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Night hung heavy over Legionopolis, like an old blanket doing its best to the keep the city covered against the bitter cold December wind cutting through the streets.
Through that unforgiving night, a solitary figure walked, holding close to whatever errant shadows offered themselves, making his way down the boulevard toward the towering building before him. A step at a time, he lurched forward with an odd gait, one shoulder hunched and his arm held tightly to his body.
Crossing the street toward the front doors of the building, suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a transport vehicle barreled around the corner. A horrible grinding echoed down the empty street as the driver quickly fired the reverse thrusters, stopping just inches from the man.
"Hey!" the driver shouted out, "Watch where you're walking! You trying to get yourself killed?"
As through he was only now noticing him, the man raised his bleary eyes toward the driver and - without saying a word - just continued walking.
"Moron!' the driver shouted, as he drove off in a rage.
Reaching the front door of the building, the man took a deep breath to gather his strength, then rapped on the polymer window.
"Sorry... " the elderly watchman shouted out, walking toward the door, annoyed that he had to interrupt the holo-news program he was watching, "...we're closed. You'll have to come back in the morni... oh!"
Suddenly recognizing the man, the watchman typed in the internal security code as the air-locked doors shushed open. "Heh. Didn't recognize you for a second there, Mr. Nihil. Did you forget your security code?"
"Something like that," Ex all but grunted.
"You working late tonight?"
"Late enough," Ex nodded toward the lift, "Come on... let's ride."
The two made their way inside of the airlift as the watchman said, "Level 22." He took in Ex's appearance. "Say... you don't look so hot, Mr. Nihil... sort of all in."
"I'm fine."
"The holo business keeping you pretty busy, eh?" Getting no response, he continued on, "I used to be in the holos myself... long time ago, though. More your dad's era, I'd think. I had to give it all up, though, on account of my rheumatism."
"Is that right?" Ex said, not really listening.
The lift came to a rest, as the watchman took the hint. "Here you are, sir... Level 22.'
Exnihil exited the lift and stumbled toward his office, breathing a sigh of relief that he was finally alone. Loosening his coat, he all but collapsed into his office chair.
Pausing for a moment to catch his breath, he reached inside of his coat for a package of Cargitte trigarettes. He winced, as the movement caused his shirt to peel away from his skin, the semi-congealed blood of his wound opening up again and starting to bleed anew.
Tossing the packet on the desk, with his one good arm he shook a trigarette free and brought it to his lips. With a laborious effort, he lit it and breathed in deeply. He thought for a moment and then, with sudden determination, he reached across and flipped on his Omnicon. It came to life with a broadcasted voice.
"... all enjoying this holiday season, and keep it tuned right here. Up next: Kent Shakespeare's annual holiday toas..."
Ex hit the screen to shut off the broadcast and switch to record mode. He took another drag from his trigarette and, with a deep sigh, began speaking.
"Communique.
"December 25th, 3011.
"Exnihil to Legion World Security Office, Matlock.
"Dear Matt,
"I suppose you'll be wondering why I'm bothering to record this at all. Least of all to you. By the time you get this message I'll be long gone, anyway. Oh... not in the way your suspects usually try to go... taking it on the lam... I'm talking about a much longer trip... the kind where you don't need any ticket, and you definitely don't carry any baggage.
"I guess in some ways that will make your job easier. If you wanted, you could delete this message altogether. Pretend it never existed and tie up your case in a neat little bow... special delivery, R.I.P.
"But you wouldn't play it that way... of anybody here, I know you wouldn't... and that's why I I felt I owed you this much. Owed you the truth.
"You think you're a pretty hotshot detective... and maybe you are. You called it from the beginning. You said it was a conspiracy: check. You said it went deeper than anybody could see: check. You said it was murder... check."
Ex went to take a drag from his trigarette and suddenly realized it had gone out. He tossed it to the side and resumed.
"But you made a mistake, Matt. When it came to picking the killer, you picked the wrong guy. Oh, I know what you're going to say... that it's the same song I've been singing since Day One, and you're right. But sometimes... sometimes the truth can be the saddest song you'll ever play.
"I'm not going to sit here and try to convince you that my hands are totally clean... far from it. Sure... I wanted something, the same as anyone else. I was in it for two of the oldest reasons there are. I was in it for the money... and I was in it for a girl.
"Well... I didn't get the money. And... as you probably know better than anyone else... I didn't get the girl.
"It all started this past August..."
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That night when everybody and their brother takes to the streets, throwing back a few - and throwing out their inhibitions - supposedly in the name of "Freedom, Friendship and Frunt".
Well... I've learned a few things over the years: Nothing comes for free; a friend is just a word for somebody who wants something from you; and frunt? Well... the less said about that piece of nonsense, the better.
No - for me - Klordny has always been about one thing, and one thing only: closing the deal.
It's a night to see and be seen. A time to rub elbows with those people who have more money then sense, and try to get them to open up those purse strings just long enough to keep Exnihil Productions running for another year.
Sometimes, it's an easy job. Sometimes, you meet the ones going on about the "art" of it all. Saps, we call 'em. All that type really wants is to impress the other saps when their name shows up in the credits of some documentary about saving the Arcturian Octopods. Those are the easy ones, but they're few and far in between.
Most times, it's hell. Swallowing your pride, and doing things you never imagined yourself doing as you grub around for every last dime. The entertainment world is a seedy, backhanded affair where words like "pride" and "integrity" don't just have to take a back seat - they have to get tied up and gagged, locked in the trunk of a vehicle that's sinking to the bottom of a lake.
I'll let you take one guess which one this past Klordny was.
I sat at my usual table in the Overlook Room of Danny Blaine's Beacon Restaurant, deep into the bottom of my third martini, trying to sweet talk Director Lad into not flying the coop.
"Ex, I don't know, " he was saying, "I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I just don't think I'm right for this project. I mean, come on... the Handsome Cartel?"
"The Handsome family, Sudro" I corrected him, still half-trying to convince myself. "The whole 'cartel' business is ancient history - put to bed when Molock Handsome died. The family has gone completely legit."
"That might be... but the public hears the name, 'Handsome,' and all they can think of is that Large Handsome and his brother Molock each basically terrorized the galaxy as the super-villain, Middlefinger."
"Yeah... but that's the hook! For years, the Handsome name has been synonymous with crime, right? Now... what happens with the younger generation? How do they overcome that? Here they are... with more money than they know what to do with, trying to make a name for themselves that doesn't immediately make the world think of their parents. We call it, 'Growing Up Handsome.' The public would eat up a show like that."
"And that's the other thing, Ex," Director Lad said, "Another Reality Holo? That's a little passé, don't you think?"
I saw that I'd have to bait the hook with something a little more to Sudro's tastes. "Well, here's the thing... I didn't want to say anything until the deal was finalized... but, if this does get made, I'm pretty deep into talks with Junior Handsome about fully funding that other project you've been trying to get made for years now."
"The Engine Joe Story?" Director Lad's eyes all but lit up in dollar signs.
It's my experience that everyone has a price... sometimes it's just in foreign currency.
"That's right... you sign on to direct 'Growing Up Handsome,' and I can almost guarantee that 'Engine Joe' is as good as in the theaters."
Director Lad started talking faster than a Mark-10 cruiser. "I... well... I'd have to think about it, of course, but... seriously though, Junior Handsome is really interested in 'Engine Joe'? I wouldn't have thought that a guy like that... I'd want to talk to the rights holders, of course... and I'd have to have final say on the script approval... I don't know... I'd really have to think about..."
"Well... you better think fast, buddy. Here's our guest, now."
