Chapter Ten: Come A Little Bit Closer.

The sky above Freya Drive was a gray flap of corduroy. Droplets of water fell from the sky or were suspended in the air based on some strange casino logic. Despite the dismal weather, there were still people going about their day. The street was busy. The shops and cafes and strange buildings were all full of people.

Martin itched in his new suit. Otto Cherry had insisted on a change of clothes now that Martin was his employee. The suit was a sort of no-color grayish color. Like the drab sky. Slacks and shoes and vest and shirt and coat and hat. Already, all of these new articles of clothing had taken on a rumpled appearance. The shirt was untucked and flapped beneath the vest. The shoes didn't shine like they did when he first put them on. And the fedora hat, that he felt a little silly wearing, perched on his head like a squat bird. But he didn't take the hat off though, in a way, it was sort of the perfect addition to his rumpled appearance. It's like my X-men power, Martin thought, making clothes look rumpled and old.

Martin had ditched the grayish coat in the taxi that had tried to bring him to Freya Drive. After the fifth pass, where the confused cabbie cursed at him in Nigerian, saying that there was no such street, Martin directed him to where he'd parked his boxy little car the night before. Having no money to tip the cabbie, he decided to leave him new coat. The green trench coat is heavy enough, he thought.

There was a neon green envelope on the windshield of his car. A parking ticket. Martin stuffed it into one of the trenchcoat's many pockets. He felt his hand brush the plastic surface of the Tic-Tac box.Nothing seemed dire yet, so his left the Tic-Tac box where it was, along side the ticket and made his way to Freya Drive.

Now that he could see the street on a busy Saturday, he found himself picking out certain people making their way along the street. A couple holding hands. A man jogging. A woman pushing a stroller, making funny faces at her baby. Martin couldn't be sure how he knew but he knew that these people were tourists. Ask them tomorrow, he thought, and they'll either not remember where they walked or they won't remember how to get back here. Maybe young love, a runner's high, and the distraction of a newborn were three keys into the lock? But how can I tell they don't belong, Martin thought as he made his way to the alleyway and The Shining Wire. He wasn't sure that he liked the fact that he could tell.

As Martin came to The Shining Wire's entrance, he was confronted by the same doorman. Dark glasses. Asian. Ageless.

"Sorry, the princess is in another castle."

"Sorry, Mister Hollys, but that was the previous pass phrase. It's no longer any good. "

"What? It's stale?"

"Afraid so."

"Well, I need to speak with Miss Fiver about a few things."

"Afraid that's not possible at this time."

"It will only take a moment of her time."

"Afraid her time is too valuble to disturb."

Martin felt his itchy new clothes. He felt his feet in the steel toed shoes Otto Cherry had picked for him. He let himself feel how much his toes were pinched and he let himself think about how comfortable his Converse sneakers were. And he felt the green trenchcoat. How heavy it was. He let himself pretend he could feel the invisble symbols tethered to the coat. He raised his left hand and formed a pistol with it. His bandaged index and middle fingers made the barrel of that pistol seem both thick and slightly crooked.

"Afraid I must insist."

Martin couldn't tell what the doorman's eyes were doing behind his smoked glasses but his mouth smirked. Martin was sick of seeing smirks on people's mouths.

"Sorry, but I doubt very much if that will even work. Maybe you say, 'Bang' and just blow off your two fingers."

"Maybe. But then I'd be maimed enough to come work here and maybe that would make me your boss one day."

The smirk started to edge back towards a smile. But Martin noticed a bead of sweat peer out from the doorman's hairline.

"Perhaps, Mister Hollys."

"Now unless behind those sunglasses you're missing an eye or two, I don't see your deformity. But I'm guessing that if I were aiming at your crotch instead of your head, you'd be less worried than you are right now. So, yeah, this might not work, and I'm down two fingers and I ask for an application...or it does work and it puts a magic bullet between your eyes. I'm willing to risk that. How about you?"

The smirk was gone and the smile left with it and Martin was pleased to see the little bead of sweat creep out of the doorman's hairline and glide down the side of his face. The doorman reached behind him and, without taking his eyes off Martin, opened the door to The Shining Wire. As Martin passed him, the doorman touched his arm.

"The next time you point that at someone, don't wait so long to say, 'Bang', in the time it took you to threaten me, somebody else might have killed you ten times over."

"I'll take that under advisement. Thank you."

"Welcome to The Shining Wire, Mister Hollys."

The wall of television screens were all black. There were a few people at the bar, prepping for the night ot come. A few people sitting at booths, still enjoying the previous evening. At a small table near the stage sat Cassandra Fiver, surrounded by her goons. Her back was to him, she was facing the stage.

When Marwan happened to look up and see Martin, his face went a dangerous white that matched his dead eye. He tapped both Red Sturges and Cairo on the shoulders. They made their way towards Martin, a filmy eyed, baby armed, hairlipped wall. Before they could converge on Martin a voice called from the other side of that wall. Cassandra's voice.

