45

  “Hubert Hess,” Nairo announced, dumping a collection of old, battered files on Ridley’s desk.

  Ridley curled his lip at the stack of reading and then waved his hand at Nairo.

  “Give me the synopsis,” he said.

  Nairo flopped down behind her desk and rubbed her tired eyes.

  “You assume I’ve already read them?” Nairo said, and Ridley just cocked an eyebrow at her. “Fine, I have.” She sat forward and pulled the files towards her. “Hubert Hess died a decade ago. He was born in Lower Walkham, his father was a lawyer and a small landowner. His mother died during childbirth, and his father remarried twice. Not much is known after that in the official records, just school and stuff, until he turns fifteen and he gets pinched for robbing a man at knifepoint down near the RatHoles. And then… all of this.”

  Nairo flung a thick blue folder onto Ridley’s desk.

  “What’s this?”

  “His police record.”

  Ridley let out a low whistle as he flicked through it.

  “Our boy was a real Villain,” Ridley said.

  “Or at least a wannabe,” Nairo said. “He got picked up four more times that year. Burglary, theft, carrying a concealed weapon, assault, drunk and disorderly, groping… his list of petty and not so petty crimes keeps going.”

  “Let me guess, daddy kept him out of BlackWater?” Ridley said.

  “More than likely. That is until he turned twenty and celebrated by stabbing a copper during a foot chase. The officer survived and fingered him in court. Somehow, the charges were reduced to resisting arrest and fleeing the scene of a crime. Hess was convicted and given a four year sentence.”

  “Only four years for stabbing a copper?” Ridley exclaimed. “How good of a lawyer was this guy’s dad?”

  “Must have been one of the best,” Nairo replied. “Anyway, Hess does his time, comes out at the age of twenty four and steps up his villainy. Just two years out of prison, and he’s running a brothel, a card house, and he’s loan sharking on the side.

  “Colourful, but what does it have to do with our case?”

  “Look at where he was arrested for pimping.”

  Ridley flicked through the file and read the charge sheet.

  “Vincent street,” he read. “Isn’t that right around the corner from the Umbry theatre?”

  “Yep,” Nairo said.

  “I mean, there’s gotta be half a dozen brothels around there, it’s the East End.”

  “You really don’t like to read, do you?”

  “And miss out on the chance to be condescended to by you?”

  Nairo rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger at the file.

  “Read the bottom of the page. Who else was picked up during the raid and listed as one of the clients?”

  Ridley scanned the list of names.

  “Sonofa… Manny Litteragi!”

  “Yep. Our dead theatre director was nicked in Hess’ brothel,” Nairo said.

  “Which means they must have known each other,” Ridley said.

  “More than that,” Nairo replied. “From what we know about Manny, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was supplying Hess with girls.”

  “Shit, you’re probably right,” Ridley said, leaning back in his chair. “But what does it all mean? Why was Quinn investigating some pimp who died a decade ago? How could he possibly factor into all of this?”

  “If it was important enough for Quinn to write down in his secret notes, it has to be something major,” Nairo said.

  “What else did you dig up?”

  “Not much,” Nairo said. “Hess stays out on the street for another couple of years. He gets arrested half a dozen more times, all similar charges, but avoids prison again. Then one day he’s found floating in the river after being stabbed a couple dozen times. The murderers were never found.”

  “You got the coroner’s report?” Ridley asked.

  Nairo dug around in the files and came up with a thin brown one and began reading.

  “Victim, a 29 year old male. Stabbed at least 23 times in the torso, neck, and head. He suffered breaks to his jaw, nose, and both orbital bones. Teeth were missing, possibly when facial damage occurred. Victim was found floating in the river, possibly two days after his murder. Cause of death: knife inflicted stab wounds.”

  “Damn,” Ridley said. “Someone really wanted our boy dead.”

  “He must have really upset somebody,” Nairo agreed.

  “Had to be street related. Killing someone like that is personal. Maybe a grudge or revenge and leaving him floating in the river sends a message.”

  “He seemed up to his neck in crime, I wouldn’t be surprised if he upset the wrong person and paid the price for it.”

  Ridley took the file from Nairo and looked over it.

  “How does the son of a successful lawyer end up knee deep in the game and then butchered?”

  “You think we need to look deeper into this Hubert Hess?” Nairo asked.

  “Yeah. I don’t know how he fits into this, but Quinn wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of tracking down his grave if he didn’t have reason.”