Junior Handsome strode into the Overlook Room like he owned the place and - honestly - even if he said he did, there wasn't a man there who'd try to correct him. For twenty years, his father Molock and his uncle Large had ruled the underworld with their iron fists, racking up more bodies than a whole asteroid field worth of Shaghallas could hold. Though he was trying hard to legitimize the family name, it was only human nature to let that reputation precede him, to open whatever doors might stand in his way.
Following right behind Junior, though, was someone else... a dame I had never seen before and who - before the night was through - I'd wind up wishing I'd never seen at all.
Watching her walk into the room, though, I had to swallow hard to keep my heart from rising right out of my throat. This gal had more curves than the Kessel Run, and legs that seemed to go on a lot longer than twelve parsecs. For half a second, the entire room seemed to swirl around her like an event horizon drawing me in closer and faster. I would have been lost right then and there, if Junior hadn't suddenly grabbed my hand into his meat hook like paws and shook it nearly clean off.
"Ex! How you doing, compadre!"
"Junior... baby!" I said, rising to my feet and playing my part. The super-rich always loved when you laid industry cliché on them. "It's been too long. And who is your lovely..."
"Oh... I'm sorry... this is my sister, Lotta." He leaned in closer to whisper to me, "I'm sorry, Ex... she insisted on coming along. Don't worry... she won't interfere with business."
Lotta Handsome - all but ignoring her boorish brother's presence - locked onto to my eyes like a missile guidance system and extended her hand. In a throaty voice that told me this girl had seen more parties than a Venturan DJ, she leaned in and all but whispered directly into my soul, "Charmed... I'm sure."
I took her extended hand and brought it to my lips, little realizing that the next twenty-four hours would cause me to seriously rethink everything I ever believed about the phrase, "sealed with a kiss".
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The night wore on... our table filling up with empty glasses just as fast as Junior filled up Director Lad with false promises.
The Engine Joe Story?
Sure... Junior Handsome had about as much interest in financing "Engine Joe" as he did in building a planet-sized incinerator to shovel his money into directly. But he knew - as much as I did - just the right sized carrot to feed Director Lad to get him on board. It's not the type of thing I'm ever proud of doing but, like I said before, it's all part of the game you've got to play.
While Junior and Sudro were sinking each other's battleships, Lotta Handsome was busy with a game of her own. From the way she had been looking at me for the last half hour, I wouldn't have been surprised at all if it was "twister" this girl had in mind.
She let out a long sigh, interrupting her brother's rant about the future of holo-vision. "Junior, I'm bored!"
Junior shot his sister a glare that was cold as a cup of Tharrian coffee and started cracking his too-large knuckles. "I told you that you were going to be, but you had to come, didn't you?" He looked around the Beacon and noticed the dance floor. "Why don't you just go dance for a while?"
"What... alone?" She shot me a quick glance that contained more words than a Bierbaum text piece.
"Oh, that's all right, " I said, coming in right on my cue, "I've been known to trip the light fantastic a bit in my day."
"Aw, Ex," Junior said, "That's nice of you and all, but you don't have to do that. My sister is just being difficult" He hit the last word with a bite that told his sister exactly what might be in store if she didn't knock it off, but it was too late - I was already standing up and buttoning my jacket.
"No, not at all, Junior, it would be my pleasure." I extended my arm to Lotta and started to lead her to the floor, giving a glance back just to make sure that Junior wasn't shooting any daggers in my direction. I didn't have to worry, though - he was already back into his conversation with Director Lad, laying out plans for a project that had as much chance for success as a Daxamite lead-worker who forgot to take his morning pills.
"Finally... Mr. Nihil. I thought you'd never ask," Lotta purred like a kitten as I slipped my hand into hers and the band slipped into some early Naltorian dream-waltz.
"Yeah, well... it's a dangerous game you're playing with your brother right over there."
"Why, I wonder if I know what you're talking about."
"I wonder if you wonder."
Lotta smiled. "Well, don't you worry about Junior. He's really a doll once you get to know him... and has about as much sense as one, as well."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, his little fantasy... about 'restoring' the family name or something. Ridiculous, if you ask me. The public doesn't want some squeaky clean Handsome story... they want the dirt. You know that as much as I do."
"And I suppose you've just got tons of dirty stories, don't you?"
"Mister, I got plenty."
"Too bad that he's the one footing the bill, then, huh?"
"Is that what he's told you?" She laughed lightly. "I guess I sized you up wrong... I thought you'd have better sense than that."
I didn't say a word. I've been around these types long enough to know that the only thing they like better than talking about their money is talking about someone else's money. If she was going to be giving me the inside skinny on the real state of Junior's finances, there was no way I was going to stop her. I just raised my eyebrow and let her go on.
She laughed. "Oh... you didn't know. Daddy didn't leave Junior a dime. Sure, he's the 'head' of the Handsome family, but did you really think that the great Molock Handsome would trust that lunkhead with our family's fortune? Please. He left it to the only one of his children with enough brains not squander it on a bunch of half-cocked pet projects."
"You?"
"Me."
"Well, fine then... if you were going tell the Handsome story, how would you suggest going about it?"
"Hmm..." I felt her hand begin to lightly graze my back, "You are persistent when there's something you want, aren't you?"
Was this gal bluffing? I figured I'd just lay my cards on the table and see how the hand played out. I pulled her closer. "Sure I am... when it's something worth getting."
She smiled a wicked smile as the song ended, as if she were mulling something over. "All right... all right, Mr., Nihil. They say that business makes for strange bedfellows. What say we put that little adage to the test. There's not enough time to talk now... but... later."
As we walked back to the table, she took my hand again and I felt her slipping a small card into it. She whispered, "Zaryan's Palace... the Grand Hotel... Room 247. We'll talk."
We got back to the table and, as Junior gave her a slight grimace, she poured back into her chair. Her every move glided like quicksilver and already I knew this girl was twice as dangerous. They say that sometimes a little danger is the only thing that lets you know that you're alive and kicking.
By the time the morning rolled around... Lotta Handsome would be neither.
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Lotta Handsome rolled out of the Beacon a little after midnight, coming up with some half-baked line about a headache. I can't say her brother put up too much of a fight.
I stayed on another couple of hours, listening round after round as Junior piled it on to me and Director Lad higher than a plate of Smallville pancakes. After the bomb Lotta just placed in my lap, I didn't know how this guy thought he was gonna be pulling off any of the plans he'd been gabbing about. I guess sometimes a guy just tells the same story for so long that even he starts believing it.
I figured I'd better split the joint before he started plying me with a scheme to do a remake of "The Great Darkness Saga" starring Darkseid himself. I grabbed the tab - neither one of them tried too hard to stop me - and told Junior I'd give him a call in the morning. I said good night to Director Lad, and headed out to my date with destiny.
The streets were still jammed with half-drunk Klordny-festers, so there was no making it to Zaryan's through the city. I figured I'd head down to the boardwalk to let the sea air clear my head out, then cut a path to the Grand Hotel through Zaryan's Casino.
I needed some time alone and, lucky for me, the boardwalk was as deserted as a Trommite shopping mall. That part of town always drew in more of the family crowd and those folks weren't the types to hang around downtown once the Legion World night started showing its true colors.
Walking down toward the Casino, I heard some far off music and saw a light coming in from a bonfire outside of the Vudoo Lounge about a mile down. I think I had heard from one of my guys that there was supposed to be some big Klordny bash going on there for the staff of Quislet Esq's Super Law Firm. Good for them. Those legal eagle types could be a stiff crowd sometimes but, when push came to shove, they were good guys who had pulled my fat out of the fire more than a few times.
