Chapter Text
The rain poured down in sheets, hard enough even the streetlights seemed reluctant to reach beyond their glass. The darkness seemed to consume all. Passing cars dwindled to none; nobody wanted to be out in the deluge.
Well, almost nobody.
Rosie found nights like this the best sort of night to do her shopping. She hummed quietly to herself, the pounding rain washing out the sound just as it washed away the blood oozing onto the cobblestone. Her own raincoat was cinched tight and the butcher was far enough from home to excuse any inescapable moisture when she got home - not that she expected Franklin to notice.
She carefully carved away another steak and wrapped it in the waxy cloth she’d brought before tucking it into her already bulging bag. She would have to work on cleaning up soon - after she took the liver. Franklin had asked her for liver and onions this week.
“I do hope you’re not planning to waste that.”
Rosie whipped around and flung her knife at the voice, who twisted to the side. The knife clattered harmlessly to the ground behind him.
She bristled as she stared at the man now standing at the mouth of the alley. How long had he been there? She relied on the element of surprise in her work, and clearly this interloper had some skill if he was able to dodge her attack.
A dark cloth obscured most of his face and the darkness the rest, but Rosie saw something move and thought he must have raised a brow. “Good aim,” he said, turning and picking up the knife. Rosie tensed as he approached, prepared to fight for her life, but he merely offered her the weapon handle first. “My question still stands.”
“What question?” she asked stiffly, glad she’d covered her own face tonight.
“If you’re planning to waste that.” He nodded to the mutilated body behind her. “I’ve been quite looking forward to him and then you’ve had to go and steal my kill.”
Rosie blinked, completely taken aback. She’d never met someone with her same tastes before, let alone somebody who also ‘shopped’ the way she did. Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t steal anything. I got to him first.”
The man laughed. “Fair enough. Mind if I take your leftovers? I’ll help with the cleanup in payment.”
“I think the rain has it taken care of,” Rosie sniffed, stepping back and returning to her work without turning her back to the stranger. She did need to finish quickly and take care of the remains so she could get home before Franklin realized the time.
Crouching down opposite her, the stranger produced a knife of his own. “True,” he said, “but nevertheless, my maman raised a gentleman and I’m not in the habit of taking handouts.”
Rosie hmphed and quickly removed the dead man’s liver. “There, you can take what’s left.” She shifted back to wrap her prize.
The stranger set to work. “You’ve done an excellent job,” he said. “This isn’t your first kill.”
“Nor yours,” she said, noting his precise slices and raising her brows when he pulled a bag of his own from inside his coat.
“No,” he agreed, “it’s not.”
Rosie hummed and waited for him to finish taking his chosen cuts before setting back in to fully dismember what was left.
“Where do you take them?” the man asked.
“Now why would I tell you a thing like that?”
He laughed, a full, loud thing that would have echoed had the rain not been so heavy. Rosie winced.
“You ought to be a little more quiet,” she said snidely.
He snickered. “Alright.”
Rosie rolled her eyes, but didn’t protest when her new companion produced a second bag and began tucking discarded pieces inside.
“...Where do you take yours?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he sang, but it held a teasing lilt.
Fair enough, Rosie thought, but didn’t say.
They worked in silence and to Rosie’s great annoyance it only took half the time to have the body fully packed away. Thanks to the rain, even the blood had already mostly washed away.
The man hefted the bag. “I’ll take care of the rest,” he said.
Rosie grabbed a strap. “I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own.”
He tugged the bag. “Of course, but I said I’d pay for my part by cleaning up.”
“No offense,” Rosie tugged it back, “but I don’t really trust you.”
“None taken,” he said, amused. “I would lose respect for you if you did.”
Rosie scowled. “Give me the bag.”
“No,” he said cheerfully, giving it another good tug, “I don’t think I will!”
“I won’t let you frame me.”
He laughed again. “It isn’t framing if you did it.” He sobered and met her gaze. “But I won’t. I promise he will disappear and nobody will find him.”
Rosie stared at him for a long time, considering, and came to the conclusion they could probably go back and forth on this the rest of the night. He wasn’t going to give in… and he might be able to afford to stay out. She had a husband to get back to.
“Fine,” she growled, releasing her hold on the strap. “If this comes back, I’m taking you down with me.”
Even though the bottom half of his face was still covered, she could tell he was smiling. He gave a flourishing bow and vanished into the rain.
“Show boat,” she muttered.
—----
Rosie sighed as she counted out her till. The day had been a long one - she’d gotten home later than she would have liked, as she’d taken a different route in the hopes that her strange helper didn’t follow her. She hid a yawn behind her hand. At least Franklin didn’t seem to mind her tardiness - she’d had dinner in the oven for him and a bottle of whiskey on the table.
