The Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay - Volume 1: Gallery of Rogues (3 page)

“Another tea house,” The Derby idly commented.

“What makes you think so, dear?” The Jay said, still staring upward at the giant vine.

“There’s a lot of broken glass and lids from display jars that had fallen from the windows and cracked upon the street.”

“So there is,” The Jay dropped her head and then moved slowly towards the vine. “Seems like a circumstance best left to science. Care to break out the chemistry set, dear?”

The Derby shook his head. “I’m not much of a botanist. I was sort-of hoping the time you’ve spent in your private garden would help us figure out what it is.”

The Jay spent a few moments looking up and down the stem, feeling the branches between her palms, and running the leaves between her fingers. It was when she pushed her fingers between the knotted stem and pulled loose a small amount of light brown seeds did she come to a conclusion.

“It’s an Arabica.”

“Arabica? I’m not familiar with the t-”

“Arabica, as in coffee, it is a giant, mutant, middle-eastern coffee plant.” She promptly dropped the seeds onto the street and dusted her hands off, sneering “It’s a good thing I was wearing gloves.”

“I take it you’re not a fan of coffee?” The Derby asked with a bit of smugness in his voice.

“Call me old fashioned,” The Jay replied, “but I still heed my mother’s old warnings about the stuff: dulls the senses, makes people dependent, upsets the head and stomach, and ruin’s a man’s ability to,” The Jay looked up at the Derby, who continued to smile slyly.

“Anyway, I do believe that I’m starting to believe your theory about the tea economy. It’d be easy to usurp the national beverage if…”

“You immediately replace it with another beverage. Yes I was thinking the same thing!” The Derby energetically stroked the bottom of his chin. “The only thing we need now is a suspect.”

No sooner had The Derby said those words did the oddest little man show up pushing a peddler’s cart with a metal tin made for roasted peanuts across the street. He was a thin man with a large, bulbous nose, a thin, curled moustache, and although his clothing was indeed that of a peanut peddler, they draped in strange places about his body, as though they were a size too big or wide for his slender frame.

“You there,” The Jay called across the street “Isn’t it a bit late in the evening to be selling peanuts?”

The peanut peddler stopped in is tracks and stammered as he scratched the back of his head. “Uh, we-w-we-well, I was just ta-taking this to a banquet of a wealthy businessman. Ru-roasted peanuts just happen to be his favorite.”

The Jay curled her lip at the response. “Really, so then you wouldn’t mind,” She held up a nickel between her index and pointer fingers “letting me have a bag.”

“I, uh, I Left the peanuts at the actual party, gotta go!” And then the peddler dashed off as quickly as a man pushing a peanut cart could possibly travel.

Stunned, the Jay turned sideways to the Derby and asked “is that man strange enough to count as being a suspect?”

“Indeed he is,” The Derby clicked his tongue. “Sometimes this job is all too easy.” And with that, the two followed in pursuit.

O O O

Soon, the duo found themselves at the corner of Cornwall and Stone, home of the Cornwall-Stone tea house. Hiding in the shadows of the nearby building, they watched the peanut peddler approach another pair of shady characters on the street. One was a woman dressed head-to-toe in a laced-up dark red velvet gown with a matching pillbox hat held on her head by a pair of large hat pins. The other was a large, brutish looking fellow in a painter’s cap, and an olive-colored sweater who had a cricket bat tied over his shoulder with a long piece of twine. They both wore masquerade masks over their faces, and when the velvet-clad lady handed the peanut peddler a third, they matched.

“Did you manage to take out the Springley Brothers’ tea house?” The woman asked.

“I did, Steletta, but I was nearly caught. I knew nobody would believe a peanut vendor was walking around at night,” the peddler peeled away the fake curly mustache he was wearing as part of his disguise. His own lip was hairless except for a few strands of black stray whiskers which jutted randomly from the sides of his cheeks and chin.

“But we needed you to carry ‘dat peanut cart around t’ haul around deh mutant coffee beans, right, Bootsy?” The large one suggested, his voice walking the fine line between sloppy, thuggish dialect, and pure dimwittedness.