I hit the Casino about three AM but, from the scene inside, you'd have never guessed it. Zaryan's always keeps their Casino lit with fusion-lights that make it seem like broad daylight. It's supposed to make the hard-core gamblers lose any track of time, but I don't know if I buy that. For the type of guys I've seen that get hooked on the Planetary Chance Machines, there's really ever only one time of day: that magic hour right before dawn when they still think they're gonna hit the big score.
I took a look around the Casino floor, just to see if there was anybody I needed to watch out for. The last thing I needed was word getting back to Junior that my ugly mug showed up at three in the morning in his sister's hotel. He might not have been the brightest bulb on the planet, but I'm guessing he had enough brains to add up two and two.
I spied Tamper Lad dressed to the nines in a tux over at the baccarat table but, considering he was laying down ten thousand credit bets - and I'm pretty sure that slinky piece of eye candy hanging off his arm was the Venusian heiress, Angora Swetters - unless I started ordering my martinis shaken and not stirred, there was next to no chance he'd even be giving me a second glance.
Another guy I thought I recognized was pumping credit after credit of Venturan walking money into the slots. From the looks of his eyes - which looked like somebody had spent the better part of the night trying to tattoo a red spider web on them - he'd been at it a while. I knew this guy's face from somewhere, but it wasn't ringing a bell at the time. I guessed that unless I started doing my impression of a Kono fruit from Carrgg, though, this guy wasn't getting pulled away any time soon.
Feeling like I had this thing in the bag, I made my way across the Casino and into the Grand Hotel lobby. I popped in a stick of gum, hopped into the airlift, and started thinking about the hand that I was about to play. Lotta had dealt me some pretty good cards so far - Queen of Hearts... pocket Diamonds... and the best pair I had ever seen.
I was just one turn away from finding out that - this whole time - the dealer had been bluffing, holding her aces and eights close to her chest.
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You'd think, after so many years, I'd learn to trust my gut. Even before the airlift hit her floor, I started to get that cold feeling in the pit of my stomach - the same one I'd get every time a deal started to go bad, the one that said, "You baited this hook the best you could, Ex, but this fish just ain't biting."
I marked it down to nerves - Lotta was a tough read. Could be that her "talk" meant "talk," or it could be that this gal had other ideas about how we'd be using our mouths tonight. Either way, I got to admit that I was feeling on edge - and that ice ball forming in my breadbasket was the best sign I had that things might not go down the way I'd been imagining when we'd been dancing at the Beacon.
The lift set me down on her floor and I strolled over to the door of room 247, giving it a few raps like a Tulvanian Witch Wolf that needed a shave and a haircut... but just needed to know the price. Before I even got to the "cut" part of my knock, though, the door cracked open a bit on the hinge.
Just like a dizzy dame - give me the key, then leave the door unlocked.
"Candy-gram for Ms. Handsome," I called into the suite.
I poked my head around the corner of the door, but Lotta was nowhere in sight. I heard the faint noise of the sonic shower running from the bathroom. I was just about to backtrack down to the lobby to give her another twenty minutes or so, when I saw the holo-note projected up from the lounge table: "Two shakes of a Tork's tail, darling... fix yourself a drink."
Fair enough. I'm never one to walk away from free hooch, especially when it's being offered by a gal with nothing but a door separating me from her altogethers.
"Heya... Lotta," I called back to the bathroom, "It's Ex... didn't want you jumping out of your skin if you heard somebody strolling around out here."
Nothing.
I shrugged and strolled over to the bar. I did my best... worst that would happen, I figured, is she'd pop out unawares and slug me in a panic if she didn't hear. Wouldn't be the first time it happened to me with a gal, and I was pretty sure it wouldn't be the last. She did leave the door unlocked and set me up with a note, though, so I figured I was all right. I shook my head. Rich dames.
I took a gander at the bar. Top shelf all the way. I grabbed a bottle of Orandan Rye and poured myself two fingers. There was already a glass sitting on the bar with a few half-melted cubes in it. All Lotta had been drinking at the Beacon was Kono spritzers, so I thought she didn't go in for the hard stuff. Maybe that was just a show on Junior's account.
I settled down on the lounge and took a sip of my drink. Smooth. I sat there for a minute or two just relaxing... listening to the steady stream of the sonic shower echoing off the tiles like some sort Tartarusian second-stringer. Lady sure likes getting clean, I thought.
After a while, I started getting bored, so I wandered around, giving the suite a quick once over. I had put a few clients up at Zaryan's before, mostly out of town talent I was courting, but I had never stayed here myself. Nice digs if you can afford them.
I wandered over into the kitchen area and saw Lotta's Omnicom sitting on the counter. It was the newest model, the Omni3012 - these babies weren't even on the market yet. I was still making do with my refurbed 3008. Didn't have all the bells and whistles, but it got the job done. I picked up Lotta's piece, admiring how light it was.
"Say, Lotta..." I called back, "Nice pod. Guess membership has its privileges, eh?"
Nothing.
What was with this dame? She had to be deafer than a tourist in downtown Gryxor.
"Lotta! You hear me in there?"
Nothing.
Right then, that old snowball in my gut started dropping down into Kelvin. I walked over to the bathroom door and saw that it was slightly ajar. I edged up on it... feeling like time itself had just taken a big swig of Professor Potter's elastic serum.
Looking down through the crack at the bathroom floor I saw Lotta's hand - that same one that a little over three hours ago I had felt brushing my back - lying flat down on it.
I didn't think twice. I slammed into the door, forcing it open, as the weight holding it closed nudged across the floor. I gave the door another push and barged in. If I said before that cold feeling in my stomach was worrying me... it wouldn't be for long. In the next three seconds that cold feeling - along with everything else in there - was pouring out with a vengeance as I started retching into the can.
Lotta's body might have been blocking the door, but her head - still as pretty as the first moment I saw her strolling into the Beacon - was sitting all by its lonesome in the sink.
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They say it takes a crisis for a man to find out what he's really made of. Well... I got to tell you, I'm ashamed to admit it now but, after seeing Lotta Handsome looking anything but, I found out exactly what I was made of:
One hundred percent, grade-A Elvabird liver.
Maybe somebody else would have done the right thing - picked up the Omnicom and dialed the Security Office right then and there. Called in the crime, maybe, and tried to help out, before whoever did this got the chance to do it again.
I said, "maybe".
Truth is, until you've been there - staring into the cold glassy eyes of a dame's face while the rest of her is underfoot - there's no telling what you'd do.
This guy? I panicked.
I flushed the can, and bolted out of the bathroom faster than you could say, "X2(9YZ)4A". I didn't know what had gone down in this room tonight and, frankly, I didn't care. All I knew was that there was a dead girl on the other side of that door and if I didn't make myself scarce - and pronto - there was a good chance that, when the music stopped, I was going be the only sap scrambling to find a chair. I also knew that the Security Office would be only too happy to help me out in that regard.
I looked around the suite to see if I had left any signs that I was here tonight. Lotta's holo-note was still projected up from the table, but it only said "darling," - not my name. Good... let them try to track down one of Lotta's other "darlings". I'm sure that would be a long list.
I wiped down the bottle of Rye - and the glass I had used - in case they started scrubbing the joint for pore-patterns. Then, using the same cloth, I gave the internal door scanner a once over. I pushed the still-unlocked door open with my foot, then quick hit the autolock, jumping out before it closed behind me. I didn't want some cleaning lady to get the scare of her life. Let Zaryan's have to pry it open to find that mess.
