An excerpt from Aura of Indigo

Chapter Six.

     "Ooooo... This place looks very nice, honey!" Liz called, peering at the building as we pulled up in front.

     I nodded. The address Mrs. Duran had given me over the phone was to a very nice four-story building on Mayfair drive. The building itself looked like something straight out of a crackling, ancient 1930's vid - very "old fashioned brownstone" in looks, nestled in a very quiet and attractive neighborhood. "Let's hope Jack's recommendation was enough, hon. This looks like a good place."

     The "visitor's bell" panel was prominently marked below a little speaker grille next to the door, and I scanned the short list of names until I found Mrs. Duran listed. She'd been quite specific about the time she wanted us to be there - 1400 sharp. I poked the button beside her name, and waited.

     "'Oo is it?" the voice came back on the speaker.

     "Alan Donovan - I called earlier? I'm looking for an apartment. Lieutenant Jack Halloran recommended me."

     "I'll be right out," the reply came back.

     We waited, and a few moments later, the door opened, revealing the most fascinating woman I'd met in years.

     Mrs. Duran, the landlady, was an extremely attractive black woman who wore multicolored beads in her dreadlocked hair and interesting buttons, beads and shiny bangles sewn to various spots on her multicolored blouse and multi-layered skirt. Her wrists were adorned with half a dozen bangles in different colors that fought for space just beyond the cuffs of the puffy sleeves of her blouse, while her fingernails were long, and painted a bright red. She looked for all the world like she could have stepped out of a trideo ad from the Jamaican Board of Tourism - she even smelled of oranges. "A good ahfta-noon to you, Mis'tah Donovan! I'm Missus Duran," she said, shaking my hand firmly. "An' 'oo's dis little one on your shoulder, dere?"

     Liz blinked in surprise, but I simply smiled. Mrs. Duran had a strong 'Jamaican' accent, though whether it was real or faked, I couldn't tell. "This is Liz, Mrs. Duran."

     "Pleased to meet you," Liz said, smiling.

     "What a dah'lin' little t'ing you ah!" Mrs. Duran replied, smiling broadly.

     "Thank you," Liz replied, smiling in return.

     "Does 'ee smoke?" Mrs. Duran asked, still looking at Liz.

     "No, ma'am," Liz replied, smiling.

     "Drink?"

     "Only in moderation."

     Mrs. Duran frowned slightly at that, but nodded. "Well, 'ee can't be too bad, or you wouldn't be around 'im," Mrs. Duran said, then nodded to me. "If you'll follow me, Mis'tah Donovan, I'll show you de apaht'ment."

     I simply grinned and followed. It appeared that Mrs. Duran was not merely the landlady, but also the concierge for the building.

     Liz approved of Mrs. Duran immediately, as well as the apartment she showed us. For her part, Mrs Duran cooed over Liz all the time we examined the apartment, and obviously found her adorable. Me, on the other hand, she looked down her nose at and demanded three month's rent in advance. "An' don' be teenkin' dat jus' because you're some kind of fay-mous private detective, I'll be lettin' you slide wit' de rent, Mis-tah Donovan!" she said, waggling a finger at me. "I expect de rent on de first of every mont', tank you very much!"

     I grinned at her accent - on anyone else, it would have been comic, but on her, it seemed perfectly natural. "Yes, ma'am - the first of every month. I'll need a receipt for every month's payment for tax purposes, though," I replied.

     "Done an' done!" Mrs. Duran replied, and we shook hands on the deal, we pulled out our cit-cards to make the transfer. The apartment wasn't too expensive, but ordinarily I'd have paid this much for an apartment twice it's size. Given the general ambiance of the building and the suitability of the neighborhood, however, the price seemed about right to me.

