by S. G. Wong
“Are we jake?” whispered Lola.
“I can’t figure it out,” Aubrey said finally. “It was so slight, but I know I felt a disturbance.”
“Does that mean a Spell was cast? Mayor’s ceremony?”
“No coincidences, remember? It has to be connected. I’ve just never felt a Spell reverberate like that.”
“So it could just be this mysterious ceremony,” said Lola. “You can debate the whys later. I’m leaving this room now.” She took a few moments to rehearse her move mentally. She would be exposed to anyone watching through the windows, but it was her best chance at leaving the room. Taking a deep breath, Lola stood, turned the door handle, swung open the door, stepped out, and closed the door behind her in one smooth motion. She immediately stepped to the side of the double-door frame and glanced down both ends of the hallway. Flattened against the wall, she kept her breathing easy and calm, and listened for approaching footsteps.
“There’s a trail of sorts,” began Aubrey in a halting voice. “I think I can direct us to the disturbance.”
Lola nodded. “Likely our best way to the ceremony. Lead on.”
“Down the hall. No, away from the foyer, toward the back.”
Lola moved swiftly along the edge of the hall, avoiding the centre, as it had the highest likelihood of creaks from constant use. A few feet down, she had to creep past the kitchen doorway. A quick peek within revealed a rack of pots and pans, hanging over a large butcher’s block, a wall of counter space and cupboards, and Jiang’s back as he chatted with a woman who luckily had her head mostly hidden by the open icebox door. Farther on, past the kitchen door, the hall then took a sharp turn to the right. Lola cursed. The kitchen opened onto this hallway as well. This time, Lola couldn’t count on the angles. She’d pass right through Jiang’s periphery. Glancing down the hall she’d already traversed, Lola made sure it was still empty as she waited impatiently for Jiang and the woman—perhaps a cook—to shift.
She heard the majordomo say he was going to check on their guest.
“Hurry,” said Aubrey. “The trail’s stronger down this way. We won’t have much time when he finds you gone.”
Lola pressed her lips tightly together and watched the two servants through narrowed eyes. She judged her moment and slid past the doorway. There were three doors on the left of the hallway. All opened into a vast room, darkened now. Lola could see clear through the space to the far wall and its triple sets of French doors that presumably opened onto a rear garden and the rest of the grounds. On the right side of the hall, along with the access to the kitchen, Lola also found a set of back stairs, likely for the servants. Another very European feature, she thought. Just past those, the hallway met the corner of the building. Lola guessed it must lead back through the side of the house and that sitting room to the right of the front foyer. There may even be another large public drawing room or some sort of public entertaining space. The library she’d been in struck her as much more intimate.
She paused at the bottom of the servants’ stairs and glanced around. Grateful for whatever luck had been with her thus far, she quickly crept up the first few steps.
“Wait,” said Aubrey. “Go back. The trail’s too faint here.”
Lola obliged, wondering how much longer before her luck ran out entirely.
“Stop,” commanded Aubrey. “Into the ballroom.”
Lola hesitated. It was utterly black inside the room, and she wasn’t about to announce her presence with a light. A clatter of footsteps came from the front of the mansion. She couldn’t make out words but the urgent tone rang clearly. Lola stepped into the ballroom and scanned the murky space. “Do we go through here?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. The feeling’s strongest here.”
“Can you see anything in the Ether in here? I’m as good as blind.” Lola made her way with cautious steps, keeping close to the wall. She heard hard footsteps and heavy treading from above.
“It doesn’t work like that,” replied Aubrey in a distracted tone. “It’s a feeling. And it’s concentrated...here.” He paused. “I can’t make out what it is. I’ll come back and lead you to it.”
Lola felt pressure on her left side, so she veered left. Judging by the angle to the doors, she knew she was walking toward the centre of the room. Feeling foolish, she groped through the air in front of her and took awkward sweeping steps. It was slow progress, made more maddening as she heard the sounds of Mayor’s security coming alive through the building.
