The Midnight Club: Chapter One

The Office of Detective Drake

The offices of Detective Drake and Jeremy Fisher stank of cologne, beer, and cigars. Not that Richard Drake minded, as he took yet another puff of his cigarette as he stared at the case file. After three long days of searching, he’d finally found the lost heiress and returned her to her family. Another case closed. So why did he feel so incomplete? He stared at the case file and all he could see was a pair of almond eyes angrily looking up at him. It had been three months to the day that Indira Rao had left his apartment and his arms and he still found himself remembering their last fight, the last time she had been with him.

The way she had felt against him. The love they had shared. Loving her had never been hard, it had been the whole sharing lives with someone who ran after stories no matter how dangerous they were. He had hated seeing her in the thick of danger, and after the last run-in with gangsters; he had been fed up. He had asked her to stop or to leave him. And after a late night at the office, he had come home to find out that she had chosen to leave him rather than stop her career.

The door of the office slammed open and his partner Jeremy Fisher walked in, dropping a copy of the newspaper on Richard’s desk. “Have you seen today’s headlines?” Jeremy said as he perched on top of his desk, grabbing an apple from his fruit basket and taking a huge chomp out of it.

“Let me guess, more gangster turf wars?” Richard said glancing at Jeremy before reaching for the paper. Ever since Indira left him for the Tribune he had made a point of not looking at the news. Jeremy was aware of this. He glanced down at the paper and noticed that the lead story was about a murder.

“You’d think so, but they are still talking about the girl that got murdered. The runaway heiress.” Jeremy said. “So yet another runaway rich girl got murdered, what’s the big deal?” Richard asked.

“The Big deal is what the papers aren’t saying.” A melodic voice said from the doorway. Richard and Jeremy both looked at the girl, with red curls pinned up and a long green overcoat, with matching velvet boots she could’ve been anyone’s daughter. But Jeremy jumped off his desk with a smirk.

“The singer's siren of the Midnight Club. It is an honor.” Jeremy said with an exaggerated bow. I swallowed as I looked at the girl she was unbelievably beautiful that it made him get an immediate migraine. Beautiful girls were the worst. He knew that better than most. He squashed the sudden thought of Indira looking up at him in bed and straightened up in his chair. The girl had scowled at Jeremy’s reaction and turned to look at him, approaching his desk.

“My name is Gemma. And I need your help. I’ve heard you are discreet and don’t mind dealing with things outside the Police’s jurisdiction.” Gemma said boldly. Richard and Jeremy exchanged glances. The Police is right, that girl’s body was dumped there on purpose, but it’s not what you think. She was a singer at The Midnight Club. We had no choice but to move her body.” Gemma said. Jeremy narrowed his eyes. “So that the Club would be safe.” He said glaring at her. “This girl was an innocent,” Jeremy said.

“Your right. But she wasn’t like me. She had a home. She chose to run and never go back. She chose to sing at the Midnight Club, knowing it was illegal. She shouldn’t have died, she should have been safe at home. She was only fifteen. I told her the Club was dangerous. But she had always wanted to be a jazz singer, so she stayed. Sal, the owner of the club moved her body. He thought her family should know that she was never coming back.” Gemma said with tears in her eyes.

“What is The Midnight Club?” Richard asked, glancing at Jeremy who rolled his eyes. “You really need to get out more,” he said with a sigh. “The Midnight Club is a jazz club that opens at Midnight and closes at 5 am.” He explained.

“Oh, it’s a Speakeasy?” Richard asked. He knew that with the rise of Liquor being illegal, all the bars had gone underground. Richard had never gone to The Midnight Club, but he frequented Room 13 a speakeasy located in The Lexington Hotel.

“There’s no need to look so worried, we’ve dealt with those clubs before, and it’s rare that there’s someone who doesn’t frequent a speakeasy. What can we do for you today?” Jeremy said, leaning back on his desk, continuing to chomp on his apple.

“I know everyone believes that Kassandra’s murder was just some lover’s quarrel gone wrong or possibly some rogue customer, but The Midnight Club is extremely strict with who they let inside. They don’t let anyone with a prior problem with any of the girls allowed in. And Kassandra was my friend we didn’t have secrets. I know she didn’t have a problem with anyone. She was a sweetheart.” Gemma said.

