Con Game

by Alex Westmore

  Before the dog could leap, a large piece of meat flew out of the darkness and landed with a splat at the feet of the animal, who sniffed at it before devouring it in two large bites. As it licked its chops, the dog began wavering back and forth like a drunk on the street. In less than a minute, it salivated profusely, then wobbled over into the corner and slumped down on its side. As the dog labored to breathe, it whined a moment and then suffered a body-shaking convulsion. It shuddered once more, before gasping its last breath.

  Thirty seconds later, the intruder stepped over the dog’s bulk and peered closely at the vast assortment of guns and knives enclosed in a case made ‘burglar proof’ by a thin, translucent wire running the length of the glass and into an alarm.

  Turning from the case, the dark-clad intruder crept through the shop until he came to an imposing set of European medieval armor, standing watch in the corner opposite the dead Doberman. As a beam of moonlight bounced off the knight, the intruder stood, mesmerized by the ancient beauty and strength of a long-forgotten warrior.

  Shifting ever so slightly, as if afraid to awaken the sleeping Titan, the thief’s hand moved to touch the long, double-bladed ax held in the knight’s left glove. Running his fingers up the handle to the blade, like a man running his fingers along his mistress’s leg, the thief smiled at the sharpness of a blade few knights ever truly mastered as their weapon of choice.

  In an instant, without making a sound, the intruder lifted the ax from the gauntlet and held the weapon in both hands. For a moment, the intruder stared at it, as if doing so might magically transform him to a time when men were chivalrous and women were nothing. Ah, those must have been the days.

  Amazed by the biting sharpness of an ancient relic of man’s bloodier history, he quickly withdrew a cut finger from the blade and gently stuck the digit in his mouth to suck the blood. He smiled at the knowledge that the blade could still hurt—even maim.

  Hoisting the ax over his shoulder, the thief stepped over the dog once more and headed for the window. In the far distance of the dark night, sirens blasted through the air, warning of their approach.

  Turning to the dog, the thief nodded. “Sorry old boy. Must have it.” Hearing the sirens round the corner, the intruder looked at his prize and smiled before scrambling out the window.

  Jumping in the driver’s side of the patrol car, Delta held out the report she’d been

  reading.

  “What is it?” Jan asked.

  “It’s the detective’s report about the pharmacist’s murder a few days ago.”

  “Yuck. Why would you want to read that thing?” Jan screwed up her face and pushed the report away from her. “I’ve got this good book I’ve been rea—”

  “Funny.” Opening the report, Delta ran her finger down the page until she came to the note she was looking for. “It’s a bizarre case.”

  “Most murder cases are.”

  Delta shook her head. “This one feels different. There are some strange things that just don’t add up.”

  “Like the fact that we’re not sure the perp took anything?”

  Delta nodded. “Not that we know of. I believe the killer came after something specific and I think he got it.” Delta looked down at the report, which had various areas highlighted in yellow.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  Flicking on her spot lamp as they cruised in a neighborhood where the streetlights had all been broken, Delta inhaled slowly. “You noticed how perfectly neat every drug cabinet was? He didn’t even rummage around looking for drugs, nor did he just swipe whatever drugs could be found for a quick street sale. I think he knew what he wanted before he got there.”

  “What about the pharmacy inventory?”

  Delta shook her head. “It isn’t finished yet. But I’d bet my truck that there’s a certain drug missing from those cabinets.”

  “So, are you leaning toward a failed burglary?”

  Delta studied the report before answering. “This wasn’t a random killing. I don’t believe that a burglar got caught and had to kill Friedman.”

  “So maybe the motive was murder.”

  “Don’t you think the perp would have at least tried to make it look like a robbery? And if the motive was murder, why in the drugstore? The murderer could have waited outside, instead of risking the confines of the store. Remember how dark the parking lot was?”

  Jan nodded.

  “The killer could have waited, killed Friedman in the darkness of the parking lot, and been long gone before anyone ever knew. Instead, the murderer chose to kill him in the light of the drugstore. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Most murders don’t, Del.”

