Die on Your Feet

by S. G. Wong

  “Miss?” The operator looked at her expectantly.

  “Yes? Oh,” Lola exclaimed, clearly flustered. “Um, I’m so sorry, I’ve got an appointment with Mr. Copenhagen’s assistant, uh, Mrs....um.” She wrung her hands.

  “Top floor, Davey,” said a man to her left. He turned back to Lola with a smile. “Mrs. Yee.”

  Lola sagged with relief. “Yes, that’s it. Mrs. Yee. Thank you.”

  He looked her over boldly before speaking again. “Mind a word of advice?”

  “No, of course not. Please,” Lola replied.

  “Lose the hat. Mrs. Yee isn’t much for the mannish styles these days.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “She’s a real dragon, if you ask me.”

  Another man snickered. Lola glanced over her shoulder with wide brown eyes. The man was sneering. “Listen sister, if you’re looking for a job, you ain’t gonna get it wearing pants.”

  The first man laid a gentle hand on Lola’s shoulder. “Old Don over there’s just being a goon. Ignore him.” He patted her shoulders. “Every girl’s entitled to a confidence boost, if you ask me. And you look pretty as a picture.” He smiled with very even white teeth.

  Lola smiled and looked down.

  The operator called out “Six” and three of the men got out, including her admirer and Old Don. The former said, “Knock ’em dead.” The latter merely winked. Lola cleared her throat, straightening her blouse and jacket lapels nervously. The remaining man read his newspaper until the elevator opened up onto the tenth floor. He folded up his paper neatly and exited without a word.

  Lola turned to the dark-haired elevator operator. “Listen, Davey? You must know a thing or two about Mrs. Yee. Any pointers?”

  Davey eyed her sidelong, then turned to face her. “He was right about the hat. She’ll hate it.” He checked his watch. “You’re in luck. You’ve got a couple minutes to fix yourself up. Mrs. Yee’ll be down in the mailroom.” He cranked the doors open to floor eighteen.

  Unlike the other levels she’d already seen, this one was floored in gleaming dark wood. It must have cost a king’s ransom, but Lola wasn’t surprised. Nothing but the best for a captain of industry. The wall opposite the elevator had dark oak wainscoting that gleamed in the soft golden light from frosted wall sconces. Davey pointed Lola down the left of the corridor. “Powder room.” Then he thumbed in the opposite direction, saying, “Chairman’s offices.”

  Lola thanked him and headed to the left. As soon as the elevator doors slid closed, she changed her direction.

  The thick carpet underfoot absorbed all sound of Lola’s progress. In fact, there seemed very little of the usual office noises at all. She wondered if there wasn’t special sound-proofing on this floor. A few doors lined the hall but not nearly enough for an entire floor. At the end of the corridor was one massive set of double doors. They were breathtaking: rich paneled mahogany that reflected the light with velvety undertones. An elaborate brass handle curved out invitingly. There was no apparent lock. Lola pushed within and caught up short at the sight of the seated security man. He gave her a once-over and stood.

  Lola scanned the room, noting the empty desk on the opposite side of the anteroom. She raised her chin: “I have an appointment with Teddy Marshall. Where is Yee?”

  The man reacted to her haughtiness with a tense jaw. “Your name please, miss?”

  “I don’t have time to be questioned by a...an underling,” Lola huffed. She walked determinedly toward the vacant desk. Once there, she glanced at the appointment book, reading upside-down quickly. She slapped her gloves against her hand impatiently and turned a glare toward the security man. “Where is Mrs. Yee, I said.”

  “She’s not here, miss. As you can see.” He gritted his teeth by way of a smile.

  “Are you insinuating that I am blind? I can see she’s not here. I didn’t ask where she isn’t. I asked where she is.” Lola punctuated her apparent displeasure with a slap of the gloves. “Never mind. Teddy Marshall’s expecting me.” She whirled around and headed for the inner door.

  The man was at her side immediately. He placed a strong hand on her elbow. “You can’t go in there, miss.”

  Lola looked down at his hand incredulously. “Are you touching me?” She wriggled her arm, trying to free it from the iron grip. “Let go of me, you goon.”