  “Well, that’s the limits of what my contacts can tell us,” Nairo said, waving a hand at the folders.

  “Then it’s time to hit up my links,” Ridley said, standing up and grabbing his coat. “I know just the fella to talk to.”

  “Wonderful,” Nairo said. “I do love talking to your friends.”

  Ridley flashed her a grin and grabbed his coat.

  “Come on Sarge, let’s find out who Hubert Hess really was.”

  *

  “A bookshop?” Nairo said as they stepped out of the cab.

  “Where did you think we were going?” Ridley said as he pulled up his collars to ward off the cold mist of rain.

  “Knowing you, it could have been anywhere from a seedy pub to an abattoir that doubles as a strip joint.”

  “Listen, the Bloody Pole is a great place to get information.”

  “And about half a dozen diseases.”

  Ridley chuckled as they walked down the quiet backstreet in the East End.

  “So why a bookshop?” Nairo asked.

  “We’re paying a visit to the Librarian,” Ridley replied as he sidestepped a man walking a shaggy haired dog and smoking a pipe.

  “Who is the Librarian?”

  “He’s like an encyclopaedia of Villainy.”

  “A what?”

  “At some point, the Librarian realised information can be worth as much gold as anything else on the street. He’s like a… central point for the underworld. You need to run a name or a face, you go to him. He ain’t so active nowadays, too many new Faces popping up for even him to keep tabs on, but if Hess was running game in this side of town a decade ago, then the Librarian will know about him.”

  Ridley stopped outside a peeling dark green door above which a faded green sign with orange cursive read: The FarAway Bookshop. The windows were grimy and blocked by shelves of books, but Nairo could see some yellowish light peeling out between hefty tomes. Ridley cleared his throat and jangled the bell rope. They waited a minute. There was a scrape of a bolt being drawn back and the door opened. A short man with brown skin and a thick black beard opened the door. He was so broad, his shoulders brushed either side of the hallway. He squinted at them.

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  “We’re here to see the Librarian,” Ridley said after the man said nothing.

  “You are?” the man said. He had a thick accent that Nairo couldn’t quite place.

  “Ridley. He knows me.”

  The man thought on this a moment before closing the door. After a few more minutes, the door opened again, and the squat man nodded his head.

  “He will see you.”

  They followed him into a dimly lit passage. He opened another door and they walked into the bookshop proper. The place stank of musty old books. Every wall and most of the floor space was crammed full of books both old and new. Many didn’t even have covers. There was a hint of damp about the place and there was an odd tilt to everything as if the bookstore was slowl collapsing in on itself under the weight of all those words.

  The squat man held up a hand.

  “I need to check for weapons,” he said.

  “Got plenty of those mate,” Ridley replied.

  The squat man cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms across his thick chest. Ridley sighed and pulled off his coat, laying it down gently on a stack of books.

  “It’ll be quicker this way,” he said to the man before holding out his arms and letting him pat him down.

  “I don’t carry weapons,” Nairo said, but the man still patted her down.

  “Come,” he said after he was satisfied they were unarmed.

  They walked under an arch that was made of books so tightly crammed together they seemed to be completely unsupported. They wound their way around another set of shelves that reached to the ceiling until they finally came upon a tiny old man sitting in a big comfy chair with a book in his lap. He could not have looked more like a friendly old grandpa if he had tried. He had tufts of white hair sticking out on the sides of his head, and his pate was completely bald. He had a thick, bristly white moustache and a peppering of stubble on his chin. His spectacles were round and a finger width thick. He wore an oversized cardigan the same colour as the front door that was made of some sort of thick yarn. His little feet rested up on a small plinth, and of course he was wearing slippers. He was next to a small fireplace with a fire crackling away and a blanket across his lap. He looked up and gave them a small smile.

  “Ahh Ridley, rumour had it your ticket had finally been punched,” the Librarian said with a wicked glint in his eye.

  “You know better than to believe rumours,” Ridley replied with a grin.

  “Ahh my boy, the only power rumours have is whether they’re believed or not. The Agastonian empire was brought down by a rumour after all,” the Librarian said. Despite his frail appearance, his voice was strong and clear still.

  “Must have been one hell of a rumour,” Ridley said, picking a sturdy stack of books to sit on.

  “The rumour doesn’t matter, it’s who believes it that does.” The Librarian gestured for Nairo to take a seat. “And this must be former Detective Sergeant Sally Nairo.”

  Nairo paused as she sat and looked at him in surprise.

