Devil Take the Hindmost: Lola Starke, #3

By Sandra SG Wong

Enter the world of Crescent City, an alternate history 1930s "Chinese Los Angeles," and home turf of private investigator, Lola Starke...

A simple case. A den of thieves. A woman committed to the truth.

It's a straightforward case: find a missing husband who spends his days examining stamps. Still reeling from recent tragedy, however, Lola Starke wants to pass altogether, more so since her ghost Aubrey insists it's the perfect cast to ease back into things. But the wife is adamant something bad has happened. What's a shamus to do—especially when the missing man works just down the hall?

But straight ain't in the cards, not in the middle of a high-stakes business deal involving the City's most powerful film studio, a wily gangster, a rival PI...and a rare stamp. When her client is kidnapped, Lola discovers just how far the twisting path she's willing to go to save the woman and her missing husband.

This is the '30s and this is Crescent City, where gangsters and thieves are thick on the ground and the film studios are the biggest game in town. Where smiles hide secrets and good intentions mean nothing. Where the only question is, what will it take to be last woman standing? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.G. Wong
• Release date: Sep 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9780994088031

Book preview

one

S

orry about the trouble, Miss Starke. I must have misplaced the key in my haste this morning." The woman blushed, her cheeks turning pale pink.

Lola turned back to the door with a grunt. If that’s how the client wanted to play it, she’d go along. For now. You’re certain your husband doesn’t employ wards, Mrs. Kane? What you’re asking isn’t exactly above board.

The client ducked her chin. "I know, I’m sorry. But no, no wards. Lewis thought they’d attract more attention actually, a virtual advertisement that there’s something valuable."

Lola nodded and selected her picks with care, threading them slowly in between the teeth of the lock. Breath slow and even, she nudged the slender rods carefully, envisioning the configuration inside the doorknob’s mechanism. Ignoring the rustle of fabric behind her, Lola felt her way with the picks one way, then the other, and pushed upward gently.

The lock clicked. She turned the knob, pushed the door inward. After you.

Kane brushed past, footsteps hesitant.

Lola smelled citrus and frangipani. She glanced up and down the still-empty corridor before following her client inside.

Kane stood staring down at a desk in the centre of the room. Tucked up against it, a ladder-back chair in matching dark wood. She slid a finger along the desk’s edge.

I didn’t think he was here, but still. She shifted her gaze to Lola. I suppose I was hoping he’d just…well, that doesn’t make much sense either, does it? A man doesn’t hide out in his office for two days and nights unless something’s wrong. Her faint smile faded into a frown. And I’d swear that everything was fine. Wonderful, even.

Is there anything out of place? Or missing? Lola eyed the two walls of shelving with their neat rows of cloth-bound volumes, thick as encyclopedias. The wife’s touch was obvious in the brightly striped cushion on the ladder-back chair. Lola guessed her client was also behind the plump two-seater sofa, two armchairs, cuspidor, and low table arrangement in the corner. In all the years that Lola had shared the floor with Lewis Kane, she’d never once heard a cluster of voices coming from this office space. In fact, she’d never heard boo from the man himself.

Kane walked to the window, threw the lock, and pushed up on the sash. Lola heard the same noises she was used to hearing from her own space. Brisk footsteps, blaring horns, revving engines, grinding gears, even the occasional snatch of conversation. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Lewis Kane’s office was only thirty feet down the hall from her own.

You haven’t heard anything at all these past days?

Lola returned her attention to the client.

Kane’s marcelled waves shone blue-black in the sunlight, ending just below her chin, highlighting a slender alabaster neck. Her dark eyes were pinched at the corners. She held her small frame stiffly, shoulders tight, gloved hands clutching a simple cream purse tight against her stomach.

Lola shook her head. I’ve not been in much this week. Not that I hear so much as a peep from your husband usually. Stamp collecting isn’t a very…expansive endeavour.

Philately. That’s what they call it. Kane stared at Lola another beat, then narrowed her eyes. Do you even know what Lewis looks like?

Lola returned a bland expression.

Kane flushed, turning her face away.

