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The Golden Eagle

Christine Everson
Christine Everson

Jun-22-2009 17:54

It was early evening as I headed home. I was tired, having just finished a case earlier that day. I'd debated on whether to go to the Tricky Mister for a drink first, but the need for sleep won over. Getting a paper from a newsboy, as the day had kept me quite busy, I paused beneath a street lamp and scanned the front page for a moment. Apparently there had been a robbery at some well-to-do's place, and the owner had been killed in the process. Sounded interesting.
Tucking the paper underneath my arm, I continued home, deciding to check things out once I had some sleep.


Sister Rosetta
Sister Rosetta

Jun-22-2009 21:04

The next day, I headed to the scene of the crime: Lexington Mansion. It was built in 1882 by Pius Lexington II, a wealthy oil magnate who had amassed a large fortune. When he died, his son Todd inherited the estate, the fortune, and the business. When Lexington Oil went bankrupt shortly after Black Tuesday, Todd became reclusive and his wife, Elmira, was forced to become the family breadwinner. After Elmira’s tragic death from pneumonia in 1935, Todd Lexington committed suicide with his father’s own handgun, leaving everything to his eldest son, Nathaniel. It was Nathaniel Jackson Lexington who lay dead, sprawled awkwardly on a Persian rug next to a magnificent stone fireplace. Blood pooled and seeped into the intricate fibres from a fatal head injury caused by some sort of blunt instrument. The investigating officer, Paul Dutton, clicked his tongue and shook his head when I arrived.

“Shocking, isn’t it? He never stood a chance from the looks of it. Death was instantaneous. To lose a life over a silly pendent...”

“A pendant?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes, quite. The Golden Eagle was its name. It belonged to the deceased’s mother; it was given as a gift by her husband, Pius Lexington II. I presume you know of him?”

“Yes,” I said tersely. “Was the Golden Eagle... valuable?” I realized that the answer seemed painfully obvious, but Inspector Dutton didn’t mind.

“I believe so. No use in committing coldblooded murder over a worthless trinket. The eagle was made from 24 carat gold.”

I whistled. Pius Lexington II had been a rich man, indeed.

“So, what’s next, Inspector? Have you found any people of interest?”

Sister Rosetta
Sister Rosetta

Jun-22-2009 21:33

Dutton thumbed through his notebook, tapping his pen on various pages.

“Yes, quite a few. I don’t know if any of them committed the murder and stole the pendant, but they’re all worth having a talk to. My first person of interest is Rubber Evans, the local vagrant. Shifty fellow, so I hear. He’s also a good friend of that shady character at the Tricky Mister. My men will bring him to us.”

About fifteen minutes later, a scruffy-looking old man was shoved into the room. He carried a thick tree branch with him, and he wore a dirty stovepipe top hat. His right eye was lazy, and was permanently fixed in one direction while his other eye darted nervously around the room.

“You ain’t got nuttin’ on me, ya know. I didn’t do anytin’ bad. Jus’ bein’ normal ole’ Rubber Evans, lookin’ for pennies.”

“Why are you called ‘Rubber Evans?’” I asked.

“M’body can go places yours can’t,” he grinned. He contorted himself into an uncomforting position, and I averted my eyes in disgust. No human body should have that kind of flexibility.

“Yes, thank you for that,” frowned the Inspector. “I’d like to know of your whereabouts on the evening of June the 18th.”

Evans caressed his tree branch lovingly. “Had a date wit’ Bunny Betty, I did.”

“Who’s Bunny Betty?”

“Bunny Betty.”

“But who is"“

The Inspector stopped in midsentence when Rubber Evans slumped forward in his chair, his branch falling to the ground with a loud THUMP. Blood trickled from his mouth, both of his eyes now permanently frozen. He was as dead as a Dodo.

“What the hell just happened?!” Inspector Dutton shouted.

Christine Everson
Christine Everson

Jun-22-2009 23:51

The next day, my first stop was Lexington Mansion. While I hadn't dealt with robbery before, murder was something I'd become quite familiar with. It didn't take long to reach the place, cops were milling around, and I even spotted some who may have likely been in my field.
Moving through the rooms, I arrived at the scene of the crime. The first thing that caught my eye were that there wasn't just one stiff, there was another, substantially less posh looking one as well.
Turning my gaze to the only other living people in the room, I crossed my arms and said, "Mind filling me in on the details?"

Sister Rosetta
Sister Rosetta

Jun-23-2009 16:41

I sighed and asked Miss Everson if she wanted anything to drink.

“Did the posh stiff own any whiskey?”

I went into the kitchen, trying to find the place where all of the alcohol was kept. That was when I bumped into a tall, solemn man in a tuxedo.

“Yes?” he asked in a clipped British voice.

“Uhh. Hello. I am Sister Rosetta, a detective investigating the death of Nathaniel Lexington. Who might you be?”

The tuxedoed man bowed his head and set a glass down on the counter. “Simmons. I was Mr. Lexington’s valet.”

“Ah. Well, my condolences, sir. I was looking for some whiskey. There has been... an unusual occurrence... in the parlour, and a comrade of ours has requested some.”

Simmons sighed and went over to one of the many cabinets. He opened it and pulled out a bottle. He poured some into a glass, and handed it to me.


