Chapter 12: THE QUIET BEFORE ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE

Louis Norton's arrival at the Viggo Pederson campaign kickoff put a damper on the evening. Most of the guests made their way to the door. Those who remained were either very loyal to Pederson or were of the under-thirty crowd taking full advantage of the open bar, endless buffet, and chocolate fountains.

The dwindling crowd

Paul Cooley stuck around. He figured it was what Artie would expect him to do. 

After John Blake and his security crew removed Louis Norton from the Swann Club, a woman whisked Alicia Webb away for another private meeting with Viggo Pederson. For the second time that night, Paul Cooley found himself on his own in a room full of strangers. If not for the comradery of Pinnebog News ace reporter Jessica Robbins he would have been miserable.

A woman whisked Alicia away

"So, what's the story on your little friend?" Robbins asked. 

Cooley shrugged. "Don't really know her. Like I said, Artie was going to use them as a way to get in here tonight."

"Where is Artie?"

Cooley shrugged again. "Last I saw him he was leaving the Taconite to follow a lead. He told me to come here with Miss Webb and keep my eyes open."

"For what?"

"For anything."

"I'd say you saw it." Robbins looked around the room. "The heads of state don't look too happy with what they saw."

Jessica Robbins looked around the room

Cooley looked up. Not far from their table sat some of the mansion dwellers along the coast of Tip Town. Old families, older money, older ideals. They weren't at all pleased with Mayor Jeannine Tibbets' sweeping re-imagining of Port Pinnebog. Their plan, it seemed to Cooley, was to replace her with Viggo Pederson, not exactly a legacy name in Port Pinnebog, but certainly, someone who shared their philosophies. 

These were the long-established families of Port Pinnebopg. Families that included Finley Dawson whose family built its fortune in lumber. With Dawson sat  George Laporte whose great-great-great-grandfather sold furs, pick-axes, shovels, anything settlers needed to build their homes. Mariam Weathersby, who came from a long line of bankers and investors and venture capitalists eager for job creation, made the rounds, catching potential donors as they headed to the doors.

Finley Dawson and George Laporte were not pleased

Miriam Weathersby made the rounds

With that heritage came suspicion, maybe a little resentment. It would be foolish to run anyone connected to the family lineage. The younger generations of the founding families were too busy living the partygencia life to be concerned about maintaining what early generations had earned. The money was there, would always be there. They lived by the creed, 'Les sez le bon  temps roule!' Let the good times roll.

 

'Les sez le bon temps roule!'

What the families needed was someone the people could get behind and they felt that someone was Viggo Pederson.  It came with a price. Pederson attracted a certain element the families weren't accustomed to. Elements like Joey Marbles, the kid with the glass eye. Rico Adonis, quiet, observant, mute from an earlier altercation; Adonis lost his tongue but his assailant lost more. The final member was the handsome Eldon Plum, born with one hand stricken by ectrodactyly; he refused to view this as a hindrance and considered it an advantage.

Joey Marbles, Rico Adonis, Eldon Plum

Cooley knew what the families knew: They had to take the bad to get the votes. As long as they didn't attract negative attention, didn't distract from the campaign, they were more than welcome to stay. At least until after Pederson won.

"Maybe the families should talk to your psychic friend," Jessica Robbins said.

"I don't think she predicts the future. I think she is a conduit for the deceased to speak to the living."

"See, I find that pointless," Robbins said. "You had your whole life to talk to me. Now you want to bend my ear now that you're dead? Why?"

"Maybe I want to tell you something I couldn't when I was alive."

Robbins leaned closer. "Tell me now, Cooley."

Robbins leaned closer

He felt the toe of her shoe slide up the back of his leg.

"Maybe tomorrow, Robbins."

The shoe kicked his shin. "It's always tomorrow with you."

He was going to tell her that wasn't true. He was on the job, she had to understand he couldn't abandon Alicia. Before he could tell her any of this, she kicked him. Cooley bent down to massage his ankle. He had a wider view of the room from this angle. From this level he could see events unfolding at one of the many bars. 