"Let the factotum through, even if he is a gatecrasher this time. It's not every day that I get to chat with someone who has escaped not only the clutches of Butch Pierce but also Otto Cherry."

Marwan and the others parted. Martin felt a childish thrill as he made sure to heavily bump shoulders with Marwan as he passed. Cassandra had changed into a pearly white dress that revealed her shoulders. As Martin walked around the table to face her, he couldn't help watching the shadows play across her shoulderblades, they were very winged. He could also count her vertebrae, several prominent points along the marble of her skin. Her chocolate colored hair was held up in a gauzy net of pearls and lace and bright garnets. Martin sat down across from her. She was smoking a cigarette. in a long cigarette holder. Of course, Martin thought.

On the small table was a deck of Tarot cards. They were spread out in patterns and groupings that meant nothing to Martin. There was also an empty martini glass. Cassandra looked up from the confusing mess of the cards and fixed her strange purple-black eyes on Martin.

"Claude Rains. My boys just love it that I'm all shook up for you."

"That's nice to hear."

"Who's your tailor?"

"Otto Cherry's private collection. Except for a coat I left with a cabbie."

"No doubt that cabbie will wreck his taxi by the end of the day."

"I hope that's not true but maybe it will be true."

"How wonderfully diplomatic of you, Claude."

"I need to ask you a favor."

Cassandra smiled a pouty smile and Martin had a very clear image in his head of biting her lower lip and hanging off of it for days. She shifted forward, bringing her face closer to Martin's. Swirls of smoke made blue gray halos around her.

"I hope this favor has something to do with retiring up to my private office."

"In fact, it does."

"Aren't you the bold little scamp."

"Fortune favors the bold."

"You should write fortune cookies."

"I hate the taste of fortune cookies."

"Aha! See, even that would be a funny fortune for a fortune cookie."

"Well, if you go into the business of making fortune cookies, you can have it for free, so can we go up to your office now?"

"Not so quick, Claude, what are we gonna do up there? You don't have to be too vulgar but a little vulgar is kinda nice."

"I need to speak with that couple up there. The ones in the gas masks."

Cassandra pulled back over to her side of the table. The cigarette holder was held in the corner of her mouth and she chewed on it for a second. Her eyes narrowed. If she'd had a tail, it would have been flicking back and forth.

"Why?"

"Because Butch Pierce wanted to take them. Because they might be able to tell me where Cherry's daughter is."

"So it's 'Claude Rains And The Case Of The Missing Daughter' now? I thougth you were more interested in the Lolas' little femme factotum. You are even more fickle than I am."

"To help one I've gotta find the other. And Pierce wanted those two up in your office. I don't want to take them, just talk to them."

"Okay. You get your interview if I get something from you."

Martin felt his face go flush and his tongue suddenly seemed too thick for his mouth. Cassandra laughed. That made Martin feel even sillier.

"Oh, no, not that, Detective Rains, but close...you do go the most interesting shade of pink. Do you sing?"

"No."

"Not even in the shower?"

"No."

"Well, then, perfect, I would like for you to sing something for me. Anything you like. Up there, on the stage. For my staff and the few remaining patrons. I would like a little of your embarrassment, please. Then you can go and chat with Gail's little art project upstairs."

"What...what should I sing?"

"Detective's choice."

Martin got up from the table and made his way over to the steps that led up to the little stage. It was clustered with instruments and cables and equipment. He made his way to the microphone in the center of the stage. The lights in his eyes made him feel off balance and weak in the knees. He could see Marwan and the other goons out in the little crowd. In fact, more and more people seemed to be appearing out of nowhere. They seemed to be crawling out from under tables and carpets and cracks in the walls. Suddenly, the club looked as busy and loud as it had been the night before. Colored light danced in his face and the smell of smoke burned his throat. The wall of televisions clicked on and he saw himself repeated dozens of times from different angles.

"My...umm...my Mom use to sing this while she cleaned"

And in an off key voice, Martin began to sing. His stomach was cramped and he felt like he could hear every smirking voice in the crowd. He closed his eyes and thought of his Mom, singing in her own off key voice. A voice that was drowned out by the vacuum cleaner she was dancing with. Martin tried to think of the Spanish sounding trumpets that should go along with the song.

"In a little cafe just the other side of the border
She was just sitting there givin' me looks that made my mouth water
So I started walking her way
She belonged to Bad Man Jose
And I knew, yes I knew I should leave
When I heard her say, yeah

Come a little bit closer
You're my kind of man
So big and so strong
Come a little bit closer
I'm all alone
And the night is so long

So we started to dance
In my arms, she felt so inviting
That I just couldn't resist
Just one little kiss so exciting
Then I heard the guitar player say
"Vamoose, Jose's on his way"
Then I knew, yes I knew I should run
But then I heard her say, yeah

Come a little bit closer
You're my kind of man
So big and so strong
Come a little bit closer
I'm all alone
And the night is so long

Then the music stopped
When I looked the cafe was empty
Then I heard Jose say
"Man you know you're in trouble plenty"
So I dropped my drink from my hand
And through the window I ran
And as I rode away
I could hear her say to Jose, yeah

Come a little bit closer
You're my kind of man
So big and so strong
Come a little bit closer
I'm all alone
And the night is so long

La la-la-la la-la
La la-la-la la-la"

Martin waited a minute. Two. Three, before he opened his eyes. The club was sparse again, a few patrons. Some watching him, others going about their own conversations. The bartender and waitresses were clapping politely. Red Sturges and Cairo were whistling. Marwan was clapping in a slow, sarcastic manner. Martin looked to the foot of the stage at Cassandra. She was looking at him win a calculating way, as if columns of numbers were being tallied and subtracted and multiplied above his head. She gestured with her cigarette holder for him to join her at her table.

