Rapture: The Big Daddy

by Dustin Brubaker

  “Honey, can we afford something like that?” Clara asked me.

  “Yes, we can.” It would be almost all of our savings, but it was worth it. Anything was worth it. I squeezed her hand before returning my attention to Ambrose. “Then what about until then? Until the officers are deployed tomorrow?”

  The man shrugged. “To be honest, we’re quite swamped right now. If I had the extra men to put on this case, I’d assign them in a heartbeat, for a small additional fee. But we simply don’t have the manpower.”

  ***

  Clara and I left the station ten grand poorer and no less worried.

  “I’m going to keep looking,” I told her as we reached the train station. I couldn’t go home yet. Not without Maddie.

  We parted ways there. Clara said she’d check with Maddie’s teachers and classmates to see if she could get any info. I headed back to Fontaine’s Department Store to look for clues. Hours later, I left with nothing. Too discouraged to return to Athena’s Glory, I instead headed to Ticks. I opened the front door, but left all the lights off and didn’t set out any of my wares. I wasn’t here to sell.

  All I could think about was how I’d last seen Maddie. She’d seen me off to work with a kiss in the morning. Said goodbye as I headed out the front door. She was so excited for a presentation she was going to give in her class. She’d spent the night before reciting it forwards and back. The thought of never seeing her precious face again… My body shook at the notion. A tumult of emotions I didn’t have the strength to face.

  For what seemed like hours, I just sat at the stool behind my counter in darkness, deep in thought. Perhaps I should be with Clara right now, but I couldn’t bear the thought. I couldn’t go back without our little girl.

  My thoughts were disrupted as I heard the bell above my front door ring. Damn. I’d forgotten to lock it after I’d come in. I started to tell whoever it was to go away before I even raised my head.

  It was Lionel.

  He gave me a wary look, stepping slowly in the shop.

  “What’s going on here, Arthur? Lose at the slots down at Sir Prize again?” he asked, a forced smile on his face.

  I just shook my head. I didn’t have the heart to tell him to get lost, though I should’ve. “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood for chitchat today.”

  His face fell, but he nodded as he stopped a few feet off from the counter. “Trouble with the missus, then?” He took my silence as agreement and glanced around the shop. “I’m sure a few sales’ll get your spirits back up. Why’re you still closed? It’s peak hours.”

  “My little girl disappeared, Lionel,” I said, unintentionally in almost a whisper. His mouth fell open in shock. “She went missing yesterday. No one’s seen her since. Clara and I have looked everywhere. I’m afraid... I’m afraid someone’s taken her.”

  “Aw, jeez, I’m sorry… That’s awful.” He looked regretful he’d even approached me. “I’m sure she’s fine. It’s not like she coulda gone far. I’m sure they’ll find her soon.”

  “The police won’t even start looking until tomorrow.”

  He sifted air through his teeth and lent a sympathetic nod. “That’s capitalism for ya.”

  Not the words I wanted to hear. They almost made it sound like I’d asked for this.

  “Does this kind of thing happen a lot down here?” I asked him. “Kids going missing?” I’d heard of it every now and then over the past three years, but nothing ever came of it. I always assumed the cases were resolved. That the children found their way home.

  Lionel could only offer a shrug. “I guess ya hear about it from time to time, but that’s no different from on the surface, right?”

  “Was anyone ever caught? Did they ever identify any suspects?”

  “I wouldn’t know about details like that.”

  That I knew, but I had to ask anyway. Just to be sure.

  “So you’re convinced she didn’t just run away on her own? Kids do that, ya know.”

  “Not Maddie.”

  He nodded solemnly. “I know it’s not my place to say seeing as I only met her a couple of times, but I have to say I agree with ya on that. She certainly doesn’t seem the type.” He braced his elbow against the counter, dipping his head lower. “If you’re really thinkin’ something nefarious might’ve happened, then perhaps there’s a certain gentleman you should pay a visit to,” he said quietly, as if afraid of others overhearing, even though we were the only two in the shop.

