Chapter 17
The Funeral
I know Fredrick will argue the point if I stay on the telephone any longer. Instead, I hang up after declaring I quit and feel my ears grow hot. It’s a hard decision to make, but it’s where the case was always going to go.
I shake my head and collapse on my couch. I’ve had to quit cases before, but rarely while I still had leads and places to look. But with everything I’ve lost, I can no longer justify staying on it; I only wish I’d realized it while I had still been talking to Liddell.
I think about everyone: Genevieve is on her way to Montreal, Dorothy is gone to who knows where, and my brother is dead. Their faces cycle through my consciousness, driving me mad.
I get up, go to the desk and grab the bottle of hooch. I stare at the amber liquid and imagine the pain going away. I imagine not having to worry about the case or any other problem I have. I place my hand on my piece and lift it from the holster. It’s so simple. Just point and shoot. Press and squeeze. It wouldn’t hurt for more than a second, if that.
I put the gun down on my desk, and tears flow faster than before. I feel rage bubbling in me. My face grows red, I grit my teeth, and I throw the bottle of hooch at the wall. It shatters into a thousand tiny shards of glass, and the smell of cheap booze fills the office.
This is it. This is my bottom. I always imagined it would be with a doctor telling me I had to quit drinking or smoking. Or with a bullet lodged in a bone, crippling me and making it impossible to be a detective. I even imagined something crushing my legs, or blinding me, or the ringing in my ears from so many gunshots ruining my hearing. I never imagined it would be because the people closest to me were gone.
I regret throwing the hooch at the wall. I see the indent the bottle made in the plaster and the spilled contents on the floor. I grab the broom and sweep as much of the glass as I can into the trash bin. I’ll have to wait for the hooch to dry before I can try to get it all, and even then I’m likely going to have to walk around with shoes on for much longer than I’d like.
I sigh heavily and walk to my bed. I curl up and stay in that position until I fall into a dreamless sleep.
***
The day of Brandon’s funeral is bright and sunny; even the temperature had risen from a chill minus twenty to a tolerable minus ten. It would have been much more fitting had it been cold and snowing. At least then I could believe the world was mourning with me. But that’s not how the weather seems to work.
I sit at the front of the church, staring at the casket my brother lies in. Brandon had always asked for a closed casket funeral, so I fulfill his request.
I feel a woman’s hand on my shoulder. “My deepest condolences, Thomas.”
I look up, and Genevieve is looking back at me, a sad smile on her face. I widen my eyes and wrap my arms around her. An inappropriate action, but I don’t care and I know she doesn’t either.
When we part, I stare into her eyes. “I told you to leave town.”
Genevieve lowers her head and looks up at me. “I did, but after I heard about Brandon, I couldn’t leave you alone.”
“How’s Arthur taking that?”
“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug. “I left him when I left the city. He refused to leave, so I did without him. I told him I was going to stay with my mother, which was the truth at the time.”
“How did you hear about Brandon?”
“I heard it mentioned on the radio,” she replies. “Believe it or not, but some deaths do get reported, especially if their family is notable.”
I narrow my eyes and move my head to the side. There’s no reason Brandon’s death should be announced on the radio. Genevieve may believe I’m someone of repute, but I’m really nothing more than a shamus who consults with the police on occasion or takes the lead on an investigation here and there.
It has to have been a call made by The Legion of Twelve. Ghost Style Productions would have sent it out, but why? Maybe because I work for The Ares Corporation? It still doesn’t make sense; the Legion of Twelve employs nearly half of the population of Red City; if they made funeral announcements for every family member of a Legion employee, that’s all they would be airing.
No, what’s going on has to do with the case I recently abandoned. Nobody but Fredrick knows I quit, so they’re still trying to goad me, showing me that they are capable of luring my loved ones back into the city despite having sent them away.
“You’re thinking, aren’t you,” Genevieve said, a slight giggle in her voice.
“Yes, I am,” I admit. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’m quitting the case.”
“You are?”
This time I lower my head. I look into Genevieve’s eyes and a tear rolls down my face.
“I lost everyone and I was spinning out of control. I have no idea where I was going or how to solve the case. Every time I have any footing, I slip back, and I can feel them laughing at me for it. They know every move I’m going to make, and I’m done. I can’t go forward with the case. Maybe The Ares Corporation can deal with it. I can’t. And that’s assuming they’re not a part of this already.”
“Have you told them you quit?”
I shake my head. “I’m waiting until after the funeral. I was given a few days to bury my brother, so I’m sure they have someone on the case until I get back.”
Genevieve hugs me. “Well, I’m not going anywhere again.”
I smile. “You better not; I’m making you my partner.”
Genevieve darts back, her eyes wide and her jaw open. “What?”
“You’re a bright woman and one of the best minds I’ve seen in a long time. When I told you to leave town, I regretted it immediately. Mostly, I regretted not giving you a chance to come into your own as a detective.”
Genevieve laughs. “Do you really think The Ares Corporation would take me on as a detective? I am a woman, after all.”
“With a recommendation from me? Yes, they will.”
