The Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay - Volume 1: Gallery of Rogues

by Mike Cervantes

  “Wait! Where are you going?” The Jay caught up to him only to find him standing in the middle of the wreckage with his arms crossed and a relieved smile on his face.

  “Well I’ll be,” The Derby doffed his hat in awe. Standing between the two of them was the, thankfully, still standing teahouse, with only the smallest wisps of coffee vines clung to its outer walls.

  “You might disagree with me, but I happen to think the old tea house actually looks quite a bit better,” The Derby said admirably.

  “Downright Ivy League,” The Jay added.

  O O O

  The next morning, Thaddeus Hedwater and his wife Mary Jane, returned to the Lancashire Tea Shop to meet with their friend Constable Howard O’Gratin, who was surveying the damage caused by the Three-Headed Mob’s mutant plant-based path of destruction.

  “Ah, Constable, I was hoping to run into you. Here you are.” Thaddeus said, thrusting into his hands a large metal atomizer.

  “What’s this, then?” The Constable replied, looking the strange device up and down.

  “It’s a powerful defoliant of my own design,” Thaddeus explained, “that should go a long way in helping you clean up the damage.”

  “Something we were using when dealing with our own unruly gardens last night,” Mary Jane said idly. “Do you think you’ll be starting with this shop, Constable?”

  The Constable shook his head. “No, I believe that the owners actually prefer it this way. They may be re-naming it into the Central Ethiopian Tea House now.”

  “Well, I’m certainly glad they decided to stay in business,” Mary Jane said idly “I can hardly imagine a world where something as pedestrian as coffee is served on every street corner.”

  “Indeed. Well, you once again have The Scarlet Derby to thank,” The Constable affirmed.

  “Eh-eh, actually, I believe that this day was actually won by The Midnight Jay.” Thaddeus added abruptly.

  “Are you certain of that?” The Constable asked, taking a pause to light his pipe.

  I’m certain as if I were there myself,” Thaddeus replied.

  “Oh, well. Should I ever see her again, I will pay her my thanks.” The constable tipped his hat, and returned to his work.

  As the two strolled away Mary Jane turned to Thaddeus and sighed. “You really didn’t have to do that, you know.”

  “Oh but I did,” Thaddeus said drolly, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulder. “After all you identified the plant. You freed us. You bested the nincompoop. You very likely did more in solving this case than I did.”

  Mary Jane put her head on his shoulder. “I suppose you’re right.”

  After a moment of silence, Thaddeus added “After all, I can’t blame you for being jealous.”

  Mary Jane shot up and scoffed “I wouldn’t exactly say I was jealous.”

  “Well, what would you call it then?”

  “I’d call it off, dear, before you say something you regret.”

  “Like that you were jealous?”

  Mary Jane gave an anguished groan. The rest of the walk home was utterly silent

  The Tin Tuna

  It all began one day in the basement of the home of Thaddeus Hedwater and his wife Mary Jane, the secret base of operations for London’s stalwart defenders, The Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay. There, the two heroes were engaged in a bit of fencing. The Derby held his weapon of choice, his cane, against that of his wife’s, an umbrella, in a duel purely designed for training purposes.

  “Dodge, parry, dodge, dodge,” The Derby announced every single move in the fencing sequence out loud, “thrust, dodge, thrust, parry, dod-OOF!” His last dodge was cut short when The Jay swung her umbrella in a circular motion, striking The Derby on the side of the head. She succeeded in knocking The Derby’s hat clean off and the rest of his person on the floor directly at her feet.

  “Sorry dear, that was a parry,” The Jay said drolly as she held the hook end of her umbrella. The Derby shook his head, scaring away the stars and birdies that were swimming around, and grabbed The Jay’s weapon to climb back on to his feet. “Do you always have to hit so hard when we’re sparring?”

  “If I don’t, you’ll never learn anything,” The Jay grinned in a way that raised goosebumps on The Derby’s shoulders and neck.

  “I don’t think I’m learning anything now,” The Derby countered. “How many of these fencing sequences did you say you had memorized?”