Corrine Lara stood at the rail talking to Eldon Plum. They leaned close. Their eyes darted between staring at one another and searching the room. A crowd began to gather around them. Corrine Lara was used to gawking fans. 

Corrine Lara and fans

Eldon Plum not so much.

Eldon Plum didn't care for Corrine's fans

"You're going to be glad you stuck around," Cooley said.

"Am I?"

"Take a look at the bar." Cooley lifted his chin in the direction he wanted Robbins to look.

Under the sign of a black swan, Eldon Plum was in a shoving, shouting match with one of the founding families' younger descendants.

"The lady happens to be having a private conversation, pal."

"We're just asking for an autograph."

Asking for an autograph

"She's busy."

"Eldon," Corrine Lara said. "It's all right."

"No, it's not. He has no business interrupting us."

Neither man was backing away from the confrontation.  Both had to save face in front of their parties. Their women.                                                                                     

Eldon Plum did not surrender

Paul Cooley sat back. "Get ready for the Brickhouse Boys." He took a pull of his drink.

"Is that the next band?"

"Funny, Robbins." Cooley swirled the ice in his glass. "It means they all did time together at Pinnebog Penitentiary." 

Over at the Black Swan bar,  Joey Marbles and Rico Adonis stood on either side of Eldon Plum. 

The angry fan stared at the three men. He remained defiant. "You got something to say?"

The Brickhouse Boys confront an angry fan 

"I think you've said enough," Joey Marbles said.

"I don't give a rip what you think." The angry fan looked at Rico Adonis. "What about you? You got something to say?"

Rico Adonis pointed a finger himself. 

"Yeah," the angry descendant said. "You. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

Rico Adonis laughed silently. He slapped Joey Marbles in the arm. In a swift motion, Adonis caught the angry man by his necktie and pulled him to within an eyelash of the point of his switchblade.   

Oliver Swann's voice bellowed over the hush of the crowd.

"That's it, the party is over! Everyone out. You stay, you can talk to the cops. They're on their way."

The crowd made its way out of the Swann Club.

"Guess that's our cue," Robbins said. "You coming?"

"I have to wait for Ailcia Webb."

"Do you?"

"It's just business, Jess."

The woman who escorted Alicia Webb from the ballroom approached Cooley. She was alone.

"Mr. Cooley."

"Yes?"

"Miss Webb has made other arrangements for the evening. She is no longer in need of your  services."

"What are these other arrangements?"

"Mr. Pederson will be seeing her home."

"She lives in Edgeville. The last train of the night leaves in an hour."

"Mr. Pederson is aware of the train schedule."

"I'd like to confirm this new arrangement with Miss Webb."

"I am the confirmation, Mr. Cooley. Miss Webb has already left the building."

Alicia made other arrangements

"I'm sorry. You are?"

"Mrs. Filch. Tilda Filch. Chief liaison for Mr. Pederson."

Tilda Filch, chief liaison for Viggo Pederson

"Tilda Filch. Well, Mrs. Filch, I think you should know--"

Mrs. Filch raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Mr. Cooley?"

Robbins took Cooley by the arm

Someone took Cooley by the arm. When he turned he saw Jessica Robbins holding his elbow.

"Time to go, Cooley."

Cooley agreed.  Alicia Webb wasn't a child. There was nothing more he could do.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I needed this chapter to come from Paul Cooley to drop more exposition surrounding the history of Port Pinnebog. It's like a trail of breadcrumbs: mention Tip Town here, mention it again later, bring it up again to give it some permanence with the reader.

At the same time, I needed to separate Viggo Pederson from the 1% of Port Pinnebog. He probably has more money than the five founding families have combined. (I've only mentioned three, there will be two more.) It's all part of Pederson looking for inclusion in the dynamics of Port Pinnebog and the three families establishing a puppet regime.