  Delta pretended not to hear her. “And why did he leave the dagger? A relic like that is a pretty big clue. This guy didn’t stab Friedman with a butcher knife. He killed him with an antique; and a valuable one at that.”

  Jan turned to Delta. “What’s with you?”

  Closing the report, Delta shrugged and looked out the window. Catching crooks was something she was extremely good at, and she prided herself on the length and breadth of her arrest record. As a young girl, she dreamt of arresting bad guys and being a hero. From the first time her grandfather bought her a shiny toy badge from Safeway, Delta had been hooked. She wanted a real one when she grew up, and as soon as she finished college, she went straight into the Police Academy.

  She had never regretted it.

  “It’s the mystery of it all, Jan. Don’t you want to know why Ben Friedman was killed?”

  “Sure, but let the detectives earn their keep. It’s our job to try to prevent crimes. When we can’t, it’s the dicks turn. Give it a rest.”

  Delta did not turn her eyes from the road. “Resting” wasn’t something Delta Stevens did very well. Ever since she took this beat, she felt a duty, an obligation, to the people on it. If there was some kind of crazed maniac going around murdering people, it was up to her to help stop him. She couldn’t simply hand over the case to the detectives and then go about her merry way. She had to do something. It was what made her Delta Stevens.

  “Del? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that Homicide has their hands full with those two murders earlier this month. It won’t hurt if I just think about the evidence, right?”

  Jan laughed. “Right. And I should apply to be the Queen of England.”

  Delta turned toward her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you never mind your own business. Everyone’s business on our beat is your business, Del. The only real question is whose business are you minding this case for?”

  Delta turned away, her fierce loyalty to the District Attorney who put Miles’s murderers away was worn on her sleeve like expensive cufflinks.

  “Ah, now we get to the bare bones of the matter. I know who you’re covering for now. I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out.”

  Delta looked away from Jan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But Delta knew they both knew what, and who, they were talking about.

  “The media is having her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner over the unsolved murders in this city, and District Attorney Pendleton is desperately in need of a suspect.”

  Delta shrugged. “So?”

  “So, it’s re-election time, and wouldn’t it be nice if you could hand a suspect over to her? How close am I?”

  “Pretty close.” Delta said it so quietly, Jan could barely have heard her.

  “Excuse me? Did I hear you say ‘pretty close?’ How about giving full credit where it’s due? I’m on the mark, aren’t I?”

  Delta exhaled a resigned sigh. When she and Alexandria Pendleton had first met, Alexandria needed a clear case in order to convict the cops who were running a drug ring that had killed two officers, and Delta handed her one.

  “Look, if I can help Alex out, then I will. Besides, this last murder is our business now. It happened on our beat, and w
e’re involved in it whether or not we want to be.”

  “Involved? Interesting choice of words.”

  Delta grinned. “You know what I mean.”

  “Why, Delta Stevens, if I didn’t know you were so crazy in love with Megan, I’d think you have a crush on our renowned District Attorney.”

  Delta felt her face flush hot. “Don’t be stupid. I owe her a big favor, that’s all. I believe in paybacks.”

  “I remember.”

  “You may remember, Jan, but you can’t possibly know the debt I feel for the way she put those scum away. She asked for the max, and she got it. Not only did she get it, but she kept me out of it as much as possible. I put my career on the line to find Miles’s killers and she made sure I still wore a badge when the trial was all over. I owe her for that.”

  “I just don’t like how you act when you feel you ‘owe’ someone. From what I understand, she did her job well when she prosecuted those cops. But Del, that’s what the good citizens pay her to do. She didn’t really do anything out of the ordinary.”

  Thinking back to the warehouse, where she was supposed to have been killed, Delta shivered. Not Jan, not Alex, not anyone except Connie, Megan, and Gina knew the extent of her involvement in setting the dirty cops up to take the fall. Alexandria didn’t just do her job, she had done it exceedingly well. For that, Delta would be eternally grateful.