One of the things that makes Zaryan's the place to go for the rich and famous, is their promise of discretion. There's not a single holo-camera in the whole joint. A lot of what I knew went down in the Grand Hotel - senators playing around on their wives with their by-the-hour Durlans, holo actors taking a few Lotus Fruit lost weekends - would make the front page of LMB Enquirer if not for the fact that Zaryan's likes to keep the place a closed shop. What goes on at the Grand Hotel stays at the Grand Hotel.
Even the Casino floor, the place where you'd think they'd want to watch a guy from every angle, is completely camera free. Instead, they employ a staff of Titanian telepaths to keep watch. They are specially trained to not delve directly into the minds of the clientele - only to pick up any thoughts of cheating. If I just made my way casually back through the Casino, and kept calm, there was a pretty good chance I could be back on the boardwalk - and getting the hell out of Dodge - before anybody batted an eye. Nobody would ever be the wiser that I had even been here tonight.
Of course... things never play out that easy.
"Ex? Exnihil?"
I had just gotten out of the airlift and was heading back into the Casino when I heard my name being called from the cashier window. I tried to play it off, but the guy finished cashing out and started heading my way.
"Say... Exnihil! " He headed toward me with a big grin. It was the same fellow I'd seen with his eyes glued to the slots earlier. I stopped short, trying to come up with a story quick, in case this guy started asking too many questions. He sidled up on me and grabbed my hand in a shake. He must have caught the panic in my eyes because he let loose with a big laugh.
"You don't remember me, do you?" he laughed.
"The face rings a bell, but I..."
"Kid Quislet!" he interrupted. "We worked together on that 'Primary Color Gang' deal a few years back."
Of course. Now I placed him. Kid Quislet - he was one of the junior partners over at Quislet Esq.'s Super Law Firm. A nice enough guy from what I remembered, but a little of a behind-the-scenes type - usually letting Quislet Esq. run point. He ran a lot of the legwork during a rights negotiation with The Yellow Kid for a holo-piece I produced back in '08. I remembered being impressed with how thorough he was, cutting through a lot of the red tape. Any other time, I'd buy the guy a drink but, right then, my head was swimming.
"Sure... Kid Quislet," I said, trying to put on a good face. "How've you been... still fighting the good fight?"
"Always, always. You have a good Klordny?"
"Yeah... you? I thought all you double-breasted types were partying over at the Vudoo Lounge tonight."
At that comment, it was his eyes that got a look of panic. "Yeah, that... uh... that broke up a couple of hours back. I figured I'd pop in over here to try out my luck a little before calling it a night."
I did a double take. His story smelled fishier than a Hykraian after a day on Talok VIII. I had seen the Lounge still in full swing on my way over here. Why was he lying to me? I looked at Kid Quislet's face again and, suddenly, it clicked.
I wasn't looking at a guy who "popped in" at the Casino on a whim. From the way he'd been working that fruit machine earlier, I'd be willing to lay odds he had his own chair here, and that the cocktail girls knew him by name. I'd guess there was a pretty good chance that having a chronic gambler on staff wouldn't be something that'd play too well at the Law Office. If I knew human nature, Kid Quis probably wouldn't want word getting out that anybody had seen him any more than I did.
"Oh, yeah?" I said, throwing out just a hint of challenge. It was a crappy play on my part, but I had bigger things to deal with right now. He started backing down in a hurry, getting a little flustered.
"Yeah... so... anyway, listen, I've got to get going, but, uh... let me... uh..." He started fishing in his pockets. "Let me give you a card... hmm... guess I'm out of cards, but... if you ever need anything, you just give a call over to Quislet's, OK?"
"I'll do that."
I was still in a daze over Lotta, but I felt bad about putting the guy on the spot. I gave him a pat on his shoulder. "Listen, you take care of yourself, hey, Kid?"
"Aw, Ex... don't you worry about me. You take care of yourself." He gave me a wink and started walking back into the Casino.
I stood there - drained - and watched him disappear into the crowded floor as my situation came rushing back to me in force. Yeah... take care of myself.
How in the world was I going to do that?
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I made it down to the boardwalk about half past four. The sun was just beginning to crack the horizon, rolling back that long dark night and starting a new day on Legion World.
The whole strand was still deserted - as anybody with half a brain was home safe and sound by then. I saw the fire pit over at the Vudoo Lounge a couple miles down had been doused out. Just a thin line of smoke was still getting pulled out to sea by the morning breeze. Seeing that place made me think again about Kid Quislet. It was a shame but, really, who was I to pity him? Guy gets that old super-monkey on his back, I imagine it takes a pretty strong bit of Kryptonite to knock it off.
Me... I had something a lot bigger than a monkey weighing me down and - unless this entire night turned out to be a dream, a hoax, or some kind of imaginary story - it was going to take a lot more than some hunk of space rock for me to exit the scene with a wink.
I continued padding my way down the boardwalk - a hundred questions spinning around my brain bucket.
What had Lotta gotten mixed up in? Was this thing something that somebody had been cooking up for a while, or was it just random - a stroke of bad luck on her part? I thought about the way she was done in. No... this thing was way too vicious - too personal - to just be some night stalker that picked a random pretty dame to practice his butchering skills on.
She left the door unlocked, so he wouldn't have had any problem getting in, but - apart from the scene in the bathroom - I didn't see any sign of struggle. Did she know this guy? The more I thought about it, the more it had to be. I saw that other glass sitting on the bar, and I was pretty sure that didn't look like the kind of drink Lotta went in for. Somebody was making himself at home before he did the deed.
That was another thing, though. She knew I was coming over, but didn't know when. She only left the Beacon a couple of hours before me. Unless she knew some faster way to the Grand Hotel than I did, that would have been all the time she had to get there, have somebody else over, get herself killed, and have her killer get away before I got there.
Unless the killer was already waiting for her when she got there... or if he was still there when I showed up. I shook my head. I didn't even want to think about that possibility.
No, there were just too many pieces of this puzzle that weren't fitting, and I had a pretty good hunch that the picture on the outside of the box didn't even match.
The early morning sky on the strand was starting to turn all the colors of the time stream. A little ways down the shore I saw some young gal in a tight elastic number doing some stretching out for what looked like a little morning exercise. I didn't want to get too close in case she noticed me, so I figured this was a good a place as any to grab some real estate and take a break before I made it the rest of the way home.
I watched as this girl - a tiny thing with long black hair - was wrapping up her stretches and started going into some tai chi looking moves, all fluid and graceful like. I always admired a person that knew how to move. It was a real pleasure to watch somebody like that in a fight. Me... I had no style. In a pinch, I could lay a guy out with the old Suicide Slum sucker punch, but a lot of those LMB guys had way more approach than I did.
I started wondering if maybe that girl was an LMB member. Well... it was too late now. I was already here and, if she did notice me, I'd just have to make up some story about having too hard a night at Klordny and heading to the beach to clear out my head. Wouldn't even really be a lie. I continued watching her, her arms extending out in arcs smoother than a Durlan's head. It was amazing that, even in world where there were things as brutal as what I'd seen back in that hotel, there was still beauty to be found.
After a while, this gal finished up her routine, then moved over to a long bag she had laid down on the sand. She reached inside and pulled out something long and thin. As she grabbed hold of it with both hands and raised it over her head, locking tight into a pose, I realized it was a sword.
"Kiai!"
I heard her voice echoing down the beach as she suddenly spun around, the sword making a clean arc from over her head to straight ahead. I jumped a bit in my seat at the sudden motion.
"Kiai!"
She turned the sword around in her hands and, going to a knee, pushed it straight backward. I winced again, getting a sudden flash of Lotta in the bathroom.
"Kiai!"
She pivoted on her knee, rising up to a standing position, her arms crossing as the sword came to a straight line directly above her eyes, as she faced directly toward me.
