Dead Beat (Flynt and Steele Mystery Book 1)

by Micheal Maxwell

  They’d laughed about that from time to time—how Noah dumped his girlfriend the following day so he could take a chance on a girl he hadn’t even spoken with yet. It all worked out in the end, and he and Jacki were engaged seven months later after he graduated with a major in Police Science.

  “Are you gon’ do it?” Jacki asked after she sulked for about thirty seconds.

  “Do what?”

  “Get new partner f-f-fired?”

  He grinned. Of course, she was concerned with someone else. Even when she was in her worst moods, Jacki’s heart was larger than anyone else Steele ever met.

  “I don’t want to,” Steele answered honesty. “But, I don’t know what to do, if I want to keep this job.”

  “You figure it out,” she said. “Know you will.”

  Steeled started to walk towards her, but she directed her wheelchair to the bedroom. It was her sign that she was done for the day. Steeled watched her go and when she was out of sight, Steele gripped his sandwich tightly and threw it hard against the kitchen wall.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Flynt couldn’t break his gaze away from the young boy on the other side of the glass. The kid’s name was Josh. Currently, he was nervously tapping his hands on the table where he was sitting. His mother was in the room with him. She looked around the place as if she didn’t trust it—like the walls might come rushing in to crush them at any moment.

  Flynt didn’t blame her. He knew people reacted in different ways during their first visit to an interrogation room.

  Josh was brought in to the station fifteen minutes ago. He’d been visited by a plain-Jane uniformed cop along with his friend Ryan. Flynt wasn’t sure about the details of it all. He was pretty sure Steele called in the favor first thing in the morning before the kids could leave for school.

  Standing on the other side of the door, Flynt could smell the donuts and coffee that were scattered around the precinct. He’d already enjoyed some of each. He feared he drank too much coffee, though. Knowing what was about to happen, he felt on edge.

  Out of nowhere, Steele appeared at Flynt’s left. “This one’s Josh, right?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Flynt confirmed.

  “Where’s the other one?”

  “He’s over in Room D.”

  “Names?”

  Flynt double-checked his unicorn notebook, even though he already knew the answer. “Josh Reynolds and Ryan Brolin. Funny coincidence, huh?”

  “Coincidence?”

  “Yeah, they’re the opposite of—”

  But Flynt stopped himself. He was learning a lot about Steele and one of the things he was pretty sure about was that he hated small talk and random facts. But, in the end, Flynt couldn’t help himself. “Like the actors, Josh Brolin and Ryan Reynolds. Only in reverse, see?”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Never mind.” Flynt snapped his eyes back to the lonely kid in the scary room. He thought the mother next to him might be sort of pretty if she wasn’t so scared.

  The kid looked so absolutely mortified that Flynt felt a strange desire to protect him, even though the task at hand was the exact opposite. The detectives were here to crack Josh and Ryan open like an egg. Flynt figured he could be delicate about it as long as Steele wasn’t around.

  Steele wandered down to the next room, Room D. He peered through the glass for a moment, studied the kid sitting on the other side, and came back to stand beside Flynt.

  “Josh looks a little more combative,” Flynt said.

  “Really? How do you figure? He looks scared out of his mind.”

  “Tapping his fingers, it shows pent up aggression and impatience. He might start off slow and sacred, but he’s gonna blow if we hold him long enough.”

  “OK. Well then, how about I take Ryan and you go for Josh?” Comrade offered.

  “Absolutely not,” Noah snapped. “How about you go grab some coffee and I’ll talk to them both.” He stopped there and let out a sigh. Flynt thought he’d been a little hostile in his comment. Maybe Steele was noticing it after the fact. “How about this. Check out front and see if Ryan’s parents are here yet. We’re on hold with him until they get here.”

  Flynt caught on immediately. In the same way, Flynt did not want Steele around when he questioned the boys, Steele also did not want Flynt around. They were both in for a pair of pretty tough interviews if neither detective wanted the other to be around.

