MD_sf_01.34

<p>
	<span style="font-size:20px;" rel="font-size:20px;">Chapter Thirty-Four<br>
	</span><span style="font-size:20px;" rel="font-size:20px;">Money Matters</span>
</p>

<p>
<em>Trust is the basis of every law. For a time, perhaps that of one’s life and one’s children, behavior is molded and stamped like machined parts. There are flawed pieces and I am one. Strangely, those are often the ones enforcing trust within and outside the law.<br>
</em><em>Why? It’s the small flaws that are the most dangerous to society’s order. Uncovering them takes the most time. But the world before the Plague also used to say that time is money, and the bankers still have a term called arbitrage. Money pays for trust.<br>
</em><em>-Ned Mahoney's handwritten journals, dated 2168.03.22, found among the personal effects of Christina Marlowe</em>
</p>

<p>To my surprise, Berrymount had followed directions. He answered the phone call to his office and must have made the best excuse ever to his bosses. Thirty minutes later, I was starting up the stairs to the Creeson & Ellis lobby, as clean as I’d get without a long shower and in that perfect space just after a spear of sunlight from a window turns to shade.</p>

<p>“Marlowe, please stop,” he called out, pushing through the crowd.</p>

<p>I did, and still had to look up despite the difference of two stairs’ height. The guy had some nerve using the same tone as with a quarter-dollar dancer. And after last night, one that had changed his mind yet again and wanted another song. His fault for flipping the script.</p>

<p>“Why?” I asked.</p>

<p>The question pushed him up a step and the small muscles of his neck twitched. I glanced, but didn’t even need to know how hard his hand squeezed the rail. “I cannot believe what you suspect—”</p>

<p>“Until I have the kind of answers that buy me my life back, everything I haven’t ruled out is possible.”</p>

<p>Unvoiced words worked his mouth, then he asked, “And that means?”</p>

<p>“I’ve been all over the city since you walked into my office. I’ve nearly been killed and lost count on that one,” I replied. “If you’re asking, the only reason I’m still alive, aside from my talents, is that the people trying to kill me had five other problems waiting. So unless you have enough for me to toss to the cops, we’re going to sort out matters before everyone that isn’t the cops shows up at the door.</p>

<p>“You told the detective yesterday about what we found.”</p>

<p>“And whoever owns those hunks of copper has had half a day to figure out that they’re not as secret as they wish. If I didn’t have other stops this morning, I’d have been here before sunrise. No more delays.”</p>

<p>“I deserve an explanation,” he asked, not following as I turned.</p>

<p>Over my shoulder, I said, “You’ll get it upstairs.”</p>

<p>“I’ll make the call to the cops myself.”</p>

<p>This was the same man that seemed and smelled infatuated with me? Right. “A half-hour after they dragged me in, I’d be walking out. You? The choice is a box of an interview room as a key witness, or a jail cell until a judge figures out what to make of this mess.” My tail flicked as I turned back, and I added, “I’m more likely to get paid for this case if you’re out here, so excuse me being pushy for professional reasons.”</p>

<p>“A small explanation then, one that I can understand?”</p>

<p>I sighed and set aside my last memories of Dickie. “There’s a concept burnt into the ITC that existed way before it. You’re not supposed to play both sides of the game. A sweetheart deal is just one way to get around that problem. Two people each do half the deed and get more than they would normally. But you see, it’s like murder. Do it once, why not do it twice or more?”</p>

<p>“Yesterday?” he asked, quieter.</p>

<p>I squinted and said, “This case, this game, cost me one of the last people I’d known for years and thought trustworthy.”</p>

<p>“His blood—”</p>

<p>“Was his own.”</p>

<p>“Do you blame me?”</p>

<p>“In part, yes.”</p>

<p>What Berrymount had seen in his life, perhaps in the the military training he’d almost certainly had, provided not a single lesson of the effects of action. A barely seen widening of the eyes—I had to assume that he’d fired a gun and seen paper rip apart. About the same thickness, I thought.</p>

<p>In a whisper, he finally said, “After how you’ve behaved, I can’t believe you capable of love or regret.”</p>

