Reiker for Hire: Murder in the Cards

By Sylvia Rose

A fortune teller cannot go wrong when she predicts murder, and calls on Reiker to find the killer(s).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sylvia Rose
• Release date: Sep 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215567449

Sylvia Rose

Hello from Canada! My stories and books are inspired by Germanic history, myth and magic. Being first generation Canadian with German heritage I also heard many fascinating tales growing up. You'll find plenty in the Lora Ley Fantasy Fiction Series. And, just finished Reiker For Hire, a thrilling Victorian detective crime novella trilogy.In process is a Bronze Age adventure Cult of the Fire God, in which heroine Kah'ni must leave her northern European home near the Baltic. She journeys south in a desperate quest to find her sister Shana. Hit the image link below to learn more.Visit me on Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.ca/SylviaRoseBooks/My other links are below.Click any book cover to go to the work and read a free sample! My books are always free for libraries from the Smashwords site.Be sure to peruse my blog, link below, where I post background information and reading for my novels & novellas, everything from common herbs to magic and spiritual beliefs, everyday life, natural health of ancients, gemstones, trade routes and trade goods, mythology, rituals, sacrificial rites and thriving urban centers from Neolithic, Bronze Age; German myths and history, beliefs and practices.Enjoy.

Book preview

Reiker For Hire Murder Mysteries

Murder in the Cards

Copyright 2023 Sylvia Rose, Smashwords Edition

all rights reserved

Distributed by Smashwords

Reproduction of this work in whole or in part in any manner without express written consent is prohibited

Reiker For Hire Murder Mysteries

Murder in the Cards

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

ChapterThree

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

About the Author

Author Website

Blog

Other Books by Sylvia Rose

Reiker For Hire – Death Cruise

Reiker For Hire – Hotel of Horror

Lora Ley Fantasy Fiction Series

Gypsy Violin

CHAPTER ONE

German Empire, August 1896

Limelight pierced the darkness. Murmurs faded and the audience grew still. Every eye riveted to the stage. The moment lengthened. A drum rolled. Into the eerie glow stepped an elegant man in top hat and a sweeping cloak. A dark mustache curled upon his upper lip. His eyes gleamed. He bowed.

And now, my friends, said he in a rich rolling accent, I present for you my most famous feat of magic. Welcome back my assistant, the lovely Lulu! He made a grand gesture and stepped aside.

Nothing happened.

Backstage, the lovely Lulu cursed as she tried to adjust her strapless costume and apply lip rouge at the same time. An able-bodied helper patted powder into her cleavage. She knocked away his hand.

Onstage, the magician smiled. Perhaps she needs encouragement, ladies and gentleman. This is a fearsome feat.

The audience applauded loudly.

Out of my way, you little slimeball, said the lovely Lulu as she elbowed her way through the mess of the dressing room, into the hall and up the back stairs of the stage. The helper sighed and began to pick up costumes.

Ah, said the magician with a graceful flourish, here she is now. He stepped out of the limelight and mouthed a few nasty words as Lulu traipsed onstage. Her costume sparkled like a thousand stars. A sheen of light stroked the length of her silk stockings. She held her feathered headpiece on with one hand, wriggled her shoulders and dazzled the audience with her smile.

Lights came up on stage. A black-clad stage hand wheeled in an ominous box. Painted with a flourish it read The Great Mancini. Lulu gestured as the stage hand wheeled in a gleaming row of fencing sabers.

You will notice, said the Great Mancini, flexing one of the sabers, that these, unlike the epee and foil, are sharpened on both sides as well as the tip. He held it down to a man in the front row. Try that, Sir, you look like a fencing master. Careful, Madam, don't cut yourself. He brought it back up and held it before him.

Others do this feat with just the tip sharpened, he said. You didn't pay to see that, did you? You want the real thing!

The audience applauded.

And you shall have it, ladies and gentlemen! He swung open the door to the box. Now, the lovely Lulu will step into the box …

She shook her head. The audience laughed.

