"Well, yes. I mean, it seems terribly convenient, doesn’t it? He comes here because he knows women are being murdered. They’re all vagabonds or street people so nobody cares about them. Then he meets a girl who doesn’t fit that pattern — but sure enough, the killer takes an interest in her anyway."
Lazarus glanced toward her and that faint hint of a smile that he sometimes got reasserted itself before vanishing, like a thin wisp of smoke. "I’d wager that we only saw the real Max Davies at the end of that conversation. The moment he shared with us the details about those other murders, his demeanor changed. Before that, the bored playboy routine, the overly flirtatious act — it was just that. An act."
"So you think he might be the killer?"
"Oh, no. I don’t think that at all. I think he’s someone with genuine concern about these women but for some reason, he doesn’t want the world to know it. I’ll look into his background when I get the chance but for now, I don’t think we should waste our time focusing on him."
"What about the other men whose names were found with her body?"
"As we were leaving the station, I stopped to call the Assistance Unlimited HQ. Eun and Morgan have been looking into the other men who have been implicated in this."
Samantha nodded, looking out the passenger side window. She saw one gray-colored building after another. It looked like the entire city was slowly falling under a haze of decay. "That poor girl. No one should die like that. And to think that more women have died over the years, with no one missing them… It makes me wonder if we can ever really save this place. My grandparents used to tell me that Sovereign wasn’t always like this but nowadays it’s hard to believe that. There’s something rotten at the core of the city, Lazarus. It’s breeding murder, corruption and despair."
Samantha felt her employer’s hand settle on hers. He gave it a firm squeeze and when he spoke, there was unusual emotion in his words. "You’re right. The heart of Sovereign is spoiled. That’s why we’ve got to find the source of the evil and carve it out."
Chapter II
Men of Power
The death of Claudia Schuller was front-page news on every paper in the city. The Gazette ran two photos, one depicting Claudia on the day of her high school graduation and the other a grainy crime scene image with a body draped by a police blanket. The grisly details were listed in explicit detail, bringing fresh pain to the victim’s family and friends.
Speculation was rife. Though the names of the men implicated were not revealed in the papers, rumors linked virtually every prominent businessman in the city with the young woman. Stories circulated that she had been of loose morals and had traded her beauty for monetary gifts from the men.
"Read about de slain beauty! Police officials baffled as investigation continues! All de details included here! Will the killer strike again?"
A newsboy’s cry caught the attention of two men who were riding down Main Street in a taxi. One of the men — an elderly, gray-haired gentleman in a tweed suit — turned to his young companion and asked, "What’s this about a murder, Smithson? I didn’t hear anything about such a thing when we were coming in on the train yesterday."
"Young Miss Claudia Schuller was brutally murdered a few days ago," Smithson answered. He was a handsome man with dark hair and eyes. "The papers are abuzz with the news. It was quite awful, from what I’ve heard."
"I haven’t read any of today’s papers," remarked the elderly man. "Such a violent city," he added with a shake of his head.
Smithson waited for the question that he knew was inevitably going to come.
"Schuller, you say? Didn’t we meet her at the party thrown by Groseclose? Attractive young thing from his secretarial pool?"
Smithson nodded, his face drawn grave with concern. "We did, Mr. Melvin. She was quite generous in her praise of your revitalization efforts in the city’s East Side."
Donald Melvin bit his lower lip, his eyes taking on a faraway state. "Awful. To be cut down in the prime of life like that. She could have made some man very happy, you know."
Smithson said nothing, hoping that this turn of conversation wouldn’t ruin his employer’s mood. The meeting they were going to was an important one and Melvin sometimes lapsed into gloomy periods that impacted his decisions. Amalgamated Industries was Melvin’s pride and joy and it was currently involved in the removal of dozens of unsightly tenement buildings, replacing them with tremendous structures that towered over the landscape. In decades to come, people would point to Melvin’s work as a key part in the revitalization of Sovereign City.
Smithson and Melvin stepped from their cab and entered the lobby of The Amici Hotel, a massive building that occupied an entire block. One of the few new hotels to have opened since the Stock Market Crash of ’29, The Amici prided itself on an aristocratic atmosphere.
Within the gorgeous lobby, Smithson made an inquiry at the front desk and then informed Melvin that their meeting was being held on the twenty-fourth floor.
After traveling upward in an elevator, the two men stepped into a conference room where a small group was waiting for them. One by one, Smithson introduced Melvin to the men, even though in most cases, introductions were not truly necessary. It was a formality and one that the older men seemed to enjoy, as if it confirmed their importance in things.
Theodore Groseclose, publisher and chief editor of the Sovereign Gazette, was the first to shake Melvin’s hand. Groseclose was a tall, gray-haired man in a dark suit. He looked a bit unnerved and Melvin rightly assumed it was because of the death of the man’s secretary.
Also present was Robert Phillips, Chairman of the city’s Building Association. He was a bearlike man with a thick, bristled beard and piercing eyes.
The final man to whom Melvin was introduced was Merle Hansome, a wiry fellow with thinning hair and a nervous habit of licking his upper lip. One of the most prominent attorneys in the city, Hansome was very good at his job, despite not having the demeanor to put anyone at ease.
Phillips cleared his throat as everyone took a seat. He had a commanding presence and was obviously used to being in charge. "Let’s get this under way, shall we? You’ve looked over the papers we sent your way?"
Melvin nodded, waiting for Smithson to take out a pad and paper before continuing. "I have. Fifty million dollars is quite an investment. If I’m going to do as you ask, I have to receive certain assurances."
Groseclose leaned forward, clasping his hands together on top of the table. "You know I’ll do what I can for you, Mr. Melvin. I’ve kept all the news stories about what you’re doing in a positive light. It’s going to be a little bit tougher with this new deal, but I can swing it."
Smithson dutifully took notes while the men conversed. He was skilled enough in his craft that he could let his mind wander while his pencil spun across the page, distilling the conversation into shorthand. The three other men had approached Melvin with the idea of spearheading a plan to purchase the grounds on which a hospital for the poor now resided. The sick people who currently received treatment for their infirmities were going to be kicked to the curb if the plan bore fruit, but none of these men considered that worthy of stopping their plans. The men, women, and children who frequented the place were too poor to afford treatment at standard facilities, probably resulting in dozens of deaths.
But if things went to plan, a high-rise apartment building would pop up in its place. The bottom floors would contain expensive offices while the upper rooms were rented or sold to the lucky few who could afford them. It was all part of a long-term revitalization project and one that had sparked grumbling amongst those who had been displaced. Thankfully, Hansome had made sure that all the legalities were covered, while Phillips took care of all the required permits. Groseclose then handled the media side of things, ensuring that the general populace didn’t focus too much on the negative.