This chapter also brought out new faces. The Brickhouse Boys, three founding families-whoa! Just had a lightning bolt of an idea who one of the other two families will be! It's a game-changer. Mrs. Filch, who came in at the eleventh hour.

Jessica Robbins, Paul Cooley, Corinne Lara grew. Oliver Swann is still pretty flat. He may have peaked. 

I think I'm at about 15k for total word count. 

 

Chapter 11: THE WOMAN ON THE GURNEY

Waiting with nothing to do

Belinda Doyle watched the sunset from the hospital room of a stranger. 

The woman Artie Reasoner asked her to keep an eye on slept in a nice comfortable bed while Belinda, whose ankle throbbed on the short stool she propped her foot on, sat in a chair with nothing to do.

When the occasional nurse came in to check on the woman in the bed, Belinda would reiterate her request to have her friend and colleague, Jillian Proust, paged to the woman's room. The previous nurse who came in told Belinda visiting hours were over for the day.

The nurse adjusted an apparatus

"I'm on assignment," Belinda told the nurse.

"Yes, I've been told." The nurse adjusted an apparatus. "I only meant no one else would be coming in this evening."

The conversation had been somewhat unsettling. Several hours had passed since the ambulance delivered Belinda to the hospital. During that time she had seen her boss, Artie Reasoner, but no sign of Jilly. Belinda worried that maybe something had happened to her friend. Immobilized by the ankle injury, all Belinda could do was wait. 

She knew little about the woman she kept guard over. After meeting with Louis Norton about the man's missing wife, Artie had Belinda make dinner reservations while he sent Jilly with Paul Cooley to Pinnebog Penitentiary to speak to Agatha Kitchner. Artie went off to the Swann Club but somehow wound up in Edgeville where he met the sleeping woman and her psychic friend. He brought them back to Port Pinnebog so he could piggyback off their invitations to a red-carpet event at the Swann Club hosted by billionaire industrialist, Viggo Pederson. 

Now she was in the hospital with a sprained ankle, Jilly was missing, Paul was at the Swann Club with a psychic, and Artie was off chasing leads. Some weekend.

"Excuse me, Miss Doyle?"

Belinda turned to the door. Nurse Weaver stood inside the frame. Something troubled her.

"Yes, Nurse Weaver?"

"The woman you've been having paged."

"Is she here?"

Nurse Weaver worked up a smile. If it was supposed to be reassuring, it wasn't working.

"About an hour ago an ambulance arrived with the body of a woman found floating in the Pinnnebog River by the lock bridge."

"Midtown."

"Yes."

Belinda felt a slight sense of relief. "My friend lives in Tip Town."

"When the woman was found, she had a Big Wheel Casino rewards card in her pocket. The name Jillian P is embossed on the front."

"That doesn't mean it was Jilly they found floating in the water."

"No, I know. There are a couple of detectives down in the morgue waiting to talk to you."

"They want me to identify the body."

Nurse Weaver nodded. "If you're up to it. I can take you there in a wheelchair." 

The woman in the bed sat up. She turned to Belinda and Nurse Weaver. 

"You should go, Miss Doyle." The woman nodded at the door. "I'm fine."

"I guess I should go then," Belinda said.

"I'll be right back with a wheelchair." Nurse Weaver hurried from the room.

Belinda turned to the woman in the bed. "I kind of wish your friend was here so I could ask her about Jilly."

"Have you heard from her?"

"I haven't heard from anyone outside of this hospital."

The world outside the window was dark. The overhead lights in the room cast reflections on the glass. Belinda turned when she saw Nurse Weaver's reflection. She helped Belinda into the chair. 

Nurse Weaver helped Belinda into the chair

"Ready?" Nurse Weaver asked.

Belinda nodded. The nurse wheeled her down the hall to an elevator. Neither woman spoke to the other. Nurse Weaver must have sensed Belinda was trying to remain calm. In all actuality, Belinda was remembering when she first met Jillian Proust, a day that seemed eons ago but wasn't that far from the current one.

