“You know that Debbie’s a waitress in the Vargus Hotel, right? She works for tips.”
“Debbie Sanchez is no waitress.”
I wanted to slap that smile off his face.
“I understand your wife used to be a ‘cocktail waitress’.”
The blood ran to my face. “Your point?”
Tsaris seemed unwilling to push it any further. “I can’t prove it in court, but I have enough for your job. He stood and looked at Keelan. “I’m sure you’ve discussed his prognosis?”
Keelan nodded.
“Then we’re done here.”
I stood and left them behind. I wanted to get out of there before I somehow made it worse. I’m good at that.
I stepped outside, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. What now? Being a cop was all I knew. I didn’t want to do private investigations. There was no money in anything but corporate gigs for one thing, and I didn’t want to spend my life peeking into strangers’ bedrooms for another. I would starve before I served as some cop-wannabe-private-security-chump. No, it was hard to envision my life without a badge.
I strode through the busy squad room and was almost to the main lobby when I saw Dana Cooper. I could see by the way she carried herself that she didn’t bring good news.
“What’s up, Dana?”
She leaned in close to me, her face etched into a mask of fear. “They’re after you.”
I wasn’t in the mood to talk. “Too late: Tsaris and Keelan just did the one-two on me.”
I was almost past her when she grabbed my arm like she wanted to break it. “No, you fucking ass, The Lunatics.”
That got my attention. I stopped to look at her. “What?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Those two soldiers you rolled. Kenny ‘TT’ Billings and Ray ‘Cue Ball’ Tolley.” He was really was known as Cue Ball. Who’d have guessed? “They were elites. Fighters from Giovanni Rocamora’s crew.”
“That asshole, again.”
“Well, that asshole is likely to run The Lunatics someday. Having you walk in and out of The Revolution leaving two of his best soldiers writhing on the floor like they were a couple of whores you just bitch-slapped is a very nasty stain on his honor.” She leaned in closer. “It’s a stain that makes him look weak to his rivals. And, you know as well as I, there’s only one way to fix that kind of stain.”
I tried to look bored. “He doesn’t know the first thing about me.”
“But, he does, Frank,” she pulled a copy of my service record which had my pic, DOB, address, everything. “These are some of the files Special Crimes seized today. They moved forward with their op, this morning, in light of your,” she hesitated a moment, “incident. A Lunatic front man was trying to purchase this from a cop he thought had turned dirty. He asked for your info specifically by name, Frank, by your fucking name! He said Rocamora wants you brought to him alive.”
She stopped and looked around the room. “Do you know what this means?”
“It means someone’s gonna make a lot of money.”
“It means you could be dead by sunset.”
She was right. But, I had bigger problems right now. I broke my arm from her grip and pushed my way out of the building. I had to get home.
*******
“I said there’s no time for that, Suze. The Lunatics know about this place. They could be here any minute. It’s not safe.”
“I don’t see the danger,” she said. “You’re a cop, sure, but if they did something here that would bring everyone down on them.”
“You’re missing the point: I’ve humiliated them and no one in The Lower City cares about me!” I couldn’t resist. “To them I’m just a dirty cop getting a little street justice.”
She winced. “Shelly says I shouldn’t leave the house. She says it could set a bad precedent.”
I looked at Suzanne for several seconds. I didn’t recognize the name. That left only one real option for who Shelly might be. “Who. The. Fuck. Is. Shelly?”
“My lawyer.”
Her lawyer! “Your fucking lawyer?” I said. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since we were naked in a bed together!”
“Yeah,” she said. “And how’d that work out, huh? You run off to answer the call of some dirty piece-of-shit cop!”
“You lied to me! You were never giving this a chance!”
“I was! You weren’t trying! You expect one night to fix years of dysfunction? One date to fix years of abandonment and neglect?” Her laugh was bitter. “Now you want to pay attention! Now it matters to you! Well, honey, it’s too late!”
I’d never wanted to be violent with Suzanne before that moment. It wasn’t like I was out partying with strippers and booze. I was a cop, sworn to serve and protect. Worse, I’d been a cop when she met me. She knew. She fucking knew I was a cop when we dated and when she married me. Now, it was suddenly a deal breaker.
We stared at each other.
I tried to rein in the anger. It wasn’t going to help here. “I’m sorry, Suzanne. I don’t want to fight with you. I love you. I love you and Maddy, both.”
She laughed. There was a taunting quality to it that cut those reins I’d been using. “You really should see the department shrink, because I think you’re crazy. Didn’t we just have this conversation this morning?
That urge to strike her returned. I spun from the room and threw the door open. There was a blur of motion in front of me. It was a smaller frame than mine or Suzanne’s. She jumped back away from the door.
Maddy had once been thin and stick-like, but now she was developing curves that made a father nervous. Her beautiful brown hair was messier than usual. Her eyes were wide with fear and her lower lip trembled. The top of her head was higher than my chin. She would soon be taller than I was.
“Daddy?” There was uncertainty and sadness in her tiny voice.