“I ought to file a complaint at the butcher,” she groused, and he nodded along in sympathy before diving into an anecdote about his day.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Rosie’s husband swept through the doors with two of his friends in tow, though she only recognized one of them. She snapped the till closed and rushed around the counter with a wide smile. “Franklin! What a wonderful surprise, and right as I’m closing, too!”
“Hello darling,” Franklin said, gracing her with a kiss on the cheek. “How has your day been?”
“Busy,” she said. “I won’t bore you with the details. Introduce me to your new friend?” He wasn’t asking out of interest, anyway; just to look good.
“You’ve met Vox,” Franklin said, gesturing to the shorter of the two. Rosie nodded and murmured a greeting. “And this is Alastor Hartfelt, an up-and-coming radio star!” He said it with a slight sneer, disguised by a quick smile and warm words. Rosie didn’t miss it, but she hoped the young man before her did.
Alastor stood a full head taller than both Franklin and Vox, with dark wavy hair and tanned skin. No, not tanned - dark. Franklin’s distaste suddenly made sense.
Rosie offered her hand. “How do you do?”
Franklin’s eye twitched as Alastor took her hand and bowed slightly over it, brushing a respectful kiss over her knuckles. “Lovely to meet you,” he said with a smile before looking around. “What a charming boutique! I can see why Franklin is constantly speaking so highly of you!”
Color rose in Rosie’s cheeks and she shot a bashful glance at her husband. “Oh, does he?”
“Only the best, darling,” he said. “Vox and Alastor will be joining us for dinner tonight.”
“We’ve heard endless stories about your cooking,” Vox said. “I’m looking forward to finally trying it myself.”
Rosie simply smiled. A good thing she’d done her collection the night before. She mentally sorted through her larder. She should have enough to put something together. “Of course,” she said, glancing between the three of them and settling on Franklin. “When should I plan on having it ready?”
He hummed and glanced at his pocket watch. “We’ll be home by six,” he said.
That left her maybe two hours. “I’ll have it on the table,” she said, “which means I should lock up!”
“Ah yes, of course, come on boys, let’s get back to the office and let my wife do what she does best.” Franklin swung his arm out to allow his friends to precede him. Alastor raised a brow but did as bid, offering Rosie a nod on his way out. Vox simply strode out, talking loudly and tossing an arm around Alastor’s shoulders.
Rosie followed, locking the door behind her and bidding her husband farewell before turning the opposite direction and making her way home.
—----
As promised, Rosie had dinner waiting on the table when Franklin and his entourage arrived. She greeted them warmly and served them, sitting quietly as they talked business. Alastor kept glancing at her, which Franklin clearly noticed if the twitching in his eye was anything to go by. She ate her dinner, ignoring Alastor and focusing on her husband.
That didn’t stop Rosie from observing their guests, however. She didn’t miss how Vox looked at Alastor, how often he touched Alastor’s arm or shoulder or leaned in to speak directly in his ear - nor did she miss the strained smile and stiff posture Alastor wore. That was a recipe for disaster if ever she saw one; Vox and Franklin had been friends since they were schoolboys and Rosie knew Vox to be tenacious and entitled. He didn’t like to be told no.
Once they’d finished Rosie cleared up and offered to pour each of them a drink.
“The scotch please, my dear,” Franklin said.
“Of course darling,” Rosie said, and went to fetch it. She put the kettle on while she was in the kitchen.
“Oh! Did we tell you a recruiter came to the office today?” Vox said as Rosie returned to the dining room.
Franklin nodded. “I did see them, I wondered.”
Vox nodded, smiling broadly. “He said he’s heard work from both me and Al here and thinks we have great potential! Not a surprise to anyone, of course.”
Franklin immediately knocked back his first drink and silently held his glass out for Rosie to refill. She stared at him. Not only was alcohol difficult to get hold of these days, being the prohibition and all, this scotch was meant to be a sipper. Still, she poured him another and this time he sipped it.
“Thank you, doll,” Alastor said when she filled his glass.
Franklin’s eye twitched.
Rosie smiled. “I’ll leave the bottle. I’m going to make some tea and turn in for the evening.” She kissed Franklin’s cheek. “Goodnight, gentlemen.”
“Goodnight darling,” Franklin said without looking at her.
Rosie collected her current book and took her cup of tea to the bedroom to read until she finally felt sleep creeping up on her. She could still hear the men talking, though it sounded like they’d moved to the sitting room. Rosie quietly closed the door, and quickly fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.