The priest approaches us, cutting off our conversation. “Mister Baxter, are you ready for the eulogy?”
The priest is a short old man with a head full of snow-white hair. I give him a nod, and he points at a podium with a shaky hand. “Just go up there when I tell you, and you can give your brother a send-off.”
I slap the old man on the back. “Thank you.”
The priest nods and shuffles over to the people in the church, asking them to take their seats. I take my seat, and Genevieve sits beside me. I look at her and smile. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to express how much I appreciate her being here.
The priest steps to the front of the room and behind the podium beside the casket. As soon as he takes his position, everyone stops talking and listens.
“It’s never easy to lose a sibling, especially one so young. Brandon Baxter, aged thirty-seven, passed three days ago in the Red City Mental Institution. It was originally believed he died of natural causes, but as a killer has stepped forward, we now know he was murdered.”
I eye the priest, wondering where he’s going with his eulogy. So far, I can’t say as I approve.
“With that knowledge, it’s easy to wonder why our Lord would allow such a thing to happen. After all, the bible says ‘Thou Shall Not Kill.’ If The Lord is really so powerful, why would he allow others to commit such heinous crimes? Why would he allow people to take lives and change the lives of those the victims leave behind? I’m afraid those are questions we may never have answers to.
“However, the loss of life is in itself a natural act. In the end, no matter how careful we are, no matter how many people love us, no matter how much we accumulate in life, we all end up in the grave. It’s upsetting for the grave to come for one so young, especially not in the way nature would have intended. But our Lord works in mysterious ways, and it’s his will to bring his son back home to him.
“If you all will rise, I would ask Brandon’s brother, Thomas, to come up to the podium and say a few words about his brother.
”
Everyone stands, and I leave my seat and join the priest behind the podium. I give him a warning glance, avoiding any expression of my displeasure of his words.
I look out at the few people who came out for the funeral. In the back of the room, I see Sergeant Liddell, his head bowed in what I believe to be a silent prayer. To the side of the room, I see her. Dorothy. She’s dolled up, dressed in a dark red dress and a veil. My eyes widen, and she sees I’ve spotted her. She lifts the veil and smiles, giving me a nod.
I begin to speak.
“My brother was a good man. He fought in The Great War and returned as many of our soldiers did, broken and shell-shocked. He was lucky to have not been physically wounded, but the mental scars ran deeper than anyone could have expected.
“When he came back from the war, he had a hard time adjusting. Any bump in the night would wake him, and he’d instantly believe he was back under fire. When he did manage to sleep a full night, we didn’t dare wake him. I personally learned that lesson when I shook his shoulder, and I received a stab wound to my shoulder. I didn’t know at the time he slept with a knife.
“Mother and father took him to the mental institute shortly after that. And there he stayed for most of his adult life. Every few years, he’d come back, believing he was all right. But the nightmares would always return and he’d have to go back. After I think it was the sixth time, he chose to remain in the institute indefinitely.
“I don’t think a week went by without mother going to see him, more so after father died. When she passed shortly after, he stopped receiving visitors as often. By then, I was a detective and busy all the time. There would be times where I’d be chasing down a killer or looking through the dregs of Red City for a missing child while he stayed in his room, alone.
“I’d visit him, sure. But it was only a few times a year. I always preferred writing letters.” I stop and lower my head. I sigh deeply and raise my head back up. “Brandon deserved a better brother than I was. The problem is, you never realize it when they’re still around. You avoid them, push off visits, and do what you can to focus solely on what you want to do. If I could go back, even only a year, I would spend at least a day a week with my brother. I miss him deeply, and I wish I could have him back.”
I stop for a moment, a lump rising in my throat. “I caught his killer, and I made sure he confessed to the police as easily as he confessed to me. I may not have been a good brother, but at least I brought his killer to justice. It’s not enough; it will never be enough. But it’s all I can do.
“If any of you in the audience take anything away from this service, embrace those you love and let them know how you feel. Don’t be afraid to express your emotions; don’t be afraid of the opinions of others because, in your attempt at maintaining composure, you’re harming someone else, someone who could be very close to you. I’m not going to get into all that I’ve lost in the past week, but I have a feeling it’s not over for me. I don’t believe everything is lost for good.”
I look down at Genevieve and smile before moving to gaze into Dorothy’s eyes. I give her a nod and see the tears falling down her smiling face.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming. My brother meant something to all of you, and that means a lot to me.”
I step away from the podium and walk back to my seat. Genevieve takes my hand and smiles at me. “That was beautiful,” she says. “I understand where the promotion comes from now.”
“I didn’t appreciate you, and I’m sorry.”
Genevieve gently pulls her hand away. “Let’s just get me a licence before you start with the waterworks. All right?”
I chuckle. “Okey.”
The priest approaches the podium and goes into a speech telling everyone that God is with them and will protect them on their way home. I scoff at the idea, and Genevieve gives me a half-hearted giggle.
I stand as everyone else does and walk to the back of the church. Dorothy is waiting for me, her hands in her jacket pockets.
