Max's story. (Abandon all hope, ye who want nonfiction posts)
I call myself Maxwell Hydragyrum. I work as more or less a jack-of-all-trades, but the sign on my door brands me as a private investigator- although I also do great party planning. On the morning of the day on which this tale takes place, I was ruminating on my family- and it's a very large one, believe me. We're originally from the Mediterranean area, but we've all lived in the West for quite some time now- some time ago, my father decided that's where all the action was.
I had just received a letter from my half-brother, name of Smith, who lives in Texas now- detailing mostly his much improved relationship with his wife. They've had a long, rocky road, but that was from before we moved over from the Old Country, as my dad likes to jokingly call it. We were all pretty badly behaved then. I like to think that I was one of the better ones, but that's probably wishful thinking. Anyhow, my half-brother Smith was detailing how well they were getting along now, and how he was shoeing horses and repairing machinery on a Texas ranch. Bit of a waste of his metalworking skill, I thought, but I was running a one-man flunky-for-hire show, so I guess I'm not one to complain. He'd included a picture of himself and the wife, caught in the middle of waving at the camera. She was gorgeous as she'd ever been, with her hands resting on the back of his wheelchair. They looked genuinely happy, which is more than I could say for me. I tossed the envelope onto the table with a sour taste in my mouth, and went over to my water cooler to get something to wash it down with when my client walked in.
He was a little nerdy fellow, a full head and a half shorter than me, and wearing a suit that looked like he'd been wearing it for some time. He was very young, most likely barely out of school, and he looked tired and scared, which, I'm sorry to say, excited me, because it meant I might get a case that wasn't spying on a cheating wife for once. I filled my little paper cup full of water and handed it to him, then filled another for myself. Then I went around to the other side of my desk and sat down, making that little circular motion with one hand that indicated he should start talking.
He gulped down the water gratefully, and began to speak.
"My name is Henry Taylor- I'm a lawyer. I...I came to see you about my wife."
I barely stopped myself from sighing and rolling my eyes as he pulled out his wallet. Great. Another divorce case. The picture he showed me was large enough to take up the entire plastic pouch that was supposed to carry change, and the woman that it showed was drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, I've seen gorgeous in my time, and I've seen two women who could even come close to beating this one. One of them was married to my half-brother Smith, waving at the camera with him in the photo on the table. The other was a long time ago, and she turned out to be much more trouble than she was worth. Neither of them had a smile as sweetly innocent as the one in the wallet photo. I suddenly felt quite sorry for the young lawyer whose wife was playing him false. I mirrored his action with the paper cup, and whistled.
"Tough break, man. Why do you think she's cheating?"
The man's face twisted in confusion, and he stared at me and the photograph alternately for about a second each, then it dawned on us simultaneously that I had it wrong.
"No, no, no! That's not it at all. I just came home from a business trip, and my wife was supposed to have the car waiting for me- she didn't. I taxied home and she wasn't there, and a pair of her shoes were missing, as was an outfit she liked to wear when we went out dancing. She'd called on Friday saying she was going to go to a club and dance, but none of her friends had heard from her since. I called the police, and they said they'd get on it, but she hasn't been missing for very long and there's no evidence of foul play, and I figured that I have the money to make sure more people are looking..."
He trailed into miserable silence. I looked at him with sympathy, but asked the inevitable question. "There's no chance that she...well, that she just shacked up with someone, or had a one night stand and lost track of time?"
He looked affronted. "No! Helen and I are very much in love- and besides, she's highly intelligent. If she did...'shack up' with someone, she wouldn't let me suspect like this, and as for a one night stand...it's Monday now."
I raised my eyebrows. Little guy had done his thinking, it would seem- unfortunate, since that's what I was supposed to be doing. I also barely contained a smile at how appropriate Helen's name was. I nodded, then stood up. "Alright. I've got contacts in the police department and out, so I'm just gonna go make a few phone calls and see what progress the case has made or if any of my friends have seen her, OK? Here, lemme take your blazer while I'm at it."
I took the blazer and hung it up on a coat tree, picking at some lint on it in the process. The I stepped into the other room, which did have a phone in it. The phone was not connected to anything. I looked at the lint in my hand. It had, tangled in it, a single red hair, long and thin, just like the woman in the photo had. Still, that proved nothing- maybe Henry just preferred redheads. Time to see whether he was as faithful as he professed. I took the hair to my lab bench and set to work.
