Die on Your Feet

by S. G. Wong

  “I’m sorry,” she replied as gently as she could manage. “It was murder. The police are looking into it, of course.” It was painfully inadequate even to her own ears. Lola waited for more questions, her jaw clenched.

  “I suppose,” said Wing, looking around at his yard. The shears in his hand caught his attention and he compressed the handle, making them snik as the blades scissored together. “I suppose they’ll be asking me more questions again.” He sighed and turned away. Lola stayed on the grass. Wing put the shears down on a small workbench. He took a few steps toward the back door before he turned back to Lola. “Thank you for coming by. I’ll ring you with details for the service.” He paused as a thought came to him. “Both services,” he added. “I guess I’m responsible for them both, now.”

  “I’m sorry for your bereavement,” said Lola, offering the ritual response. She clamped her lips against the bitter taste in her mouth.

  Wing stared at her, clearly lost in his own thoughts. Lola nodded her goodbye and departed. As she walked around to the street in front of the houses, she breathed as deeply as possible, trying to calm herself. Her stomach was rebelling against the coffee, and her head was already beginning to pound. She remembered suddenly that she hadn’t had anyone look at her head since she’d smashed it the previous night. That thought led her back to Arbogast’s body and just like that, she was breathing shallowly, trying her damnedest to avoid vomiting right on Wing’s pretty flagstone path. Lola staggered to her car and slid inside. She rolled down the windows and started the engine. Cool air streamed inside as she drove down the street.

  “It’ll get easier,” said Aubrey. “Even if it never goes away.”

  “I barely knew the man,” replied Lola. “Not sure you can grieve for a virtual stranger.”

  After a moment, the reply came: “I meant the guilt.” Lola felt like she’d been socked in the gut. She breathed as best she could through the pain, kept her eyes on the road, and drove out of the little community of Southern Plains.

  By the time she made it up to Ria’s desk at the Herald, Lola was composed once more. She came right to the point.

  “I’m making good on my promise. Clear?” She took a deep breath before speaking. “My client was murdered last night. I don’t have a lead on the story for you, but you should start annoying a pair of DIs named Bednarski and Marks.”

  Ria scratched down the names with a pencil. “You spill on your client to them?”

  “No choice,” replied Lola lightly. She clutched the back of Ria’s visitor’s chair. “I found the body.” Lola felt suddenly weak-kneed. She decided to sit.

  Ria’s eyes bulged. “Are you all right? Where was this? What happened? What were you doing there?”

  Lola put up her hands. “I can’t give you all the details right now—” Ria screwed up her face, clearly ready to argue, “but I swear that I will, as long as you don’t ID me in the piece,” Lola finished quickly.

  “Don’t be a complete twit,” retorted Ria. “I want to know if you’re jake, you crazy broad.”

  “Sure,” replied Lola. “I’m here, aren’t I?” She swallowed hard past the thickness in her throat. “Anyway, I didn’t want you crabbing that I didn’t hold up my end.” Lola stood up. “I gotta make tracks. Loose ends.”

  Ria eyed her suspiciously. “Whatever you say, angel,” she said, clearly dubious. “Make sure you ring me, doll. You know I hate worrying about you.”

  Lola nodded, turned away, and threaded quickly back through the maze of reporters’ desks. When she got to her car, she found two surprises waiting for her.

  Thick tipped his hat. “She wants to see you.”

  “Now,” added Thin with a smirk.

  “Get off my car,” said Lola. “I know the way.”

  The two men pushed off her car with exaggerated care. They smiled insincerely at her before sauntering toward their black Packard. It was parked immediately behind her Buick. Thick hesitated after he opened the driver side door. “After you, Princess.”

  Lola got in, started up and cut into traffic. It was a short drive across a few blocks of downtown. She stashed her car as soon as she found a spot along the block. She walked briskly down the sidewalk and up the grand front steps, now contemptuously familiar. Lola walked over the gleaming marble and plush carpeting underfoot, wondering if the thugs would show up behind her suddenly or if they’d already be waiting in the office. When she knocked on the anteroom door, she was surprised to see an assistant at the desk. The stocky young man grimaced at Lola and told her to go right in. Lola glanced behind her, but neither Thick nor Thin were in view. She pushed open the inner office door and stepped inside.

