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Stainless Steel Sleuth

PART 1: A BAD NIGHT FOR A BAD DEAL

It was two shots of whiskey past midnight, and neither the casefiles I was organizing nor my sour attitude were anywhere near blurry enough yet.

The cheating-husband photos drummed on my patience like the rain on the window behind me. I sat at my desk, poured myself another shot of bourbon, and looked at it in the yellow lamplight. The flickering of the Stout's Alley streetlights through the streaked window turned the drink into fire in my palm. Hopefully it would burn just as much going down. But before I could knock it back, the door of my office got a knock of its own.

A moment later, Kei Lo opened the door and stuck his head in. "Ma'am, there's a- um- a client. Are you available?"

I was about to tell my overpaid secretary that suspicious wives could wait for normal business hours and/or for me to get over my latest hangover, but then her voice rang out in sharp Chinese:

"Mai! I never would have expected you to become a private investigator, of all things. But seeing it now, it suits you. Nice office."

Princess Hinote Azula pushed past Kei Lo in a strut that strained her glistening black dress. Judging from Kei Lo's gaze, it was straining his pulmonary system, too. Hers was the rolling motion of a tiger stalking its prey, a level of confidence and power that she didn't have back when we were teenagers. Apparently, over the last two decades, Azula had acquired a bit of maturity in addition to some nice Western clothes.

I put my bottle of bourbon back in its desk drawer. This didn't seem like the time to introduce Asian royalty to Kentucky bourbon- not even Old Forester. Plus, there was no longer any need to slow down my own thoughts to keep up with the dreary day-to-day of a private dick's business. On the contrary, if Azula was here, I'd probably need to speed up my thinking. And maybe my trigger-finger.

Azula always kept things exciting, and twenty years had probably only made her better at it.

Instead, I found a pack of Camels and offered one as I stood in greeting. People didn't bow in America, not even here in the Enclave in Southern California. Still, offering a handshake seemed wrong. I found myself speaking English to her: "Welcome to my practice. It's after business hours, but my door is always open to you. Cigarette?"

Azula gave a shake of her head as she tucked herself into the chair on the other side of my desk. "I'm ever so glad to hear it," she said in English that was a smooth as her dark stockings, although her strong accent betrayed her lack of practice. She crossed her legs and laid her hands on her knee. "Your assistant is cute. Do you ever fool around with him?"

Kei Lo's squeak came just before the click of door, and then I was alone with my second-oldest friend.

"Not without at least six shots of whiskey in my stomach." I put the cigarette she had refused between my lips and took the time to light it before sitting down. "How's New Manchukuo?"

"Stronger than ever. The war is going well, thanks to the support and funds that our allies abroad are raising. In fact, one of my tasks here is to deliver a letter from my father to yours acknowledging the glorious contribution he made in purchasing those howitzers for us."

I could just imagine the ecstatic grins that my parents would be suppressing. "We live to serve, but you bring us a great reward. It can feel very remote here, just getting our updates before the Porky Pig cartoons." I took a drag from my cigarette.

"Well, you can take pleasure in the news that it won't be long before the Chinese surrender, Father says. Then we can turn our attention to showing the Japanese Emperor who truly is destined to rule the East. By the time Europe notices, Father will probably be halfway into Russia." Her red lips parted in a grin that was all teeth. "And you? How is life in America? You're still unmarried?"

That's two references to my love life, or lack thereof. A suspicious detective-type could start getting ideas, if she was so inclined. Romance wasn't one of my decadent thrills of choice, certain related activities notwithstanding. The only exception was that little torch -- more of a cheap lighter, really -- I'd carried back in my childhood-

But I never thought about him. Not these days.

I leaned my chair back against the rain-lashed window. "If I'm married, no one told me. But my brother is engaged to a blonde girl in New York. He went there for school- wanted to expand his horizons. I guess he has."

Azula gave a little sniff, setting the smoke from my cigarette swirling in front of her face. "He wouldn't remember when you lived in Manchukuo. I expect he's starved for culture here in America. Too bad for him that Europe is such a mess right now."

She said that as if her father's imperial ambitions didn't have Japan, China, and most of the surrounding civilization in war-torn turmoil. But then, I'm sure she considered it everyone else's fault for not recognizing Ozai's divine right to throw a hissy-fit whenever he didn't get his way. How the man persuaded the Japanese government to set him up in Manchukuo is beyond me, but they've certainly been paying for it.