Come my dear, said the magician. We've been through this. It's perfectly safe.

She shook her head and took a step back.

What are you doing? hissed the Great Mancini. Get in the box!

Uh, uh, she said. I'm not getting in there.

People laughed. The magician tried to contain the flush creeping up his cheeks. This isn't how we rehearsed it. He smiled graciously at the audience and turned back to Lulu with gritted teeth. You're ruining my show.

Uh, uh. I went to a fortune teller today. She said beware of close confined spaces. She indicated the box.

If I were you, said the magician, I'd beware of another close confined space – the poorhouse. Now get in there! He gestured to the crowd. Give her some encouragement!

People applauded. With reluctance, the lovely Lulu crept inside.

The magician closed the box. He turned to the audience. As you know, the Great Mancini is a man of danger, flirting with death at every turn! And so, not only shall I thrust these murderous double edged sabers into the box containing the lovely Lulu, I'll do it blindfolded!

A gasp of horror went through the crowd. The magician asked a random audience member to blindfold him with a silk scarf. He ran his hands over the box. His questing fingers found the slit through which the saber would fit. With practiced finesse he thrust the saber through the hole. Lulu screamed and the tip protruded from the other side.

Feeling his way, the Great Mancini turned and picked up another saber from the row. He flexed it. The audience held its collective breath and the magician found another hole in the box, stabbed twice and thrust the saber through. He continued until all twelve sabers were sheathed in the cubic wood coffin.

Shocked into silence, the audience gaped. A red ribbon of blood flowed from the box and pooled in a shining puddle onstage. The magician gestured to the box, tore off his blindfold and cried, Behold!

No one moved. The Great Mancini looked where everyone else was looking, and saw the flowing stream of blood. Oh no, he cried. Lulu! He flung open the door of the box.

Lulu lay limp between the sabers, her sparkly costume drenched red, silk stockings torn. Blood streaked her arms and legs. Mancini pulled her from the box. Her head lolled.

Now, whispered the magician.

With a bright smile Lulu leapt to her feet, and a sigh went through the audience as she twirled around unwounded. She spit out a blood capsule. Mancini took her hand.

And so, ladies and gentlemen … They bowed together and the magician sent her offstage. The illusion is complete. But was it an illusion? Perhaps, with the help of your collective consciousness, we brought her back from the dead. He raised a gloved finger. Good night, friends. And, he continued in a sinister tone. Sleep well.

The lights went out. Everyone screamed. Ushers turned the house lanterns up. The show was over.

Reiker followed the chattering crowd out of the Rialto. Along Theater Row, cobblestones glistened with recent rain. A nearby coffee house offered strong coffee and blackberry pie. He navigated the noisy throng and sat at the counter. Waitstaff, idle until the shows let out, now worked the packed tables in an orderly frenzy. Coffee bubbled and scents of powder, perfume and pipe tobacco filled the air.

Can't fool me, said a young man at a nearby booth. I knew she wasn't dead.

It was kind of lame, said another.

Does she have to get a new costume every time? wondered a young lady.

I enjoyed it, said a second woman, smiling at her date. The comedy bit was fun.

Yes, the rest of the show's overly dramatic.

They continued their critique. Reiker sipped his coffee black and glanced around the booths and tables. Well-dressed heads bobbed, jewelry twinkled, skirts rustled, men turned cufflinks to the light and tried to outdo each other with tales and jokes. Trays of fancy desserts circulated.

He glanced at his pocket watch. Just after nine. He finished his coffee and went for a stroll by the river. Lamps burned brightly, casting warm reflections on the shimmering water. He turned his face to the evening breeze.

The Mittelstadt River flowed around town, then meandered north to the Rhine. Night birds flew low over the water. A half moon beamed in the starry sky. Reiker sat on a bench and watched the river ripple.

Before long a woman appeared in the hazy night. A turban style hat with a feather tamed her dark tresses. Lamps glowed behind her as she approached, a sinuous silhouette in swaying skirts.