  The Assistant Deputy Commissioner of Gaming greeted Lola with a sunny smile. “Good morning, Lola.” She waved her over from the vantage point at a window. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Sunshine streamed in and lit Copenhagen’s red hair with orange fire. She smiled false sympathy with carmine lips. “Rough night?”

  “Where’re Mutt and Jeff?” replied Lola.

  “Around,” Copenhagen said. “You’ve kept me waiting all morning. I was expecting you first thing.” She stepped to her desk and sat down. After a pause, Lola took the chair opposite and pulled out her cigarettes. Copenhagen moved an ashtray forward. “You owe me an explanation. I tasked you with finding poor Arbogast. I had no idea I needed to specify ‘alive.’”

  “That’s callous, even for you.”

  “Don’t translate your guilt into anger at me, Lola. I don’t have his blood on my hands.” Copenhagen leaned forward, pointed with one red-tipped finger. “You weren’t up to the task. Deal with it.” She sat back once more. “Mayor telephoned over this morning. I have a meeting with him this afternoon. He wants a full accounting from me personally of what Arbogast did for this department.”

  “You going to spill on the extortion ring?” asked Lola, eyes narrowed.

  Copenhagen nodded. “Of course. It’s the truth, after all.”

  “I doubt that, but I’m sure you’ve got all the proof you could make up to support your story.”

  “I do believe you’re accusing me of lying,” said Copenhagen. She waved dismissively. “No matter. I do have proof and I will show it to him. It’s my duty.”

  “How convenient that the only people who can dispute your story are dead.”

  “That had nothing to do with me. They made their choices. Poor ones, to be sure, but that’s not my problem. You see,” she continued, “I don’t bother with guilt. It’s just another way to wallow in self-pity, another self-indulgence I don’t need.”

  Lola took a pull on her cigarette, exhaled a blue plume of smoke. She kept her voice even. “Why drag his name through the mud? We both know he’s not the extortion leader. Why lie?”

  “I’m handing over the details of a large, City-wide criminal enterprise, uncovered due to a months’-long investigation I started and led. Of course I’m taking credit.”

  “Is that all this is? You’re just looking for a pat on the back? A way to boost your resume?”

  Copenhagen threw back her head and laughed. Her eyes sparked with contempt. “You really don’t understand the civil service, Lola, if you think that’s something to look down upon.”

  “You think you can claim the mayor’s chair someday?”

  Copenhagen shrugged. “Only if Mayor ever decides to retire, as it were. That could be a long time away, as I believe he chose Ghosthood exactly in order to hold office for eternity. No, I’m not interested in that. But Commissioner of Gaming, that’s another story. Breaking up this extortion ring is just the way to get noticed.”

  “What if I had proof that says different?” said Lola. “What if I had another theory, just as provable?”

  Copenhagen was already shaking her head. “You’re a terrible bluffer. I know you’ve got nothing. There is no oth
er possibility. I can easily prove that Arbogast ran that ring. I’ve got all the ledgers and statements I need, Lola. Arbogast has been pegged by over twenty mah-jongg parlours.”

  “You planned it well, I have to give you that,” answered Lola. “You made sure no one ever linked you to the ring. As the bagman, Arbogast was the only person those managers had regular contact with. I’d be willing to bet your two thugs were careful to stay separate from him as well. You made sure Arbogast entered those figures himself, while you watched. No one would suspect daily meetings between the Assistant Deputy and a department accountant. No one would ever suspect you of extorting money from gambling parlours of all things. Especially since you’re also a wealthy heiress in your own right.” Lola took another drag of her Egyptian. “Why would you possibly need the money?”

  “I think you’ve disproved your own theory, Lola,” replied Copenhagen. “Why would anyone believe that story? Without corroboration? Without any witnesses?” She shook her head. “If that’s all you’ve got, it’s pathetically little. I will make my case against Arbogast, Lola. You can count on it. I understand from my secretary that you have the appointment before mine with Mayor. If you’re considering trying to persuade him of your little story, I suggest you think again. You’ll only make a fool of yourself.”

