by S. G. Wong
The hairs on Lola’s neck prickled. “What now?” she asked, rubbing her neck. She glanced back at the darkened doorway to the office.
“Sorry, I felt a sudden chill.”
“I thought you didn’t feel changes in temperature,” she said.
“I don’t. I’m not sure—”
Lola didn’t wait for any more. She scanned the open drawers. To her surprise, everything was neatly labeled and organized. Files on gambling establishments. Licenses and license requests. Files of wealthy Crescent City citizens. Her mother was there, as were a number of other popular film stars and studio owners. There was nothing on the name she’d recognized earlier, but she did find a file on herself, a thick one. Lola pulled it out and flipped through it. She saw an old photograph, the only one she and Martin had released to the papers. It was from their honeymoon,
Aubrey spoke urgently into her ear. “Go, Lola, now. I think...a broken Ward—”
“You’re supposed to warn me before that happens,” Lola muttered. She hefted her file and closed the cabinet drawers. It locked audibly. She pulled the shoulder duffel off. In went the file. She pulled it back over her head and strung it across her chest. She strode rapidly to the door, head turned over her shoulder to scan the dark room a final time.
“Lola!” Aubrey called out.
She felt a faint movement of air by her ear. Lola turned her head. Too late. Pain exploded behind her eyes. She tasted blood and crumpled to the floor.
Chapter Eleven
Aubrey called her back from the depths, his voice urgent and worried.
“Lola. Lola, wake up.”
“Why are you whispering?” she groaned.
“Can you sit up?”
Lola didn’t know she’d tried until she awoke again. Her head was hammering out a jig. Her eyeballs felt gritty and swollen. She raised a wobbly hand to the back of her head. There was a knot the size of a small rock. She gingerly felt around inside her mouth. She remembered blood and felt a slight gash on the side of her swollen tongue. At least her teeth were intact.
She sat up slowly, stopping whenever the pounding threatened to overwhelm her. Clenching her teeth against a wave of nausea, Lola looked around the room. The lighting was low, as though set for an intimate gathering. She was on a chaise-longue, upholstered in turquoise floral. An enormous arrangement of flowers in a Chinese vase towered above her from its perch on a marble table behind the chaise. The walls were paneled in bookshelves. A set of solid double doors stood closed in the centre of one wall. Opposite them were glass-paned French doors.
Aubrey encouraged her to get up. “The room’s Warded. I can’t even see outside the walls.”
Lola stood with infinite care. It didn’t kill her, although she wished it had by the time she was upright. The cut on her tongue throbbed in time to her headache. She stumbled over to the double doors facing her, grabbing furniture for support. The ornate handle eluded her twice before she could squint enough to determine its true location. She rattled it: locked. She slapped a hand weakly against the heavy oak, then turned to lean her back against it. The room threatened to spin away from her. She concentrated on breathing deeply, her hands curled into white-knuckled fists.
A beam of moonlight lanced through the French doors. Lola shuffled toward it. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, closing her eyes for a moment against the renewed nausea. When she felt strong enough, she looked out on a well-manicured garden in the European wildflower tradition. Magnolia trees stood with their pearly white blossoms glowing in the moonlight. The dark expanse beyond the flowers sloped away into the night. Lola glimpsed a tall hedge in the distance, black in the silver light.
A sharp gasp from Aubrey overrode her better judgment and Lola whirled her head up. Bright spots filled her field of vision. She could see someone coming through the oak doors, but the face was obscured.
“Lola,” said the Assistant Deputy Commissioner of Gaming courteously. “I hope you’re feeling better. Can I get you a drink?”
Lola abandoned any pretense of pride. She reached out blindly. The back of her hand connected with a hard table edge. The sharp sting momentarily overcame the spinning pain in her head. The dancing spots in her eyes receded as well. She carefully walked back to the chaise.
“Don’t you sleep?” she asked wearily.