  Before Delta could respond to Jan’s comment, the radio interrupted.

  “S-10-12, we have an S-100 at 137 South Pope Street. What’s your twenty?”

  Jan replied that they were close to the address given and that they’d take the call.

  An S-100 meant that a silent alarm had gone off, with the possibility of catching a burglary in progress. It also meant that a backup unit had also been dispatched. The call, while not entirely devoid of danger, usually meant that the units arrived after the damage had been done. Cops rarely walked into a burglary-in-progress and actually caught someone.

  Delta turned the interior lights on while Jan riffled through the personal address book she always carried with her. Glancing over at the tiny notebook, Delta shook her head. Jan was the only cop Delta ever worked with who carried around the names and type of stores on their beat. Each entry was listed alphabetically and cross-referenced by street and street number, creating a pretty comprehensive guide to the merchants they frequently dealt with. Jan used it as a means of better preparation whenever they rolled up to an address. She would flip through her book and announce the name and type of business before getting out of the car. Knowing her routine by heart, Delta slowed down and waited for Jan’s pronouncement.

  “It’s that little hunting and sporting goods store called Omega’s.”

  Delta winced. It wasn’t the safest place to catch a thief. “Oh, great. Just what we need: to face a perp who’s better armed than us.”

  Jan smiled. “Aren’t they all? Geez, just the other day, Hayward had to take out a thirteen-year-old who was carrying.”

  “I heard. Is the kid going to make it?”

  Jan nodded. “Until the next time, I suppose.”

  Delta knew the fears Jan carried with her, having children growing up in such a hostile and exceedingly violent society. Jan had been in tears when trying to explain to her children why that truck driver had been beaten up on television during the Rodney King riots when he hadn’t done anything. Her kids did not understand.

  It was times like those that Delta did not envy motherhood. Turning her

  attention to the call at hand, Delta grabbed both her baton and her flashlight.

  “If there’s someone in there, Del, let’s take him out early. I don’t like the idea of being in a gun shop with some whacko.”

  “Got it.”

  Pulling into an alley a half a block away from Omega’s, Delta and Jan hopped out of the car. When Delta came around to Jan’s side, Jan handed her the shotgun.

  “A gal’s best friend,” Delta whispered, turning her radio on low. As they

  approached the darkened building, Delta heard a clattering sound from around the corner. Kneeling down, Delta swung the shotgun around the damp brick edge and sighted a shadow running away from the back entrance of Omega’s.

  “Damn!” she cursed, handing the shotgun to Jan. “I’ll go.” And in an instant, Delta was off, her thirty-six inch stride propelling her toward the shadow bolting away from her.

  “Police!” Delta yelled, knowing that it made absolutely no difference to the retreating thief. The law prohibited cops from shooting at a fleeing felon. Only cops in movies could pull out their weapons and blast a hole in the back of some sleazy crook. Real life law enforcement was vastly different than what the public saw on television. She either had to catch him or forget it. As he scaled the six-foot alley wall leading to the main boulevard, Delta knew she would probably have to do the latter. Once in the thick of things, he would blend right in.

  And then, quite suddenly, he stopped when he reached the top of the wall, turned toward her, and threw a shiny, metallic object at Delta. Then he clambered over the top and out of sight.

  “Son of a bitch!” Delta muttered, barely catching a glimpse of metal before diving behind a trash bin.

  Pulling her revolver, Delta sped around the bin, aiming her .357 at the top of the wall, but he had already gone. She hadn’t even heard him land on the other side.

  “Gone. Damn it!” Reholstering her sidearm, Delta pulled her radio from its case and gave what description she could of her would-be assailant and the direction she thought he headed. Pulling her flashlight off her belt, Delta searched for the object the perp had thrown at her.

  As the light swept in front of her, the object glistened beneath the rays from the heavy six-cell flashlight. Raising the light to eye level, the object shone brightly against the dull, splintered side of the fence surrounding the trash cans. Mesmerized by the gleam, Delta stepped closer for a better look.