<p>“Maybe you’re right. Changing my mind or ways isn’t easy, unlike how you’ve done with me. But,” I said as I flicked my wallet, nearly empty of cash, open, “You said it yourself. Solvency.” I had to stop Berrymount a few more times to get the big story across. “Along the way, I dug up more than a few secrets. I love a man that gives me presents like that. If you can stand the sight and smell of me, you’re going to play a part that seals the deal with a kiss.</p>

<p>Berrymount flinched as I reached up. Damned man. I grabbed his tie and dragged him a step closer, patting him on the cheek with a vixie grin. If he didn’t smell the sackcloth inside my jacket, I’d show him the box score later. Much later, when the players settled into the next act.</p>

<p>I turned my hand and wrapped more of Berrymount’s tie around my gloved fist, then said, “Your bosses don’t have to lose big like Louis Tierney. They should have made a call the other day and grinned with the evidence still on their lips.”</p>

<p>He pulled away, shoe heel cracking on the stairstep. The busy lobby ate it. “I will not stand for this!”</p>

<p>Sorry, Berrymount, but you hired me to play tough. I said, “And I’m not arresting anyone. They can tell me what they know. Got it? Or do you want unexpected break-ins each time a building fits a third party’s need?”</p>

<p>“Then who?” he asked with his fists shaking at his side.</p>

<p>“Watch and learn,” I said, and then took the steps up, two at a time.</p>

<p>Lucille’s eyes went wide as I sidestepped her desk again, Berrymount like stormclouds in my wake. I knew the way down. Risky move on my part. No one except Dickie and Jones knew I had the blueprints or the guns would have come out sooner. Certainly wouldn’t have left The Warren alive. Like Dickie, only takes one bullet to sleep a man forever.</p>

<p>The sight of little old me was enough to end the conversation between the two architects as I walked in on them. One stout and one narrow, each looked to me with mouths agape.</p>

<p>“Morning, gentlemen. Let’s get comfortable,” I said.</p>

<p>Going by the paused footsteps from the staircase, Berrymount had put distance between us. Ellis fished out his monocle, adding up the scene like a broke accountant.</p>

<p>He asked, “Ms. Marlowe, was it? Is there some reason—”</p>

<p>“I haven’t recovered your stolen blueprints yet. But the two of you could help me greatly, and I won’t even need my notebook. Which office?” I gestured between the two, then started toward Creeson’s door. “You too, Berrymount. Best to air out matters as a group.”</p>

<p>I waited until my client had unrooted himself and shuffled into the office. The door clicked with the satisfying exactness of a revolver hammer.</p>

<p>This time the outside light was on my left, and Creeson pressed a single button under his desk to drop the blinds. No candy dish or jar on his desk, I noticed. Not everyone treated sweets like I did tobacco, and some didn’t have the metabolism. Or maybe they had other vices. Only three chairs. Creeson took his larger one, leaving Ellis and Berrymount side by side.</p>

<p>I sighed and popped a coffin nail out of the pack. Damned thing had taken a good crush from the explosion in the Unrestored.</p>

<p>“Anyone has a light? I’m losing lighters almost as fast as hats,” I said.</p>

<p>Berrymount didn’t. Ellis withdrew a wedge of brushed steel with an unsteady hand and struck the flint three times before I got a flame.</p>

<p>He sat back and I said, “Thanks. One of those mornings, you know? Amazing what happens when the count tightens, so we’ll ignore my less than perfect appearance if there’s gratitude for dealing with the cats that damaged your front door the other evening.” Absolutely nothing.</p>

<p>Creeson said, “Nathaniel, can you educate us both on why this woman has returned? I assume you know more than us,” then grumbled when Berrymount admitted he was just as lost.</p>

<p>“Anyone here know Harry Dolman?” I waited. “No? Strange, because he was one of the biggest confectioners in the city. But I was informed in advance. The firm of Creeson & Ellis does not design factories.”</p>

<p>The architects stared back. Berrymount, too. Clue one: they read the broadsheets.</p>

<p>I continued, “I doubt either of you would have had a stake in Dolman’s expansion. But a careful man could pay for a plush sedan if he agreed to draw the best blueprints money could buy, all for a few large spaces here and there. Don’t forget the utilities either.” Their eyes followed my wagging finger. I blew smoke and leaned in toward Ellis first, then repeated with Creeson. “Architects are like priests. They have a wealth of secrets. My bet was the two of you didn’t have any deadly ones. Until recently.”</p>

