Considering the circumstances, Copal was relatively calm and level-headed about it. If they acted quickly enough, he said, maybe they could cover up this little stumble. So he went and got Calavera into his office, giving a good performance as he righteously chewed him out. But Copal nearly lost it when they learned that the woman had already left the building in the belief that she didn’t rate any better than the walking package. But he managed to keep up appearances and hustled Calavera out the door, while letting Domino know he should call Hector.
That wasn’t something Domino really wanted to do. He had no idea how Hector would react. Realistically, it was probably inevitable that someone would discover their scam, especially since Domino insisted on skimming so much from just one agent, but Domino’s mind glossed over that fact. He wasn’t worried about Calavera. They had him under control and could shut him up permanently at any moment. Domino was more concerned about the Colomar woman. She was loose, totally random, and could do any amount of damage. But whatever the consequences, Domino had to make that phone call. Trying to keep what had happened from Hector would only make things worse. When Domino got him on the line, he said only that there was a problem and that they needed to talk in person in Copal’s office right away.
When Hector arrived, he, Domino, and Copal shut themselves in. Domino quickly outlined what had happened, being careful to place the blame where it belonged. Hector just sat behind Copal’s desk perfectly still except for the fingers of one hand drumming softly on the desktop.
“Mr. LeMans, I assure you,” Domino finished, “the missing woman will be found. I will personally track her down myself.”
Hector’s fingers stopped their tapping. “Just like you ‘personally’ picked her up from the Land of the Living?” he asked ironically.
“That was my intention,” Domino protested, sounding a little too desperate even to his own ear holes. “But somehow, agent Calavera got to her first.”
Hector’s fingers drummed a quick riff. “We gave you the fastest car, Domino,” he said, too softly for Domino’s comfort. “We gave you all the best clients. You had all the advantages. So how was this Calavera able to sneak in there and eat your lunch?” By the end of his speech he was on his feet and towering over Domino.
“Oh, now Hector,” Copal said, trying to sound reasonable, “you can’t get too mad at Domino! That wasn’t his fault.” Domino felt a little relief as Copal went to bat for him.
“Oh, I can, Don,” Hector said, again too quietly. “You should know I can get too mad.” There was an almost imperceptible pause. “But not at Domino.” As Hector said this, Domino noticed that his other hand—the one that hadn’t been tapping on the desktop—was holding something. “After all,” Hector continued, “he wasn’t in charge of this operation.” The gun started to come up. “At least, not until now.”
“Hector! No!” Copal shouted as he saw the muzzle point straight at him. Hector squeezed off three quick rounds and Copal dropped with a gurgling scream.
“Marigolds,” Hector observed when it was all over. “Funny. For some reason I was expecting tulips. Well, maybe Mr. Calavera, eh, Domino?” He chuckled as he sat back down. “Why don’t you personally go down and escort him up here? The sooner he’s sprouted and we can get back to business, the better.”
“Right away, Mr. LeMans,” Domino said, stepping over Copal’s body as he left the office. On his way out, he noticed that Eva wasn’t at her desk, but thought nothing of it until he got to the storeroom where Copal said he put Calavera. The door was open and Calavera was not inside. He quickly returned to Hector.
“Calavera’s gone,” he said. “And so’s his girlfriend… Copal’s secretary.”
“Hmm,” was all Hector said at first. The one hand was back to drumming on the desk but, Domino was relieved to see, the other was on his enormous belly, patting in counterpoint. The gun remained out of sight wherever Hector had holstered it.
“Not the best news,” he finally said, “but I think we can add that to the list of Don’s failures. In any case,” he continued as he hauled himself back to his feet, “I don’t think Mr. Calavera is our immediate worry any longer. It sounds as though he and his lady friend have decided to remove themselves from our affairs. And it’s not as if he knows anything definite… and he can’t reveal what he does know without sticking his own head into the noose. That just leaves Mercedes Colomar,” he said as he got to the door. “I’m counting on you to straighten this out, Domino.” He nodded toward Copal’s remains. “Don’t forget, I expect a great deal from my employees.”
“You won’t be disappointed, Mr. LeMans” Domino said. “I’ll find the woman, and I’ll deal with Calavera, too.”
“Nothing would please me more,” Hector said, “but don’t lose your perspective. Your first priority is that woman.” He opened the door. “I’ll see to your promotion in the morning. I trust you’ll chose a suitable time to clean up in here.” He closed the door behind him.
Naturally, Domino had no intention of hauling Copal out to the greenhouse in broad daylight. He returned to the office some time after midnight, after celebrating his good fortune at a series of nightclubs. He had with him a large, strong plastic bag for carrying the remains. He went into Copal’s… into his office… and began working the shrubbery formerly known as Don Copal into the sack. After a minute or so he paused, hearing a soft, scuffling noise from outside the window. When he didn’t hear the sound repeated, still unsure whether he had really heard anything at all, he returned to his task.
Probably just pigeons, he thought.
NEW YEAR’S DAY FANDANGO
A nameless port town lay on the edge of the Sea of Lament, although it isn’t really nameless. In fact, it’s name is the only thing distinguishing it from most of the other ports around the Sea of Lament. It’s name is simply unimportant. Like all the others, it grew up where souls traveling across the Land of the Dead stopped to gather money or courage for the next stage of the journey.
The name of a particular bar near the docks is also unimportant. It’s only claim to distinction on this particular night is the giant, orange demon sitting with one lost soul for company at a rough table in a back corner. The mood at that table also differed from the rest of the bar. Whereas all the others (for the most part sailors and women of questionable—if not indictable—virtue) were drunken, raucous, and exuberant, the occupants of that one back table was drunken and moody. The soul was moody, at least. The demon appeared more annoyed than anything else.
Both, the soul and the demon, were dressed as sailors. Their clothes were new, but while the demon looked crisp in his uniform, the soul managed to look like a loose sack of bones as he hunched over his beer.
The demon frowned a little as he looked on as his friend stared into his mug. He gave a sharp sigh. “Geez, Manny,” he grumbled, “what d’ya expect to see in there?”
The soul stirred a little. “I’m contemplating my future,” he mumbled, mostly sloshing over the middle part of the longest word.
“I think that only works with tea,” Glottis said, “and you have to drink it first.”
Manny drained the mug and peered at the bottom.