After about five minutes of work I started to curse, and believe me, I curse well. Not only were Helen and Henry completely faithful to each other, and quite obviously very much in love, but I had some bad news to break to Henry. When I went to the desk and sat down, though, I couldn't bring myself to break the news to Henry. I sat there in idiotic silence for quite some time before the alternative occurred to me. I had tried it a couple of times before, and it hadn't gone particularly well any time I had, and I was a lot stronger then than I am now. And yet I couldn't bring myself to wipe that trusting look off of Henry's face, so I spoke.
"Henry- you love your wife?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"Well, then, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but she's in a lot of trouble. She strayed into a part of town where she shouldn't have on Friday, Henry." I watched his face crumple with despair, but broke in again. "She's not dead. She's just in trouble- as bad as can be. She's held, I think, in a really bad bar by a guy who's really bad news, Henry. Rich and dangerous. The police can't reach her there."
He looked me square in the eye, trying to determine whether I was lying, whether I was trying to bilk him, but my stare was just as unblinking as his, and free of prevarication. My skill at lying is legendary, in the right circles, and besides I wasn't lying much. The best lie has a lot of truth in it, and there was only one falsehood in my previous sentence- practically undetectable when uttered by a skilled bullshitter such as my humble self. My clear, honest gaze appeared to pass muster, and he nodded his understanding. "So what can we do?"
I grinned the impish grin which I was famous for, once upon a time, and leaned back in my chair. "We can rescue her ourselves, Henry."
He raised an eyebrow. "How? If the police can't get in there..."
I rummaged around in my desk and tossed him one of my business cards- one of the little-used ones, for my party planning service. At some point in the past, another half-brother (I have lots) had really shown me how to throw a bash, and I used that knowledge to my advantage. To my delight, one pleased customer gave me a testimonial-'He really knows how to throw a flashy party. He goes psycho with the pomp and glitz." I nearly pissed myself laughing when I put that on the back of the business card, and had to restrain another smile at the sight of the card now.
Henry, on the other hand, didn't get it. "How does THIS help us?"
I grinned and told another whopper. "I did a bash for this guy one time. He knows me- I'm practically the only guy who can come and go from his place as I please." Yet another whopper, yet more truth. Damn, I'm good at this. "You can be...my apprentice, or...my lawyer! Yeah, that'll work. Now, we need to get ready. I'll order us a pizza, and we should head there around nine. Here." I threw some bills onto the table, "Order from... Fitz's Pizza, the pamphlet's pinned to the corkboard. I gotta make a few more calls."
I went into my little back room and picked up my phone that wasn't connected to anything. I didn't dial- there was no need. After a second, some one the other end picked up. "Wzl? Whozzat?"
"Di? Is that you?"
"Max? You know it's two in the morning, right?"
"I know. I need to talk to our Pal- it's important."
"Fine, fine. Only because it's you, you know?"
"I know. I love you, Di."
"Charmer."
After a brief silence, Di hung up the phone and Pal picked up. Of all my half sisters, I like Pal the best. She was always nice to me when I was a kid, even though I was a little brat- precocious as hell. She says I was talking back to her right out of the cradle. Her slightly sleepy voice spoke.
"What do you need, Max?"
"Can't I just be calling to bask in your glory again?
"It's two in the morning, Max. Flattery is NOT going to work on me. What do you need?"
I sigh. "You ruin all my fun. I need..It."
I can practically HEAR her eyes widen on the other end. "What the hell for?"
"Trust me. Please? I'll make it up to you, I swear..."
A sigh. "Fine. But don't fuck around with it! I was supposed to keep it safe!"
"I love you, Pal."
"Just be careful, OK? Goodnight."
Click. I hung up the phone which was hooked up to nothing and walked to a little box on my lab bench. I opened it, and it, as though they'd always been there, were a pair of mirrored sunglasses with a curious decoration on the bridge- a silver woman's head. I rummaged underneath the bench and took out a shoebox, and so armed, walked back into my office.
Henry was there, with pizza at the ready. Good service, Fitz's. "Mr. Hydra-"
I cut him off. "Just Hydragyrum will do."
"That wouldn't be respectful."
I nod. "As you like."
"What happens now? I mean, what's the plan?"
