Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
In my youth, I imagined life as a hotshot journalist would be action-packed, fraught with danger and intrigue to the point where I would almost feel like a spy. I wanted to change the world, to make it a better place, to make people feel like they had a voice and that their story mattered. But today marks an all-time low in my career as I stand in the frozen-food section of The Eldorado Food Emporium, surrounded by row upon row of fish fingers and faced with a terrified old lady who had her purse stolen from her two days ago.
“Can you tell me what happened, Mrs Wyatt?”
Marian Wyatt tugs at the sleeves of her grey coat as if she’s trying to disappear inside it.
“We can do this interview somewhere else if you’d prefer,” I say.
Interviewing Mrs Wyatt in the very aisle where she had her purse stolen was not one of Captain’s better ideas. She’s clearly traumatised by what happened to her, and she’d be far more happier talking to me in the safety of her own home. But Captain had argued that revisiting the scene of the crime might bring back some memories and would make for a better story.
“The readers will feel her fear,” he’d said. “Nothing is frightening about an old lady sitting in the comfort of her own home while drinking tea and telling you all about the thief who snatched her purse.”
“I’m fine, honestly,” Mrs Wyatt tells me, her wide eyes saying otherwise. “I’ve been shopping here for twenty years, ever since my husband, Ronald, died. I don’t want these thugs to win. They’ve already stolen my purse and my money. Why should they get to steal my life as well?”
There’s a glimmer behind her rheumy eyes, and for a second, I almost believe her. But I think we both know the thugs have won, and it breaks my heart.
“So, you were in this very aisle when the theft happened?”
“Yes. I was buying Napoleon his favourite fish fingers.” Mrs Wyatt gestures to the boxes of Titan Fish Fingers in the freezer behind us.
“Napoleon?” I ask as I fiddle with my Dictaphone.
“He’s my cat. Fussy little beggar when it comes to dinnertime, but he’s been my only companion since Ronald died. He’ll only eat this brand of fish fingers, and this shop is the only one that stocks them. Anyway, I was just putting the box in my basket when I remembered that I had a coupon for them. So, I got my purse out of my bag and started to look for the coupon, and that’s when the girl came up behind me and snatched my purse from my hand.”
“You must have been so scared.”
“Not at first. I was angry. What would Napoleon have for his tea if I didn’t get him his fish fingers?”
“Did you get a good look at the girl?” I ask.
“I say girl, but she was a teenager. Dark clothes, a hooded jumper pulled over her head, and pink patterned boots that looked too big for her feet. She was so brazen. Just snatched it from my hand and walked out of the shop as if she’d done nothing wrong.”
Mrs Wyatt shakes her head, and I can see some of her anger washing away, the fear she arrived with settling back in. I can’t help but think about seventeen-year-old Valdemar and how he had something of value taken from him as easily as this girl had taken Mrs Wyatt’s purse.
“Did you report it to the police?”
“Pfft.” She scrunches up her face. “And what do you think they would have done? Nothing, that’s what. How many crimes are committed in this city that the police have no power to do anything about? How many reports have you covered where a victim has been left helpless because the police are unable to reprimand the criminals?” She folds her arms. “I got the man on the checkout to go and get the manager, and even he said there was no point in calling the police. He told me that theft in this shop has doubled over the last few years, but the police are powerless. They know they can’t catch these villains, and even if they did, they have no authority in this city. I don’t feel safe anymore, and I’ve lived here all my life. I should be able to go and buy some fish fingers for my cat without being afraid. This city is going to the dogs. There was a time when someone would have done something about the rising crime. Would have hunted these criminals down and strung them up.”
She’s right. This city is going to the dogs, and I see it now, the influence the Raven Hands had over this city ten years ago, the fear they used to wield over the criminals, the punishments they would dole out so that the law-abiding citizens could live in peace. And I hate that she’s right, but even more, I hate the fact that all I can think about is how much I would like to teach these criminals a lesson—one they won’t forget.
“Thank you for your time, Mrs Wyatt,” I say, switching off my Dictaphone and stuffing it into my bag. “I think I have all I need.”
“You have my number if you have any more questions.”
“Yes, I do.”
We walk slowly towards the exit, Mrs Wyatt hunched up as if she’s trying to make herself look smaller, and I wonder how many more people in this city have a story similar to hers.
“I’ll keep a lookout for your report, Miss Bransby, and thank you for taking this seriously. I’m sorry to say that some of the other papers wouldn’t even come out and talk to me.”
The doors to the entrance of The Eldorado Food Emporium open, letting a gust of wind whip at the back of Mrs Wyatt’s coat. She smiles weakly, turns, and walks out of the shop just as Jupiter walks in.
Instinctively, I step back, pulling my coat around my body and then stuffing my hands into my pockets.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
Jupiter grins, and I take two steps back, hoping to God he’s either bumped into me accidentally, which I doubt, or that he’s been following me the old-fashioned way and this has nothing to do with his gift. He didn’t touch me the last time I saw him, but even so, uncertainty niggles at me.
“What do you want?” Tracking his hands, I keep my distance.
But he picks up on it and glares at me. Holding both hands in the air, he stops moving. “I just want to talk.”
“About what?” I ask.
His eyes narrow. “I know who you are.”
“Congratulations.” I smirk.
“And I know who you work for,” he adds.
“So?”
“So, I’m sure you can appreciate my concern over what you’re talking to Valdemar about,” Jupiter says.
“If he hasn’t told you, then it’s clearly none of your business,” I tell him, sounding braver than I feel.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” He takes a step towards me as I try to slip around him, and he reaches out.
“Don’t touch me.” It comes out louder than it sounded in my head, and I see beneath the glare that he knows I know about his gift.
“It’s clear that Valdemar has told you things, things he has no right telling you. I need to know what your intentions are.” His voice lowers, dangerously low.
“I don’t have any intentions. He asked me to come and see him, so I did.” I hold my ground.
“I know he wants to talk to you because of who you are, who your brother was, but I need to know that what he’s telling you isn’t going to be splashed across the front of the Amontillado Gazette .”
“Even if I did write about it, do you think anyone would believe me?” I say.
Jupiter eyes me, flexing his fingers, his jaw tensed. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t.” Like the flick of a whip, I turn and walk back down the freezer aisle.
Taking my time to steady my breathing, I circle and arrive back at the entrance to see Jupiter has left.
Is that all he’s worried about, keeping the secrets of the Raven Hands hidden? Or is there something else? It doesn’t sound like he trusts me—or Valdemar, for that matter. What is their relationship like? Does Jupiter want full control of the Raven Hands? He’s been the frontman for ten years while Valdemar has been locked up. Is he reluctant to let go of that power now that Valdemar is to be released? Or is he going to fight to retain it by whatever means necessary?
I climb into my black car and pull out the note I’ve been keeping in my bag, wondering if these are the words of Jupiter Prospero.