Got Luck

by Michael Darling

  “Oh. Anything you have to show me you can show Amad.”

  “How about I show you first, we’ll talk about it, and if you want to tell Amad—or anyone else—you can disclose it later. Just to be safe.”

  Milly shrugged. “All right. Amad, if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll need to be alone with Mr. Luck.”

  “Of course, Ms. Mallondyke. As you wish.”

  “And would you take that glass with you, please? Let’s keep the carpet nice.”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” I said, swooping down to snatch the glass. “I think I’ll get a refill on my way out.”

  Amad stood with his hand half-outstretched, his head bobbing up and down, his programming stuck between the command of his boss and the wishes of a guest.

  “Really,” I continued. “I’d rather keep it.”

  Amad gazed back and forth between me and Milly for another few seconds. His in-between expression was comical, but laughing would be unkind. Finally, he gave a little bow and limped out.

  “Amad is so sweet. I don’t what I would do without him,” Milly said.

  Pointing at the files in front of her, I asked, “Still settling things?”

  Milly nodded. “You’ve no idea. There are so many things to sort out. Barry hated using computers. He was always afraid of information getting lost or stolen. So he wrote notes in longhand, and I’m the only person, it seems, who can read them.”

  “Sounds like a challenge.”

  “He’d fly to Johannesburg for meetings and on those long flights, he’d compose whole notebooks of letters and meeting notes and things to remember. To be honest, I haven’t been able to find anything all that important for weeks. Barry’s father has been running things just fine from South Africa, but I think he keeps me on because he feels bad for me.”

  “And what does Amad do?”

  “Well, I can read the notes but I don’t always know what’s important. He tells me what to keep and what to file away and what to forward to somebody else.”

  “I see. Did you ever go to Johannesburg with Barry?”

  “Sure. Sometimes. The first time was when we were engaged. He took me to the corporate offices and his parent’s house and even the mining facility. Barry showed me how the diamonds are mined and cut and graded. Unlike other companies, we do everything ourselves. It’s how we became the only company in the diamond trade able to remain completely independent from the practical monopolies in South Africa and Belgium and the Netherlands.”

  “I’d imagine the security there is pretty tight.”

  “Unbelievably. Theft and smuggling are a problem, and Barry was constantly worried about it. Of course, there are security cameras everywhere. There are only two exits and both have a security checkpoint. Only one person at a time can pass through. As often as medically allowed, x-raying the workers will sometimes catch a thief. They have used radioactive paint on diamonds so that anyone taking stones out of the mine will be caught with a Geiger counter. Mostly though, Barry managed a group of spies and informants to keep the theft down. The reward for reporting a theft is higher than the value of a few diamonds. If you keep the workers paranoid and unable to conspire with each other, they tend to behave.”

  I was impressed with the depth of her knowledge. “What about the diamond cutters? What happens after the diamonds are brought in from the mines?”

  “There are only a few diamond cutters. It takes eight years to get certified, and by the time they have reached that position in the company, they are very loyal.”

  “You were only married a few months,” I said. “You must be a quick study.”

  “Oh, Barry shared everything with me. He didn’t have anyone else he could trust so he would go on for hours. I liked to listen to him talk and I remember things.”

  Milly was growing wistful and I had no intention of making her sad. But I had one more question. “Did Barry have access to diamonds without restrictions or supervision?”

  “Yeah, sure. He had samples brought in all the time for review so he could make sure the quality remained consistent and the grading was accurate. The workers gossiped about Barry, saying he had a stockpile of diamonds large enough to swim in. They weren’t entirely wrong. He had a very large collection of diamonds in reserve. But he had no reason to steal from his own company. He took extraordinary pride in the bottom line. He wanted to make sure all our employees would have a good job and a good wage, and that meant carefully controlling the value by controlling the sales.”

  I nodded. “Well, I have something to show you. It probably doesn’t mean anything, but there wasn’t a lot of detail in the police report, so I thought you might know more about it.”

  “Okay,” Milly replied. She sat up straight in her chair. Of course, the sigil was pretty darn significant, but if it didn’t mean anything to Milly, it would help rule her out as a suspect. I unfolded the napkin and watched for her reaction. It still looked alive and nauseating to me.

  “Oh,” she said. “They found that on the back of Barry’s neck, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I have no idea what that was. It was painted on, and Barry had never done anything like that before. I guessed that maybe he was thinking about getting a permanent tattoo or something.” Milly wiggled on the chair and shrugged. “I think tattoos are sexy, you know? Maybe he got the design inked on first and he was going to ask me if I liked it before making it permanent?”

  I believed her story. She hadn’t reacted suspiciously to the image on the napkin and the thought of her husband getting a tattoo for her would make sense to a young girl like Milly.

  I folded up the napkin and tucked it away. “That’s most likely what it was then,” I said. There was no way to explain to Milly that the sigil was part of a magic spell designed to make her husband passive while he was murdered. “Well, I have a few other leads I’m pursuing,” I said. “Do you mind if I take a look inside Barry’s office?”

  “No problem.” She stood up and led me next door.