""What happens now, is you take these," I gestured at the items I had brought with me, "and you put the sunglasses in your pocket and the shoes on your feet. Then I eat this pizza, and we wait till nine."
"I can't possibly wear your shoes- they must be way too large!"
I stood up and crossed over to him, and compared my shoes to his. Same size exactly. Then I sat down and ate pizza without a word, washing it down with water from my cooler. At 8:30, I spoke again. "Where we're going is obscenely dangerous. Don't eat anything he offers you, don't drink anything he offers you. If you do, you might not walk out again." Truth and lies hand in hand. I love it. This is why I let myself try this crap again. "When we're there, do exactly as I say, not as I do. I have special privilege there- you don't. All of this is to let you and your wife both walk out of there again, OK? When we're inside, put on those sunglasses and don't take them off, fashion travesty of sunglasses indoor at nighttime be damned. If we get separated, go straight for your wife, and get out. Don't let anything stop you, OK?"
He nodded, a determined look on his face. Looked like this wimpy little lawyer had steel in him. Good.
At nine we stood in front of a shady pool hall. It had a big neon sign with the face of Mickey Mouse's dog in front of the words 'Pool Hall', but the word 'Pool' had ceased to be illuminated. In front was a big guy wearing a leather jacket with a face like a pit bull, and a little bit bull metal ornament on each shoulder. I knew him, and had for a long time.
"'Sup, Max? You visting the boss?"
"Yeah-with guest. And he's leaving again, too, so don't get any bright ideas."
"Can't let it happen, Max. You know only you and the boss and his missus come and go freely. Anyone else...heh heh...needs a pass."
I sighed. Looks like the loyal dog was still as he was. Fortunately, I can lie like a champ, and another name for lying is bullshit. I began to spin an elaborate tale around Doggy, involving a large sum of money and his boss, and I made it as dry and boring as I possibly could. After ten minutes, he looked glazed. After twenty, his lids were heavy. After thirty, he was snoring on the pavement. Henry looked impressed, and I shrugged and opened the door.
Inside was a dingy pool hall, as expected. The bar served only one thing, a black drink that the bartender guaranteed would make you forget your troubles, and he meant every word of it. The pool players drifted around, apparently aimless, with eyes that looked right through us. I looked around for the inevitable, and there he was. The Boss. He was dressed in a good suit, black as night and unornamented except for a little lapel pin- the same thing as was on the sign outside. Mickey's dog's head. He always did have a silly sense of humour.
"Max! What are you doing here, buddy? You've been neglecting your duties to me, lately. Who's this? One more for the pool hall?"
I shook my head. "Nope. A client. He's looking for someone."
The Boss had never looked as terrible or cold as he did at that moment, and it was then that I remembered that he had never wanted this position- he had taken it as a forfeit for coming last in a draw. I wondered if he wanted to do what I wanted, if his duties to the hall kept him from cooperating. I gave Henry a little shove towards the door at the back of the bar, and he staggered off- which is when, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that he wasn't yet wearing the shades. I cursed and returned to locking stares with The Boss, and held out my hand defiantly. "You know what I'm here for, and you owe me for my previous work. I'm collecting. Give!"
The Boss' stare bored into me-long, terrible, cold, and slow. Then, moving more smoothly than any human, he reached behind the bar and pulled out a small, bright red bottle, that he put into my hand. "On the condition, of course, that your man wins."
I could only nod my assent and watch as Henry tapped the shoulder of the dreadlocked woman guarding the back door. Her dreads were swaying as though in the breeze, even though there was no wind in the hall. As she turned, obviously inebriated, Henry remembered the damned glasses. He looked away, put them on, and looked up at the woman. The hall was silent for a second, punctuated only by the crash as the woman fell over, her dreadlocks still swinging in a nonexistant breeze.
Seconds stretched into minutes, and Henry didn't come out of the back room. Then the door burst open, and Henry came out, staggering under the weight of a woman taller than he was- unmistakably his Helen. The Boss made a gesture, and the pool players arose as one, unmistakably blocking Henry's path. The Boss looked smug, and I kept my expression carefully neutral. When he came to the wall of pool players, Henry made as if to leap- and soared over their heads on unseen wings, and then neatly out the door. When The Boss turned to me in fury, I merely tipped my hat, and said, "Be seeing you."