“As a matter of fact, rarely. I don’t seem to need it like I used to.” Copenhagen was fully dressed, as though for the office. She even held a slim file in her manicured hands. Her expression matched her amused tone.
“Must get dull after a while,” Lola said.
“Oh I don’t know about that. Sometimes I get visitors at unexpected hours. Helps to pass the time.” She threw the file on to a side table and disappeared behind the massive vase with its floral head. There was some clinking of crystal.
“I’ll take mine neat.” Lola carefully touched her head again, wincing.
Copenhagen reappeared with amber salvation in a cut crystal tumbler. She handed the fragrant whiskey to Lola. “You should be more careful when you break into people’s offices. You could have been seriously hurt. My assistants can be heavy-handed.” She cocked her head. “Although I must admit to some disappointment in Aubrey’s skills. That particular cabinet Ward was hardly the most subtle in my arsenal.” She sat down in an ornate armchair, relaxed and elegant. “Don’t misunderstand me, dear Aubrey, that was quite a feat, breaking through the building Wards.” She looked around. “Our hired Conjurers are powerful and expensive. Until tonight, we thought they were worth the cost.” Copenhagen returned her gaze to Lola. “Not suddenly shy, is he?”
Lola shrugged, then winced at the sudden movement. “He keeps his own counsel. I can’t force him to talk.”
Copenhagen smiled in amusement. “As you wish.” Her smile gained an edge. “I’m surprised at you, Lola. The great private investigator, unwilling to solve the mystery closest to herself.”
Lola stared at Copenhagen.
“Ah yes, back to our business together then.” Copenhagen pointed to the file. “If you wanted to see that, you could have asked. It would have saved you the trouble, not to mention the concussion.”
Lola recalled the tumbler in her hand. She breathed in the heady fumes, then tossed it down her throat. As the whiskey burned a trail down to her stomach, Lola watched the other woman with narrowed eyes.
Copenhagen smiled. “Go ahead. Read it. I’ve got nothing to hide. It’s my job to know who gambles in Crescent City and where they do it. You’re in the upper echelon, Lola. There’s no need for false modesty.”
Lola reached out her hand. The other woman rose to oblige, handing Lola the file.
The photograph was the same: Lola and Martin in elegant evening attire, surrounded by the lights of a sultry night on the coast of Southeastern Europe. Lola noted, with a faint trace of wistfulness, how young they both looked. The rest of the file contained a dozen sheets now, all neatly typed. Lola flipped to the back. The photographer’s stamp was dark against the whiteness. Clearly, Lola thought, Martin needed to vet his photographers more closely. She wondered how much the woman got paid to print and sell clients’ personal photographs to third parties. Sighing inwardly, Lola put the photograph aside and noted the date on the file. “It starts on my twenty-first birthday.”
“An infamous day in your gambling history, no? Ten thousand dollars in one round of mah-jongg. Poof, just like that?” Copenhagen chuckled. “I inherited some of the information from my predecessor. There’s nothing in there you don’t already know.” She showed her teeth in a grin. “It’s not as though you live below the radar.”
Lola flipped the file closed and tossed it down next to her on the chaise. “How about another?” she asked, holding up her tumbler.
Copenhagen obliged silently. She stayed standing, however, as Lola drank the second
whiskey in one swallow.
“You wouldn’t happen to have my cigarettes handy?” Lola asked.
“But of course,” replied the other woman, “you can collect them on your way out. I’ve called a car for you.”
“Just like that?”
Copenhagen nodded. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it? I’m sure you’re ready for bed. You really should rest that concussion,” she tsked.
Lola made no move to rise. She studied the crystal glass in her hands, turning it one way and then the other. Its facets sparkled and rearranged themselves. She put it down.
Copenhagen turned her attention to the room at large. “Aubrey? Surely you know, Aubrey, that breaking and entering is grounds for revoking her license.”
Lola noted Aubrey’s silence. She said, “Hard to prove I was ever there, unless you want to advertise your thugs’ handiwork.”
“You know as well as I, Lola,” replied the other woman, “this City doesn’t run on truth.”