  The outer door swung open. A grey-haired woman in burgundy stared at them. The man immediately dropped Lola’s arm. Lola pulled herself up to her full height and slapped him across the cheek.

  “This is completely unacceptable,” Lola sputtered. She turned to the older woman. “Mrs. Yee, I presume?” At the woman’s nod, she continued. “I am Mrs. Charles Butler-Smythe. I have an appointment at two o’clock with Teddy Marshall. Kindly let him know that I am here.” She narrowed her eyes at the security man. “You can be sure I shall bring this up in my meeting.”

  Mrs. Yee bustled across to her desk. “Yes, I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding, Mrs. Butler-Smythe. Mr. Copenhagen isn’t in the office at the moment. Let me see....”

  Lola sputtered again: “Isn’t in the office? What do you mean by that? My secretary set this meeting weeks ago. To talk about the Museum benefit next month.” She pulled her head back slightly and looked down her nose at the secretary. “I’m newly appointed to the Board, you see.”

  The security man remained at his post, one wary eye on Lola, the other on Yee. Lola ignored him and focussed her indignation on the assistant. “What is going on here? Where is Teddy Marshall?”

  The older woman raised her head from the appointment ledger and smiled apologetically at Lola. “I’m afraid, Mrs. Butler-Smythe, there’s been a mix-up.” She eyed Lola’s hat. “Your appointment is for next week.” Her finger tapped an entry in the book. “At half past two.”

  “Are you quite sure?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Butler-Smythe, I am. You see, Mr. Copenhagen is at the Veteran’s Hospital groundbreaking ceremony this afternoon.” She tapped the ledger again. “And it says here quite clearly that you are scheduled for April 17.”

  Lola flushed hotly. “Well, I shall be having words with my secretary. Good day!” She spun on her heel and marched out. As she passed the security guard, he gave her a triumphant smirk. Lola kept her face tightly controlled until she was back in an elevator, heading down. As the old operator cranked the doors closed, she allowed herself a grin.

  * * *

  The site of the future Crescent City Veteran’s Hospital was on the northeastern outskirts. Lola drove due east from the Copenhagen building, skirting some rougher slums to the south, and directly passing by the largest cemetery headstone and monuments maker in the City. An enormous carved statue of a tiered pagoda stood at the entrance to the outdoor show lot. After that, the car repair shops, appliance sales stores and dinky diners seemed disappointingly anti-climactic.

  The line of parked cars began a block before Lola reached the right place. She skimmed onward, and eventually parked a block past everybody else. She walked pass a seemingly unending line of black cars. Some had liveried drivers. Others had drivers dressed in regular suits. All the drivers watched her as she walked by. She nodded politely, keeping an unhurried pace as she followed the fencing along the sidewalk. Lola had to round the corner before she found the nearest entrance. It was an opening in the fencing, large enough for trucks to access. She spied another black car, its nose pointing out into the street, straddling the sidewalk and blocking the entrance. Not that it mattered today, thought Lola. There was no construction happening yet. Still, she wondered if it was Teddy Marshall’s car. She craned her neck, searching for a driver. As she neared, she finally caught sight of a single yellow-robed Conjurer by the passenger side back door. It was a woman just about as tall as Lola herself. The woman’s hood was down and her black hair shone in the sunlight. Intense eyes in a thin face, she scanned the surroundi
ng neighbourhood, the street, passing cars and pedestrians.

  “Dammit,” muttered Aubrey. “Mayor’s here.”

  “Lot of political cache in hospitals,” Lola commented. As she approached the entrance, the Conjurer stared hard at her. Lola smiled politely.

  Behind the Conjurer’s left shoulder was a large sign, raised into the air on wooden stilts:

  Future Site of the Crescent City Veteran’s Hospital

  A Joint Venture by Crescent City Municipal Authority and Copenhagen Industrial, Inc.

  Engineering by J.G. Cheng and Associates

  Lola could hear speaking from within the fenced area. She looked behind the Conjurer, trying to see past her.