We didn't stop running until we were back at the office, and even with Henry's newfound celerity, he could not beat me there. Helen, when he let her down onto the office floor, was still pale and cold, until I poured the contents of the bottle down her throat. Her colour and conciousness returned then. She looked around in confusion, and said to Henry, "I remember going out on Friday, and to the club, and I remember walking home when..." She trailed off then, and grew pale, and looked like she might scream, until I took her by the shoulders.
"It's all right- that can't harm you now. Or rather, it already has, and your husband has done some rather remarkable things behind that closed door to undo it, I'm sure of it. Nothing but love for you could have brought him through the mists, and the things he saw in them, behind that door to you and out again."
Henry looked at me in terror. "How did you know about the things in the mist? How did I jump over those pool players?"
I smiled. "The shoes." I pointed, and each black dress shoe had a golden emblem of a wing set into the sides, near the laces.
Henry went pale. "Who are you?"
"I told you," I said slowly, "to call me Hydragyrum."
Then something must have gone click in Henry's mind, and maybe he looked at the night's events in a new light, because he looked at his wife, and said, "Hydragyrum. Of course. Remember how we abbreviate that, dear?"
She looked at me, and I swore I heard the second click. Hottest thing I'd seen in years, and well read. Well done, Henry. She whispered, "Oh my God..."
"What is it?" I asked.
Henry looked at me with suspicion. "What do you want?"
"Well, if this were the bad old days, I'd probably want a night with your wife, who is by the way the hottest thing I've seen since who knows when- hang on to her tight this time. But this ain't the bad old days, and I'd like to think I'm better than that now. No, you can consider this one pro bono publico, since it would be a shame to lose a woman that beautiful. But there is one thing I'd like from you both, if I may..."
I leaned down close and whispered something into both of their ears. A single word, rhymes with relief. Then I nodded and smiled at them, went back to my desk, called a cab for Henry from the desk phone (asking their address was unneccessary, and there was no longer any reason to pretend), and ate my pizza. Henry and his wife went home without further trouble, and in the due course of time, I went to bed.
The next morning, born of pure impulse, I tried something I hadn't been able to do in years. I put a coin on my desk, and passed a hand over it. When my hand left, the coin was gone. I tried it over my whole body, then went searching for my mirror. I couldn't see myself. What I could do was feel the impish grin that I was famous for spreading across my face. It was a new day, and for the first time in a long, LONG time, I was truly back in business.
I had just received a letter from my half-brother, name of Smith, who lives in Texas now- detailing mostly his much improved relationship with his wife. They've had a long, rocky road, but that was from before we moved over from the Old Country, as my dad likes to jokingly call it. We were all pretty badly behaved then. I like to think that I was one of the better ones, but that's probably wishful thinking. Anyhow, my half-brother Smith was detailing how well they were getting along now, and how he was shoeing horses and repairing machinery on a Texas ranch. Bit of a waste of his metalworking skill, I thought, but I was running a one-man flunky-for-hire show, so I guess I'm not one to complain. He'd included a picture of himself and the wife, caught in the middle of waving at the camera. She was gorgeous as she'd ever been, with her hands resting on the back of his wheelchair. They looked genuinely happy, which is more than I could say for me. I tossed the envelope onto the table with a sour taste in my mouth, and went over to my water cooler to get something to wash it down with when my client walked in.
He was a little nerdy fellow, a full head and a half shorter than me, and wearing a suit that looked like he'd been wearing it for some time. He was very young, most likely barely out of school, and he looked tired and scared, which, I'm sorry to say, excited me, because it meant I might get a case that wasn't spying on a cheating wife for once. I filled my little paper cup full of water and handed it to him, then filled another for myself. Then I went around to the other side of my desk and sat down, making that little circular motion with one hand that indicated he should start talking.
He gulped down the water gratefully, and began to speak.
"My name is Henry Taylor- I'm a lawyer. I...I came to see you about my wife."
I barely stopped myself from sighing and rolling my eyes as he pulled out his wallet. Great. Another divorce case. The picture he showed me was large enough to take up the entire plastic pouch that was supposed to carry change, and the woman that it showed was drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, I've seen gorgeous in my time, and I've seen two women who could even come close to beating this one. One of them was married to my half-brother Smith, waving at the camera with him in the photo on the table. The other was a long time ago, and she turned out to be much more trouble than she was worth. Neither of them had a smile as sweetly innocent as the one in the wallet photo. I suddenly felt quite sorry for the young lawyer whose wife was playing him false. I mirrored his action with the paper cup, and whistled.