Fresh out of the administrative assistant program at PTU, Belinda Doyle had come highly recommended by the dean and her counselor. Jillian interviewed her and hired her on the spot.

"The hours are long. Sometimes you'll work weekends and holidays. Investigative work has no set hours but we open the office Monday through Friday at nine in the morning for walk-in customers."

Jilly hired Belinda on the spot

"Won't be a problem," Belinda assured her. And it hadn't. Even when she had to tell her family she'd be on assignment in Florida over the New Year. Belinda's mother had pouted, even yelled at her over the holiday ham dinner. 'You're ruining a family tradition,' her mother screamed.  Belinda stayed calm.

She was going to be in Miami for New Year's Eve. 

Belinda in Miami

Jilly would pose as a wealthy widow. Belinda would be her daughter. Artie and Paul were pals on a charter fishing expedition. They were looking for Harry Stanton, a man their client said married his mother for her money then ran off with the cash when the client's mother was killed in a car accident. The client believed Stanton was in Miami running a charter fishing business. 

Belinda undercover

The trip had been wonderful. Belinda and Jilly spent mornings on the beach, afternoons shopping, and evenings dining at locations they knew Stanton frequented. The plan went a little awry when Stanton made the moves on Belinda and Jilly. The team adjusted. 

Stanton chased after Belinda

Jilly cautioned her. Reminded her it was an elaborate hoax to catch a killer. Belinda couldn't separate the fantasy from the reality. Stanton was charming and sophisticated. She believed the words he said to her.

Stanton was also smart. He had invited Belinda and Jilly out for a moonlight cruise on his trawler. Jilly showed up with Artie as a date. Stanton got wise once they were out to see. He forced Jilly and Artie at gunpoint to jump into the ocean. Stanton tried to get Belinda to run off to Cuba with him. She tossed life rings over the side before she jumped overboard. 

Belinda jumped into the ocean

Stanton sailed off into the night. Artie pushed the life rings to Jilly and Belinda. He swam between them, pushing them away from the fishing boat. Seconds later the boat exploded. Burning debris rained down around them. 

Stanton's boat exploded

Paul Cooley arrived in a borrowed boat to pull the three from the water.

Captain Cooley

...and his borrowed boat

Belinda couldn't help but feel the loss of Harry Stanton.  The older, charming man had gotten under her skin. 

Belinda mourned

Jilly consoled Belinda. Artie said he doubted Stanton was on the yacht. Belinda never told any of them, not even Jilly, but one day at the office a postcard from Cuba arrived. All it said was 'Te amo por siempre'. Spanish for 'I love you forever.' 

This would be the second or maybe third thing she would say to Jilly if the woman in the morgue wasn't her.

The elevator pinged. The doors slid open. They were in the morgue.

Up ahead of them, an orderly wheeled a gurney down the hall. The wheels squeaked. The overhead hanging lights hummed. She could pick out voices but not actual words.

An orderly wheeled a gurney

Nurse Weaver took Belinda into a room. Three people stood around another gurney, this one with a body on it covered b a sheet. One of the three people was an attendant. The other two were clearly the detectives.

"Thank you for coming down to do this, miss," the man said. "I'm Detective Joshua Porter. This is my partner, Detective Josie Hernandez."

Detective Joshua Porter

Detective Josie Hernandez

"Hello," Belinda said.

"How do you know Jillian?" Detective Hernandez asked.

"We work together at Reasoner Investigations."

"You know Artie?" Porter asked.

"He's my boss."

"When was the last time you saw Jillian?" Hernandez shot out the question quickly as if she were avoiding a conversation about Artie.

"This evening. We were out together. Jilly and I left. I had an accident and wound up here. Jillian was supposed to meet me here but she never showed. The last time I saw her she was talking to the man who caught me when I fell off the trolley."

"Do you remember anything about the man?" Porter asked.

"He was in his thirties. Reddish hair. Strong arms."

Hernandez smiled. "Before we show you the woman under the sheet, we'd like to ask you about your hallucinations this evening."

