In some ways, Jessie thought, if you had to be a supernatural being, it was better to be a ghost, a hell hound, a demon, a vampire, a werewolf, a ghoul—almost anything other than a mythical Wop or Nigger. Those poor sons of bitches had it rough.
“Ah, my friend the shamus!” Zeke Kanastorous cried, when the angel brought Jessie to the table at last.
“Hello, Zeke.”
“Sit down, sit down. We’ll order drinks and dinner, from the intercom, and then we can chat.”
They were served their drinks by a lumbering zombie whose eyes were pure white, containing no pupils or irises. In a sepulchre voice, the creature said, “Your dinner will be served in fifteen minutes.” Then it stomped away, lurching down the crooked aisles between the tables.
“They must be hard up for help,” the demon said, clicking his long green tongue with distaste.
“Yeah,” Jessie said. “Now what about Gayla?”
“And it better be good,” Brutus added.
Nervously, Kanastorous explained. “She was with this Aimes character for several hours, and when he was in the right mood, she tried bringing him around to this maseni you’re interested in, this Tesserax fellow. His reaction was immediate and antagonistic. He revealed that he had been given special emergency powers for the detention of human and supernatural civilians, and he ordered her to remain on his bed, not to dematerialize and go elsewhere. Then he got on the nether-world communications network, and he called someone.”
“Who?”
“We can’t say for sure. But it was someone high up in Satanic rule, someone who could give orders to a demon like myself or a succubus like Gayla. In a minute, Moloch materialized in Aimes’ bedroom, in answer to the call.”
“Moloch? Satan’s secretary of state?” Brutus asked.
“The same,” Kanastorous said. “He ordered Gayla to break her contract with me, and with other clients, and to report for special work as Satan’s envoy in Japan.”
“They’ve gotten her out of the scene, then, even though she didn’t learn anything,” Brutus said.
“Maybe they’re afraid she did know something, from her association with Aimes, something he didn’t even realize he’d told her,” the demon said.
“Whatever their reasons for silencing Gayla,” Jessie said, “they’ve proven there’s something big brewing around Tesserax’s disappearance.”
“Maybe too big for you to handle,” the demon said.
“Maybe,” Blake said.
“What will your next step be?”
“I’ll have to think about it,” the detective said.
“You won’t expect my fee back, will you, old gumshoe buddy?” the demon asked anxiously, leaning toward Blake, his martini glass cautiously clasped in both hands.
“You can keep it,” Jessie said. “I may not have learned what I had hoped to learn from Gayla—but the incident has taught me other things.”
Their dinner arrived, along with a bottle of wine which Kanastorous was paying for, and they spoke no more of Tesserax or Gayla or the strange situation that Hell Hound Investigations had become involved with. Instead, they drank a second bottle of wine, which Jessie paid for, and they chatted about mutual acquaintances.
By the time they’d finished dessert, Jessie said, “I’m afraid I must be excused for a moment. I suffer from a condition of the bladder which you people don’t have to contend with.”
“By all means, go ahead,” Kanastorous said, letting go of his glass with one hand to wave airly toward the men’s room door. His other hand slipped on the wet glass, and he dropped his wine into Brutus’ lap.
“You clumsy little creep,” Brutus growled.
“Now, now,” Jessie said. “It’ll be all gone by the time I get back. Zeke can’t help that he’s got only four fingers a hand.”
“You don’t even have fingers,” Zeke told Brutus, petulantly.
As Jessie walked away from the table, the zombie was lumbering toward the scene of the accident, a dish towel draped over one arm.
“Don’t be nasty with him,” Jessie told the white-eyed monster. “He can’t help it if he’s not got any thumbs.”
“He could drink out of a dish, like that friend of yours,” the zombie said. “I’m not paid to be a nursemaid.”
“He’s a good tipper, though,” Jessie said.
The zombie’s expression remained grim, his voice deep and monotonous, but he said, “Well, I guess anyone can have an accident now and then.” He went on, heavy-footed, for the table where Brutus was barking at the demon.