“I don’t scare that easily.” It was Lola’s turn to grin. It hurt but she could ignore the pain.
“I’m not trying to scare you, Lola. I’m simply being honest.” Copenhagen walked to the oak doors. “I see no need to involve the police. Let’s chalk tonight up to youthful exuberance, shall we?” She drew open the doors and stepped to one side. Standing two abreast in the doorway, Thick and Thin sneered at Lola. Copenhagen gestured, “Shall my assistants help you out?”
Lola thought of the doodle she’d seen on Copenhagen’s blotter. She thought of throwing out Arbogast’s name to see a reaction. Instead, she gritted her teeth and stood on her own. She stalked out of the room. As she passed, Copenhagen laid a pale hand on her arm. “If I were you, I’d remind Aubrey that there are severe penalties for Ghosts breaking government Wards, Lola.” She squeezed, hard. “The stakes are higher than you comprehend. Don’t try to cross me again. You shall fail and I shall be less forgiving.”
Lola stood stonily, waiting until the woman released her. She walked stiffly down the corridor and into a large circular foyer. A double stairway climbed the walls, but there was no time to gawk. Thick and Thin marched Lola straight out the front doors and down the flagstone walk. By the time she reached the taxi at the curb, her jaw was aching from tension. Thin held open the cab door with a smirk. Lola climbed inside. A meaty hand held out her shoulder duffel. She stared at it, then grabbed it gracelessly, throwing it on the seat beside her. A final snicker and the door slammed shut. Lola snarled an address to the cabbie. The silent man drove her downtown where she retrieved her car.
Back in her apartment, she heaved the duffel at the foyer closet and stalked into her rooms. Through the undrawn drapes, she could see the first sliver of sunrise lighting the ocean surface. Most of the City was still in shadow, hidden from the rays by the foothills behind her. In the bathroom, she spilled out a couple of aspirin and filled a glass with cold tap water. She kept her eyes closed as she drank down the medicine.
In her bedroom, she sat down, unclenching her jaw with some effort, to make a call.
St. John answered on the second ring.
“You’re up early,” Lola said.
“You’re up late,” he replied.
“I just want to make sure Mother did as I suggested.”
“We’re leaving for Europe in two days.”
“Today would be better.”
“Not according to Grace it isn’t. She’s made promises.”
Lola grunted.
The silence was thick on the other end. Finally, St. John asked: “Do you want to leave her a message from you?” At Lola’s silence, he said: “I’ll let her know you called.”
“Just take care of her, St. John.”
“Get some rest, Lola. You sound like you need it.”
“My guardian angel.”
Lola rang off and dragged herself to the bed. She managed to kick off her shoes and climb beneath the covers. She thought she heard Aubrey but it was too much effort to listen. Instead, she welcomed the comfort of blackness as it wrapped itself around her battered body.
Chapter Twelve
Lola bolted upright, then clutched her head. Turning bleary eyes to the clock, she realized she’d been asleep fewer than six hours. The telephone was ringing. She wrapped the top sheet around herself and stumbled to answer.
“Lola! Lola, thank the gods, I’ve been trying you for over an hour.”
Lola’s stomach plummeted. “No need for dramatics, Mother. Didn’t Elaine tell you I was sleeping?”
“Darling, you sound terrible.” Lola heard a long inhalation. She imagined the lit cigarette in its black lacquered holder. “Well, that makes you the pot to my kettle. I daresay you’re the melodramatic one, leaving cryptic messages about threats and danger.”
“Mother, why are you calling?”
“How is Aubrey, dear?”
“He’s dead and Haunting me. Your guess is as good as mine, Mother.”
“No need to be rude, Lola. I’m worried about you. St. John said you’d called a number of times. I don’t see how any of your work would impinge upon me, but now it does somehow. Care to elaborate?”
“Mother, you know I can’t get into details. It would—”
“Don’t patronize me. I know perfectly well about confidentiality and professionalism. I didn’t ask, by the way. I just wanted to speak to you myself.” Lola could hear the cigarette tip being burned to ashes.