  “Exactly one-hundred and twenty-six,” The Jay gave a sincere nod. “And you?”

  “Well, counting this one?”

  The Jay shook her head. “I wouldn’t count this one. Really, I’m surprised that you’ve done so little work on this. When I committed to being a hero, fencing was one of the very first things I ever worked on.”

  “I have other heroic qualities.” The Derby said staunchly as he walked to retrieve his hat from the floor. “For example, I am a deductive genius.” The Derby beamed with pride as he said it.

  “That is simple enough to do with the use of the Crime Alert Monitor.” The Jay dismissed.

  “I’m also a brilliant scientist,” The Derby added, a bit of unease creeping in his voice.

  “Just as long as that science is chemistry and chemistry alone,” The Jay retorted.

  “Well,” The Derby paused for a moment in hesitation “I’m always one step ahead of that Silas Monstrosity.”

  “Yes, if you weren’t lucky enough that accidental application of yeast to his nitroglycerin bomb actually worked, then we could have been killed.”

  The Derby gave an agitated sigh. “Do you have the kettle on?”

  “Oh no, I guess I’ve forgotten.” The Jay made a turn for the staircase leading up to the parlor.

  “No, I think I’ll get it,” The Derby made a slow march up the steps. “While I’m gone you could probably punch the other dummy.” He added sarcastically.

  O O O

  Dutifully, The Derby put on the kettle, and then ran upstairs to change out of his costume and into a velvet evening robe with horizontal-striped pajama bottoms. By the time The Derby, or rather Thaddeus Hedwater, made it back to the kitchen, the water was boiling. Taking the kettle off the stove, he sat it in the center of the tea table at the parlor, and then sat back in a chair holding a shortbread cookie to his lip.

  As he waited for The Jay to finish her training, Thaddeus was lost in thought. He could not believe his wife had so little faith in his abilities. It was true that he wasn’t much of a fighter, and he did rely a lot on the crime alert monitor. These sorts of things were never a problem when he lived in Manhattan.

  Ah, Manhattan, so many adventures, so many memories. Then he met Mary Jane, fell in love, and got married to her, all in the span of a single three-day trip she made overseas.

  Sure, he still loved her, as much as ever, but there was no doubt in his mind that when it came to sheer heroic ability, he merely stood in her shadow. Was it possible she was beginning to regret their marriage? Did things like fencing prowess mean so much to her that he was starting to seem…inadequate?

  As Thaddeus’ mind swam about in these ideas, The Jay finally came up from the basement. “Nothing like a spirited workout” she said curtly. “So, is tea ready?”

  “It is, and I also set out your nightgown so you may change.” Thaddeus said with a sigh, his mood not shifting even as she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

  “You’re all too good to me, dear. I’ll be right back,” and with that she sprinted upstairs.

  Suddenly, there was a sound like a sharp ‘twang’ ringing at the front door. Thaddeus looked up from his folded arms to see a splinter rising out of the inside. He stood and slowly crept from his chair, and then slowly and cautiously opened the door. On the other side, Thaddeus noticed a letter stuck to the strangest dagger he’d ever seen. After taking a moment to wrench the offending metal object loose from the door, he examined it. It was made of solid iron and felt very heavy in his hands. Whoever lobbed it must have been a
real-life Hercules. It had a hilt wrapped in leather and a rounded ring at the base with two red feathers tied at the end of long leather threads.

  Thaddeus shut the door and continued to examine the weapon as Mary Jane walked down the stairs. “Was there someone at the door?”

  “Not someone, some thing.” Thaddeus handed her the knife. “What do you make of it?”

  Mary Jane looked at the knife and quietly gasped. “I haven’t seen one of these in ages. And is that a note?”

  “Oh yes.” Thaddeus handed her the note. As she unfurled it, Thaddeus looked over her shoulder. It read:

  Mary Jane Preston,

  I took your family’s eye. I’ll soon be back for the other.

  -R.C.

  “What does it mean?” Thaddeus asked.

  “Nothing…It’s probably just a neighborhood kid pulling a prank.”

