Penny Dreadful (18 page)

Honey gnawed at a hangnail. I like it, I do. It sounds like a grand idea.

The first order of business is to profile one of your brightest and bravest, to make one special cop look like the guy next door. Our sources say that Detective Jimmy Sky is your finest officer.

Sky, did you say?

That’s right.

Oh, dear. I don’t think I know him. No, I don’t.

He should be attached to this squad, said Ray.

No, no. Jimmy Cliff is a singer. A Jamaican fella, I believe.

Jimmy Sky, said Ray.

Honey thumbed his intercom button. Nadine? Is there a detective named Sky on my squad?

She sighed mightily. No, sir.

Honey smiled. There you go.

Interesting. Let me ask you this, then. Have you had any officers go missing of late?

Honey’s eyes darkened, as if a stray cloud had passed before his brain. He leaned forward, one bony finger poling at the air before him. Listen boy, he said. I never leave this office. Except for weekends, that is. I sleep on a fold-out cot like a goddamn soldier. Nadine has all my food brought in by long-haired little shits on bicycles. And I pee right into a mason jar when I need to relieve myself.

Ray took off his hat, ran one hand through his hair. He was sweating.

Believe you me, said Honey. I would know if any of my men were missing.

Of course you would.

Captain Honey closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Before long, he was snoring.

Ray Fine sat there a while, nodding. It occurred to him that old Phineas was probably crawling out of his skin right now.

Dizzy Bloom:

Warm inside and dangerously cozy.

The girl called Goo was curled on a nest of pillows by the fireplace. Chrome had gone to take a shower, a cold shower. Dizzy had asked him very politely to save a little hot water for her bath and he gave her a nasty shivering look, saying softly that he took only cold showers. Mingus sat cross-legged in the bay window, his nose shoved defensively into a book of Dorothy Parker’s short stories. Dizzy moved in shadows about the room, lighting a few scented candles and turning the radio to a gospel station. She kept looking at Goo. Wondering who she was in real life, how she came to be here and how deep she was in the game. Goo didn’t fidget, she noticed. She didn’t pick at her fingernails or play with her hair. Her hands were restful, solemn. Dizzy glanced at the ceiling and wondered what Chrome was doing up there. He could be spitting onto every clean towel, he could be masturbating on her bed. He could be using her toothbrush. He could be taking a shower. The pipes were droning but cold water was fairly endless. Dizzy moved to sit beside Goo. The girl smelled of musk and brown sugar, of dried blood and Band-Aids. A rich, intoxicating presence and thank God she threw off no visions.

Are you hungry? said Dizzy.

Goo stretched her thin legs and smiled without speaking. Dizzy looked at her closely now. A short, wild mop of black hair. Dark, soft mouth and gray eyes. Heavy boots. Brown suede jeans and a little black sweater of silk or fine cotton with short sleeves. The sweater didn’t quite cover her tummy, and when she moved, it rose a little. Dizzy again smelled dried blood, and she saw the white edge of adhesive tape. The girl had a bruise on her left arm, another on the side of her neck. But this wasn’t unusual. She was an Exquisitor’s apprentice.

Do you eat meat? said Dizzy.

Goo sighed. Yes. I do now.

What’s the matter?

Do you know why we’re here?

Dizzy shrugged. One of you is running from something.

My apartment is slipping.

Really?

Yes. It was disappearing before my eyes.

The girl spoke in a clipped, halting monotone. She stared without blinking and Dizzy realized she was in a mild state of shock.

I saw a car disappear once, said Dizzy. It just melted away.

How is that possible?

Physically, it’s not. As far as I know.

Physically.

Dizzy grinned. Useless distinction, isn’t it.

I want to sleep, said Goo. I want to wake up and be normal.

How long have you been in the game?

The girl hesitated. As if she couldn’t quite remember her real life, her past. Then she shivered. A slow flush of color in her cheeks. Not long, she said. A little more than six weeks.

You’re just a baby, said Dizzy. You will be okay, eventually.

Dizzy lifted one hand, or allowed it to float sideways. She began to stroke the girl’s hair, dragging the soft black curls through her white, crooked fingers. After a minute or two of thick silence, Goo touched her wrist and asked her to stop. Dizzy wasn’t offended. Some people don’t like to be touched. Dizzy excused herself, slipped away to the kitchen. She tied an old apron around her waist and began to chop onions, thinking she would start with a nice spinach salad. Then perhaps grilled shark steaks.

Excuse me?

Dizzy turned to find Mingus standing in the doorway. Hesitant, as if he was afraid to intrude. Mingus was so strange. Otherworldly, even within the game. It was hard not to like him. He was small, frail. Not more than five feet tall and barely a hundred pounds. He was maybe two pounds heavier than she was when naked and wet. Thin blond hair, almost white and hanging over his dark eyes. He had the sweet face of a boy, soft skin and red lips. He had possibly never been with a woman, although she knew he was about her age. Dizzy was twenty-nine.

Come in, she said.

He moved closer, he moved slowly. He was worried, frightened. Dizzy took a deep breath of him and he was a whirl of scents, most of them not his own. She saw nothing but dark skies.

What is it?

I’m a bit worried, he said.

Dizzy put down the knife, wiped her hands on a towel. Mingus glanced uneasily at the ceiling, then back at her. The shower was still running. The pipes groaned and whistled. Mingus went to the refrigerator and got out a piece of ice. He sucked on it as he spoke.

It’s awkward, he said. It’s about Chrome, you see. And I don’t want to cause alarm without good reason, but he took down a Fred, yesterday. Under the sun. We were not within the game.