"Nurse Weaver has told us about her experience," Detective Porter said. "She said you had a similar experience."

"I did. As did the woman I was sitting with when Nurse Weaver came to get me. I think Jillian had an episode as well."

Hernandez nodded. "Are you ready to view the deceased?"

Belinda stood. She looked at the attendant and nodded. The attendant pulled back the sheet.

Belinda stood for a better look

"That's not Jillian," Belinda said. "So why does she have Jilly's reward card?"

"More importantly," Detective Porter said. "Why is she dead?"

The attendant pulled back the sheet

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I got a lot of interesting A.I. images for this chapter. I'm pretty much sticking with NightCafe. I get fewer options for style but when they work it really adds to the story.

When it doesn't work, wow are they disturbing.

This is how it will go now: round-robin chapters. Next up will either be Reasoner at the office or Jilly at the casino. Reasoner also has a trip to a winery where he'll have an encounter with an earlier foe.

I came back to this chapter. Reworked some of the Stanton story, added images.

Chapter 10: A WALK ACROSS THE NIGHT

The Taconite Lounge

Art Reasoner returned to the scene of the crime.

The late evening crowd was smaller at the Taconite Lounge. The conversations quieter. 

Jenny the hostess

Jenny, the hostess, looked up from her station.

"Did you forget something, Mr. Reasoner?"

"No, Jenny. I'm here to see Vittorio. Is he still around?"

"I think he's in his office. I can check for you."

"That's okay. I'll see myself there."

Reasoner went around the bar. He pushed on the swinging door. Vittorio's office was at the end of the hall, closer to the wine cellar. Pungent cigar smoke wafted out of the partially opened office door. Reasoner knocked on the wall.

"Yeah," Vittorio said, his faux European accent now replaced by the nasally Michigan  'A'. "Come on in."

Vittorio sat at a desk. A crate of amber wine bottles took up a portion of the desktop. The box pushed up against an ashtray that held the aromatic cigar. A tendril of smoke curled and rolled toward the ceiling. Vittorio squinted at Reasoner through the cloud.

Vittorio sat at his desk 

"Reasoner. I had a feeling I'd be seeing you again."

"Before I ask you what I need to ask you, could you maybe open a window?"

"Why? My cigar offend you?" Vittorio puffed out a smoke ring. 

"That's a cigar? It smells like something burning at McFeeley's pig farm."

Vittorio tapped off the smoldering ash. He waved a hand at the window. Reasoner unlocked it. He lifted the frame.

"Better?" Vittorio asked.

Reasoner looked out the window. He'd never thought of it before but now he couldn't ignore what he saw. He became overly aware of the alley behind the Taconite. A stack of palates rested below the window, the perfect height for someone to use to break into the restaurant, make their way o the wine cellar...and what? Randomly spike a bottle of wine?

Vittorio scoffed. "Come on, Reasoner. It ain't that bad."

"Try breathing it through my nose." Reasoner pulled over a straight-back chair. He sat. "That the stock the tainted bottle came from?"

"That's why it's there. Police are on their way to take it to the lab."

Reasoner took a handkerchief from his coat. He wrapped it around the neck of a bottle and lifted it from the crate.

"Fuzzy Rabbit VIneyards," Reasoner said reading the label. 

Fuzzy Rabbit zinfandel 

"Local guy. Dirk Sommers. He runs a vineyard east of Eastdale. Between here and Bad Axe."

"Says here this white zinfandel is the winner of the Great Lakes Vineyard Association's Silver Tastevin Cup."

"That's why I bought a crate."

"What the hell is a tastevin cup?"

"Taste. Vin." Vittorio corrected Reasoner's pronunciation. 

"What did I say?"

"Tasty-veen."

"So what is it?"

"It's that silver scoop thing I wear around my neck. I'm supposed to use it when I don't have a wine glass available instead of shotgunning it from the bottle."

"How many of these bottles did you open?"

