Detective Trigger and the Legend's Farewell: Book Four

by M. A. Owens

  Then another realization hit me, hard. There was no fleet of security guards here. One older gray cat smiled and nodded at us from the door in his security uniform. But that was all. No demands to ask who we were, or who we needed to see. In fact, aside from the receptionist standing at the wide desk at the very center, no one had even looked up. Several dogs and cats were taking breaks and reviewing notes in the sun-filled lobby, and none paid us any mind, despite how out-of-place we had to look. With all the stories they’d printed about me, in particular, I half expected them to throw a microphone in my face and start asking questions the moment I set foot inside.

  Suddenly, I realized. This wasn’t modesty or humility. This was a statement of boldness in its rawest form. If you are an enemy of this paper, you’re no threat. They don’t fear your attacks or your critiques of their facility. They’re untouchable, and this is how they remind everyone that they are fearless. They wear no armor and dare anyone to attack. Of course, no one does. Not the police. Not the politicians. Not the criminal overlords. Everyone needs the paper to be someone in this city, and they knew it. To think Mr. B controlled it all. That cat really knew what he was doing.

  An elbow jab from Kerdy jarred me from my observations.

  “This isn’t a museum, Trigger. Are you almost finished mentally recording every inch of the place?”

  “You could tell, huh? Yeah, I suppose I’m finished. This is an interesting place, is all. A lot different from what I expected.”

  Kerdy ignored my comment, walking to the front desk.

  “We’re here to see Max.”

  The receptionist, a young black and white feline dame with round glasses, tilted her head with a reserved smile.

  “That slacker is where he always is. Last office in the rookie section of the first floor. Take the stairs to my left, and go all the way to the right, then take a left. His office is all the way in the back. I’ll page him to let him know you’re coming.”

  Slacker in the rookie section? You didn’t need to be an experienced detective to know that something wasn’t right. I could think of a couple of possibilities, but it was always better to learn things by seeing them for yourself if that was an option, and I was seconds from meeting him.

  We went up the stairs and it only just now occurred to me that the place didn’t even have elevators. Honest-to-goodness stairs, and no other way to go up a floor. There was no such thing as a working elevator in Black District, this was another first for my experience in the Adria District.

  At the end of the hall, Kerdy knocked on the open door, as a young Boxer sat in a torn leather chair at an old desk, reading over a stack of documents.

  He looked up, and the moment I’d been waiting for was a huge letdown. Not only did he not seem upset to see Kerdy or myself, he didn’t even seem surprised.

  “Kerdy, Trigger, it’s so good of you to stop by. Please, have a seat,” he said in a cheerful voice, pointing to the two simple chairs in front of him.

  “You… want me to close the door?” I asked, still off balance from his complete lack of irritation.

  “Because someone will hear what we’re saying? Detective, you can’t be serious.”

  “I can’t be?” I asked, tilting my head.

  He sighed and smiled, shaking his head, pointing again to the seats in front of him. I sat, as did Kerdy, but I was still curious what he thought I couldn’t be serious about.

  “Good to meet you, Max. I’m—”

  He interrupted.

  “Oh, there’s no need for that. You obviously know who I am, and I know everything there is to know about both of you. At least, what information exists in this city. Kerdy’s a rare cat, of course, being from the outside. I love the mystery, so naturally I’m never disappointed when I see her, despite the fact she always puts me in impossibly difficult situations. By the way, has she told you why I owe her?”

  “No, she hasn’t. You’re going to tell me, aren’t you?” I said, always happy to hear someone’s life story I never asked to hear…

  “When I was just a young pup — I know, you’re thinking I’m still pretty young, but we’re talking bright eyed and bushy tailed — Well, my tail isn’t bushy, but you get the point.”

  How many times can he start and restart this story? It’s a shame Rick’s never met this dog in person. They’d be best pals.

  He took a breath and continued.