Dizzy shrugged. That’s risky, of course. But not so unusual.

No, said Mingus. That’s not it. He killed the man. Literally, I mean.

An iron skillet fell from Dizzy’s hand, crashing to the floor. It barely missed her foot. Mingus stared at her, sucking nervously at the ice.

What? said Dizzy. What did you say?

There was blood, he said. A lot of blood. I don’t always trust my eyes but I’m sure it was real. The man’s throat was gone and I think Chrome wants to make the game real. Or more so.

Dizzy put one hand over her mouth. Have you ever seen the future?

No, he said. Never.

What about Goo? she said.

Mingus frowned. What about her?

Have you told her this? said Dizzy.

No, he said. Chrome is my friend, my ally.

The girl should know who she sleeps with.

The kitchen was shrinking around them. Pots and pans, a dead wandering Jew. A microwave oven she didn’t know how to operate. Crystal champagne glasses that had never once been used. A black-and-white photograph of two strangers, apparently just married. A television that baffled her. She had no idea where it had come from.

Fuck me, said Mingus. I can’t deal with this, you know.

And your Glove, she said. Who is your Glove?

Mingus shook his head. I have a Genetics midterm in one week.

Who? said Dizzy.

He sighed. Theseus. You know it’s Theseus.

Okay, said Dizzy. Tonight we will talk to him, we will tell him about this.

On the street again, my belly ripe with acid and funk. I hated every bend of light. I pulled off the damned mustache that had been tickling my poor nose like a dead thing. Tossed it in the gutter. Fuck that thing. It had been a mortal struggle not to sneeze every five seconds. I removed the glasses, too, but tucked them into my jacket pocket. You never know, I might want them again.

I had intended to meet Griffin at the Paramount as Ray Fine, but there was really no point other than to amuse and confuse. And Ray was not such a reliable persona, was he. Too fucking daffy. I was much better off in my own skin. I would wear Ray’s clothes, though. I felt kind of cool in them. I glanced at my new watch, then frowned and plucked off the price tag. It was early and I had plenty of time.

Ducked into a video store with the idea that I might rent a copy of Shane and put a smile on Moon’s face. We could watch it in the raw sleeping hours past midnight and drink more of that Canadian poison. Funny thing, though. I found the video on the shelf and as my eyes flicked over the credits on the back of the box, I couldn’t help noticing that Lee Marvin did not play the lead. It was Alan Ladd, presumably the father of Cheryl and what was in a name, right? Nothing. But it was weird and I decided not to rent the thing after all.

Outside, I hailed a passing cab.

I relaxed in the back and counted my money. I couldn’t be wasting too much of it on luxuries like taxis, at least for a while. Was not sure what I was going to tell Moon. That Jimmy Sky doesn’t exist and maybe the two of us should take a little vacation down to Florida? A little quiet time, that’s all Moon needed. Moon wasn’t going to like it at all. He believed in this shit. He believed that cops were disappearing and coming back like zombies. And one of them Jimmy Sky, his friend. Missing or dead. My stomach hurt. I would have to be careful with the old bear. Remember the coffee table, I thought. And then I saw myself smile in the rearview.

Very strange.

Maybe I should take Moon out with me tonight, to see this swing band with Griffin. Those two would get along like a heart attack and a bottle of ether. It would do Moon a world of good, though. Maybe he could hook up with a nice, middle-aged single lady. I would have to keep an eye on him, though, and not let him get so drunk.

Now I glanced out the cab’s window. Larimer Street. A few blocks from Moon’s place. The cab passed a vacant lot and a length of cyclone fence and then I see a gray Taurus parked crazily on the sidewalk and wedged against a lightpost. Had to be, I said out loud. Had to be Moon’s car.

Let me out here.

I passed the cabbie a few bills and walked over to the abandoned Taurus. It wasn’t so badly wrecked. The tires were still sound and the front end was maybe a little wrinkled. Nothing to worry about. I touched the hood and it was pretty cold. Peered through the windows and noticed that the driver’s seat had been gutted like a goddamn big fish. Yellow stuffing everywhere. Now that was odd. I frowned. There was no blood, at least. Maybe it was nothing. I touched the door handle and what was this? The same unsettling wave of warm dizziness that I felt at Eve’s place. Like a plastic bag had been slipped over my head and I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t like this at all and recoiled, flexing my hand. I looked up and down the street and started walking quickly for Moon’s place.

Goo:

Something she needed to do, something important but she couldn’t quite remember what because it wasn’t her problem, it was Eve’s. Never mind, never mind. Hum and holler. It would come to her, or it wouldn’t. She sat up and took a good look around. Dizzy Bloom had a nice place. Asian rugs and a thousand books, dried flowers and dark wooden furniture, abstract sculptures and a glowing tank full of exotic fish. How did she maintain all this if she was forever stepping in and out of life? She was a Breather, though. And like Mingus she would be less affected by the Pale, by the lure of tongues. She would have that creepy ability to accept both worlds as real. To let two violent colors merge and become one.

Goo watched her now, as Dizzy laid out a white tablecloth on the floor and arranged dishes and silverware. Dizzy looked so solid, she looked permanent in her flesh. Graceful, silent. Long dark hair and white, white skin almost pink. Leather jerkin buttoned to the throat. Hard to tell if she had breasts or not. Her skirt was full, swirling. But the leather knee boots made her look tough. Dizzy glanced up, saw her looking and Goo could only smile, unashamed.