I don't whether it was the sharp, clipped violence of the girl's moves that did it to me, or the events of the night suddenly rushing back all at once, but - before I knew what was happening - I felt the hot, salty burn of tears rising up in my eyes.
My god... what was I going to do? I drew in a hard breath as the girl shouted again, spinning away from me as she continued her routine. I needed to calm down. I needed a trigarette.
I reached into my inside coat pocket to grab my pack and felt my hand hit something hard. A little confused, I grabbed the object and pulled it out to take a look. My heart sank.
It was Lotta's Omnicom.
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There's bad news... and then there's the kind of news that makes you want to flip off the set, kick in the screen and throw the whole mess right out of a 31st story window.
This was worse than both of them.
I didn't even remember slipping the Omnicom into my pocket. I must have been holding it when I'd pushed my way into the bathroom and just pocketed it without thinking. I didn't know all the features of the Omni3012, but I did know that one thing that came standard - for at least the past decade - was a multiversal positioning system. If anybody was trying to look for this piece right now, it would lead them right to yours truly.
I had to ditch this thing… and fast.
I couldn't bring it back to the Hotel - that would be a chump's move - and there was no way I could drop it here with that girl down on the beach as a witness. I had to get back into town, pronto, and get it into one of those public trash atomizers.
I cut further up the boardwalk, giving the girl a wide berth - didn't want her catching any better glimpse of my mug than she'd already gotten - and beat feet into town. I was a little further uptown than where I had cut in last night, so - looking around the city - I suddenly had an idea.
If I didn't miss my mark, I was only a couple of blocks from a Nova Express station. I took a quick look down at the Omnicom - it was about twenty after five. The Nova ran like clockwork every half hour. If I could make it to the station, I could hop the next train uptown and get pretty close to my apartment. I knew there was an atomizer about a block away where I could dump this piece, and be back at my place inside of ten minutes.
I made my move.
The Nova glided in right on time. I gave the station agent a sawbuck and grabbed my ticket. I figured using my credit chip would be just one more trace that placed me closer to the scene than I needed to be. I climbed on board and just about collapsed into a seat. This night had burned me down harder than an energy release generator and - if I didn't hold it together for a little while longer - I was in danger of drifting off into the dream demon's arms right then and there.
Except for me, the train was empty. Thanks for small miracles. It occurred to me, as the Nova fired up and started its rhythmic pulse uptown, that this would be a golden opportunity to give Lotta's Com a quick once over before it became nothing more than a pile of ash, and a few random quarks. It was a long shot, but maybe there was something on this piece that might shine a little light on who wanted Lotta out of the picture... and why.
I pulled out the Omnicom and turned it over. It was a sleek little number, all right - who knew what a thing like this could do? I pressed the touch screen and the thing came alive.
"Welcome back, Ms. Handsome. Please state your pass code to continue."
Aw, cripes. Of course it would be protected. What was I thinking?
I sighed a depressed, "No..." and went to put it back in my pocket, when it spoke again.
"Pass code accepted. Hello, Ms. Handsome. How may I help you this morning?"
I did a double take. Her pass code was "No"? Whatever else anybody'd say about Lotta, they can't say she didn't have a sense of humor. I looked at the Com again. Where should I start?
"Show me outgoing calls in the last 24 hours."
"No calls available."
Really? A dame that didn't like to gab? That was a little hard to swallow, but then it hit me. It's not that she didn't like chatting. It was just that she was exactly the type of girl that liked games... she wanted them to call her.
"Show me incoming calls in the last 24 hours."
"Incoming calls: 13 August 0930 - Junior Handsome; 13 August 1127 - Junior Handsome; 13 August 1305 - Spiffany Jewelers; 13 August 1325 - Legion World Bank; 13 August 1542 - Junior Handsome; 13 August 1734 - Junior Handsome; 13 August 2116 - Junior Handsome; 13 August 2118 - Junior Handsome; 13 August 2120 - Junior Handsome; 13 August 2122 - Junior Handsome"
Sheesh... either Junior liked keeping close tabs on his sister, or they were having a pretty decent spat yesterday. It scrolled down another ten or so two-minute calls from Junior. From the looks of the gaps, either she wasn't answering, or she was just hanging up. There was a gap for the block that we had been at the Beacon, then one other call listed... on August 14th at 0005 - right after Lotta had split the restaurant.
"14 August 0005 - Private Caller"
Fat lot of help that was.
Somebody was calling that had the means to bypass the Omnicomnal Identification Laws. ID was a mandatory part of the Omnicom contract - marketing was how Omni made the lion's share of their bread, and they weren't about to let some potential consumer slip through the cracks. To have somebody show up as "Private" either meant that this person had paid Omni off with a hefty bribe... or they were jamming their coms illegally. If they were jamming, there was no way I could hack the call, but I figured I'd roll the dice.
"Playback call 14 August 0005."
"Playback unavailable for selected call"
Yeah... that figured. What about a transcript? Even if I couldn't get the other side of the conversation, it might still pull up Lotta's.
"Transcript for call 14 August 0005."
"Partial transcript available for selected call. Text to follow."
In a flood, the screen filled with Lotta's side of the call:
"Hello?" ... "Darling... how are you?" ... "Yes, I know... sorry to have kept you waiting. Dinner was interminable. I assume you let yourself in?" ... "Ha, ha... you got my note." ... "Yes, I know that Torks don't have tails. That's the joke. I mean really, darling, I thought urbane humor was your specialty." ... "Well, you are my 'darling', darling." ... "Sigh... fine. Yes, of course, I have what you're looking for. I assume you have the money?" ... "Well, I had to ask. Listen, we'll have to dispense with any other 'business' tonight, all right? I have someone else coming over in a bit." ... "Oh, stop. It's nothing like that. It's that holo-producer my brother has been courting." ... "Yes." ... "Oh, you know him?" ... "Fine... know 'of' him. You know 'of' a great many people, I suspect. Must you always be so precise?" ... "Yes, I am going to tell him." ... "The world should know the truth. She should know." ... "Well, it's really none of your business, in any case." ... "Yes." ... "Hmm... about thirty minutes I'd say." ... "Well, fix yourself a drink." ... "Ugh. She can wait. I'm certain she can keep herself occupied for a little bit. Perhaps the shiny lights in the casino will amuse her." ... "I'm sorry... I know I'm cruel. I'll be there in just a bit." ... "Kisses, darling."
End of Transcript
The transcript came to end just as the Nova pulled into my station. I powered down the Com and slipped it back in my pocket, climbing up out of my seat.
What a sap I had been.
That holo-note in Lotta's room wasn't even meant for me. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who Lotta had been talking to. Guy goes to all that trouble to block his ID, and Lotta all but spills the beans on it with her catty chatty routine. Just try and prove it, though.
I thought I had it pegged pretty well from who I had seen down in the Casino - but there was nothing explicit in that call that would definitively place old Tamper Lad on the other end. Even if I could prove it - from Lotta's side of the chat, there wasn't anything I heard that sounded like there was murder in the wind. Sure... it sounded like the two of them were mixed up in some kind of shady deal, but, with Tamper, I figured that just sort of goes with the territory.
It was that second part that really caught my eye, though. What was she going to tell me last night that made him question her? Who was this "she" that had to know the truth? And - more to the point - was it something that somebody would kill for?
I would have loved to have more time to go over the rest of her calls like Azra Saugin digging for treasure, but every minute I was walking around with this piece was one minute more that I risked somebody tying it to me... and tying a noose around my neck.
I walked up to the atomizer at the end of my street, gave a quick look down the block for any Johnny Q. Publics, and then dropped it in. It fired up immediately, roared for a second or two, then said, "Thank you for keeping our city clean, Citizen."
