Stories: All-New Tales

“He whispered from the other stall that he wanted me to kill Mondrian. I said I wouldn’t, but then he said he had the solution and was willing to trade me for the murder. I told him I wanted to see it. The next thing, the door to my stall flew open and he was standing there. I almost screamed. I didn’t know what to do. I was on the toilet, for criminy sake. He had that stupid smile on his face, and he pulled down his zipper.”

Dex rose to one elbow. “I’ll kill him,” he said.

“Too late,” said Adeline. “He reached into his pants and pulled out this big hypodermic needle with green juice in it. He said, ‘You see the tip at the end of that needle? Think of that as the period at the end of your interminable story. Do you want out?’ I just wanted to get rid of him, so I nodded. He handed me a gun and told me Mondrian was in Sizzle Parlor number four.”

A long time passed in silence.

“But, in the end, you decided to off Mondrian?” said Dex.

“I guess so,” said Adeline. “What else is there to do when we come to the Ice Garden but fall in with Killheffer’s scheme? Mondrian might as well be made of papier-mâché and that’s the long and short of it. He’s polite, but, sure, I’d clip him for the possibility of a ticket out.”

“I’d miss you,” said Dex.

“I wouldn’t leave you here alone,” she said. “I was getting the needle for you.”

“You didn’t think of using it yourself? Baby, I’m touched.”

“Well, maybe once when I realized that if it worked, you wouldn’t come for me anymore and I’d spend each go-round in that crappy apartment building back in dragsville watching the plaster crack.”

“I was ready to blow Mondrian’s brains out for you too,” he said. “I can see how stale it’s getting for you.”

“You never thought of yourself?” she asked.

Dex sat up and pointed into the distance at a pair of headlights. “Let’s get the guns,” he said. He stood and helped her up. She found her underwear a few feet away and slipped them back on.

“Who do you think it is?” she asked, joining him at the car.

He handed her a pistol. “Ice Garden thugs,” he said.

When the approaching car came to a halt a few feet from the blanket, Dex reached over the side of the Belvedere and hit the lights, to reveal a very old black car, more like a covered carriage with a steering wheel and no horse. The door opened and out stepped Mondrian. He carried an open umbrella and a small box. Taking three furtive steps forward, he called out, “Mr. Dexter.”

“Expecting rain, Mondrian?” said Dex.

“Stars, sir. Stars.”

Adeline laughed from where she was crouched behind the Belvedere.

“A package for the lady and gentleman,” said Mondrian.

“Set it down at your feet, right there, and then you can go,” said Dex.

Mondrian set the package on the sand, but remained standing at attention over it.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Dex.

Mondrian was silent, but Adeline whispered, “He wants a tip.”

Dex fired two shots into the umbrella. “Keep the change,” he called.

Mondrian bowed, said, “Most generous, sir,” and then got back in the car. As the maitre d’ pulled away, Adeline retrieved the package. Dex met her back on the blanket where she sat with the box, an eight-inch cube wrapped in silver paper and a red bow, like a birthday present, on her lap.

“It could be a bomb,” he said.

She hesitated for an instant, and said, “Oh, well,” and tore the wrapping off. Digging her nails into the seam between the cardboard flaps, she pulled back on both sides, ripping the top away. She reached in and retrieved Killheffer’s hypodermic needle. She put her hand back into the box and felt around.

“There’s only one,” she said.

“Now you know what his game is,” said Dex.

She held it up in the moonlight, and the green liquid inside its glass syringe glowed. “It’s beautiful,” she said with a sigh.

“Do it,” said Dex.

“No, you,” she said and handed it to him.

He reached for it, but then stopped, his fingers grazing the metal plunger. “No,” he said and shook his head. “It was your shot.”

“It probably won’t even work,” she said and laid it carefully on the blanket between them, petting it twice before withdrawing her hand.

“We’ll shoot dice,” said Dex, running his pinky finger the length of the needle. “The winner takes it.”

Adeline said nothing for a time, and then she nodded in agreement. “But first a last dance in case it works.”

Dex got up and went to the car to turn the radio up. “We’re in luck,” he said, and the first notes of “Polka Dots and Moonbeams” drifted out into the desert. He slowly swayed his way back to her. She smoothed her dress, adjusted her girdle, and put her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. He held her around the waist and they turned slowly, wearily, to the music.

“So, we’ll shoot craps?” she whispered.

“That’s right,” he said.

Three slow turns later, Adeline said, “Don’t think I don’t remember you’ve got that set of loaded dice.”