Stories: All-New Tales

They left the dance floor as the lights came up and walked toward the huge structure that held the casino, the gaming rooms, the pleasure parlors of the Ice Garden. Three stories tall, in the style of a Venetian palace, it was a monster of shadows with moonlight in its eyes. At the portico that led inside, Dex handed her a twenty and said, “I’ll see you back at the table.”

“I know,” she barely managed and kissed him on the cheek.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Same old same old,” she said and sighed.

He was supposed to laugh but only managed a smile. They turned away from each other. As he skirted the dance floor on the return journey, Dex looked up at Nabob and saw the performer, midsong, flash a glance at him and then nod toward the table. There was Killheffer, sporting a tux and his so-called smile of a hundred teeth, smoking a Wrath Majestic and staring into the sky.

Arriving at the table, Dex took his seat across from Killheffer, who, still peering upward, said, “Gin wrinkles, I presumed.”

Dex noticed the fresh round of drinks, and reached for his.

“The stars are excited tonight,” said Killheffer, lowering his gaze.

“Too bad I’m not,” said Dex. “What’s it gonna be this time, Professor? Russian roulette? One card drawn from the bottom of a deck cut three ways? The blindfolded knife thrower?”

“You love to recall my miscalculations,” said Killheffer. “Time breaks down, though, only through repetition.”

“I’m fed up with your cockeyed bullshit.”

“Well, don’t be, because I tell you I’ve got it. I’ve done the math. How badly do you want out?”

“Want out?” said Dex. “I don’t even know how I got in. Tell me again you’re not the devil.”

“I’m a simple professor of circumstance and fate. An academic with too strong an imagination.”

“Then why that crazy smile? All your antics? That cigar of yours smells like what I vaguely remember of the ocean.”

“I’ve always been a gregarious fellow and prized a good cigar. The hundred-tooth thing is a parlor trick of multiplication.”

“I’m so fucking tired,” Dex said.

Killheffer reached into his jacket pocket and brought forth a hypodermic needle. He laid it on the table. “That’s the solution,” he said.

The large hypo’s glass syringe contained a jade green liquid.

Dex stared at it and shook his head. Tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. “Are you kidding? That’s it? That’s the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You have to trust me,” said Killheffer, still smiling.

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re here again. What is it? Poison? Cough syrup? Junk?”

“My own special mixture of oblivion; a distillation of equations for free will. I call it ‘Laughter in the Dark,’” said the professor, proudly smoothing back his slick black hair.

Dex couldn’t help but smile. “You’re a malicious crackpot, but okay, let’s get on with it. What’s the deal this time?”

“Mondrian is, right at this moment, upstairs, on the third floor, in Sizzle Parlor number four, awaiting a female associate of mine who has promised him exotic favors, but unfortunately will never deliver. Instead, you will arrive. I want him dead.” Killheffer hurriedly tamped out his cigar and snapped his fingers to the passing cigarette girl. She stopped next to Dex and opened the case that hung by a strap around her shoulders. There were no cigarettes, just something covered by a handkerchief.

“You think of everything,” said Dex and reached in to grab the gun. He stood and slipped it into the waist of his pants. “How do I collect?”

“The cure will be delivered before the night is through,” said the professor. “Hurry, Mondrian can only forgo his beloved tips for so long.”

“What do you have against him?” Dex asked as he lifted his hat off the chair beside him.

“He’s a computational loop,” said Killheffer. “A real zero-sum game.”

At the head of the long, dark hallway on the third floor of the pavilion, Dex was stopped by the night man, an imposing fellow with a bald head and a sawed-off shotgun in his left hand.

“What’s news, Jeminy?” said Dex.

“Obviously, you are, Dex. Looking for a room?”

He nodded.

“Ten dollars. But for you, for old times’ sake, ten dollars,” said Jeminy and laughed.

“You’re too good to me,” said Dex, a ten spot appearing in his hand. “The lady’ll be along any minute.”

“Sizzle Parlor number five,” the big man said, his voice echoing down the long hall. “Grease that griddle, my friend.”

“Will do,” said Dex and before long slowed his pace and looked over his shoulder to check that Jeminy had again taken his seat facing away, toward the stairwell. He passed door after door, and after every six a weak gas lamp glowed on either wall. As he neared parlor number four, he noticed the door was open a sliver, but it was dark inside. Brandishing the gun, he held it straight up in front of him.