  “How do you want to play this, then?” Flynt asked. “I’ll be good cop?”

  “No way. That stuff doesn’t work like it used to, especially with kids. The whole routine has permeated the culture and they catch on like that.” He snapped his fingers. “You ever play volleyball? Don’t answer that. I know you haven’t. Here’s the deal. Not every member of the team is just trying to hit the ball over the net.”

  “Really?”

  “No. That’s the end goal, but a lot of the game is about setting up your teammate. One player sets it high; the other spikes it hard. If all the spikes are coming from me, the kid tunes me out. If you’re going to be in there with me, we’ve got to help each other out here, OK? I set, you spike. You set, I spike. No good cop or bad cop, just plain cop. A so-called bad cop isn’t going to scare a kid like a pair of detectives working together. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Flynt said. He didn’t get it.

  “Good. Now, what were you saying about celebrities… Ryan what?”

  “Ryan Reynolds. The Deadpool guy.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “He was married to Scarlett Johansson? Then Blake Lively?”

  “Of course I know who Scarlett Johansson is. What movie was he…you know what? Forget it.” With that, Noah waved towards the doors. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “Hello,” Steele said, quickly moving to his seat right in front of Josh and his mother. He saw Flynt open his mouth to make a comment, and shot him a look like a viper.

  Don’t you dare, the look said. Flynt saw it and shut his mouth right away.

  “I’m Lieutenant Steele and this is Sergeant Flynt.”

  Ryan grinned. “Flynt and Steele? Are those nicknames?”

  “They’re last names, kid.”

  “Josh!” his mother said. “You’d better be respectful!”

  “I was. Flynt and Steele. Isn’t that how you make a fire? That’s kind of cool.”

  Steele was completely blindsided by the fact that he didn’t even consider it. He turned to his partner with a look of epiphany. “Amazing. Can you believe this kid?”

  Flynt shook his head and shrugged. “Smart.”

  Steele looked at the mother, trying to decide if she was angry at her son for having any reason for being here, or if she was angry with the mean old cops that were here to bully her son.

  “Smart kid you got here,” Steele told her.

  She made a “Humph,” sound and glared at her son.

  “So why is a smart kid like you slingin’ bolt cutters around dead bodies?” Steele said.

  “He was dead when we got there!” The response came quickly. It seemed that he’d had it at the ready for a long time.

  “Oh?” Steele said. “So you admit that you broke into a facility and found a body?”

  Josh was already fired up or at least smoldering. His tapping fingers stopped and were now making little fists under the table. That was good; emotions tended to release the floodgates of information. Steele was not interested in badgering the kid, and as soon as he got a few words out of him, he would ease off and move on to the next room.

  Steele leaned closer. “You know the difference between a felony theft and a misdemeanor?”

  Josh shook his head.

  “Money,” Steele said. “There’s a line. If the stolen property is too valuable, you get bumped up. How much do you think that guitar you yanked was worth?”

  Josh shrank back a little and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “Josh!” the mother exclaimed. “
You said a friend sold you that guitar!”

  “How much is it worth?” Steele asked.

  “Probably not much,” Flynt said. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  Steele wanted to kick Flynt in the guts. Of course, the value of the measly used guitar would not equate to felony charges, but that didn’t matter. When this was done, both the kids were going to be kids free, anyway. No need to prosecute two small-time thieves that were officially scared out of their minds. The investigation wasn’t about broken locks and missing instruments. It was about a body with drumsticks sticking out of it.

  Before Steele could speak up, Flynt moved in for another question.

  “Couldn’t you just ask for a guitar for Christmas or something, Josh?”

  Steeled noted that Flynt’s posture was all wrong. He wasn’t at the table, leaning in aggressively. He wasn’t circling the kid like a vulture. He wasn’t confidently leaning back. Instead, Flynt was awkwardly standing near the back of the room in a timid posture, clutching the notebook to his chest. It was like a nervous kid on a playground, trying to make friends.

  “Does your family celebrate Christmas?” Flynt went on to ask.

