Preview: The Necromancer's Gambit, Part 4
Here's part 4 of your intro to The Necromancer's Gambit, due September 23rd. The Necromancer's Gambit follows the travails of a cell of mages operating in Portland.
Previously:
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 1
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 2
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 3
The Necromancer's Gambit, Part 4, The Investigation, continued
The bouncer is a few inches north of six foot, and with his shaved head looks like Mr. Clean. He has a sternness to him, like he’d prefer to crack your skull to talking, but there’s a childlike glee in his eyes- he enjoys playing the heavy, but play is all it is.
“Did you touch anything in the room?” I ask it flat- not quite mean, just cold. I haven’t figured out what kind of witness he’s going to be just yet.
“No.” He’s incredulous, almost laughing at the implication he’s involved.
“Not even the victim? Not to check for a pulse?”
He slows up, recognizes someone sizing him up, and levels his eyes at me- not menacing, but fixing me with his eyes to tell me he’s being polite right now instead of talking with his fists. “He’s a kebab. I also didn’t check my bacon at breakfast for a pulse- or my burger at dinner.”
“Bacon and burgers? Not going to live long that way.” His eyebrows shoot up. Pawn laughs, because between the two of us we justify keeping a Burgerville open 24 hours- the manager on MLK told us as much one night- whereas Tim's built like a Finnish underwear model.
“And who was here?”
“Just the stiff.”
“Why was the champagne room empty?”
“In this economy, we don’t always staff the room. Bringing in girls who can’t make cab fare during their shift - let alone cover the stage fee- that’s not fair.”
“Stage fee?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty standard. The venue charges a dancer a flat stage fee to perform, to me always seemed more honest than taking a cut. A lot of the clubs in Portland will hold the good shifts hostage unless girls commit to working dead weekday shifts. But they’re more dependent on dancers than we are. We cater to a slightly more diverse crowd.”
“So you’re not just the bouncer.”
“Part owner, now. I started bouncing, and back then room and board was part of the compensation. Then the recession hit and things started going lousy, Trish began paying me in shares of the club. Eventually I just owned half- so now it’s half mine and I work here for a cut of the profits- which is usually just enough to cover my tab at the bar, plus the cot and hots.”
“Was all that before or after you started shtupping Trish.”
He blushes a little, which is even easier to tell with his cue ball head. “Uh, I think I had about a 40 percent stake, then. We’d worked together for seven years or so. She tends bar, and I bounce, seven nights a week. Spend that much time with somebody and you either really get to appreciate them, or really start to hate them.”
“So you’re plowing the bartender, congrats,” Pawn says. “That part of your compensation package make up for the lost pay?”
“I could pop you like the hairy little zit that you are,” Tim says, without ever losing the glee in his eyes. I bet he could- and it kind of makes me want Pawn to keep provoking him.
But when he doesn’t, I continue with the questions. “That does muddy the waters, though. If your girlfriend is your alibi for not being in the room when it happened.”
“Ask around. The place wasn’t exactly empty when it happened. Just about any table should have at least one person who can vouch for me.” I nod at Pawn and he heads back to the main room to find out.
“You weren’t in the room. What’d you hear?”
“Loud pop. Like a car backfiring, or a gunshot. I actually got a little scared it was a gunshot.”
“This place got a gun?”
“Under the bar.”
“And you didn’t get it?”
He smiles, that kind of smile that says he knows he did something foolish. “Well, I’m four steps down the hall when I think I should get the gun. But then you have me turning tail away from trouble- which never looks good- a bouncer lives or dies on his reputation. And it would showcase me second-guessing myself, which makes me look like an indecisive fool.”
“In front of Trish.”
He blushes all over again. “Yeah. So I tell myself I’ve never had to pull the shotgun before, tonight can’t be the night I’ll need to. Denial to save my pride- and I’m sure Trish will give me an earful tonight about it. But I bust in. And there’s the corpse. I’m relieved, actually, not to have a gun in my face. So I come out all calm, shrug at people looking to me for some kind of information, and tell Trish we’ll want to put in a call to you. But then I see somebody at the bar, somebody I remember seeing with your stout friend.” He nods at where Pawn had been standing a moment ago.
“The vamp?” Pawn comes back in, and nods that he’s got confirmation.
“Yeah. So the vamp sniffs out the area, and of course there’s magic in the air. But before I can even get back to Trish to put through a call, your Pawn shows up.”
“Before?”
“Hey, I was in the car, in the area. On my way to a strip club, if you need to know, but I wasn’t more than three minute’s distance.” That seems too convenient. But I’d seen enough of Pawn’s expense reports to know he probably didn’t have a CI he didn’t wine and dine in strip joints.
“So am I done here?” Tim asks.
“I think so. But we’ll need to get the body out. You mind doing the honors?”
“I was hoping to go home not smelling like old jerky tonight.”
“And I was hoping not to catch a corpse. Tonight seems to suck all around.”