  “A couple of mobsters grabbed me, after I stole some cash, and tossed me into the Arc River. I was so careful, too. I was sure no one saw me take it. It was an excellent scheme, but that’s not what’s important. I’ll get to what’s important in a minute. Anyway, so they threw me into the river, and would you believe it? There was someone down there! Pulled me to safety and brought me back up to the street after they left. You know what I learned after that?”

  “To be honest, all I learned is that your brain moves twice as fast as your mouth,” I said.

  He laughed, and I knew he would, somehow.

  “Five times as fast, more like it. But no, I found out later that the only reason they knew I stole the money is because one waitress saw me steal it, and she had no idea who any of us were. She just wanted to do the right thing! Context is important, my friend, but information? Information is King. And the one who controls information? Well, let’s just say that I found out years later one of those cats had been pocketing some money of their own, taking a little off the top of the boss’s operation. The other one felt guilty about it and dreamed of getting out of violent crime. Guess where they both are now.”

  “At the bottom of Arc River,” I said. These criminals were all too predictable.

  “Wrong!” he said, slapping his desk, grinning from ear to ear. “They both work here now. Two of my best employees. They both knew a lot of information about their previous boss, and even a bit going further up the ladder. I even learned a few things about Mr. B from them. See, Trigger. Not only can knowing the wrong things get you killed…”

  He leaned in for dramatic effect.

  “Knowing the right things can save your life.”

  11

  I looked to Kerdy, who was as unmoving as always, then back to him.

  “That kind of sounded like a threat to me, Max,” I said.

  “Not a threat. Just sharing some hard-earned personal wisdom. But I’m just a young dog when it comes right down to it. Ignore me. So, what brought the two of you here today? I know that neither of you are fans of small talk, though you should probably reconsider. You’d be surprised how much you can pull out of someone through small talk.”

  Is that what he’d been doing this whole time? Hoping to discern a few nuggets of information from the two of us. Come to think of it, it’s not much different from what I do when I question someone. I get an idea about their relationship with the person they’re with, how they’re feeling, whether they’re nervous, in a rush, and so on. I had a feeling Max was way better at that than I was.

  “We’d like to know who Saint’s backer is,” Kerdy said.

  He grinned. “What do you care? I thought you weren’t allowed to meddle in our affairs here in the city.”

  She shifted in her chair, already annoyed.

  “I’m after someone connected to him, but that’s my business.”

  “Saul, right? Saint’s new hitman. You know, Saint differs from Mr. B in that regard. Mr. B’s body count was greatly exaggerated, by him, to spread fear. Smart. So much smarter than Saint. He believed that there was almost always a better use for someone than killing them. Only if you were a genuine threat, did he order you dead.”

  “Wow, I’m flattered,” I said, as sarcastically as I could manage.

  “That’s right, he did order for you to be killed. He thought highly of you, detective. He expressed great pain over the choice.”

  “Did he now? I feel so bad for him. Is he going to be okay?” I asked.

  Max laughed. “Detective, you have such a… well, I’m not sure if I should even call
that a sense of humor. Bitter cynicism masked by humor, let’s say.”

  “Thanks for the psychoanalysis, doc. I’m flattered, really. A big shot cat ordered me dead. I’ll mark that off my list of things I always wanted to experience in life.”

  He raised his brow. “Enough room for two check marks next to that item on the list, Trigger? Another big shot cat has put a hit out on you recently. Both of you, actually.”

  Kerdy and I exchanged glances. She was paying attention now. We were on the same wavelength. We were vulnerable in this office. For all we knew, the closed offices we passed coming here were full of goons ready to leap out and grab us when we try to leave.

  “You’re thinking you’ve walked into some kind of trap. That I’ll collect on some sort of bounty and gain favor with Saint. And what, ruin the facade of this newspaper by doing it here? I have dealings with Saint, I’ll not try to deny that, but I don’t like the cat that much. Besides, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a dog. Part of his grand plan is to make me a slave of sorts. Of course, that wouldn’t work against me.”

