Hell's Detective

by Michael Logan

She seemed legit. She’d displayed none of the liar’s body language: she didn’t cover her mouth as she spoke, turn her body away from mine, fidget, or sit on her hands to stop them from betraying her. Every instinct told me she was being straight, but that didn’t mean much. I’d been on jury duty and witnessed the advantage the lawyer who spoke second gained. Good liars could make anything seem plausible, and the last one to speak always seemed the most convincing. And I was all too aware that I wanted to believe Laureen over Franklin for my own selfish reasons. Finally, my ever-growing list of misjudgments meant I no longer trusted my instincts. I had two opposing stories and a choice to make—one that if I got wrong would end the world. I needed to know for sure who was telling the truth.

  “I’ve told you everything you wanted to know,” Laureen said when it became apparent I had exhausted my list of questions. “Now do what I’m paying you to do and go get me my blooming box. That replica isn’t going to fool anybody.”

  I started, splashing some of my brandy on the sofa, as Laureen’s words sparked an idea so obvious that I cursed myself for not coming up with it sooner. I’d been an idiot, running around in circles, listening to lots of blab, and trying to guess people’s intentions. But there was a simple way to cut to the heart of the matter.

  “Brilliant,” Laureen said as I shook my head in disgust at myself. “First cigarette ash on the floor, now booze on the upholstery. Want to pee in the plant pot? Take a dump on my bed?”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass. Listen, I know how to sort this out once and for all. But I’m going to need you to give me something first. Agree and, if you’re telling the truth, you’ll get your box tomorrow. Guaranteed.”

  I’d put her on the spot, and she knew it. I was the one person who could give her what she needed. If she refused to help me, it would seem like she was afraid of being caught out in a lie. Then she would get nothing and be forced to admit her mistake to Satan. She had to play ball.

  “You’ll give up the dodgy Administrator too?” she said, rubbing her eyes wearily.

  “Of course.”

  “And you’ll stop asking me so many bloody questions?”

  “That I can’t guarantee.”

  “Well, it’s not like I have any other options. I’ll give you whatever you want, within reason.” She pointed her index finger at me. The curved, manicured nail looked worryingly like a talon. “Be warned, though: if you’re trying to pull a fast one and I don’t get the box back, I’ll find you. Then you’ll be Ammit shit before you know it.”

  27

  All the way down from Avici Rise, I kept glancing in the rearview mirror to see if Laureen, or one of her proxies, was following. She’d given me what I’d requested, not even asking what I intended to do with it. That made me wonder if she might be harboring intentions of having me followed as I prepared to carry out the freshly concocted final phase of my plan. Then again, she might just have been sick of the sorry saga. If so, I knew how she felt.

  I normally loved this point of a case, when I only had a few threads left to twitch to bring the spider at the center of the web gamboling out for me to squish. This time, I wasn’t feeling so energized. The threads I was twanging led to an ugly and poisonous tarantula, which would sink its dripping fangs into my ankle at the slightest wrong move. In fact, the threads led to too many potentially deadly spiders—including Yama, who would be lurking in the wings to gobble up whatever scraps Franklin or Laureen left behind. Having such an array of individuals possibly out for my blood made me as jumpy as a frog on a trampoline, but I saw nothing to suggest anybody was shadowing me. Paranoid as I was, though, I took a circuitous route back to the Lucky Deal, shimmying down every side road that presented itself. I arrived back at the casino five minutes before I was due to check in with Danny.

  A small crowd was standing outside the closed doors, mentally scratching their heads as they stared at a sign proclaiming the casino closed for repairs. In all my time in Lost Angeles, the Lucky Deal had never shut up shop save for the hours of torment. Such an unprecedented move would bring unwelcome attention.

  I hammered on the door and was rewarded with Sid’s muffled voice. “Can’t any of you clowns read? The sign says you should fuck off. So fuck off already.”

  “Where’d you learn your customer relations, Alcatraz?” I shouted. “It’s Kat. Flo is expecting me.”