"Just the one. Miss Proust is always game for something new. I told her I had an award-winning white zin."

"Did you try it?"

Vittorio shook his head. "One of the servers poured. Don't ask me who. I was busy with a large party."

"Belinda told me she and Jilly had slight reactions. The third woman had the most severe."

"If these are spiked, it was added at the winery. If they aren't, then someone here added whatever caused your friends to trip."

"Doctor over at the hospital says the additive is undetectable."

Vittorio examined the crate. "So the only way to know if something foreign is in the wine is to drink it."

"Looks like it. Any recent problems with disgruntled employees?"

Vittorio shook his head. "Not in my department. I haven't heard anything going on with the waitstaff."

"Angry customers?"

"I don't know. Somebody inevitably regrets getting the vegetarian plate and wants to send it back for the veal at no extra charge."

"So, our culprit could be anyone." Reasoner stood up to leave.

 Jenny the hostess blocked the door. "There's an Officer Duggan here to see you, Rio."

Jenny stood at the door

Vittorio slid the ashtray and cigar into a desk drawer.

"Yeah," Reasoner said. "That's going to help." He gave Vittorio a cube of purple bubble gum.

"What do I tell Officer Duggan?" Jenny asked.

Vittorio popped the gum into his mouth. "Send her back."

Jenny's jaw stiffened. "How'd you know she was a woman? No. Never mind. I don't want to know." Jenny turned with a huff.

"Something going on with you and the hostess?"

Vittorio shrugged. "You ever work in the food service industry?"

"I was in the war and now I'm a gumshoe."

Officer Duggan stepped through the door. "Maybe Mr. DiDonato here will give you a legit job, Reasoner."

"Kate. Always a pleasure."

Officer Duggan narrowed her eyes and scoffed. 

Officer Kate Duggan

"This is the lot the wine in question came from, Officer Duggan." Vittorio lifted the box. "You want me to carry it to your car?"

"I'll take it," Kate said. She took the wine from Vittorio. "Call the desk sergeant for a receipt."

Duggan turned to go.

"See ya, copper," Reasoner said.

Duggan exited the room with an icy glare at Reasoner.

"Something going on between you and the officer, Reasoner?"

He opened his mouth to answer Vittorio but Duggan answered from the hall. "Not anymore."

"I'm going to wait a minute or two," Reasoner said. He unwrapped a cube of grape bubble gum.

"Good plan." Vittorio sat back in his chair. "So, what were you going to ask me?"

Reasoner shook his head. "You answered it without me having to ask."

"I didn't poison the wine."

"I didn't say you did."

"I don't know how it got in their drinks."

"Maybe it was along the rim of the glass."

"Maybe your friend took something before she came."

"Maybe it was in the drinks we had on the train. I have a hat full of maybe. Hard to know."

"You came back here for a maybe?"

"You ever hear of a Club Two-Fifty-Four in the warehouse district?"

"No, but I have heard of pop-ups in that area."

"Pop-ups?"

"Yeah. Some chef hot out of the culinary academy at Pinny Tech desperate to share his or her or their menu ideas will rent a space for a couple of weeks then close down to go legit in a more permanent location that sees more traffic."

Jenny came back into the room. "I punched out."

"I'm leaving, too," Vittorio said.  He looked at Reasoner and used his faux accent. "Caio!"

"You kids behave." Reasoner left the room before Vittorio and Jenny did. Behind him, Jenny unloaded a barrage of questions about Officer Duggan.

The night was cool. A thin fog rolled in from Wolf Head Bay on the back of a lake breeze. Parts of Wharf 49 remained busy. Reasoner could see the Glow Wheel turning at Pier Walk. The boardwalk amusement park stayed lit up until the bars closed. Until then he'd used the neon lights of the rides as his beacon. 

The Glow Wheel at Pier Walk

He'd gone deep into the warehouse district along the 200 block. He passed a lot of interesting doors. A couple of times he backtracked for a look and a listen. 