  “Why not?” Kerdy asked.

  “Because I don’t officially own this paper. I’m just the underperforming rookie no one really understands why they keep around. Every big place has a few of those. The cat on the top floor? He’s one of those that threw me in the river as a pup. His name is on the business, and he’ll deal with the consequences if anything happens to this place, or to me. Some may be obvious. Others… let’s just say they’re too terrible and cruel to mention in the presence of a sweet soul like yourself, Kerdy.”

  Kerdy, unsurprisingly, didn’t find the joke funny.

  “So, will you help us?” I asked.

  “For free? I’ve already given you far too much for free, wouldn’t you say? No, I need something big if I’m going to reveal Saint’s backer. Suffice to say, bigger than either of you could possibly reveal. I will simply wish the two of you luck, because you are going to need it, and I suggest you be on your way. Someone could have spotted and recognized you on your way here, and I very much don’t want bloodshed in my building.”

  “I can arrange that whether or not anyone saw us,” Kerdy said, her eyes meeting his, cold as ice.

  “Oh ho ho, a threat? Against me? That’s not wise, Kerdy. And here I thought you and I had an understanding. I almost considered you a friend,” he said, feigning a pouting lip. Or maybe he wasn’t feigning it. I still couldn’t get a good read on this dog, but I had a feeling we were playing right into his game. The sinking feeling in my gut, which I learned never to ignore, was making itself known.

  “I must detain Saul. He’s meddling with powers that make him a god here. The weapon he’s stolen and brought with him, combined with his training as a soldier, make him far too dangerous to run loose.”

  Max shook his head, tapping his paw gently on his desk. “Regrettable. It sounds like the two of you want a two-for-one. That’s going to cost you extra, I’m afraid.”

  Kerdy stood up, taking a step forward and leaning on the edge of his desk. “Or I could extract it from your hide, the old-fashioned way. I know a thing or two about pain. Would you like me to share that information with you in exchange for what we want to know?”

  He stared at her, saying nothing, but his confidence had gone down a notch.

  “Do it, and you’ll fail for sure. Saul will have accomplished what he set out to do long before you and the ace detective here can track him down. Can you find him on your own? Perhaps you can. Trigger here has an impressive track record, but even he needs time. It will be far too late. Maybe it already is.”

  Kerdy reached over the desk and pulled him up by his shirt collar. “Then I will do it for my amusement, then. If you won’t help anyway, I suppose it won’t make a difference.”

  He smiled and began laughing, his confidence returning.

  “Please don’t wrinkle my shirt, Kerdy. You are bound by your code. Killing someone like me would change the city too much. You would have meddled in the city’s natural order, and you’ll be no different from Saul. You and I both know you are far too honorable to even consider it. Now, please, let go of my shirt and let’s move along to the negotiation.”

  For a moment, I thought maybe she wasn’t bluffing. The clenched jaw, the twitching eye, the flexed muscles in her arms. Max was playing with fire, but playing with fire was Max’s specialty. After a moment of time nearly stopping, she slowly released him. He dusted off his shirt and sat back in his chair.

  “There, now we can all be friends again. No hard feelings, of course. I understand your frustration. For both of you. He’s targeting your friends, Trigger. I know that as well. I even know who he’s going after next.”

  Now I was the one who wanted to get violent, but for once in my life I kept my composure. This dog was out of my league playing that kind of game. I had no choice but to play his game by his rules. Seems he didn’t become the information broker by accident. Now that I was getting an actual read on him, that knot in my gut was making perfect sense. This dog was to be feared. Not just by Kerdy and I, but by Saint too. By everyone.

  “His backer. We need to know who it is. It’s the only way to stop him,” I said.