"Tough break, man. Why do you think she's cheating?"
The man's face twisted in confusion, and he stared at me and the photograph alternately for about a second each, then it dawned on us simultaneously that I had it wrong.
"No, no, no! That's not it at all. I just came home from a business trip, and my wife was supposed to have the car waiting for me- she didn't. I taxied home and she wasn't there, and a pair of her shoes were missing, as was an outfit she liked to wear when we went out dancing. She'd called on Friday saying she was going to go to a club and dance, but none of her friends had heard from her since. I called the police, and they said they'd get on it, but she hasn't been missing for very long and there's no evidence of foul play, and I figured that I have the money to make sure more people are looking..."
He trailed into miserable silence. I looked at him with sympathy, but asked the inevitable question. "There's no chance that she...well, that she just shacked up with someone, or had a one night stand and lost track of time?"
He looked affronted. "No! Helen and I are very much in love- and besides, she's highly intelligent. If she did...'shack up' with someone, she wouldn't let me suspect like this, and as for a one night stand...it's Monday now."
I raised my eyebrows. Little guy had done his thinking, it would seem- unfortunate, since that's what I was supposed to be doing. I also barely contained a smile at how appropriate Helen's name was. I nodded, then stood up. "Alright. I've got contacts in the police department and out, so I'm just gonna go make a few phone calls and see what progress the case has made or if any of my friends have seen her, OK? Here, lemme take your blazer while I'm at it."
I took the blazer and hung it up on a coat tree, picking at some lint on it in the process. The I stepped into the other room, which did have a phone in it. The phone was not connected to anything. I looked at the lint in my hand. It had, tangled in it, a single red hair, long and thin, just like the woman in the photo had. Still, that proved nothing- maybe Henry just preferred redheads. Time to see whether he was as faithful as he professed. I took the hair to my lab bench and set to work.
After about five minutes of work I started to curse, and believe me, I curse well. Not only were Helen and Henry completely faithful to each other, and quite obviously very much in love, but I had some bad news to break to Henry. When I went to the desk and sat down, though, I couldn't bring myself to break the news to Henry. I sat there in idiotic silence for quite some time before the alternative occurred to me. I had tried it a couple of times before, and it hadn't gone particularly well any time I had, and I was a lot stronger then than I am now. And yet I couldn't bring myself to wipe that trusting look off of Henry's face, so I spoke.
"Henry- you love your wife?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"Well, then, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but she's in a lot of trouble. She strayed into a part of town where she shouldn't have on Friday, Henry." I watched his face crumple with despair, but broke in again. "She's not dead. She's just in trouble- as bad as can be. She's held, I think, in a really bad bar by a guy who's really bad news, Henry. Rich and dangerous. The police can't reach her there."
He looked me square in the eye, trying to determine whether I was lying, whether I was trying to bilk him, but my stare was just as unblinking as his, and free of prevarication. My skill at lying is legendary, in the right circles, and besides I wasn't lying much. The best lie has a lot of truth in it, and there was only one falsehood in my previous sentence- practically undetectable when uttered by a skilled bullshitter such as my humble self. My clear, honest gaze appeared to pass muster, and he nodded his understanding. "So what can we do?"
I grinned the impish grin which I was famous for, once upon a time, and leaned back in my chair. "We can rescue her ourselves, Henry."
He raised an eyebrow. "How? If the police can't get in there..."
I rummaged around in my desk and tossed him one of my business cards- one of the little-used ones, for my party planning service. At some point in the past, another half-brother (I have lots) had really shown me how to throw a bash, and I used that knowledge to my advantage. To my delight, one pleased customer gave me a testimonial-'He really knows how to throw a flashy party. He goes psycho with the pomp and glitz." I nearly pissed myself laughing when I put that on the back of the business card, and had to restrain another smile at the sight of the card now.
Henry, on the other hand, didn't get it. "How does THIS help us?"
I grinned and told another whopper. "I did a bash for this guy one time. He knows me- I'm practically the only guy who can come and go from his place as I please." Yet another whopper, yet more truth. Damn, I'm good at this. "You can be...my apprentice, or...my lawyer! Yeah, that'll work. Now, we need to get ready. I'll order us a pizza, and we should head there around nine. Here." I threw some bills onto the table, "Order from... Fitz's Pizza, the pamphlet's pinned to the corkboard. I gotta make a few more calls."
