Scarab Chapter XX Page 1

Alsatia 6, July 1992

rencontre: (from the French); the collision of two combatants.

It was not quite dark. The Western Arms’ lodgers began to trickle in, quitting the streets before the violent ones started to prod. Arete sat buried behind a newspaper. The overstuffed chair was lumpy, and had a queer smell. He did not want to know from what. Its green upholstery was dry rotted, held together by accumulated grime. The lighting in the lobby was bad, he could barely make out the print by the twilight that funneled through the open venetian blinds. Occasionally he glanced out the dirty picture window, his eyes adjusting to the light, and the split vision caused by the yellowish blinds. No one took notice him in the dim corner.

Staring at the newspaper, occasionally his mind would wander from what his eyes were seeing. It kept picking at the unsettled odds and ends of the case. One of the newest bits of the puzzle was a second call from Winston to Donzel. He had asked for Arete and been told the detective was on vacation, "but yes he was back in LA and as far as Donzel knew still looking for the printer’s father here in the city". Winston expressed the same surprise Arete and Janus felt, and said he would call back another time. Besides that tidbit, the Lady had been putting pressure on Janus. She wanted an update on their progress. The scholar had put her off, but the language she had used had been blunt if not brutal. She expected loyalty for her money. Although not mentioning Namtar by name, it was obvious she had learned something of the episode. Tailing us most likely, Arete guessed.

About 8:30 Edward shuffled through the front door. At least Arete figured it was him.