Torch Song: A Kickass Heroine, A Post-Apocalyptic World: Book One Of The Blackjack Trilogy (16 page)

“Yes, on the house sys. I thought it was working but you obviously didn’t get it. Anyway, you’re right on time. We’re going out to lunch for Fredo’s birthday. We’d love to have you come— do you like Chinese?”

I studied their faces until Fredo squirmed. “Is something wrong, Rica?” he asked. He focused on my cheek. “Oh, my, that’s an angry scratch.”

“No. Nothing’s wrong.” I touched my face. I needed to cover that scratch with makeup.

This couldn’t be a trap. It was too sideways. If the Colemans wanted to kill me, I reasoned, they wouldn’t send Timmy and Fredo to do it, not with some elaborate chow fun scheme. They’d send someone up to my room at 3 a.m. and carry my body out in a money sack.

“I’d love to go to lunch with you. Just let me make a quick stop first. Give me ten minutes.” They nodded and plunked themselves down on a couple of slot machine stools.

I wanted to let the chief know about the war games. I wasn’t sure yet whether I should also tell her I had been spotted creeping around in the woods. I was reluctant to look clumsy this early in the game and I didn’t know what game Hannah was playing anyway.

I was hungry, I realized. Starving even. Sometimes I get that way when I’ve been scared half to death, after the nausea passes. I liked and trusted Timmy, and I had no reason to think that Fredo was anything but what he appeared to be. Lunch away would give me an excuse to put some time and space between myself and the casino, and see if I could find out more about Blackjack, about the Colemans, and possibly about Hannah Karlow. Anything I could learn about her would be helpful at this point.

I dashed to my room and closed the door. The chief answered immediately. I told her I’d followed Samm and watched their army on maneuvers.

“How many people?” the chief wanted to know.

“Around 50.” I wanted to get back downstairs before Timmy and Fredo started wondering where I was. But the chief was more eager to get offline than I was.

“Good work. I have to go now. Keep at it.” She was gone.

Keep at it? She hadn’t bothered to ask where they held the war games or how good they looked or who was doing what. She must have been heading toward some kind of emergency. Even if I’d been sure I wanted to tell her Hannah had seen me, I’d have had no chance to do it. And I still had to let Newt know there was, indeed, an army of sorts, just as he’d heard.

He wasn’t answering so I left a message. I gave him what I’d given the chief, and a very general, nearly useless, description of the location. The chief’s behavior had made me nervous and I wasn’t sure I wanted Newt to have more than she did. My gut was telling me to hold back until I knew more. About everybody.

I didn’t bother to check the house sys for the message from Tim. I found my stage makeup and dabbed some on the scratch. Not bad. The entire side trip had taken twelve minutes and when I got back down to the casino, Tim and Fredo were still sitting on their stools, chatting happily, not the least put out by the wait.

The three of us walked out the front door and east along the old strip. I hadn’t gone far in this direction before, always seemed to be heading toward or over the old California line. Hadn’t had much time for idle exploration.

King Yen was a few blocks from Blackjack, a nicely decorated place with flamboyant Chinese masks on the walls, gilded mirrors, a dozen black-iron-legged tables and chairs, and white tablecloths and napkins.

It was just past noon, and about two-thirds of the tables were occupied. When we walked in, a tall server swept past us carrying a tray of something that smelled wonderful. I caught a glimpse of rice and vegetables. Another Asian man, this one standing no higher than my shoulder, even shorter than Tim, approached with big red menus, smiling, and led us to a table in the back. He handed us the menus and left us alone.

“This is nice,” I said, still wondering if Hannah Karlow would leap out from under a table and shoot me.

Fredo nodded. “You absolutely have to try the egg rolls. And the pork buns! You can’t miss those.”

Timmy smiled fondly, shaking his head. “Fredo eats meat all the time. It’s so out of character for an animal-lover. He always feels bad about it.”

I studied the menu. I could understand Fredo’s problem. All my adult life I’d felt guilty for eating meat, even fish, but I couldn’t seem to do without it. I guess I just didn’t feel guilty enough. Or there was something about spending so much time running for my life that seemed to call for a carnivorous attitude.

We chose pork buns, happy family— fish and meat— vegetable egg rolls, and a tofu-vegetable dish. All of which suited me just fine.

