The Good Die Twice

by Lee Driver

  Dagger shrugged. “Like I care.”

  “You have to keep guys like him on your side, Dagger.” He pushed the cup away and scooted his stool away from the bar.

  Sara pulled her fist away from her face and clasped her hands in her lap. “Padre, do you have a way of finding out where people were at any given time?”

  Padre looked at Dagger, then Sara. He stood and turned sideways to face Sara, his body leaning against the bar. He had a smile of amusement, the kind that he usually reserved for school children who would ask him curiosity questions during a precinct tour.

  “Sure. If he was serving time somewhere, or the guest of a jail cell awaiting bail, maybe search through charge card receipts. It would give us some idea. Why do you ask?”

  Dagger eyed her curiously from the serving side of the bar, his feet apart, arms crossed. He watched her fingers intertwine, as though they battled each other for territorial rights. ‘Shall we stay here? Head for the mouth?’ Sara seemed to take control and they remained in her lap.

  “Just curious if Luke really was in Australia and exactly when Edie met him.”

  “AWK, AUSTRALIA, KANGAROO.” Einstein flapped his wings and danced on the perch.

  Padre cast a curious gaze toward Dagger. “Guess I could do a little more checking. In the meantime, old man Tyler needs to figure out what Rachel meant when she said ‘kangaroo’. Is it animal, mineral, or vegetable?”

  “He’s going to have to do a more thorough search of the house.” Dagger walked Padre to the door.

  “KANGAROO PAW, AWWWKK.”

  Sara jumped off the bar stool. “Okay, mister. It’s bedtime.” She clapped her hands and Einstein flew off the perch and into the aviary.

  “KANGAROO PAW, KANGAROO PAW.”

  “Kangaroos don’t have paws, Einstein.” Sara watched him fly onto one of the branches and peek at her between the fronds. She switched on the nightlight. Before turning away, she cast a quizzical gaze at the macaw. Sometimes things Einstein said didn’t make sense…until much later.

  After Padre left, Sara went upstairs to her room. Dagger knew she wouldn’t be going to bed. About four times a week he would hear her patio door slide open. He just wasn’t sure if she was going out for exercise or to keep in practice.

  Curiosity got the best of him. Dagger grabbed his binoculars and went upstairs. Her bedroom smelled of fresh flowers and subtle perfume. In the dark he could barely make out the rattan chair nestled in the corner and the fern hanging from the ceiling.

  He sat on the floor, elbows on the cushioned window seat, binoculars in hand. Focusing the binoculars, he spotted the gray hawk gliding in a slow circular pattern. The night-vision binoculars lit up the night and were strong enough for him to see the detailed wing panel and tail banding.

  Dagger sat mesmerized by the grace and power of the large bird. And then, as it swooped closer to the ground, it shifted into the gray wolf. Dagger’s mouth literally fell open. The wolf was unbelievably fast as it tore off for the open land. And then something he thought he would never see happened. The wolf shifted back to Sara as she ran nude toward the river, her long hair flowing behind her, her hips and legs firm and shapely. She twirled like a dancer giving him a full view of her firm breasts.

  “My god. What a body!”

  Almost as quickly she shifted back to the gray hawk and rose swiftly, its body outlined against the full moon. To have the speed and senses of the wolf and the hawk was something Dagger couldn’t fathom. Then what he realized made his face flush. Sara had the eyesight of the hawk. She could see at night and she could see distances he could only imagine. She could probably see him! He dropped the binoculars just as Einstein alighted on the bed.

  “WHAT A BODY. AWK”

  “Hey, where did you come from?” He chased Einstein down the stairs and into the aviary. “Sara is too good to you. She left your door open.” Dagger pulled the grated door shut and watched as Einstein settled in on his favorite branch.

  CHAPTER 38

  Skizzy pulled the bat close to him and crept from the back room. He wasn’t sure what woke him, if it was a noise or just the sense that something wasn’t right. His heart pounded behind his ribcage and his hands were beginning to slip off the bat. He gripped it tighter and entered the front of the store.