No one had paid me, yet, so I was content to leave that mystery alone. Snooping where I'm not being paid is a good way to end up bleeding out on a floor somewhere. I exhaled another stream of smoke. "How long will you be in America? I can show you around."

The claws of Azula's gaze emerged to swipe at my attention. "I have other work that needs to be done. With Father's power increasing, he's decided it's time to secure his legacy." She switched back to Chinese to add, "Does your secretary speak this?"

I nodded. "But he doesn't speak Japanese," I suggested in that language.

Azula's Japanese was flawless, of course. "Father has given me a mission. Family is suddenly very important to him. I've been asked to bring Zuko home."

Zuko.

Home?

I pulled my Camel out of my mouth before I could choke on it. "Zuko's here? In America? In-"

Azula just smiled at me.

Bits of truth tumbled down onto my head from somewhere above, hard-edged things that should have been tucked safely on a dusty shelf somewhere. "You want me to find him. That's why you're here."

She switched back to English for, "Yes, well, you do know the area and its ways." Her head gave a little tilt. "I doubt the American government would appreciate my soldiers kicking in doors and shooting anyone who won't talk, as efficient as that would be."

I stuck my cigarette back in my mouth and took it to town. What was Zuko doing here? His banishment terms were that he would have no home, would have to keep seeking a way to prove his worth and bravery until forgiven by his father. Europe and its war was the obvious place for that, but the world was filled with so much chaos- how would he have ended up in California of all places? I was here because China had lost a chunk of itself near San Francisco a long time ago, and now there was enough nostalgia for 'the Homelands' that Mother and Father could recruit people, money, and secrets for Ozai's imperial fantasies. There was nothing worthwhile here; I had verified it myself. Wouldn't some reporters somewhere have spotted a known, handsome Prince running around and taken a picture for the society pages?

But I didn't for a moment think that Azula was wrong. It wasn't her style.

I leaned over my desk, pushing aside the snapshots of arrogant men betraying their wives, and said in Japanese, "Let's be clear about this. You're retaining my services to provide a location or Zuko himself to you. I'll need all the information you have on him. And freedom to do things my way, without having to check in every hour like a good little soldier. And there will be expenses."

"Really? Considering this nice office, I would have thought that your parents would be supplementing your income."

"And all those funds they collect from their network gets sent over to your family, anyway. If you front the cash, I don't need to involve Mother or Father- or ask for receipts."

"Hm, receipts are rather a hassle, aren't they?" Azula reached into her handbag and produced a stack of rubber-bound bills that slapped flatly on my desk. "More can be provided as required and you'll have all the freedom you can stomach. I do trust you, Mai."

She lifted her hand from the money and reached out to run a finger over my lips. I was so surprised that my jaw went slack long enough for her to snatch the Camel from my mouth. She took a thin cigarette-holder out of her handbag, tucked the butt into the end, and raised it to her own crimson lips.

She leaned forward, exhaled smoke from her nose so that it splashed against my face, and smiled. "I changed my mind. I do want a cigarette. And I know you don't need any extra motivation to do me a favor."

Well, I had wanted excitement.

I gave a heavy sigh that cleared the smoke away. "What's the catch?"

"Catch?"

"If all this took was knowing the right ears to whisper into, you'd just figure it out yourself, efficient or not. What extra little complication inspired you to dangle me over the fire?"

Azula took a long drag. "Have you heard of the Avatar?"

The word stood out amidst her Japanese, but how it had intruded into the conversation was beyond me. "Some kind of Tibetan advocate touring the country, right? A monk. I think I saw him in one of the newsreels. What's he got to do with any of this?"

"He's opposed to Father's glorious agenda, of course." She stubbed the cigarette out in my ashtray. "And I think he's trying to kill Zuzu. So if his followers encountered anyone looking for my dear lost brother- well, I'm sure you know how to take care of yourself."

So was I.

How could I know how wrong we both were?

An hour later, Kei Lo and I were risking the rain to take the ferry over to Cypress Island. We'd both changed into something less comfortable. He had an umbrella over my head and his raincoat around my shoulders. I was on my fifth Camel since Azula left.

In the distance across the bay, the lights of the Cypress Bridge gleamed through the downpour. That was how the limos got out onto the artificial island, the black chariots designed to look good and, occasionally, block bullets. I didn't have to worry about bullets (yet) and I didn't care about looking better than I had to, so the ferry worked. This was a business trip. That's why I was wearing something that was probably being ruined by the rain and letting my secretary get handsy.

