Neon is the Colour of Vengeance (Flappers and False Gods)

THE PEEPSHOW

Spectator Sport was located in the seediest part of the Pleasure Quarter. With Tenebrium’s culture of excess and the legality of sex work, the venue was the last of a dying breed. Specifically for those who enjoyed Voyeurism, it was the only live peepshow in the city, the others having been edged out by full-service brothels.

‘LOOK. DON’T TOUCH’, was the motto and it was emblazoned above the entrance in flickering neon letters.

Having exhausted all subtler leads they could follow, Hugo decided to make a bolder move. He had fought hard for Evan to remain behind—and lost. Evan stood beside him in the tight and grubby street staring at the dilapidated metal door.

“Keep your head down and stay behind me. You can’t be seen,” Hugo said as he stepped forward and wrapped his knuckles smartly on the cold iron door.

A small slit near the top opened with a snap and a voice said, “Password?”

“Tom,” Hugo said begrudgingly.

Nonetheless the door swung open, and he and Evan stepped quickly inside.

The interior was jarring. It was like they had stepped into another rundown street. The walls were made of grimy brown bricks, defaced with lude graffiti. There were doors spaced equidistant along the passage, lined with windows that appeared to look into tiny studio apartments. Each window showed at least one person. Some acted as though they were home performing mundane tasks, others were performing sex acts, all were being watched through small round holes cut into the back walls of the faux apartments.

Ignoring the shows, Hugo led Evan to the door at the far end of the passage. Without knocking he opened it and entered, closing the door behind them.

Inside was an office of sorts. Ramshackle and filled with detritus, it was as seedy as everything else inside the club. Behind the cheap metal desk, a complete contrast to her office, was Chaya Johnson. The woman was the picture of elegance. Black and curvy with short pin curls, she was dressed head to toe in velvet and dripping in diamonds and pearls.

“Hey, pretty boy. You here for a show?” Her voice was smooth and warm. “And who is this?” Chaya’s eyes roved appraisingly over Evan like she could already taste the money he would make if he worked for her. “He lookin’ for a job?”

“He’s with me. Best forget you ever saw him.”

“Roger that,” Chaya said shrugging. “What can I do for you, Hugo? Here to deliver a message from on high?” She pulled a cigarette from a crystal dish on the desktop and lit it.

“Not today,” Hugo chuckled. “Just here for some info. Is the grim doctor in?”

“Flynn? Not right now. But he has a standing reservation with Candice.” She exhaled a plume of thick grey smoke.

“Who makes a reservation at a peep joint?”

“Hey, your family funds this ‘joint’.”

“I wasn’t judging.” It was true. As long as sexual activity took place safely between consenting adults, Hugo was firmly of the belief that whatever other people were into, kinks or vanilla, it was none of his business.

“But you never come around here. I bet I could find a man to tempt you.” She was only half serious. Chaya came around the desk to face Hugo. There was barely an inch in their heights. She looked him up and down with the keen eye of a businesswoman.

“I bet you could. Back to Flynn. When’s his next appointment?”

“Why do you want to know about Flynn? He’s big money here.”

“Sorry, I can’t tell you that.”

“Then my lips are sealed unless I get word from Samuel. Anonymity is everything in my business.”

“This is an off the books kind of thing…a personal favour to me.” Hugo took her hand in one of his.

“You’re pretty, but so is everyone else who works here. Save your bullshit for someone who needs it.” She pulled back and patted him roughly on the cheek.

“I’ve done a lot for you over the years.”

“And I am grateful, but those chits have long since been cashed in.”

“I won’t harm him in any way.”

“Not enough, I like my head without bullets in it.”

“What do you mean? I won’t have anyone hassling you. Is the doctor violent?”

“No, but your boss is. They have an arrangement. Flynn eats for free as it were. Samuel covers all his costs. You didn’t know?” Fear crept into Chaya’s eyes.

“I just need to talk to the guy.”

