Chapter 18

Dean Lifante

11:30 AM

Pulling into the broken parking lot of Squeegees R' Us, Dean turned to Barbie. "Ming said the manager here is a young man, so it's possible he would ignore the blood on your face." He handed her a cloth and pointed to the rearview mirror. "But we don't want to tip our hand. We don't know how he's connected to Slazney, yet."

"Thank you," she said, pulling down the visor and wiping her nose. The blood had dripped onto her blouse. "I did wipe it off. My nanites have turned off. Usually, they just repair the initial damage to the body, then go dormant to conserve energy. I've been using them too much, and it's been over fifteen hours since the Maker reset them. I could absorb some of the ambient heat to restart them, but that would require me to go into a coma while they work. I still have my training, but I can't repair myself the same way. Besides, I was expecting him to stare at my chest." She adjusted the tight outfit she was wearing to hike up her breasts. "Isn't that what men in this time usually do?"

"What do they do in your time?" Dean sighed, regretting the questions. He was beginning to like the woman. She was beautiful, but her casual attitude towards violence and sex grated on him. After what happened with his ex-wife, he didn't trust the direct approach. It was always hiding something.

"Not something so vulgar. You went up to someone you liked and told them you liked them. Social problems became unimportant after Alaska was sold back to Russia and the Second Civil War poisoned the Great Lakes." She paused and frowned, slapping her head. "I don't remember that happening. Reality waves are happening, changing things. We have to hurry."

Dean smiled and nodded. He didn't know what to believe with her. She sounded sane one moment, even if she could do things he couldn't explain. Then something like that came out of her mouth, and he wished she would disappear.

"Let me ask the questions. Please." He got out of the car and opened the door to the building. A freezing wind blasted him in the face. The air-conditioner was going full blast. There was a big kick about energy efficiency in Vegas these days, but that wasn't the case here. It was a small, cramped office with one secretary, connected to a washing bay. A truck sat there through the glass doors. Stepping up to the counter, he rested his elbow on the desk, holding his badge out to show the man sitting there.

"Can I help you?" he said.

"Yes. I'm Detective Lifante. I'd like to speak to the manager, Chip, please. We spoke on the phone yesterday."

"Ah, yes." The secretary gazed at Dean. "Your voice matches your face perfectly. I like it." He winked at Dean.

Dean smiled and nodded his head. Barbie came up and stood beside him, copying the same pose. Dean narrowed his eyes but ignored her. This wasn't the time to get into why copying someone wasn't polite.

"One moment. He's in a meeting with an employee," the secretary said, turning back to his computer. He pulled up a YouTube animated video and started lip-singing along with it.

"This isn't right!" A door crashed open, and a woman walked out. A strong spicy scent of cologne burst out with her. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, but her hair was short, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. "I told you not to call me by my dead name. It's Kat, and I go by They and Them!"

"You are Catherine in the system, and that's how you'll stay in mine until you change it," said the male voice from the room. "You want to be called 'Kat', fine. But get the paperwork done and submit it to me."

She... No, not she, Dean corrected himself. They stormed out of the office, past the two standing at reception. Kat was furious. Their scowl sucking in all the energy from the room, lowering the temperature a good five degrees. They locked eyes with Dean and Barbie and paused. Their scowl turned to slight confusion as they moved to the wash bay connected by the other door. Dean watched Kat turn back and look at them through the glass.

"Sorry, you had to hear that. HR problems," Chip said, stepping up to Dean and shaking his hand. "You must be Detective Lifante. Who's your friend?" He stood in front of Barbie and smiled. "Chester Punk. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand. The spicy smell was digging into Dean's eyes. He rubbed his hand, the smell sticking to it. He couldn't feel anything else about the young man, though. His instincts were silent. He narrowed his eyes. They were never silent.

"This is my partner, Barbie," Dean said, running his hand down the side of his pants to get the smell off.

Barbie smiled and showed Chip her teeth, with a missing front tooth in her lower jaw. He drew back, losing his smile, but quickly came forward and put his arm around her shoulder.

"Please step into my office."

"This is bordering on sexual harassment," Barbie said. "Will you please remove your arm before I have to break it? And what's that smell? My nose is burning."

