The Double Vice: The 1st Hidden Gotham Novel by Chris Holcombe (free ebook reader txt) 📕

could see Walter through it.

Just like Karl did when he was hiding in my water closet.

Dash muttered, “What are we going to do?”

“First thing’s first. We get Walter out of here.”

“And take him where?”

“Throw him in the street.”

“He’ll just boomerang back here.”

“Pour him into a hack and send him home. Do we know where he lives?”

Dash sighed. “No.”

He felt a light touch on his shoulder. He turned away from trying to stare through the wall and saw a glass of gin in Joe’s hand. He took it and held it up in a mock toast.

“To our future. Whatever and wherever it may be.”

He downed the contents in one swallow.

“Do you want me out there with you?” asked Joe.

Dash shook his head while he coughed. Goodness, their gin was vile. “You need to mind the club. Finn will just give our drinks away in the hopes of getting someone to take him home.”

“You’re sure you can handle him?”

“I’m not sure of anything at the moment.”

Joe took another look at Dash, then tended to the next customer. The band began another song, the cornet moaning lustily.

Dash took a deep breath and returned to the tailor shop’s changing area. He nodded to Atty that he needed to be alone with Walter.

“Keep a watch out for anything suspicious,” he said. “God knows who this man called while he was drunk.”

“Youse got it, Boss.”

Atty left, closing the curtain around them.

Dash sat across from the German again, who was shakily taking short sips of the bitter black coffee. “What is it you want?”

“What makes you think I want something.”

This response sparked Dash’s anger. He said darkly, “Don’t toy with me, it’s unbecoming.”

Walter smirked. “Very well then. I want you to find the pansy he was with last night.”

Dash furrowed his brow, not comprehending. “You think a female impersonator robbed Karl?”

“Do not concern yourself with that. You remember him, yes?”

Just a darkened shadow in a blue and gold dress.

“What if I don’t?”

“Then I’d say you’re lying to me again. And you will regret it.”

Dash lightly bit the inside of his lip. “I remember what she wore, but I didn’t speak with her in any way.”

“Then you will have to be clever because I want his name and address. I want to know where I can find him.”

Vengeance. He wants to spill her blood.

“I understand why you’d want to know those things,” Dash slowly said, “but it won’t change—”

“I want to know. He let Karl lead a wicked life. Encouraged it even. And he caused my brother’s death. I know this to be true. I want his name and where I can find him.”

“Revenge won’t solve anything, Mr. Müller. It certainly won’t bring your brother back.”

“It is not revenge.”

“What is it then?”

The sick jack-o’-lantern smile was back again. “It’s business.”

Dash suppressed a shiver. “She wasn’t with Karl last night. She left him behind after you so rudely started a fight.”

“He wouldn’t leave Karl. Not for long, at least.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Karl had something this degenerate pansy needed.”

“And that is . . . ?”

Walter didn’t respond.

“Listen, mister, I’m not tracking this person down just because you asked me to.”

“I didn’t realize I was asking. As I said before, you’re in no position to argue. If you do not cooperate, I will have you and your friends arrested, your business shut down, and your lives forever ruined. Do you understand?”

Adrenaline pumped through Dash’s veins. A surge of nausea hit his churning stomach as he wondered How do we get out of this?

The reply was swift and terrible: We can’t.

“Where should I start?” he asked, his voice tight. “I don’t know the first thing about your brother.”

“Perhaps my brother’s friend can help. His name is Tyler Smith. He would take in my brother when Mother told him to leave his wicked ways or leave our home.”

“Is he the girl you were looking for last night?”

“No, Mr. Parker, though I’d often see that pansy with him.”

“Was he with her last night?”

A shake of Walter’s head. “He was not with the pansy when I followed him here.”

“And where can I find this friend, this Tyler Smith?”

“I have the address. He’s at the Shelton Hotel.”

“Not to be difficult, but why not ask him yourself?”

“I believe he might be more forthcoming speaking to other men of . . . his kind.”

“And if he’s not?”

Walter wasn’t interested in barriers. “It’s in your best interest to make sure that he is.”

“What happens after?”

“You come to me.” Walter reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “You will give me a report at this address immediately after your visit to the Shelton.” He handed the piece of paper to Dash.

Dash unfolded it and saw an angular script very much like the man who wrote it: harsh and exact. The address was an apartment on 86th Street and Avenue A. In the heart of the new Germantown.

“No, sir,” Dash said. “I meant what happens after we tell you whatever this Tyler Smith tells us? After we find the female impersonator?”

Walter took his time, his sinister tongue caressing the words. “That, you do not want to know.”

“I will not allow you to harm innocent people, Mr. Müller.”

Walter was clearly enjoying Dash’s moral crisis. “You will not do as I have asked?”

“Not if it means murder!”

Walter’s face then took on a mocking sadness. “Then I’m afraid it’s prison for all of you . . .”

9

The cab could not get to the Oyster House fast enough. Karl was not dead. He couldn’t be. Dash’s hands rubbed together while he stared out the window at the city rushing by in flashes of light. The hack bounced over intersections and trolley lines, causing Dash to intermittently grab the door handle to keep from flying upwards into the ceiling. His foot tapped an urgent beat on the floorboards, all staccato notes, no rests.

This is just a devious trick by an evil man. That’s all.

His pulse pounded in his throat, making it hard to swallow. Once the cab pulled up