“She was also murdered three days ago. Why are you coming to us now?” Jeremy asked, frowning. “She was the start of the murders. Another girl was killed last night, and this morning I found my roommate murdered in her bed. I think someone is trying to send me a message.” Gemma said. “I need to find out who murdered these girls. I need to get justice for them. Otherwise, I think I’m going to be next.” She said.

“Alright, of course, we’ll help you,” Richard said.

“I think I even might know where you can start,” Gemma said. “I think Antonio Serrano killed these girls.” She said. Richard’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Jeremy before looking back at Gemma, astonished. “I’m sorry. Do you mean Shades Serrano? The gangster?” Richard asked. Gemma frowned. “You know him?” She asked. “Richard’s dealt with him before,” Jeremy said with a smile. Richard scowled. Antonio ‘Shades’ Serrano was the main part of the story Indira had always followed. He was the reason Indira had left him.

“Serrano is dangerous.” He said looking at Gemma darkly. “I think that’s an understatement,” Gemma said.

“Why do you think Serrano has anything to do with this?” Jeremy asked. “Because he has been trying to court me for months. And three days after I refused his proposal, one of my closest friends was found dead. Even before this happened, I felt like I was being watched. Being followed. The other girls that were murdered after Kassandra had red hair like me, and the singer before her could’ve passed for my twin.” Gemma said, tears filling her eyes.

Richard glanced at Jeremy and they both nodded at each other. “We can follow up, see if we can figure out what’s going on,” Richard said. “I’ll go talk to Serrano,” Jeremy said, tossing his apple in the wastebasketwastebasket. “I’ll go check out the club, see if we can see anything amiss,” Richard said, getting up and outing his cigarette, pulling on his jacket, and grabbing his hat.

“I can take you. We leave the club open during the day, as just a lounge, before opening as a bar at midnight.” Gemma said getting up and sliding her bag over her shoulder. “So they’ll be people I can question?” Richard asked. “Yes, exactly,” Gemma said, following Richard out the door. She hesitated, turning back to look at Jeremy. “Be careful, Serrano isn’t known for his pleasantness.” She said. Jeremy smiled. “Don’t worry. I know how to deal with the likes of him.”

The Midnight Club

Gemma watched from the bar as Richard surveyed the club, he walked into the back rooms all the way to the offices upstairs, and the washrooms on the main level, before coming back to the front room and taking a cursory glance at the guests before walking back to Gemma. As a lounge singer Gemma was used to people staring at her, she’d seen the hungry leers of men and sometimes women, the kind stares of the people she saw every day. But the wary way Richard looked at her gave her unease. It was almost as if he didn’t see her, not as a woman, or girl, just another job he had undertaken. Gemma watched as he froze, looking at one woman at the bar before he shook himself off and joined her.

“I didn’t find anything suspicious in the dressing room, which isn’t that surprising but I did hear one of the girls talking about how you and the girl Kassandra started singing here when you were thirteen?” Richard said patting the notepad against his palm. “Yeah. The owner Sal adopted me off the street. And Kass ran from her home when she was nine. Why? Is that significant?” Gemma asked her heart skipping at his words. Richard put his pad back in his pocket.

“Is there anyone here today who doesn’t come here normally? Places like this usually have a normal crowd in the middle of the day. You would know, you’ve worked here for long enough.” Richard asked. Gemma looked around the place, her eyes resting on the dark-haired woman in a knee-high skirt and blood-red blouse. The same woman that Richard had frozen at, making her curious. “Her. She doesn’t usually come here. But I’ve seen her thrice in the last week. She was here the night Kassandra was found dead.” Gemma said her eyes curious.

“Do you know her?” She asked. Richard looked at her blankly. “I saw you startle when you saw her before you came to talk to me,” Gemma stated. Richard visibly tensed. “I used to know her. It’s not good that she’s here.” He said, turning on his heel and making his way to the woman. Gemma curiously followed him. “Indie?” Richard said, his tone grim, as the girl raised starting hazel eyes at him, and smiled charmingly at his sudden appearance.