  If there were intruders, why didn’t the alarm go off? Did he check the locks on the door earlier? He should have checked them one more time, he thought. Silently he stood listening, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The blinds on the front windows were closed. The street light outside the store had burned out months ago and the city had yet to fix it.

  It was difficult to distinguish the shadows, some short, some tall. He thought he saw a shadow move so he gripped tighter on the bat. “Who’s there?” Skizzy yelled. “I’ve got a gun and the silent alarm went off. Police should be here any minute.” It was a lie. He didn’t have a loaded gun, knowing full well there was a risk of his being shot with his own weapon. And he didn’t have a silent alarm to the police or alarm company.

  He took another step into the room. Another shadow moved. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. He didn’t feel a breeze from a broken window or an opened door. And he would have heard glass breaking. But thieves are clever, a voice in his head said. Should’ve checked the door one more time last night, Skizzy thought.

  A shadow moved.

  “Hey!” Raising his bat, Skizzy felt a blow from behind.

  “I called you right away,” Simon told Dagger. Nodding to the two paramedics leaning against an ambulance, Simon added, “You know, Skizzy ain’t gonna let anybody take him to no doctor.”

  Dagger had pulled on his clothes and driven over as soon as Simon called at six in the morning. Simon had stopped for coffee at the bakery across from Skizzy’s Pawn Shop. That was when he noticed the door to the pawn shop ajar. Skizzy would never leave the door open. When Simon stepped inside, he found Skizzy bleeding and lying in a pile of broken glass.

  Dagger combed his hair back with his fingers and pulled up the collar of his black pullover. His temples pulsed as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

  The morning air was damp and wisps of steam floated above the street where cool air met the warm pavement. The sun was burning through the haze on the horizon as a passenger train rumbled along the tracks at the end of the street.

  “Hey, buddy,” a rotund paramedic with a doughy face called out. “You better get to your friend in there and talk him into letting us treat him.”

  Dagger turned to Simon and said, “Give Doc Akins a call and see if he can get over here quick. If he can,” he looked toward the paramedics, “send them on their way.”

  Once Dagger pushed the door open he saw Skizzy on the floor holding a large piece of glass.

  “Get away. Get out of here,” Skizzy yelled, lashing out with his makeshift weapon while streams of blood obstructed his eyesight.

  “It’s me, Skizzy. It’s Dagger.”

  “My god. What have they done to my place, Dagger?”

  Dagger knelt beside his friend and examined the gashes on his face and head. “Who did this to you?” He used the alcohol wipes and gauze pads the paramedics had given him. Skizzy’s skin was pale and his hands shook.

  “They rifled through every crevice in the store looking for it. Pulled all the jewelry out of the case, used the guns to break the showcases. But they didn’t get downstairs.”

  Simon stuck his head in. “Doc is on his way.”

  Skizzy grabbed the glass shard again. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s okay. It’s Simon. And Sara’s here, too,” Dagger said.

  Sara carried a cardboard tray of coffee and juice. “Skizzy, what happened?” She set the tray on the windowsill and pulled her tote bag off her shoulder.

  Dagger tried again, “What were the men looking for, Skizzy?”

  “No telling what they did, what they planted. Government men probably, planting bugs.”

  “Drink this, Skizzy.” Sara h
eld up a carton of orange juice. She guided the straw to his mouth.

  Simon announced, “Here comes Doc.”

  A lanky man with pointed features stepped into the shop. His silver-streaked hair and youthful face made it difficult to tell his age. But he dressed preppy and wore wire-framed glasses. Doc Akins taught veterinary sciences at the local college. He had turned from people to animals. But his former patients still had a way to reach him and he helped them whenever possible.