The ferry let us off right next to Zhao's club. We didn't go to the 'front' entrance, which would have taken us to a nice restaurant and dance floor. We hurried out of the rain to the side of the building, where I knocked a specific pattern on an unassuming door. Despite the late -- or early -- hour, the door opened and a bouncer in a tux welcomed us into a little slice of decadence.

Dice were being rolled and cards were being shuffled and marbles rattled on the roulette wheels. Blue cigarette smoke hung over it all. Mahjong tiles (they didn't use cards here like they did back home) clattered in harmony with the clink of ice in glasses. The sound of a piano charmed its way through the cacophony, a better quality of music than the clientele probably appreciated, and just above it was a crooning that sounded like childhood loneliness.

I handed Kei Lo the coat, my cigarette, and a chunk of the money Azula had given me. "Go play." I kept my handbag, a nice deep one I always carried on business excursions.

"Ooh." He took a moment to run his eyes over my black gown before he gave an equally hungry eyeing to the cash. "Should I try to win?"

"Lose. Lots."

"Yes, ma'am." He placed my cigarette between his lips and went to work.

I made my way over to the bar, blending in perfectly, just another Chinese playgirl looking to lose money and enjoy some of America's jazz in a place where they really knew how to play it. So, naturally, the glaring eye in the center of a mass of scar-flesh immediately caught my attention, especially since it was tracking my progress.

I brushed at one of my hair tails and used the motion as a cover to check out the spy. A man of stature, filling out his burgundy jacket with some nice broad shoulders, was turned away from a card game to watch me out of the ruined side of his face. An acid-burn scar left the skin red and atrophied, stretching from the intense eye to a half-eaten ear, giving the man a permanent glare. He was turned so that I couldn't see the rest of his face. His damage was all I could really know about him.

I enjoyed the view.

Sure, such a scar wasn't beautiful, but if I wanted beauty, I could find it everywhere else in the casino. This was a little slice of truth in a classy jacket, a face that couldn't hide anything. History, pain, survival, and menace were all written there for anyone to read and repeat. I'd rather look at a face like this than any number of pretty boys with smiles that hid designs on my connections or money or body. Give me good honest hatred over false praise any day.

That was why I had wanted to be an official police detective, before Mother and Father explained that women of my class did not take up such professions. It's why I ended up a private investigator, snooping into people's lives for enough money that Mother could pretend I was doing something respectable, even if I couldn't actually afford my penthouse.

I like truth. It's hard to find, and the right kind of chase could be exciting.

Was the Scarred Man looking to excite me?

I was willing to give him the chance, especially with a Colt .38 Auto strapped to my right leg just behind the slit in my skirt.

The Scarred Man stayed where he was as I cut my way across the casino, so I let him slip under the soiled sheets of my conscious and continued on to the long alcove enclosing the lounge.

The singing and piano grew clearer as I approached, as did my view of the scene. There was the usual crowd enjoying the libations that Zhao's bartenders were slinging, and on a little stage at the end of the counter was a baby grand with an all-too familiar woman lounging on top of it. 'Madame Pink,' as she was known, was wearing almost half a dress in her signature color and lamenting to a microphone that no amount of her love could make her man stick around.

Most of her audience was more concerned with her legs or her plunging neckline, but I met her gray eyes as I sidled up to the bar. I ordered something I didn't touch and nibbled on peanuts for another two songs. Then Madame Pink finished her set and came over to join me. A bartender slapped a scotch down in front of her as she slapped down a smile in front of me. "Mai!"

"Ty Lee."

"You look nice. You working?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't know he was married."

"Which one?"

"All of them." She knocked back her drink.

I couldn't suppress a laugh, but I did manage to mostly cover it with a snort. Ty Lee and Azula were the only people who could make me laugh, even when we were all little girls back across the Pacific, and Ty Lee didn't even have to threaten anyone's life to do it. "It's not that kind of case. And actually, I won't be working until I talk to your boss. This part is personal."

"Ooh. It's been too long since we got to spend time as friends. We're both always working. Or sleeping." Ty Lee looked across the casino floor as the bartender put another scotch in front of her. "Aw, Zhao's on his way over. We have about a minute of personal time."

