[Yami no Matsuei/Alabaster] "Bagman" (PG-13)
Author's Note: Written for < lj user="tamingthemuse">'s prompt 387-portmanteau. RP related, set in the "Team Albany" universe (Boardwalk Empire alternate universe) devised by Pashchan and Injusticeworth. Featuring an AU Kazutaka Muraki and the Bailiff. Warning for shady doings and period-specific racism.
A week on the road delivering the package and the Bailiff had changed cars when the Winton he had started with gave out on a back road in Virginia. He had found a Kissel in a barn and hot wired it before heading on his way: if he took any longer with this delivery, word would get out that he had dragged his heels on an important shipment for an important buyer. The contents of the satchel nestled in the floorboards on the shotgun side felt as though they would crawl out and bite him in the ankles. Foolish way to feel: he had delivered far more sinister things in his time, but this one felt different somehow.
Perhaps that feeling came on account of the buyer at the end of this last leg through Albany, to a house set back from the road, up a wooded slope in the Catskill Mountains. Doctor Kensington Mudgett, a physician and surgeon, spent his summers in Atlantic City, tending to the tourists, though he knew Thompson had the good doctor on retainer if one of the girls in the bordellos found herself unable to work till a little matter got cleared up. The Bailiff had heard through the grapevine, from Madame Terpsichore and the rest of the choir, that Doctor Mudgett had a different name on his birth certificate than the one on his medical license, a name he had to hide in order to keep his practice. The Bailiff had suspected it from the first time he had met Mudgett: a man with that last name usually had differently shaped eyes, but he could baffle the ignorant with his pale eyes, pale hair and pale complexion. Heaven knew some white Americans had darker hides than Mudgett's.
The car bumped over an especially frost heaved stretch and the leather satchel bounced with it, threatening to eject itself from the open topped vehicle. The Bailiff swung out one wide hand to catch the handle, pushing it back down to its resting place. Bad enough he had this albatross about his neck, now it wanted to escape before it arrived at its final roost.
He rounded the last twist of the road, the lights of the mansion glowing through the bare trees, then drew up before the house. Dogs in the rear yard barked, and the front door opened a crack, the Nipponese butler peering out.
"Are you delivering Doctor Mudgett's package?" the butler asked in passably good English.
"Miss Seward introduced us," the Bailiff said, approaching the half open door and holding up the satchel.
"Ah, come right in then," the butler said, stepping aside as the Bailiff crossed the threshold. "One moment, I fetch him: he in bed."
"Not for long, Sakaki," Doctor Mudgett's mellow baritone with its affected English accent called from the mezzanine of the staircase. He stood there clad in a rich silvery silk dressing gown that covered him from neck to ankles, a white patch covering one eye, a young man with rusty blond hair and green eyes at his side, yawning irritably. "You brought the package?"
The Bailiff held up the satchel. "Took a bit of string pulling, Doctor, but I found the volume that you requested."
Doctor Mudgett's face gathered in a smile, the smile of a lion whose hyena has cornered an especially agile zebra. "Brilliant," he said, descending the stairs, reaching into a pocket of his dressing gown and removing a roll of bills. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he held out the roll to the Bailiff, who took the money and handed over the satchel. "Sakaki, is the red room tidy?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good: our guest has a long road ahead of him. Have a tea table set up there," Doctor Mudgett ordered. "Hyacinthe, you'll be our Ganymede tonight."
The blond youth sighed sleepily. "Master, it's late."
"I know that, but I won't have it said that we were not good hosts to our guest," Doctor Mudgett said, putting a hand on the youngster's shoulder and squeezing it in a way that made the youth frown.
"Wouldn't want to keep you you up late, Doctor," the Bailiff replied. "A cup o' coffee standing up in a warm kitchen will do."
Doctor Mudgett nodded. "As you wish, I would not want to leave you feeling awkward." To the butler, he added, "See that our man has his coffee and anything else he might request."
"Indeed, sir," the butler said, beckoning the Bailiff to follow him. The Bailiff followed, the better to be quit of the pale man and his companion. Even still, he could hear the exchange that followed between the master and his pet.