  “That’s an awful serious knife for a mere prank,” Thaddeus said forebodingly. “I don’t think a kid is strong enough to embed this heavy thing in our door, either.”

  “Never mind dear, you know I think I’ll be skipping tea tonight. I’m feeling a bit fatigued.” Mary Jane feigned a yawn, and started moving up the staircase.

  Standing at the base of the stairs, Thaddeus shook his head. He knew she was hiding something. In the pit of his stomach, he wanted with all his might to go up to her and console whatever this mysterious message had done to her. Instead, with a cynical sigh he concluded “Perhaps I wouldn’t be very good at that either.” and returned to his chair.

  O O O

  The next morning, Mary Jane rose from her bed. She looked to her side and saw Thaddeus’ side was empty. This was odd as up until today, she’d always been the first one awake.

  Still dressed in her nightgown, she walked halfway down the stairs. Seeing a familiar glint of red, she’d realized Thaddeus was already dressed as The Scarlet Derby, and seemed to be ready to leave the house. “Going on patrol so early?” Mary Jane asked.

  The Derby shook his head. “I’m meeting with Chief Constable O’Gratin. There’s been a recent outbreak of smash-and-grabs in the shopping district.”

  “Smash-and-grabs?” Mary Jane tasted those words. The phrase seemed unfamiliar to her.

  “It’s an American expression,” The Derby explained “Some low criminal has been walking into jewelry shops, busting open the cases and then running away with whatever they can carry.”

  Mary Jane scoffed “How absolutely vulgar. And you think this sort of crime is something hero-worthy?”

  “It came right off the crime alert monitor, so why not?” The Derby muttered distantly.

  There was a break during which Mary Jane’s head spun. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard her husband take that sort of tone. “Well, do you think, will you need my help?”

  “I’d prefer to take care of this one myself. I don’t want to risk becoming too soft,” The Derby declared and added “I’ll be back by dinner” before the door slammed shut. Mary Jane was stunned for a moment, but her expression steeled, and she turned around, climbing back up the stairs. She concluded that her husband was acting strange, but unfortunately, she had problems of her own.

  Opening the door to her vanity, she pulled out the letter and throwing knife, holding them both in front of her. Milling both objects between her fingers, she asked herself “What are you up to?”

  O O O

  “Excuse me? Derby? Excuse me. Are you listening?” The Constable spoke as he waved a hand in front of the Derby’s face.

  The Derby, who up until that moment was still thinking of what Mary Jane had said last night, snapped awake and replied. “Oh, yes, right. Sorry Constable. Could you repeat that last part?”

  The Constable sighed “After speaking to the shop owners we’ve determined that each of the three robberies happened within just a few minutes of each other beginning just after midnight. More than eighty percent of the objects within their casing are missing.”

  “Fast yet thorough.” The Derby concluded.

  “Indeed.” The Constable replied. “What we have left to determine is how in such a short amount of time the suspect was able to smash the window, smash the glass case, and make a break with most of the jewelry. Then, hit several adjacent stores and escape quicker than anyone who might have been on the street at the time could have reacted.”

  The Derby turned towards the case, his eyes narrowing to bear witness to the details of the wreckage. “Well, Constable, I can tell you this much: the burglar was wielding a katana?”

  “A katana?” The Constable repeated.

  The Derby nodded in confirmation. “If you look closely at the case there is an indentation in the center of the wooden frame, both on the top and on the bottom. That indicates the use of a sword, but also, you can see that there’s an even deeper gash right through the center of the wooden frame separating the top and bottom glass of the display case. That means whatever weapon struck the case was set deeper in the middle than it was on the top and bottom.”

  “That’s quite the deduction!” The Constable said in awe.

  “There’s more. I wager whoever did this used a precision strike each time.” The Derby put both his hands down on the base of the display case. “If I just use the tiniest bit of pressure...” He gave the table a small shove downwards, and the case collapsed straight to the ground. The whole table separated directly along the straight line made by the katana. The Derby stood upright and dusted off his glove-covered hands.