“It doesn’t matter, Heely” Steletta chuckled greedily as she wrung her hands. “As soon as we hit just a few more buildings we’ll have rid the entire city of its tea supply, and we’ll be ready to fill the gap in London’s tea commerce with our own specialty brew.”

“Our coffee houses will stand on every corner of the country!” Bootsy chortled.

“An’ then we can afford a farm with some rabbits, and a boat t’ catch shrimp, an-” Heely’s rant was silenced by rapid blow on his head by Steletta’s fist.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Heely,” Steletta advised. “Why dream of future prosperities when we’re already the kings and queen of London’s criminal underworld?”

“We’re the very masterminds of crime!” Bootsy cheered, linking arms with Steletta.

“Huzzah!” Heely added and linked Steletta’s other arm. Now that they stood arm-to-arm in a three criminal chorus line, they kicked their legs together as they chanted in unison:

“We’re the meanest of the mean,

Conniving and cruel!

We are the greatest at our jobs!

So if you think that you’ve been cheated,

You’ve really been defeated

By the members of the Three-Headed Mob!”

As the wicked trio connived in their sinister display, The Derby and Jay, still hidden in the shadows of the corner of a building, looked on in awe.

“They’re certainly a theatrical bunch aren’t they?” The Jay said drolly.

“It’s a textbook case of Despicable Triplicate Syndrome.” The Derby, with a smirk on his face, shook his head.

“Despicable Triplicate Syndrome? Oh do pray tell, dear.” The Jay inquired.

“It’s only a theory, but a popular one among criminologists.” The Derby explained. “It states that certain types of criminals, each containing a certain kind of temperament, tend to team up in order to fill out the weaknesses of their own personalities. The leader is always extremely enterprising and ambitious, but also very vain, and frequently female. The intellect of the trio frequently employs the use of science and invention, which is why our skinny little friend here has been making his rounds with that peanut cart. Finally, the third member of the trio is always a man of great strength but very little intellect, and that’s certainly what we are seeing with that rather gorilla-looking fellow.”

“It doesn’t sound like a theory of criminology to me. It sounds more like some sort of silly villain formula stolen from the funny pages,” The Jay sneered.

The Derby gave a shrug, “At any rate, it means that we are dealing with a pretty varied group of malcontents, and we’re going to need to take great care lest we get caught up in a whirlwind of sinister tactics.”

“So what do you suppose we should do?” The Jay asked.

“We spring into action!” The Derby declared.

“And then?” The Jay said insistently.

“…We take it from there.”

And so they sprung, with the Derby declaring “Halt, you detestable tea-house tippers!”

“Oh drat!” swore Bootsy, “It is The Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay!

“Who?” Steletta asked with her head quirked sideways at her criminal cohort.

“You know, the Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay, London’s stalwart defenders of all which is lawful and just,” Bootsy gave a sneer. “I should have known they would have followed me here!”

“And to think they consider you the brains.” The Jay said idly.

“You shouldn’t be so sharp-tongued in front of the very leaders of London’s criminal underworld!” Steletta fumed.

“Even the highest criminal is low before the actions of a noble crime fighter!” The Derby declared.

“Yeah, we’ll just see about THAT!” Bootsy declared as he grabbed a beaker from the peanut truck and doused the two heroes with it.

The Jay sputtered “Ugh, More coffee!”

“I take it you’re not a fan of our product?” Steletta crooned.

“Indeed, but not so much that I won’t clobber your henchman for dousing me with it!” The Jay growled as she drew her umbrella.

The Jay wielded the weapon above her head, ready to throttle the sinister gang within an inch of their lives. However, The Jay came to a halt when she felt a strange sensation crawling up her shoulder. She looked sideways, glancing along her arm where she felt the crawling, and to her astonishment, a vine had been growing along the length of her arm, gathering around her wrist and the hilt of her weapon in long sprouting spirals.

“Wha-What’s happening??”

But as soon as she asked, she had already realized that the solution that Bootsy threw on her wasn’t coffee. It was the growth formula for these gigantic Arabica plants which were now growing across her body more rapidly than she could fight against it.

“Uhm, a little help Dear?”