  “That’s right,” she said. “How did you know that?”

  “Ahh a police officer leaving the force and joining a reprobate such as Ridley does get tongues wagging in every corner of Valderia. You my girl, are somewhat of a legend on the cobbles.”

  “I am?”

  “Why else would I know you?”

  The Librarian's eyes twinkled behind his glasses, and Nairo suddenly felt like she needed to be careful. This wasn’t just someone’s friendly old grandpa she was dealing with.

  “So what can I do for you, Ridley?” The Librarian asked, placing a leather bookmark on his page before shutting his book. “I take it this is not simply a social visit.”

  “‘Fraid I’ve caught a tough one I need some help with,” Ridley said.

  “I am sorry about Quinn,” the Librarian said and Ridley faltered at the mention of the name. “He was a good man. He had his faults, but he played the game as straight as he could.”

  “How do you know we’re here about Quinn?” Nairo asked.

  “It could be that I already knew,” the Librarian said. “Or it could be just a reasonable deduction. Quinn dies, and a week later his protege appears at my door on business.” Again, he gave Nairo that knowing smile.

  “Maybe and maybe not,” Ridley said bluntly. “I’ve got a name from back in the day I’m chasing up.”

  The Librarian rested his back in his chair and pursed his lips thoughtfully.

  "You are here about Hubert Hess, of course?"

  Nairo blinked in surprise and even Ridley looked thrown off balance.

  "How did you know that?" Nairo asked.

  "You're treading a worn path, Ms Nairo," The Librarian said.

  "Quinn," Ridley said with a tone of self-reproach. "Of course he would have come to you."

  "He was the one who introduced us, was he not?" The Librarian said, giving Ridley another small, knowing smile. "Be happy in the knowledge that you are stumbling down the same path Quinn did, shortly before his death."

  “So what did you tell him?" Ridley said eagerly.

  “Come now Ridley, you know that’s not how this works,” the Librarian chided. “Now it would be crass for me to put a price on the table since this is for Quinn, but let us trade information for information.”

  Ridley looked at Nairo, who gave a small shrug.

  “What do you want to know?” Ridley asked.

  “Not from you,” he said before turning to Nairo. “I want to know who stole that Diamond six months ago.”

  Nairo’s eyes widened, and she looked at Ridley and shook her head.

  “I’m afraid I can’t…”

  “That is my price,” the Librarian said with a tone of finality. “If you wish to know what I told Quinn about Herbert Hess, then you will tell me what I want to know. If not, you may leave.”

  Nairo gritted her teeth, her nostrils flaring, she looked at Ridley and he frowned.

  “We don’t have much other play here,” he said to her.

  “Why do you want to know?” Nairo asked.

  “Knowing things is what I do,” the Librarian said.

  “First you tell us what you know about Hess, if it is worth it, then I’ll tell you,” Nairo said.

  "No,” the Librarian replied bluntly.

  Ridley just held up his hands.

  “It was a Pixie the Elves were travelling with. They had Cut him and were using him to maintain the Diamond. He stole it.” Nairo said through gritted teeth.

  The Librarian closed his eyes and smiled.

  “Rumours are such wonderful things,” he said, chuckling dryly. “Thank you, my dear.”

  “Now, what about Hess?” Nairo said.

  “Ahh yes, Hubert Hess, what an interesting man.” The Librarian took his glasses off and began polishing them with a cloth. “I suppose you already know some of the basics, what can be found in a police file, for example?”

  “Yeah,” Ridley said.

  “But did you know who the Hess’s really were?”

  “What do you mean?” Nairo said.

  “Ahh you don’t, then you will find our trade to have been a fair one.” The Librarian put his glasses back on and smiled at her. “Hubert Hess was the great, great, great, great, three times removed, nephew of Redville Tillstock, one of the five original Owners.”

  “He was an Owner?” Ridley said incredulously.

  “Very tenuously, but yes, he was. His family had a very small slice of the pie. Enough that his father was able to go to a prestigious school and enough that Hubert also did. They had very little power or influence, but just enough they could live a comfortable life. But that wasn’t enough for Hubert. He loathed the fact that his family had been shunted aside, his branch of the family tree had been left out in the cold to wither and die, while others ruled as kings and queens. Of course, it was enough for his father, and his father, but Hubert was a man of high ambitions with a nasty chip on his shoulder. Rumour has it, at school he had actually tried to get in with his cousins and play at Owner. He was resoundly rejected by them. Eventually, he must have realised there was no game in playing it straight so he became a crook. You’ll know all about his arrests and his juvenile record, of course?”

