The Black Rose

Oops. I meant to post two short stories on Christmas day. I sort of forgot because I was engrossed in reading lots of new books. But free stuff is better late than never isn't it?

Anyway here is the first of two short stories that I am going to make available. Licensed under Creative Common 3,0 Share-Remix-Attribute.

The first short story is called The Black Rose and might be the start of a small series. Might be. Either way for me this was a bit of an experiment. You can download the pdf from here. Of course the whole story is also below.

The Black Rose

Will Ellwood

A Klaus Schenk Story

I had been eating my breakfast in the hotel suite when a porter knocked on the door with a telegram addressed to me. I took the telegram and paid him for bringing it to me. I was in the city to play violin for a private client and had only an afternoon to myself before the performance. After that I was due in the capital for another performance. However my movements are well documented in the press these days and my reputation always precedes me.

"Mr. K. Schenk services required. Employee murdered. Police not investigating. Wish your assistance. Will arrive 11AM for consultation. Mr. Baker," said the telegram.

I was annoyed that Mr. Baker would be arriving uninvited, as I had hoped to spend that morning practicing the pieces I would be playing in the evening. I readied myself for the man's visit and scanned through the newspaper's society pages to find out who the gentleman was.

A banker of some considerable wealth and scandal it seemed from a story about the weekends society ball. I waited patiently in my suite for the man to arrive. He Arrived on time. I greeted Mr. Baker, a small neat man, at the door and led him to the suite's dining table.

"Your telegram was interesting," I said.

"I thought you might be curious. You are aren't you? I can of course compensate you for your time."

I looked at my fingernails. "Compensation, aside from expenses incurred, won't be necessary. I just need to know a few facts before I begin my investigation."

"I'll tell you as much as I know."

"Good. Can you tell me about the murdered man?"

"His name was Hubert Cooper and he was a clerk at my bank. He went missing three days ago. I was informed last night that his body had been found in Central Park. He had no family; so they told me. However."

"However?"

"I have been harassed by a group of rival businessmen. They call themselves The Rose Club. I fear they might have murdered Hubert as a warning to me," explained Mr. Baker.

I thought about the man's claim. I had heard of The Rose Club and I had also read in the more lurid newspapers about their supposed activities. I accepted his offer and showed him out of the suite before going to find the porter who I hoped would be able to give me directions to the city morgue.

***

A young man in a shabby suit at the morgue's front desk greeted me with indifference. He was reading a racing newspaper and eating a cheese sandwich.

"Good afternoon sir. Is the pathologist in?"

"No. Dr. Moore is out to lunch. He won't be back for several hours."

"Might it be possible to examine a body within the mortuary while he is away?"

"Why would you want to do that?" He asked and then took a bite out of his sandwich.

"Inspiration."

"What for?"

I raised my right arm higher so it was clear I was holding a violin case to the man. "I am a musician and I am playing a particularly tragic piece of music tonight. Do you think you could help an artist?"

The young man looked at me. I put down the violin case and reached into my the inside pocket of my jacket. I took out a leaflet for an old performance which had my name on and a small bribe tucked between the folds of the paper. I gave it to him.

"My name is Klaus Schenk and I am a violinist. Now will you let me take a look inside the morgue? I only need ten minutes, alone, to gather up the appropriate atmosphere."

The young man looked inside the leaflet and then put it inside his own jacket. He stood up and walked to a set of double doors at the far end of the room behind his desk. "Certainly. Ten minutes only though. No funny business as well. You will get us both in trouble if caught doing anything unseemly." He unlocked the door and I made my way through into the short corridor leading into the morgue itself.

The cold room of the morgue chilled me as I walked in. I took a folder from a small table by the door and flipped through the papers inside. Gas lamps illuminated the room and I walked in silence across the diamond tiles to the four tables in the middle of the room. Only one body rested in the room; according to the papers I was reading it was the cadaver of Hubert Cooper.

His file, written by Dr. Moore, said that he'd died of sudden but natural causes. There was bruising around Mr. Cooper's neck. Sudden causes indeed. I examined the body in detail and found no clear signs of illness. Hubert Cooper had not been overweight and for a bank clerk had been athletic. There were also no signs that any detailed pathological inspection of Mr. Cooper's body carried out. One anomaly I found was that his mouth had been forced open. Inside it I found a black rosebud. I removed the foreign object and wrapped inside square of cloth from my violin case.

One of the stories I had read about The Rose Club was that they used a system of colored roses to communicate. Roses placed in their lapels to send simple messages about their ranking within the organization. One tabloid article, which carried a macabre twist, suggested that they had enough influence over the police and judicial system to escape the penalties of the law. The article had insinuated, although not outright said, that they
used a black rose to tell the police to look the other way.