“I have problems of my own!” The Derby hollered in reply. His need to shout became necessary, because the vines that were gripping him had already rooted, leaving him suspended in the air entwined in the center of a giant Arabica plant.

Steletta gave another laugh at the misfortune of the two crime fighters. “You know, Midnight Jay, you may not be a fan of our coffee, but you must admit, it can certainly grow on you.”

With that, the villains split the scene, on their way to hit the last few tea shops in town. The Scarlet Derby and Midnight Jay found themselves suspended several feet in the air, woven tightly into the vines of the monstrous coffee plant.

“Are you feeling constricted at all?” The Derby asked, twisting his neck to the side to try to catch a glimpse of The Jay, despite the multitude of entangled vines around him forced his gaze in the opposite direction.

“Not at all, dear. I think this blasted thing has just about stopped growing.” The Jay heaved a sigh. “I hate to ask, but, do you have any idea how we plan to escape?”

“I have a vial of my patented defoliant in my bandolier. If I could just get an arm free…”

“If
you
could get an arm free,
you
could use
your
powerful defoliant?” The Jay fumed.

“I’m not following.”

“Of course you’re not. I was just wondering when you were going to decide to include me in one of your escape plans…”

The Derby hung his head, though not in shame. He was attempting to reach the bandolier around his chest using his teeth. “So you’re still hung up on what The Constable said, I take it.”

“Well, I just…I don’t know. I feel ignored. I’ve been defending this city for years before we even met, and now that you’ve come back with me, all he seems to talk about is The Scarlet Derby.”

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to have this argument another time could I?” The Derby bent his head around the corner again. The Jay was silent. That was never a good sign.

The conversation hung there, along with the Derby and Jay, for several minutes while the Derby thought extremely carefully about what words would help bring his hampered better half back around.

Finally, he inhaled and began. “Listen…”

There was silence for a bit further as the Derby futilely tried to figure out whether or not she was indeed listening.

“I’m not trying to…take advantage of the situation here. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. London is still kind of a new place for me. It’s hard to move in on someone’s turf if you’re walking down the wrong street in search of the market.”

The Derby paused again. He thought he might have heard a laugh. He couldn’t be sure.

He continued.

“I didn’t come to England to be some sort-of pop-out-of-the-ground thunder stealing upstart new hero. I came here because we met, and you showed me something. You helped me to experience feelings that I wasn’t finding back in Manhattan, where I came from. And before I make this all into some sort of silly rant about how I used to be unhappy about where I came from, I should simply just say: You changed my life.”

The Derby paused again. There still was a lot of silence. He felt tense. Perhaps the Arabica vines were doing it, but he knew for certain that he didn’t have any of those vines around his chest.

He continued.

“I know you were wary of the idea of our marriage. That’s the only reason that you’d even ask me to make that promise to you. I promised that, if we did get married, I should never get in the way of your duties as Midnight Jay. Whatever happened to us, both in and out of these costumes, I’d never use our marriage as an excuse to change your life. I made you that promise...Even though I know in my own heart, that you’d already changed mine.”

Another pause. More silence. He continued.

“And honestly, I don’t understand quite what The Constable meant either. You truly were his go-to hero for years. I don’t get why he’s changed his mind. But it’s unfair. I think he should treat you special. Because I think you’re special. That’s the reason I asked you to marry me.”

Suddenly, the Derby felt something land on his vine encasement with a thump. For a moment, he panicked. “Oh me, some vulture must have happened upon this coffee plant and now fancies me a piece of biscotti!”

“You sure have a funny way of thanking me for saving you, dear.” The Jay replied, having leaped from her imprisonment onto the Derby’s vine. She clipped away at the tangled vines using the blade at the end of her umbrella.

“But how, d’eh…You were, but…” The Derby stammered.

“I was meditating, dear.” The Jay explained, patting the Derby’s shoulder in passing. “I realized that this little vine problem was an ideal time to practice my ancient Tibetan phasing technique: I slowly became one with the natural growth pattern of the coffee vines and twisted my body along their pattern of growth until I was able to squeeze free.”

After a few strategic cuts, the Derby was able to get free, and the two slid down the vine until they once again stood at street level.