Chapter 31 Chet #4
Miss Wonder has accompanied Mr. Hathaway to the club every night this weekend.
The second night, she burst out of the club suddenly after she and Mr. Hathaway had a minor spat.
When I reviewed the security footage, I learned she was very upset by Her Majesty’s policy of having the waitstaff entertain the patrons intimately in exchange for monetary tips.
Mr. Hathaway followed her soon after, and the sounds of a distant scuffle reverberated into the Aces lobby.
I’d have gone and investigated myself, but Her Majesty has always insisted I remain chained to this desk during patron hours.
I’m not even allowed to leave for the bathroom.
I only ever leave my station at her own beckoning.
This position has saved me. I no longer live at the Caterpillar Hotel, but rather in a small hovel of my own on the edge of town. But over the years, Her Majesty’s constant presence and meticulous micromanaging style has begun to grate on me.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I ran Aces Underground.
Perhaps with Miss Wonder at my side.
* * *
I’m deeply engrossed in a delightful article in the Chicago Tribune about a mass murder that occurred in Elgin—unrelated to our doings here at Aces—when the Black Door bursts open.
And who should it be but Miss Wonder herself!
But the club doesn’t open for several hours. What is she doing here now?
“Miss Wonder, what are you doing here?”
“Hi, Chet.” She pastes on a smile. “I left my credit card here last night.”
I cock my head. “I noticed you left in a hurry. I hope you didn’t run into…trouble.”
Those noises in the alley last night. I can’t help but wonder what happened. But Miss Wonder is clearly okay, thanks be to Jove. Not a scratch on her.
She dusts off her jacket. “I’m fine now. That’s what matters. And I need to go downstairs and get my credit card. I won’t be a minute.”
I want to let her in because I want to give this woman whatever she wants.
But Her Majesty would have my head—and that’s not just an expression in this case.
“I’m afraid the rules of the club still stand.
Because you are not a member, I cannot allow you inside unless you are a guest of someone on the list.”
“Yes, but I’m not actually going to go to the club. I’m going to settle my tab, turn right back around, and leave. It’ll take thirty seconds.”
I grin. “Even thirty-second visits are against club policy, Miss Wonder.” I shrug. “If you want to come back with Mr. Hathaway or another member, I’ll gladly let you inside.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She points at the door. “I’ve already been down there. Twice now. It’s not like I don’t know what it looks like. Plus, if I never settle my tab, you’ll never get the money for my drinks.”
“One gin and tonic and one dirty vodka martini are hardly enough to put our ledgers in the red.”
“That’s hardly any way to run a—” She stops, narrowing her eyes at me. “Wait, how do you know what our drink orders were?”
I raise my eyebrows. I dare not tell her I’ve been spying on her both nights she’s been here. “It’s my job to know, Miss Wonder.”
“It’s hardly the job of a bouncer to memorize the drinks of his club’s patrons.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m sure you understand by this point that Aces Underground is no normal club.”
“What if I don’t come back with Maddox? You have my credit card—my personal property—and I demand that you allow me to go down and retrieve it.”
“If you don’t want to call Mr. Hathaway or another member to escort you, you’re welcome to call your bank to get a new credit card.”
She slams her hands down on my desk. “This is ridiculous. Just let me go down there, Chet.”
Great Scott. The woman has fire. I already knew that, but this is the first time it’s manifested itself into a violent act. I like it.
This woman is the first person I’ve allowed into Aces who has the power to take down anyone.
Even Her Majesty.
The credit card is clearly a pretext. She wants to check things out in the daylight.
I noticed the Seven of Spades was hovering over her table a lot more than her other patrons last evening. Her Majesty has told me that she’s been exhibiting signs of wavering, that I should keep a special eye on her.
Perhaps there’s something there.
Either way, things have been too tedious for too long.
It’s time to invoke a touch of chaos.
“Tell you what,” I say. “Go on down.”
* * *
Indeed, Miss Wonder sneaked behind the velvet curtains and confronted the Seven. The Seven spoke—actually spoke—to her, despite the rules to the contrary.
Our Queen doesn’t believe in second chances.
The Seven will be dead by dinnertime.
But perhaps this is my chance.
Miss Wonder is a curious little kitty-cat. And the kitty will be back tonight, her claws bared.
And she deserves a little nudge in the right direction.
I already know where Her Majesty will place the head of the Seven.
She picks her spots out in advance, prepares them in case of an unplanned discontinuation of service.