Leaning over, she asked him for a light. He stood, struck a match and obliged. She inhaled and blew a steam of smoke out over the river. As she walked on Reiker strolled beside her.

Well? she said in a voice like a purring cat.

You're right, he said, the girl was murdered.

She started to speak and he stopped her.

It was part of the act, he said. She came out alive and well.

Madame Inga Zolita looked at him sharply. And afterward?

He shrugged. I didn't go to her dressing room to check, if that's what you mean, but judging from the way she danced around, she's perfectly healthy.

I don't understand, she said. The cards are never wrong.

You said you predicted a murder last week?

Yes. You must believe me. That banker. Shot dead as he left the bank.

Saw the obituary. Who placed it?

My powers of sight do not extend so far, Herr Reiker.

I just get the feeling, said Reiker. You're not telling me the whole story.

Reality has many facets, said Madame Zolita.

Reiker nodded. I understand your concern, he said, but coincidence happens.

She paused and appraised him. I said a murder would occur on that street and it did. There are no coincidences, Herr Reiker.

Call it what you will.

Madame Zolita reached into her beaded purse and pulled out a bracelet of gold. This is all I have. Will it cover a few more days?

In the dim light Reiker turned over the gold bracelet, an ornate bangle. Worth a few Marks. He shook his head and gave it back to her. You've paid already. You have me til the end of the week.

She sighed with relief. There's been another one, she said.

He raised his eyebrows. Another murder?

Another prediction.

I see. They reached the end of the boardwalk, turned and went back. People passed by, out for a stroll in the clear cool night. It was a break in the recent rain and spirits were high.

The woman is wealthy. It was she gave me this. She indicated the bangle and put it back into her purse. I saw murder in the cards, Herr Reiker.

What did you tell her?

She should agree to the divorce.

You think so?

The cards never lie, Herr Reiker. She stubbed out her cigarette.

He waited. What do you want me to do?

Stop the murder.

Right. He pulled out his notebook and a fountain pen. So she's the one to be murdered?

I don't know. The cards predict a murder during an alignment of mercurial elements within twenty-four hours.

Reiker uncapped the fountain pen. A splotch of ink soaked into the paper. Do the cards know the murder victim?

Not very well. But signs point to a social occasion, and I'll be at a garden party tomorrow afternoon. The Baroness von Firtzenberg hires me for most of her events.

I need names, address, the basics. Ink drops sprayed. Madame Zolita took a step back. Finally, Reiker scratched the information into his notebook with the pen nib, and made a mental note to get a pencil.

It's the big estate on the edge of town, she said. The half-timbered white house with blue shutters. Canapés, idle chat, floral centerpieces and wine tasting. Frau Elissa von Firtzenberg and her husband the Baron are hosting.

You're there all day?

She nodded. I'm part of the entertainment. There's also a string quartet from Stuttgart and an elephant.

Elephant.

Yes, it comes with an African handler and gives rides around the estate. She adjusted her shawl. If you attend as a guest, Herr Reiker, you can speak with both von Firtzenbergs.

Reiker made a face. Social events and small talk were not his cup of tea. Think of something else. How about security?

She clapped her gloved hands. Perfect. I'm setting up at two and the do starts at three.

After asking a few more questions, Reiker escorted Madame Zolita to a main street and flagged down a hack. As it trundled away he stuck his hands in his pockets and walked through the old part of Mittelstadt, the cobbled square overlooked by tall narrow houses, to his office downtown.

It wasn't the best location, but not the worst, either. Wan light came from a wall lamp in the small lobby. The wood stairs creaked underfoot as Reiker went to his home away from home.

He opened the office door and lit a lamp. Part of the inside wall was missing. Two months ago the manageress had promised running water. Now the pipes collected dust. Reiker poured water from the pitcher into the washbasin. He avoided the manageress because he owed rent, and she avoided him because she didn't want to pay for the water work, and they were at an impasse.

Reiker eyed his