  He shook his head, offering me a pitying smile. “Oh, Trigger. I fear it’s already too late for that, but yes, you’re right in a way. It would be the biggest blow you could deal to him. It would slow him down, at the very least. Maybe there’s a chance he could even be stopped, if others play their cards right as well.” He leaned back into his chair, sighing loudly. “But it’s not my place to predict outcomes. I deal only in information. You can’t possibly have information on the same level as that, I’m afraid. If Saint finds out I gave you the information in exchange for something equal, it’s just business. If I give you the information for free, that’s taking sides. Taking sides is bad for my business. It’s worse for my health.” He pointed to the door. “All the same, I wish you luck. I will root for you, and that’s the truth.”

  I hesitated, but there was no way out of this. I had no choice. Forgive me, my friend.

  “What if I could give you the identity of the city’s most infamous legend, the master thief Rico?”

  Max burst out laughing, and for a moment I wondered if he would choke or pass out from the lack of air. He laid his head down on his desk and slapped it a few times. “Oh, my. Indeed? The master thief, Rico. Get lost. Do you know how many times I’ve tried to find out that very secret? The things I’ve offered? The things Mr. B has offered me? And you expect me to believe that you, out of everyone in the entire city, are the sole owner of this knowledge? Please… But good laugh. I haven’t laughed that hard in years. You must forgive my insult to your humor earlier. Clearly you aren’t lacking. Now, if you don’t mind…” He pointed to the door, again.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small box Rick had given me, placing it on the desk in front of him.

  He grinned and stared at it for a moment before picking it up. “As you wish, Trigger. I’ll play along.” He slowly slid open the lid of the box, and his grin faded as he opened it. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. He tried again, and still couldn’t. He sat there for several minutes staring at the contents of the box before pulling it out and holding it up for Kerdy and I to see. It was a fairly cheap looking pen, but otherwise didn’t seem special to me. “Did you know what was in this box, Trigger?”

  “I didn’t, but obviously you do. Still want us to leave? Kerdy and I are in a bit of a hurry. We’ll get out of your hair.”

  He shook his head. “No, you’re not going anywhere. This is a very special pen. Of all the pens in the city, there isn’t another like it. Without the meaning behind it, it’s nearly worthless. If you showed this to almost anyone else in the city, they wouldn’t offer you a penny for it. Would you like to hear its story?”

  I sighed, trying my best to look disinterested, but it was pointless. I was dying to know the story behind the pen, and I�
�m sure everything on my face gave it away. Even Kerdy was clearly curious, so there was no point in playing it any way but straight. We had our foot in the door with Max, and this pen was the reason for it. Knowing the reason would only benefit us in the negotiation, and even though he knew that he was all too eager to tell us anyway. He was genuinely excited.

  “We’re all ears,” I said.

  He held the pen up, to show us the name etched into the wood. Rex.

  “So, Rico stole this pen from someone named Rex?” I asked. That didn’t make any sense.

  Max shook his head. “Not quite. This pen was one of the most prized possessions of the one and only Mr. B.”

  12

  I should’ve known. That was the name of the game for Rico’s dozens of harrowing heists. Everything from museum robberies in broad daylight, to private jewelry shows bagging rocks worth millions, to… sentimental pens, I guess.

  “Maybe you don’t know this, Trigger, but Mr. B is a few years your senior, and unlike you he actually grew up on the mean streets of the Black District. You knew it when it was bad, but he knew it when it was worse. His father worked at the old recycling plant that used to be there. You know the one, right?” Max asked.

  I nodded. “There’s only one to know, but it’s been closed for a while now. Place was a death trap, I’ve been told. Dozens of workplace deaths a month and no one cared. I’m surprised they shut it down when there was a dime to be made. Not surprised a cat like Mr. B’s family had their paws in a place like that.”

  Max shook his head. “He was a nobody. His dad, I mean. Died in an accident and they tossed him in the incinerator just like garbage, like everyone else who died there. Mr. B bought the place with cash and shut it down many years later. There are a lot of stories to be told there, and I’m one of the few in this city who can tell it. But I’ll spare you the rest of the details… except one.