  Skizzy grabbed Dagger’s arm. “No doctor, no. You know what those doctors do. He’ll plant a computer chip in me.” Skizzy became more agitated the more he talked. His tee shirt was soaked with blood and the cuts on his arms had slivers of glass in them.

  Simon grabbed a broom and started to sweep the glass out of the way while Dagger told Skizzy about Doc Akins.

  “Doc had his license taken away for giving pot to cancer patients to relieve the effects of chemo. He’s a good guy, Skizzy. Just let him take a look at you, clean your wounds, stitch them up.”

  “No shots. There’s stuff in those shots. People get injected with viruses.”

  Dagger grabbed Skizzy by his bony shoulders. “Calm down.” He waited until he had Skizzy’s full attention. “Okay, no shots. But if he needs to, let him spray some of the cuts to numb them.”

  “Okay if I close the door?” Doc pushed the door closed and locked it. “I don’t want any of my cop fans sneaking a peek at my business.”

  Skizzy looked at Doc with renewed interest.

  Doc nodded to Dagger. “Let’s get him off the floor to some place more comfortable. We should get him out of these clothes so I can see where all the injuries are.”

  Skizzy’s body shuddered as he was helped from the floor. “They ripped them up. Tossed everything out of my drawers looking for something.”

  Dagger handed Sara some money. “Logan’s is open twenty-four hours. Go pick up some underwear, shirts, pants, tennis shoes. Pick up some food there, too. It looks like they dumped everything out of his refrigerator.”

  “Cut the labels out of the clothes,” Doc said.

  Dagger looked at him with surprise and shifted his gaze quickly to Skizzy, who furrowed his brow quizzically at Doc. Skizzy was even skeptical of those who seemed too good to be true.

  As if to assure the injured man, Doc added, “I’m monitored constantly, Skizzy. I can almost feel their eyes on me, always checking to see whom I’m meeting for lunch, what books I’m buying, what calls I’m making. I have my own methods now and I don’t blame you for not trusting me. I find it difficult to trust people, too. Especially those who think they understand or sympathize with me.”

  “Yeh, they try to think they’re your new found friend, yeh.” Skizzy’s body was racked with chills as he sat on the ripped couch. Cushions had been cut and the stuffing pulled out.

  “You’re going into shock, friend.” Doc pulled the gauze pads from the wounds and opened his gym bag.

  Dagger could hear Simon in the shop area sweeping up more of the glass and cleaning up the showcases. Dagger’s jaws ached from clenching them, and he tried to take deep breaths to ease his growing anger.

  While Doc cleaned the wounds, Dagger tried again to get Skizzy to tell him what had happened.

  “How many men?”

  “Two. You know how light I sleep. I heard something.” Skizzy took a sip of the orange juice. “No way they could have gotten in, not with the alarm and all those locks. I gotta get a new alarm. Maybe get rid of the windows. Never heard an alarm. Can’t afford a new one.” Skizzy peered out from under the washcloth.

  “We’ll get something. You wanted an alarm more high tech anyway, Skizzy. Now what about the men. Did you get a look at them?”

  “No, not good. Just an outline. One guy about my height and weight. The other guy flabby. Uglier than sin. Damn, I thought I was ugly.”

  He was getting his sense of humor back, Dagger thought. “What were they looking for, Skizzy?”

  “An earring. Hell, I got a showcase of jewelry. Take your pick, I says. But they didn’t like what I had.”

  Doc sprayed one gaping wound and threaded a surgical needle. “Need a few stitches here, Skizzy. This is going to pinch a bit but I’ll try to get it done as quickly as possible.”

  Dagger righted the garbage can, and using latex gloves from under the sink proceeded to clean up the mess on the floor. He tossed food and broken bottles from the refrigerator into the garbage. Skizzy was going to need new plates, glasses and cups. The more devastation Dagger saw in the cabinets, bathroom, living area, and the shop, the more Dagger’s anger grew. He began to toss broken glass into the garbage with such force, he was sounding like a one-man demolition team.