“Well, now you have. Satisfied?”
“Hardly, dear. But I don’t suppose that’s your job. No, what I want from you, my obstinate child, is an explanation. What is going on?”
“Mother,” Lola said, “I can’t explain any more than I have—”
“But you’ve said nothing!”
Lola continued without pause: “I told St. John the best thing is for you to leave for Europe today.”
“Simply impossible, darling. It’s impossible for me to cancel, even if I wanted to.”
“And, of course, you don’t want to.”
“Please,” she sighed, “It’s complicated. This is a long-standing commitment. I have no choice in the matter.”
“That’s rich.” Lola laughed humourlessly. “It appears, once again, Mother, that we are at an impasse. Shall we agree to disagree, just to keep things familiar?”
“Please darling. Don’t be a hard case.” Lola sat, silent. Her mother went on. “I know I can’t appeal to your regard for me, so I am appealing to your regard for poor St. John. If you don’t tell him, he’ll have a devil of a time doing his job.”
“I suspect that has been his job description ever since he started with you.”
“Oh you are incorrigible. And selfish.”
“Now who’s the pot?”
“Dammit, Lola. You may delight in tormenting me with rudeness and disrespect, but the fact remains that we are family. I deserve more from you than this, this relentless cruelty.”
“Mother, I haven’t given you half what you deserve.”
A heavy silence, then quietly: “Your father raised you better than this.”
“You have no idea how he raised me. You have no idea,” Lola repeated, her jaw clenched. She realized her hands were fisted. She carefully relaxed them and took a steadying breath. Her head was pounding. It beat at her reserves until she slumped in the chair.
As if sensing the change, her mother spoke. “This is getting us nowhere we haven’t already been. Too many times, in fact,” she trailed off for a moment, then, “Let’s let sleeping dogs lie, shall we?”
“It’s worked in the past,” Lola replied. “Goodbye, Mother.”
“The world isn’t the dark place you make it out, Lola. You don’t have to go it alone, darling.”
“Your days as a naif are long past, Mother. Goodb
ye.”
Lola rested her head in her stiff hands.
Aubrey spoke into the silence. “She’s right, you know.”
“Leave me alone, curse you.”
“Your father—”
“Shut your mouth.” Lola flung the cover sheet away. “Keep your damned mouth shut, haunt. You disgust me, you and the old whore. Neither of you even deserves to say his name.”
“That’s a damn fine way to make your father proud, Lola. I’m sorely disappointed in you.”
“So long as you do it somewhere else, I don’t give a good godsdamn what you are.”
Lola stalked into her bath and slammed the door. Thirty minutes later, she stalked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of steaming coffee. Elaine was already seated at the dining table, reading the Herald’s morning edition. She gestured toward the covered plate at Lola’s place as Lola sat down.
“Eggs and toast, beneath there. And a package came for you, early.”
“Package?” Lola sipped and immediately cursed as the coffee scalded her tongue. She put the mug down, muttering.
Elaine shrugged. “Mr. Wang said it was a messenger, a Chinese boy with freckles.” She grinned over the top of the newspaper.
Lola sat for a moment, willing the nausea to subside. She picked up a fork, uncovered her plate and started to eat, slowly. “Where is it?”
“I left it on your secretary. It can wait until you’ve eaten,” Elaine admonished, as Lola’s eyes wandered toward the maple desk.
Lola braced herself and got up. Spots danced in her vision as she made suspect progress toward the far corner of the apartment. “I’ve got a busy day. Might as well look at it as look at the news while I’m eating.”
“Dear gods, Lola, let me,” scolded Elaine. Her hands reached out to steady Lola, who was swaying where she stood.
“You really ought to stop sneaking up on me, Elaine.”
The other woman clucked her tongue: “Sawh ga lei. Don’t be a meathead.”
“I like it better when you call me ‘Miss Lola.’” Lola grinned faintly.