Check back next week for another excerpt or join my mailing list to be notified when The Necromancer's Gambit is available for purchase.
Previously:
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 1
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 2
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 3
The Necromancer's Gambit, Part 4, The Investigation, continued
The bouncer is a few inches north of six foot, and with his shaved head looks like Mr. Clean. He has a sternness to him, like he’d prefer to crack your skull to talking, but there’s a childlike glee in his eyes- he enjoys playing the heavy, but play is all it is.
“Did you touch anything in the room?” I ask it flat- not quite mean, just cold. I haven’t figured out what kind of witness he’s going to be just yet.
“No.” He’s incredulous, almost laughing at the implication he’s involved.
“Not even the victim? Not to check for a pulse?”
He slows up, recognizes someone sizing him up, and levels his eyes at me- not menacing, but fixing me with his eyes to tell me he’s being polite right now instead of talking with his fists. “He’s a kebab. I also didn’t check my bacon at breakfast for a pulse- or my burger at dinner.”
“Bacon and burgers? Not going to live long that way.” His eyebrows shoot up. Pawn laughs, because between the two of us we justify keeping a Burgerville open 24 hours- the manager on MLK told us as much one night- whereas Tim's built like a Finnish underwear model.
“And who was here?”
“Just the stiff.”
“Why was the champagne room empty?”
“In this economy, we don’t always staff the room. Bringing in girls who can’t make cab fare during their shift - let alone cover the stage fee- that’s not fair.”
“Stage fee?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty standard. The venue charges a dancer a flat stage fee to perform, to me always seemed more honest than taking a cut. A lot of the clubs in Portland will hold the good shifts hostage unless girls commit to working dead weekday shifts. But they’re more dependent on dancers than we are. We cater to a slightly more diverse crowd.”
“So you’re not just the bouncer.”
“Part owner, now. I started bouncing, and back then room and board was part of the compensation. Then the recession hit and things started going lousy, Trish began paying me in shares of the club. Eventually I just owned half- so now it’s half mine and I work here for a cut of the profits- which is usually just enough to cover my tab at the bar, plus the cot and hots.”
“Was all that before or after you started shtupping Trish.”
He blushes a little, which is even easier to tell with his cue ball head. “Uh, I think I had about a 40 percent stake, then. We’d worked together for seven years or so. She tends bar, and I bounce, seven nights a week. Spend that much time with somebody and you either really get to appreciate them, or really start to hate them.”
“So you’re plowing the bartender, congrats,” Pawn says. “That part of your compensation package make up for the lost pay?”
“I could pop you like the hairy little zit that you are,” Tim says, without ever losing the glee in his eyes. I bet he could- and it kind of makes me want Pawn to keep provoking him.
But when he doesn’t, I continue with the questions. “That does muddy the waters, though. If your girlfriend is your alibi for not being in the room when it happened.”
“Ask around. The place wasn’t exactly empty when it happened. Just about any table should have at least one person who can vouch for me.” I nod at Pawn and he heads back to the main room to find out.
“You weren’t in the room. What’d you hear?”
“Loud pop. Like a car backfiring, or a gunshot. I actually got a little scared it was a gunshot.”
“This place got a gun?”
“Under the bar.”
“And you didn’t get it?”
He smiles, that kind of smile that says he knows he did something foolish. “Well, I’m four steps down the hall when I think I should get the gun. But then you have me turning tail away from trouble- which never looks good- a bouncer lives or dies on his reputation. And it would showcase me second-guessing myself, which makes me look like an indecisive fool.”
“In front of Trish.”
He blushes all over again. “Yeah. So I tell myself I’ve never had to pull the shotgun before, tonight can’t be the night I’ll need to. Denial to save my pride- and I’m sure Trish will give me an earful tonight about it. But I bust in. And there’s the corpse. I’m relieved, actually, not to have a gun in my face. So I come out all calm, shrug at people looking to me for some kind of information, and tell Trish we’ll want to put in a call to you. But then I see somebody at the bar, somebody I remember seeing with your stout friend.” He nods at where Pawn had been standing a moment ago.
“The vamp?” Pawn comes back in, and nods that he’s got confirmation.
“Yeah. So the vamp sniffs out the area, and of course there’s magic in the air. But before I can even get back to Trish to put through a call, your Pawn shows up.”
“Before?”
“Hey, I was in the car, in the area. On my way to a strip club, if you need to know, but I wasn’t more than three minute’s distance.” That seems too convenient. But I’d seen enough of Pawn’s expense reports to know he probably didn’t have a CI he didn’t wine and dine in strip joints.
“So am I done here?” Tim asks.
“I think so. But we’ll need to get the body out. You mind doing the honors?”
“I was hoping to go home not smelling like old jerky tonight.”
“And I was hoping not to catch a corpse. Tonight seems to suck all around.”
Check back next week for another excerpt or join my mailing list to be notified when The Necromancer's Gambit is available for purchase.
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