Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I cock my head. “What?” My nerves skitter under my skin. It’s the same… Like May… Her message.
He nods. “I think it might have something to do with Sev—with May.”
“Let me see it.”
He pulls a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. We walk inside, locking the door behind us, and sit down on my leather sofa. Maddox lays the note on the coffee table.
I read it.
A figure of black, with points to its rank
Was lost near a henge of cascading wet banks.
In fields where the grasses grow wild and unkempt,
Its crown was interred—placed perhaps with contempt.
Search not for the heart, nor the diamond or club,
For their sister lies still beneath flower and shrub.
Where wings take to sky, and landings draw nearly,
You’ll find what was hidden, its fate mirrored clearly.
“What the hell?” I ask.
“Precisely my thoughts,” Maddox says. “But read the first line. A figure of black, with points to its rank.”
“What does that mean. Like someone shrouded in a black cloak? Who maybe has some large amount of social credit? Points to its rank?”
He shakes his head. “I think it means literally. And then go down a few lines. Search not for the heart, nor the diamond or club.”
I press my lips together. “That just leaves the spade.”
“Exactly,” he says. “I think that’s what the first line refers to. Not a figure as in a person, but a figure as in a symbol. Spades have points, both at the top, and then at the little stem at their bottom.”
“So a spade…was lost?” I clap my hand over my chest. “Oh my God, it’s referring to May! The Seven of Spades! Her suspension.”
“I think so,” Maddox says. “But the rest is gobbledygook to me. I thought you may be able to figure it out. You’re a musician, so you’ve got a creative side.”
I bite my lip. “Not so sure how creative I am. Everything I ever played was written by someone else. I was never much for composing. You can ask my music theory professors.”
He smiles. “You may have taken works from other composers, but I’m sure you made them your own. All musicians do. Otherwise no one would ever care to listen to music live when they could just pull up a recording on Spotify.”
I shrug. “I guess when you put it like that…” I look over the riddle again. “There are two lines pertaining to nature. First here”—I point—“where it says fields where the grasses grow wild and unkempt and then beneath flower and shrub.”
“So you think it’s talking about a park or something?”
“Or a nature preserve. Wild and unkempt would imply something that isn’t manmade.”
Maddox scratches his chin. “There’s not a whole lot of stuff that isn’t manmade in Chicago.”
“Maybe this indicates a location outside of the city. Some place where we might find evidence that Rouge is up to something.”
“Or it could be leading us into a trap,” Maddox says.
I frown. “I didn’t think of that.” I pick up the note. “And you don’t know who could have slipped this into your jacket?”
“No idea at all,” he says. “But the only people who would have been milling about the area were the waitstaff. Maybe they’re trying to get a message out but encoding it in a riddle in case they get caught. Why me, though?”
“Why me?” I ask. “May came to me.” I stroke my chin. “But this message is written in perfect English. With perfect meter, rhymes, and everything. May barely spoke English. I assume the same could be the case for all the other waitstaff.”
Maddox shrugs. “Just because May’s English was basic doesn’t mean that’s the case for everyone. Some people pick up languages more easily than others.”
“Yes, but this”—I point to the note—“could have been written by Shakespeare.”
“And who’s to say none of the waitstaff are literary scholars?” Maddox asks. “They’re all working toward a life after their five-year term at the club is up. Some of them might be reading up on the greats.”
“I suppose.” I return my focus to the note. “Crown was interred…” I snap my fingers. “Rouge wears a tiara. This must be referring to something having to do with her. Maybe some treasure she received in exchange for services rendered.” I rub at my temples as I think it through. “So there’s evidence hidden in a field somewhere. Or a park. Some sort of greenery.” I sigh. “There are about a million parks in Chicago, and that’s not counting the suburbs.”
“There must be something else in the note that can help us narrow it down,” Maddox says.
I nod, rereading the second line. “Lost near a henge of cascading wet banks.” I scratch my head. “Maybe there’s a park near a bank downtown.”
“That doesn’t really narrow it down, anyway,” Maddox says. “There are a million banks in Chicago as well.”