Stories: All-New Tales

Opening the door, he slipped inside, and shut it quietly behind him. Moonlight shone in through one tall, arched window, but Dex could only make out shadows. He scanned the room, and slowly the forms of chairs, a coffee table, a vanity, and, off to the side of the room, a bed became evident to him. Sitting up on the edge of that bed was a lumpen silhouette, atop it, the telltale shape of the fez.

“Is it you, my desert flower?” came the voice of Mondrian.

Dex swiftly crossed the room. When he was next to the figure, and had surmised where his victim’s left temple might be, he cocked the gun’s hammer with his thumb and wrapped his index finger around the trigger. Before he could squeeze off the shot, though, the slouched bag of shadow that was Mondrian lunged into him with terrific force. Dex, utterly surprised that the meek little fellow would have the gumption to attack, fell backward, tripping on the rug, the gun flying off into the dark. He tried to get to his feet, but the maitre d’ landed on him like nine sandbags, one hand grabbing his throat. No matter how many times Dex managed a punch to Mondrian’s face, the shadow of the fez never toppled away. They rolled over and over and then partially into the moonlight. Dex saw the flash of a blade above him, but his arms were now pinned by his assailant’s knees. Unable to halt the knife’s descent, he held his breath in preparation for pain. Then the lights went on, there was a gunshot, and his attacker fell off him.

Dex scrabbled to his feet and turned to find Adeline, standing next to the open door, the muzzle of the gun still smoking. From down the hall, he heard Jeminy blow his whistle, an alert to the Ice Garden’s force of leg breakers.

“Nice shot, baby,” he said. “Kill the lights and close the door.”

She closed the door behind her, but didn’t flip the switch. “Look,” she said to Dex, pointing with the gun at the floor behind him. He turned and saw the hundred-tooth smile of Killheffer. The fez was secured around the professor’s chin by a rubber band. A bullet had left a gaping third eye in his forehead.

“The rat fuck,” said Dex. He leaned over, grabbed his hat where it had fallen, and then felt through Killheffer’s jacket pockets. All he came up with was a cigar tube, holding a single Wrath Majestic. He slipped it into his inside jacket pocket.

“They’re coming,” said Adeline. She hit the lights. There was the sound of running feet and voices in the hallway. “They’re going door-to-door.”

“We’ll shoot our way out,” said Dex.

Adeline was next to him. She whispered in his ear, “Don’t be a jackass, we’ll take the fire escape.”

Dex moved toward the window. Adeline slipped off her heels.

Somehow Mondrian had known to call the car up, because when Dex and Adeline arrived in front of the Ice Garden, breathless, scuff marks on their clothes, the Belvedere was there, top down and running, Jim-Jim holding Adeline’s door.

“I like your shoes,” said the boy, pointing to her bare feet.

“My new fashion, Jim,” said Adeline.

Dex moved quickly around the car. Mondrian was there to open the door for him. As Dex slid in behind the wheel, he said, “No hard feelings about tonight,” and flashed a tip to cover the intended homicide. Mondrian bowed slightly and snatched the bill.

“Ever at your service,” said the maitre d’. “Safe journey.” He shut the car door.

Dex took a silver dollar out of his pocket, hit the gas, and flipped the coin back over the car. Jim-Jim caught it and before he could stash it in his vest pocket, the Belvedere was no more than two red dots halfway down the avenue of monkey-puzzle trees.

“My feet are killing me,” said Adeline as they screeched out of the entrance to the Ice Garden and onto the desert highway.

“You are one hell of a shot,” he said.

“Lucky,” she said, her voice rising above the wind.

“I’ll cherish the moment.”

“All well and good,” said Adeline, “but what’s his game this time?”

“Laughter in the dark,” said Dex and cut the wheel hard to the right. Adeline slid toward him and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The car left the road and raced along an avenue of moonlight, plowing through tumbleweeds, trailing a plume of dust across the desert. Adeline switched on the radio and found Dete Walader, crooning “I Remember You.”

They lay on a blanket beneath shimmering stars. A light breeze blew over them. Here and there, the dark form of a cactus stood sentry. Ten yards away, the radio in the Belvedere played something with strings. Adeline took a sip from her silver flask and handed it to Dex. He flicked the butt of the Majestic off into the sand, and took a drink.

“What is this stuff?” he asked, squinting.

“My own special mixture of oblivion,” she said.

“That’s Killheffer’s line,” he said. “Did you see him tonight?”

She nodded and laid her cheek against his chest. “In the ladies’ room; he was in the stall next to the one I chose, waiting for me.”

“He gets around,” said Dex, “’cause he was at our table when I got back to it.”