  “I’ll be damned,” she said, eyeing the six-pointed Chinese star stuck in the wood; a very sharp, very impressive-looking weapon used by martial arts experts in the Orient. Delta hadn’t seen one since her Academy days.

  Taking a handkerchief from her back pocket, Delta wrapped it around the star and tugged hard, pulling the star from its cutting grip on the aged wood and dropping it in an evidence bag.

  She then entered the back door of the shop. The lights were on and Jan was taking notes from a man with stocking feet and a bare chest. The man was kneeling down, stroking a dead Doberman, and shaking his head every now and then as he answered questions.

  Jan stopped taking notes long enough to fill Delta in on what she’d heard so far. “He lives a few blocks away and has an audible hook-up to the alarm. Apparently, he’d been robbed a couple of times prior to getting the alarm and the dog.”

  Delta nodded, feeling her heart bang heavily against her chest as the adrenaline coursed through her veins like she’d overdosed on caffeine. It had been awhile since someone on the street had attacked her, yet the feeling was always the same.

  “Anyway,” Jan continued, “When he got here, he found the back window open and the dog dead. He doesn’t think anything was stolen but won’t be sure until he does a final inventory.”

  Squatting down next to him, Delta touched the dog’s ear. “A pet?”

  The man shook his head. “Not really. Still, you spend ten, maybe twelve, hours a day with an animal, I guess you kind of start caring more than you know. I hope whatever killed him didn’t hurt him any. I’d hate to think he suffered.”

  Delta studied the man. A Marine tattoo on his right arm and a possible shrapnel cut across his left brow suggested to Delta he was a veteran of some war, from his apparent age, probably Vietnam.

  “Sure was a beautiful dog,” Delta remarked as she stood and leaned against a sign announcing a 50% clearance sale.

  “Yes, he was.” The man rose, pulling his sagging pants with him. “What kind of creep comes into a store, kills a dog and lea
ves without taking anything? I mean, all of my antique swords are still in the case, none of the more expensive knives are missing. I’ve got some valuable stuff in here, and it doesn’t look like he took a thing.”

  Delta and Jan exchanged glances. “Maybe he didn’t have time,” Jan offered.

  Turning to the owner, Delta showed him the Chinese star while looking at Jan out of the corner of her eye. “You sell these?”

  Looking at the star, the shopkeeper shook his head. “No way. They’re illegal, and I run a clean business.”

  Delta smiled. “I’m sure you do, Mr. . . ”

  “Ein. Matt Ein.”

  “Well, Mr. Ein, I’m sure you run a legit business, but can you tell me where I would be able to purchase one of these?”

  Bringing Delta’s hand closer to his face, he studied the star. “Kids usually purchase stars from martial arts and mercenary magazines.”

  Delta caught the hesitation in his voice. “But?”

  Matt Ein shook his head. “But this sure isn’t one of them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Officer, that there is a real ninja star, not one of those toys sold in those magazines. It’s an antique of sorts; you know, the ones the ancient ninjas used to have. You can tell by the carved dragon emblem in the middle.”

  Delta looked more closely at the other side of the star.

  “Del?” Jan glanced at the star. “Where’d you get that?”

  “He threw it at me,” Delta answered. “A real ninja star, eh?”

  Matt Ein nodded and pushed some stray hairs away from his face. “It sure is. Lucky for you the guy throwing it wasn’t a real ninja. Legend has it they were flawless.”

  Delta nodded. “A good thing he wasn’t.” Delta carefully wrapped the star fully in the handkerchief. “There seems to be a lot of antique weapons floating around the streets these days. Have you recently sold a dagger with gemstones on the handle?”

  Matt Ein shook his head. “I don’t sell antique daggers, but I do collect them. If you have a picture, I might be able to place it for you.”

  Delta nodded and watched as Jan wrote this information in her notepad. “Mr. Ein, are you sure nothing was taken from the store?”