     The apartment itself was very small, and almost unfurnished. If you counted the tiny kitchenette as a room, there were only three rooms - kitchenette, living room, and bathroom. There was a couch in the living room and a refrigerator and small microwave in the kitchenette, and that was it. The couch folded out into a bed, which would save me the trouble of looking for a new bed, at least. The bathroom was somewhat of a surprise, however - the toilet appeared ancient, with an overhead tank and a wooden seat that marked it as an antique, yet the seat was a modern-style one with a muse-hole in the center of the lid. Where Mrs. Duran had gotten this anachronism, I had no idea. There was no shower, either - simply a large antique footed bathtub with exposed pipes, and a decidedly anachronistic "no-slip" mat across the bottom and an even more anachronistic bath mat beside it with a non-skid backing. Beside the tub was what appeared to be a replica wicker end-table and a small, empty soap tray. Apparently, one placed soap or shampoo or whatever you needed in the tub close at hand atop the end-table - it's bottom shelf would probably do just perfectly for Liz' dryer. The sink also looked antique, a 'pedestal' style with exposed, chrome-plated pipes. It had no counter-space, but instead a glass shelf was installed on the wall just above it, between it and the medicine cabinet.

     The apartment was on the second floor, and all the doors on this floor had opaque glass insets, with business names painted on. Judging by the painted names on the other doors, Mrs. Duran apparently reserved this floor for small businesses where the owner lived on the premises. How she moved the couch and other furniture in here I didn't know, but it was obvious from the smudges in the lay of the carpet that the couch had been moved into here shortly before I arrived - probably after Jack called her and told her what I'd be needing.

     Liz and I were discussing who I might hire to scrape off the lettering for the previous occupant's business (an accountant, apparently) and paint my name and business in it's place, when Mrs. Duran showed up with a small wooden kit, pulled out a scraper, and got to work. She worked swiftly and precisely, with not even a drop of paint spilled, and in half an hour, the job was done. "Now, little one, don'choo let him be touchin' dis 'til it dries, alright?" she said when she was done, waggling a finger at Liz with a rattle of wrist-bangles.

     Liz simply grinned and said "Don't worry, I won't!" I had to stifle a laugh. Mrs. Duran was quite a character - or, perhaps, put on an excellent front. It was hard to say, at this point, but if Liz didn't notice anything worth mentioning, then she was probably alright.

     Mrs. Duran paused, looking me over again. "What's dis for?" she asked, tapping Cleo's carpet needle with a long fingernail. With the large upholstery bead glued to it, it looked like some kind of odd lapel-pin.

     I shrugged, and decided to tell her the truth - or most of it, at any rate. "It belonged to my previous muse. She and my ex-wife's cat didn't get along."

     "You kept a muse an' a cat in de same 'ouse?!" Mrs. Duran replied, raising an eyebrow at me.

     I stammered, but Liz came to my rescue. "It wasn't his cat, Mrs. Duran. The cat belonged to his ex-wife, Sharon. Cleo was his previous muse, and Sharon didn't like her because she was vindictive, manipulative, and a poor personality match for Alan. Sharon didn't like Cleo sleeping in the same room with them, and the cat was loose in the house at night, so Cleo ended up having to sleep in a little cage for safety. Unfortunately, the cat would sneak up and try to claw the latch open at night. So Cleo made that needle to poke the cat with when it was bothering her at night. Alan finally got Sharon to get rid of the cat, but Sharon hated Cleo ever after that. Sharon ended up killing Cleo in a screaming argument the night she left, and they got a divorce shortly thereafter."

     "She killed 'er?!" Mrs. Duran asked, obviously astonished.

     Liz nodded. "Yes. Alan was in the dumps for about a month after that. He's a private detective, and Cleo was his partner. Finally he took Cleo's card down to the Biotronics shop and got me to replace her - now I'm Alan's partner."

     Mrs. Duran smiled at Liz. "An' now you 'ave 'im carry dat in case you meet a cat, too?"

     Liz smiled innocently. "Well, it's not likely I will, since Alan takes very good care of me, but yes," she replied, lying smoothly. I was impressed.

     Mrs Duran nodded. "Well, little one, my late 'usband was a jewl-ah. Along wit' rings an' jewelry an' such, he used to make little stick-pins an' cocktail swords like dat - dat's why it caught my eye. Toys for de rich folk, of course - ones 'oo spend fifty dollahs on a metal cocktail sword when a plastic one would do just as well. I've a few dat 'ee made left to me - you wait 'eah," she said, and started to turn, then paused for a moment. "And as for you, Mis-tah Donovan, I'll 'ave you know for fyoo-cha ref'rence dat I do not allow dogs or cats in dis building, not even to visit. Fish and muses is it. Alright?"