  A couple of flashbulbs were in the group, and Lola recognized one of Ria’s colleagues, in rolled-up shirt-sleeves and a brown tie. Otherwise, it was a group of sleek business suits surrounding a slightly raised platform. Mayor stood on the platform, along with his usual complement of three Conjurers, dressed in their distinctive mustard-yellow robes. One on either side of Mayor, watching the crowd. The third stood behind Mayor and faced away. On the platform with Mayor were also three men in suits.

  A tall, slender man stood hatless in the centre of that group. His silver hair gleamed in the afternoon sun. To his left was a shorter man wearing a hard hat—the City’s head public liaison officer, Ernesto Chin. To the right of the silver-haired man was another Chinese man. He had salt-and-pepper hair and wore a neutral expression. Lola guessed he might be J.G. Cheng.

  Lola brought her attention back to the Conjurer standing guard by Mayor’s car. “I’m here for Mr. Copenhagen,” she said.

  “Are you with his office?” asked the other woman. She was watching the space just past Lola’s left ear. Lola wondered briefly if Aubrey was giving a polite smile.

  Lola shook her head. “No, I’m an investigator on a private matter. Can you tell me which is his driver?”

  The Conjurer watched Aubrey for a few silent moments. Finally, she said, “Mayor will be done shortly. You can wait out here.” Then she pointed to the left of the entrance. Lola followed her gesture and saw a bored-looking man in dove grey livery, complete with cap, reading a newspaper as he leaned against the side of a gleaming black Packard. “That one,” supplied the Conjurer.

  Lola thanked her and retreated a couple paces until she was all but leaning on the right-hand gatepost. She watched the group of people again.

  The photographers were getting their cameras ready as Copenhagen hefted a ceremonial shovel. Chin and Cheng were asked to step in closer to him, and the three men smiled for the flashbulb moment. Next came photographs with Mayor for the three men. Then, there were individual shots with Mayor. Lola noted with interest that the Conjurers made certain to stay out of the frame. She wondered cynically if that was part of their special training. She waited another five minutes as handshakes and big smiles were passed around. Finally, Mayor and his Conjurers stepped away from the crowd of reporters and photographers. Copenhagen, Cheng and Chin stayed behind. Lola cursed inwardly. She caught the faintest whisper of a curse from Aubrey.

  “Best smile forward,” he said. “Let’s make it short.”

  Lola grimaced at his imperious tone, but she didn’t have time for a comeback. Mayor had noticed her. He paused slightly, said something to his pack of guards, then smiled at Lola as he approached.

  “Lola, what a strange place to see you.”

  “Mayor,” she acknowledged. “I’m on a job.” She glanced at the Conjurers surrounding him. They stared, just as intently as the first Conjurer had. Lola cleared her throat. “Your guards jake with Aubrey?”

  Mayor nodded. “As ever.” He greeted Aubrey with another polite smile. Lola squinted, just a little, trying to make out Mayor’s features. It was difficult against the bright sunshine. His outline wavered. Lola recalled that Matteo Esperanza had thick brown hair, always cut neatly with a side part. The transition to Ghosthood, however, had leached it of colour. Now, Mayor’s hair was just a faint shade of blonde. He was still tall and trim, though; broad-shouldered and slender-hipped. He wore a sharply tailored suit, the only suit that Mayor was ever seen in. Lola guessed that Ghosts created whatever wardrobe they wished for themselves. She’d never asked Aubrey, and she had no intention of doing so now.

  Mayor’s deep black eyes watched Lola. His mouth was just slightly quirked upward. “I hope your job isn’t to do with this hospital, Lola. We’ve just barely broken ground.” He spoke lightly.

  “Not at all.” Lola kept her tone polite. “Just here to find Mr. Copenhagen.”

  Mayor raised his eyebrows. “Teddy Marshall?” He chuckled under his breath. “Why do I suddenly have the urge to warn him?”

  Lola flicked her eyes at the Conjurers. They watched the surroundings and Aubrey with equal fervour. She replied, “I’m sure I don’t know.” She kept her expression neutral. “Please, don’t let me keep you.”

  Mayor left her words hanging in the silence for a moment. Then he smiled. “Always a pleasure, Lola. Give my regards to Grace.” He paused. “Although, there’s a good chance I may see her before you do, I suppose,” he murmured. He nodded to Lola’s right. “Aubrey.”

