The Empress File

over.
    The Devil. A man with a goat’s head and horns and bat wings, with a man and a woman chained to his throne. Usually interpreted as bondage to base emotions—greed, for example, or the urge to personal power.
    “Present,” she said, and flipped the second card.
    The Nine of Swords. A woman sitting up in bed, weeping, nine swords racked on the wall behind her. She’s suffering great losses of all kinds, as are people who are important to her. All of it’s accompanied by great anguish. Dessusdelit nodded.
    “Future,” she said, and flipped the third card.
    The Ten of Swords. The body of a man on theground, with ten swords protruding from his back and neck. Final ruin.
    “Final outcome,” she said. Her hand paused at one card, but she stopped without turning it, moved to another, paused again, and flipped it over.
    The Tower of Destruction. The lightning bolt striking the tower.
    “My old friend,” she said weakly. “I’ve seen it a lot lately.”
    I reached forward and turned over the card she’d almost chosen. The Sun. A card of success.
    “You almost chose this card. Why didn’t you?”
    “I… don’t know,” she said.
    “You made a choice in the recent past that perhaps led to these problems you’re experiencing. That’s reflected in this choice, isn’t it?”
    She was silent for a moment, staring unseeingly at the cards, then nodded.
    “I made the choice,” she said.
    It was as close as anyone would ever get to a confession. Hill and St. Thomas had killed Harold and Sherrie. But Dessusdelit had made the call. The mayor got shakily to her feet and started toward the door. LuEllen, solicitous, asked, “What are you going to do?”
    “I don’t know,” Dessusdelit said.
    “Could I give you some… advice? Something to think about?”
    Dessusdelit stopped with her hand on the doorknob, looked carefully at LuEllen, then nodded.
    “I was once involved in a situation… well, it wasn’t the best situation, and there were some police involved. I don’t want to say more. But I will tell you something about the American legal system: It’s quite difficult to convict anyone of anything, and when time passes, it becomes almost impossible. You know what I did, when I had my… trouble? I went away. And nobody really looked for me. It was too much trouble, I guess. I went back four or five years later, talked to some people who were involved with me, and it was like… nobody even remembered that the police once were looking for me. Nobody cared.”
    “You’re saying I should go away?”
    “I don’t know what your problems are exactly,” LuEllen said. “I’m just saying that… there are options. There are some really wonderful places in the world and here in the United States. Longstreet isn’t everything.”
    Dessusdelit nodded a last time, stood silently for a few more heartbeats, then said, “Thank you,” and walked out.
    When she was on the levee, LuEllen turned tome and said, “She told Hill to kill Harold and the woman, Sherrie.”
    “Yes. I think that’s what she was telling us,” I said. “What was all that bullshit about running from the cops?”
    “Give me the car keys,” LuEllen interrupted. “C’mon, quick.”
    I handed her the keys. “Where’re you going?”
    “After Dessusdelit,” she said hastily. “You call Bobby. Ask him to monitor Dessusdelit’s phones. We want to know if she’s going anywhere tonight or if anybody’s coming over.”
    L U E LLEN WAS GONE for four hours. I filled the boat’s diesel tanks and got some gas for the auxiliary generator, then climbed up on the top deck with a sketchbook. John called in the early afternoon.
    “Two things,” he croaked, as though he were losing his voice. “We identified Harold and Sherrie. Marvel and I stayed away, though. Sherrie’s brother did it. He freaked out and told the cops that Sherrie was screwing Hill and about how all this weird shit was going down in Longstreet.… I suspect the deputies will be calling on Hill—or the Longstreet cops will.”
    “You didn’t tell her brother?”
    “We didn’t tell him anything except that we’d heard it on the radio. I told him that he had to make the identifications because Marvel couldn’tstand to do it, and I didn’t know either one of them. He went along.”
    “Was it bad?”
    “Man, Marvel is fucked up. I’m going to have to take some time with her.”
    “Jesus, John, I’m sorry…”
    “And there’s the other thing,” he said.