“Detective Drake. How lovely to see you again.” Indira said dragging out her words and making them sound sickly sweet. She glanced behind Richard at Gemma and smiled even wider. “Gemma, isn’t it? The young singing starlet. Rumor has it you were here the night Kassandra Clark was killed.” She said, her eyes looking at Gemma sharply. Who glared at her in return. “Not much of a surprise, seeing as you were here that night, what did you do go sneaking around the back rooms?” Gemma said.

“It might interest you to know that I wasn’t the only one,” Indira said, her bright red lips curling into a sneer. “What do you mean? Who did you see?” Richard asked, crossing his arms. “Why, the mysteriously alluring Antonio Serrano,” Indira said looking at Gemma who went white. “He was there?” she whispered.

“Yes, that night you avoided looking towards the bar, but Antonio was looking at you quite intensely. There’s a rumor that you turned him down, and suddenly all the other pretty little singers are suddenly dying. Or do you deny that there have been other deaths after Kassandra?” Indira said.

Richard sucked in a breath. “Indira.” He said breathily.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, Kass was my friend, as were the other girls,” Gemma said, anger sparking dangerously in her voice. “That’s exactly my point. I’m not implying anything. I’m just trying to get the story. The true story, whatever that might be.” Indira stated. Gemma scoffed. “You’re a Journalist,” Gemma said darkly.

“Chicago Tribune. Indira Rao.” She said putting her hand out for a shake. Gemma clasped her hand tightly, her eyes dark. “The death of my friends is not a story.” She said in a near growl, before storming off. “Well, that could’ve gone better,” Indira said with a smirk. “You just can’t help but antagonize people, can you?” Richard said, looking at Indira searchingly. He couldn’t help but gaze at the object of his daydreams.

“In pursuit of the truth? No, I can’t help it.” Indira said. “What are you doing here? With her?” She said glancing at where Gemma had disappeared darkly. “Does it matter who I’m with?” Richard said, watching as Indira’s face flushed red. “You made your choice.” He said. “There’s a story here. And I’m going to understand it.” She said snidely before walking away, her heels hitting the floor angrily. Richard watched her walk away and stormily finished her drink, shaking his head. “Friend of yours?” The bartender, a fair-haired woman with a distinctive beauty mark by her lip and said, as she filled a whisky sour and handed it to him.

“That obvious?” Richard asked, taking a swig of the drink. “She’s my wife.” He explained. “Aren’t you full of surprises? Though, I’d be angry too if I saw my spouse with Gemma.” She said. “Is Gemma often seen with other husbands?” Richard asked quirking an eyebrow. “Not by choice.” The girl said.

“My name is Dorothy Mers. But you can call me Dottie. Gemma is young and attractive; you know what that entails? A lot of unwanted attention. I’m not surprised that girls have been getting murdered. Sometimes men, don’t understand when no means no.” She said pointedly. “But three girls all within the same week? That’s a pattern.” She said raising an eyebrow and moving to another customer. Richard set his glass down and walked to the clearly labeled restrooms and nearly walked into a mid-forties man with salt and pepper hair. Richard assessed him for a moment. “You wouldn’t happen to be Sal by any chance?” He asked, making the man glance at him. “Salvador Jose. And you are?” he asked.

“Richard Drake, Private Eye. Might I have a moment of your time?”

“Gemma went to a private eye?” Sal said, leaning back in his chair. “I am surprised.” He said, resting his hands on his protruding belly. “Three of her friends are found dead, all beautiful singers like herself. Are you really surprised that she would be so concerned?” Richard asked. He didn’t like the look of Sal, who seems unconcerned at three murdered girls at his place of work. Just like the barkeep, they seemed to think it was a natural state of course. “You got to understand, most of these girls are runaways. Runaways with beautiful voices but are still single women. Without men or family in their life, no one is going to really care if they die. Not when they are so easily replaceable.” Sal said.

Richard frowned. “Like Gemma? Are you saying that Gemma’s death would be of no consequence?” Richard asked, watching as Sal froze, his eyes darkening. “Gemma is not those girls. They were alone. Gemma has me.” Sal said furiously.

Richard narrowed his eyes. “I hope that’s true. Either way, your singers are dying one by one. If you really cared for Gemma, you would understand why she is fearful for being the next one to die.” Richard said getting up, buttoning his Jacket up as he did. “Thank you for your time, I’ll see myself out.”