I stood, staring at her wide-eyed, unable to move. I’d had no idea she was there and the fear and heartbreak on her face was like an arrow through my soul. “Maddy!”
Suzanne pushed past me and took Maddy into her arms. The two broke down into tears. I could hear Maddy saying things into her mother’s shoulder, but couldn’t make them out.
Suzanne turned her eyes towards me. “Ssshhh, baby. It’s ok,” she said. But her eyes were saying something very different to me.
There was a knock at the door.
My heart began to gallop.
The hatred Suzanne had been wearing evaporated into unrestrained terror.
We both knew: The Lunatics were here.
The knock came again. It was forceful and demanded to be answered. I could see the door from my spot in the hallway. I searched it for some sign that the person there was trying to force or open it. Nothing.
I looked back at Suzanne. Her eyes begged me to protect them. Had I been in a different frame of mind, I might have enjoyed the reversal. Instead, I reached for my gun-hip before realizing that Tsaris had collected it along with my badge as a condition of my suspension.
I remembered the knife in the kitchen and began to move that way.
The knock came again, this time accompanied by a female voice. “TCPD. Can you please come to the door?”
Relief escaped Suzanne’s lungs. She pushed by me and moved towards the door. I thought about the voice: female, claiming to be the police. I considered how enticing a ruse that could be.
Suzanne was already beyond my grasp and closing on the door. I tried to spring forward, to grab her before it was too late, but she was there, on top of the door. Her hand was on the handle, turning it.
“Wait!” I said.
But it was done. The door opened revealing a uniformed TCPD officer: a female, blonde hair and fair skin.
Now it was my turn to exhale in relief.
Suzanne, however, had a different
reaction. She turned and looked at me, the terrified pleading gone from her eyes. That vicious animosity in its place.
“Got a call about a fight. Everything ok, here?”
“Officer!” she said. “He’s trying to throw me out of my home!”
The cop looked at me. I didn’t know her, but even if I had, I didn’t think it’d matter. Still: “I work at the Three-three. My name and info was found being passed to Lunatic operatives in a sting. I’m sure you can corroborate this through channels and advise my soon-to-be ex-wife of the hazards of remaining here.”
Suspicion clouded her face, but she didn’t speak. She held out her hand.
She scanned the implant in my right wrist with a disk the size of a large coin. She did the same to Suzanne. The cop eyed me with suspicion and stepped out of earshot to verify my story in private.
When she came back, she said she could not verify the compromised report, but that if it were true, Suzanne would be in great risk staying here.
Suzanne glared at me, but seemed, at least, to listen to this stranger over her own husband. She went into the bedroom to pack.
“I trust this resolves our little disturbance here.”
I nodded.
The cop looked at me. “Don’t forget to return that implant, Mr. Parker.”
So, after almost two decades on the force, it was like that. I forced a smile.
She didn’t.
I wondered who she’d talked to, but it made no difference. Nothing I could say would change this stranger’s opinion. “Have a nice day.”
She didn’t reply and turned back to the hallway.
I closed the door behind her.
CHAPTER V
The house was quiet and lonely after the girls left. The urge to give in to the depression and the sadness was overwhelming, but I knew I was playing for more than just myself on this one. I had a lot to do and almost no idea how I was going to do it.
That’s when I heard scraping on my front door. The adrenalin surge returned and I snatched the knife from the counter. I gazed though the peephole, sighed, and opened the door.
April Natora stood in my doorway. She didn’t look like a slum lord but looks could be deceiving. Blue-black hair hung over her dark eyes. An expensive skirt suit displayed an athletic build. Her pink lips curled in a smile. It was polite but not warm.
“Mr. Parker,” she said. “I was just posting this on your door.”
It was a written notice demanding payment with late fees.
I closed my eyes. I’d spent this month’s rent trying to woo my wife in an Upper City hotel room. “Is there any way you could work with me on the late fees? I—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Parker, but we have been patient in the past.”
I didn’t know what ‘patient’ meant to her, but I was pretty sure she could use an education. Under different circumstances I might have taken the time to educate her. As it was, I had other problems. “Suzanne—might not—when do you need your money?”
“Close of business Friday.”
“Friday?” Fire bloomed in my face. “I can’t—!”
“Then you’ll either have to move out or reimburse our eviction filing fee.”
“But I—”
“Tell it to the judge, officer.” Her smile became downright frosty. “Have a nice day.”
She was gone before I could speak. I watched her walk away and tried to put that on the back burner, but having shelter was one of the most basic of needs. I frowned and closed the door behind me.
*******
The first thing I did was visit some lawyers. There weren’t many people on the planetoid I liked less. Being forced to go to them with my hat in hand was equal parts humiliation and frustration.
Most of the attorneys below The Street offered free consults. It was usually a half hour of the lawyer’s time to see if you would agree to pay him or her (women were rumored to be the most vicious) five hundred bills an hour for any more of it. It was legalized extortion: pay us what we want or watch your ex get the kids, the flat, and your salary for the rest of your life.