<p>Ellis crossed his arms and huffed whiskers he didn’t have. “And I took the liberty of asking more polite society about you, Ms. Marlowe. It seems you are less than a proper lady, same as your usual company.”</p>

<p>I took a bow and said, “I fear the integrity of the buildings designed by this firm if my appearance wasn’t enough clue. Likewise, the morals of someone in this office.” With a quick step, I was at Ellis’ side. I pulled his monocle and handkerchief, then mimed a spit polish. “Ohh, so everyone’s soul is priestly clean? How about the bank accounts or personal vices? Everyone has a handle. Willing to go to jail because someone grabbed yours?”</p>

<p>He snatched his monocle back and said to Berrymount, “Take a good look, Nathaniel. Find yourself the opposite of this, or she will wrap you up in shadowy schemes.”</p>

<p>“Hardly,” I said and slouched over Ellis’ shoulder. “My business is uncovering plots, not being a spider. I’ll admit my accounts are a bit thin right now, but I’m your only chance. To make the decision easy, my services about the issue of your blueprints are free.” Didn’t get a reaction, so I went to the narrow window and twitched the drapes. “Since you asked around, remember that I’m tiny money compared to Dolman.”</p>

<p>Creeson steepled his fingers and said, “Which is why trust is important. Your Mr. Dolman must have forgotten that greed debits a man’s word. Or you are simply repeating bits of rumors.”</p>

<p>Clue two: Ellis had been fielding until now. Without smashed doors to remind him, Creeson grew a spine.</p>

<p>I paced the outer edge of the room and kept my focus on the architects. “Funny thing about Dolman was that everywhere I looked, the money never made sense. Now, what about your latest projects? Maybe you were convinced to invest back into them. Anyone here a betting man?” I mimed a batter’s stance and watched Creeson. “It’s only illegal outside of business—”</p>

<p>“Stop,” Ellis said. “You harassed me yesterday, and I’ve known my partner for more years than my wife.” He removed his monocle and a handkerchief, polishing the former. “Could we be misled? Impossible to remove the chance, but we have never knowingly signed contracts with men of low character or morals. Take Nathaniel here. He is still young. He will make errors of judgment. But like his father before him, I implicitly trust the results of his efforts.”</p>

<p>Berrymount withered under the words, and my brow furrowed. “Are you suggesting your associate received a call from this building the night of the break-in?” I asked both architects.</p>

<p>Creeson said, “You are the detective, Ms. Marlowe. Who did?”</p>

<p>With a twitch of my tail, I said, “The person that put a fortune in this vixie’s wallet a few nights back.”</p>

<p>I extracted it and Dickie’s card. Whether they read the name wasn’t important. The corner peeled away thanks to my earlier work. Each man looked at it, then his companions. They knew what it was, and argued over the amount of time to check their own aperture cards.</p>

<p>I interrupted, “Someone went down in Archives. They clipped this out. I know who got it out, but that’s it.” I nodded to Ellis and tucked Jones’ fee for my life back into my wallet. “I know how I got this, but not how the person that gave it to me did. He was playing both sides, a risky position I was warning Berrymount about of just a few minutes ago. But my broken link dealt me in and as a wild card. What I’ve got to do now is make sure you two don’t end up dead from this game.”</p>

<p>Ellis turned toward Berrymount. “How many times have I told you? Never consort with people like … her!” the older man yelled. Berrymount shrank further, but the discipline from school came back as Ellis went on. “You have been treated well here. We and your father have taught you better.”</p>

<p>“That is harsh, though true. Please, my boy, explain why you felt the need for this?” Creeson added. “I gave you good advice about unnecessary chances.”</p>

<p>Clue three: both men had something to lose today, and contradicted earlier statements.</p>

<p>I started with Creeson, “He did nothing except add one vital clue to another case I was on. And unlike the two of you, I go where the money takes me.” My whiskers tickled at Ellis’ cheek as I added, “Surprised me that your bank—mine as well—knew all about Dolman’s problems.”</p>

<p>“Which are not ours,” Creeson said.</p>

<p>“Of course not. Careful men cover their tracks when the game is neat. But when things get messy …”</p>

<p>Ellis pushed me away and said, “The only mess here is the pile of insinuations you are making—”</p>