  Barry’s office was designed to entertain as much as to conduct business. The walls were soothing tones of blue and white. It had a large desk, as expected, but it also had a seating area with comfortable couches, and a sideboard that would have held all sorts of liquor. A cabinet on the wall was closed but would hold a screen and other electronics since a video projector on the ceiling was pointed at it. A neighboring counter would be used for preparing and serving food. The table between the couches was spacious enough to hold a lot of paperwork. There was a private bathroom attached and it was nicely appointed as well. I could imagine Barry easily having several clients in meetings all day and deftly mingling meals and business without a hitch.

  “This is a beautiful office,” I said.

  I turned to find the door closed and Milly slumped against it. Her eyes were wide as she looked at Barry’s desk. With effort, she forced her eyes shut and covered her mouth. Tears rolled over her cheeks as a quiet sob struggled to come up. I resisted the urge to put my arms around her. It wasn’t easy.

  The first time I’d almost gotten fired from the police force came about because I never gave tickets to women who cried. If they were hardcore criminals, that was different. But a soccer mom who knew she’d gone a few miles an hour over the speed limit and was already blubbering by the time I approached her window? I’d just give her a warning every time.

  “I thought I’d be okay,” Milly mumbled. She started sliding down the wall.

  That’s all it took.

  I caught her in my arms before she hit the floor and tried to make a comforting cocoon she could cry in.

  “I thought I’d be okay,” she repeated. “I thought if I didn’t come in here, didn’t look at this room for long enough, I’d be okay.”

  I cleared my throat. Gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Grief has its own needs. The passing of time is only
part of it.” I sounded like I knew what I was talking about.

  That’s when she tried to kiss me.

  Chapter Nine

  Warning at Yoga

  According to popular culture, private detectives are third in line for romantic entanglements. They fall behind the pizza delivery guy and the pool boy for misadventures in the company of lonely women. I hadn’t been doing this job for very long and it seemed unlikely to me that there would be anything to it in reality. However, clichés arise, I guess, based on facts and here I was, alone with a vulnerable woman who was also my client.

  She stepped in—wet eyes closed and lips at the ready—but I caught her by the shoulders. She leaned back to look up at me. Her arms stayed around my neck.

  “I haven’t been held by a man since my husband died.” She took a deep breath and sighed, the sound uneven. “Do you think six months is a long time? It feels like a long time.”

  A century passed before I was able to regain some measure of composure. And rework one of Newton’s laws: a jaw once dropped tends to remain dropped. I finally found my voice and my short-circuited brain said, “I’m sorry. I just found out that I’m married.”

  Milly tilted her head ten degrees sideways, which was also cute as a puppy. The tears on her face changed course, adjusting to the new down.

  “You say the funniest things, Mr. Luck. I can’t tell if you mean them or if you are just weird.”

  “Ah. Well, in this case, I do mean them. I was recently married. We’re completely in love and I would feel terrible if I were to betray her trust. As my wife. Whom I am in love with.”

  Milly blinked at me twice and said, “Oh.” Emotion started to swim again in her eyes. Her loneliness was palpable and I felt a pang of guilt. Still, I reached around my neck, took her wrists, and gently pulled her arms around to the front. It had to be the most awkward extrication of my person from another ever. The only thing that would make this situation more awkward would be if the door opened.

  The door opened. Amad, who evidently made a career of looking judgmental and suspicious, looked at me with judgment. And suspicion.

  I still held Milly’s wrists in my hands and they waved in the air, useless. I nodded sagely and turned back to her and said, “So, Mrs. Mallondyke, as I was saying, I don’t think those spots on your hands are at all cancerous. But if they’re bothering you, I’d suggest you contact your health care provider for a referral since I didn’t actually graduate from medical school.”

  I shouldered my way through the space between the door and the perplexed Amad.

  “Missed it by one semester,” I said.

  * * *

  Although the spouse is always the first suspect in a murder, I was pretty confident Milly Mallondyke was not involved in her husband’s death. He’d given her love and comfort and nothing to provoke her. His life was remarkable for being mostly unremarkable. His wife was young and beautiful and a little kooky, but rich guys often landed the beautiful girls on wealth. The special thing about her was that she was smart and he had earned her devotion, which said a lot for their relationship. I hoped she’d find another man to love her, and soon.

  The sigil was the key. I had to find out who would use magic on Barry and why they would need diamonds. The motive would seem to be greed, but why would someone cut Barry open after his death? What I needed was a way to determine who used magic and who did not. There had to be a spell for that.

  Overall, I felt that I was accepting the new paradigm of my life rather well. The Mama had been incredibly superstitious. My experiences in her care had always included a mix of religion and magic to explain the world around me. There was no sense arguing against the existence of magic in the world. I had seen things with my own eyes. I had experienced things that could only be explained with magic for as long as I had reckoning. I saw Stain on people and nobody else could. I’d learned to be adaptable, and my way of thinking was to accept whatever came my way. Better than sitting in a corner, gibbering.

  I drove to the Iron Foundry.

  It wasn’t lost on me that my best friend owned a club called the Iron Foundry and I had just acquired an aversion to iron. I might have to find an alternative to weight training. Any iron weights and other components of the machines could be toxic. I took some laps in the pool to loosen up, swimming half a mile. Then I toweled off and went looking for something else to do.