     I smiled disarmingly. "Yes, ma'am."

     We went back into the apartment, and I waited until Mrs. Duran was down the stairs before I spoke. "Very smooth, Liz," I said, and stroked her cheek with a fingertip.

     "Thank you, honey. Just doing my job," she replied, smiling.

     I looked around the apartment again. "Hmmm... What kind of furniture do you think we should get?"

     "Something in a style that will match the building and the apartment, hon. This place looks like something straight out of the 1930's. Very well maintained."

     I nodded. "I'm surprised it's not on a register of historical landmarks, myself."

     Liz giggled. "I don't think Mrs. Duran would put up with tourists for long, honey."

     I chuckled. "Probably not," I said, then looked around the apartment again. "Hmmm... Probably a desk over there, chair to match, a small table there, chairs for clients, night-stand, a frame for a copy of my diploma, and maybe a few pictures on the wall to complete the look. That's about all that will fit in here."

     Liz nodded. "I agree. This whole place is barely the size of your old living-room, that's about all you're going to get in here."

     "That's only going to be maybe six, eight pieces, most small. If we go to Carstairs Furniture in the mall, we can probably get same-day delivery on that."

     "Well, if not, honey, we can wait for it. You are not going to mess up those ribs trying to move furniture around. Remember the doctor and her little rubber mallet?"

     I chuckled. "Don't worry, Liz, I'm not going to do anything that will put me back in the hospital."

     "Not while I'm your muse, at any rate," Liz said, and grinned.

     Mrs. Duran tapped on the doorframe of the open door at that moment, then smiled, holding out a flat, rectangular blue jewelry box to Liz as she walked over - it looked like a box one might have a necklace in. "'Eah you ah, little one," she said, and opened the box for her.

     "Oooo... It's very pretty!"

     I nodded. Inside the box was a tiny rapier, perfect in every detail, save that the blade was simply a seven centimeter needle rather than a double-edged sword blade. It sat in an indentation in the box made for it, and the inside of the box was lined with blue velvet. Both the sword and the box were fabulous work.

     "Yes, it's one my late 'usband made, like I told you - a cocktail sword for rich folk. Dis one was one of de first 'ee made, just to see if it would sell. 'Ee used a cah'pet needle, like dat one, but stainless steel so it would last. It didn't sell, you see - de rich folk, dey wanted double-edge blades like on de little plastic swords, an' my late 'usband was a jewl-ah, not a smith. So 'ee cast de double-edge blades dey wanted in sil-vah an' chased dem in gold an' made dem look like Excalibah an' sam'rai swords an' all sorts of little nonsense t'ings. Dey sold well aftah - tho' I suppose de sil-vah blades tah-nished, even'chally. Serves dem right, I t'ink."

     Liz giggled, hefting the little rapier and looking it over. "Ooo... It's got a little pad inside the cup, here, and a little crossbar! And the grip feels like it's made of leather!"

     Mrs. Duran nodded, snapping the empty box shut and handing it to me. "It is. My late 'usband was from England, and 'ee was all wrapped up in dat mee-dee'val nonsense," she replied, rolling her eyes briefly. "I t'ink 'ee wanted to be a fay-mous sword-may'kah back in de days of chivalry an' all dat rot. But 'is father was a jewl-ah, and 'is father before, and 'is father before..." Mrs. Duran shook her head, and smiled at Liz. "Yours now, little one. It'll be a bit bett'ah on a cat, I t'ink, an' will certainly look bett'ah in Mistah Donovan's lapel dan a cah'pet needle an' a numbah-eight uphol'st'ry bead."

     "Thank you very much, Mrs. Duran," Liz replied.

     "You're quite welcome, little one," Mrs. Duran replied, and with a jingle of beads and bangles, she spun on her heel and strode out of the apartment.