  “Who? You know people like that?”

  “Wait, wait. Now I don’t know him personally, but certainly three-quarters of Rapture knows of him,” he said quickly, standing straighter. “Name is Peach Wilkins. Let’s just say he makes his living doin’ things that would make Andrew Ryan’s head spin. But my point is this: this man Wilkins has got a reputation, you see? One for havin’ things he got no business havin’. Just the other day I saw him smokin’ down at Fighting McDonagh’s. Smokin’ real tobacco. So I wondered, where’d he get his grubby little hands on that? Rapture ain’t seen the likes of real tobacco since… ever. Never were able to figure out how to make that stuff grow without soil.” His wandering gaze returned to me. “Now I’m not sayin’ he had no part in anything. But he certainly knows what’s goin’ on in the shadier side of Rapture.”

  Before I had a chance to think over everything he’d said, the phone rang. With lightning fast reflexes, I reached over my counter and snatched the receiver off the cradle, immediately bringing it up to my mouth.

  “Hello? Maddie?” was my breathless greeting.

  There was silence on the other end, and then Clara’s voice.

  “It’s just me, Arthur,” she said, her words trembling. “You’ve been gone so long. I had a feeling you were at the shop.”

  “It’s not open. I’m just… I needed somewhere to think.”

  “I understand.”

  I waited a moment. She didn’t continue. “What’s wrong?” I glanced at Lionel. He gave an understanding nod and headed towards the door. “Did -- Has Maddie… ?”

  “No, there’s still no sign of her,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just got a call from the police department. They said they won’t be able to dispatch officers until tomorrow night.”

  “Why? But we paid them!”

  “I know. I guess, something else has come up. That’s what they said, at least. They’re being paid two or three times that to investigate something else tonight. The whole department was practically rented out. They said there’s nothing they can do about it. It’s just… business.”

  “Like hell there’s nothing they can do! What could possibly be more important than a missing child?”

  “I asked. They wouldn’t say.”

  My blood boiled at the thought. This dream of mine -- this free market wonderland -- was becoming my own personal hell. “Have you talked with the school yet? What’d they have to say?”

  “Not much. They said if Maddie doesn’t return by the end of the week, they’ll be giving her spot to another child,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’ve been talking with her friends and the other mothers. No one’s seen her or heard from her at all. The other girls couldn’t think of any places she might’ve gone.”

  “I haven’t had any luck, either,” I said. “I feel like I’ve looked everywhere. Twice. No one’s seen anything.”

  “Where could be possibly be? I’m starting to fear the worst, Arthur.”

  “No, honey, don’t. We’ll find her. I promise we’ll find her, safe and sound. I’m not coming home until she’s found. Don’t worry about what the cops are doing. I’ll find her myself.”

  ***

  Fish for Fortune at Neptune’s Bounty read the plaque with a pelican and fish depicted on it in the terminal that led from the bathysphere station to what some called Port Neptune. Its official name was Neptune’s Bounty.

  It was where the bar known as Fighting McDonagh’s was located, and hopefully, where I would get answers from this Pe
ach Wilkins character.

  Neptune’s Bounty’s docks and floor were busy with early-evening practices. Bringing in fishing subs and hauling out the day’s catch. I wove my way through the massive complex labeled the Lower Wharf, on the lookout for McDonagh’s sign.

  Lionel had left without telling me what Peach looked like, so all I could do was go to the bar and ask around there. I wasn’t sure what kind of place it was, but judging by the gruff and worn look of the dockworkers, I might stick out a little.

  My presence went unnoticed or ignored for the most part as I found my way to a large set of stairs with a sign that read “To Upper Wharf.” With no sign of the bar in sight, I took them. A red and white neon sign depicting a ship anchor told me I was in the right place. Below it was an open gate, beside which another bronze plaque hung, labeling the area as Pier 4. I stepped through the gate, past the stacks of cargo and length of thick rope that cluttered the floor.

