“Oh-oh-oh, shiiiit,” Josh slurred, rubbing his bottom with two hands. He’d landed in a shallow puddle and his dirty jeans were now soaked. “Not funny.” Dazedly, he struggled for a moment before he pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and put it onto his concaved belly to save it. He smacked dry lips together. “Got any more Pepsi? Hey, you okay?”
Lightning flashed, illuminating the brewery, and Misty scrunched her nose up at the disgusted, slack-jawed look on Josh’s face. Affectionately, she ruffled his long, stringy dark hair with one hand. “Yeah. ’Cept for my ass is wet too.” She sat back, enjoying the feeling of ice running through her veins as the drugs in her system fuzzed the world around her and cranked up the blessed white noise in her head. An overwhelming sense of peace enveloped her.
Josh’s head lolled sideways and he stared at his girlfriend, his glassy eyes blinking with exaggerated slowness and glinting in the low light. He plucked at the dank tank top that clung to her body like a second skin. “Your everything is wet and I want a kiss.” He puckered up and made a kissing sound, but lost interest in the kiss only a second later.
She snorted and tried to snatch away his cell phone, but missed when he shifted away. His clarinet, and everything else they’d owned had been sold ages ago. Everything but his stupid phone…that he didn’t even use. “Gimme it!” she whined. “I want to take your picture, and then we need some tunes.”
“Why?” Josh regarded her skeptically before staring at the ceiling, his mouth sagging as he continued to stare off into nothing, looking like a zombie.
“Damn, Joshie.” Misty chuckled. “You shouldn’t have taken that second hit.” She tried to sit up and made it on her third attempt. “You’re too wasted.”
Eventually, a slow smile formed on his face—the only outward sign that what she’d said had registered—and he laughed quietly at himself. “Yeah.”
Lightning flashed, and for a second Misty caught a glimpse of the husky teenage boy who’d come to this city with her more than two years before, instead of the emaciated, scraggily bearded man next to her. Then she blinked, and the normal Josh was back. “Whoa,” she whispered to herself, her eyes going owlish, wondering what exactly was in the heroin they’d just taken. “Fuck-fucking f-fentanyl. Holy shit.”
“Mmm?”
“Gimme the phone and say cheese.” This time she managed to snatch the phone off his belly and take a sloppy picture, pushing random buttons until the flash went off.
“Don’t!” Josh hissed. Guardedly, he glanced around, suddenly hyperaware of his surroundings. “Someone’ll steal it.”
“Who’s gonna take it? It’s raining too hard for anyone to be out, and it’s practically deserted in here tonight.” From their place in the shadows, Misty did her best to follow his line of sight. The room was empty except for her and Josh, and a sleeping drunkard named Crisco, who was sprawled out on the floor nearby, snoring. She’d nearly overlooked him. Like one of the many dilapidated pieces of furniture that littered the floor, Crisco spent so much time in the brewery that nobody even noticed him anymore.
Misty squinted when she heard a noise coming from the far end of the room. A lone man entered, but stayed along the far wall, splashing through several puddles as he walked.
Josh reached out for the phone, but let his arm fall to his side when Misty stepped away. “Gotta pee,” she giggled quietly, and headed toward a tall concrete pillar a dozen feet away.
She staggered as she walked, intent on using the phone as a flashlight but unable to work the buttons in time. It wasn’t easy to see enough to navigate the floor, but in between the blinding flashes of lightning that brightened the room it wasn’t pitch black, but an eerie, inky blue tone that made her shiver. She managed to situate herself behind a concrete pillar before peeling down her Daisy Duke denim shorts, and began to squat. Suddenly the scent of stale urine and feces wafted up to her and made her gag. Someone else had used this spot as a toilet recently, and she aborted her mission with a grunt of revulsion.
Afraid of what she might step in, she moved a large step away and began to tug up her shorts to find a better location. With one hand she pushed her wet hair out of her face and glanced up to see a second man had joined the first at the far side of the room. They spoke quietly for a few seconds. A burst of lightning chased away the darkness just in time for her to see the shorter man hand something in a thick white envelope to the other.