     I stared after Mrs. Duran for the longest moment, then finally shook my head and laughed. "Alright, I'm convinced. You, she likes. Me, I think she could live without, but you, she likes."

     Liz giggled. "She likes you, too, I think. Can't tell you how I know... It's just something in her voice. But she likes you, too, I think."

     I chuckled again. "I'll take your word for it, my little polygraph machine. For now, let's head over to the mall and see if we can't get the furniture we need."

     We talked a bit more about what we might need while we were looking through the mall. Since the building had a look and feel like walking back into time into the 1930's, I splurged and invested in an actual wood roll-top desk, and some other furniture to match. There wasn't much, of course - after all, there simply wasn't a lot of room in the apartment to fit anything. On the other hand, the small amount of furniture meant we could take advantage of the 'same day delivery' service at Carstairs Furniture in the mall, and get it all delivered before it got dark. Still, with the more "modern" accessories of vid-phone and portable computer easily concealed inside the roll-top and a couple of cheap framed pictures of Bogart on the walls, we were in business. Getting the phones hooked up wasn't much of a problem - it was the 22^nd century, after all, and I'd already told the phone company I'd be moving the service when we moved into the motel. All I had to do was plug in the lines, then call the phone company on the cellular in my car, give them the verification number on my bill, and tell them where I needed my old service transferred. An hour later, the phone jacks were live.

     Of course, that wasn't all we came back from the mall with. Liz, the perfect advisor, had me go through the various stores to get the basics I'd lost in the fire. Soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, towels, a new portable computer and single-sheet color printer, pens, paper, envelopes... And, of course, about a hundred other small items that I probably would have taken days or weeks to remember as I noticed items I needed - like a new pen-knife for my pocket, a new alarm clock for the night-stand, and a little cuttle-stone for Liz to nibble on from time to time to keep her incisors short.

     Since we still had an hour or two of light left to the day, I took Liz in for a brief checkup with her doctor over at the Biotronics clinic (my excuse being that it would be good to make sure there were no long-term complications from the smoke inhalation she'd gotten from the fire). Liz complained that it wasn't necessary and she felt fine, of course, but I simply ignored her. So, while Liz was otherwise occupied, I used the phone in the car to make a call to Julia Patterson of Patterson's Miniatures, and try to set up a surprise for Liz. To my surprise, Julia seemed to be expecting the call - of course, in retrospect, she did deal with muses and their owners on a regular basis. She probably knew I was going to try to surprise Liz with some of the things she'd rejected yesterday, it was just a matter of when I might find the chance to do it. As to her still being in the shop, though, I'd already known she would be there. She ran a Cyberdyne Model 2830 Portable CAD-CAM in the back of her shop to make all her miniature furniture and houses, and they were not quiet when they were switched on, nor were they something you could just turn on and walk away from like a microwave oven. Sunday afternoon and evening was the best time for her to run her CAD-CAM and create her little masterpieces, as it was the slowest time of the week for customers.

     It was as difficult to surprise Liz with anything as it had been to surprise Cleo, really. Liz was always with me, all of the time. But, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to go through with the notion that had occurred to me in the motel room two weeks ago. One phone-call to Patterson's arranged everything I'd need, though I had to be a bit conservative on what I was going to get. Liz wouldn't like it if I blew too much money on something like this. She might consider it frivolous - I wasn't sure. I wanted her to be happy, not worry that I'd blown money on something we didn't really need.

     I picked Liz up at the vet - she'd only been waiting fifteen minutes, but for a muse separated from her owner, that was an eternity. Liz was annoyed at having to have a physical when she felt fine, and was even more annoyed when she saw a box in the back seat that I refused to explain or even talk about. The final straw, however, was when I told her I had a surprise for her, put her in the bathroom, and closed the door on her.

     "But I don't wanna wait in the bathroom!" Liz wailed from behind the closed door.

     I winced - her tiny little voice sounded almost at the verge of tears. Though she normally seemed alright, in recent days, there had been times she seemed... Strained, almost. "Liz, it's alright, really - it's just for a minute. I want you to be surprised."