I let out a disgusted snort. Keeping it clean, eh?
Brother… this city couldn't get any dirtier.
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My head hit the pillow harder than if I'd been laid out by a Rimborian uppercut. This night had dragged me in more directions than a Starhaven tracker on the tail of a teleporter and - whatever else the days ahead of me had in store - right now my body needed sleep.
My mind - on the other hand - was just getting started. I drifted off into that black hole of sleep - the old noodle working overtime, spinning all the pieces of this puzzle around every which way, trying to find any two of them that would fit together.
I was standing in the corner of a boxing ring, my gloved hands resting on the rope looking out into the crowd. It was a sea of faces, all of them laughing like they were watching an episode of "Tenzil for the Defense". I scanned around the crowd looking for anybody I knew - my eyes coming to rest on Tamper Lad, sitting right in the front row.
He was holding a big snifter of brandy, just swirling it around and grinning at me like he knew all my dirtiest secrets. I called out to him, but no sound was coming out of my mouth. This made him grin even bigger, as he raised his other hand towards me in a fist and slowly put up his middle finger.
The bell rang.
I turned around into the ring, but before I could even get my footing, the neanderthal paw of Junior Handsome cracked into my jaw. The whole ring turned blue. I stumbled to my feet and tried to put up my glove, but Junior's fist came in from the other direction laying me out with a body blow. The whole ring turned red.
I fell to the ground as Kid Quislet appeared over me in a ref's outfit, starting to count me down for the count. He looked right in my eyes and slowly shouted, "One". He pointed to Junior standing in his corner. He waited a second, like he wanted me to say something. I just looked confused at him, so he shouted, "Two," pointing to the ring girl waiting on the side with her card. It was Lotta Handsome, a line of stitches across her neck. He waited again, got nothing from me, so shouted, "Three," and pointed to my corner. I turned to look, but the bell rang again.
I forced myself to my feet, collapsing down on the stool that appeared in my corner. I sat facing the ring as a pair of female hands appeared from behind me, wiping my face down with a towel. After a second, the girl dropped the towel, and I felt her hand rest on my forehead. It was the most soothing thing I ever felt. All of a sudden, though, the hand tensed up - jerking my head backward and locking me tight into place. Before I could even react, out of the corner of my eye I saw a sword coming down over me. It arced down in front of me and - with a sudden slam - plunged right into my gut.
The bell rang.
I woke up with a scream - covered in a cold sweat and panting like a space canine patrol agent chasing down a phanty cat. It was already dark outside. I looked down at my Omnicom - already seven at night. I had slept through the whole day.
I heard a bell ringing and - still only half awake - got a little confused. Something about a boxing ring? The bell rang again and I realized it was my room-com. Without thinking, I mumbled, "Connect".
"Hello... Hello?! Ex! You there?!"
It was Junior Handsome, sounding half crazed. What was I thinking... why did I connect the stupid line? I couldn't just ignore him now - he knew the line was live. I cleared my throat and tried to put on a calm voice.
"Hello... Junior?"
"Ex, thank god! I've been trying to reach you all day."
"Junior, slow down... what's the matter?"
I dreaded what was coming next. From the string of calls I had seen on Lotta's Omnicom, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that he was trying to call her today, too. A whole day had passed since Lotta was killed... had they opened the room?
"Ex... it's my sister. Something bad's happened."
I tried to keep my voice on an even keel, but already I could hear it cracking. "Wh... what happened?"
"I tried to call her this morning, but I kept getting an error... like her Com was broken or something."
"You know... well... maybe it is..."
"No, that's impossible. She's got a 3012 - it's got auto redirect. Unless it was completely destroyed, it'd connect you to the service. But, look... that's not important right now. Listen... Ex... you gotta be straight with me... did you see my sister last night? After you left the restaurant?"
I didn't know what was going on, but there wasn't a duralim wand's chance in a lightning storm that I was tipping my hand this early - without knowing what he knew.
"What? No... I think she said she was going back to her hotel." I said, trying to shift the focus off me.
"That's just it, though. The call kept erroring out... so I went to her hotel."
I knew this was it - the other shoe was about to drop. From this point on, everything was gonna hit the fan, and I had to make damn sure I didn't get caught in the cross breeze.
"You did?"
"The door was locked from the inside, but I made a big stink with the management - telling them I knew something was wrong. They wound up having to override the system, but they got the door open."
"Y... yeah?"
"Yeah. Ex..." I heard Junior's throat catch, "...she's gone."
"Wh... what do you mean, 'gone'?"
I braced myself. God... this was it.
"Her whole room was empty - just cleaned out! It looks like she flew the coop, Ex... my sister's gone missing!"
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I listened to Junior blubbering away for the next hour in just a numb daze. Turns out that old Junior - for as big a palooka as he came across as - wanted me to believe he was about the straightest shooter in this whole mess.
He came clean with me about the dough. It was true - he told me - Lotta had been holding all the purse strings in the family ever since old Molock had kicked off. Junior was straight about wanted to clear the family name - that's why he came to me with the holo-idea - but Lotta wasn't having any of it. She was on board with making a holo... but she wanted to use it to dredge up a lot of old family business, stuff that Junior said was better off left in the past.
When she found out he was meeting with me over Klordny, she insisted on coming along, or - she had threatened - the money would dry up as far as he was concerned. He had called her non-stop that day, trying to square things over and convince her that she was making a mistake. Starting around nine the night before, she just stopped answering and he had to wound up having to bite the bullet... just hoping that Lotta wouldn't blow the whole thing when we met at the Beacon.
It all matched up with what I had seen on Lotta's com, so either he was telling the truth... or this guy told a better story than a whole parliament of rooks.
He told me that he got worried that Lotta was going to queer the deal when we started dancing but - after she split - he figured she must have tried her play... but I wasn't buying it. At least that's what he hoped. When he called Lotta today and got no answer, he started fretting again. That's when he headed to Zaryan's and found her room wiped out cleaner than a defeated computer tyrant's memory banks.
There was just one other wrinkle to Junior's sob story that might have thrown a sonic screwdriver into the whole works. Turns out he did the one thing that I wasn't able to do... something that maybe would have given the whole thing a different slant if I had... he called the Legion World Security Office.
They showed up with a couple of beat guys and gave the room a once over. They told him that they wouldn't be able to do anything until she'd been missing for at least 48 hours. She was a big girl, they said, and maybe just wanted some time to herself without her big brother breathing down her neck. I told Junior that, given everything, that sounded pretty solid and that he shouldn't worry so much.
It must have done the trick to hear that from somebody he trusted because, after another ten minutes or so, he thanked me for being a good friend, and let me go. A good friend? That fellow must have been pretty spun around to start laying that title on me. If he knew half of what had gone down that night, the only thing he'd be likely to lay on me were his fists.
I couldn't blame him though. Listening to Junior's own story had made me dizzier than a super-spinner beast from Monster World. Lotta's body was gone - her room cleared out. Either that gal wasn't half as dead as I thought she was - not likely unless she had a secret super-hero life as Head-Falls-Off-Girl - or somebody was making damned sure to cover their tracks.
My thoughts, of course, went back to Tamper Lad. I already knew that he had a key to her room - he was waiting for her there when he called her. But he also knew that I was coming up later on. Why would he kill her... let me find her... then come back and clean up after himself? It just didn't figure... why not just leave me holding the bag? Unless, for some reason he didn't want anybody knowing she was dead?
That left me as a very loose end that he'd eventually have to tie up, but - given that I hadn't heard word one from Tamper - it didn't seem like he was in too much of a hurry.