As Martin sat down, Cassandra collected all of the Tarot cards on the table. Her martini glass was now full of a rosy colored liquid, she drank it in one shot. Then she ran a finger around inside the glass to pick up any stray moisture and sucked the liquid from her finger. She passed the Tarot deck to Martin.

"Shuffle"

Martin shuffled and passed the deck back to her. She let her fingers graze along the back of the topmost card, then she gave the deck a quick shuffle and passed it back to Martin.

"Cut the deck."

Martin cut the deck and slid the cards back over to Cassandra.

"This deck is missing a single card...I gave it to a friend as gift of sorts, as a reminder."

A memory sparked in Martin's mind. A lone Tarot card at Wants & Getz.

"Lola Wants."

Cassandra paused a moment in the five card pattern she was placing on the table and nodded. The five cards were arranged in their pentagram shape. She flipped over the first one. A figure in a green motley costume walked along, an odd squid-like creature trailing along at his feet.

"The Fool. He better learn quick how things work."

She flipped the next card. A dark cityscape was illuminated by a fat, heavy moon.

"The Night. A difficult place to walk, full of tricks and backstabbers and shots-in-the-dark."

She flipped the next card. From where Martin sat the card looked right side up but from Cassandra's perspective it was upside down. On it was a tall Ferris Wheel, riding up one side was a happy smiling man, on the other side was a man falling from the carriage, his face a silent scream.

"The Wheel Of Fortune Inverted. Things coming to an end, the absence of good luck."

She flipped the fourth card. A strange woman looked out from the card's depths. She had dark skin and a shock of white-blonde hair, her hands were smeared with many colors of paint, in the background of the card were unfinished statues and wet paint brushes.

"The Empress. A creator, a womb. Demeter to give or hold back the seasons."

Cassandra's hand hovered over the last card. When she finally picked it up, instead of turning it over, she neatly folded in half, and stuck it in one of Martin's pockets. At Martin's look, she smiled her pouty smile.

" You'll want to look at that one later. When everything is said and done. Let's go get you that interview, Claude."

They went up the spiral staircase into her triangular office. The Mae West's Lips couch still occupied its spot at the apex of the triangle. But the couple lay sprawled across the floor, the man's mask pulled up enough to let Martin see the white foam that choked him. The girl was in worse shape, a huge knife pierced her chest. There was a scrawl of bloody paint that read: JUST LIKE ROMEO AND JULIET BY GAIL ALICE. Martin stooped down at their side, looking for the strange little brand. Yes, there on the man's forearm and on the girl's calf. A spidery tree with one leaf. Just like Lucifer Beard's little gang. These two were either members of the gang who earned the brand, or enemies who'd been marked by it. Lucifer Beard and his cronies might know where Cherry's daughter is, Martin thought.

"After Butch Pierce carted you off, Gail gate crashed her way up here and 'updated' her work. They wouldn't have been must good to you anyway, you were too busy waving your toy pistol around to hear but I told Butch that Gail glammed these two within an inch of their lives."

Martin sighed and shrugged and started to stand but he stumbled a bit. Hope that looked real, he thought. It must have because Cassandra's hand shot out to steady him and Martin held her arm with his right hand. He gripped her wrist. Hard.

"That's fine because I didn't really come up here to talk to them. I came up here because you are going to give me the vial with Otto Cherry's Unused Thought."

Again, Martin felt a molten warmth spread from his stomach and travel down his arm to Cassandra. She arched her back and shuddered but Martin held her against the shockwave the rippled through her. When she looked back up at him, he could see a thousand little raptures in her purple-black eyes as the Lolas' gift ripped through her defenses. His hand itched more than his new suit. Another petal gone.

"And why should I do that?"

You'll do it because you don't have a choice, Martin thought. But he wasn't that cruel. Time to roll the dice.

"Because Wonderly wouldn't buy it and there's nobody else to sell it to."

"So, what, I just give it to you and you give it back to Cherry, wrapped up with his daughter, no doubt."

The defiance in her voice was feigned. She was just stalling. Martin had to cut through all these games within games.

"No, you give it to me and I going to use it against Cherry. To kill him, if I can."

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What's this, gentle readers? Who is this new and improved knight-errant, Martin Hollys....bold, sly, and maybe with a few plans of his own???

Find out what some of them are in our next installment:

Chapter Eleven: The Royal Army Of Oz