Unfazed by the apparent drug deal, she unsteadily lifted her foot to check it for shit, human or otherwise. She silently hoped for dog shit, which smelled far better. A crack of thunder exploded directly overhead, startling her, and Misty let out a surprised squawk as she tipped over. The phone flew out of her hand when she hit the ground, landing on all fours.
“Ugh.” She blindly felt around for the phone, hoping she wouldn’t find the crap pile first. Grabbing the phone, she stuffed it into her front pocket. The fall, and the stench, and mostly the drugs coursing through her system caused her stomach to lurch and she leaned back against the pillar. Panting slightly, she closed her eyes as the coolness of the pockmarked concrete seeped through her clothes and its roughness bit into her damp skin.
“Hey!” Josh piped up from the darkness, his voice sounding wobbly.
She opened her eyes and was about to answer her boyfriend, when she saw one of the men from the drug exchange snap his head in their direction at the sound of Josh’s voice, then freeze. The other man strode out of the room without a second glance and disappeared into the night.
“How about some for me?” Josh said loudly, his words slamming into each other.
Misty felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end when the remaining man strode deliberately in Josh’s direction. Halfway there, he stopped, his head turning from side to side. He’d clearly lost Josh in the shadows.
Misty remained silent and bit her lower lip as she quietly situated herself so that her body was behind the pillar, but she could still see her boyfriend and the stranger. A few more seconds passed, and all she could hear was the pounding of her heart and the pouring rain as it lashed against the building.
“Hello?” the man said quietly, his voice deep and scratchy, his eyes searching the darkness, his neck craned.
Josh didn’t answer, and Misty held her breath.
Then, just as the man began to turn to leave, lightning flashed again, illuminating the entire room, including a smiling, reclining Josh, who was scratching his neck with both hands.
“Were you talking to me, kid?” This time the man’s voice was loud and clear as he strode over and stopped right in front of Josh. The stranger tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy as he peered down at him.
“How about sharing some of that dope?” Josh asked, laughing as though the mere fact that he was asking was the funniest thing in the world. “It’s nice to share.”
Misty’s eyes widened. Josh never stuck his nose in other people’s business. They’d seen all sorts of things, horrible things, in the places they’d crashed around the city. But they didn’t really see them because they were minding their own business. That kept them safe. They had learned to be alone…together. But tonight Josh was so, so trashed, that he was being stupid.
Rooted in place, the man let out a deep sigh and rubbed the back of his neck with the palm of his hand.
“By the way, nice suit. But we don’t have a dress code.” Finding himself terribly funny, Josh laughed riotously. “Never mind, buddy,” he garbled. Josh briskly waved his hand in front of him like a king dismissing his unworthy subject. “Beat it.”
Earsplitting thunder roared so loudly it was as though the sky itself was breaking in two.
“No, no.” The man shook his head. “I have something for you.” The stranger bent over and picked up a large brick from a pile next to Josh’s feet. Without another word, he hefted the brick over his head and brought it crashing down with all his weight behind it, careening it into Josh’s skull with a sickening, squishing thu
d.
The sound of Josh’s head being split wide open was like a watermelon exploding against a wall, splatter making it all the way against Misty’s pillar. Misty clamped her hand over her mouth, her head already thrown back in a silent, horrified scream.
Hot urine streamed down her legs, and her entire body shook.
Lightning flashed and the man noticed a bum unmoving, passed out cold on the floor nearby. With the dripping, bloody brick still held tightly in his hand, he gently placed it into one of the bum’s limp hands. He righted himself, and with his clean hand, plucked his cell phone from his pocket to make a call.
Misty felt her world turn upside down amidst crackling thunder.
The man’s calm voice grew fainter and fainter as he exited the Dixie Brewery.
* * *
Detective Lejeune sighed as she hit her left turn signal and eased onto Tulane Avenue. “I know, I know, Landry. I’m sorry.” She wanted to turn up the volume on her cell phone but gave up, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she navigated the nearly empty streets through the pounding late summer storm. It had been raining for hours, and anyone who didn’t want to get soaked was already tucked safely inside somewhere.
