Act Fourteen - Scene 5: Lady Luck

    ‘This new case… I hope it gets the two of us from the house enough to forget this mess with Angel. If only I understood the reasons behind her actions. They appear so empty, and yet… that woman does not do things without some meaning, no matter whose logic is on the line. It cannot, then, be simple jealousy…”

    Seated in the drawing room with my newest client I absently hear the doorbell, and also Dorothy’s footsteps as she intercepts the illicit entrant in the hall.

    “So you want me to negotiate what, Mister Dorland?”

    “The successful recollection of the Tarot Set, Mr. Smith. These figurines are very important to me, and when they were stolen from the museum I was very grieved.”

    “What makes these statuettes so important, Mr. Dorland?”

    He appears uncomfortable. “I bought them for my daughter, who enjoys such things, Mister Smith. It would break her heart to find them irrecoverable, and if it breaks her heart… She is the only person I have left in this world, Mr. Smith, and I have only recently come to know her, as a father should his child. The figures were to be her twenty-first birthday present, and I would very much like to keep the promise I made to her.” He pauses to take a photograph from his pocket.

    I take the picture and look at it. A young woman with tanned skin stares at me, dark eyes over a serious expression. Around her neck is a medallion in silver, resting midway between her neck and shirt, a white tank top with paint stains.

    “Your daughter looks very much like you, Mr. Dorland,” I murmur. Her hair is pulled back from her face, except for a few strands, in a braid that falls over one shoulder carelessly.

    “Thank you, Mr. Smith.”

    “She seems very serious, for a painter,” I hand the photograph back to him.

    “Due to my own errors, my daughter did not have the childhood I wanted for her. She has endured a life outside the domes that even I cannot imagine until two years ago when I finally managed to recover…” he talks about his limited knowledge in the field of computers for a moment and I perk my ear to try and hear who is speaking with Dorothy in the front hall.

    “So will you take the case?”

    “That I will, Mister Dorland. How long do I have?”

    “One week and two days, Mister Smith.”

    “Where can I contact you?” I ask, taking a small pad from my pocket. He recites a phone number. “Is there any way that I could talk to your daughter, Mister Dorland?”

    “Why would you need to do that?”

    “Your daughter knows quite a bit about the Tarot, doesn’t she?” The man nods. “Perhaps she can give me a little insight into the importance of these figurines, and possibly a lead.”

    He nods warily and recites another number.

    I write it down, and then hear a little scuffle in the hall.

    “If that’s all the information you have for me, Mister Dorland, allow me one question.” We rise, he nods, “What is your daughter’s name?”

    “Hope Dorland.”

    I smile at him and head towards the door in front of him. Dorothy hears my footsteps and ends the scuffle, ducking into the room across from this one; she pushes the person into the den with her.

    Mr. Dorland leaves with an anguished smile and I reassure him that I am on the case before I return to find Dorothy seated lady-like on Angel’s chest. Angel is staring angrily at Dorothy, her blond hair is messed up and her face holds a red mark and a few scratches. Dorothy has a deep line down her left cheek.

    “She had a knife, maybe more than one,” Dorothy cautions me as she continues to pin the woman to the floor, her knees braced on her forearms.

    “Get this hunk of tin off me!”

    I smile bemusedly for a moment. “Are you otherwise armed?”

    “Yes.”

    “Are you going to harm anyone else?”

    “No,” her own eyes change.

    “Or Dorothy again?”

    She scowls. “No.”

    Dorothy climbs off of her nimbly. Angel waits for me to offer her a hand up, and then angrily gets to her feet. “Why are you here?” I ask politely, looking at Dorothy for any signs of instability.

    “I told you, I need you to negotiate…”

    “And I told you no.”

    “You didn’t even listen to what I had to say.”

    “It’s for Paradigm, or at the very least, it’s for your mysterious employer, who I’m beginning to think is only Rosewater, which means that I want no part in it.”

    “Roger,” she rarely uses my first name. She’s either trying to be alluring or pitiful. “Roger, please, I don’t want to see anything happen to you. Take this job.”

    “Even if, and you can understand the improbability of that statement, if I wanted to, I can’t right now. I’ve already got a case.” Dorothy’s hand is holding her cheek. “Now leave before I throw you out, Angel.” I cross my arms on my chest.

    “Roger…”

    “I repeat my last intent, Angel. I hate to do it, but you…”

    “Aw, did I damage Roger’s little robot?”

    Dorothy stares blankly forward but I can see the depth of that cut.

    “Norman!”

    I hear her make an angered snort and move off. “Perhaps it was unwise to do that, Roger.”

    “Dorothy… she sliced you so bad you’re sparking.”

    “I’ll live, Roger. She has a point. Your well-being does depend, in some manner, on Alex Rosewater’s goodwill.”

    “His goodwill never got anyone anything but a shallow grave,” I spit out. “Now come on down to the workshop and I’ll get Norman to repair this gash.”

    “It isn’t that bad.”

    “That wasn’t a request.”

***