“It better be close,” she whispered. “They’ll be on top of us s—” Lola’s foot caught on something in the dark. She lost her balance. Her hands, reaching blindly out for something to catch her fall, brushed against soft fabric. She clutched at it convulsively, wondering what sort of Spell instrument it might be, but it clearly wasn’t sturdy enough to hold her up. She felt a change in air pressure, heard a faint pop, and realized she’d somehow broken a Spell, not just brushed against it. She cursed. Whatever she’d tripped over must have been propped up with magic and that magic had just disappeared. The fistful of fabric was suddenly a heavy weight that came with her as she crashed to the floor, landing across her torso. Unable to break her fall, Lola landed on her head. She cried out as her head bounced and smashed against the floor again. The crack as her skull met the hard wooden floor reverberated in the echoing space. Stunned and dazed, Lola was unaware of anything for a few seconds save a static-filled noise within her head. She came out of it intensely aware of a weight on her. She immediately jack-knifed her body, trying to push it off, feeling a sick revulsion crawl across her skin.
She panicked when the weight rolled but wouldn’t budge. She didn’t know which way to turn to roll it off all the way. “Get it off, get it off.”
The lights overhead suddenly came on. Lola cried out again as an explosion of pain rocketed within her head.
“Hold it right there,” shouted a man’s voice.
“Get it off,” Lola replied. She tried to open her eyes but they refused to cooperate. She tugged at her hands, caught between herself and the dead weight. The movement rocked her head painfully.
“Lola, stop,” said Aubrey. “They’re coming over.”
Lola couldn’t comply. The compulsion to get out from under the weight overrode all else. She pushed and shoved, managed to get her eyes open to slits. After an eternity, a shadow fell over her face and she felt hands on her shoulders. They held her in place as the weight was pulled off of her. Then she was pulled up to standing. She swayed a little, nausea clawing at her gut. When she opened her eyes fully, her gaze fell to the dead body that had trapped her. She felt her stomach drop.
Bodewell Arbogast laid face up, an expression of pain and fear etched into his features. His light green eyes were now dark and filming over. His coffee-with-cream skin had turned grey. His rumpled clothes and splayed limbs were difficult to look at. But she refused to turn away. It was the only thing she could give him now.
A dull roar sounded in her ears.
Lola blinked. She pulled her gaze away from her dead client. She watched dully as St. John walked briskly toward her and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. “What the hairy hells are ya doing here?”
Lola winced audibly as the pounding in her head resumed. She had to close her eyes against the light again. She heard voices around her. Mayor’s security explained what they’d seen, once the lights had come on.
“Dammit, girl.” St. John’s gentle tone belied the curse. “This is a right fine kettle of fish you’ve turned over. Hey, all right, yeah, we’ll get her story soon enough. Can you snag me a chair? And a glass of water?” He stayed with Lola, a firm grip on her shoulders. “Tell me you’ve been downstairs this entire time.”
“I’ve been downstairs this entire time,” Lola said dutifully.
St. John made an irritated sound. “That had b
etter be the truth, girl. You’re in a mess of trouble.”
“He was my client. Bodewell Arbogast. I lost him this afternoon,” said Lola.
“That was alarmingly close to babbling,” said St. John. “Let’s get you sat down, shall we? Plenty of time to tell your story later.”
Lola sat where he placed her, drank as ordered and generally gave an accurate impression of being a docile simpleton. It wasn’t a ruse.
People began arriving, then: more members of Mayor’s personal security, in crisp suits and tense expressions; Mayor, trailed by three Conjurers; and Grace, her expression thunderous, followed by two men Lola recognized as part of her mother’s security.
“Let me talk to your mum now, girl. And for the love of all that’s holy, do not move off of this chair.”
Lola nodded slowly. Ignoring her mother’s furious gaze, she watched Mayor instead. He wore a sweater over a collared shirt and dark tie. Lola couldn’t tell the colours well. She didn’t know if it was the lighting or his state. Around him stood a huddle of mustard-yellow robes and suits. His Conjurers made sure to place themselves between their charge and Lola. They faced outward, their eyes trained to a spot just above her right shoulder. Apparently, Aubrey was staying close to her. Mayor glanced at Lola a number of times as his people tried to explain how they had discovered Lola pinned beneath a lifeless body.
