Trick of the Light

Trick of the Light by David Ashton Read Free Book Online

Book: Trick of the Light by David Ashton Read Free Book Online
Authors: David Ashton
quarters she always insisted on possessing no matter where they had their lodgings.
    And it had to have a lock. What she did in there was anyone’s guess; commune with the spirits?
    Another mystery was the small leather suitcase she carried by herself everywhere they travelled. That case Sophia kept in the side room as well and when he had made the mistake one day of trying to spring the catch in a London hotel lobby, the Langham no less, while she was powdering her pudenda, the damned woman somehow knew and in a white fury warned him that if he wanted to keep his procreative means intact, he’d best contain his curiosity.
    Or his testicles would pay the price.
    She hadn’t exactly phrased it in such blunt fashion but Magnus had got the message. Yes, indeedy.
    And the other message received was that of the milk cow. These fine young teats of hers, with a tug here and a tug there, brought forth rich reward.
    But it was her milk. She provided. He merely managed the liquid flow. That was his talent.
    Magnus had always been a showman, a gambler, a handsome brute, a lady’s man; he hid his card manipulations behind a ready smile and friendly, open face.
    He was also blessed with a fine baritone voice and eloquent sincerity of speech; he could have been an actor or nostrum salesman but Lady Luck had claimed him as her own.
    For a while.
    Then the damned Civil War had blown the steamboats out of the water; not that he had taken sides, a gambler never takes sides so he cursed Abe Lincoln and Jefferson Davis in equal measure.
    Between them, however, they had wrecked the fine currents that Magnus plied his trade in, and if that were not enough, then came the railroads.
    No romance to the iron horse.
    Where was the full moon shining on the Mississippi water, where a man might wander up to a pilgrim who had made a killing in some cattle deal, had money to burn, whisky on his breath, leaning against the rail dreaming of some woman who was never in a million years his wife, and offer up a friendly game of cards?
    The air would smell of river blossom; some mulatto girl, bare-legged, with long slender arms, slowly washing clothes by the bank, a traveller’s mind wandering to some tryst with such a succulent creature, and in that splendid state of priapic suggestibility he would be a lamb to the slaughter.
    A secluded cabin, a whisky bottle on the table, perhaps some other travelling men, a fresh deck of cards and that sweet thrill when the deal went down.
    No such delight upon a train. Conductors, railway detectives and sour-faced women keeping an eye on their sad-faced husbands.
    In the long years after the war, his luck had gone to hell even with the calculated skill he could bring to bear. He gambled now in saloons where the pilgrims were sharp-eyed and quick tempered.
    Ended up in San Francisco, down by the docks, lost all his money in a game of poker. Some dewy-eyed kid turned over a full house and cleaned the table.
    Magnus walked out of that bar with a five-dollar bill in his shoe, court of the last resort. He was over forty years and running out of luck.
    Somewhere off to the side he could hear a bunch of heathen Chinee squabbling over a game of mah-jong on one of the junk ships. A crescent moon above hooked into the sky, and it seemed as if he was the last man left alive as he walked along the creaking waterfront.
    How long he had wandered, he’d lost count of that. Hours, days, nights, his head was full of dark thoughts: damned Irish stock, Bannerman, a name for someone who carried the flag at the front and died first in battle.
    Found himself, like something in a dream, in front of a tall building that stood alone, composed of slatted wood, weathered by the salt currents of the sea. By the door were pinned cards advertising the wares of various flowers of the night who promised innocence and satisfaction.
    Penetrate the one to achieve the other.
    Then, almost in keeping with the exotic macabre feel of the occasion, a

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