Adam Drake - Blackout

“What if there is a bear?” I said, taking my pistol out of the satchel.

“Then you can summon a bear-eating cat,” Fairfax said, and I caught the profile of a grin on his face.

We approached at an angle to get a better look. Then Fairfax stood straight and frowned. “It’s a sewer grate.”

The round cave contained the concrete workings of a sewage tunnel entrance. A large grate barred any access. A foul smelling trickle of water seeped out of it and into the ground.

“Well,” I said. “That was anticlimactic.”

A huge old padlock was secured to the grate. Fairfax pointed at it. “Can one of your friends do something with this?”

“What? And go prancing through the sewers? I don’t think so, Fairfax.” But at his expression I sighed and looked at the knitting bag’s clasp. It was wooden. “Sorry,” I said. “They do not want to come out to play.”

Fairfax looked at the muddy ground just outside the concrete entrance. “No boot marks. There are animal tracks but little else.” He stood and glowered at the sewer grate. “I’m willing to bet he came through this.”

I shrugged. “Maybe he did. But I will admit it is good to know that this thing is here. And perhaps a little disconcerting.” Very disconcerting. A secret highway for robbers and thugs that spits out onto my backyard. I wondered how extensive the sewer network was.

“Okay,” Fairfax said. “Let’s return, shall we?”

As we shuffled back to the house Fairfax asked, “He tried to shoot at you with a pistol. But the cat blocked it. Right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” I wheezed. This hiking was for younger people, that was a certainty.

“Why didn’t he try to turn you to stone with the Talon? Why switch to a pistol now?”

That was a good question and one I had not considered. After a few moments thought I said, “Most artifacts and relics need time to recharge their magic. My guess is the Talon was not ready to be used again, hence the pistol.”

Fairfax said, “Then based on the rough time frames when Elicia and Oswall were stoned maybe it can only be used once a day. Or after a long stretch of hours.”

“Sounds reasonable, Fairfax, but we cannot know for certain. We should consider it usable at any time.”

At the buggy we took a rest. I leaned against the hood and panted like an old hound dog returning from a hunt.

“Where to this morning?” Fairfax said as he eyed our surroundings.

“I had time to mull things over last night,” I said. “There is a definite connection between the museum burglary and Elicia.”

“And what is that?”

“Not a what. A who,” I said and opened the buggy’s passenger door. “Come, Fairfax. We have one more interview which may finally result in a solid lead.”

xxxx

A fog had fallen across the Hearts District making driving more of a chore. But we located the Hubertus residence after I convinced Fairfax to stop and ask for directions from a clockworks toy seller at the roadside.

The Hubertus home was a narrow townhouse quite like Elicia’s only theirs was painted a bright yellow from ground to roof. Pasha Hubertus was no doubt responsible for the choice in color.

“My eyes hurt if I look at it too long,” Fairfax said as we parked and got out.

“We need to be on our best behavior with these two,” I said as we climbed the stairs. “There are questions that may put an end to this, and they have the answers. So, if asked, you love the color.”

Fairfax sighed and followed.

The moment I rapped on the door it flew open. Pasha stood in the doorway, a flummoxed look on her face. She had forgone blue for today and instead wore an outfit of eye-shattering green.

“This cannot be good,” Pasha said. Her eyes darted between Fairfax and I.

“Mrs. Hubertus, we have follow-up questions for you and your husband. Is Mr. Hubertus here?” I said.

For a moment Pasha appeared to be trying to decide on whether to slam the door. Instead, she turned her head and bellowed, “Win! Those coppers are back!”

“Who?” Winimar called from the bowels of the house.

“Coppers!” She looked at us, eyes contorted with suspicion.

“Well, ask them in for tea!” Winimar said.

Pasha’s stern expression transformed into a bright and happy smile. “We’ve put tea on. Would you like some?”

This woman runs hot and cold, I thought. Her husband must be perpetually scatter-shot.

I thanked her and we entered the tiny foyer. After slamming the door Pasha led us through a hall into a kitchen. Winimar was sitting at a table hunched over a newspaper.

As we entered he said, “Looking for a new job. These want ads are for the dogs.”

Pasha waved at the table for us to take a chair. I sat but Fairfax opted to stand to one side of me. He was on his guard and was ready to draw his pistol in an instant. I had told him I was uncertain whether the Hubertus couple had anything to do with the murders. How they answered my questions would decide that.

Winimar pointed at the newspaper. “The only jobs in here worth looking at are for people with clockwork skills. That’s not for me. I have enough trouble attaching rock lights to their clamps, let alone messing with little gears and pulleys.”

“Your fingers are too fat, Win,” Pasha said as she prepared tea at the counter. I kept an eye on what her hands were doing.

“Maybe I’ll just shovel coal,” Winimar said. “Always need people to do that. Don’t last long on the job, but at least it pays.”

I offered a commiserating smile then said, “Mr. Hubertus I was wondering if you could tell us how you got the job at the High Garden Museum?”

Pasha caused a small clatter with the dishes.

Winimar said, “Oh, yes. That was a bit of luck on my part, really. Didn’t even need to look through the paper. It sort of landed in my lap.”

When he did not elaborate I asked, “Yes, but how? Was it offered to you or did you apply?”

Pasha turned, her tea task forgotten. “What does that have to do with anything? What’s it matter how someone got a job?”

Winimar looked surprised at Pasha’s outburst. “Pash, dear. It’s okay.” He looked at me. “Turned out I have a family connection with favors he could call on. Really high up in the government. Makes things so much easier for a little fellow like me when you know someone, well, in the know.”

“A family connection with the museum?” I said.

“Well, not the museum. He just has influence enough in town that he can get things done with little bother.”

“Who is this family connection?”

“My cousin,” Winimar said. “He knew I was out of work, having lost my job with the sewage department due to them closing down large sections of the tunnels. And like an angel he appeared and said he had the perfect job for me. At the museum. Never been there in my life, have I Pash? And yet the very next day I was on the job, making rounds and earning a salary better than the sewage department could ever offer.”

I casually slid my hand into my satchel. “And who is your cousin, exactly?”

He looked between myself and Fairfax as if the answer was obvious. “Why, his name’s Davlon. Davlon Blythe.”

A volcano of emotion surged within me, roiling through my body and threatened to explode. I heard Fairfax grind his teeth.

Winimar, for his sake, looked baffled at our reaction. “Don’t you know him? Works for Mayor Archambault, he does. His right-hand man.”

I made a tremendous effort not to scream. Instead, I took a breath and asked, “Once you were working at the museum did Mr. Blythe ask you for any favors in return?”

“Just one,” Winimar said. “And it wasn’t a very big favor either, if you ask me. He only wanted me to tell him when new objects and things arrived from the Capital. Figured I’d be the first to know since I had the run of the place.”