<p>“Hmm? You,” I said to Ellis, “got the client. But you,” I said, switching to Creeson, “wanted it to be a test of Berrymount’s abilities. Which of you forgot to tell him about the stills in the lower basement?”</p>

<p>The architects stumbled over each others’ words until Berrymount’s stare dominated them. And for the first time, I saw what laid under his nervous energy and gentler nature. Perhaps his posture, steel-straight as he stood to loom better over the older men, wasn’t all he’d learned at the local academy.</p>

<p>He said, “I believe that, as of this moment, I am owed two things: an apology for my recent associations, and the sum of one hundred dollars. That is the amount I advanced Ms. Marlowe this past Tuesday evening.”</p>

<p>“Which is almost gone,” I said with a chuckle. “Usually, people don’t appreciate my laugh but forgive it when my services are discounted. Not all of them. The little history lesson you’re about to get? Three hundred.”</p>

<p>Silence again. I got up and went to the door at the first hint of footsteps. Not like anyone else in the room knew we had company or smelled the hint of dollar perfume. I hadn’t.</p>

<p>“Morning, Joss,” I said before the opening door revealed Dixon.</p>

<p>Medium tan today, and no garish colors favored by feminine thugs or the less neutral. Her ears were set back and in no mood for first names.</p>

<p>“Got my message?” I asked, and a furrowed eyebrow from the dark wolfess answered me. “Good. I appreciate it when Kayle is willing to lend a hand. Come in. Let me introduce you to a few people with some things to say.” I rattled off a list about the two architects faster than a streetcorner hawker, then moved on to Berrymount.</p>

<p>Cops train long hours to avoid emotion leaking through the gaskets of tail or ears. Dixon failed the chimera portion of the test. Made it more evident by doffing her hat. Her dark ears homed in on the creaking wood and leather of Berrymount’s chair, and her nose at the cold sweat seeping past his collar.</p>

<p>“So,” I concluded, “let’s get this streetcar loaded.”</p>

<p>Dixon brushed past with a huff after snatching my hat. At least this time it was only lost to the hatrack. Cheap price to spy Dixon staring down the older men.</p>

<p>Her credentials flipped out and she said in a clear alto, “Good morning, gentlemen. Detective Jocelyn Dixon of the Eighth Precinct and General Investigations, currently attached to Spirits Enforcement.”</p>

<p>Neither man showed any hints of guilt, just nervousness. Creeson stood and confronted Dixon, still the shorter by a half-dozen centimeters. “Good morning then, Detective. We will have a pleasant conversation, but only after you see this privateer of an investigator out of the building.”</p>

<p>Dixon shot her best tough girl glare my way. “On what grounds?”</p>

<p>“To start,” Creeson said, “she has freely admitted to illegal entry two evenings past.”</p>

<p>“And since?”</p>

<p>“This is the second, all grand emphasis intended, the second time she has trespassed into the non-public areas of this building and office.”</p>

<p>“That is troublesome,” Dixon said before confronting me.</p>

<p>One hit for her team by height, forced into a double play because she couldn’t glower properly in alto. Still, she had her uncle’s and the force’s pacing in her blood.</p>

<p>Dixon flicked her ears in the same pattern as wire code to let me know she wasn’t joking. “And on any other day, I fear that Captain Kayle would happily send a groundcar to rid you of Ms. Marlowe. Might still, after we’re done here.” I smiled back, ears jaunty. She continued, “One problem. No one called the first in.” She spun toward the men and paced. “And it seems there was no undue force here today.”</p>

<p>Berrymount piped up, “I confronted her on the stairs up to the lobby.”</p>

<p>“Of course you did,” Ellis said.</p>

<p>“Any other charges, gentlemen? Ms. Marlowe is a rather familiar face to the department and Enforcement. If you ask my temporary superiors, she’s an encyclopedia on every speakeasy and major bootlegging racket in the city. I don’t doubt upstanding men of your class can think of more complaints.”</p>

<p>“We shall after a thorough meeting with our attorneys,” Ellis said.</p>

<p>The wolfess removed a pen and notepad from an inside pocket and said, “I’ll save you the time. Ms. Marlowe, would you mind educating these men about Section 137? Almost a second home for you.”</p>

