Shadows in a Dark City

by Kirk Dougal

I smelled nothing.

  The man smirked as he slid out of the booth, his pale eyes almost as colorless as his skin.

  “Good luck, shamus,” he said, his mouth oddly out of time with the words. “Don't get your fur ruffled.”

  I nodded and moved to the side so he could walk away. After I settled into his seat, I glanced up again. Shade was nowhere in sight in the speakeasy. I felt another growl rise in my throat.

  Duke chuckled but did not comment. Instead, he pulled a cigar out of the holder on the table and offered it to me. I shook my head and pulled out my deck of Luckies. He smiled and opened his palm, a four-inch flame rising into the air from his skin, its edges tinged in purple. I lit the gasper off the fire and leaned back. Duke lit his cigar before closing his fist. The flame died out.

  “Any other time I would have welcomed this talk,” he said, the smoke curling around his head, clinging close and not drifting away. “I hoped you’d change your mind about working for me. The position remains open.”

  “I'm still thinking that one over.” When Duke offered someone a job, they either accepted or they went away. Permanently away. But so far, he had not pushed the issue with me. “I wanted to talk about the murders. Big Lip and the others.”

  He sighed.

  “Yes, I'd heard that McGlinty took you off his leash and put you on the hunt. Please tell me you're not here to ask if I had something to do with them.”

  I'd already considered the possibility and tossed it aside. Duke could have someone killed without missing a bite of his eggs at breakfast. In fact, I had half-expected a few of his goons like Knuckles, or someone like Shade, to pay me a visit after I didn't take his job. Hell, the rumor was that he had enough juice to do it himself if he wanted to get his hands dirty. But Duke killed for a purpose. More money, more power, to teach someone a lesson—each rub needed to mean something. So far, none of these murders had shown any connection to the different crews.

  “No,” I said while shaking my head. “Not your style. I can't find the profit in it for you.” A snarl pulled back my upper lip. “In fact, I can't figure out why anybody would want these four palookas dead.” A growl had crept into the final words, but I took a deep breath and felt my heart slow again. I glanced up.

  Duke's eyes were tinged in purple, and his hands were facing out from his body, palms toward me. We stared at each other for a moment, and then he relaxed. He picked up the cigar again and puffed.

  “You're pushing this one a little close to the time, aren't you?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Yeah, but I need to get it done. There's something about this one...something.” I shook my head. “Was Big Lip doing anything that would've got him caught up in something bigger? How about this Diartello? I can't find anything on him or the others.”

  Duke smiled.

  “Information?” He tapped the ash off his cigar. “Sometimes that is the most expensive item of all.”

  “I'm not ready to come to work for you yet,” I said and started to slide out of the booth. “I've still got some things to take care of first.”

  Duke waved his hand and gestured for me to sit down again.

  “This information isn't that valuable, and I wouldn't insult you or the position like that. But there will be a fee.” He smiled. “The first bo used to be a can opener for Billy Smokes back in the day. Word is he was out for hire again. The second was a low-street grifter, fiddle games and pig-in-a-poke, nothing big enough to catch the coppers' attention.”

  I nodded, letting the information run through my mind. A safecracker and a con man, Ballas had not known that the first two men were in the criminal world. I already knew about Big Lip. He was an enforcer and occasional button man for whoever had the money for some extra muscle, including Duke from time to time. So, all three of them did have a connection after all.

  “What about Diartello?” I asked. “If he was inside, I've never heard of him, either.”

  Duke's smile slipped for a moment before returning. I realized this was the information I was really paying for.

  “He was an artist. Maybe the best in the business and nobody knew his real name, not even his clients. But he was big time money.”

  Everything fell into place, including the reference to cabbage and Shade's role in this mess.

  “Scratcher?” I asked.

  This time Duke could not stop the smile from fading. He nodded.

  “Plate man.”

  So, the last dead man had been a counterfeiter, and apparently one who was able to make his own plates that passed inspection. If Duke had paid Shade to find out the man's real name, Diartello must have been creating work for the gangster. It still wasn't an arrow pointing at the killer, but at least I had a connection between the men now. I also knew the next person I needed to see.

  “Thanks, Duke,” I said as I slid out of the booth and stood. “This gives me a place to start.”

  He chuckled.

  “Don't go yet. We haven't discussed your payment.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Knuckles move away from the wall.

  “What do you want, Duke?”

  “Not much, really.” He paused. “Five hairs.”

  I blinked.

  “You want five of my hairs?”

  “Yes. But not now. I want them when you have your problem.”

  The breath caught in my throat.

  “What do you want with them?” I asked.

  “I've got a recipe I want to cook up, and they're on my ingredients list.”

  I was probably going to regret my answer, but it didn't seem like a lot to demand for the information.

  “That's jake. It'll be a couple of days.”

  Duke smiled again as he blew out cigar smoke and stared at a spot on the wall above where I'd been sitting.

  “Oh, I know it'll be soon.”