  Lola watched Mayor and his guards as they slipped into the waiting car and sped away.

  Aubrey said, “Why did you tell him?”

  “What? Why I’m here?” asked Lola, watching the group of men by the groundbreaking disburse.

  “It’s never a good idea to give anything away to him.”

  “Truth was easiest. Whatever I may think of him, I have to admit he’s never interfered directly with me.”

  “That you know of,” said Aubrey.

  “You can’t bait me.” Lola shrugged. “I don’t know what’s between you, and I don’t care. If you want to nurse a grudge against Mayor, you’ll have to get in line.”

  Lola tracked Copenhagen as he walked through the entrance and turned left. She called out.

  “Mr. Copenhagen?”

  He smiled blandly, readying a handshake.

  “Mr. Copenhagen, I’m Lola Starke, an old friend of Amber Jade’s. Can we talk for a minute?”

  Copenhagen’s smile tightened and his hand dropped to his side. He glanced back toward the platform. The photographers chatted amiably as they smoked. Cheng and Chin had one reporter each, standing five feet apart and jotting notes furiously as the men spoke. Copenhagen returned his attention to Lola with obvious reluctance. He dropped the pretense of the smile.

  “Your name means nothing to me.” He continued walking, picking up his pace. Lola easily lengthened her stride to keep up.

  “I went to Rose Arbour Preparatory School with your wife. She’s recently hired me for a job. I’m a private investigator.” Lola held out her state license and ID.

  “Ex-wife. What does any of that have to do with me?” Copenhagen reached his car, but held up his hand to the driver, who in turn stepped away. He hadn’t looked at Lola’s credentials.

  “To be honest, Mr. Copenhagen, I have ethical questions about taking the case, and I’m looking into Amber Jade’s background.”

  “No one calls her that anymore.” He nodded to his chauffeur, who stepped in and opened the door. Copenhagen looked at Lola directly. “I’m not in the habit of gossiping about my ex-wife. We parted on amicable terms.” He slipped into his car. His driver closed the door and went around to get behind the wheel. The shiny black car pulled away and sped down the street. Lola watched it turn the corner. A small smile played on her lips as she walked to her own car.

  “Bit of a starched shirt,” said Aubrey.

  “I’m not done with ex-husbands yet,” Lola said.

  Chapter Eight

  Lola got a perverse pleasure driving up Hill Way in her scuffed old Buick. She passed innumerable gated palaces, invisible behind white-w
ashed walls. Here, along Hill Way, all the black iron gates ended in miniature pikes at their sculpted tops. Lush greenery exploded from behind high walls, obscuring the enormous homes within. Lola’s destination appeared much like the others. A brick-topped wall of blindingly white adobe led her to its entry gate. The Chinese character for serenity, wrought in calligraphic black iron, adorned the gate’s centre.

  Lola stopped in front of the gate and idled. A short square of a man opened a door in the wall, to the left of the gate, and walked briskly over to Lola. As he neared, he tipped his cap to her, revealing gleaming black hair.

  She smiled. “Da Silva, I thought you’d have moved on to better things by now.”

  “You and everyone but my agent.” He returned her smile with a toothy grin. “How’ve you been keeping?”

  “Not spoiling yet. Is he up?”

  “Oh yeh,” grinned Da Silva widely. “Mrs. Lee has him on a regimen. Up every morning by nine.” The guard guffawed.

  Lola raised her eyebrows. “Wonders never cease.”

  “Telling me. Anyhow, go right on up. This time of day, he’s likely by the pool. Mrs. Lee likes him to swim.” Another mischievous grin.

  Lola voiced her thanks and waited while he pushed open the doors. They swung open noiselessly, perfectly poised on their hinges. Da Silva waved her through, then closed the gate. Lola saw him walking back to the gatehouse, apparently talking to himself.

  Aubrey sounded amused. “Deanna is as chatty as ever. I barely got a word in.”

  “She’s well?” asked Lola, navigating down the long drive. A line of palms lined both sides, but it was still wide enough that no shade was thrown on the car.

  “As can be expected for someone so young.” A chuckle. “She thinks his lucky break’s just around the corner. She can feel it.”