I went into my little back room and picked up my phone that wasn't connected to anything. I didn't dial- there was no need. After a second, some one the other end picked up. "Wzl? Whozzat?"
"Di? Is that you?"
"Max? You know it's two in the morning, right?"
"I know. I need to talk to our Pal- it's important."
"Fine, fine. Only because it's you, you know?"
"I know. I love you, Di."
"Charmer."
After a brief silence, Di hung up the phone and Pal picked up. Of all my half sisters, I like Pal the best. She was always nice to me when I was a kid, even though I was a little brat- precocious as hell. She says I was talking back to her right out of the cradle. Her slightly sleepy voice spoke.
"What do you need, Max?"
"Can't I just be calling to bask in your glory again?
"It's two in the morning, Max. Flattery is NOT going to work on me. What do you need?"
I sigh. "You ruin all my fun. I need..It."
I can practically HEAR her eyes widen on the other end. "What the hell for?"
"Trust me. Please? I'll make it up to you, I swear..."
A sigh. "Fine. But don't fuck around with it! I was supposed to keep it safe!"
"I love you, Pal."
"Just be careful, OK? Goodnight."
Click. I hung up the phone which was hooked up to nothing and walked to a little box on my lab bench. I opened it, and it, as though they'd always been there, were a pair of mirrored sunglasses with a curious decoration on the bridge- a silver woman's head. I rummaged underneath the bench and took out a shoebox, and so armed, walked back into my office.
Henry was there, with pizza at the ready. Good service, Fitz's. "Mr. Hydra-"
I cut him off. "Just Hydragyrum will do."
"That wouldn't be respectful."
I nod. "As you like."
"What happens now? I mean, what's the plan?"
""What happens now, is you take these," I gestured at the items I had brought with me, "and you put the sunglasses in your pocket and the shoes on your feet. Then I eat this pizza, and we wait till nine."
"I can't possibly wear your shoes- they must be way too large!"
I stood up and crossed over to him, and compared my shoes to his. Same size exactly. Then I sat down and ate pizza without a word, washing it down with water from my cooler. At 8:30, I spoke again. "Where we're going is obscenely dangerous. Don't eat anything he offers you, don't drink anything he offers you. If you do, you might not walk out again." Truth and lies hand in hand. I love it. This is why I let myself try this crap again. "When we're there, do exactly as I say, not as I do. I have special privilege there- you don't. All of this is to let you and your wife both walk out of there again, OK? When we're inside, put on those sunglasses and don't take them off, fashion travesty of sunglasses indoor at nighttime be damned. If we get separated, go straight for your wife, and get out. Don't let anything stop you, OK?"
He nodded, a determined look on his face. Looked like this wimpy little lawyer had steel in him. Good.
At nine we stood in front of a shady pool hall. It had a big neon sign with the face of Mickey Mouse's dog in front of the words 'Pool Hall', but the word 'Pool' had ceased to be illuminated. In front was a big guy wearing a leather jacket with a face like a pit bull, and a little bit bull metal ornament on each shoulder. I knew him, and had for a long time.
"'Sup, Max? You visting the boss?"
"Yeah-with guest. And he's leaving again, too, so don't get any bright ideas."
"Can't let it happen, Max. You know only you and the boss and his missus come and go freely. Anyone else...heh heh...needs a pass."
I sighed. Looks like the loyal dog was still as he was. Fortunately, I can lie like a champ, and another name for lying is bullshit. I began to spin an elaborate tale around Doggy, involving a large sum of money and his boss, and I made it as dry and boring as I possibly could. After ten minutes, he looked glazed. After twenty, his lids were heavy. After thirty, he was snoring on the pavement. Henry looked impressed, and I shrugged and opened the door.
Inside was a dingy pool hall, as expected. The bar served only one thing, a black drink that the bartender guaranteed would make you forget your troubles, and he meant every word of it. The pool players drifted around, apparently aimless, with eyes that looked right through us. I looked around for the inevitable, and there he was. The Boss. He was dressed in a good suit, black as night and unornamented except for a little lapel pin- the same thing as was on the sign outside. Mickey's dog's head. He always did have a silly sense of humour.