     Liz muttered something too quiet for me to make out beyond the door - but judging by her tone, it wasn't very nice.

     I sighed. No muse likes to be separated from their owner for any long period of time (Constance used to hate it when I was a kid and had to go to school, but she knew it was necessary and made sure I left on time every morning anyway). Still, this was necessary. It was something I had promised myself - and something I was going to do.

     Finally, I was done. It had taken some careful work with a stylo to poke the buttons and make sure everything was plugged in and working right, but finally I was satisfied it was. I closed the roll-top, then stepped over to the bathroom door. "Alright, Liz, you can come out, now," I called, opening the door.

     Liz buzzed out of the bathroom in a flutter of hummingbird wings, then zipped around our little apartment, looking here and there. "Ummm... I don't see anything new. So what's the surprise?"

     I grinned and opened up the roll-top. "Well, if you're going to be my partner, you should at least have your own office space to work in," I replied, and waved a hand at the roll-top's contents.

     "Oooo!" Liz yelped, and buzzed over to land on the desk and take a look. Inside was her own miniature desk, chair, and her little computer - my portable was plugged into the phone line and printer, and her machine was plugged into the LAN port of my machine with a null-modem cable. Julia Patterson didn't make modern vid-phones at Liz' scale (though it was possible to do so, there were wrist-phones, after all). So, instead, I'd gotten Liz a little 'candlestick' phone to match the decor, and a little battery-powered analog clock that was a miniature of a desk-clock from the 1930's. And sitting beside all that was another of Patterson's "baby grand" pianos - and all the ragtime sheet music Patterson had was sitting inside the bench. Julia had whipped up a long, "walk-in" closet that would fit inside one of the pigeonholes in the roll-top, and I'd wedged it in securely. Inside was a fairly complete assortment of the same dresses and shoes and other items Liz had lost in the fire, plus a few other items in her style hidden in the back to surprise her as she explored it's contents over the next few days. To top it all off was a small couch and a bed, both of which Nellie (Julia's muse) had assured me were quite comfortable. Basically, I'd replaced all the muse-furniture we had gotten from Patterson's before that we had lost when our house burned down, and a bit more, besides. I already knew that Biotronics had given Liz 'quirks' for clothes and furniture - all muses had quirks for something, it was part of what made each one an individual. Liz had lost everything, and as uncomfortable as that notion made me, I imagined it would be worse for a tiny little muse who had nothing else to begin with, despite the brave face she might put on it all.

     Liz ooh-ed and aah-ed at everything that was there for several minutes, then finally buzzed up before my face, her little sapphire eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you, honey. Thank you for everything," she said, and nuzzled my nose softly.

     "You're welcome, Liz," I replied with a smile. I held out my hand, and Liz landed, then sat in my palm, wiping her eyes as she looked over her new little office.

     "But... Ummm..."

     "Yes?"

     "Can we put the bed on the nightstand, by your head?"

     "Of course, Liz."

     "Ummm... And can we have my desk and chair over there, and my piano over there?"

     "Of course, Liz."

     "Ummm... And can we-"

     I laughed, interrupting her. "Anything you want, Liz. Anything."

     Liz' little phone rang, and she buzzed out of my palm and over to the desk. "Ooo! A call!"

     "Probably a wrong number, Liz," I replied, chuckling. Liz' little 'candlestick' phone had a switch in the back to turn off the ringer and the vid-phone had a 'Silent-Take-Message' mode, so we'd be able to sleep. With 250 million people in San Angeles, you can get a lot of wrong numbers at weird hours of the night.

     "Think positive, honey," Liz shot back with a grin, then picked up her little candlestick phone and held the receiver to her ear. "Donovan Detective Agency, this is Elizabeth, how can I help you?"

     I grinned. I could see it in her stance and hear it in her voice - she was finally happy.

     "Uh-huh?" Liz said, listening. "Okay. Yes, he just got it back on. Me, too. Uh-huh? Uh-huh? Okay, I'll tell him. Bye-bye!" she replied, then hung up her little phone.

     "What is it, Liz?"

     "You hooked up the phone just in time, handsome. You got a case."

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