  Soon enough, the Fighting McDonagh’s Tavern easily made itself known. It was the tallest building in the whole of Neptune’s Bounty. A small staircase led up to its front door, which was dwarfed by the image of a large rooster-headed man with his hands raised, as if about to box. I could hear the shouts and cheers from inside before I even reached the door.

  The tavern was packed, and as the door closed behind me, I found myself with little room to move. The interior was smaller than it looked, and much of that room was taken up by an actual boxing ring. Onlookers roared and whistled as two men went at it in the ring. Despite all the alcohol getting sloshed around with the ruckus, the place smelled like fish through and through.

  Pushing through the crowd, passing by a set of shark jaws mounted on the wall, I made it to the surprisingly small bar, where several patrons -- including the bartender -- were also watching the fight. I took the lone empty stool and ordered a drink. This didn’t look the kind of place where you could just waltz in and ask for info.

  A scotch and two rounds in the ring later, the atmosphere changed. The two haggard men in the ring stepped down and talk was buzzing about the participants in the next match. Bets were placed. The bartender addressed me for the first time.

  “Ain’t never seen your face around here before. What brings ya?” he asked as he poured a beer for the gentleman sitting beside me.

  I paused mid-sip. I couldn’t stand waiting any longer, beating around the bush. “I’m looking for someone, actually. A gentleman by the name of Peach Wilkins. I hear he comes here.” The last part was a lie. Lionel hadn’t said anything about this being a frequent haunt of Peach’s, but it was all I had to go on.

  The bartender nodded, eyes closing slightly. He said something to the man next to me as he slid him his beer, and then his gaze turned to me. “Ya wanna see Peach, you say? And what business might you be wantin’ with him?”

  I shrugged, holding my near empty glass near my chin. “I’ve just got a few questions for him.”

  He nodded, snorting. “So Ryan’s sending plainclothes in now, is he? That sure ain’t his style.”

  Shit. “No, no,” I said quickly. “I’m not a cop or anything like that.”

  “Right, right.” The look he gave me was skeptical as he poured more drinks. “Even if you were, you’d be shit outta luck, messing with a guy like Peach.” He laughed at the thought, then nodded his head towards an alcove at the side of the room. “You’ll find your answers over there. The one who looks like he’s taken a few too many punches.”

  I’d overlooked the alcove at first, but now, from this angle, I could see that it was more of a hallway. Probably led to a more private area.

  “Thanks.” I finished off my drink and counted out my bill, plus an extra ten. That was almost all I had on me at the moment. The rest had gone to covering those few spare dollars we couldn’t scrape up for Poppadopolis.

  “Come again,” the bartender said with a grin as he scooped up the money and empty glass. He started to whistle as I left the counter and made my way across the room.

  Another match had started, and the raucous atmosphere had returned.

  Sure enough, the little offshoot led to a private room. The diamond wallpaper was alternating shades of beige and baby food green. A small card table was set up in the back of the room. Three men sat at it. And they all noticed me at the very same moment. Three sets of eyes boring into me like I’d just stepped into a lion’s den.

  It was impossible to tell which one was Peach. They all looked pretty rough. The one sitting on the right side of the table stood quickly, knocking the chips and cards all across the felt surface.

  “Take a wrong turn, did you?” he asked, wiping his nose.

  “Lookit what you did, Sammy, now all the chips and shit are mixed up,” the man on the left said, scowling as he threw down the two cards he was holding. “And I had a fucking good hand, too!”

  “What do you want, you dandy?” the third man sitting at the table’s center asked, staring at me with steely cold eyes. He cocked his head to the side, and the lone overhead light highlighted the bend in his nose. His face looked worn. Deep creases ran from his nose to his mouth, and his wispy hair shot off in tufts over his half-bald head.

  “I’m here to talk to Peach Wilkins,” I replied. “I’m not a cop or anything. I’m just trying to get some answers about something, and I heard Peach might know.”

  “Yeah? And why’s that?” the man with the crooked nose asked.