Chip's face turned white, and he stepped back, raising both of his hands in the air. "Sorry about that. I spilled my aftershave on myself today." Adjusting his collar, he turned to Dean. "What can I do for you, Detective?"

Dean needed to change the mood. It was difficult to get a read on Chip. He went from playboy wannabe to serious in the space of a heartbeat. "I believe you spoke to a colleague of mine yesterday, Ming Na Liu. She mentioned how helpful you were to our investigation."

"Yes, Ming Na. How is she? She promised to write a feature on me." Chip sat down at his desk and put his feet on the corner. "Help yourself to a caramel. I just replenished my stash." He pointed to an open jar on the desk. After getting shut down by Barbie, he was trying to show he was still in charge. Dean couldn't stand people like him. You had to stroke their ego and make them think they were important to move the investigation forward.

Dean and Barbie sat down in the chairs in front of the desk. "She's hard at work on that and hopes I could speak with your father directly about his business partner."

Chip put his feet down on the floor and opened a book on his desk. "Anything for her and Bobby. He's my best washer. He never complains, unlike some people." Chip tisked. "As for my father, he isn't feeling very well and doesn't like talking to strangers." Chip shrugged his shoulders. "I asked him who our partner was, and he sent me this number." He passed a piece of paper to Dean. "Dad said he'd only met him once when he was setting up the business." Chip stood up. "Sorry, I can't be of more help." He reached over and grabbed Dean's hand, giving it another shake.

"No, this is great. Thank you, Mr. Punk. It's been a big help." Dean stood up and placed his hand over Chip's. "This is a huge break in our investigation." Picking up the number, he tucked it into his shirt pocket and left the room. The smell was causing his eyes to water.

Barbie followed behind, bumping into Dean as they exited the office and stepped back into the blazing sun. After the frigid hell of the office, the heat felt good, but he couldn't get rid of the smell of Chip's cologne.

"Why was it so cold in there?" asked Barbie. "My nipples were standing up. Also, what was with that spicy smell? It plugged up my nose. I've of a mind to claim smell harassment!"

Dean closed his eyes, shut out her voice and took a deep breath to remove the last vestiges of spice from his nose. He also had to leave the air-conditioning on in his place, just like this. If he didn't, the smell from the bodies would have overwhelmed the neighbours in hours. Ming would have come back to a bloated meat sack. His electricity bill next month was going to be insane.

"That's not important," he mumbled to himself.

"You talk to yourself a lot," Barbie said. "You could talk to me. I'm a certified counsellor in Greater Vegas."

"Really?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "What kind of counsellor?"

Barbie smiled. "I'm a certified seventh-dan Akido-therapist. I will beat the pain out of you."

Dean took a deep breath and pulled out the number. "Maybe later. We have this to deal with first."

"I can't wait. Maybe we can find a connection to the Maker," Barbie said, bouncing on her heels.

"Just wait. If I do this, we need to set up a trace first. I'm not going to call the number and have them skip out on me." He paused. "But maybe there's something I can do." He scanned the street and located an old pay phone. Opening the door, he went inside and pulled out the number. It had a local area code, so it wouldn't be difficult. Putting coins in the slot, he dialled. The person on the other end answered after three rings.

"S-Class Consultants. When the A class isn't good enough, how may I help you?" a young female voice said. Dean could tell she was reading from a script.

"Hi, I'm calling to talk about your insurance provider," Dean said, affecting a bad Indian accent.

"Sorry. We're not interested. Bye." The woman hung up.

"Excellent." Dean hung up the receiver and stepped out of the booth.

"What was that all about?" Barbie asked, hands on her hips.

Dean wrote the name S-Class Consultants on the back of the paper Chip gave him and put the number away in his wallet. "There are many Indian call centers buying stacks of numbers. They call people trying to sell insurance. Most people hang up and forget them. They won't remember us, and now we have their name. I can track them down with that."

"The past is so strange. You hide your feelings and lie all the time. Nanites make everything so much better. In the future, after taking the Canadian healthcare system over, everybody was much happier."

"The Canadian healthcare system?" Dean asked.

"Yes. They didn't need it after the civil war there. Nobody was left except the maple syrup traders." Barbie shook her head and stepped back. They returned to Dean's car, but the person arguing with Chip stepped out of the wash bay and waved them over.

