Molly laughed gently. "Next to nothing. That’s the point."
"I don’t get it."
"You’re a man," Molly pointed out. "You’re all a bit clueless when it comes to these things."
Morgan replied with a grunt. He couldn’t really argue what she was saying — when it came to understanding women, he was in the same boat as most men in the world: he couldn’t fathom what went on in their pretty little heads. He was spared from having to admit such by a sudden murmuring amongst the crowd. He craned his head to see whose arrival was having such an effect. He saw two men pushing their way out of the casino. One of them wore a tattered top hat, a threadbare coat and vest and dark trousers. His skin was so dark that it made his eyes and teeth look gleaming white in comparison. He carried a gnarled walking stick in his left hand and muttering angrily under his breath. He looked to be in his early fifties though there was something about him that made Morgan wonder if he wasn’t much older than that.
Trailing along behind was one of the most massive brutes that Morgan had ever seen. The man wore heavy work boots and overalls. A stained white shirt peeked out from beneath the overalls and the man’s fingers were so filthy that Morgan wondered if he’d washed them any time in the current decade. The man had to be nearly seven feet tall, with shoulders so broad that even Morgan, who had spent a lifetime around heavy bruisers, was impressed. But it was the mask the man wore that caused such a ripple through the crowd. It was wrapped around his bald head with heavy leather straps, leaving a plastic covering over his face. It was shaped like a human face, with a nose, curved lips and gentle indentions around the two holes that allowed the man’s eyes to peer out at the world.
"My gosh," Molly whispered. "Why is he dressed like that?"
"I don’t know," Morgan answered. "Could be that he’s disfigured and thinks that mask would disturb people less than seeing what’s underneath."
Molly shivered. "I find that hard to believe."
The two men came to a stop not far from their table and the man in the top hat began to smile, his eyes widening at the sight of Morgan. "Mr. Watts?" he asked, speaking in an oily sort of voice. It reminded Morgan of a snake oil salesman, about to launch into a pitch for his newest product.
Morgan could feel Molly’s gaze on him, wondering how he could possibly know these two men. He wondered that himself. "Yes. Can I help you?"
"Perhaps you can. Yes, perhaps you can, indeed." Without being asked, the man pulled out an empty chair at the table and sat down in it. The masked brute remained standing, though he came closer so that he stood directly behind his friend. Morgan sniffed delicately, aware that the big man stank to high heaven. The black man in the top hat didn’t seem to notice. He swept the hat off his head and set it on the table between Molly and Morgan. "You can call me Mr. Dinkins. The big fella is named Muggsy."
"That’s an unusual name," Molly whispered, sliding closer to Morgan. She seemed to be begging him with her eyes, pleading with him to ask Dinkins and his companion to leave. Morgan sympathized but his curiosity wouldn’t allow it.
"Nobody knows his real name," Dinkins said. "He just showed up one day and we all took to calling him Muggsy. It’s a joke, you see. Because his mug is so damned ugly we have to make him wear a mask."
Morgan was growing increasingly disturbed by the smell emanating from Muggsy. "I’m actually here on a date so if you want to talk business, you either need to make it fast or call Assistance Unlimited and make an appointment."
"I apologize for having interrupted," Dinkins said. "But I do think that my case might be the sort of thing that you’d taken an interest in. You see, my friend and I traveled all the way from New Orleans. We’re looking for a young woman, little more than a girl really, named Monique. She took something that rightfully belongs to me and I don’t take kindly to thieves, I can tell you that. In the weeks that Muggsy and I have been here, we’ve heard that she’s been around but haven’t been able to find her. So I said to Muggsy, let’s hire Assistance Unlimited to help us. But I figured that your boss must be an expensive fella so we came here to try and win us enough money to make it worth his while."
"From the way you exited the casino, I gather your plan didn’t work out?"
Dinkins drew an ugly face. "The games are rigged," he said in disgust.
Morgan doubted that. Everything he’d heard said that Fortune McCall ran as clean an establishment as any in the country. "We don’t normally track down thieves. Maybe you’d be better off going to the police. They’re bound to be cheaper anyway."
"Ah, but this is no ordinary theft." He began unbuttoning the vest that he wore under his threadbare coat. When Molly shifted uncomfortably, he offered a wan smile. "My apologies, my lady, but I have to show this so that your paramour will understand." Once the vest was pulled away, Morgan saw a bandage over the man’s heart. Blood had seeped through the bandage and the medical tape used to hold it in place looked like it was about to give way.
Morgan narrowed his eyes. "I’m not following you. She attacked you when she stole this item?"
"It was a necessary part of the theft," Dinkins answered. He tore away the bandage and revealed a gaping hole in his chest. The sight was enough to cause Molly to scream out loud. She stood up so quickly that she knocked her chair to the floor and Morgan was upright just as fast, catching her and turning her face so that the girl could bury it in his neck. Dinkins’ smile never wavered during all of this. "Look closely, mon ami. That clever girl cut my heart out and took it with her!"
Chapter II
The Heartless Man
Samantha gently opened the hospital room door and peered inside. A young woman named Tracy Gethers lay in the bed, swathed in bandages. Her mother sat in a chair nearby, her eyes shining wetly with tears and a crumpled tissue in one hand. The mother looked up when Samantha stepped inside.
"Are you a friend of Tracy’s?" the woman asked. Her voice sounded hoarse with emotion and Samantha felt out of place. She’d known why Lazarus had tasked her with this job, though: Eun was a foreigner and Morgan, if he had been available, was a bit too gruff for this kind of work.
"No, ma’am. My name is Samantha Grace and I work for Assistance Unlimited. Have you heard of us?"
"Of course I have. I’ve seen Mr. Gray in the papers. But we’ve already given a statement to the police and Tracy needs her rest. Besides, I don’t have any money to pay you."
Samantha smoothed out her skirt and shook her head. "We don’t want any money. Sometimes we take cases just because it’s the right thing to do."
"Well," the mother said uncertainly, "I don’t think Tracy could tell you anything she didn’t already tell the police so I’m going to have to ask you to leave."
"Momma, let her stay. Please. I don’t mind talking some more."
Samantha turned to look at Tracy, who was staring out her from beneath the bandages on her face. The girl was slight of build and, from what Samantha had been told, had possessed a fragile beauty. Unfortunately, the wounds to her face were going to rob her of that. "Thank you," Samantha said gratefully, coming to sit on the edge of Tracy’s bed.
"Well… don’t tucker yourself out." Tracy’s mom stood up and moved toward the door. "I’m going to grab some fresh air but I’ll be right back. Is that okay?"
"Sure, momma." When her mother was gone, Tracy lowered her voice conspiratorially. "She doesn’t want to hear it all again. I think it’s harder on her than it is on me."
Samantha smiled, realizing that she liked Tracy already. "Well, we can stop whenever you need to. I really don’t want to interfere with your rest."