  Sid hauled one of the doors open and let me in, slamming it shut in the faces of the itchy-fingered gamblers who surged in pursuit. Danny had obviously told his crew that I held the keys to his slice of the city. Now I saw why the casino was out of action. Brown suits packed the gambling floor—sliding rounds into the chambers of their stubby submachine guns, checking their sights, strapping on knuckle-dusters, and practicing their battle faces. The room buzzed with excited chatter. It had been a while since they’d seen action on this scale.

  “Getting ready to go to war?” I asked Sid.

  “Yup,” he said. “Gonna kick some ass.”

  From the look of enthusiasm on his face, Danny hadn’t informed them of the nature of the lumpy hippo ass he wanted them to kick. Lucky for them I’d turned up. “Where’s Flo?”

  He pointed over my shoulder. Danny strode toward me from the side of the room, cradling a stubby shotgun like a baby. He dropped the gun, threw his arms around me, and pulled me into a fierce embrace. Over his shoulder, I saw every face turn toward us in slack-jawed astonishment.

  “Sorry, folks. The war’s canceled,” Danny shouted. “Everybody back to their posts and open up.”

  A groan rippled through the casino as if he’d told a bunch of kids that the trip to the zoo they’d been promised as a treat for being good had been called off.

  “I told you not to come after me,” I said as his private army shuffled off in dejection.

  “And I put my fingers in my ears and said, ‘La-la-la.’ As you would have done. How’d it go?”

  “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll tell you.”

  As we trooped up to the apartment, I drew filthy looks from the would-be warriors who’d put two and two together and realized I was the reason for the cancellation of the night’s merriment. Once we were installed in his apartment, I laid out the events of the evening and Laureen’s side of the story, playing down my head-to-mouth with the Ammit. I didn’t want Danny to get freaked out at how close I’d come to spending the rest of eternity lodging in people’s underwear and gritting up their sandwiches.

  “A tall tale,” he said.

  “Maybe. But if anybody had told us about this place while we were still alive, we’d have called the cops and had them whisked into a straitjacket. If I’ve learned one thing from Lost Angeles, it’s that anything’s possible—even Franklin’s undercover angel schtick.”

  “I suppose her version does explain a lot.”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t get us any closer to knowing who to trust.”

  “So what’s next?”

  I’d stopped short of revealing the new plan. It had been far too long since I’d had the chance to show off to Danny, and I wanted to milk the moment. “What’s the best way of knowing if somebody means to kill you?”

  He groaned. “Here we go. The great Kat Murphy gets all cryptic. Save it for somebody who doesn’t already know what a brainbox you are.”

  I put my hands behind my head and pouted. “Can’t you allow a girl a bit of drama as she reveals her masterful plan?”

  “Fine, I’ll play. Seduce their lover and find out through pillow talk?”

  “That’s how you get them to want to kill you in the first place. Try again.”

  “Bribe their barman. Give them a picture of your face and see if they throw knives at it. Actually, scratch that one. Everybody would do that with you. Honestly, I’m too frazzled for this bullshit. I was starting to think you might be a goner. Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “You put a gun in their hand and stand out in the open, waving your hands and shouting, ‘Shoot me!’ I’m
going to give Franklin what he wants.”

  He crinkled his eyes. “That’s your big plan? Give him the box? You’ve had some bad ideas in your time, but this one blows whale dick. If he isn’t on the level, it’s curtains for the world.”

  “Give me some credit. I didn’t say the gun had to be loaded.”

  I waved a hand at my backpack, which I’d dumped on the bedroom floor. It was bulkier than it had been when I’d climbed up into Avici Rise. Danny unzipped it and frowned when he saw what was inside.

  “There’s another one?”

  “It’s a replica,” I said. “After the real one went AWOL, Laureen had it made in the hope she could fool her boss.”

  Danny pulled out the fake, turning it over without any ill effects. “It’ll never work,” he said. “But for the sake of argument, say Franklin buys it. What do you expect him to do?”

  “I expect him to give something away about his true intentions.”

  “I’m not convinced. The moment he touches it, he’ll know you’re diddling him.”