You didn’t forget your key, Mrs. Kane. You don’t have one for this office, do you? Lola saw the woman’s shoulders rise even farther, but she pushed on, kept her tone gentle. Perhaps your husband doesn’t wish to be found.

You don’t know a thing about us. Kane faced Lola fully and squared her shoulders. I can imagine the sordid becomes normal in your line of work, but we’re not like that. Lewis and I, we’re very close. We spend every evening together, even though we both have clubs. She raised her chin. I’ve spent the past two nights and a day ringing up every one of his associates, even the ones abroad. No one’s heard from him. Philatelists are an odd lot, and I know Lewis has had to leave abruptly before, to perform an assessment out of town or somesuch. But he’s always left me a note or rung me at work. This is not normal for us, Miss Starke. I’m worried.

This may best be handled by the police, said Lola. They have more resources available to them.

I stopped in once already yesterday morning. Kane shook her head, scowling. "The desk sergeant said a Chinese woman gets what she deserves when her gwai husband runs off on her."

Lola had no reply for that.

I want a woman investigator, and there seem to be even fewer of those on the City force than there are as private detectives.

Did you file a missing persons claim with them at least?

The sergeant made it clear it was a waste of time, said it was too soon. She paused. But I’ll do it later today.

Lola looked around the room again. She pointed at the desk. May I?

Kane nodded.

Lola took stock of the surface. A plain green blotter, a battered black telephone, a scratched fountain pen and two pencils in a cup. She opened the drawers, found a bottle of ink and four sets of metal tweezers, envelopes, and pads of blank paper. There were also boxes of small, square glass plates and squat bottles of glue.

These for the stamps? What d’you call it, mounting them? Lola said.

Yes. Lewis said sometimes collectors will pay more if the stamps are pre-mounted by him. He’s very precise.

Lola nodded distractedly. Can you tell if anything is missing or awry?

Kane turned in a slow circle. I’m not here often. But if something bad has happened, wouldn’t there be some disarray? The woman’s shoulders were tight, but she met Lola’s gaze plainly.

I’m not in the habit of leading clients on. Lola felt a twinge of unease from the Arbogast case, four months past, when she’d said the same thing. That had not ended well. She pushed aside her misgivings. There are a number of options here, Mrs. Kane. One, your husband has disappeared of his own accord, with careful planning and execution. In which case, he’s left all of his work behind. She gestured to the office, neat as a pin. Two is that he’s been called away unexpectedly and so urgently that he hasn’t had a chance to contact you. In which case you simply need to wait until he does. This option may also mean that he wrote you a note, but it’s got lost somewhere, or he forgot to leave it in plain sight for you.

I suppose he may have had to travel far and hasn’t been able to wire me or to telephone. Kane’s tone was dubious.

Third, said Lola, mindful of her tone, is that he’s met with an accident and hasn’t been able to contact you.

I’ve rung all the hospitals in the City. Kane’s tone turned sharp. None of them have any patients under his name and none of the unidentified patients match his description.

Lola nodded, her thoughts turning grim. Kane raised a hand before Lola could continue. I would know if he were gone, gone for good. Her expression became fierce. So he’s not. He may be hurt. He may be with a client in some out of the way village. He may have simply forgotten to get in touch with me. But the fact remains. My husband is missing and you must help me find him.

d

Lola shivered as her ghost returned to her in the Ether.

Aubrey said, What’s this? ‘Calla Kane.’ Is she related to the stamp man down the hall?

Lola felt a tightness inside of her relax a fraction. She scowled. Yes.

She couldn’t see Aubrey, of course, nor feel exactly where he stood, but she knew instinctively he was reading over her shoulder. Twelve years of being haunted had taught her at least that much sensitivity, though the tether chafed as much now as it did at seventeen. She shook off the old anger. Her parents had simply wanted to protect her, she knew that, even if their misguided attempt forced a ghost on her. Anger was useless now. The past was done. Still, Lola fought the sudden childish urge to snap her notebook shut.

And what are you going to do? Aubrey asked. Call the same people and hospitals all over again?

That’s what she wants. It’s as good a place to start as any. Lola’s mouth lifted at the corners. Stamp collecting ain’t exactly a hotbed for scandalous doings.

Hm, might depend on the stamp.

