had one in years. Always a little strange when they want something like that. Seems like a waste of perfectly good money. Just to cuddle with someone.”
Carl held his tongue. Instead, he scribbled away at his pad.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was something. Either way, if it was out of the norm, then it might be important.
“Do you know who this client was?” Carl asked.
Rebecca nodded but held her tongue.
He sighed. “I’m not working with the police, Rebecca. I promise, I won’t share any of this information.”
“I just don’t want him being troubled. He was a perfectly fine gentleman,” Rebecca explained.
“I promise I will not trouble him,” Carl said. “But his behaviour was out of the norm and it’s never a good idea to believe in coincidence when it comes to something like this.”
Rebecca sighed. “Mark Belton. He’s a foreman down at the wharves where all the fish come in.” She frowned. “You don’t honestly think that…”
“Likely he has nothing to do with it,” he said. “And I won’t be roughing him up out of the blue. I’ll just be looking into the name…” He saw the panic in her eyes and held up a reassuring hand. “Discreetly. I will be discreetly looking into him, so he can be cleared of any suspicion.”
Rebecca sighed. “I suppose that’s fair.”
She picked up her glass and took another sip, draining about half of it. Her hand was shaking slightly.
“Was Angela also…” Carl began.
Rebecca nodded. “I mean that’s why he murdered her, right?”
“Right,” Carl agreed, letting out a terse sigh. “Did she have any clients that you knew of that made her uneasy?”
“I mean there were plenty of clients like that,” Rebecca said. “Plenty of drunks and men who would get violent. But… I don’t think this bloke is like that. He seems to be incredibly sober when he does these things.”
Carl nodded solemnly. “It seems that murder is his narcotic of choice.” He frowned. “How about any high-end clients? People who really shouldn’t be looking for girls in your neighbourhood?”
“A couple of doctors and shopkeepers,” Rebecca explained. “But…”
“Doctors?” Carl asked, lifting a brow. “Do you know any of them?”
He scribbled at his pad, writing Doctor and getting ready to draft a list.
“Doctor Robert Brown and Doctor Julian Aarons,” Rebecca answered. “There may have been others but not that I know of.” She blinked. “Do you…”
“Another possibility,” Carl answered. “After all, our man does seem to have a rather… advanced understanding of the human body.”
“That’s a pretty alarming thought,” Rebecca murmured under her breath. “You’d think that if there was anyone you could trust it’d be a doctor.”
“Well, this is just a theory of course,” Carl said. “And I will freely admit that I’m just naturally paranoid.”
“Of course, Mister Le Blanc,” Rebecca said. She shook her head and looked at him. “Was there anything else you wanted to know?”
Carl frowned. “Did anyone hold a grudge against, Angela?”
“I mean plenty of the girls,” Rebecca commented. “Angela had a way of always landing the best clients. Created a bit of resentment between her and a few of our… coworkers.”
“Any that you think would take drastic action against her?” Carl asked.
Rebecca’s brow knitted and she picked the glass back up, draining it.
“Amy might,” she commented. “Amy Roland. My sister snatched a really upscale patron from her. One of those gentlemen who leaves a tip larger than the actual going rate. You know the kind?”
Carl nodded. “I do.”
“Besides that…” Rebecca bit her lip, then promptly shook her head. “No, I can’t imagine any of the other girls really going that far. That man terrifies every single one of us, Mister Le Blanc, and I think Amy is the only one who would stoop low enough to use him like that.”
“Anything else you think could be of value, Rebecca?” Carl asked.
He continued to scribble at his pad of paper, drafting quite the extensive list of subjects he would have to investigate.
Rebecca shook her head. “Not that I can think of.”
There was a lull in the conversation, a pause.
Rebecca bit her lip, giving him another look. “Why don’t you tell me more about this long-term plan you’ve been working on.”
Carl leaned back into his seat and worked his jaw. “I am… trying to put together a team of reliable individuals to help me with my job.”
“Of being a concerned citizen?” Rebecca asked, smirking to herself. “Can’t see how I would be of much use in that regard, in all honesty.”
“You know the streets, you know the girls, and you know who to trust and who to avoid.” Carl smirked. “And most importantly, I think you probably have a good reason to do this besides just making money.” He snorted. “Not that there wouldn’t be money involved just…”
“You want people motivated by more than just a paycheque,” Rebecca commented.
Carl nodded. “My employer has this weird affinity for wanting to keep girls like you safe.”
“So, we’d be protecting ladies of the night?” Rebecca asked. “Seems like a pretty ambitious project you’ve got going on.”
“The Countess is a rather ambitious woman,” Carl commented.
He placed his pencil upon the table and got up, making his way over to his bedside.
Rebecca sighed, getting his attention. “The job certainly does sound interesting but… I don’t really see myself as a cowboy like you.”
“Cowboy?” Carl asked. He shook his head. “I’m from New York, Rebecca. The only cow I’ve ever seen is on a plate.”
He opened the drawer next to his bed and fished out his wallet. With it in hand, he returned to the table.
“Well, I don’t see myself as the adventurous type,” Rebecca commented.
Carl nodded. “I can respect that. Though give it some thought. The job pays well and you honestly wouldn’t be sent into anything unprepared.”
Rebecca frowned, obviously mulling it over.
“I will,” she said. “Does sound like you’ve got quite the chivalrous thing going on here.”
“It keeps me fed,” Carl said. He then held up the bag of currency. “How much do you usually take home on an average night?”
“Three, four shillings,” Rebecca said.
Carl nodded and opened his bag, pulling out eight coins. He placed them on the table.
“Consider this a thank you for the valuable information,” he said, glancing at her. “Do you still have my card?”
“I do,” Rebecca said.
“If you want to take me up on the offer, you know where to find me,” he said. “Oh, and Rebecca?”
“Yes?”
Carl worked his jaw. “Can you… possibly keep the information you shared with me discrete. Even from the police?”
This seemed to catch her off guard. “Why?”
“The detectives are more likely to sell whatever you tell them to the Post than actually use it for anything useful,” he explained. “Would only make the investigation more difficult, if you understand me.”
Rebecca nodded and glanced at the pile of coins. She picked them up, getting to her feet.
“Have yourself a nice day, Mister Le Blanc,” she said.
Carl smirked. “You as well, Rebecca.”
With that, she made her exit, closing the door gently behind herself as she departed.
This left Carl to ponder two things. The first was him trying to determine when she’d made the switch to Mister and why that had happened. The second was that he was now alone with his pad of paper.
He took a seat again, examining it closely. Four names; four vague avenues for him to try and make some sort of connection.
Did he honestly think this would lead anywhere? Not really.
This was a song and dance he knew well. None of these names were from any of the previous interviews he had conducted. People had hunches but hunches seemed to be elusive when it came to the bogeyman haunting London.
But they were all he had to go on.
“Who first,” he whispered, tracing his pencil between the four separate subjects. He snorted to himself and started to tap between them. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…”
And as the little song came to an end.
Amy Roland.
Will be a bit before we see a new chapter but yet again many thanks to my patrons for voting on this project and getting it started!