  Josh shrugged. “Not really.”

  “What about birthdays?” Flynt almost sounded sad for the boy. He was good-copping it, which was ok as long as he spiked one eventually.

  Josh shrugged again. It was a gesture that Steele was prepared to receive a hundred or so times by the time all of this was over. That’s how it went with kids. Steele didn’t have the patience, so he decided to cut to the chase.

  “Josh, do you know anyone in the band you robbed?”

  “No.” The answer came quickly. Too quick. Like a scared dog barking. Steele was pretty sure he was telling a lie.

  “Ever hear them play?”

  “No.” Another lie.

  “Consider yourself lucky,” Steele said. “So tell me this, Josh. If you never heard them play and didn’t know anyone, how did you know where they kept their equipment?”

  “I didn’t,” the boy said, giving shrug number four. “Ryan is the one that knew. He told me we needed to get some gear if we wanted to take our band to the next level.”

  “Interesting,” Steele said. He genuinely meant it…but he meant it about something different. It usually took just a little longer for kids to rat each other out. Josh was almost primed for the real questions. Just one more nudge should do it.

  “That’s really interesting because Ryan says the whole thing was your idea.”

  “No, it wasn’t!”

  “It’s alright,” Flynt said. “Lieutenant Steele is just messing with you. Would you mind telling us what you saw when you went in there?”

  Steele was furious at Flynt yet, at the same time, his ridiculous tactic appeared to be working. Within a few seconds, Josh described in shocking detail everything that happened. He didn’t have any new information since the crime scene was untouched between the kid’s break-in and the police response, but it was good to get the kid talking.

  Steele hated to admit it, but maybe Flynt was on to something here. Accepting this, Steele decided to tone down his approach.

  When the kid was done, Flynt nodded in appreciation. “Alright, thanks Josh that helps a lot. Now what we really need to know is if you hang around with the Juggalo crowd at all. I know you guys are a Juggalo band, but do you associate with other Juggalo groups?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Have you ever noticed that Juggalos aren’t big fans of Punks?”

  Josh actually grinned. “Yeah. That’s no secret.”

  “So it wouldn’t be crazy for me to say that someone in your crew might want to hurt one of the Border Bigots?”

  “They started it!”

  “They? Who’s ‘they’?”

  “Not all of them. Just their stupid lead singer.”

  “You mean Terry?” Noah asked. “Thorny Bone, lead singer and guitarist of the Border Bigots?”

  This question elicited shrug number five.

  Steele was looking for a chance to jump in with a spike, but he wasn’t being set up. Instead, Flynt went on, playing his own version of the game.

  “We have a theory, Josh. Whoever killed Mark Reagan knew where he was practicing. There’s a chance that the killer told you and Ryan where and when to break-in.”

  “Why would they do that?” Josh asked.

  “To help cover their tracks. They might have even been trying to frame you.”

  “Juggalos don’t frame Juggalos.”

  Steele stifled a laugh, wondering how many other gems like that were bouncing around in the kid’s noggin. “So you’re saying it was another Clown friend that told you guys about the storage unit?” Steele asked.

  “I don’t know who told us! Ryan knew!” He slammed his fists down on the table. His mother jumped and let out an “oh!” of surprise.

  Josh’s outburst came out of absolutely nowhere. Steele forgot how volatile adolescent emotions could be. Right after the violent explosion came a crushing collapse. The kid was like a supernova. He cowered, holding back tears and nearly folded in half at the table.

  “I don’t want to go to jail.”

  His mother folded her arms around her son. Steele found it interesting that she rolled her eyes. Apparently, she was used to this sort of emotional outburst from her son.

  Steele wondered if he pushed the boy too far. He cast a glance at Flynt, then nodded towards the kid, conceding defeat.

  Fine, that looked said. You talk.

  Flynt nodded back, though he was a bit frightened by Josh’s outburst as well. Also, he hated to see children cry, even if they were teens. He wanted to be in the hug with Josh and his mother. He wanted to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, but knowing physical contact of any kind could stir up a lot of trouble for the department. Instead, he continued with the questions.