Finally, he approached, stopping a good five feet from her, and studied the body of Bodewell Arbogast. After a minute or so, Mayor swiveled to face Lola. His eyes were probing as he finally spoke. “Do you know him?”
Lola nodded. Mayor stared at her for a few more seconds, his eyes flicking to Aubrey briefly. “The police are on their way. Let’s wait in my study. If you would, Grace?”
Lola’s mother nodded coldly and wheeled around. She stalked out of the ballroom and turned left. St. John signaled his men to follow Grace. Mayor gestured toward Lola. St. John helped Lola up and gave her his arm. She took deep breaths and walked as steadily as she was able. Mayor and his Conjurers came next, and one of his bodyguards brought up the rear. It was a silent procession. Before Lola exited the room, she glanced back. Four of Mayor’s suits stood guard over Arbogast. Two of them watched Lola with cold eyes.
The study was as one would expect: a large desk, a few built-in bookshelves, a fireplace, comfortable sitting area, masculine accoutrements. Lola, Grace and Mayor were the only ones to sit. The others spread themselves around the perimeter of the room and remained standing. No one spoke. The Conjurers had eyes only for Aubrey while the guards avoided eye contact for any length of time. St. John was as vigilant as his men. He stood just behind Grace’s left shoulder. Mayor attended to the telephone at his desk. Grace stared steadily at Lola, who turned and looked out the window at the dark.
Mayor returned the receiver to its hook. He motioned for Lola to approach. She chose one of the two club chairs in front of his desk.
Lola motioned toward the Conjurers. “What do they think? Is it murder?”
Mayor canted his head to the side. “You tell me.”
Lola took a deep breath. “Judging from the expression on his face, I’d say so.”
Mayor nodded abruptly. “The police should be here any minute. They’ll know one way or another. I prefer to hold off on the questions until I speak with them.” He stared at Lola until she got up and returned to her prior seat. She settled herself as calmly as she could and waited.
Eventually, the police arrived with their own glacial glares. They spoke with Mayor, just on the other side of the open study doors. There had to be a couple of detectives, but Lola didn’t catch a glimpse of them. At the end of the discussion, the cops continued deeper into the house, toward Arbogast. Mayor went with them and so did his Conjurers. Through the open study doors, Lola saw a middle-aged woman with a shock of gray hair and thick-rimmed glasses, carrying a large black tackle-box, walk after the group. The coroner, thought Lola. A couple of uniforms rounded out the humourless group.
St. John remained standing behind Grace. The other three security men were scattered around the study: one stood next to the windows, another by the study doors, and the third waited opposite him.
“This has gotten entirely out of hand,” said Grace. Lola swung her gaze back to her mother. “I should never have let Butch talk me into letting you do any of this.”
Aubrey murmured in Lola’s ear. “He didn’t have much say in the matter.”
Lola shrugged. “He knew me.”
Grace widened her eyes incredulously. “Murder, Lola? Dead bodies? How can you be so calm? Is it just all in a day’s work now? Is this how your father raised you?”
Lola sighed. “Leave him out of it.” She rubbed at her face and blinked eyes suddenly filled with grit. Or maybe she was only noticing it now. She added it to the growing list of physical complaints and shoved it out of mind.
“I have no idea what you thought,” Grace continued, “coming here, but I can’t help you out of this, Lola. I don’t even know where to begin.”
Lola rubbed her face again. She rose, walked slowly over to Mayor’s desk, fished out a cigarette from an enameled box and lit it up. She grimaced with her first exhalation and returned to the sofa. Grunting slightly, she sank into the cushions and closed her eyes, absently rubbing at her temple with her free hand. The image of Arbogast, dead, rose up immediately. The rumpled clothes and splayed position disturbed her deeply for some reason. Lola felt her heart squeezed with regret. What the hells was he doing here? Why would he be in the middle of Mayor’s ballroom? What had killed him? Was it Copenhagen, as he’d feared? How had she got him in here then?
