I stepped into the warm interior of the cafe. Or “coffee boutique” as the hand-carved wooden sign outside called it. There was a gas fireplace in one wall, surrounded by the sort of couches that eat you whole if you’re not careful. The place was full of hipsters and other assorted subcultures, so Stephanie didn’t look too out of place sitting at a small corner table with a pencil in her hand and a sketchbook in front of her. She didn’t see me right away, so I slowly came up behind her and watched her for a few seconds. The picture she was sketching was a landscape, but not like anything from this world. A floating city hung against a sky dotted with what looked like mechanical winged animals. She was putting the finishing touches on the bridges that extended out from the platforms of rock holding the spike-like city buildings, connecting them to each other and to the desert floor below. As I got closer, I saw how she’d detailed the city, right down to the figures walking the streets. It was beautiful and weird and lonely all at once.
As I craned my neck over the top of her head, she slammed the sketchbook shut. “Are you going to buy me a coffee or what?” she said without turning around.
I smiled and came around the other side of her. “What do you take?”
“Caffè macchiato. Get me a muffin too while you’re at it.”
I didn’t know what a caffè macchiato was, but the shaggy-haired guy at the counter seemed to. I ordered a hot chocolate for myself and picked out a chocolate muffin from the cabinet while the barista set about banging things and pulling levers on the coffee machine and trying to make it look like he was earning the $15.50 he’d taken out of my bank account.
While I waited for the drinks I wandered back to Stephanie’s table, put my bag down, and sat opposite her. She’d opened the sketchbook again while I was gone, though she was carefully angling the cover of it so I couldn’t see her drawing. She didn’t say anything, so neither did I. I noticed she had a habit of tapping her nose ring when she was concentrating. Out in an abandoned building at night, it was easy to imagine that she was a fully grown young woman. But here, in the light of the coffee shop, I could see how young she really was. The soft curve of her neck caught the light from the gas fire. I couldn’t picture her in front of a camera, slowly taking her clothes off beneath the glare of spotlights and the gaze of perverts. Or maybe I just didn’t want to. The girl could swing a mean piece of two by four, but seeing her here like this, I decided there was a softness to her as well. The thought of all she’d been through made my heart ache.
Easy, Spade, I told myself. You still don’t know how she fits into all this. Don’t go getting stupid.
The barista brought our drinks and Stephanie’s muffin over. My hot chocolate was in a tall glass with enough whipped cream on top to give me heart failure, while Stephanie’s macchiato came in a dainty little mug, no bigger than a tea cup. She put her free hand protectively around the cup, clearly enjoying the warmth, while she continued to sketch for another few seconds.
“I bought you coffee,” I said.
“So I see,” she said without looking up.
“Can I ask you some questions now?”
“No one’s stopping you.”
I scooped some cream off the top of my drink with a teaspoon and stuck it in my mouth. “I need to know who the other people involved in this thing are.”
“Why?”
“I just do.”
“If you’re planning on going to the cops, I wouldn’t. Not if you’re particularly attached to your kneecaps.”
“I’m not going to the cops,” I said. “I just want to know who I’m dealing with.”
“You want a suspect list.”
“That too.”
She closed her sketchbook, put down her pencil, and looked at me over the rim of her coffee mug. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not.”
She smiled. “You are. You’re miserable and desperate and exhausted, but you love this. You wear your bruises and your broken heart like badges of honour. You need this. I can see it in your eyes. I’ve never seen someone more alive.”
I shook my head. She was trying to get inside my head, and there wasn’t enough room in there for anyone else.
“Malcolm’s got some friends,” I said, changing the subject. “The skinny guy with the glasses. And the fashion queen. I need to know who they are and what they do.”
Stephanie studied me for a moment, then shrugged. “The woman’s name is Cassandra Lambert. She and Malcolm are the two main adult actors. The other guy, the one with the glasses, that’s Dennis Tillman. He does the filming and some of the editing.”
Cassandra Lambert and Dennis Tillman. Two more names for my list. “Who’s in charge? Malcolm?”
“I don’t think they have a designated boss. But Dennis pretty much runs the shots. He’s smart, much smarter than the others. Not just book smart. He’s crafty. He’s the one who’s been keeping everyone calm lately.”
“Calm?”
She took a long, slow sip of her coffee. For a moment her eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy. “Malcolm and Cassandra have been agitated the last month or so. Temper tantrums, arguments. Malcolm especially has been keeping to himself, steering clear of the others. I didn’t know what was going on. None of my business. You learn pretty quick that the best way to stay safe is to close your eyes and cover your ears.”
“Sounds like a good way to get yourself shot in the back of the head.”
“Don’t talk down to me, little boy.” She took another sip before speaking again. “I admit, you made me curious. I asked around last night. There are rumours that there was a leak.”
She wasn’t the only one who was curious now. I realised I was letting cream drip from my spoon onto the table. I didn’t much care.