  “I need to make sure he doesn’t touch it then, don’t I?” I said, trying not to sound as sulky as I felt. Danny wasn’t anywhere near as impressed as I’d hoped he would be. “Give me the bag you keep the real one in. That should make it more convincing. He gave the bag to Sebastian himself, so when he lays his peepers on it, he’ll know I have access to the real box. He’ll have no reason to suspect I’ve pulled a switcheroo. I’ll show the box to him and see if it pushes any buttons.”

  “If he isn’t legit, he’s going to be pissed you’ve slipped him a cheap knock-off. In fact, he’ll be pissed even if he is what he says he is.”

  “If he’s legit, I’ll tell him I was testing him and bring him here.”

  “And if he isn’t?”

  “I’ll deliver the box to Laureen.”

  “Either way, you’ll need some backup. I’ll tag along.”

  “No. If we’re both there and it goes south, who’s going to do the needful with the box? I have to go. That leaves you holding the baby. If it’ll make you feel better, give me a handful of your best homicidal maniacs.” He frowned but said nothing. It made sense for him to stay in custody of the real deal, and he knew it. “If I don’t come back with Franklin, get the box to Laureen. See if you can get my payment for yourself and get on with your life.”

  “You’ll come back,” he said, his eyes looking watery. “If you don’t, I’ll raze this city to the ground to find you.”

  “Then at least your little helpers will have their fun. Well, there’s no point in hanging around. Let’s roll the dice and hope we come up sixes.”

  I rang Franklin, who answered so quickly that I suspected he’d been hovering by the phone waiting for my call.

  “I’ve got the box,” I said.

  “I never doubted you would. What do you intend to do?”

  “Make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. Meet me tonight, at four AM, at Enitan’s. I’ll have it with me.”

  He fell silent for a while, but his breathing changed—coming faster and shallower. “You’ve made the right decision,” he said finally.

  “Why Enitan’s?” Danny asked when I hung up.

  “We can’t do it here. That would be a giveaway. We can’t do my apartment, thanks to all the watchers outside. Plus Enitan’s is familiar territory. Franklin spent a lot of time there the last few days. He’ll feel comfortable.”

  I could have met him at Benny’s, but the bar was too close to the casino. If things went wrong, I didn’t want Danny within earshot. He would come barging in to save me and screw what happened to the box. I made two more phone calls—a retroactive check that Enitan was fine with me using his shop for the meet and a request for a favor from Benny—then flopped onto the bed. Danny snuggled up beside me, his hand resting lightly on my chest.

  A silence fell: one of those moments creaking with the weight of words unsaid and about to be said. I didn’t want to go there. If we got all heavy and started professing undying love for each other, we’d be saying our good-byes and acknowledging that the plan could misfire. I wanted to go in with the confidence—no matter how faked—that everything would work out fine. Anyway, that wasn’t who we’d been, who we still could be despite Bruno and Lost Angeles doing their worst to us. I’d moped around long enough. Our relationship had been about laughter and competition, about who could get in the last barb. Life—and death—was serious enough without giving it any more encouragement. If I was going to end up a dust devil, I wanted the memory of the crackle and spark of our interplay to try to cling to—along with the added bonus of a recent memory of how it felt to be a hot-blooded human.

  “How long does a girl need to lie here looking all rumpled and sexy before she gets some action?” I said.

  “When somebody rumpled and sexy comes in, I’ll let you know. Until that happy day, I guess you’re going to have to do,” Danny said.

  28

  Enitan and I sat side by side, sipping on coffees so thick, you could slice them with a knife, as we waited for Franklin. I didn’t want Enitan there, but he’d refused to make himself scarce. He said he wouldn’t miss the reveal for the world; I suspected he really wanted to help if the play went sour. I’d never seen anything to suggest he could be useful in times of trouble, but I supposed I could hide under his robe if push came to shove. Anyway, Danny’s hard nuts were around the corner, ready to burst in blasting if they heard any commotion. I also had insurance tucked away in Enitan’s reading room: Benny, armed with his shotgun. He had so few customers, he wouldn’t miss a few hours behind the bar and had been happy to come along in exchange for a hundred bucks. The lead-lined bag sat on the countertop behind us, undone so the top of the globe stuck out. I wanted Franklin to get a good look at it as he came in, when he was too far away to touch it and realize I was stiffing him.

