Free The Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay - Volume 1: Gallery of Rogues by Mike Cervantes

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    “Not quite the soiree’ I expected,” A voice from the left of Mary Jane spoke idly. She turned and saw her very close friend Chief Constable O’Gratin. He was holding his tobacco pipe the same way Mary Jane held her wine flute. “To my great surprise, the gentleman of the house doesn’t even own a phonograph.”
    “You’re a pleasant sight. Here, your collar is sticking out,” Mary Jane stopped to straighten the Constable’s clothing a little.
    “You’re quite the doting one. I suspect that means your husband isn’t about to absorb the attention,” The Constable made his accusation in a manner that was pleasant yet still fitting for a police officer.
    “No, he isn’t,” Mary Jane dismissed, “He was too pre-occupied with a project of his to attend.”
    “It’s just as well. His presence would only infuriate many of the people here,” The Constable shook his head regrettably. “I’ve taken the time to appreciate the man’s subtle charms, but a lot of the folks around here wouldn’t be able to look past their noses long enough to do the same.”
    “If I may ask, what are you doing here yourself?” Mary Jane continued in an idle tone.
    “There’s an important foreign dignitary on the grounds. I was asked here to keep a watch on him.” The Constable explained.
    “You’re not derelict in those duties?”
    “Not at all, he’s right over there,” The constable pointed with the tip of his pipe.
    Mary Jane looked over and saw a very thin man with a bird-like nose and pointed moustache. He was dressed in a black shirt, with a lavender vest underneath and a red rose in his lapel. He stood with his pronounced nose in the air, holding one arm akimbo and the other holding up a wine glass, making a wide “V” shape with his extended arm as long as the one at his waist.
    “He’s certainly an interesting looking fellow,” Mary Jane said, airing out the faintest hint of sarcasm.
    “His name is Hector Bellaco,” The Constable explained. “He’s one of the ambassadors to the Spanish monarchy, and a real hoity-toity aristocrat to boot. You know the type: fancies himself an artist, claims to be on the bleeding edge of some miraculous concept we plebeian civil servants can’t grasp.”
    “My ears are burning, Señor Constable!”
    Mary Jane looked from the Constable to Bellaco, who had apparently walked up to the two of them as they were talking. Mary Jane was surprised: there were very few people on this planet that could sneak up to her.
    “I should apologize for The Constable,” Mary Jane said apologetically. “He was only speaking off-handedly to a close friend.”
    “I understand completely.” Bellaco said dismissively. “I know better than to expect a kind word from someone asked to babysit me for an evening.”
    The Constable was silent, not wanting to make the situation any more heated, or embarrassing for him. He did, however, raise an eyebrow of concern when he saw the Spaniard take Mary Jane’s hand and give it a kiss. “I don’t believe I’ve yet had the opportunity to meet you, señora.”
    “Mary Jane Hedwater, the pleasure is all yours, I’m certain.” Mary Jane took her hand away, holding it aloft in wonder whether the strange foreigner had actually seen the diamond ring on her finger. He simply grinned, and tilted his head back, putting a hand to his chin.
    “You know, I only recall hearing of one prominent Mary Jane. She was the holder of the Preston millions.”
    “I am exactly the same person,” Mary Jane replied “Aside from my recent marriage. I don’t know much about Spanish custom, but here in England it’s pretty gauche to kiss the hand of a married woman.”
    “Is that so?” Bellaco scratched the back of his head, fortunately seeming a bit embarrassed as well. “I’m certain whoever was able to take your hand is a very lucky man.”
    “I like to think so,” Mary Jane said with a half grin.
    “And where is this husband of yours now?”