I didn’t really try to hide my resentment at the fees. They were all unfazed. One told me it was no different than the shakedowns he’d seen cops do to his clients over the years. It might have gotten ugly, but going to jail for hitting someone who was sure to sue me and take whatever Suzanne couldn’t was enough to keep my mind straight.
I walked around town for a bit and hit the Third Level. The Third Level was the train level. I loved to hang out at the stations and watch the trains. I really liked to watch the people. It helped me to think.
It seemed funny to me. I could hound Tycho City’s most dangerous criminals till they were exhausted. I could function in the midst of a gun or fist fight. I’d been beaten, cut, stabbed and, on one occasion, shot. I had brought hundreds—thousands to justice. I’d brought some small measure of comfort to scores of The Lower City’s inhabitants and even saved a few lives. But, I couldn’t keep the woman who’d promised to love me for the rest of her life from leaving and taking two of the only reasons I had to live with her. It was so funny I wanted to fucking cry.
I got up and started to walk. I had to try and stay ahead of those kinds of thoughts. They would only take me to dark or, rather, darker places. I was operating on a tight budget. I’d have to do something about that, but, for now, I’d have to work with what I had and I had to prioritize.
And, the number one rule of any jungle, concrete or otherwise, is to survive.
*******
A simple dangling bell announced my arrival to the proprietor of Harold’s Sporting Goods. It was a small storefront on The Floor, nothing fancy. It was cramped. The air inside was dusty and carried the musty scent of vinyl and plastic. Sports banners and a few uniforms hung from the ceiling and close-in walls.
There would have been football and golf stuff on a shop like this on Earth. They might even have an outdoor version of American rules football. But, here, on the Moon, street rules basketball and stickball were the most popular. The ‘arena’ version of American football or even roller hockey might make a living north of The Street, but down here, the pads were too expensive for bottom-dwelling families, so it was sports that could be played with nothing but a stick and a cork or a ball.
I moved through the narrow store towards the counter at the back. A man stood there. He was slight and grey. A tattered brown coat hung from his shoulders. His t-shirt was dingy and his black jeans faded. He was in need of a shave, but the bristles were a long way from being called a beard.
He was the owner, but his name wasn’t Harold.
“Howdy, Don.”
Don Mullins had always owned Harold’s. I never found out why he called it what he did, but what I did know was important to my cause. “I’m looking for some protection.”
Don’s eyes narrowed. “Detective Parker, surprised you have the nerve to show up here. You know what would happen to me if the Loonies caught me talking to you?”
I smiled and nodded. Word on the street moved somewhat faster than light. “I do. But, you’re not the type to let that bother you.”
His face broke into a grin. “I ain’t got no death wish. Besides, what makes you think I can help you?”
“Come on, Don. We have history.”
“Been clean ever since.”
Rick and I had investigated a prostitute who had shot and wounded her pimp, a derelict piece of shit named Rodney Williams. She dodged prosecution by cutting a deal to provide info about her employer. What she couldn’t dodge was the twenty centimeter blade Rodney contracted to cut her throat.
We traced the gun she used back to Don but, by then, she was dead. Rodney was off scot-free and the drugged-out hood that did his dirty work was scheduled to walk the plank in Pandrom prison. I sat on the report and gave Don a pass in exchange for favor
s later. I needed a favor.
“You know what I do for a living, right?” I reached over to a dirty uniform that hung on the wall. It was priced at seventeen-fifty. It was grubby and worn. He’d be damn lucky to get ten for it. “You expect me to believe that this is your trade?” I said, without taking my eyes from him. “You wouldn’t even be able to cover the Lunatic protection money with this shit.”
He diverted his eyes.
“This is the place where I could threaten to turn those old files to someone who would do something about them, but I don’t wanna do that. I try to reserve that kind of shit for assholes and dirt bags.”
It was a better approach than pretending to be his friend. We weren’t friends.
“I’m not asking for anything for free. You know I’ve got some problems and need some protection. That’s all.”
He studied me for several seconds. I let him take his time. You didn’t survive in The Lower City without having some street smarts. And, for him, this was a big decision.
“How much you looking to spend?” he said.
“Less than three.”
“Thousand?”
“Hundred.”
The look on his face said, Better luck next time. “That’s gonna be a tall order.”
“I know.”
He studied me, again. “I might have something.”
He opened his counter and let me in. We passed into the small room in the back. A hot plate sat atop a tiny fridge in the far corner to my left. There was a metal-framed ramshackle bed on the wall opposite. The door to a dingy bathroom sat to my right along with a large safe.
Don was hard at work on the safe. It opened with a metallic clack. An assortment of rifles stood in neat ranks across the lower two-thirds of the safe. Pistols and submachine gun hardware lay on the shelf at the top. Don stood on his tip-toes to reach into the back.
What he pulled out was big and ugly.
“This is all I can do,” he said. “Got this from a gunsmith who fancied himself the next Samuel Colt. Turns out he knew just enough to be dangerous. Blew himself up over a year ago testing his next great creation.”
Lunatic City Page 4