  “Do you really believe this is going to work?” Enitan asked. “Even if he has dark motives, he may be too smart to reveal them.”

  “Why does everybody want to pick holes in my plan? I never know if anything’s going to work, but that’s no reason not to try. If I don’t get any signals, I’ll toss a coin and hope God’s guiding my hand.”

  “If God was so worried about this contraption, I do not believe he would leave its retrieval to the likes of Franklin or us. He would come down here himself.”

  “And get all Old Testament on their asses?”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t think that’s his style. If the Bible’s anything to go by, he’s like a don: never do the dirty work yourself when you have minions to do it for you.”

  “I still believe Franklin is lying.”

  We turned our heads to the window in concert as a car pulled up outside and a door slammed. “Looks like we’re about to find out if you’re right.”

  The bell tinkled, and Franklin entered, wearing the same plaid shirt as the first day I met him. He looked as dangerous as a stuffed panda and just as likely to be planning to end the world. He raised his hand in greeting. It stayed up, frozen in place, when his gaze fell on the box.

  “You do have it,” he said. “I knew I was right to trust you.”

  He walked toward us but stopped when I held up my hand. I couldn’t let him get within touching distance yet. “That’s far enough. To tell you the truth, I still don’t know if I can trust you. I’m going to destroy it myself. You’re going to tell me how.”

  Franklin licked his lips, his gaze flitting to the box again. “We can’t take the risk. Trying to destroy it might set whatever’s inside loose. Give it to me, and I promise they’ll never find it. You’ve done enough already. You’ve saved the world.”

  “Hurrah for me,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll build a statue of me in Heaven for the doves to crap on. That’ll be a real comfort while I’m rotting down here.”

  “I’ll put in a good word for you with God,” he said. “Maybe he’ll get you out.”

  Enitan shot me a glance and s
hook his head almost imperceptibly. He was getting the same vibe as me. Franklin was shaking, naked longing painted on his face as he stared at the box. He looked like a nymphomaniac who’d spotted a sign for an all-you-can-fuck deal at a brothel. His wasn’t the face of a man confronted by something he feared, something he wanted to put out of commission. He didn’t want the box. He craved it. Now, in such close proximity to his object of his lust, he could barely contain himself.

  I patted Enitan’s knee, signaling him to rise. We got up, moving to the side of the aisle to clear a path for Franklin. “You’re right, we’ve done enough. I just want to get this out of my hair. It’s all yours.”

  Franklin strode past us, his hands reaching for the box as if it were a long-lost lover. I pulled out my gun and backed toward the door. He paused at the counter, running his hands through his hair to compose himself, and grasped the box. He stood there for a few moments, shoulders hunched and head bowed. Enitan and I were at the door now. I fumbled for the handle behind my back, keeping the gun aimed squarely between Franklin’s shoulder blades. If he came at us, I’d empty the chamber into him.

  Franklin made a low keening noise, which grew in volume. His shoulders shook, and the muscles in his neck tensed. The keen turned into a roar, and he hurled the box across the room. It bounced off an old grandfather clock, sending springs pinging through the air. Both box and shattered clock clattered to the floor. When he turned around, his eyes were bugging out of his head, and his cheeks were rippling. It looked like his face was trying to change, as if whatever raging beast lurked within him was about to burst out. Suddenly he didn’t look so harmless.

  “You lied,” he said.

  Finally, I had my answer. Franklin was a psycho. All I needed to do now was fetch the real box and hand it over to Laureen—negotiating Danny’s release from the Torments before giving it up, of course. But now wasn’t the time for triumph. I’d celebrate once it was all over.

  “It’s like I told you: the first rule is to assume everybody’s lying. Anyway, you can talk. You were full of shit when you told me you were an angel. Did you prepare your cover story in advance or make it up on the spot? I have to give it to you, it was damn convincing.”