  *****

  I turned down the side street and slowed. Her place was hard to find, and I didn't want to miss it. I had done that before, and I knew if I needed to circle the block, I would never be able to locate the door tonight. That's just the way it worked with her. Of course, I was taking a chance going to her anyway. The last time I asked a question, she hadn't been able to give me an answer I liked, and our parting was not so sweet.

  The end of the block was approaching when I saw it. A black door sat back in a recess, the area unlit by any signs or lights. A reflection of the PB's headlamps off the knocker was the only indication there was anything there. I swung into the open parking space in front of her place and killed the engine. Duke, Shade, and Knuckles all offered their own forms of danger, and so did McGlinty. But none of them scared me as long as I knew the game they were playing.

  I'd never been able to figure out what she was thinking.

  I took a deep breath, remembering the last time I'd seen her, before I stepped into the recess. The shadows appeared to wrap around me, welcoming me into their embrace. I reached up to grab the knocker and noticed it was made from silver, disfigured with a dark-colored film tinged with green. I jerked my hand back and growled.

  The door creaked open a crack.

  I walked inside the shop, making sure not to touch the knocker or doorknob. My head started spinning from all the scents that surrounded me as soon as I was inside, swimming down my nose, and gripping my body. Part of me wanted to let loose, wanted to roar to drive away the odors. I dropped to one knee, clinging to what I knew, why I had come to visit her. But rage boiled deep inside me. This had been a trap, and now I was caught inside her cage. I jerked my head back to scream, but suddenly, everything was gone, and peace settled over me.

  She stood in front of me, one hand behind her back, and one holding a shallow wooden bowl with smoke wisping over its edge.

  “Mama Gwiddon, I came to you for your help,” I said, rising on shaking knees. “What the hell did you do to me?”

  She stared at me for a moment, her green eye deepening in color while her brown one remained fixed, almost l
ooking through my body and studying what was on the wall behind me.

  “You're very close,” Mama said. “I couldn't take the chance you'd lose control.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  She smiled and held the bowl out.

  “This will give us some time to talk. As long as it's smoking, it will help you with your control.”

  I nodded.

  “And when it stops?”

  “It'll be time for you to go.”

  The chuckle escaped my lips before I could stop it.

  “Hey, when the dame says the date's over, it's over.” I pushed back my fedora and leaned against the closest table. My legs were still a little wobbly. “Have you heard about the murders?”

  She pursed her lips and let out a sigh.

  “There are so many deaths in the city. Some people before their time and some,” she paused and half-closed her eyes, “so delicious. I can't keep track of them all.”

  “You'd know about these. Someone has torn four men apart in the past couple of weeks. Tore one bastard's arm off. Always at night in an alley. Never inside so far.” I stopped and licked my lips. I had not noticed how beautiful Mama was the last time she had agreed to see me. “They ate some of the flesh. I think they're feeding.”

  Mama's eyes snapped open.

  “And the blood?”

  “There was blood everywhere,” I said with a shake of my head. “I already wrote off that angle.”

  Mama tilted her head to the side. Her stare was so intense, I felt it pressing on my skin. I wanted to lean into it, let it envelope me as long as I was near her. Another scent flowed by me promising flowers and long afternoons wrapped around each other in a bed. I knocked down the feeling and kept my mind on business.

  “There are others who hunt at night and eat.” She raised an eyebrow at me.

  I shook my head.

  “No. I would've been able to tell if it was someone like me.” I decided to throw in all my chips. “All four were in the game. Grifter, muscle, safecracker, counterfeiter. But all from different crews. It might be revenge for something.”

  “Revenge,” Mama muttered. Her eyebrow raised again. “Scorned?” She smiled and stared at me again. “All men at night in a dark alley?”

  “Yeah, that's the tale of it.”

  She let her gaze travel down my body, and the warm feeling returned in my thoughts. I growled, and Mama glanced quickly at the smoking dish. The wisps were dying.

  “Tell me,” she said. “What would make a red-blooded man like you go down an alley in the middle of the night without a care in the world? Someone with revenge on their mind after being scorned?”

  A light went off in my head.

  “A dame.”

  Mama smiled.

  “But not just any woman. This one would need to be special, alluring, able to catch who she wanted, when she wanted.”

  “And she's got a score to settle,” I said with a nod. “That gives me a place to start. Thanks, Mama.” I nestled the fedora down on my head and turned toward the door.

  “You've grown since the first time we talked,” Mama said, her voice sending a shiver down my spine that made me stop and look at her again.

  “You haven't. In fact, I'd say you're about thirty years younger.”

  “A girl's got to take care of herself.” She laughed, and the air filled again with happiness and sunshine. “I may let you come around more often, now that I know you can control yourself.” Mama moved her arm and revealed the hand she had hidden during our conversation. In it was a long knife, the blade shining in the shop's light. Even from across the room, I could tell it was made of silver.

  The knife made me think of earlier in the night.

  “One more thing before I fade,” I said. “Why would Duke want five of my hairs?”

  The fresh spring air was gone in an instant. In its place, rot and decay drifted into my nose. Mama's eyes lost the green and brown and both darkened to black.

  “Thank you for the information,” she said. “Your bill for tonight is considered paid.”