"What's in the satchel, master?" Hyacinthe asked.
"Something to broaden your horizons and help you to avenge your death," Doctor Mudgett replied.
A week on the road delivering the package and the Bailiff had changed cars when the Winton he had started with gave out on a back road in Virginia. He had found a Kissel in a barn and hot wired it before heading on his way: if he took any longer with this delivery, word would get out that he had dragged his heels on an important shipment for an important buyer. The contents of the satchel nestled in the floorboards on the shotgun side felt as though they would crawl out and bite him in the ankles. Foolish way to feel: he had delivered far more sinister things in his time, but this one felt different somehow.
Perhaps that feeling came on account of the buyer at the end of this last leg through Albany, to a house set back from the road, up a wooded slope in the Catskill Mountains. Doctor Kensington Mudgett, a physician and surgeon, spent his summers in Atlantic City, tending to the tourists, though he knew Thompson had the good doctor on retainer if one of the girls in the bordellos found herself unable to work till a little matter got cleared up. The Bailiff had heard through the grapevine, from Madame Terpsichore and the rest of the choir, that Doctor Mudgett had a different name on his birth certificate than the one on his medical license, a name he had to hide in order to keep his practice. The Bailiff had suspected it from the first time he had met Mudgett: a man with that last name usually had differently shaped eyes, but he could baffle the ignorant with his pale eyes, pale hair and pale complexion. Heaven knew some white Americans had darker hides than Mudgett's.
The car bumped over an especially frost heaved stretch and the leather satchel bounced with it, threatening to eject itself from the open topped vehicle. The Bailiff swung out one wide hand to catch the handle, pushing it back down to its resting place. Bad enough he had this albatross about his neck, now it wanted to escape before it arrived at its final roost.
He rounded the last twist of the road, the lights of the mansion glowing through the bare trees, then drew up before the house. Dogs in the rear yard barked, and the front door opened a crack, the Nipponese butler peering out.
"Are you delivering Doctor Mudgett's package?" the butler asked in passably good English.
"Miss Seward introduced us," the Bailiff said, approaching the half open door and holding up the satchel.
"Ah, come right in then," the butler said, stepping aside as the Bailiff crossed the threshold. "One moment, I fetch him: he in bed."
"Not for long, Sakaki," Doctor Mudgett's mellow baritone with its affected English accent called from the mezzanine of the staircase. He stood there clad in a rich silvery silk dressing gown that covered him from neck to ankles, a white patch covering one eye, a young man with rusty blond hair and green eyes at his side, yawning irritably. "You brought the package?"
The Bailiff held up the satchel. "Took a bit of string pulling, Doctor, but I found the volume that you requested."
Doctor Mudgett's face gathered in a smile, the smile of a lion whose hyena has cornered an especially agile zebra. "Brilliant," he said, descending the stairs, reaching into a pocket of his dressing gown and removing a roll of bills. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he held out the roll to the Bailiff, who took the money and handed over the satchel. "Sakaki, is the red room tidy?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good: our guest has a long road ahead of him. Have a tea table set up there," Doctor Mudgett ordered. "Hyacinthe, you'll be our Ganymede tonight."
The blond youth sighed sleepily. "Master, it's late."
"I know that, but I won't have it said that we were not good hosts to our guest," Doctor Mudgett said, putting a hand on the youngster's shoulder and squeezing it in a way that made the youth frown.
"Wouldn't want to keep you you up late, Doctor," the Bailiff replied. "A cup o' coffee standing up in a warm kitchen will do."
Doctor Mudgett nodded. "As you wish, I would not want to leave you feeling awkward." To the butler, he added, "See that our man has his coffee and anything else he might request."
"Indeed, sir," the butler said, beckoning the Bailiff to follow him. The Bailiff followed, the better to be quit of the pale man and his companion. Even still, he could hear the exchange that followed between the master and his pet.
"What's in the satchel, master?" Hyacinthe asked.
"Something to broaden your horizons and help you to avenge your death," Doctor Mudgett replied.