1.
Wade sighed, and looked at the cloudy sky as he left the message on his parents' voice mail.
“So...I told you a while back that I got a job and a place to sleep. My landlord and boss were dating, and she passed away recently. My boss is taking this kind of hard. Things have been a little strange, here. I think I know enough to keep the business afloat while he recovers, but...”
Wade sighed through his nose, as if some valve in his head had been released and a pressure was being relieve.
“...I don't know how much more of this I can take. Okay. Talk to you later. Bye mom, bye dad.”
He hung up, and heard the dollar twenty-five in quarters drop down into the innards of the pay phone one by one. He checked to make sure no one had left change in the phone, then turned and walked back. He stood under an awning and lit a crumpled, crooked cigarette with a dying lighter.
All week, the weather had been pouring rain, work had been stacking high, Algernon had been lying on his belly under his desk, listening to Bill Withers records. The ashtray equal with his eye piled high with a zigguraut made from crumbled bits of lucky strikes. Red eyes. White skin. Yellow fingers.
But only that one song. Wade could sing it without thinking, and had actually caught himself doing that a couple of times:
“Ain't no sunshine when she's...gone. Only darkness every day. Ain't no sunshine when she's...gone. Only darkness every day. An' she's always gone too long, everytime she goes away....”
2.
"Well, I will tell you, and you must understand if you can. You belong to a singular race. Every man is a suffering-machine and a happiness-machine combined. The two functions work together harmoniously, with a fine and delicate precision, on the give-and-take principle. For every happiness turned out in the one department the other stands ready to modify it with a sorrow or a pain -- maybe a dozen. In most cases the man's life is about equally divided between happiness and unhappiness. When this is not the case the unhappiness predominates -- always; never the other. Sometimes a man's make and disposition are such that his misery-machine is able to do nearly all the business. Such a man goes through life almost ignorant of what happiness is. Everything he touches, everything he does, brings a misfortune upon him. You have seen such people? To that kind of a person life is not an advantage, is it? It is only a disaster. Sometimes for an hour's happiness a man's machinery makes him pay years of misery. Don't you know that? It happens every now and then. I will give you a case or two presently. Now the people of your village are nothing to me --
you know that, don't you?"
Algernon's eyes cracked open. In his head, it sounded like a door creaking open. Wade was gone, so he had slid from the chair and lay under his desk, only taking enough initiative to get the ashtray from where it sat. Mari always said his office was filthy. He wasn't going to make it worse.
He put a cigarette in his mouth, and lit it.
Filterless, now. He couldn't be bothered to remember which end to light, and which to suck.
He placed his ear to the ground, and heard Jacob puttering around. On the phone with his life-partner, Santiago.
“Yes, he's still like that...”
Pause.
“I don't really know about them..”
Pause.
“Maybe. I think they were. It's the only way the reaction makes sense.”
Long pause.
“I'll pick some up on my way home. Love you.”
The last phrase soured Algernon's mood further. He rolled over, pointing his face away from the ashtray, and putting his bad ear to the ground.
Domesticity, he thought, ugh.
The door downstairs whined, then crashed. Wade's voice was indistinct, as was Jacob's response. Algernon flipped his head once more, leaving a line of dry gray ash on the ground.
“--checked,” Jacob said, dryly.
“Okay, I'll go take a look.”
Algernon spat out the cigarette, and allowed a small spot of pleasure when it hit the ashtray. The smoke still lingered in the room, and the ashes were hot on his unshaved cheek. He sniffed, and turned himself face-down, his nose pressed into the hot ash.
The door of the office opened.
“Would you quit it with the theatrics?” Wade asked, grabbing Algernon by the armpits and dragging him forward and up. He set the older man on his feet, leaning against the desk.
Wade sniffed.
“Algernon...when's the last time you took a shower?”
The answer was a mumble. A twist of sound that carried no meaning.
“When?”
“I'unno.”
“You get a goddamn shower right now. Take one.”
“Why?”
“Because if you don't, I'm going to tuck your record player under my arm, and toss it into the river.”
3.
Wade waited and listened to Algernon showering. His head throbbed, and something like greasy black smoke lingered on the edges of his vision. It was like something was lurking in the corners of his world, waiting for him to slip up. The pain was intermittent, but sharp.
He screwed his eyes shut, and lit another cigarette. Retrieving the ashtray from the ground, he set it on the desk, and looked at it. Bits of burned paper fluttered around it like snowfall. Bowing his head, he thought for a long moment.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come on in,” he said.
On the other side of the door was an elderly palestino man in black robes, his beard reached down to his sternum, and he had sharp, bright eyes.
“Is the Heller agency still operating out of this office?” the old man asked.
“Ah, yes. Come on in and have a seat, Ab. I'm the junior partner, Wade Larkin. Mr. Heller is currently...”
He looked toward the bathroom, noting that the shower had been going for a good forty-five minutes.
“Indisposed,” he finished, “but I'm perfectly capable of handling things. No further vandalism, I hope?”
The old man smiled.