<p>Mahoney made me recite them like a schoolboy does for multiplication tables. Subsection one was definition. Fifth paragraph spends a page and a half of legalese about adulteration and what else divides a substance into fuels or non-fuels alcohols. Subsection two covered equipment, the third actionable offenses, the fourth licensing, and the fifth conspiracy. Quite useful, the last. The cops ignored it unless there was a white lightning chain of offense that crawled up the still plates to Subsection two. Any chance Dixon had of intimidating the architects rested in saying they should have known better.</p>

<p>The other morning I hadn’t managed to wiggle the money trail out of Ellis. Dixon would weep later about being strongarmed into witness cruelty.</p>

<p>“… and,” I concluded, “the case is concrete solid.” If their consortium of financiers wanted to use the lowest basement level of that block for fuels distillation, the paperwork would exist. Unofficial, signed with a handshake, and meant to do the same thing as the grains option—distract. “We should ring Archives. I’m positive a word from Dixon would cut the minimum processing time of three business days to three minutes. Can’t believe good businessmen would forget routine paperwork. It’s that, or they become material witnesses.”</p>

<p>“Sirs, please!” Berrymount begged as he rose from his chair. “This is what I was afraid of at the outset. The speed in which we took this on, the promise of certain money …”</p>

<p>The architects looked at each other, and I asked, “Who brought in the project?” Patted myself for my notebook, then said, “I’m having a fuzzy moment recalling if one of you said. Forgive me for knocking my head against fists.”</p>

<p>Ellis corrected his posture. “I did and reminded Ms. Marlowe of that earlier. Nothing unusual, Detective Dixon.” He flicked a glance at the door and added, “It is routine for bidding to be secret, both the act and amount. Only after winning would I meet a client representative.”</p>

<p>“That it is,” mused Dixon. “Are you the lead architect?”</p>

<p>“No. Berrymount is,” Ellis said with a broad smile and glance to my client, who sat with the slowness of chilled jelly.</p>

<p>“A nice pin for your tie,” Dixon said. “You thought him capable?”</p>

<p>“I most certainly did not.”</p>

<p>“Yet you seem happy now.”</p>

<p>“Because I was right. He is a skilled man, but not of the experience to work alone on a project of this scale.”</p>

<p>Creeson returned to his chair. “Yes. We must call immediately and show this was all a clerical error.” He dialed and spoke tersely. Dixon was asked to verify her presence and the importance. Once done, Creeson smiled and said to Ellis, “It seems that our clients forgot the entire matter of paperwork. Ms. Dixon’s generous aid on our behalf should be rewarded by her superiors and the city.”</p>

<p>“If you could repeat that to them, Mr. Creeson, I will leave.” She started for the door.</p>

<p>“Hold on. The money?” I asked the room. Dixon paused and turned on the ball of her right foot. “You aren’t getting paid until completion.”</p>

<p>“No,” Ellis admitted.</p>

<p>“So how would a failed project cost you?” I asked, hoping they thought of Dolman. “Permits are pulled, bids are selected. But if things are paid for, the deed is in the hands of the owner. If not, the banks own it.”</p>

<p>“City, actually,” corrected Dixon.</p>

<p>“Quite a conflict of interest. By the ITC, they can’t operate a business or own property that involves regulated goods. Double dealing, as I told these men. But they could sell the whole thing for a pretty sum at auction.”</p>

<p>“It would be a huge mess, Chris,” she replied, and I ignored the jab.</p>

<p>“I can believe it,” whispered Berrymount, then repeated himself and punched his open hand. “By Jesus and the sun above, I can believe it! The city created a sweetheart deal. Isn’t that what you called it, Marlowe? They suckered us into a wonderful opportunity, and when it comes time to pay we will be like beggars with hats in hand!”</p>

<p>The guy was slow on the play. Shot a glance over to Dixon, asking her to see the trouble I’d went through to pay the bills. Instead, she took in each of the men for a moment, then leaned back against the door. I followed her gaze across the room faster than a bullet.</p>

<p>Ellis had slid his partner’s phone over but needed to retrieve a calling card from his inside pocket before setting finger inside the dial. “Settle your excitement, Nathaniel. We will call the bank forthwith and prove to the women once again their grand ideas have no foundation.” His monocle flashed against the sunlight as it wobbled. “Yes. Creeson and Ellis. The latter speaking. I must talk with Mr. Camberlyn immediately … yes.”</p>