  “Alright, Josh. You know we’re not going to throw you in jail, right?”

  Josh didn’t answer. His head was on the table resting on his forearms like a pouting kindergartner.

  “We just need to know where Ryan might have gotten his information from,” Flynt said. “Do you have some other friend who has stolen things before? Have you ever heard another kid say something bad about the Border Bigots? Anything helps.”

  “Sit up and answer the man,” his mother said. She was growing exasperated, clearly fed up with her son’s actions.

  Josh did what he was told. He gave each detective a nervous look and muttered two words.

  “Zany Zygotes.”

  Flynt immediately pulled out his notebook. “Zany what?”

  “Zygotes. They’re a bunch of way-older kids. Thrash Metal kind of stuff. Everyone loves them. They even go on tours out of state.”

  “They’re a band?” Steele asked. “Like Juggalos?”

  Ryan nodded in response. Steele stepped closer, apparently forgetting that he gave the floor over to Flynt no more than one minute ago.

  “Got any names?” he asked. “What can you tell us about them?”

  Another shrug and then, after a sniffle or two, Josh said, “They don’t let us hang out with them. Every now and then they have Ryan do them a favor.”

  “Favors?” Flynt asked. “Like what?”

  “Tune their guitars, pick up lunch during practice, stuff like that.”

  “So you’re what, their lackey?”

  Josh shook his head firmly. “Not me. Ryan.”

  “And what about Terry?” Steele snapped his fingers, trying to recall his stage name.

  Flynt jumped in, eager to show that he remembered. “Thorny Bone.”

  “Right. What did you mean by Terry starting it all?”

  Another shrug came before the answer. Flynt could tell by Steele’s posture that the shrugs were starting to make him mad.

  “Ryan saw him pick fights with some of the ’Gotes,” Josh said. “He trashed their gear once.”

  The finger was pointed at Ryan so many times, in
so many contexts, that even Flynt was convinced. It made sense, he supposed. Ryan was only a couple years older, but in kid-years, that was a lifetime of difference.

  “Sergeant?” Steele began, “Let’s go talk to Ryan, what do you say?”

  “Sure,” Flynt said. “Excuse us Josh, Mrs. Reynolds, we’ll be right back.” When he reached the door, he paused and turned back. “You’re off the hook, by the way. You did well.”

  Flynt took great pleasure in seeing the boy let out a relieved breath.

  With the fresh confidence boost to his methods, Flynt made the terrible mistake of feeling as though he was ready for the next interview.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “That wasn’t bad,” Steele said as they headed towards their next interview. “Not even close to what I said we should be doing, but not bad. Just do me a favor, would you? You and I need to be on the same page, day to day, second by second. You switched things up back there. It worked, but that’s a fluke. In the future, if you plan on doing things your own way, tell me first.”

  “I thought that’s how these things normally go.”

  “These things? Wait. Flynt, tell me one thing. Did Bill ever bring you in the room like I just did?”

  “Not really.” Flynt shrugged, looking down at his shoes. “No. Never.”

  Steele ignored the shrug. He’d seen far too many out of Josh Reynolds. “Well, I don’t want to squash your feelings here, but I can see why,” Steele said. “You went totally soft in there. That’s not how we play it with snotty teens. If the kid was a victim or he witnessed something awful, then sure, bring him chocolate milk and tell him he’s a good boy. But that one is a crook in the making.”

  “But he did witness something awful,” Flynt said.

  Noah winced at his own misjudgment. Was his barometer so messed up that he didn’t consider the sight of the dead drummer to be psychologically scarring to a teen…or anyone for that matter? Or was it just a sign of the times that Josh didn’t seem all that shaken by it? Kids saw bodies all the time, only it was normally in the rectangles of TV screens and computers. Noah cut back to the topic. He needed to get this straight before they stepped into the room with Ryan.