  Lola cocked her head, calculating her next approach. “So this is what it’s come to, for you? A shot at becoming Commissioner of Gaming?” She inflected the title with derision. “That’s a far cry from being the best natural talent in Conjury in recent memory. Do you know that’s what your instructors at the College had to say about you?”

  “Beg your pardon?” said Copenhagen, her voice icy.

  “You can’t be surprised I made some inquiries,” said Lola. “Your heavy-handedness all but guaranteed that.”

  Copenhagen narrowed her eyes at Lola briefly before her expression smoothed out. She smiled and re-settled herself. “I’d think you’d have more compassion for me, Lola. After all, we’ve both chosen the paths our fathers wanted for us. We’ve both made hard choices to do so. I had to turn away from Conjury.”

  “Did you?” Lola asked. “I wonder. There are two years of your life that no public record can account for. Two years is plenty of time to hone your Conjury skills. Why you chose to do so in secret is the most pressing mystery to me.”

  Copenhagen clapped her hands, once, twice. “I’m impressed you got that far. My private life is not on the public record, for very good reason. It’s private. Whatever you think you know about me, I assure you, is wrong. I am a dedicated public servant, Lola. What you see is what you get.” She gave a European shrug. “Now, I’ve got some minor details to attend to. I suspect I shall see you again, this afternoon.”

  The door to her office opened. Copenhagen looked over Lola’s shoulder and bared her teeth in a smile. “My assistants will escort you out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lola took a left and slid to the curb halfway up the street. She sat for a moment, waiting. Watching. There had been no sign of a tail from the Gaming Commission Building, but she preferred to be certain. After a slow count to fifty, she swung herself out of the Buick. She melded with the flow of people on the sidewalk and waited at the corner upstream. She and about half the horde stepped out before the light had turned red. At the familiar cut-out doorway, she took the ground floor entrance.

  Sunlight streamed into the front room, barely held in check by flexible bamboo shades pulled across the large window. No one sat in the window seat, but a thin Chinese woman with iron-grey hair was in one of the chairs lining the wall. She looked at Lola with wary eyes, unsmiling. Lola knew better than to offer any smile of her own. The Chinese were suspicious of warm greetings.

  A bulb glowed dull red above a doorway leading to the back. Lola went behind the counter and checked Betta’s bookings for the day. Other than Mrs. Fung, promptly waiting for her noon appointment, Betta had nothing until half past two. Lola slid the book back into its place beneath the counter. She found Mrs. Fung watching her with open curiosity. Taking a page from her aunties’ teachings, Lola gave neither explanation nor acknowledgement of the old woman’s attentions. She picked up a newspaper and sat down at the end of the row, away from the sunshine.

  At ten to noon, the red bulb blinked off and the door opened. A stout man, neatly turned out in a cream suit, brown tie and sporty brogues, preceded Betta into the front room. They spoke in hushed tones while the man paid for his treatment. He made no other appointment. Betta greeted Mrs. Fung demurely and disappeared into the back room once more. Mrs. Fung waited for Betta’s return a few minutes later before accompanying her within. The red bulb switched on again. Lola finished the international section, re-folded it crisply, and moved onto City.

  “This is bad, Lola,” Aubrey said. His voice seemed tight, higher than usual.

  “I think you’d better be more specific,” murmured Lola.

  Aubrey didn’t respond for a few minutes. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer but still tense. “Copenhagen. She’s involved in Arbogast’s murder, Lola. I could feel it.”

  “We’re in agreement on that,” said Lola slowly. “What’s the bad part?”

  “No, you don’t understand. The same disturbance, the trail that led me to Arbogast. I sensed it in her office. I didn’t want to get too near her. I think she can see me. I think she’s just been pretending otherwise. Maybe to hide her Conjury background, I don’t know.”

  “So you didn’t get near enough to her to what? Smell her?”