I put a cigarette -- my last one -- between my lips. "Light."

Ty Lee retrieved her gleaming golden lighter from her garter and leaned over to share the flame. I pulled a certain little item out of my handbag as I arched forward to meet the fire, bringing us close enough for me to feel the heat of Ty Lee's skin. While she lit my Camel, I slipped a Beretta 418 down the front of her dress. The little handgun -- something I carried around for its concealability, not its stopping power -- disappeared from view, and Ty Lee leaned back with raised eyebrows as she took up her new glass of scotch.

I tried to enjoy the first puff. "Azula's in town."

Ty Lee spilled her drink, swore, and stepped back from the bar. "Does she- am I-"

"I'm still the only one in the country who knows your real name. And she's not looking for you." I was no traitor to my Homeland, or my friend the princess. But Ty Lee was also my friend, and she left everything behind for good reasons, even if I didn't approve of this 'Madame Pink' business. "Still, just in case, I wanted you to have a ticket out of here."

Her giggle was forced. "A bus or train ticket would probably be more helpful."

"That's not to get you a ride. It's to make sure no one follows." I took another drag and saw Ty Lee's eyes widen at something behind me. "Speaking of whom-"

I turned to find Retired-Admiral Zhao coming up behind me in a fitted suit.

"Lady Mai!" He smiled and clapped his hands together. "You should be keeping an eye on your companion. He's the single worst craps player I've ever seen." He turned to Ty Lee and lost all his cheer. "What are you doing?"

Ty Lee picked up the empty glass she'd dropped on the bar. "I'm on break."

"You want to take a break? Fine. Go wait in my office. I'll be along shortly." Zhao's stare wilted my friend like the pink flower she tried to resemble, and she slunk off with one last glance to me.

I tried to blink her a reminder of the gift I'd slipped into her bosom, but I'd never had a very large ocular vocabulary.

Once Ty Lee was gone, Zhao turned to me and smiled again. "I'd have your man thrown out to save you a little money, but he's tipping well, and I try to be kind to my employees."

I didn't waste time swinging at that one. "Ah, let him play a little longer. We can share a drink."

Zhao nodded and made a gesture at a bartender. He took Ty Lee's place next to me but didn't lean. A pair of glasses of wine were set out, and Zhao sniffed at his before he took a sip. "You have something for me?"

I tried my own wine. It was a Yellow Rooster red wine, straight out of China. So having Kei Lo spill Azula's money all over the place had worked; Zhao was in one of his better moods. "I've heard that Councilman Shinu's been talking about claiming eminent domain on your little island here. Something about knocking the club down to build a prison."

Zhao's face collapsed into its natural scowling state. "I've heard that, too."

"Not that you really have to worry about it. Not while you have this." I reached down the front of my dress -- a little trick that always makes these little exchanges go better -- and pulled out an envelope. I'd taken the glossy picture within a while ago while doing some of my regular business, and had set it aside for a day when it would be worth my weight in gold. It was a pretty good shot, if I can judge my own work, clearly showing Shinu and the goods he was receiving.

Certainly, Zhao seemed to appreciate the angle. His expression shone like polished steel when he slid the picture out of the envelope. "The newspapers will love it. And is there some accommodation I can make for you?"

"As exciting as the games here are-" I sipped my wine, tilted my head so that I was looking up at him through my fringe, and drawled, "I'd like to know where I can find a challenging Pai Sho game in the city."

It took him a moment to hear the question lurking behind my request. When he did, his shoulders hunched and he put down his wine. "Even assuming I'd know how to find him, it'd be a big risk for both of us. He doesn't like to talk to anyone in good standing with the Homeland, and he has 'friends' who help him maintain his distance. If he found out I helped you find him-"

"No one would find out anything." I leaned my back against the bar and looked out over the casino. People were laughing and smoking and gambling and keeping the world at bay. "I just want to talk to him about a mutual interest. Even if he takes offense at me, your name will never come up. You know I'm good at keeping my mouth shut. After all, I've been sitting on Shinu's photograph there for a year. Most people think I don't have anything worth saying, anyway."

I waited while Zhao finished his wine. He set the empty glass on the bar, straightened his cuffs, and glanced at me out of the side of his vision. "I'm going to my office. If your date hasn't run out of money in half an hour, a waiter will find you and bring you a note. Keep it folded until tomorrow."