The questions rose too rapidly for Lola to keep track of. They swirled in her mind in a riot. She refused to open her eyes, though, forcing herself to stare inwardly at the memory of her dead client’s final expression.
Lola heard the scuff of feet at the study doors. She opened her eyes and watched as the guard immediately blocked the entrance. A few sharp words were exchanged and the man stood aside. A stubbled face surveyed the room, then zeroed in on Lola.
Inspector Bednarski seemed disappointed. “You found your client.”
Lola grimaced as she tapped her cigarette ashes into an ebony ashtray. She leaned back against the sofa cushions. Grace was on the end opposite Lola, but she watched the two cops warily as they approached her daughter. Bednarski parked his bulk in a wingback armchair, while Marks stood at attention directly across from Lola. Unlike his partner, his clothes looked freshly pressed. Dark pouches underscored his eyes, however.
Mayor entered within minutes of the two murder cops. He spoke in quiet tones to his three Conjurers as he walked into the room. The Spell Casters flicked their glances regularly over to Lola, but none of them approached her.
“They’re wondering about me,” Aubrey said in a low voice. “I don’t know why.” Lola felt his tenseness as his silence stretched out. “It still feels queer in this place.” Another pause. “Especially around him. I can feel it from here.” Mayor now stood, conversing with his Conjurers, about ten feet away from Lola. “There’s something...not right—” Aubrey abruptly stopped talking.
Mayor had finished with his Spell Casters. They formed a tight semi-circle behind him as he walked toward the seated group. Mayor gave Grace a reassuring look before settling in the armchair opposite from Bednarski. His Conjurers arranged themselves behind him. They ignored Lola, kept their eyes on Aubrey.
“Inspectors,” said Mayor, “let’s hear what Miss Starke has to say. Then I’ll add what I know.”
Lola smoked her cigarette. “As the detectives already know, Bodewell Arbogast was my client. He hired me to find his lover, Mr. Joseph Josephson. But Mr. Josephson was recently discovered dead, an accidental heroin overdose. I believe Mr. Arbogast went mad from the shock. He’d already been in denial about Mr. Josephson’s drug addiction. It didn
’t make any sense to him, and he claimed that Mr. Josephson had been murdered. I’ve been searching for Mr. Arbogast since this afternoon.” She paused to take a drag on her cigarette. “But that’s not the reason I came here tonight.” She glanced at Grace. “I was concerned about my mother.”
“Why?” asked Bednarski.
Lola looked at Mayor. He returned her gaze, an expression of curiosity on his face. Lola considered her words before continuing. “I knew that she was involved in something tonight, something concerning Mayor’s Death Moon. Aubrey didn’t like it.” She shrugged. “So we came.”
Grace interjected. “Really, Detective Inspector, it’s nothing but misguided intentions. Sometimes these two get it into their heads that I need their protection. We agree to disagree. I met with Lola prior to...I mean, earlier, when they first arrived here. I had all but convinced them to leave when Jiang invited them to stay.” She turned her gaze to Mayor. “He said you wanted to visit with them.”
Mayor nodded. “Yes, I was curious about their arrival.”
“And your Ghost, he much for magic?” asked Marks suddenly.
Lola raised an eyebrow at the seemingly unrelated question. “No, he was my mother’s childhood friend and her dresser. Not a lot of study time for Conjury.”
“But Ghosts, all Ghosts, can handle simple Wards,” countered Marks.
“Doesn’t make them Spell Casters, though. Isn’t that correct?” she asked Mayor. “I understand you had to train for years.”
Mayor smiled genially as he nodded. “I can vouch that Aubrey isn’t a dangerous magic user, Detective Inspector.”
“There was a Ward on the library, where we waited,” said Lola. “And yes, Marks, I know about it because I tried to get out. I’m naturally curious that way. But the Warding disappeared suddenly. That’s how I left the room.” Lola finished her cigarette and tamped it out in the ebony ashtray. “I knew Mayor’s security would find me soon enough, but Aubrey had been disturbed by something in the Ether. So I went exploring. We tracked it to the ballroom.”