  I found Nat leading a yoga class and thought, “Why not?”

  There were mats rolled up on a nearby shelf so I grabbed one and set up in the back of the room. There didn’t seem to be any men besides Nat in the class. Maybe if I was quiet, nobody would notice. Twenty minutes later, doing what was called the “Child’s Pose” I decided I didn’t need to move again. For the rest of the day. Maybe the week. I was neither as flexible nor as strong as I thought.

  “Tired? Already?”

  I couldn’t see the girl’s face because her arms were stretched out above her head but she was wearing a tank top and capris with a blue tiger stripe. And a crimson Stain.

  Ho. Lee. Crap.

  Nat called for a new pose. “Bridge position.”

  I moved up until I was kneeling but the girl continued rotating backward until her feet were flat on the floor and she was facing the ceiling with her back arched and her shoulders on the mat. Some bridge.

  “Looking at you. Will take. Me out of. Alignment,” she said, turning her face towards me. “But it’s. Worth it. Call me. Evie. In this world. Or not. You choose.”

  This morning, her speech pattern had seemed sinister. Now, in this world, the staggered syntax of her speech brought my stupid compassion to the surface.

  “Hi, Evie,” I said.

  “I think. We got. Off. On the wrong. Foot. This morning,” she replied. She spoke in a hushed voice that didn’t carry past the two of us.

  I didn’t say anything. She came here to find me for a reason. She’d either tell me or she wouldn’t.

  “I Come. With a. Warning. You’re going. To need help. There are. Things about. To happen. Terror and. Destruction from. Other realms. You are. Not prepared.”

  “And you’re the person to help me?”

  “You are. A child. Lost in. The woods. And the woods are. Very large. And wild.”

  It was probably a bad idea to offend this creature—any more than I had already—since she has likely had full use of her powers for a millennium and didn’t mind using them. “I appreciate your warning, Evie. I have Erin—Fáidh—to help me,” I said.

  Evie laughed. “She will. Help you into. An early grave. She cannot. Help you. Fight what she. Doesn’t know.”

  “Why not just tell me what I need?”

  “Ah,” she smiled. “I cannot. Give it. All away. The Alder King. Has not. Had a son in. Hundreds of years.”

  I remembered Fáidh’s warning about how much these people took delight in tricking humans so I said nothing.

  “I cannot let. You. Just win. However. If I am. Seen as part. Of your victory. I will. Secure. My position. In the. Courts forever. You have no. Idea what. That means.”

  She looked up at the ceiling again before she continued, “I will. Let you. Stumble about. For now. Pray you. Find use of me. Before it is. Too late.”

  Evie stood and rolled up her mat and walked out. I noticed that her exit this time was much less frantic than the last time.

  So, things are about to happen. Worse things than what had happened already, if she was to be believed. I sat on the mat, closed my eyes, and listened to the women around me. There was a kind of steady poetry to their breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Constantly in rhythm. Inhaling oxygen to feed the muscles. Exhaling carbon dioxide to eliminate the waste. Outside the walls, the city had its own rhythm. A pulsing of cars on the road and the evening breeze shushing through the palms. Beyond the city, the Earth spun on her axis, locke
d in her dance with the sun as she swung through space in a predictable orbit. But, under the surface, in the Behindbeyond, there was something more. I could almost feel it there, pressing against our world. Probing for weaknesses.

  In stillness, I felt some peace.

  I stayed where I was and kept my eyes closed. The new power rested inside me, quiet but present, like a subterranean lake. I listened to the women applaud the end of their class, roll up their mats, and pick up their water bottles. I listened as the life in the room diminished and dwindled. Then there was just me and one other person in the room.

  “Got. What’s going on?”

  “Don’t know what you mean, Nat.” I said, opening my eyes.

  “You’re acting strange.”

  “Same as always.”

  “Not the same. You’re doing yoga.” He stared me down.

  “Trying to.”

  Nat had a light sheen of sweat from instructing and his shirt clung tightly to his muscular frame. He’d trimmed his hair since I’d seen him a few days ago. I wanted to tell him what was going on but I couldn’t.

  “I confess,” I said. “I’m dealing with a lot of stuff. I’ve been going through some changes. Could be early onset menopause.”

  Nat smacked me in the head.

  “Tell me if there’s something you need,” Nat said. It wasn’t a question.

  I gave him a shrug that he didn’t see.

  Chapter Ten

  Lunch Date with Death

  I felt terrible.

  And I’d overslept. This was after Max had prepared an especially fine Orange Chicken last night, using our own garden oranges, which I’d washed down with some wine. Then I’d washed the wine down with some wine. Somehow my goblet was magic because I only had the one glass to drink but the whole bottle had been inside it. It was almost enough drink that I didn’t think about Erin. Almost. Additionally, the events of the day had worn me out. Probably more than anything was the trip to the Fae realm. But the workout last night and the drink had taken their toll as well. And by my body’s reckoning, I’d lived through a 32-hour day. Thanks, Faerieland. Let’s do the time warp again.