Hidden Moon

4

A pall hung over the city the next day, the whole day, a gray that would not go away, would not be scrubbed out of the sky, no matter what. A breeze came up around noon, but the pall didn’t move. The wind rustled some trees and then stopped abruptly. The buildings were mute. They were resting, casting no shadows and finding no light. A few faded off in the distance, disappearing into the murk. Blurred at the edges, the city was silent in its center, the only noise the whistle of a traffic cop warning pedestrians out of the empty street.

After a day like that, the night came straight down, a deep black velvet blanket dropped from above. No sense of darkness creeping in from the east, street by street. The city, the buildings, the roads and alleys, even the river, all dissolved rapidly into a deeper gloom, the sky never touched with the final color that sometimes appears beneath the clouds on normal evenings. No sense of sunrise or sunset, no rhythm; the day simply disappeared. It went from gray to black in a heartbeat. Finally, a window twinkled, then a few more. Out of the gloom, building shapes emerged, like miners struggling from a coal mine that had collapsed, leaving them gasping for air.

I was on the street, walking in the darkness with no place to go and damned irritable about it. A few people clustered around a stall on the corner, one of those small stalls that sell little snacks, bread, fried cakes. The crowd fell silent when I walked up; one or two gave me ugly looks. The others moved away as if my presence were diseased. Inside the stall, lit by a row of candles, a woman was straightening the cakes on the shelf along the back. When she turned around and saw me, she made a low sound of disgust.

“It’s supposed to be a day off, Inspector. Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“I’m happy to see you, too. Close up shop. We have to talk.”

“Now? It’s my busiest time. It’s a holiday, in case you’ve forgotten. People are in a good mood for a change, and they like standing around my place. If I have to close up, I’ll lose money, and I can’t afford that. Come back later, around eleven o’clock.”

“I know the holiday calendar, thank you very much. I said now; I meant it.” I blew out several candles.

She studied my face. “Why do you make my life so miserable? What have I ever done to you?”

Someone behind me spat. I looked to see who it was, but it was too dark. I turned back to the woman. “You complain a hell of a lot, you know that? Close up this crummy shop, or I’ll throw your goods in the street and cite you for wasting the people’s resources.”

Without another word, she dropped the cloth curtain over the front and stormed out of the stall. “This is unfair, you’ll ruin me!” Her voice was barely under control, strands of hair stuck to the sweat on her forehead. Her fists clenched in anger.

“Over there.” I pushed her across the street and into an alley. When we were in complete darkness, hidden from view, I let go of her arm. “Overdid it, don’t you think?”

“You have a problem?” She straightened her hair and smoothed her apron. “I’m the one who should be offering criticism. Every time we have a meeting, I end up black and blue.”

“What have you got?”

“Plenty. But I don’t want to tell you here.”

“Where?”

“At the river. In an hour.”

“Are you really making money?”

“None of your business.” She walked back out to the street, rubbing her arm.