Doors in the Warehouse District

Many doors were unmarked

Most of the alley doors were unmarked. A few had faded names painted on rusting steel or faded wood.  Almost none of them had numbers and when they did, they were never sequential. 

Reasoner backtracking for a look and a listen

Reasoner realized he could be at this all night. Sometimes a task felt too monumental to tackle. Reasoner knew from experience the longer the chase, the less likely the lead would pan out.

 He chased Club 254 to find out who poisoned the wine. He followed the lead because there was a chance the Phyllis Nurse Weaver spoke of could be the missing wife of his client, Louis Norton.  Unintentionally, Reasoner searched for Club 254 because he did not like the idea of some new, undetectable, psychotropic drug being pushed on the streets of Port Pinnebog.

A door opened. An older man looked both ways along the alley. Reasoner tucked back into a darkened doorway once again to watch a new scene play out in a new alley. This was no tiger mom defending her whelps.

An older man checked the alley.

The old man turned and spoke softly to someone inside the room behind him.  A moment later a younger woman exited the building. She and the older man held hands. They spoke softly. She kissed the man who closed the door. The woman walked in Reasoner's direction.

The woman in the alley

Reasoner whistled. He stepped backward and knocked on the door. The wood vibrated under his hand and not from striking it. He put his ear up to the door. The door tingled as if electrified but not in a dangerous way. More like holding a buzzing Junebug in one hand as it flew back and forth inside the closed palm.

"Anyone in there?"

Reasoner put an eye up to a gap in the planks. Across the room, a fan turned. At least he thought it was fan. The hub glowed bright pink then yellow then pink again. The blades churned at alternating speeds. Reasoner kept staring at the machine that spun and hummed.

The hub glowed with alternating rings of color

Something dark passed in between the closed door Reasoner peered through and the glowing fan. Reasoner stepped back as the woman as she passed behind him. He nearly knocked into her. The woman stepped out of his way.  

"Excuse me," Reasoner said. She kept walking. He spoke louder. "I'm looking for Two-Fifty-Four. Ever hear of it?"

"If you have to ask, you don't belong." The woman turned down a cross street.

"Okay. Thanks!" 

Reasoner stood in the alley sensing he wasn't alone.

Maybe it would be a better idea to search from the street in front of the buildings. At least then he could follow the addresses. Reasoner headed down a cross street to the main avenue.

"Hey, buddy," a man said. He was younger than Reasoner. "I can take you to where you want to go."

A man offered to take Reasoner to Club 254

"You've been there?" Reasoner asked. He watched the man whose head and eyes never seemed to stop moving. The young man's hands never left the pockets of his jacket. Reasoner kept walking.

The younger guy shook his head. He trotted alongside Reasoner. "Inside? No. But I've been outside it. Come on, I'll take you there. We're almost there now."

The younger man caught Reasoner's arm. Art felt the younger man's grip tighten. The guy pulled something from his pocket with his free hand. Reasoner waited for the inevitable click of the switchblade.

"That will be unnecessary, young man."

Both Reasoner and his would-be tour guide turned to look in the same direction. An imposing figure stood just inside the shadows of the alley lamps. Whoever it was, the younger man didn't stick around. He ran off down the closest cross street.

An imposing figure stood in the shadows

"You should be more careful, Mr. Reasoner."

Reasoner stared at the man. in the shadows.  "Do I know you, mister?"

"We've never met until now but I have followed your work."

"You a private detective?"

"Not in the least."

"You're not going to tell me who you are, are you?"

"Who I am is inconsequential. Suffice it to say my cohorts and I provide a service." The large shadow drew a wet, heavy breath. "The establishment you seek has been dealt with. It is no more. However, know this. While we have removed the thorn, the bush from whence it came continues to grow."

"You're big on vague metaphors."

"Allow me to spell it out for you. The people who manufacture the product they are slowly introducing to. the fine citizens of Port Pinnebog call it Delirium Six. The street name is Captain Coughs because the lozenge looks and tastes like a mellow, mint cough drop." 