“You left town,” I say.
She nods. “I know, and I’m so sorry, Thomas. If you only knew . . .”
“I know enough,” I say, grabbing her hands and putting them in mine. “I don’t know everything, and a big part of me doesn’t want to know. I’m leaving the case. That said, I’m not a threat to them anymore. Maybe they’ll finally leave us alone, and I can live my life with both you and Genevieve in it.”
Dorothy smiles. “I’d like that. And I’m glad you’re not angry with me.”
“Only if you’re not angry with me.”
Dorothy cocks her head back and frowns. “What would I have to be angry about?”
I think about telling her everything, laying it all out. Explaining how awful I was and how I had no right to be with her. How quickly I’d given up and, worst of all, how quickly I allowed myself to get over her.
“Never mind,” I say. “I’ll explain later. For now, let’s just go home. I have a call to make.”
Dorothy nods and takes my hand. Together we exit the church and head for my office apartment.
***
The Ares Corporation takes my backing away from the case as well as can be expected. They argue with me, tell me I can’t get out of my contract so easily. They even threaten to revoke my licence if I back away from it. I only get off the hook when I tell them my brother died due to the case and I can’t be as effective as I’m required to be. I even throw in a desire for vengeance, just to be safe. Legally, they can’t let someone like me on the case with all the reasons I give them.
Dorothy spends the night with me. She doesn’t care what people think, much like Ruth Sutton. She offers to move in to help protect my reputation as an honest man. We have a laugh at the idea, and in a couple weeks, we’ve moved in together.
It doesn’t take long before I realize I don’t have room for both a woman and a business in my apartment. Over the next few months, I get several more jobs and obtain a new apartment just a few blocks from my office.
As promised, I get Genevieve into the Ares Corporation, and in no time at all she manages to get a detective’s licence. Having switched back to her maiden name, the door to our office reads “Baxter and Lamarche, Private Detectives.” We continue to get a chuckle out of it when people come in and see my partner is a woman.
Surprisingly, I don’t hear from Howard Sutton, Helen O’Reilly, or anyone from the case before. While before I couldn’t go anywhere without some odd occurrence happening, life has returned to a comfortable normal. Every once in a while, I find myself wondering who in the city is one of them and if they’re watching us from a distance. But the paranoia fades over time, and I’m allowed to live a normal life.
After a year of living together, Dorothy and I finally tie the knot and become man and wife. It’s an experience indescribable to anyone ignorant of the feeling. We’ve even started trying for children.
I’ve never been happier.
Chapter 18
The Call
I open the door to my office, and Jenny, our new receptionist, smiles.
“Good morning Mister Baxter.”
She’s a dish with her dark hair, blue eyes and a smile to make any man melt. Genevieve had made some arguments about hiring her. Still, Jenny’s qualifications spoke for themselves; she worked as a receptionist for the Ares Corporation for a couple of years.
“Is Genevieve in?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“She’s been in the office for a couple hours now.”
I give Jenny a smile and walk through the office doors. As they swing shut, Genevieve looks up from her typewriter. Her face is stressed and her eyes are droopy as if she hadn’t slept all night. Strands of hair have come undone from the tight bun she usually keeps concealed under a hat. Her lips are tight and her brows furrowed.
“It’s about time you got here,” she says bitterly. “Liddell’s been breathing down my neck all morning for your ‘big idea’ you said you had but couldn’t explain un
til morning.”
It has been some time since I’ve been put on a murder case, and this time it’s strictly as a consultant. The investigation is to be conducted by the Red City Police Department and all their inadequacies. Turns out the Ares Corporation is capable of holding a grudge for quite some time.
“Sorry,” I say. “I had to take Dorothy to the doctor.”
Genevieve’s eyes widen slightly and her mouth softens. “Is she all right?”
I nod. “I think she might be pregnant.”
Genevieve grins and stands from her chair. “Congratulations,” she says, opening her arms to embrace me in a hug.
I hold out my hand to shake hers, but she pushes past the outstretched hand and wraps her arms around me.
“Now, hold on,” I say. “Nothing is official yet. I’m not even sure if this new way of testing even works.”
“It works,” Genevieve says, grinning from ear to ear. “Trust me, the science is there.”
“How would you know? You don’t have children.”
“I don’t,” Genevieve replies. “And if I have my way, I never will. But I do have friends who have had children recently, and they all swear by the doctor's tests.”
“In any case,” I say, pulling out a snipe from the pack. I grab another one and offer it to Genevieve. She declines, and I put the pack back in my breast pocket. “There’s nothing confirmed yet, but we want to know.”
“Regardless,” Genevieve says, returning to her desk. “Congratulations if she is pregnant.”
“Thank you.”
“With that out of the way, you better call Liddell about how you solved the murder case.”
I grin. “I didn’t solve it; I just know a spot where the police overlooked key evidence.”
I grab the horn, and I dial the number for the police department. A few call connections later and Liddell is on the other side.
“Captain Liddell, how are you?” I ask.
“Cut to the chase,” Liddell snaps.
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