Then there was that guy, Kid Quislet... he'd seemed like he was in an awful big hurry to beat feet back to the Casino after I called him out on the whole Vudoo Lounge thing. I'd marked it down at the time to not wanting his little gambling jones getting back to the boss, but what if it was more than that? Was he somehow mixed up in this? He'd seen me at Zaryan's at the very least, so - once word got out - if he was... and needed a fall guy... I'd probably look like a very tempting bit of bait.
And what about Junior, himself? Sure... he talked a good game, but what if it was all a bunch of guff? What if he was so worried about the money that he was willing to do whatever it took to make sure his sister didn't close down the Bank of Handsome. Could this whole "legit" thing just be a front to the fact that his hands were still as dirty as ever? He couldn't have made it to Zaryan's before me, but he could have had a guy waiting for her to do the deed for him.
Sure... and maybe you did it, Ex. Maybe you're just a psychopath killer who blacks out and doesn't even remember killing a dame. What a crock. Truth is: I'm coming across like I had some kind of crazy lead on what was going on here, like everybody and their brother was a likely suspect, but - at the time - I was flying as blind as a Kathoonian Fruitbat.
I laid low for a couple of days, just trying to get my head together, before heading back into the office. When I finally did, my secretary all but tackled me with a pile of paperwork.
"Where have you been???"
"What... I'm not allowed to get sick once in a while?"
"Not when we've got deadlines pouring down like rain, boss." She snapped her gum and started reading down a list.
"Let's see... you've got about a hundred calls from Director Lad about 'The Engine Joe Story'... apparently, if you don't act quick, the option's running out on 'Whatever Happened to Lev Lad?'.... the Bank called, and we're late on the lease again... the rights for the..."
"Effie... Effie... it will all get taken care of. What's the most important thing on the slate?"
"Right now? There's a guy waiting for you in your office."
"What? Why did you let him in?"
"Oh... I'm sorry, boss... a guy starts flashing a badge in my face, I sorta do what he asks."
"A badge?"
"Yeah... some guy from the Security Office. Says his name is Matlock."
And that's where you came into the story, Matt...
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I got to admit, Matt, the first time I saw you sitting in my office - decked out in that trench coat looking like it had it had been pulled out of some foxhole in Venado Bay - I just about breathed a sigh of relief. If this rumpled flatfoot was the best the Security Office could do, I figured I'd be able forget about this whole Lotta Handsome business faster than a Bloodlines character introduction.
Little did I know that once you got a nagging itch about a case, you'd scratch at it until you just about bled the truth out of every last person mixed up in the whole sorry mess.
I walked into my office, pushing all the fear I'd been feeling those past few days deep down into my gut - trying hard to fill the space with that old Nihil charm.
"Good afternoon, Detective..."
"Matlock."
"Matlock, yes. Sorry to have kept you waiting."
"Not a problem... your secretary said you're a little under the weather?"
"I'm all right... just had a bit of a long Klordny."
"Ha, ha... we've all been there."
"So," I said, grabbing my seat behind my desk, gearing up to keep this grilling as short and sweet as I could, "I'm afraid I don't have a ton of time... but Effie said you had a few questions for me about Ms. Handsome?"
"That's right... this shouldn't take more than a few minutes of your time. I'm just looking to clear a few things up."
"Absolutely... any help I can give you. I know that Junior Handsome is pretty broken up about his sister going missing and all."
"Thanks... it's always tough when you think somethings happened to a member of your family. Are you a family man, Mr. Nihil?"
I was a little taken aback by the question, but just rolled with it. "Ah... no, actually. My parents passed away about ten years ago."
"No wife... no kids?"
"Nope, just a happy bachelor."
"Well... you're missing out on a full life, Mr. Nihil. Mrs. Matlock and I have nine kids ourselves - every one of them more full of beans than the last."
"That sounds like quite a handful."
"Ah... wouldn't trade it for the world."
"Hmm... so, uh... Lotta Handsome?"
"Yeah, of course, forgive me. You get me talking about my kids, you'll never shut me up. So... how well did you know Ms. Handsome?"
I shifted in my chair. "Not well, I afraid. I only just met her for the first time on Klordny."
"At the..." flipping through your Omnipad, "... the Beacon Restaurant... is that right?"
"Yes, the Beacon."
"Fancy place... the Beacon. Mrs. Matlock loves all that high society stuff but... you know... detective's salary."
"I suppose. I try to take all the larger backers there. Helps to set a good first impression for people you're trying to get to finance holo-pics."
"I'll bet. So... Ms. Handsome was a financial backer for one of your holos, then?"
"No... Junior Handsome. Lotta was just there as his guest."
"Really? See... I thought..." flipping again, "I thought that Lotta Handsome was the executer of the Handsome estate."
Sharp.
Right then and there, I knew that you probably already knew half of what you were asking me. I figured I'd better start playing straight with you... at least up to the time I went to Zaryan's.
"Yeah... that's right... but I didn't find that out until later. Up until then, I thought Junior Handsome was the sole person with an interest in the project."
"Uh huh... so when did Ms. Handsome tell you the real story?"
"During a dance, actually."
"At the Beacon?"
"At the Beacon."
"Just one dance?"
"Just one."
"Is that right? Hmm. That's a heck of a piece of info to lay on somebody during a five minute do-si-do, wouldn't you say? That Ms. Handsome must have been some dancer. Did the conversation continue after the dance?"
I narrowed my eyes. "No. I have to admit, I was sort of taken unawares by the whole thing. I danced with her, but just played dumb back at the table afterward, figuring I'd have to have a talk with Junior later. He beat me to the punch, though. He came clean about the whole thing the next night when he called me about Lotta."
"How about that. Hmm... so... after the Beacon... was that the last time you saw Ms. Handsome?"
"That's right. She said she had a headache and left around midnight."
"That's sort of odd behavior for somebody that was looking to do business, though, wouldn't you say?"
"Yeah... I would. But who knows what was going through her mind... like I say, I'm not that familiar with the lady. I really don't know what her angle was."
"Uh huh... so did she say anything else... mention that she was planning on meeting anybody else that night... or that she might be leaving town for a while?"
"Can't say that she did... not to me, at least."
I remember you looking at me just then for just a second too long. I was half thinking you were about to jump up and slap me in cuffs right then. But that's when you just closed down your pad, and stood up like you were wrapping up.
"OK... well... thank you for your time, Mr. Nihil. It's not much... but every little bit helps. Some time this week... when you get the time... I'm going to need you to come down to the station and give a statement, if you don't mind."
"Sure... no problem. It'll have to be a liitle later this week, though."
"Perfectly all right. Thanks for all your help... Oh! Just one more thing..."
"What's that?" I said, standing up as well.
"It's a little embarrasing..."
"No, no... what can I do for you?"
"Well... it's Mrs. Matlock. She's just crazy about all this holo stuff. Would you mind... do you think I could get her an autograph?"
"Yeah... yeah... of course. Let me just get a stylus..."
"Oh... that's OK... here, you can use mine... just 'To Mrs. Matlock'. That would be great."
"No problem at all," I said signing into your pad. "I don't know how impressive a producer's autograph is, but..."
"Oh, no. It would mean the world to her. Oh, you're a southpaw, huh?"
"Yeah... Nihil trait, I guess. My dad was too."
"Is that a fact? You know what they used to call lefties back in ancient Rome? 'Sinister'! Yeah... that's the Latin word for 'left-handed'. Isn't that something?"
"Yeah... it's something all right. Well, thank you for stopping by, Detect..."
"Matlock"
"Matlock. I hope I've been able to help you."