It will be in the little clearing out by Dam Number Four in the nature preserve by the airport—the same one where I met Tim all those years ago.
It was I who suggested that the byproducts of her harvest be entombed there.
I sit down and pen a riddle. I’ll slip it into Mr. Hathaway’s coat this evening whenever the opportunity presents itself.
It’s some of my best work. Without thinking, I sign it with my initials. CAT.
But then I erase them. I don’t want this coming back to bite me if Miss Wonder cocks this up.
But already I know she won’t.
For several reasons. I’ll make some insurance. The last server to be discontinued was the Nine of Diamonds. I keep a deck of cards in my desk at all times, and I’ll slip a Seven of Spades and a Nine of Diamonds into her bag when she returns tonight.
That will seal the deal.
But even without the insurance, I know she will succeed in whichever task she presents herself with.
Because Miss Wonder… She’s my angel.
* * *
All went as planned. I sneaked the playing cards into Miss Wonder’s purse in a small manila envelope when she reached into it for her ID, and I had easy access to Mr. Hathaway’s jacket when he pinned me against the wall upon his exit. A little sleight of hand goes a long way.
Again, he left Aces after Miss Wonder, but this time it was not in the wake of a quarrel. He seemed to be on Miss Wonder’s tail.
It will only be a matter of time before the pieces start falling into place like a king and queen on a chessboard.
* * *
I’m overjoyed when my burner phone rings in the dead of night.
I turn on an app to distort my voice and dictate the second half of the riddle to Miss Wonder. It’s well written, some of my best work.
Now to wait.
What has been set into motion now cannot be stopped.
* * *
A knock at my door.
No one knocks at my door.
I slowly sit up from my inflatable couch and cross the room, look through the peephole.
My heart palpitates as I realize Her Majesty is at my door.
She’s draped in a smart pantsuit, her hair tied back into a ponytail and an enormous pair of stylish sunglasses over her face, but even incognito she’s easy to identify. The fire of her hair is unmistakable.
I open the door. “Rouge?”
She waltzes in without invitation. “Chet, darling. Put on a pot of tea.”
I bow my head. “Of course, my Queen.” I quickly fill a kettle with water and set it on my gas stove. “It will just be a moment.”
“Excellent. I won’t be long.” She sits at my kitchen table and crosses her legs. “I’m afraid I have some troubling news to share.”
“Troubling?” The kettle whistles—it always seems to heat up faster in Her Majesty’s presence—and I pour it over a few teabags into a plain teapot.
“Yes,” she says. “You know Mr. Sinclair, my King of Hearts?”
“Of course.”
“He telephoned me late last night saying that he spotted two silhouetted figures leaving Dam Number Four in the Forest Park reserve in the wee hours of the morning.”
For once I hold back a smile. Mr. Hathaway and Miss Wonder must have figured it out.
“Really?” I pour the tea into two delicate antique cups—housewarming gifts from Her Majesty herself.
“Indeed. Mr. Sinclair then investigated and discovered some of the soil in our rose garden had been disturbed.”
“Could His Majesty be mistaken? After all, Seven’s crown was placed there fairly recently, was it not?”
“Seven’s appendages were placed there the night before, yes,” she continues.
“But it doesn’t take long for the topsoil to dry after it has been exposed to the air.
No more than a few hours. But the soil below Seven’s rosebush was still quite dark, quite moist. Earthworms all about.
Someone had clearly been digging there.”
“Could it have been another King?” I place one of the teacups in front of her.
Her Majesty shakes her head. “It was someone unauthorized.” She stands, paces my small kitchen. “Upon further investigation, Mr. Sinclair realized that Seven’s head had indeed been exhumed.”
I place a hand over my heart. “Great Jupiter.”
It is a faux gesture. Inside my head, I am giggling like a rabid hyena. Finally a change of pace. Finally one of Her Majesty’s meticulously laid plans has a kink in it.
Something to break up the monotony.
Her Majesty approaches me, traces a finger across my jaw. “Do you know anything about this?”
I swallow. “Of course not, my Queen.”
She widens her eyes, looks me up and down.
Her lips curl gently. “You know, Chet. Two of Seven’s organs have been claimed.
An elderly couple over at St. Charles General.
They were going to give up completely on their search for new organs, but then her heart and lungs matched their profiles perfectly. ”
I cock my head.
“One person died so that two people could live,” she says. “Two lives are more important than one life, as I’m sure you understand. Justice is mathematic.”
“I’m not—”