“No, no. After the last time, it's rumored that we have a guardian genius, of sorts. No. This time, it is a theft. An object sacred to Eshmun has been stolen.”
Wade nodded.
“What sort of object?” Wade asked.
“A small black box worked with white symbols. It's called a phylactery, from the Greek. The jews refer to it as a 'Tefillin,' though theirs contains scriptures. Ours contains solanum herbs and a representation of a serpent.”
Wade nodded again.
“So, how long ago did this phylactery go missing?” he asked.
“We're not absolutely sure. But we do know that it was present during our last ceremony, last Thursday.”
“I'm going to have to come and look at where it's kept. The fee is one-fifty a day, plus expenses.”
“I thought it was two hundred?” the Ab asked.
“Well...repeat customer discount, and besides...Mr. Heller won't be able to help on this case.”
The priest nodded, and set his jaw.
“Well, you know where to find us. We'll be waiting for you, Mr. Larkin.”
The Ab left, and Wade pushed open the door to the bathroom.
Algernon sat in the shower, the stream of water aimed at his stomach and crotch. He had a lit cigarette in his mouth, and the ashes were mingling with the water. The older man's eyes cracked open and he turned toward Wade.
“I've got work. Turn off the water and get dressed.”
Algernon closed his eyes again, reached up, and turned off the water. But he did not move from his spot.
“Good enough,” Wade growled, and headed for the door, “Theia will be coming by later to check on you. Would you mind putting on some underwear, at least.”
“Eh.”
4.
“So they didn't steal anything else?” Wade asked.
“No,” the Ab said.
Wade looked around, and ground his teeth for a moment. The whole process of investigation was much more high-stress without Algernon, even if he didn't do much.
“And you didn't notice the door damaged, or even unlocked?”
“No. It's as if it were unlocked,” the Ab replied.
“So...no damage, just a missing object, with nothing else out of place. It's as if it vanished. That means that someone who was supposed to be in here took it. Or at least someone with keys. Could I get a list of all people with keys?”
“I'll ask our receptionist. What do you intend to do with it?”
“Go and talk to each one.”
“You're going to accuse them one by one?” the Ab asked, flabbergasted.
“No. Of course not,” Wade said, “I'm going to ask questions, but I'm not about to accuse anyone of anything.”
“What sort of questions?” the Ab pressed.
“Oh, fairly standard things. I'll claim to be investigating a theft near the temple, and find out when they were here, and if they saw anything.”
“What's to prevent them from lying?”
Wade smiled.
“Most people are very bad at lying. It's not too hard to tell. I'm not going to make any accusations, but I can probably figure a few things out.”
When he'd acquired the list, Wade put an “X” by the Ab's name, and the receptionist.
“I'll get to work on this. If I find anything significant out, I'll call you with my progress. Otherwise, I'll get you an update on the minor things in two days.”
The Ab nodded, and Wade left, walking past the statue of Eshmun-Asclepius sitting in the front yard. As he walked into the late October sun, he began to hum.
“Wonder this time where she's...gone, wonder if she's gone to stay...ain't no sunshine when she's gone, and this house jus' ain't no home anytime she goes away.”
He looked up and down the street, and headed for the convenience store.
“...I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know...”
He stepped up to the pay phone, and pulled out the phone book, and began to write down addresses and phone numbers next to the names.
“Yeah, I ought to leave the young thing alone but...”
He stopped himself, and looked around, realizing that he was singing soul music on the street. He furrowed his brow, and went back to his list-making.
He finished, and fished the first fifty-cents out of his pocket, to make his first call. He put a note in the right margin of the paper:
“Expenses: $.5 + ”
5.
Theia opened up the door of the office, and saw Algernon laying on the ground, dressed in his underwear and a white t-shirt, smoking a cigarette, though otherwise seeming to be asleep.
“Hey,” she said.
“Ugh.”
She came in and sat in the chair reserved for the customers, resting her elbows on her knees.
“You want to put on some pants?” she asked.
“No.”
“C'mon. Pants are nice.”
“Leave me alone.”
“You want to at least not lay on the ground? Maybe a comfy chair?”
“Shut up.”
“Alright. Something simple. How about moving for me.”
He spat his cigarette butt into the ash tray, and flipped over his head.
“It's a start,” she noted.
Algernon remained silent, his eyes opened in slits.
“You don't have to sit vigil over me,” he said, suddently.
“Don't I?” she asked.
Silence.
“It's not your fault,” she noted.
“Yes, it is.”
“How?”
“No such thing as a no-win. We were stupid.”
“Two sentences. That's good. Want to get up?”
He pushed himself up, and settled back into his chair. The stubble on his cheeks made him look older than he was.
Algernon smiled.
“I'm going to go piss.”
He opened his desk drawer, and pulled out his gun.
“Transparent lies,” Theia said, leaning back.
Algernon walked toward the bathroom, and closed the door behind him.
There was a click.
“Son of a whore!” he shouted. There was a thump as he threw the gun against the door.
“Motherfucker! Cockface! Of all the--!”