<p>He settled the receiver against his shoulder and polished his already clean monocle. I’d tired of listening to Uphill talk. Jones would have settled matters in a quarter of the words.</p>

<p>On the other hand, Berrymount tended to balance out Paddy McLaird in more ways than one. Without checking to see if both Creeson and Ellis were absorbed in the phone call—they were—before opening his mouth, he rose and grabbed Dixon’s hand. He pumped it up and down as he said, “Madam Detective, if my good word can help you in any way—”</p>

<p>“Is he always like this?” she asked me, which got Berrymount to let go of her gloved hand.</p>

<p>“Unfortunately,” I replied.</p>

<p>“Well, Mr. Berrymount, standard procedure is that parties of interest in a case must sit for a statement. My preference, given your position, is that you do so before anyone else.”</p>

<p>He stammered for a bit, then caught up to himself and asked, “My fear since the beginning of this has been jail. Will I?”</p>

<p>“Only if you commit assault and battery against Ms. Marlowe.”</p>

<p>“And the reverse?”</p>

<p>Dixon scratched under her muzzle, staring at the ceiling for a few moments before answering. “She does have a habit of being pushy around those she really hates or loves.” I tried to interrupt, but got a hand clamped around my muzzle as she continued, “But at her size, it shouldn’t hurt much. Apologize later and see where it leads.”</p>

<p>I mumbled about five kinds of untraceable vengeance before Dixon let me go. To his benefit, Berrymount decided it was a good time to tell his bosses about the change in his schedule today.</p>

<p>With a lean against Dixon, I said, “I’d say sorry about yesterday, except for what you just did.” By her glare, humor wasn’t welcome.</p>

<p>“And the day before that?”</p>

<p>“I’m making you look real sharp today,” I replied. Dixon’s hand said to think again. “While the fancy boys are flapping their tongues and not giving me a thrill, take the chance to call home.”</p>

<p>“This better be good.”</p>

<p>“Ready for a promotion, or are these two not enough? Have anyone available meet you at the Danwirth. Do not call City Hall. Do not call HQ. But once you’re there—”</p>

<p>“You want in?”</p>

<p>“No, I’m heading to Boss Jones to set the other side of this trap.”</p>

<p>Dixon went outside to call, and I whispered at Berrymount’s side, “Congratulations. Might be a few vacancies soon for sharp men. Downside is rubbing shoulders with high rollers like Jones.”</p>

<p>“You jest,” he said.</p>

<p>“Keep your ears forward and sharp. What’s taking Dixon—”</p>

<p>I know the sound of a hammer decocking. And footsteps. Many footsteps. The office door opened and Givens entered, a white suit today. A sneer rippled at the left side of his mouth as he slid the hat rack over to hold the door. Once done, he strode closer, waving behind.</p>

<p>He was followed by two bruisers with machine guns out, and beyond, I saw two more backing Dixon away from the secretary’s desk. Her shining six laid by the phone receiver until one of the thugs hung the latter up. The architects gaped at the scene. I didn’t. </p>

<p>“Marlowe,” Givens said. He unbuttoned my suit’s jacket and took my revolver. “Just here for business.” He cleared the cylinder, then handed everything back.</p>

<p>“I didn’t invite you,” I snapped at him.</p>

<p>He got in my face and nicked my wallet, then frowned when he saw how little was there. “We want our money. Isn’t here. I should have had you watched much closer,” he said and tucked my wallet back in my jacket.</p>

<p>“Strange place to look for it.” Or not.</p>

<p>Givens signaled one of his bruisers to take the architects into the workroom beyond, then said to me, “How much they cutting you in?”</p>

<p>“None, because no one here did anything to Tierney. Tell your boys to back off, or I could think of a few surprises.”</p>

<p>“You’ve been doing a wonderful grandstanding trot around the bases then, cleaning up your real client’s work.”</p>

<p>“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” The tick of Creeson’s clock wavered. “I swear. Listen to me. City Hall is running a squeeze. It sounds worse than feral cats, but Dolman was just unlucky. Someone else must have hit him. I’m not covering for anyone.” Except Jones.</p>

