Friday, February 29, 2008

Chapter 8

When she stopped laughing, Regina looked at her watch. “Look, Dash, thanks for lunch and all, but we have business to attend to.”

Dashiell signaled for the check, then turned back to Regina. “Oh ye of little faith. I’ve been working.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”

“Sure.” Dashiell pointed out the large window they were seated next to, towards Regina’s car. “You see the old Chinese gentleman entering the shop?”

She nodded.

“That’s my contact. I noticed when we pulled up that the shop was marked ‘Closed.’ We needed to kill some time until he came back, and I figured lunch would be a good way to do that.” The waitress returned with the check, and Dashiell reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He left a 21% tip, then signaled to the door with a nod of his head. “Shall we?”

She nodded, rising from the table and leading the way out the door.

They crossed the street and Dashiell held the door open for Regina. The shop was underlit, with the smell of incense thick in the air. It was decorated in a strong Asian theme, with paintings of demons and dragons on the walls. There were assorted odd curios throughout the shop. Behind the counter sat the old man that Dashiell had pointed out. He was Asian, with a long white beard, reminiscent of Fu Manchu. He was that indefinable sort of old, between 60 and 3000. He looked up as he heard them enter.

“Welcome, welcome. Please come inside.” His English was very good. He had a slight accent, but one could almost believe he had been raised in the United States.

Dashiell had paused for a moment on entering, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then approached the counter. “Hello Frank. How are you?”

“I am doing well, Agent Aldridge. And yourself?”

“I’m fine Frank. But you should know by now it’s not Agent Aldridge. Just Dashiell. Allow me to introduce Detective Regina Robins, Metro Police. Regina, this is Frank Chen.”

Regina offered her hand, with a raised eyebrow. “Frank?”

He shook her hand with his own, the skin feeling like old parchment. “It’s my American name. I find it easier to use than my birth name, at least when dealing with Americans. What can I do for you today?”

Dashiell took the lead. “What can you tell me about tiger organs?”

“Tiger organs…. They are used for virility and fertility. Why? Looking for some help?” He eyed Regina up and down.

“Don’t be crude, Frank. Anything else you can use them for?”

“Well, various parts of the tiger have been used in folk remedies for centuries. Back home, there is a thriving black market in tiger organs. You don’t see much call for them here though. First, they’re hard to come by. Second, most folks who live here have become acculturated. They use Western medicine.”

“So who would be interested in tiger parts?” Regina asked.

“Well, in all honesty, if I could get my hands on some, I wouldn’t object. Some people will pay handsomely for the old remedies,” Frank said.

“How handsomely?” she asked.

“Well, if you rationed it carefully, and had a large specimen, you could make several thousand dollars from traditional remedies.”

Dashiell whistled. “Look Frank, I’ll level with you. Someone killed one of the tigers at the zoo last night. Cleaned out the torso. If you hear anything about someone suddenly peddling the home remedies, will you let me know?”

Frank nodded. “Of course, Agent Aldridge. You know I always cooperate with law enforcement.”

“Good,” Dashiell said. “Then I assume that means you know nothing about it?”

Frank looked innocent. “Of course not, Agent Aldridge. I try to get all my ingredients legally. All the money in the world does me no good if I spend it on legal fees.”

Dashiell chose to ignore that. “Very well then. Any idea whe—“

Just then, Regina’s phone rang. She looked apologetic as she pulled it out and answered it. “Yes?....Alright. I’ll be right there.” She turned back towards Dashiell and Frank. “Sorry about that. Dash, I have to run. Will you be okay getting back to your office?”

He nodded. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. That was dispatch. Apparently another body’s turned up.”

Next>

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Nicely done.

The only thing I would have done differently is that I would have made the tip something superstitious. Like he always leaves 13%, or 14, 0r 21, some number of significance. It's the little layered details that make the difference.

Allan T Michaels said...

Ah, you know, I hadn't even considered that. I just wanted to make it clear that Dash is a generous tipper. But I will consider changing it.

Anonymous said...

You put so much detail and thought into your introduction of the character, even the way he tied his hankerchief. I think consistency with superstitions just makes sense, and also leaves room for some comic relief at certain points.

ie: Dash, they're shooting at us! Do you really have to do that now?

Hey, I spilled the salt! I have to throw it over my shoulder, it decreases the chances we'll get hit by stray bullets!

Allan T Michaels said...

Yeah, I changed the tip amount. And trust me. His obsessive needs to obey superstition will definately come out in a similar way in the future.

Anonymous said...

OOhhhh excellent choice, 21. It contains 3, the most mystical number, and 7, the most spiritual. Works for me.