“Maybe we should just leave,” Evan said, speaking for the first time. He looked concerned, but not for himself, for Chaya. Both ignored him.

“Then go through Bobby.”

“If I could do that I wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, killer, but I don’t want any part of it. Visit him during office hours. My lips are sealed.” She stressed the last few words, the threat in her voice subtle but present.

Hugo let out a grim laugh. “Oh sure. I’ll just stroll right into the TPD. Maybe I’ll make a pit stop in the bullpen and wave at all the detectives.”

“Look, kiddo, the landscape of the underworld is changing. You have no idea what’s coming. I’m not getting on the wrong side of things for you.”

“I don’t care what’s coming. It’s above my pay grade. I just need info. I swear this is a tiny favour that has no possibility of blowing back on you.”

“Convince me,” Chaya said.

“Look, I’m just going to ask him for an autopsy report.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. I promise.”

Chaya still had reservations, Hugo could see it in her eyes, but she spoke nonetheless.

“He’ll be here around eight. You tell Samuel about this, and we’ll be having far less friendly words. You might be a killer, but I’m a queen.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Hugo bowed low in mock supplication. “This is an off the record deal.”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty, kid.”

“It’s nearly eight,” Evan said quietly next to Hugo.

“Then I’d better find Candice. You stay here. And you,” he said turning his attention to Chaya. “Hands off.”

Chaya smirked but nodded. “Don’t worry about your boytoy, he’s safe with me.”

Candice was a White woman in her fifties, with the reddest hair Hugo had ever seen. She had had it cropped into a short bob that perfectly framed her oval face. Her lips were painted the exact shade of her hair, as were her long, sharp nails. Her stage for the evening was a crime scene. The small room that formed the fake apartment her customers ‘peeped’ into was covered in a sticky red substance. There were evidence markers and police tape all over the ‘scene’.

When Hugo entered, she was covering herself in fake blood. “Who are you?” Candice asked with a start.

“I’m a friend of Chay’s. Your client tonight?—”

“I don’t see them. Ever. I don’t know anything.” Her speech had a rehearsed quality to it.

“I’m not asking you for anything. I’m just letting you know that if you hear anything from the viewing booth, tonight—no, you didn’t. Understand?”

“I understand.” And she went back to applying the fake blood.

Hugo pulled some credit chips from his wallet and laid them on a nearby counter. Candice took them with a small nod.

The viewing booth was behind a hidden door in the wall. It was a tight box room with a small slit that, if the client squinted, would allow them to peer into the room beyond. It was entirely black, the only light coming through the tiny viewing window. It was easy for Hugo to lurk in the dark waiting for Flynn. He didn’t have to wait long.

Cecil Flynn, the senior medical examiner for the Tenebrium Police Department was a cretin, but a useful one. He was White and slender, with a pallor reminiscent of the corpses he worked with and the perpetual sheen of sweat across his brow. He was skittish in the extreme, which worked in Hugo’s favour.

Hugo let the man get into the room and sit down. He was pre-emptively undoing his belt buckle when Hugo made himself known.

“Hello, Cecil,” Hugo said, stepping forth from the shadows.

Flynn jumped out of his skin, tumbling out of his chair into a sprawled heap on the floor. “Who are you? What do you—? Hugo?”

“It’s been a while. How have you been?”

“You haven’t been sent after me, have you? I did what Samuel asked. You tell him I did it.” Flynn spluttered with the air of a cornered animal.

“Oh, I will. Just as soon as you tell me something.”

“Anything. Anything you want.”

“You could get me an autopsy report, right?”

“Eh…yes. When do you need it?”

“Tonight.”

“Send me the details.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ll be leaving a trail like that. Get it for me and send it through the secure channel.”

“B-But we don’t have one…”

“I guess you’ll just have to drop it off then. After the show of course. I wouldn’t want to derail your whole evening.”

“Right. Who do you need to know about?”

“Julian Carter.”

Flynn nodded jerkily.

“I’ll see you later, then. Enjoy the show. Oh, and Flynn? Do wash your hands.”