Lola grunted. She picked up her sleek black telephone and asked the operator to put her through to the first hospital on her long list.

Forty minutes later, she was able to clear ‘injured, unable to contact’ off her list. One hour after that, she’d spoken to twelve collectors from across the country. She scratched off ‘out of town trip,’ locked up the office, and headed out into the hot afternoon.

The mid-August sunshine brightened everything to a glare. Women held aloft umbrellas, the occasional black circle darting amongst otherwise pale sun shades. Lola drove across the City, to the farthest of Lewis Kane’s associates, then made her way back in a wide loop. Of the five men and lone woman, not a one had heard from Lewis since the previous Friday. There were no upcoming exhibitions and no one had any idea where Lewis might have gone, nor any reason why he wouldn’t tell his wife. Calla was his world, they all said. Calla and stamps.

Aren’t you concerned? Lola faced the last person on her list, a plump woman in a green linen qipao dress, silver hair pulled into an immaculate bun at her nape.

The woman laughed and gestured around her small, neat shop. We’re not exactly in the diamond or gold league, Miss. Why would anyone want to harm a philatelist? No, I’m sure he just got whisked away by some eccentric client. Now those, we’ve got plenty of. They’re the ones with money, so we all humour ’em. She shrugged. There’s money to be made in the usual course of things, sure, but no one’s gonna turn her nose up at a few thousand dollars just ’cause of a couple strange requests. She eyed Lola then and laughed. I bet PIs aren’t all that different.

Lola was tapped out of leads by eight o’clock. She called it a night, went home to change, and was at The Supper Club by nine-thirty. Her best friend, Ria, was covering a string of mid-afternoon burglaries for the Crescent City Herald, so Lola joined a table of middle-aged divorcées for her meal. She fidgeted for a half hour, listening to the house band, then made her excuses and left. She stopped in at the Lucky Bamboo, wasted two hours in a round of mah-jongg with three old men. She departed thirty dollars poorer, ready to jump out of her skin.

She drove eastward from there, staring at the taillights ahead of her. Eventually, she parked in front of a modest storey-and-a-half, dark save for a light in the attic dormer window. A figure stepped into the window space. Lola raised a hand to the silhouette, closing her car door. The figure returned the greeting and retreated. Lola heard the faint sound of footsteps, ringing against the hardwood of the stairs inside the house. She picked her way across the darkened walk, mindful of the uneven cobbles under her heels. A light came on, the front door opened, and Lola smiled at the man standing in the doorway in dark trousers, grimy shirtsleeves, and no collar.

I came by to see your new etchings, she said.

Aubrey muttered something unintelligible. Lola felt him disappear, that low level tension returning to her. Her smile grew.

The man in the doorway grinned, stepped onto the porch, took her by the hand, and hauled her inside. He closed the front door gently behind her. My etchings, huh? Not the most original of lines. He kissed her on the corner of her mouth.

Worked for you, didn’t it?

Mm, but I really am an artist. I really did have etchings to show you. He laid a line of kisses along the column of her neck, reached up and pulled the pins from her hair.

Well, I liked what I saw. Lola ran her hands up his forearms, his shoulders, and played them lightly in his hair. I’m back for another Nixon Yeung original. If you can spare the time, that is.

In reply, he flicked off the landing light.

two

Lola thrashed once and bolted upright. Her heart thundered behind her breastbone, filling her head with its roaring pulse.

Better that than the screams, she thought with weariness.

She threw aside the blanket, shaking her head against the lingering images of flames and black smoke. Trembling, she dressed in the chilly attic, taking great gulps of air. She found her artist asleep on the corner cot, and took her leave with a kiss. Her car started with a purr and she drove home in the predawn darkness, her window down. She blinked against the cool air streaming into her face and calmed her breathing block by block. The fire that destroyed the Empress Dowager Theatre burned out weeks ago. The Lim/Chu case was long over. The past was done. Nothing would bring the dead back. Nothing would absolve her of her impotence.

As the sun rose, she crept into her apartment and stood under the spray of hot water until the bathroom filled with thick steam. She stepped out into her bedroom, thoughts on a quick breakfast, and stopped short. A pale blue blouse and camel-coloured trousers were laid out for her on the bed. Last night’s evening wear no longer adorned the floor. So much for staying under Elaine’s radar. Out in the dining room, her efficient maid waited for her, next to breakfast set for one.