"Well... it's a tough one, you know... girl goes missing like that. But... we'll find her, don't you worry."
"Let's hope."
When you smiled and turned to leave, for half a second I almost thought that might have been the end of my part in this drama - that I'd finally be able to get to sleep that night without that impending feeling of doom hanging over me... but then you stopped...
"Oh! One more thing... I almost forgot. Ms. Handsome's Omnicom. You didn't happen to notice if she accidentally left it sitting on the table at the Beacon when she left, did you?"
I swallowed. "Ah... no... I can't say that I did. Why?"
"Well... the strangest thing... these new Omnicoms they're making. The... uh... the 3012s... it seems they've got this little multiverse positioning chip in them. It works on some kind of... I don't know... quantum something... I've never been big on all that fancy science stuff. But, apparently this thing is smaller even than an atom. Well... it seems Ms. Handsome's - the chip that is, not the whole Com - wound up in ones of the dumps where they send all that ash from those trash atomizers they have. It was still sending out a pulse. You believe that?"
"Really?" I could feel the panic rising back up from my gut. I just prayed it wasn't going as high as my eyes.
"Yeah... I figured that it didn't make much sense that Ms. Handsome would have just thrown the Com away herself, so I thought... I don't know... maybe some busboy or something might have grabbed it and accidentally thrown it into the atomizer."
"No... I didn't see..."
"Oh, well. It was worth a shot. It'll be a couple days yet before we're able to get the back-routes from the dump to figure out the general grid where the Com was ditched. I was just hoping to hit a lucky break."
"Me too."
"What's that?"
I shook my head, like I was lost in thought for a second. "I... was just saying that I was hoping you could hit a break, too. I didn't know her that well... but this has to be tough on Junior."
"Yeah. Well... thanks again for your time, Mr. Nihil and... like I say... when you get a chance this week, come on over to the station to make that statement."
"Will do."
I watched as you exited my office and - with you - any hope I had that I could just wash my hands of all this.
I sat down at my desk, nibbling away at a fingernail. You were good, Matt... no doubt... but how good? If you kept on this route, it didn't take a Brainiac to see that the footprints you were following were going to lead you right back to this office.
I had to know exactly who you were talking to... and how much you already knew.
I needed somebody to help me out. I needed my Gal Friday.
I pressed the office-com.
"Effie?"
"Yeah, boss?"
"Get me Emily Sivana."
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Emily Sivana might have been about the dizziest dame I'd ever butted heads with... but there was nobody on Legion World I knew I could depend on more.
The first time I met her, I found myself looking down the wrong end of one her razor-tipped arrows. A year later, she found herself on the end of a lip lock I was trying to lay on her. Somewhere in between taking the wrong turns toward killing and kissing, we figured out that we were both heading down the same road... ticking off the miles on our way toward a town named Trust.
I knew the Security Office was breathing down my neck, but I needed to know what doors they were knocking down to get their info. I needed eyes on, and there was nobody on Legion World with a better set of eyes than Emily.
A lot of people figure an archer's best assets are their arms - but even the best set of cables in the world couldn't put that hole in the target time after time without the peepers to match. With Emily it wasn't even a question. This gal could not only spot a family of Imskians dancing on a pinhead at 100 meters... she could make them all change step with a single shot. Not a bad ace to have up my sleeve and - what's more - she owed me one.
I gotta admit, the slap took me by surprise.
"Owe you one??? You've got a hell of a nerve, Nihil!"
The night crowd at SHAKES bar briefly shot a glance over in our direction, but seeing a fellow getting broadsided by a dame's palm was nothing new here. I rubbed my cheek as Emily continued laying into me.
"You drag me out to some shindig that I didn't even want to go to... get half-snookered... try to smooch me... almost get me killed in that whole "Johnny Halloween" business... and then expect a favor from me?"
"I saved you from Johnny Halloween."
"You brought me there in the first place!"
"This is because I didn't call afterward, isn't it?"
"Nihil... I am about two seconds from using your stupid necktie knot for target practice. The only reason I even agreed to meet you here is because your secretary said you had a job for me. Start talking... or start shopping around for another patsy to pull your fat out of the fire. What the sprock are you mixed up in this time?"
I grinned at Emily. She and I might have loved having a go at each other's throats - but I knew, as well as she did, that she couldn't resist the thrill of a job. I pulled her into a corner booth and started laying my cards out.
"All right... just settle down. Here's the deal. You heard about Lotta Handsome?"
"That mob princess that went missing? You didn't kill her, did you?"
"What... no! Keep your voice down."
"You did... didn't you?"
"Knock it off, OK? Number one - she's not a mob princess..."
"Oh, yeah... the Handsomes are just pillars of the community, right?"
"...and number two - they don't even know if she's dead."
"But... you do, right?"
I swallowed hard. If I couldn't trust Emily, then I had nobody. I lowered my voice, and continued on.
"Yeah... yeah, I do. The long and the short of it is that I was working a deal with Lotta. Well... you know better then anybody, sometimes when I'm working with a dame, I don't exactly think with the right part of my brain..."
"Or any part..."
"Yeah, yeah... well... the night of Klordny, she lays some info on me at the Beacon - and then tells me we're going continue the discussion later on in her hotel room..."
"Spare me."
"...except somebody else beat me to the party. I roll into Lotta's room that night and I find somebody else had already been there... and decided to have a field day with a ginsu."
"Grife, Nihil! You're serious? She is dead?"
"As Dillinger. I gotta to tell you, Em... I just panicked. I didn't know which way was up so I just got the hell out of there as fast as I could. But - before morning even rolls around - Mr. "Slice and Dice" must have come back and cleaned the place out. By the time anybody even noticed she was missing... she really was missing."
"God... so why don't you just go to the Security Office with your sob story?"
"Are you kidding me? If you didn't know me... would you believe that cock and bull?"
"I know you and I still don't."
"All right... just cut the smart talk, OK? This is serious. It's just a matter of time before they start connecting the dots and come up with a picture of yours truly."
Emily sighed.
"Yeah... I get it. So, what do you want me to do?"
I looked at Emily and knew I made the right call. If this girl was in for an inch, she was in for a mile.
"There's this detective..."
"Who?"
"Matlock... you know him?"
"I know of him. That guy's a bloodhound, Nihil. If he gets a hint of your scent on this, he is going to track it down."
"Yeah... I got that vibe. He was asking all the right questions. Maybe too on the nose, if you know what I mean. I figure Junior Handsome had to have told him whatever he knows... and Director Lad... but it's like he knew more than either of them could have told him. There's got to be somebody else feeding Matlock info. Somebody's talking... but I can't figure how they could be... unless they're involved, as well, and are doing their best to point him back in my direction."
"So... you want me to tail Matlock, right?"
"For starters. Find out where he's been going... who he's been talking to. Use your instincts, though. If the flatfoot winds up leading you to a better mark, feel free to change your target. Whatever you think is the better lead."
"Don't tell me how to run a tail, Nihil. This isn't my first time on a job."
"I know...I know. I trust you, Em... more than anybody... I just don't want you getting too aggressive, you know? Info only, no engagement."
"Or... I could just not do it at all. Whatever you want, you know?"
I grimaced. I knew Emily tended to get caught up in the chase, but what choice did I have?
"All right, all right... I get it. Do what you need to. But Emily - seriously - thank you for this."
"Grife, Nihil... don't go getting all sappy on me. When this is all over, though... you're going to owe me one."
"Whatever you want, baby."
"Well, we can start with you never calling me 'baby' ever again, or the Security Office won't be the only ones trying to put you six feet under." She stood up from the booth, muttering under her breath as she walked away, "...never took me to the Beacon, you know..."
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