I made my way back into the parlour, where Inspector Dutton was leaning over Rubber Evans’ body. Christine Everson was examining Mr. Lexington’s body and humming to herself.

“Here you are, Miss Everson. Now, Inspector, what can you tell us about poor Rubber Evans’ demise?”

Dutton straightened himself and scribbled into his notebook. “I’m no doctor, but I can tell that he died from cerebral hemorrhage. Most likely caused by a stroke.”

“So the filthy stiff wasn’t murdered,” said Miss Everson as she sipped her whiskey.

“Evidently,” Dutton mumbled. “A natural death. At the most inopportune time, too!”

“We need to find that Bunny Betty he was talking about before he died,” I said.

“Bunny Betty?”

We all turned to Miss Everson, who smiled knowingly.

“What do you know about her?” Inspector Dutton asked immediately.

Christine Everson
Christine Everson

Jun-24-2009 16:11

Setting the drink down, I folded my arms and began to pace. It always did help me concentrate.

"I don't know a lot, but Bunny Betty runs the Rabbit Ear Club. Real shady place, I hear folks from La Cosa Nostra frequent the joint."

I stopped, and looked down at Lexington's body. "I got a friend who used to run with Betty a while back, she could probably tell you more."

Sister Rosetta
Sister Rosetta

Jun-24-2009 21:08

Inspector Dutton consulted his notebook while Christine picked up her drink.

“Well... I suppose we could pop out for a bit and look into this Bunny Betty business. But we still have all these suspects to interrogate...”

I sat myself down and thought about our predicament. “Me and Miss Everson could go and speak with her friend. It shouldn’t take us very long. Then we’ll stop by the Rabbit Ear to check up on Bunny Betty. Meanwhile, you could continue interrogating your list of suspects, Inspector, and we’ll eventually rejoin you and we’ll exchange information.”

Dutton shrugged. “Sounds good. Alright, ladies. See you later.”

Christine finished her whiskey and beckoned me to follow her. We got out of the house and into her automobile.

“Let me drive, Miss Everson. The whiskey may have impaired you somewhat.”

She didn’t argue the fact, so we were off in a matter of minutes.

“Where does your friend live?” I asked her.

“My friend’s name is Lydia Dawson. She’s just a few blocks away from here, coincidentally. I’ll tell you when to turn and such.”

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

“Christine! It’s been a while!”

I smiled awkwardly as Christine and Lydia Dawson embraced on the doorstep. We were invited in after I introduced myself.

“So, what are you two sleuths doing in my humble abode?”

“We’ve come to talk to you about Bunny Betty,” Christine said casually.

“Oh.” Lydia seemed perplexed at the mention of her former coworkers’ name. “What about her?”

“Well, it’s like this. We’re looking into Nathaniel Lexington’s murder and the theft of a priceless treasure of his. One of the suspects mentioned that he was with Bunny Betty at the time of the robbery and homicide, but he died suddenly of a stroke before he could elaborate. We thought you might tell us more about her,” I said.

Sister Rosetta
Sister Rosetta

Jun-24-2009 21:31

Lydia nodded. “I see. Well, what can I say? Betty’s a go-getter. She loves her establishment, and the money just keeps flowing into her arms. Dependable woman, but harebrained.”

“What sort of establishment is the Rabbit Ear?” I asked inquisitively.

“Hmm? You didn’t know? It’s a burlesque house.”

Surprisingly, the fact didn’t seem to faze me.

“So... do you know where we could find the place?” I asked.

Lydia laughed. “Of course I do. My, Christine, your friend doesn’t seem at the top of her game today.”

I blushed. Two stupid questions in a day. I really was on a roll.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

The Rabbit Ear Club looked like a modest place. Anyone could have mistaken it for an innocent bar. When we ventured closer to the entrance, however, the atmosphere became bawdy and rather unpleasant. A bouncer looked at us with interest but said nothing. We went inside and asked a girl in a frilly dress for Bunny Betty.

“Wanna see Miss Betty, do ya now? Well, I guess I can take ya dames to her.”

She led us up a flight of stairs to a secluded little room where a woman sat in a chair, smoking a cigarette.

“Some dames askin’ for ya, Miss Betty.”

Bunny Betty eyed us thoughtfully, and nodded to the girl. She left us without another word.

“So, ladies. How can I help you?”

Her voice was rough and jarring. I deduced that she was a chain smoker.

“Hello Miss Betty. My name is Christine Everson, and this is my associate, Sister Rosetta. We’re detectives investigating the murder of Nathaniel Lexington and the theft of a priceless treasure of his. Apparently a suspect of ours, one Rubber Evans, was with you on the night of the 18th of June. Could you corroborate his alibi?”

Betty took a drag of her cigarette. “Yeah, Rubber Evans was with me. He was an... interesting fellow if I ever saw one.”

Something she said sounded off. I hit upon it in a matter of seconds.

Sister Rosetta
Sister Rosetta

Jun-24-2009 21:32

“Excuse me, Miss Betty. Just now you referred to Rubber Evans in the past tense. But Miss Everson here didn’t give any indication that he had died.”

Bunny Betty’s expression reminded me of a scared little rabbit caught in a trap. I was interested in hearing what she had to say for herself.

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