  The standing man spat. “You really think you can just waltz in here with your fancy clothes and -- ”

  “It’s my kid. My kid’s gone missing, and I heard you might know something about it. Or about the other times it’s happened, at least,” I said quickly, wary of the man on the right as he neared.

  “Stand down, Sammy G. Ol’ Peach has got a customer, it looks like,” the man with the bent nose said. Peach said. “How about you and Tommy go get me another beer while I talk to this gentleman?”

  It wasn’t a question. The men flanking him immediately hopped to it, brushing past me, one of them knocking into my shoulder. Once they were gone, Peach indicated the seat to his right.

  “You got two minutes ‘til they come back, and then I’m done listening.” He gathered up the strewn cards and started shuffling them. “You say your little girl went missing? How old? Six or seven, I’m guessing.”

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s a story I’ve heard before, kid. A story everyone’s heard before.”

  “I’ve lived here three years and I never heard anything about it,” I said, confused.

  “That’s ‘cause you live on the wrong side of Rapture. Or the right side, rather. Usually this sorta thing happens to people… of a lower class,” he explained, tossing the deck of cards onto the table. “Now you mind telling me why in the hell you think I got anything to do with this? Do I look like the ‘napping type?”

  “That’s not it. I was told you might have information. That’s all.”

  “Yeah? Information about what? It’s not like I know anything more than you do, kid. Little girls go missing down here every now and then. Been happening for a few years now. Cases never get solved. Even the papers know that much. Maybe you been reading the wrong papers.”

  “Only girls?”

  He nodded. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

  I felt sick. “How could this be going on for so long?”

  He gave a high-pitched laugh. More like a cackle. “You forgetting where we are, boy. This is Rapture. Ryan’s playground. Built on freedom of everything. You really think he’d go out of his way to lock up some deviant when he ain’t even cracking down on splicing? You say you’ve been here three years, but I don’t believe it.” He snorted in disgust as his two card buddies returned. “Looks like your time’s up.”

  “Wait. Don’t you know anything that -- ”

  “Didn’t ya hear him? Boss says time’s up,” one of the men said as he grabbed me by the shoulder and knocked me from the chair. I stumbled but caught myse
lf as he reeled back for a punch. Dodging his fist as it flew towards my face, my right hand made contact with the left side of his jaw. He stumbled back into the table.

  The other man slammed the drinks onto the table. “You don’t know who you’re messing with, ya fucking dandy!”

  “We got a game here to finish, Sammy G,” Peach said, seemingly unperturbed by the commotion. I wiped off the blood that seeped through the cracked skin along my knuckles as the one I’d punched staggered to his feet. “You might want to pay a visit to Madame Fiona,” Peach said as he looked at me, paying the man no mind. “She and her little crystal ball might be able to help you out.”

  I turned on my heel to leave.

  “Wait,” Peach called out.

  I looked at him from over my shoulder.

  “Now how about a little gratuity?” he said with a crooked grin.

  Taking the last of the bills from my wallet, I tossed them towards him.

  He watched with a smile as Sammy G rushed to collect them.

  ***

  Madame Fiona’s was a small sliver of a building wedged along the boardwalk of High Street. I’d never given it a second look, but I had heard her name before. Sometimes from Clara, when she was talking about her friends, but usually from the daily paper. Madame Fiona ran a horoscope column in the Rapture Tribune. Rapture’s Premier Fortune Teller she called herself. My guess is she was the only fortune teller.

  Apparently it was a slow day, because once I dealt with the receptionist, I was ushered right up to Madame Fiona’s room. It was everything I’d expected. Gypsy-like, with pillows and curtains everywhere in ugly shades. Noxious incense filled the air. A thin dark-skinned woman with black hair sat cross-legged on a pillow as she hunched over a literal crystal ball.

  I was getting the feeling Peach had pulled my leg.

  “You are here for an urgent matter,” this woman -- Madame Fiona, I’m guessing -- said in a lilting voice, not looking up from her ball. The room was dark, but the ball seemed to be glowing as she circled her hands around it.