“And a bottle of wine to celebrate Fredo’s 65th!” Timmy insisted.

“Oh, sweetie, I’ll nod off.”

“Then you’ll take a nap this afternoon. This is no time to worry about little things.”

Fredo capitulated and we settled on a Napa chardonnay. Red’s my preference, but the birthday boy had the choice. I thought I might have to take a nap myself to get through my debut in the lounge that night. I’d been up since before dawn on four hours sleep. Not to mention the stress of the eye-fight with Hannah. And now, wine. But I didn’t want to spoil the celebration by begging off.

And still no Hannah or Zack or Samm leaping out of the kitchen, lasers blazing.

The minute we laid our menus down the server dashed over to take our order. He brought the wine immediately. Fredo tasted, nodded, and we filled our glasses.

“To my darling Fredo!” Timmy was so happy.

We all took a sip. Icy cold and not at all bad for white wine. I’d have heartburn later.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Twenty-seven years this May,” Fredo said, his eyes glistening. Was I jealous? A little. Possibly.

Timmy was practically bouncing in his seat. What was going on with him? He seemed awfully excited for just a birthday lunch.

He burst out: “I just can’t hold it any longer. I have the most wonderful surprise, something Fredo has always wanted.”

Fredo’s eyes grew wide. “Really?”

“I did it, Fredo. I bought us a house. And I can’t wait to show it to you! You’re going to just love it.”

He had a right to be proud. On a server’s pay, it would have been tough to save even the small amount of money it took to buy a house. When someone had one that was even semi-livable and wanted to sell, he wanted cash, payment in full. I’d heard that people used to put up a small percentage— if they could even afford to do that— and then borrow the rest, paying a house off for years and years. I couldn’t imagine it. Houses as rare and expensive as diamonds. A crazy thought.

“Oh, Tim— we get three rooms free at Blackjack, isn’t this awfully extravagant? Shouldn’t we save the money for our retirement? It must have cost so much.” But despite his protests, he was flushed, clearly thrilled.

“Not so much. And now you can have all the pets you want and Roberta and Harvey will have a yard.”

“Roberta and Harvey?” They had children?

“Our cats,” Fredo explained. “We had a dog, too, Oscar. But he got old and died. Just last year.” Fredo’s eyes looked damp, and he sighed. I reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

It had never occurred to me that people would have pets in their rooms at the casino. But this was a good opening to get onto the subject I wanted to explore.

“The Colemans don’t mind if you have pets there?”

“Of course not,” Fredo said. “Feel free to have a furry friend. They prefer that you keep it to one, because after all most of the employees have just one or two rooms. But they wouldn’t dream of denying people the joy of pets. Judith had a dog until just a couple years ago. A litter mate of Oscar’s.”

“That’s very sweet of them.” It really was. Or smart.

Both Fredo and Timmy nodded vigorously.

“But we’ve always wanted a little cottage of our own, haven’t we, Tim?”

“And Fredo has always wanted a houseful of strays. He’s one of those people they just seem to find.” He smiled affectionately at his partner. They were so cute, so sweet, I couldn’t help but wonder again if this was some kind of trap. But I knew it wasn’t. They were real. It was my life that wasn’t real.

My sys vibrated and I excused myself to go to the toilet. They must have thought I had a very weak bladder.

The toilet was a one-seater, and empty. The call was from Newt.

“That location you gave me. I can’t figure out where it is.”

My gut was still urging me to play it close. “Sorry, I’ll try to get a better fix on it. For now though, I got the impression they move the war games around, keep the location changing.”

“Yeah? How’d you get that impression?” This wasn’t making him trust me any more than he already did.

“Samm said something about letting them know where it would be next time.” The lie sounded pretty good, even to me. For all I knew they did move it around and Samm had said exactly that, after I left.

He grunted. “About 50 soldiers, you say?” He sounded unhappy about it, which probably meant he hadn’t thought there were so many.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Keep me informed.”

I flushed the toilet and went back to the table.

Our food had arrived. I picked up an egg roll and dipped it into the hot mustard. Thoughtfully, I said, “It constantly amazes me, how well the Colemans take care of their people. I know Waldo’s related to them, but he’s so… different.”

Timmy snorted. “Different is a nice word for that bastard.”

“And he seems so useless. Why do you think they keep him on?”

Timmy looked uncomfortable. “My guess is he knows things.”