  I turned and left. I wasn't sure what I had said, but I was certain it would come back to bite me in the ass sometime. It always did.

  *****

  It had been a long two days. I'd scoured all the gin joints I knew about in the area and even went so far as to call in a couple of favors to get into the ones where I didn't normally bend an elbow. All I'd received in return was two mornings of hangovers, and a phone call from McGlinty demanding results. My saving grace was no one else had died in that time.

  I left my overcoat and fedora with the check girl and made my way to the bar. I'd been in this place before, but it wasn't one of my regular stops, so the bartender took his time to get to me. I didn't care. It was Saturday night and even with the danger in the streets, a crowd had come out to howl. A band did its best to play over the voices and laughter at the far end of the room, and the dance floor was full. I was lucky to find room for my elbow on the corner of the bar.

  The rye slid down my throat as I scanned the area. Most of the customers were regular joes, blowing off steam after a long week at work. They were family men and women, trying to forget how hard they busted their humps just to get by, put a little food on the table, and have a dry roof over their heads. A few pro skirts worked the room, keeping clear of the tables where wives and girlfriends were with their men. The women eyed each other like enemies across the battlefield, circling each other but each staying to their own sides in an uneasy truce.

  But I wasn't interested in the wives and none of the pros looked out of place, either. I was afraid tonight was going to turn into another dead end. I socked back another drink and rubbed a hand through my hair. My head hurt. Granted, at this time of the month, my head always hurt, but the dull ache sitting behind my eyes this time was the damn case. I knew there was something in front of me, the key to what I needed to find the killer, but like a blind man wandering with his cane or dog, I was fumbling in the dark. Every time I thought I was close to latching onto the answer, it skittered off my fingertips into the dark.

  “I've had a head like that,” said a soft voice. “It either means too much drink or not enough. Which is it?”

  I turned to the dame standing beside me. Auburn hair framed a pale complexion. Her lips showed the remains of red lipstick, rubbed off long ago on her glass. She had curves in all the right places and better yet, smiled when I leaned back to catch a glimpse of her gams. The scent of her skin filled my head, and the ache disappeared.

  “Probably not enough.” I caught the bartender's attention and signaled for two more drinks. “It's been a while, Miriam.”

  “You could've found me if you looked hard enough.”

  I glanced around but didn't catch anybody looking us over.

  “You working?” The first time I'd seen Miriam, she was making ends meet by acting as the doll in a Spanish Prisoner con. I'd caught onto her and the rest, but kept my mouth shut. The rich guy wasn't one of my clients, and momma didn't raise me to stick my nose into something when I wasn't being paid. Miriam had appreciated the attitude. In fact, she appreciated the attitude enough to be my gal for a while until a case dragged us apart for too long.

  “No,” she said. “I walked away. We almost got pinched about six months ago by a high pillow, and he brought in the badges. I figured my luck was going south, so I got a job as a steno.” Miriam slipped her arm through mine. “How about you?”

  An idea popped.

  “I am, but you might be able to help me. If it all works out, maybe we can dip our bill some more and catch up on old times.”

  She smiled.

  “I'd like that. So, what's the play?”

  I grabbed our two drinks and led her over by the wall where we could see almost the whole room.

  “You heard about Big Lip?” I asked.

  She nodded and took a drink.

  “Stuff like that gets around fast, even when you're out of the game.”
r />   “There's three more just like him in the county morgue, and I'm on the dole to catch the killer.”

  She paled a little.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Just another set of eyes and maybe some background. I think it's a doll leading the guys to her partner. You know, a draghunt, putting the scent down to lead the mark to the killer. All the guys were in the game, so it's probably a revenge play. You're a regular here, you seen anybody new working? Maybe really hitting it hard for a certain guy?”

  She shook her head.

  “No, but that's a side I never played. I know a couple of the girls in here tonight. Let me ask around and see if they've noticed anyone.”

  “Thanks, Miriam. You're a good egg.”

  *****

  I watched Miriam for a while as she went from girl to girl, talking with each of them for a few minutes before moving on to the next. I was on my next drink and still scanning the room when the fight broke out. One minute there was laughter and music, and, in the next, two men were rolling across a table, locked in a struggle. They broke apart long enough for one to land a wild haymaker that put the other guy out on his feet. He was moving in for the finishing touch when the brunos arrived and four of them dragged the brawlers out the door. In my experience, the one who was already knocked out was the lucky one. He wouldn't feel the beating he was about to receive.

  “She caused it.”

  I sniffed the air and turned to face Miriam. She reached for my glass and knocked back the last of it.

  “You find someone?” I asked.

  She tilted her head toward the corner where the fight had taken place.

  “That's her in the booth. None of the girls know her, but she's been hanging around at different places the last few weeks.”

  I stared in the direction she had indicated, but all I could see was a woman's ebony hair.

  “She could be freelancing.”

  Miriam shook her head.

  “No, the girls said she isn't hustling it, but one thought she remembered seeing her leave with a guy a few nights ago. Your height, thin, black hair, pinched face. Looked like he could've worked a desk someplace.”

  Miriam had just described Diartello.