Thunder rolled overhead, and she had to repeat her apology. It was 10:30 p.m. and Adele should have been home hours ago, but a last-minute clue was calling her to make one more stop before she got up close and personal with a glass of white wine, her favorite chair, her son’s sleepy murmurs and her husband’s warm lips.
Landry had been dealing with a grumpy three-and-a-half-year-old alone all night. He was an excellent father, who never complained about doing chores like laundry or vacuuming. But Adele, whose hours were much more predictable than the homicide detective’s, was the designated “bath giver and reader of bedtime stories” and when she had to work late, Landry struggled on his own.
Adele worriedly chewed her lower lip. “Did you feed him something healthy for dinner and give him a kiss good night for me?”
An indignant snort filled her ear. “Course I did.”
The healthy dinner part was a lie and she knew it. Left to his own devices, Landry, much to Logan’s delight, would have definitely selected pizza. Adele was quite convinced that she had the only daycare-age child in New Orleans who could order pizza on the telephone and never forgot to ask for extra cheese and light sauce. She smiled inwardly.
“Hey, we both have the day off tomorrow. How ’bout we do some fishin’ on Lake Ponchartrain?”
Adele stopped at a red light and looked skyward. “Are you planning on building an ark tonight?”
“Oops. Right. Okay, the movies then.”
“Deal.”
“But no cartoons. We watched the Little Mermaid tonight. Twice.”
Adele snickered. “He loves that movie. And don’t pretend you don’t know all the songs by heart too.”
“Ugh!”
She could practically hear his frown.
“It’s not a very manly movie for his favorite.”
“Well, he’s not a man yet, so I’m not too concerned. He can learn to enjoy your beloved Reservoir Dogs when he’s…never, actually. That movie is disgusting.”
Landry laughed.
“Okay, hon, I’m almost there.” She hit the accelerator. “Unless I get very lucky, I’ll be home in about forty-five minutes.”
“I should have my girlfriend out of here by then.”
“If she’s cute, don’t have her leave on my account.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“See you soon.” Arriving at the Dixie Brewery, Adele hung up and pulled in behind an empty police cruiser with its red lights flashing.
“Jesus,” she muttered to herself. “What kind of douche bag cops toss people out into this sort of storm?” She grabbed an elastic band from her bag and pulled the wavy hair that nearly hit her shoulders into a messy ponytail.
Adele had finally started getting used to working without a partner. Hers had retired three months ago and the department had yet to assign her someone permanent, allowing her to work alone as an experiment, of sorts, in the face of ever-shrinking budgets. She liked it, and was as productive as ever, but there were times, like this, when she wouldn’t have minded a little backup. Just in case.
Having worked through the entire night before, she was bone-tired. Being tired, she knew, led to mistakes that could be deadly. Adele mentally pumped herself up for a few seconds before leaving the car.
The detective entered the brewery cautiously, her powerful flashlight carving a path through the darkness. She kicked away an empty syringe and a few beer cans with a look of disgust as she scanned her surroundings carefully. Halfway into the room, Adele heard a low keening sound that increased in volume as she went. By the time she hit the doorway to the adjacent room, the keening had turned into outright screams.
Gun drawn, she sprinted forward.
“Keep whoever it is back!” a male police officer boomed, sending his partner to intercept Adele.
Adele’s eyes widened as she watched one of the two uniformed cops, Officer Jay Morrell, who, unfortunately, she knew from her academy days, deliver a stunning kick to Crisco’s chest.
Crisco’s screams shifted to broken howls and coughs, and he struggled to crawl away from Morrell, who yanked him back by his hair.
“What the hell, Morrell?” Adele roared. “That’s just Crisco!” Every cop in the city who wasn’t fresh off the turnip truck knew that Crisco was essentially harmless.
Morrell kicked Crisco in the stomach and Crisco began to vomit. “Let’s try this again,” Morrell snarled. “Why’d ya kill ’im?”
Thunder shook the walls.
“Stop right there!” a young officer with a short Afro and wide, scared eyes barked at Adele. “Stop!” Dutifully, she froze, and in that same second, the officer seemed to realize she had a gun in her hand and drew his, his hand unsteady.