“Things?” Was my innocence overdone? I wasn’t enjoying playing games with him.

“The Colemans are very powerful people.” He’d lowered his voice. I could barely hear him. He leaned in closer. “And they could do a lot of good for Sierra. But you know, sometimes doing good means doing things that some people might not think are, well, good.”

“Like what?”

He exhaled, loudly. “I don’t really know. I’m just guessing that maybe sometimes… well I just don’t know. You know what I mean. Politics.” He nodded, definitively, conclusively, grabbing the spoon that rested in the tofu dish and helping himself to some. Fredo took a big bite out of a fragrant pork bun, rolling his eyes in ecstasy.

I pressed a little deeper. “But why would they trust him to keep secrets?” Did any of those secrets have to do with the mayor’s murder? Could “doing good” include killing someone who the Colemans thought was bad for the town? “Sometimes secrets can be sold.”

Tim studied me over a chopstick-load of tofu. “And he’d be the first one they’d suspect. Smarter for him to take what he gets from his family.” That made some sense, and with Timmy looking at me harder than I wanted him to, it didn’t seem like the right moment to push. But I might not get a better one; I had to ask.

“I know the mayor was murdered. Was he bad for the town, do you think?”

Tim looked at me, surprised. “He was okay. Didn’t do much. What are you asking me, Rica?”

I took a deep breath. “I heard someone saying that he thought the Colemans killed the mayor.”

Tim giggled. He was more comfortable with the topic of murder than he was with the topic of politics. He poked at a piece of broccoli stem with his chopsticks. “Can’t imagine why they’d do that. Far as I could tell, he never did anything without checking with them first.”

I dropped my voice to a whisper. “What if he did something the Colemans didn’t like?” I was frosting my naiveté with awe.

“I don’t think so,” Tim said, “At least not that I know. I thought he was pretty tight with Judith.” He shrugged. “Seemed that way anyhow.” He stuffed half a red-sauce-dipped egg roll into his mouth. “I remember she was the one who talked him into running.”

“And unless I’m mistaken,” Fredo said, “he was one of the casino’s best customers. I don’t actually know that he owed them anything, but I do know he ran a tab.”

So he was either in debt to the Colemans or they were in debt to him.

I’d find no easy solution to the mayor’s demise today. It was still possible the Colemans had done the man in, or, for all I knew, Scorsi himself did it. But the way things were in the world, his death might have been completely random. Almost anyone could have killed him for any reason. Some crazy hugger might have seen him trimming a hedge and decided he was a toxie. Some paranoid godder could have decided he was the devil. A fever-spot plaguey might have wandered out of the woods and hallucinated that the man was carrying vax.

I’d been wondering how to shift the topic to my worry of the moment, Hannah Karlow. Now Fredo had given me a strong segue.

“Speaking of good customers,” I began, “I’ve noticed a number of interesting looking regulars hanging around.”

Timmy rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, indeed.”

I lowered my voice again. “One in particular. Says she’s going to come and see my show. Her name’s Hannah.” Fredo scrunched up his eyes, trying to place her and failing. Timmy was chasing a hunk of carrot around his plate. “She’s got a long scar on her cheek. Thin woman—

"

“Oh, her!” Timmy cried, glancing archly at Fredo and back again at me. “So she’s a fan of yours?”

I laughed, trying to sound modest. “Possibly.”

“You’re not… interested in her, are you?”

Not the way he meant. “Not really. But is there some reason I shouldn’t be?”

“Well, I don’t know her well enough to give you that kind of advice, Sweetie, but she gives me the creepy-crawls. Something sly about that one.”

Timmy was a wise man. But they barely knew her. No information to be had there. I ate some Happy Family and shifted to the medicine show, something that might also involve the Colemans, at least according to Newt Scorsi’s accusations.

“I saw some flyers for a medicine show this afternoon. What’s that about?”

Fredo was chewing. Tim was sipping delicately at the somewhat sour wine. He scowled, swallowed and answered. “It’s a scam. They’re crooks selling useless trash to scared people.”

“Won’t the sheriff chase them away, then? And why does the casino let them put flyers up on the fence?”

Timmy smiled grimly. “I think our friend the sheriff can barely remember that he should be finding out who killed the mayor— as if he’s capable of doing that. As for the fence…” He shrugged.