"Max! What are you doing here, buddy? You've been neglecting your duties to me, lately. Who's this? One more for the pool hall?"
I shook my head. "Nope. A client. He's looking for someone."
The Boss had never looked as terrible or cold as he did at that moment, and it was then that I remembered that he had never wanted this position- he had taken it as a forfeit for coming last in a draw. I wondered if he wanted to do what I wanted, if his duties to the hall kept him from cooperating. I gave Henry a little shove towards the door at the back of the bar, and he staggered off- which is when, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that he wasn't yet wearing the shades. I cursed and returned to locking stares with The Boss, and held out my hand defiantly. "You know what I'm here for, and you owe me for my previous work. I'm collecting. Give!"
The Boss' stare bored into me-long, terrible, cold, and slow. Then, moving more smoothly than any human, he reached behind the bar and pulled out a small, bright red bottle, that he put into my hand. "On the condition, of course, that your man wins."
I could only nod my assent and watch as Henry tapped the shoulder of the dreadlocked woman guarding the back door. Her dreads were swaying as though in the breeze, even though there was no wind in the hall. As she turned, obviously inebriated, Henry remembered the damned glasses. He looked away, put them on, and looked up at the woman. The hall was silent for a second, punctuated only by the crash as the woman fell over, her dreadlocks still swinging in a nonexistant breeze.
Seconds stretched into minutes, and Henry didn't come out of the back room. Then the door burst open, and Henry came out, staggering under the weight of a woman taller than he was- unmistakably his Helen. The Boss made a gesture, and the pool players arose as one, unmistakably blocking Henry's path. The Boss looked smug, and I kept my expression carefully neutral. When he came to the wall of pool players, Henry made as if to leap- and soared over their heads on unseen wings, and then neatly out the door. When The Boss turned to me in fury, I merely tipped my hat, and said, "Be seeing you."
We didn't stop running until we were back at the office, and even with Henry's newfound celerity, he could not beat me there. Helen, when he let her down onto the office floor, was still pale and cold, until I poured the contents of the bottle down her throat. Her colour and conciousness returned then. She looked around in confusion, and said to Henry, "I remember going out on Friday, and to the club, and I remember walking home when..." She trailed off then, and grew pale, and looked like she might scream, until I took her by the shoulders.
"It's all right- that can't harm you now. Or rather, it already has, and your husband has done some rather remarkable things behind that closed door to undo it, I'm sure of it. Nothing but love for you could have brought him through the mists, and the things he saw in them, behind that door to you and out again."
Henry looked at me in terror. "How did you know about the things in the mist? How did I jump over those pool players?"
I smiled. "The shoes." I pointed, and each black dress shoe had a golden emblem of a wing set into the sides, near the laces.
Henry went pale. "Who are you?"
"I told you," I said slowly, "to call me Hydragyrum."
Then something must have gone click in Henry's mind, and maybe he looked at the night's events in a new light, because he looked at his wife, and said, "Hydragyrum. Of course. Remember how we abbreviate that, dear?"
She looked at me, and I swore I heard the second click. Hottest thing I'd seen in years, and well read. Well done, Henry. She whispered, "Oh my God..."
"What is it?" I asked.
Henry looked at me with suspicion. "What do you want?"
"Well, if this were the bad old days, I'd probably want a night with your wife, who is by the way the hottest thing I've seen since who knows when- hang on to her tight this time. But this ain't the bad old days, and I'd like to think I'm better than that now. No, you can consider this one pro bono publico, since it would be a shame to lose a woman that beautiful. But there is one thing I'd like from you both, if I may..."
I leaned down close and whispered something into both of their ears. A single word, rhymes with relief. Then I nodded and smiled at them, went back to my desk, called a cab for Henry from the desk phone (asking their address was unneccessary, and there was no longer any reason to pretend), and ate my pizza. Henry and his wife went home without further trouble, and in the due course of time, I went to bed.
The next morning, born of pure impulse, I tried something I hadn't been able to do in years. I put a coin on my desk, and passed a hand over it. When my hand left, the coin was gone. I tried it over my whole body, then went searching for my mirror. I couldn't see myself. What I could do was feel the impish grin that I was famous for spreading across my face. It was a new day, and for the first time in a long, LONG time, I was truly back in business.