"Yes. What can I do for you?" Dean asked. "Kat, right?"

They nodded. "You're Dean Lifante, aren't you? Ming Na Liu's friends?"

"Yes. How do you know her?" Dean asked.

"I helped her wash the windows at the Shujing the other day." They looked around, checking the door to the office. They licked their lips and turned back to Dean. "I thought she mentioned you, but part of me never believed her."

Dean smiled and stepped back. His gut was telling him not to run away, but his head was screaming, warning.

"For years, my grandmother had been going on about this letter her mother left her. It had advice about what to do and what to avoid. It made our family a lot of money. She passed a few years ago and left my mother all her things. She didn't care much about it. She was too busy raising six kids, but enjoyed the money. In Grandma Jessica's things, there was a sealed letter addressed to a Dean Lifante." They handed Dean a letter. "When I saw your name on the news with Bobby, I started carrying it with me, just in case. This is for you."

"Why? How did you know I would be here today?"

Kat shrugged their shoulders. "I didn't. In the letter my grandmother had, it only mentions your name. I had a big fight with my family and left it there. I'm the youngest and only girl. When I decided to transition, my mother couldn't accept it. She is over sixty and pretty set in her ways. Grampa kept it and sent it to me when I got the job here. He knew something was going to happen. He was always a bit cagy." Kat smiled. "I didn't need the money, which is good. This place pays crap. I was just curious who would get the letter."

Dean looked at the letter. It was in Ming's handwriting. He'd recognize her writing anywhere by the way she curled her 'Ds'. He ran his finger along the back and flicked the open flap. "It's not sealed anymore. Did you read it?"

"Of course. I don't want to believe everything in it, but it was fun, if it's true. It also explains a few things about Bobby and how my family got its money." They looked around and whispered, "Don't read it here, though. You don't know who's watching."

"Thank you." Dean put it in his pocket. "I'll read it later. What are you going to do now?"

Kat smiled. "I've done what I set out to do. Now I'm going to quit this joke of a job and head back to my real passion, following Baby Metal. I've even been learning Japanese to understand their songs better." They waved and yanked open the door to the office.

"I like her," Barbie said. "She's cool. She would fit in back home."

Dean didn't correct Barbie. He barely understood the whole pronoun thing himself. After the sensitivity training at work, he tried to follow what people wanted, but it usually left him shaking his head.

Getting in the car, Dean opened the letter. From the first word, his hands started trembling.

"What is it?" Barbie asked. "Who's the letter from?"

He handed it to her,

Dear Lifante,

If you're reading this, then I survived. This is Ming Na Liu. Bobby and I landed in a mother-daughter pair in 1947 Vegas. I have no idea what's going to happen to me here. I'm writing to tell you that you have to open Bobby's computer and bring up the program 'Death Metal'. The computer password is 'I will see Mickey 9'. Before the twenty-four-hour mark, you need to type in 'Return' in the final prompt line and hit enter. From there, we should be able to come back. However, if you fail, then I will either live out my life or fade from this body. According to Bobby, we can't stay longer than a week in this time before it's impossible to return. While I'm here, I plan on leaving some information for these people. They've had a tough life. I hope this letter will make it to you, but even if it doesn't, I just wanted to let you know I don't think your instincts are always wrong. I can't explain how I got here, but I've seen things now that are making me question everything I've ever known. Forgive me. I'm rambling now.

Barbie turned to Dean and slapped the letter. "I knew she liked you. When you see her again, say how you feel, sheesh!" She continued reading.

Bobby has a plan to get us back. If it works, we'll see each other soon. If it fails, I don't want to go without saying this: I care for you.

Please don't forget to use the computer, or I'll have to kick your ass. I can do it too, even if I have to come back as a ghost from '47.

Love Ming.

"We know where they are now. That's great." Barbie was smiling as she put the letter back in the envelope. "Now all we need to do is get the computer." She slapped Dean on the shoulder.

He just stared ahead, gripping the steering wheel. "Let's head back to the station."

They needed the computer, but they only had less than thirteen hours to find it and no idea where it was. Chip was a dead end, but maybe his father would be more useful. They also had to track down S-Class Consulting and find any connection to Slazney. Either it or Yichen were their best bet.

Zacoski couldn't be involved, could he?