“Some of the kids say that someone got hold of unedited footage,” Stephanie said. “Footage where everyone is clearly recognisable. Rumour is that this person was blackmailing Dennis and the others, threatening to go to the police.”
“And?”
“And nothing. After a couple of weeks, everyone calmed down and it was as if nothing ever happened.”
My heart pounded. Could Ella have been the blackmailer? If she was in the studio, maybe she got her hands on some of the footage. Maybe the money she was earning wasn’t enough for her to get out of town. Or maybe she couldn’t handle being back there. So she tried to blackmail them. But it went wrong. She got caught out. They came after her, and they silenced her.
It didn’t seem like the Ella I knew, but then nothing did lately. Maybe when I was inside I could find some records to prove it. How would a blackmailer communicate? Phone calls might be too risky. Email? If I could check out their email records, I might find something.
Another thought hit me and made my spine go stiff. I fished in my pockets. I’d taken to carrying around all the bits of evidence with me wherever I went, like some kind of good luck charm collection. The copy of Dennis’s phone number, Ella’s ring. My fingers closed on something plastic. I put the USB drive on the table.
Stephanie stared at the USB drive. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know. Information, maybe.” In there was the encrypted folder from Malcolm’s computer, audvid_backup. What if this was footage as well? Maybe it was Malcolm’s private stash.
But now I had a copy. Malcolm would know someone had taken his computer. If they killed Ella for taking footage, what the hell would they do to me if they found out what I had?
“Are you okay?” Stephanie asked.
I rubbed my face quickly and shoved the drive back in my pocket. “Yeah. Fine.”
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Maybe. I can’t get into it. You happen to know what sixteen characters Malcolm would use to make a password?”
She frowned and tapped her nose ring. “You’re the stupidest boy I’ve ever met.”
“Yeah, I’m the stupidest boy I’ve ever met too.”
“What are you planning, Spade?”
I stirred my hot chocolate with my spoon for a few seconds. Looked at Stephanie. Looked away. She didn’t look like Ella, not even a little bit. She didn’t even act like her. Where Ella was bright, so full of life she looked ready to spontaneously combust, Stephanie was soft, quiet, with steel underneath.
But there was something about her, something that’d dug hooks inside my chest and started to tug. I wanted to trust her. I wanted to protect her, stupid as that sounded. She’d protected herself far better than I had. And that instinct was all mixed up and confused with the guilt, the guilt of not knowing what Ella had been doing, for lashing out and hurting her dad, for letting her die, for still loving her even when part of me wanted to cup my hand around Stephanie’s cheek. And even if I did that, I knew I couldn’t trust Stephanie, I could never trust her. I couldn’t risk it. Not until I was done.
But she was just a kid, just like me. What the hell was I supposed to do? Just let her keep doing this to herself?
I made a snap decision. “This is going to get messy,” I said. “It’s going to get messy fast. You need to get out and stay out of sight. If they find out you told me anything….”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you planning? I gave you this information to help you find who killed your girlfriend. Because I felt sorry for you. Not so you could try and get everyone arrested.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I said. “You expect me to just let everyone else walk?”
“What happened to your girlfriend is your business. But everything else isn’t. Stay out of it.”
“Jesus Christ,” I said, my hands balling into fists. I knew I was drawing looks from the coffee shop hipsters, but I didn’t care. “You’re going to stand up for these people? These people who use you?”
She shook her head and laughed mirthlessly. “Use me? You mean like you’re using me, little boy? Bringing me here, buying me coffee, pumping me for information.”
“That’s completely different.”
“What the hell do you know? Without them I’d be one more dead kid with no family to give a damn. They paid me. They set me up with a place to live. Maybe I’m even doing the world a service. Maybe those pervs on the other side of the world can jerk off to me instead of going into their step-daughter’s room at night. Yes, they’re using me, and I’m using them. I fuck who they tell me to fuck, and I get to keep a roof over my head. It’s a bitch of a world, but I plan to stay living in it. I’m not as eager to die as you are.”
She was breathing heavy by the end, her cheeks flushed with red. I sat in silence. Her anger had cut through mine like a chainsaw. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. Half the coffee shop was sending glances in our direction.
She stared at the wall, arms folded across her slim chest. Eventually, her breathing slowed. She picked up her sketchbook, shoved it into the satchel at her feet, and stood.
“Do what you have to do,” she said, quieter now. “Find out what you need to find out.”
As she looked me in the eye, I noticed she had flecks of gold scattered through the dark brown of her irises. She came around behind me. Leaned down, wrapped her arms around me in a loose hug. Her chin came to rest on my shoulder.
“But don’t ever try to save me,” she whispered in my ear. “I don’t need a knight. And I don’t want one.”
She released me and slung her satchel over her body. I could still smell the scent of her as she walked out the door.
~~~
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