  “You’re missing the point,” Aubrey said, impatient. “Copenhagen has the same disturbance around her that led me to Arbogast, which is the same disturbance that I sensed around Mayor.”

  Lola thought about that from a number of different angles. She couldn’t figure out the connection between Mayor and Copenhagen. Did they know one another or didn’t they? Did Mayor truly not know Arbogast? Why had Copenhagen gone to the trouble of hiring Lola on a bogus case? Just to renew their acquaintance so she could use Lola to bait Arbogast into giving himself up? But Lola didn’t believe he’d been running that extortion ring anyway, so that couldn’t be the reason. Copenhagen was the one running the extortion ring. Lola couldn’t prove Copenhagen had anything to do with the two murders, but her instincts were strongly in favour of that being likely.

  So, how did that tie in to Mayor? Why would he want Josephson and Arbogast dead? What would Mayor possibly have invested in the Gaming Commission? Like Copenhagen, he was also independently wealthy. He was already the most powerful being in the City. Was it a personal reason? Or a political one?

  Aubrey must have been having similar thoughts. He finally said, “It can’t be a coincidence, Lola, but damned if I can come up with a plausible reason for it.” He made a frustrated noise. “The more I think on it, the more questions come up.”

  “I’m going to finish reading the news,” murmured Lola. She snapped the pages out crisply. Aubrey grunted but said nothing more for a long while.

  By the time Betta escorted Mrs. Fung to the front door, Lola was in need of a good stretch. “Your chairs leave something to be desired,” she said as Betta turned back to her.

  Betta smiled and retreated into her back room. Lola stood, working on the cricks in her neck and spine. She picked up the paper, once more in immaculate condition, and replaced it on the pile in the corner of the window seat. Betta came back out.

  “Hungry?” she asked in her light voice. The smile brought out her crow’s feet, made her eyes glitter. Her hair was pulled back in its usual neat bun.

  Lola nodded. “You?”

  “Sorry about the wait. Mrs. Fung was very insistent.” Betta turned her attention aside, her face becoming sober. “Aubrey, is something the matter? You look worried.”

  “Just something on my mind,” the Ghost replied. “Nothing for you to fret ab
out.”

  Betta said nothing, just looked intent for a few seconds. Finally, she sighed. “You two are more alike than you’ll ever admit.” She busied herself finding her purse and putting a cardigan on over her pale blue shirtwaist dress. “Let’s go then. I’m ravenous.” She swung a little blue hat with feathered hatband in her hand but didn’t put it on.

  Betta locked up the front door and swung her sign around. Lola followed her back through the storefront and out into the rear alley. The shorter woman slid her arm through Lola’s and they walked that way down toward the mouth of the alley. Before they reached it, however, Lola turned left into a recessed doorway. She opened a heavy metal door and the smell of hot oil billowed out. Betta extricated her arm and walked down the dim hall until they came out into a crowded restaurant. Once within, Lola’s mouth watered at the scent of frying food, boiling soup and strong tea. A waiter with shiny black hair, somehow simultaneously looking welcoming and harried, waved the women over to a table beneath an embroidered wall hanging of horses stampeding through a narrow mountain pass. Lola heard Aubrey’s voice raised in polite greeting numerous times as they weaved through patrons and tables and bustling table-staff.

  Lola was content to let Betta do all the ordering. The waiter set down a white porcelain teapot, used a lead pencil to scratch out their order on a pad of paper curling at the corners, and left in a whirl. Two steps away from Lola and Betta’s table, he began shouting at a bus girl to clean up a table that had been abandoned a mere two seconds prior. Lola watched the chubby girl work feverishly, clearing dirty dishes in under a minute with loud clattering. Lola could tell the girl was no rookie, despite the two pigtails and smooth face, as she had managed to avoid even a single piece of broken pottery. The girl was back in about two minutes with chopsticks, bowls, tea cups and napkins. The table was barely ready when a family of four sat down and the mother began ordering while the waiter set down a plain white teapot. Lola could see a chip on its spout.

  “This is exactly what I need after a morning of long silences,” said Betta, smiling. “Thanks for coming by.”