"Ganbei." I finished off my own glass and went to find Kei Lo. I had to tell him to start losing more slowly.

A half an hour later as promised, a folded list of addresses for Pai Sho parlors in my handbag, I was letting Kei Lo put an arm around my waist to guide me out of the casino. The rain had eased up a bit, merely scattering droplets the way a careless smoker leaves ash on the floor. A parking lot full of black cars twinkled drunkenly at me in lamplights. The sky might have even been getting light, behind the clouds and all the damp gloom, but who could tell?

We were the only ones out here. Zhao didn't pay anyone to park cars, and the people inside the club weren't quite ready to squint their way to a breakfast before stumbling into their beds. The sounds of Madame Pink's singing, not as strong as it was before her break in Zhao's office, echoed a bit like a ghost from the past. Distant thunder rolled across the bay to add a jazzy flourish.

So we were the only ones who heard the gunshot, a sharp crack from what had to be a cute little piece.

A shake of my arms and some deft finger-work brought a pair of my own cute little pieces into my hands. Kei Lo's shakes were much less elegant and didn't involve any weapons, but I didn't employ him for his bravery. It was impossible to tell the source of the sound out here in the open night, so I scanned around with guns raised.

There was motion in the corner of my eye. I turned and aimed and found a man with nice shoulders under a burgundy jacket running around the corner of the building, towards the back. The scar on his face was visible for a moment before the darkness swallowed him.

The shooter? Or just someone who was behaving completely sensibly upon hearing gunfire?

Either way, I ran after him. Good thing I'd worn my dancing shoes, but my comfort and balance were the only things they accomplished. By the time I turned the corner, the Scarred Man was gone, either escaped or hiding in some invisible shadow. I kicked over a few empty boxes and poked around the rear loading pier, but found nothing.

At least Kei Lo had made himself useful during my aborted chase. By the time I returned, he'd turned up a body with a bullet hole in it.

It was a man- tall, Chinese features, cheap tux. But the eye-catching thing was the red bird-like facial tattoo that marked him as a member of the Yu Yan gang. Not many of that group ended up like this; it was usually them gunning down other people.

"He as dead as he looks?" I kept my pistols out, one aimed at the body and one covering the rest of the parking lot.

"Yep." Kei Lo leaned back from the body with something in his hands. "Richer, though." He held up a thick, blood-stained stack of bills bound together with a rubber band.

It could be nothing related to us. Just another disagreement outside Zhao's place, the kind of thing that turned sweat and booze and debt into sticky blood. Hey, Zhao might already be regretting his deal with me, and he'd offered a Yuyan gambler a quick way out of some debt.

Or maybe this poor sucker had just come out after dancing the night away with a nice girl, only to wind up taking a bullet for me. It could be that the Avatar's people already knew I was after Zuko.

So was the Scarred Man working for the Avatar? Or was there even more going on here than I could point my guns at right now?

I nudged Kei Lo with a foot. "Get us a car."

"Which one?" He pocketed the cash and pulled out his 'special tools.'

"Do I look like I give two shakes?"

My secretary picked a nearby black Pontiac and started things off by smashing the window. I covered him as he worked his way inside and hotwired the vehicle. It seemed to take forever as I stood there, using the other cars as covers and trying to be ready to get the first shot if anyone decided to start something.

It was moments like these that made me feel alive. My heart and breathing were steady, but my mind was dancing, flitting from partner to partner, switching things up between the mystery of the dead Yuyan and all the shadows that could be hiding a shooter. Angles and bullets and motivations and not as much self-preservation as I should have had all swirled through my thoughts. Scowling acid-scarred visages stared back at me in every shadow and puddle before fading away.

The car growled to life and the passenger-side door was kicked open for me. I had a smile on my face I couldn't get rid of as I got my rear on the leather seat and Kei Lo shifted us into gear. We burned rubber across the bridge. If anyone shot at us, we didn't hear.

I managed not to laugh.

My heart only started hammering after we'd gotten safely away. Kei Lo took the car into the warehouse district, where we could abandon it and get away unobserved. As long as we had no one watching us, I took the time to express my appreciation to my secretary for the getaway. Then I sent him home to sleep it off and stumbled my way to a hotel where no one would think to look for me, something with a front carpet that was slightly dirty but not too gross.

In some ways I'm a classy girl and in some ways I'm not. Trying to be consistent about it sounds exhausting.

TO BE CONTINUED