Lola downed her coffee, ate her rolls, and explained the new case.

Sounds like a strange one. Elaine sipped black tea, pushing the platter of sliced mango toward Lola.

The case or the man? Lola dabbed her lips and got up. Thanks.

Your lowly servant deserves no thanks. I am but performing my duty. Elaine speared a bit of mango and chewed, watching Lola tying her shoes. Be careful out there, boss lady.

Lola waved her way out the door, purse in hand.

The streets were heavy with traffic by the time Lola parked half a block from her office. There was a new lift operator. He stared, wide-eyed, at the three burly men and slender woman crowded into the elevator with Lola. She kept her grin to herself. If Mona Li wanted to pretend dark glasses and a scarf were enough to conceal her famous mug, who was Lola to argue?

Excuse me, Miss.

Lola eyed one of the bruisers. Yes?

My ghost says he can tell you’re a host, but he doesn’t see your ghost.

Lola shrugged. What’s it to you?

The man frowned, stepping in front of his companion. I’m in charge of Miss Li’s security—

The tiny slip of a woman slapped him lightly on the arm. I’m incognito, remember?

Trust me, Miss Li, said Lola. You’re not fooling anyone. She gestured with a thumb at her entourage. Shoulda left them at home. They’re almost as famous as you.

Li stiffened.

But don’t worry. Lifts, tucks, it makes no difference to me. Ask Doctor Plimpton yourself. I’ve never ratted out a single one of his clients. Lola smiled, letting it die before it reached her eyes.

Li took a step back.

The lift bell sounded.

Lola let them leave first. Li turned right, her bodyguard eyeing Lola with lowered brows.

She thanked the operator, turning left as she exited, and shook her head. Film stars. It was a wonder she’d fit in the lift with Li’s ego, let alone her entourage.

Lola’s amusement faded as she passed Lewis Kane’s office.

Behind her desk, Lola pulled out yesterday’s list, written in Calla Kane’s terse hand, and reviewed the names still left. Working out the difference in time zones, she reorganized, then reached for the telephone, forcing her neck and jaw to relax.

Edmund Henneman. How may I help you?

Lola opened her mouth to reply. Her teeth snapped together as she felt the chill of Aubrey’s return.

Hello? Is anyone there?

Lola cleared her throat and introduced herself, explaining her reason for calling

Yes, I spoke with his wife, a lovely young woman. Her English was delightful. You sound somewhat similar. I have an ear for accents, you know. Are you Chinese too?

No, Mr. Henneman, but as close as makes no never mind. She hurried on. I believe Mrs. Kane spoke with you day before last? Have you heard from Mr. Kane since then? Seen him perhaps?

’Fraid not. I prefer to do business over the telephone. We’ve met, of course. That’s important, you know, knowing one’s associates. But when we meet in person, it’s at the annual show in October. Philately doesn’t require much travel, you know. We normally use the post.

Lola thanked him for his time and rang off.

Eighteen minutes and ten more conversations later, she crossed off the last remaining entry. Rubbing at her ear, she stood up and stretched, then fetched an Egyptian cigarette from the inlaid box on her desk and fired it up. She walked to the window and considered her next task, narrowing her eyes in the haze of blue smoke.

After a while, Aubrey said, Back to the client?

Lola returned to her desk and stubbed out her cigarette. She spun the ebony ashtray in lazy circles as she waited for the operator to put her through.

Global Seas Trading Company.

Yes, Mrs. Kane, it’s Lola Starke. Do you have a minute?

You have news? Kane’s voice caught on the last word.

Lola cursed silently. No, I’m sorry. I’m still working through the leads. She updated Kane. Which police station did you file your report with?

A fractional pause. Pardon?

Yesterday, you said you’d file a missing persons report after we spoke. Do you recall the officer’s name? And the file number as well, please.

Lola heard Kane draw in a deep breath.

Mrs. Kane?

I lied.

Come again?