This tabloid, although of low quality and usually filled with fiction, had been correct. Reason enough for me to continue my subscription. I turned to leave the morgue and put the file back on the table by the door. I hoped that Dr. Moore would re-examine the body when he returned and find the rosebud missing leading him to carry out a proper examination rather than perjure himself for the sake of The Rose Club.

***

After the performance I declined the complementary carriage back to my hotel. Instead I walked across central park in order to collect my thoughts and make plans for my journey to the capital. Walking alone under the gaslights in the early hours of the morning has always been one of the mains ways that for me to relax after a concert. The silence and loneliness only broken by my footsteps on the path as I find my way back to the hotel.

In some cities this is a dangerous habit and is liable to attract the attention of undesirables elements of society who wish to rob you or do much worse. In light of my venture to the morgue earlier I should have expected what happened next.

I had been followed from the penthouse where I had played from the moment that I had reached the street. I had not been playing attention when I should have. A giant Scandinavian with closely shaved blond hair had been constantly behind me, or in my vicinity, even after I had noticed him and had started to walk a random path back to my hotel.

It was under one of the bridges crossing the lake that he confronted me. "Stop and turn around," he shouted in a thick accent. On the lapel of his winter coat I spied a rosebud, but could not discern the color. He was pointing a revolver at me. "Put your hands up."

I put my violin case to the floor and followed his instructions to the letter. He proceeded to interrogate me. "Have you told Mr.. Baker the results of your investigation?"

"Not yet."

"You won't."

"I won't. How do you mean?"

"If you tell him then you die. We have already fixed the mess you caused at the morgue. There won't be a rude and unnecessary investigation into Mr. Coopers unfortunate, shall I say, poor health. It would not take much effort for me to make you to make you go away. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," I said, "I suppose you will want the rosebud I took from Hubert's mouth. It is the only evidence that I have. I swear I am telling the truth."

"I believe you. Yes, I want the rosebud. You have it with you?"

"In my violin case."

"Get it. Get it slowly," the Scandinavian ordered.

I bent down onto my knees slowly. I kept my arms above my head until I could open the case. Inside the lid I always kept a single action revolver because I never knew the trouble I was going to get involved with. I pulled out the revolver from its housing quickly and shot the Scandinavian in the leg. He dropped his gun which fired when it hit the ground. I closed the lid of the violin case and approached the Scandinavian who lay on the ground clutching his ruined knee with gritted teeth.

"I am a musician. I am also a marksman. Now tell me why Hubert Cooper was murdered," I said, pulling back the revolver's hammer.

The Scandinavian said nothing.

"Now I am not a cruel man. I don't wish to harm you any more than I already have. But if you don't tell me, then I am going to have to do a rather beastly thing to you. I know you have enough composer to speak. Your silence betrays you; since a lesser man would be screaming to the heavens now."

The Scandinavian said nothing until I pointed the revolver at his other knee. "Alright. Rose Club members wanted to buy Mr. Baker's bank cheap. They intimated him. Then threatened to him and his employees harm. Hubert was just the first. He had no family; so the only person that would care would be Mr. Baker."

"I see. Are you alone? Are you being followed?"

"I'm alone. What are you going to do now?" asked the Scandinavian.

I pointed the revolver at his chest and said, "Send a message."

"You wouldn't."

I fired a shot into the man's chest and he died in an instant. Possibly he was frightened for the first time in his life. I crouched down next to him and put the revolver back in the violin case. I took the black rosebud and opened the Scandinavian's dead mouth and placed the flower inside before closing his jaw.

I looked around. The park was still silent. The three shots might have been heard but they had most likely been ignored. Even still I proceeded directly towards the exit of the park and back towards my hotel.

The following morning Mr. Baker met me for breakfast in my suite. "Mr. Baker you were correct in your assumption that Hubert was murdered. However you will find no recourse with the law, although I did try to attract their attention. The Rose Club has the authorities firmly in their pockets. I am sorry that I cannot even guarantee your safety," I said.

"And what of this Scandinavian. What became of him?"

"He is dead. He admitted to me that he was the murderer so I shot
him."

Mr. Baker looked shocked. "The police aren't involved are they? You broke the law on my behalf."

I poured myself a cup of tea from the hotel's fine china. "I don't think they'll be involved. It's all about roses and I just happened to have a black rose upon my person."

"Oh. Are you going to explain anything else to me?"

"No. That would not be smart. Best to leave some mystery. If the death of the Scandinavian is troubling you then let me assure you that it was self-defence. Now if you don't mind could you please leave. I am leaving for the train station in half an hour and would like to finish my breakfast in peace,"

Mr. Baker left in silence. As he opened the door to leave the room he turned back to look at me. It looked as though he wanted to say something. "Good luck," I said, as he paused before he walked out into the corridor.