Theia stood, and opened the door.
Algernon was on his knees, head against the white ceramic of the bathroom sink.
“Why, Theia?” he asked.
“What do you mean, 'why?'” she asked, “we knew that it was probable that you'd try something like this, so we took necessary precautions.”
“I can just get more bullets,” he said.
“Took the papers out of your file and the card out of your wallet.”
“They know me at Jerry's Armory.”
“Called ahead. They put you on a no-sell list for ammunition, weaponry, and pornography. You can still go there for alcohol, but we figure that you work...and kind of live...above a bar. It's not really an issue.”
Algernon closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before whispering:
“You bitch...oh, you fucking bitch...you little c--”
She kicked him in the ribs, hard enough to lay him out, then brought her heel down on his stomach with enough force to knock the wind out of him. She hoped that he wouldn't have to go to the hospital.
“Alright, listen,” she said, keeping her right foot on his chest and her hands in her back pockets.
She breathed deeply through her nostrils, and began.
“Wade and I are worried about you. You've been a good tutor to me, and you gave him a job. But more than that, we're your friends. Which means that we worry about you, want you to be happy, and put up with most of your shit. But the moment you bring out the 'c-word' on me, I will kick your ass.”
Algernon gasped.
“And don't think I can't. I've got a black belt in aikido, I played soccer when I was younger and I play rugby now, and I just started taking savate classes. You, on the other hand...are kind of out of shape, and rely too much on that gun of yours for defense. No offense, Algy, but I could ruin you.”
She let him roll over.
“I don't want to, Algernon. I'm your friend. But don't call me that. Bes'd?”
“Bes'd,” he replied.
“Good. Now get dressed. I'm taking you out to lunch.”
6.
Wade returned to the bar after midnight, dark circles under his eyes from the legwork he'd been doing.
Theia emerged into the half-light of the city night, closing the door behind her.
“How is he?” Wade asked.
“Hey, Lark,” she replied, “he's asleep. Jacob offered me a bit of work at the door this evening. Sand-walk jazz. Oud player was pretty good.”
She glanced away, keeping her shoulders square and her stance somewhat tense. Wade's eyes narrowed, and he forced them open wide, and blinked several times in the dark.
“Never really got into the Oud.”
“It might be an acquired taste. I'm a local, so I'd never know.”
“Heading back to University Hill?”
“Yeah. I've got classes tomorrow.”
“Want me to walk you back? I need to clear my head.”
“If you want,” she said, glancing back at him. Her face was cool.
“I do,” he said.
They turned, and headed south. He was almost two heads taller than her, but their stances were similar, but with notable differences: both walked with their hands in their pockets, her with her fists clasped, him with his relaxed. His shoulders were loose, she seemed ready to bolt.
“Had to kick Algernon's ass, earlier,” she said.
“I've thought about doing that a couple of times. You didn't break anything did you?”
“You don't want to know why?”
“I figure you had a good reason. You seem to be pretty savvy with interpersonal things.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“He was going to call me a cunt.”
“Little severe, isn't it?” he replied, keeping his tone neutral.
“I know!” she said, back, “I mean, just because we prevented him from shooting himself in the head...”
So she wants to think of me as siding with her, he thought.
“So he tried?” Wade asked.
“Yeah. Went into the bathroom. Didn't even try to hide what he was doing.”
Wade smirked.
“You were right.”
“I know.”
They headed downhill, toward the bridge. The river had swollen up, and swept away the shantytown that had formed on the floodplain.
“They didn't have time to evict everyone, you know. The sheriff's department was understaffed.”
“It's a shame. Hope no one was seriously hurt.”
“Seriously hurt?” she repeated, looking over at him.
“Doubtless someone was hurt. Hoping they weren't would be futile.”
She smiled, and looked at him.
“You're a weird one, you know that?”
“Why do you say?”
“I don't know, Lark. You say strange things, and I don't know why you do half the things you do...oh, and there's the whole turning-into-a-monster bit.”
He winced when she said that.
“Not my fault. I blame Carver. He put some poison or drug or something in me. Injected right into the back of my neck.”
“I don't blame you. It's not your fault you turn into a monster.”
“Hasn't happened in a while, thank-you-very-much.”
They began to cross the bridge, the river sluggishly flowing beneath them.
And as for you, river... Wade thought, and he “hmm”ed deep in his throat, unsure where the words came from, and gave voice to the next phrase that entered his mind, whispering it to the rain and the hidden stars:
“Asclepius...why are you weeping?”
Theia was about to turn towards him and ask what he had said, but she looked up as the clouds ripped open, revealing the black velvet night sky.
A sky like none had ever seen before. A dozen silver dollar moons hung in the curtain of the night, and a myriad of stars in every color from white to dull red studded the sky like powdered gems. A profusion of colors and light shimmering above.
The milky way sliced across the image like a white ribbon, simultaneously wavy and straight.
As soon as it had opened, the sky sealed itself up, and resumed the rain, pouring down on them with renewed vigor. The two ran, heading for the relative shelter of her apartment.
7.