that?” I said.
“Ain’t got enough data for theorizin’,” my brother muttered.
“Perhaps. But we do have
some
data,” Diana said. “Whatever it was you saw in there, for instance.”
She pivoted to peer into the storeroom, the move bringing her shoulder to shoulder with me. For the next few seconds, my shoulder was very happy indeed.
“Yeah, Brother,” I said. “What was you hel-loin’?”
Gustav’s gaze went faraway, fuzzy. For a man who said he wasn’t ready to theorize, he sure seemed to be doing some awful deep thinking.
“Woon. He didn’t give that phony ‘suicide note’ back to Mahoney,” he said slowly.
“Sure as heck sounded like he did.”
Old Red shook his head slowly. “He gave Mahoney
something
, but it wasn’t the same paper I found on Chan. It was smaller. Didn’t have no fold to it, neither.”
“And Mahoney didn’t notice the difference?” I asked.
My brother hacked out his usual little cough of contempt—“Feh!”
“Woon could’ve handed over a slice of ham and that fathead wouldn’t have noticed the difference,” he said. “Still, he had Woon pegged on at least one thing: The man’s workin’ his own side of the fence. Got something to do with that ‘Shun Tea-Chew’ and ‘Six Companies’ Mahoney was yappin’ about, most like.”
Gustav cleared his throat and looked at his toes—a sure sign that his next words were directed at Diana.
“Seems like I’ve heard of ’em both somewheres, too, but I can’t quite recollect how . . . .”
Diana smiled primly, looking like a schoolmarm savoring the opportunity to remind her pupils who has all the answers.
“If you’ve heard of one, you’ve heard of the other,” she said. “The Six Companies is an association of Chinese businessmen that acts as a sort of local government. Around here, the president of the Six Companies may as well be the mayor—and the current president’s name is Chun Ti Chu.”
“Sure. I remember now,” I said. “Chu pops up in the papers sometimes. Law and order type. Tong fighter. The only Chinaman powerful enough to stand up to Little Pete.” I shook my head. “Poor Doc Chan. If he got caught up in some kinda feud between this Chu feller and the tongs—”
“Don’t kick that pony up to a gallop just yet,” Old Red cut in. “We ain’t even got the bridle on.”
I whistled and gave Gustav an admiring nod. “That’s a good one, Brother. Real quotable-like. How long you been waitin’ to spring it on me?”
Old Red gave me a glare so sharp you could shave with it.
“I’m gonna go make me a reconnoiter,” he growled. “You just stay here. And stay
quiet
. . . if that’s something you’re capable of.”
He pushed the window up higher, then swung up a leg and slipped over the sill. Diana and I watched side by side as he crept through the clutter to the pass-through separating the storage room from the rest of the shop.
“Thank you for standing up for me a few minutes ago,” Diana half-whispered to me. “With your brother, I mean.”
Awww, let her stay
—
we can’t get rid of her anyway
. That’s all I’d really said to Old Red. It didn’t strike me as much of a stand. It barely amounted to a crouch.
Still, who was I to turn away the lady’s gratitude?
“You’re welcome,” I whispered back. “Usually, Gustav takes what I say with a grain of salt the size of a Conestoga wagon. I’m pleased he listened for once.”
Inside, Old Red peeped around the pass-through into the rest of the store. When he’d satisfied himself that Mahoney and Woon were gone, he turned and tiptoed toward the stairs without so much as a glance over at us.
“You can be honest with me, Otto,” Diana said. “Why does my presence put your brother on edge so?”
I snorted out a chuckle as Gustav disappeared up into the stairwell.
“Miss, that man wakes up on edge. Goes to bed on edge, too.
Dreams
on edge, for all I know. You shouldn’t take it personal.”
“There
“Ain’t got enough data for theorizin’,” my brother muttered.
“Perhaps. But we do have
some
data,” Diana said. “Whatever it was you saw in there, for instance.”
She pivoted to peer into the storeroom, the move bringing her shoulder to shoulder with me. For the next few seconds, my shoulder was very happy indeed.
“Yeah, Brother,” I said. “What was you hel-loin’?”
Gustav’s gaze went faraway, fuzzy. For a man who said he wasn’t ready to theorize, he sure seemed to be doing some awful deep thinking.
“Woon. He didn’t give that phony ‘suicide note’ back to Mahoney,” he said slowly.
“Sure as heck sounded like he did.”
Old Red shook his head slowly. “He gave Mahoney
something
, but it wasn’t the same paper I found on Chan. It was smaller. Didn’t have no fold to it, neither.”
“And Mahoney didn’t notice the difference?” I asked.
My brother hacked out his usual little cough of contempt—“Feh!”
“Woon could’ve handed over a slice of ham and that fathead wouldn’t have noticed the difference,” he said. “Still, he had Woon pegged on at least one thing: The man’s workin’ his own side of the fence. Got something to do with that ‘Shun Tea-Chew’ and ‘Six Companies’ Mahoney was yappin’ about, most like.”
Gustav cleared his throat and looked at his toes—a sure sign that his next words were directed at Diana.
“Seems like I’ve heard of ’em both somewheres, too, but I can’t quite recollect how . . . .”
Diana smiled primly, looking like a schoolmarm savoring the opportunity to remind her pupils who has all the answers.
“If you’ve heard of one, you’ve heard of the other,” she said. “The Six Companies is an association of Chinese businessmen that acts as a sort of local government. Around here, the president of the Six Companies may as well be the mayor—and the current president’s name is Chun Ti Chu.”
“Sure. I remember now,” I said. “Chu pops up in the papers sometimes. Law and order type. Tong fighter. The only Chinaman powerful enough to stand up to Little Pete.” I shook my head. “Poor Doc Chan. If he got caught up in some kinda feud between this Chu feller and the tongs—”
“Don’t kick that pony up to a gallop just yet,” Old Red cut in. “We ain’t even got the bridle on.”
I whistled and gave Gustav an admiring nod. “That’s a good one, Brother. Real quotable-like. How long you been waitin’ to spring it on me?”
Old Red gave me a glare so sharp you could shave with it.
“I’m gonna go make me a reconnoiter,” he growled. “You just stay here. And stay
quiet
. . . if that’s something you’re capable of.”
He pushed the window up higher, then swung up a leg and slipped over the sill. Diana and I watched side by side as he crept through the clutter to the pass-through separating the storage room from the rest of the shop.
“Thank you for standing up for me a few minutes ago,” Diana half-whispered to me. “With your brother, I mean.”
Awww, let her stay
—
we can’t get rid of her anyway
. That’s all I’d really said to Old Red. It didn’t strike me as much of a stand. It barely amounted to a crouch.
Still, who was I to turn away the lady’s gratitude?
“You’re welcome,” I whispered back. “Usually, Gustav takes what I say with a grain of salt the size of a Conestoga wagon. I’m pleased he listened for once.”
Inside, Old Red peeped around the pass-through into the rest of the store. When he’d satisfied himself that Mahoney and Woon were gone, he turned and tiptoed toward the stairs without so much as a glance over at us.
“You can be honest with me, Otto,” Diana said. “Why does my presence put your brother on edge so?”
I snorted out a chuckle as Gustav disappeared up into the stairwell.
“Miss, that man wakes up on edge. Goes to bed on edge, too.
Dreams
on edge, for all I know. You shouldn’t take it personal.”
“There
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