Excerpt: Lady Luck: First Time's a Charm

Prologue...

The train barreled by, and the many dishes and fake china rattled fearfully on their filthy shelf. The Greasy Palm Diner, which had once been the Greasy Palm speakeasy, certainly lived up to its reputation. There was a fine layer of scum and dirt that had once been free-floating dust crammed into each corner. Even the most sat upon stools still proudly held their smattering of grime, and legend had it that the last truly clean dish had long ago fled to higher ground. All in all, the Greasy Palm Diner was the perfect place for a secretive meeting between public foes.

“You look about ready for a refill,” Grayson Lee, the proud and practically eponymous owner of the Greasy Palm spoke as he went on wiping a dirty glass with an equally dirty rag. The lights were dim enough that no one cared to point the pointlessness out to him, though.

“I feel about ready for a double,” The woman Lee had approached replied. There was little of her face visible, cast into dim shadow as she was by her dark blue fedora pulled low over her eyes. In fact, there was little that could be discerned about the woman at all, save for her gender and pale blond hair color. She was clearly not vertically gifted, and in accordance with the dark and drizzly night outside, she wore a coat that dropped nearly down to her ankles. She spoke with a vague Irish lilt, and had only removed the leather gloves from her hands fifteen minutes prior. “But another cup of java would be appreciated. T’anks.”

Lee shuffled over to retrieve the faded-glass pot of coffee, and refilled the woman’s cup. Working his jaw around lazily, he cast a sidelong glance at the quiet dame as he set the pot back in its ancient heater. “So you waitin’ for someone?”

“Excellent question.” It was an excellent question to which she clearly was uninterested in supplying an answer. She simply went on to take a half-appreciative sip of the joe, and retained her methodic silence as Lee shrugged and went back to his bored and ineffective cleansing of the glass.

And this scene remained untouched for another ten minutes or so. The rain outside was growing thicker, with the skies complaining of their work load with all the grumbling prowess of a bus tipping over onto its side. Every so often, the already struggling lights of the Greasy Palm would cast the place into blinking bouts of darkness, during which the very few patrons would freeze to ensure that they didn’t lose themselves in the brief blindness. It was just before one of the larger losses of light that another stranger appeared. This one was male. He was stocky and carried himself with some grouchy self-assurance. And just like the woman who sat in silence at the counter, this was about all that could be told from his appearance.

“Hey there, Dick,” The woman greeted without offering the grace of raising her gaze as the man slumped into the seat beside her.

“Hi there, Lady,” The man grumbled in reply, removing his trilby to shake the hard line of rainwater from it.

The two sat in a collectively irritable silence, as Lee ambled over to offer the man something to warm him. In liquid form, of course. And then, his wares effectively sold, Lee shuffled over to the farther corner away from the pair. He couldn’t tell what they were going to be chatting about, but he could tell for certain that he wasn’t all that interested in finding out.

“So why’d you call me, Lady? Thought we had an understanding about that.” The man muttered after another train had barged past, causing the place to shudder once again.

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t call you, you don’t call me, unless it’s an emergency.”

“So what’s the emergency?” He turned a bit in his seat to fix her with a squinted, annoyed eye.

“Jeepers creepers, save that look for your suspects, Dick.” She chuckled quietly, setting her empty mug on the scratched wooden counter. “Your scary old man face don’t do nothing for me.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Lady. And it’s too late for banter. So what do you want?” The Detective slouched a bit in his seat, tapping his thumb against his glass impatiently. It was late, it was miserable weather outside, and he’d been dragged from his nice dry office for a meeting that would undoubtedly result in money flowing in completely the wrong direction: away from his wallet.

“Do you know how hard it is to stay out of sight in this city, Jeremiah?”

“Shh!” The Detective, Jeremiah, hissed from behind clenched teeth. His grip had tightened noticeably on his glass. He glanced around at the ghost-town of a diner, and with as much anxiety as he was ever known to show, tugged his cap lower over his eyes. “Christmas, if you’re gonna go blabbing a fella’s name out like that…”

“Aw, settle down, square-jaw. It ain’t like there’s anyone here that’d want your name, anyhow.”

“Says you.”

“Says I and the complete lack of anyone or thing interesting in this joint. So, how about it?” She began slowly twirling the mug around one finger, round and round on the musky surface of the bar. It made a sound like a ghost playing a cymbal.

“Lady, I spend all day solving stupid little puzzles for the rich-and-lazy. You want me to agree to something, you’d best start getting specific.” Jeremiah felt a scowl flash across his rugged face, and he hunkered down further in his seat.

“I need more money, is all.”

“Oh, is that it?” The Detective’s rocky voice grew sarcastically saccharine. “Wish you’d told me that over the blower. I’d have just ankled right on out to the money tree and picked you some fresh bills.”

“Do you know how hard it is-“

“To stay hidden, yeah, I heard that. Thing is, Lady, I already give you all I can to keep you comfortable and quiet-“

“-And out of the public eye.” This was clearly a conversation they had carried on before. And now, it was the lady’s turn to scowl. She leaned over in her seat, setting her sharp blue gaze firmly on his face so that even the salty Shamus couldn’t turn away. “And I’ve been keeping to my little corner within a closet like a good girl. I only come out when you need my help, or when I need to get some grub, and other than that my life consists of staring at my four pasty walls, waiting for you to call because you need my special talents-“

“Pipe down, already!” Jeremiah seethed, his hands clenching into fists. He would have clapped a hand over her mouth, had he not been entirely certain that she might bite a chunk out of it. His suspicious eyes again flickered in all direction, looking for an uninvited third member in the conversation. He found none, and proceeded to whisper heatedly, “And who do you think would have the harder time, between us two, if you chose to go ambling around town? There’s rules for…”

“People like me. I know. Which is why I don’t complain much. But a girl can only subsist on oatmeal and bacon for so long, Sheik. I’m not asking you to break into the piggy bank, just for a payment that more realistically reflects my role in your little operation.” While Jeremiah had grown irate, the lady had grown frustratingly calm.

“Yeah, fine. Jake. I’ll see what kind of kale I can shave out of our office expenses. Happy?” He gruffly crossed his arms, while still managing to throw back the last of his drink.

“Delirious. You’re the best, Dick. Catch you later, then,” And with a none-too pleasant smile, the woman rose up from her seat, clapping the Detective gently on the back and stepping with wraith-like certainty back towards the exit.

Lee stared after the stranger woman, uncertain. But at length he just shook his head, and went back to wiping his grubby glass. Some things were just best unknown.