"You seem to know a lot about it."

"We are not the ones making the tablets if that is what you are alluding to. We've only recently discovered its presence."

"You keep saying 'we', mister. Who are you?"

Headlights swept over the walls as a car turned down the cross street.

A car approached

"Leave, Mr. Reasoner. You will find no answers here."

The car came closer. Reasoner turned to see who was driving in the alley. When he turned back, the large man was gone.

"You call for a cab, Artie?"

Reasoner shielded his eyes from the headlights. He recognized the voice.

"Betty Dempsey."

"The one and only."

The one and only Betty Dempsey

"I didn't call."

"I'm well aware. I gave up waiting for you to ring me."

Reasoner felt the dig. He drew in a breath to capitulate. Betty cut him off before he could.

"You need a ride or not?"

"Absolutely do."

"Good. Let's go. This isn't my favorite place to be."

Reasoner got in the cab.

"I don't suppose you saw who I was talking to just now."

"You kidding?"

"No. I was being reprimanded by some big, slurpy-breathing, shadow."

"You were the only one standing there when I stopped. Where am I taking you?"

"My office. You remember where that is?"

"Better than you do my phone number."

"I think I stood a better shot of coming out of the alley unscathed than I have in this cab." 

"You're tougher than that, babe. It's why I like ya."

"It's good to have friends."

"Friends? Do friends bounce the way we bounced?" Her eyes met his in the rearview mirror.

Eager to redirect the conversation, Reasoner asked, "You hear anything about Captain Coughs?"

Betty scoffed. "You put up too many walls,  Arti." 

The conversation in the cab quieted. Just when Reasoner had given up learning anything, Betty said, "I hear it's bad. Lowers inhibitions and makes you feel euphoric. Invincible. But the crash is worse than the morning after one too many Polynesian Pearl Divers at the Hawaiian Isles. By then you're body is hungry for more of it. Why you asking? You're not looking to score, are you?"

"No. My administrative assistant and my office manager were slipped some tonight in their wine."

"That's how they hook you. Give it to you free for a while and then lower the boom on you with having to pay for it."

"Ain't that the truth. Like cigarettes. Got them free in the war. Came home I had to buy them."

"I thought you quit."

"I did. I'm trying. Now I'm addicted to grape bubble gum."

"It's always something."

Betty drove down the alley. Reasoner looked out the window as they passed a door marked 2-5-4. He decided it was pointless to stop.

Door 254

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

A short chapter. Long enough to advance the mystery of the hallucinogenic drug, introduce new characters, and flesh out some existing ones. 

Part of this experiment is learning how to increase the mystery without a wagonload of exposition. Sometimes it helps, like the long-winded explanation of Mayor Tibbets' rejuvenation of Port Pinnebog and how each district functions. There was also the backstory of the Edgeville Outlaws. For the most part, we all tend to be storytellers who summarize major events in our pasts over beers with buddies or lunches with friends. The exploits shrink time, cut out unnecessary portions. We edit as we tell.

For instance, the idea for the chapter and its title came from an incident I had in New Orleans during a convention I attended over a Fourth of July weekend. My buddy and I had spent the afternoon at Pat O'Brien's where I was introduced to the Hurricane. Several fruity-punch connections and one fresh shirt on the house later, my buddy walked me back to the hotel. I awoke in a panic, first wondering how I'd gotten to the hotel. Then I wondered what had become of my buddy. I thought I'd left him at the bar. I dressed and hurried the endless blocks of Bourbon Street alone. I stepped inside the bar where I had a flash of my friend walking me back earlier in the day. I left the bar on my own. A block later a man saw me coming. Asked if I was all right. I kept walking. He walked with me. We talked all the way back to the hotel. He asked if I had anything for him. I gave him what money I had in my pocket. He left and I took the stairs up to my room.

I know what the next few chapters are going to go. I considered adding more to this one but once Betty drove past the door, it felt like this chapter was complete.

I don't foresee using A.I. prose in chapter eleven.