  “I say, that’s not the sort of skill you’d expect a common burglar to have.” The Constable noted.

  “But it is the type of skill you could expect from a martial artist.” The Derby said, moving back to the window, holding his walking stick in his hand. “The suspect cleared three stores in the span of an indeterminate number of minutes. First, he struck this window.” The Derby mimicked smashing the window by thrusting his walking stick downwards. “Then, he turned on his heel, swung the katana down on the case, shattering the glass thoroughly and grabbing everything he could with his free hand.”

  As he continued to explain, The Derby walked forward, leading with his cane, back out the window. “From here, he made a straight line to the shop across the street, and repeated the motion. Smash. Turn. Grab. Then he went onto the third, using exactly the same motions each time. It was a perfectly choreographed movement, just like that of a martial artist performing a kata.”

  “Perhaps it is time we warn the other jewelry stores.” The Constable proposed.

  “No, that won’t be needed. To a criminal with this sort of precision, this is just practice.” The Derby put a hand to his chin. “I wonder what they could truly be after…”

  “Well, if he or she were still after jewelry, it could be the new collection of ceremonial gemstones they’ve just began exhibiting at the Victoria and Albert museum.” The Constable suggested.

  “Right now, it’s as good a lead as any. Put some men on the premises. I’ll be headed there after hours to investigate.” The Derby turned and began to walk away.

  “Will you be working with Midnight Jay?” The Constable asked.

  ‘I can only hope.’ The Derby thought.

  O O O

  Mary Jane, dressed as Midnight Jay, stood out on the second floor balcony of her home, looking at the setting sun. She reminisced about how in the past, this was where it all began. As early as age sixteen she began putting on this dress and climbing down the ivy clinging below the window. As Midnight Jay, she always had to conduct herself in secret, whether she snuck out to attend secret soirees against the wishes of her parents, and later to fight crime. This was just like the evening when she decided to stop doing one and start doing the other.

  She heard the glass shatter. It was the downstairs window adjacent to the back door. “How predictable,” she sighed. She took her umbrella, and with great speed made it to the scene of the break-in. There stood a man just a head taller than her. Despite the darkness she could still make out a few
details, but remained rather more focused on the two swords he held, one in each hand, and pointed in her direction.

  “I knew you’d be here, Midnight Jay,” spoke the chilled voice of the shadowed figure.

  “Oh please, do dispense with the drama, Calvin.” The Jay raised her umbrella at the same height as the pair of swords. She was ready to defend herself and her house against this man, but she sadly also knew that the fight would only begin when this particular fiend finished his monologue.

  “You must know what I’m here for. Why not be a nice little girl and simply hand it over?” The figure’s deepened voice gained a little levity, as though he hoped this cheap tactic was actually going to work.

  “I don’t think so, Calvin. You’re not taking the eye, and you won’t be defeating me. Why not in turn be a nice little boy and walk right out that window you just smashed?”

  Calvin roared, and swung his katana towards the Jay. Anticipating it, she blocked it with her horizontally raised umbrella, hopping backwards when Calvin predictably attempted to slice her breadbasket open with the second blade. They moved out of the dark room and into the lit parlor, the Jay parrying all the while. In the light of the parlor it came clear that this man called Calvin was stout chested, yet thin at the waist, and quite athletic. He was also dressed head to toe in black including a black bandage wrapped around his face, obscuring everything but his amber colored eyes.

  “You’ve improved.” The Jay complimented drolly.

  “As have you, I’d almost consider it a shame to sever your head from your pretty little neck.” Calvin replied, giving another slash, also parried by The Jay.

  “Save the vulgarity for when you’re actually winning.” The Jay stated, giving a thrust of her own towards Calvin’s head, which he naturally dodged by tilting his head to the side.

  “You’re open!” Calvin swung his swords towards her midsection. But his attempts to slice her apart from the middle were thwarted when she jammed her heeled boot into his stomach and sent him tumbling backwards into Thaddeus’ chair. She smirked. ‘Oh, well, it’s high time I replaced that.’