I didn’t file a report. They’d only take down the bare minimum and file it away. I have plenty of experience with that type of prejudice, believe me. I couldn’t bear that hostility again. Not when I’m so worried as it is. I’m sorry. She finished in a rush.

Lola exhaled sharply. I don’t work with clients who lie to me. I can return the remainder of your retainer, minus the day’s worth of work. I can’t refer you to another investigator, however, not in good conscience. My reputation would be on the line.

Please, don’t. Please. Kane stumbled over the word again. Just…please come see me. I need to talk in person. If, she hesitated, if after I’ve had my say, you still want to quit this case, then you can return the rest of my money. But please, not until you’ve heard me out. She named a noodle house by the northern docks. Give me an hour. I promise I’ll come clean.

Lola hesitated, considered the desperation in Kane’s voice.

Lola, said Aubrey, voice quiet, this isn’t worth the trouble. There will be other easy cases. Perhaps you need more time to recover from the fire—

Fine, I’ll be there, Lola said into the telephone.

Kane thanked her once more and they rang off.

Ignoring Aubrey’s heavy sigh, Lola flicked open her inlaid box and selected another cigarette.

d

As Lola suspected, the noodle house was a corner shop short on décor, long on attitude. A line of rough-looking men waited outside to order from the counter set into a window on one wall under an awning faded to grey-brown. A few looked Lola up and down, eyes narrowing at her expensive shoes and purse, the tailored cut of her clothing. Others grinned broadly at her, elbowing their companions. She stared them down before stepping inside, followed by a chorus of whistles. She paused to let her eyes adjust to the comparative dimness. Five tables, one waitress, black hair pulled into a tight bun. The woman frowned, staring up at Lola.

You lost? Her English was clipped, impatient.

Two please. Lola used her most polite Cantonese.

The waitress raised her brows, then shrugged. Want tea?

She pointed up at the chalkboard menu, switching to Cantonese equally as curt as her English.

Lola nodded and sat facing the restaurant entrance, beside the kitchen at the only free table. She heard Aubrey greeting other ghosts, his voice cordial and cool. Four other patrons turned to stare at her. Lola made a point of giving polite nods to the other hosts.

Behind her came shouts and the clatter of bowls and pans. She craned her neck around, saw three people in the kitchen bustling to fill the orders from the sidewalk window. An old woman scrubbed and washed bowls, stacking them clean and wet.

She’s fast. Aubrey sounded admiring.

Lola turned back to the restaurant entrance.

A man sat alone near the front door, slurping noodles, his back against the front wall. The table was tucked into the corner, under a cheap print of a traditional mountain scene. The man’s hair was shaved down to bare inches on his scalp, his nose and face broad. He stared at Lola as he ate. She gave him her best blank face.

A woman strode in the front door, her face shadowed by a wide-brimmed straw hat. She stopped just inside the doorway, removed the hat, and scanned the interior. The hat’s green ribbon tails fluttered as the woman fanned her face.

Calla. The waitress smiled, her voice alight with warmth.

The man gave Calla’s backside the once over, swallowed his mouthful of food, and took a drink from his tea cup. He sat back, broad shoulders and muscled arms stretching the fabric of his beige tunic as he crossed his arms over his chest. He stuck a toothpick into his mouth and rolled it around from one side to the other.

Kane touched the waitress lightly on the arm. Hello, Lin. Place is hopping today. She peered around the restaurant.

Lola raised her hand in a brief wave.

Kane smiled at the waitress and pointed. I see my friend. She hung her hat by its string on the coat stand left of the door.

Lin turned and stared at Lola.

Behind Lin, the man did the same.

Lola met the frank appraisal with a cool expression.

Kane sat across from Lola and clasped her hands on the tabletop. Thank you for trusting me enough to meet here.

I’ve been in worse. They must be good, if that line outside means anything.

Lin approached with another teapot and two more cups, briskly swapping out Lola’s without explanation. Lola tasted the substitution, noting the darker colour and richer flavour. She raised her brows at Lin. The waitress gave her a hard look and took their orders.

I didn’t lie about going to the station, said Kane. "And the desk sergeant truly did say that to me, about Chinese girls and gwai men. She flushed slightly. That’s why I wanted to take a chance on you. I thought I’d have a better chance since you’re a gwai woman."