<p>“Right. Why did you head out to The Warren?”</p>

<p>“A lead,” I replied, trying to rise on my toes and level our heights.</p>

<p>Givens returned my words as a question, dropping after that into Creeson’s chair. He continued, “Or masquerading as delivery. Where were you just before then?” He peered from beneath his fedora, eyes the only thing catching the morning light.</p>

<p>“About to find out whether cats like the taste of raw meat,” I said.</p>

<p>“Good way to avoid suspicion if you’re running blueprints,” he said and lit a cigarette. “They seem to be this season’s popular commodity, and here I was thinking you weren’t batting on the same team as the cats.”</p>

<p>“They tried to shoot me, you sheared ape!” I shouted. Among other people, I added mentally.</p>

<p>Givens rose, herding me towards the door and his guys. “Price of doing business, Marlowe.”</p>

<p>I don’t like being picked up, dragged, or handled in any way like a sack of foodstuff. Rough-knuckled hands fell on either of my shoulders, and I gave over. At least they let me grab my hat.</p>

<p>Outside, the two that had been guarding Dixon flanked the stairwell, guns still on her. Should have listened to Hartgers and McLaird. Once I was in Tierney’s sights, no chance for the patience I got out of the less temperamental half-bison Jones.</p>

<p>I twitched an ear toward Dixon, then said, “Well, I’ve got a better idea, Givens. Lower the guns. Whoever ended up with Dolman’s money cuts you a stake and pays things off quietly.”</p>

<p>“It’s about principle,” Givens replied as he sat on the corner of one of the secretary’s desks, then added, “And you’ve got the whole matter backward.”</p>

<p>“Like hell. The cats got caught in Dolman’s wake as well. I did, you did, Jones did. Only way out is—”</p>

<p> “Tell it to Tierney in person. I’m staying here to get the truth out of your friends, then I should drop everyone alive with the cops. They might have a reward the size of what Dolman flitched from us.”</p>

<p>“Interesting,” Dixon said, attracting Givens’ attention. “Since you asked, I would prefer not telling Mr. Tierney—”</p>

<p>“Who are you, sweetie?” Givens asked.</p>

<p>“Detective Jocelyn Dixon of the Eighth Precinct and General Investigations, currently attached to Spirits Enforcement.” She waited while one of Givens’ men pulled her wallet from her jacket. Leather flipped open and Dixon smiled with more than a hint of tooth. “I believe a change in attitude will make some variety of reward possible.”</p>

<p>“You heard my terms,” Givens shot back, puffing on his cigarette as Dixon’s wallet was returned.</p>

<p>Two steps, and guns centered on Dixon’s chest. She stared at each of the bruisers in turn, then answered, “And mine: every second, starting now, that you have a gun on me, Captain Kayle will deduct ten dollars. Whether any of money that Mr. Tierney,” she said and emphasized the name yet again, “loaned to Mr. Dolman’s is in evidence, you’ll have to take my word.”</p>

<p>“I’m through with playing nice, sweetie. See what it’s gotten me with this vixie?”</p>

<p>Exactly what you deserved, I thought. As if reading my mind, Givens sauntered over to Dixon and squeezed between his men, then cradled her jaw in his hand.</p>

<p>“Call the Captain. I want a guaranteed amount.”</p>

<p>“Take your damned hand off of me.” A crack echoed and Dixon’s eyes narrowed.</p>

<p>No reason to stick around. The whine of the city crept in through the windows of the east wall. I stomped the guy’s foot to my left. Grabbed right and kicked low. Flash of dark and gray to my other side. And from the office doorway, a shout to run. There might have been other words after  that, such as one with four letters. The man would pay for that later.</p>

<p>I pulled one of the machine guns out of the pile. Hit the speed. Dixon had tackled the stairwell guards from my path. No good way to disguise a tommy and its drum. Not that I wanted an unreliable piece. Left the souvenir at Lucille’s desk, then tailed it to the building lobby and away from sirens closing in from the west.</p>

<p>I was getting my money’s worth out of a monthly streetcar pass, and Dixon was right about me leaving her with my men and my messes. Tierney would have to listen calmly to her and the uniformed cops in her wake.</p>

<p>And Jones? Bad idea. So was talking with Delmar or Tierney, but the two Bosses—the half-bison and the Professor—needed to be angry at someone that wasn’t me.</p>