  “But now we know how he kept skirting the consequences,” Ridley said.

  “Yes. His father’s connections were just enough to keep Hubert from facing serious time, even for stabbing that policeman. But after he got out of BlackWater, his father washed his hands of him so Hubert was on his own. He started running girls. He was a good looking lad from what I remember, he had a real charm about him. Young girls love the tall, dark, and dangerous types, don't they? Anyway, he got in with the theatre crowd and began pimping girls from the stage that didn’t quite have the talent to make it big in showbiz. He made a healthy living from it, too. Branched out to underground gambling and then loan sharking. Hubert was on his way to being somebody, but that arrogant streak of his always kept him in trouble. He didn’t want to play by Accords on the cobbles. He refused to kick up to the Firm and as you can imagine, that got him in a lot of trouble. He had a few run ins with them, one ending with a Face about the place being stabbed in the guts by Hubert. After that, he was a marked man. Then the police raided one of his brothels but again, Hubert walked. However, those pesky rumours started. How had Hubert avoided jail time again?”

  “He turned informant?” Nairo said.

  “That was the rumour,” the Librarian replied with a little smile. “The Firm believed he had ratted on them to stay out of jail.”

  “That’s why he was butchered,” Ridley said.

  “Had his face smashed to bits, I heard,” the Librarian said, the fire reflecting off his glasses. “His guts ripped to shreds and his body thrown in the river to send a message. Thus ended the ambitions of one Hubert Hess.”

  “Was Hess working with Manny Litteragi?” Nairo asked. “Is that where he got the girls from?”

  “The theatre director?” the Librarian said. “Oh no, this was more than a decade ago, Manny was little more than a hanger on, a runner, at this point. He knew Hess, everyone in that world did. Hubert fancied himself a patron of the arts, like the other Owners. He would rain gold on them, and they treated him like he was someone important. I even remember him bankrolling a few productions. It was the one place where a cheap gangster like him could associate with the upper crust. But Hubert had a nasty streak a mile long. He would sweet talk these young girls, get them strung out on anything addictive he could get his hands on, and then pimp them when they were desperate. He was vicious in the way he conducted his business. It was one of the reasons he drew the attention of police and the Firm, nobody liked the way he did things. He would beat his girls half to death if they stepped out of line and if they wanted to quit…” the Librarian paused, and a frown of distaste stretched the corners of his mouth. “He would slice them across the face. Disfigure them so they could never go back to the stage or make money anywhere else.”

  Nairo felt the bile rise in the back of her throat.

  “Glad he got was coming to him then,” Ridley said, a snarl curling across his lips.

  “They almost always do,” the Librarian said.

  “One more question,” Nairo said, gathering herself and pushing down the rage that was burning in her stomach. “Did Hubert Hess ever have any relationship with Friedrich Shumacker?”

  The Librarian considered for a moment.

  “I like her, she asks the most interesting questions." He said to Ridley." Not as far as I am aware. Friedrich would have been a few years older than Hess. They may have frequented some of the same establishments. I know Hess was particularly fond of the Umbry theatre as was Shumacker but I never knew about Hess having any real ties to any actual Owners, as much as he tried. They would have seen him as just some mongrel, not even really apart of their bloodline anymore, and that’s before he became a violent pimp. Although, with Friedrich’s well-known appetites, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had used Hess’ services at some point.”

  “And you can’t think of any reason why Quinn might have been looking into Hess?” Ridley asked.

  “Isn’t that your job to find that out?” the Librarian asked but then added. “If there is a link, then I’m afraid it died with Hess and Quinn. Perhaps if you find who killed Quinn, you’ll find out why he was looking into Hess.”

  “Who said Quinn was killed?” Ridley said, his eyes narrowing.

  The Librarian gifted him another knowing smile.

  “Rumours,” he whispered. “I don’t think I have anything more to tell you I’m afraid. Thank you for your visit, it was most illuminating.” The Librarian turned back to his book and flipped it open to the page he was reading.

  The squat man appeared from behind one of the bookshelves and ushered them out. Once the door snapped shut behind them, Nairo turned to Ridley.

  “You feel like there was something he wasn’t telling us?” she asked.

  “Every fucking time I talk to him,” Ridley growled. “Come on, let's get back to the office. There’s something more to this Hubert Hess, I feel it in my guts.”