Lightning flashed.
Adele quickly threw her hands in the air, her mind split between what Morrell was doing and saying and trying to keep this obvious rookie from shooting her. “Whoa! Hang on! I’m NOPD. A detective.” With an exaggerated motion, she glanced down at the badge on her belt. “Detective Adele Lejeune, CID, Juveniles.” She rattled off her badge number a little frantically.
Doubt overtook the rookie’s face, and he looked over his shoulder at his older partner in question. “Jay?”
“Tell him who I am, Morrell,” Adele growled as she ever so slowly holstered her weapon.
Crisco killed someone? That made no sense at all. Even from where she was standing she could smell the booze over his general body stench, which was saying a lot. She doubted Crisco could even stay upright for more than a few seconds at a time, much less harm anyone.
Lightning flashed again, and this time Adele caught a glimpse of a body on the floor behind Morrell. Crap.
Crisco began to squirm in Morrell’s grasp and the cop tightened his hold, twisting his fingers into Crisco’s greasy blond hair. Then he grunted unhappily at his partner. “She’s a cop. A de-tec-tive.” Childishly, Morrell drew out every syllable of the word, making it clear that he resented the fact that he had yet to receive his own gold shield.
Crisco held his arms up weakly as if to ward off future blows, but the effort only drew Officer Morrell’s attention back in his direction. The cop stuck his face close to Crisco’s and hissed in a low whisper, “Remember what I said about takin’ back what you…”
But the last of Morrell’s words were lost to the sound of the thunder.
Then, in a move so quick that it was over before she could intervene, Morrell slammed his fist into Crisco’s face. The crashing blow was so brutal that several teeth flew from Crisco’s mouth and scattered across the floor. He went sprawling, face-first, into a sludgy puddle near a broken window.
Adele flinched at the extreme violence and fury sang through her. “What the blue fuck, Morrell? He’s not even fighting you! You haven’t even cuffed him!”
S
he moved to stop Morrell’s attack when the rookie put himself in Adele’s path once again. Hackles rising even further, her eyes flashed dangerously. “Lay a single finger on me, rookie, and I will break. Your. Nose. And put your stupid gun away before you shoot yourself,” she ground out.
He obeyed instinctively.
“I don’t care if that swine Morrell is your partner, we need to stop him.”
“Get over yourself, Lejeune,” Morrell spat. “This drunkard was in the middle of confessin’ to killin’ that nasty junkie over there when you interrupted us. Wasn’t he, Billy-Boy?” He rolled his eyes when his partner opened his mouth with an affronted look. “I mean, Officer Hobson.”
“Y-yes.” The rookie seemed a little confused, but immediately backed up his partner. “Yes. Absolutely. I heard him.” He nodded decisively at Adele. “Crisco hit that guy with a brick and bashed his head in. And that’s a fact.”
“Shit.” Morrell kicked at Crisco, whose jaw was barely out of the water and resting at an unnatural angle. “He’s unconscious.”
“I wonder why!” Adele elbowed Officer Hobson out of her way then stalked over to Morrell and shoved him back a step. It was like trying to move an oak tree. “Have you lost your mind? Are you trying to kill him?” With a growl, she spun and bent to check Crisco for a pulse. Her eyes fluttered shut in relief when she found one.
She gave the unconscious man’s shoulder a small, apologetic squeeze, but didn’t try to move him. He was okay for the moment, and she had no idea what injuries were brewing below the surface. From what she’d seen already Crisco would be lucky to walk away with missing teeth and a broken jaw. God knows what had happened before she arrived.
Morrell lifted his chin defiantly. “He was resistin’ arrest. Look at my hand.”
She shined her flashlight on the appendage in question and did, in fact, see what looked like a small bite mark.
Morrell shivered with distaste. “Now I’m gonna need a rabies shot.”
“Bullshit!” she shot back, straightening. “If Crisco was resisting anything, it was getting his ass beaten by you.” Livid, she clenched her jaw and did her best to control her temper. Her knuckles whitened around her heavy flashlight. It was all she could do not to knock that smug look off Morrell’s face.
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