TWC-011
St. Valentine's Ledger
Patron: Nickels Costigan
Date: Aug 12th, 1923 – Gold Coast District
Location: St. Valentine's
Proprietor: Glass-Eyes
The thing about running a place like St. Valentine’s is that you get used to people leaving things behind. Half-drunk cocktails. Love notes on napkins. Cigarette cases. A body part or two, on the worst nights. But a toe tag?
That was new.
I found it in the back booth. The one with the mismatched table legs and the stain no spell will lift. It had been tucked under the cushion, just barely visible. Like someone wanted it to be found. But not too fast.
As Agatha described it: it wasn’t old. Bright yellow paper. Clean corners. No dust. But the ink, that was the kicker. It wasn’t ink at all. It was blood. Dried, yes. But too neat to be fresh and too neat to be natural.
I picked it up with a napkin.
There, scrawled in elegant notation across the bottom, was a melody. Five bars. Faintly familiar. A lullaby maybe, or a funeral dirge dressed up like a nursery rhyme. And just above it in words even I could read clear as day:
Name: Dominic Costigan Jr.
Place of Death: The Wicked City
Date of Death: August 31st, 1923
Cause of Death: Cat Got His Tongue
So, the Wicked thinks it can creep into my city, into my establishment, and leave little threats like this? Scribbled on the future corpse of a boy I’d carried out of more bar brawls than I could count? Nickels isn't due back for at least a few days still. And now he had a death sentence delivered by his own master?
I stuffed the tag in my pocket, poured myself a bourbon, and went to the basement. Not for the guns. Not yet.
For the piano.
If the Wicked wanted to play, I’d return the damn melody. Except, who should I find but my latest starlet, and some spindly little snake-charmer she brought back with her.