Mrs. Kane. Lola hesitated, careful with her next words. It’s important that you file a report because it may help in identification. In the event that an unidentified…man comes under scrutiny. She paused again. Due to unfortunate circumstances.

You mean if they find a dead body. Kane shuddered, her expression hardening. I’m not stupid. I know what you mean. But I can’t…I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Not from the police.

Lola narrowed her eyes. Why?

Kane took a breath to speak, but closed her mouth again as she saw  Lin approaching with a tray of food.

Liver and kidneys congee. She placed the bowl in front of Kane. Lola inhaled the comforting smell of softened rice and the rich aroma of organ meats. Lin placed a small dish of chili oil next to the bowl. Then she carefully set down a bowl of noodles in broth before Lola. "Wuntun gai-lan."

Kane waited until the waitress was back in the kitchen. She kept her voice low.

"Mrs. Jiang, my employer, the owner of Global Seas, she has an arrangement with the local Tong. It’s nothing special. Just the usual cost of doing business as a trading company in the docks. As I’m the manager now, I’ve taken over…liaising with them. I can’t afford to have police coming around my work, asking questions. This Tong, their sugar boys are nice enough as these things go, but they’d be suspicious, wouldn’t they? Mrs. Jiang is a good person and I enjoy my job. I don’t want to hurt her business."

Lola bit carefully into a hot wuntun. The pork was velvety smooth and savoury with sesame oil. She chewed, watched Kane watching her. You think they’d bump up her payments?

You can bet on it, murmured Aubrey.

Kane nodded, relief clear on her face. Yes, exactly. Or worse, burn her building down as a warning. But it would be a mistake, a misunderstanding. I just don’t think they trust me enough to take my word for it. She carefully sipped at her hot congee. Even if Mrs. Jiang and I weren’t distant cousins, I wouldn’t want to bring something terrible like that upon her.

Lola nodded, ate, and considered. She watched Lin bustle by, with tabs and money and dirty dishes. The two tables closest emptied and refilled with new patrons.

You could’ve told me that outright yesterday. Lola took a final spoonful of the clear broth and leaned away from the table. She laid her chopsticks neatly across the bowl. Why did you lie to me?

Kane swirled her spoon around the remains of her congee, now thickened from cooling. Would you believe force of habit?

Lola shook her head.

Kane sighed. I don’t trust easily. Even if I’m paying for that privilege. I don’t know how much you’ll bend.

You’re telling me now, however. From desperation?

Kane looked away.

Lin paused by the table, her tray filled with dirty bowls. She murmured, Gus wants a word.

Kane stiffened. Lola looked around. The big man by the front door stared back at her, his expression unreadable.

Kane stood. I’ll be right back. Her voice trembled slightly.

Bad news, murmured Aubrey. The ghosts are all quiet.

Gus kept his gaze on Lola as Kane approached him. He kicked out the chair across from him. She sat. He looked at Kane and spoke a few words, then cocked his head just slightly to one side, waiting for her reply. Kane spoke at length, leaning forward. Gus listened, his face like stone. When Kane stilled, he nodded and said something short. Kane leaned back. He got up and left.

Lin began clearing his bowl, chopsticks, and tea cup. She laid a hand on Kane’s shoulder briefly before taking the dishes into the kitchen. She gave Lola a dark look as she went by.

Kane remained at the front table, her back stiff. After a few moments, she returned to her seat across from Lola and drank her tea cup dry. She took a sharp breath, met Lola’s eyes. You’re my best chance at finding Lewis.

Lola waited. Kane refilled her tea.

Mrs. Kane, who was that?

Kane took a shaky breath. "Gus Chong heads the Tong that Mrs. Jiang pays money to. They own the northern docks area."

What did he want?

To know what’s going on. Why you and I are meeting. If it jeopardizes him in any way. Kane paused. "There aren’t many gwai in this area. He’s suspicious."

What did you tell him?

The truth. Kane poured tea for them both, then drained her cup again.

Lola said, That was enough to satisfy his curiosity?

It has nothing to do with him. He doesn’t care.

Lola waited for more. Kane gave a weak smile.

"What did he say right before