  Simon yelled, “Hey, what are you doing in there?”

  Dagger dragged the garbage can into the shop and set it next to the one Simon was filling.

  “Maybe Skizzy should just find another place. He’ll never trust this one to be safe.”

  Dagger shook his head. “He’d never go for that. He has too much equipment here, and you know how Skizzy is about strange places. He’ll be gutting the wallboards looking for listening devices.” Dagger flung chunks of broken wood into the garbage. He stared out toward the street. The ambulance was gone but one police car was still there. Skizzy wouldn’t file a report. Dagger had no idea what the cops were waiting around for.

  Dagger glanced at the surveillance camera anchored from the ceiling. The tape had been removed from the player behind the counter. The alarm hadn’t sounded. It worked intermittently and was definitely in need of replacement. Dagger’s fist clenched and unclenched along with his jaw.

  “I don’t like that look,” Simon said, resting the handle of the broom under his chin. “Nope, that is a black cloud look.”

  “I’m okay,” Dagger snapped.

  Simon went back to sweeping, the corners of his mouth turned down. “Like hell, you’re okay,” he snapped back.

  “Don’t worry.”

  Simon stopped his sweeping and glared at Dagger. “I’ll damn well worry if I want to, you stubborn ass.” The broom started moving again, dust clouds swirling, glass clinking. The air was tense and after a few minutes of silence, Simon said, “My sister still has some showcases from her days as a jewelry shop owner. They are just collecting dust in her basement.”

  Dagger looked at the shelves hanging from the walls. “I’ve got some bookcases and furniture from my old office I can give him.”

  Simon brushed a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. Dagger peered into the back room. Doc was using tweezers to remove glass from Skizzy’s arms. Skizzy’s face was clean though bruised and swollen and he sported more gauze pads and bandages than a price fighter.

  “Any idea who did this?” Simon asked.

  “Oh yeah.” Dagger’s muscles tensed as he ripped a damaged shelf from the wall and flung it on the floor. “I’ve got a damn good idea.”

  From a restaurant next to the bakery, Mince and Joey sat and watched the commotion at the pawn shop.

  “Did you see the girl?” Mince asked, fingers spreading the slats of the blinds.

  “Yeah. How the hell did she get out of that Mustang?” Joey checked the cuts on his hands. Skizzy had fought like a tiger and they had to use his own bat to smack him around. Mince with his bum shoulder was of little use.

  “I saw it go over the edge.”

  “Me, too.” Joey peered through the blinds as the police car pulled away. “Mince, we gotta keep this to ourselves. Luke finds out what we tried to do to the girl…”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  The blinds snapped shut.

  Dagger and Simon spent all morning at Skizzy’s. Simon borrowed a moving truck and transported his sister’s and Dagger’s furniture. Dagger made a sweep of the premises and everything in it and assured Skizzy he didn’t detect any monitoring devices of any type.

  Sara washed and folded the clothes she had purchased for Skizzy after cutting out all the labels. She didn’t und
erstand why Skizzy thought he could be tracked with labels, but she would have to save her questions until she and Dagger were alone.

  Skizzy had been adamant about Sara’s not purchasing food at the health food store. She thought it would be safe. Skizzy said the government preys upon the weakness of the people who latch onto the latest fads, gets them comfortable while the government taints the food or codes the labels. So she had stopped at home to pick up canned goods and meat from the freezer. She also had purchased storage containers and emptied condiments, coffee, sugar, flour, and other staples into the containers so the bar-coded bottles would not be kept in his house.

  Sara offered to stay with Skizzy while he napped. She spent the time putting the undamaged merchandise into the display cases and shelves. Then she called Worm and made arrangements to meet him for dinner.

  CHAPTER 39

  “I’ve searched the storage room in the basement, Sir.” Lily stood in her black and white uniform with its pointed collar and lace-trimmed pockets. Of all the employees, she had been the closest to Rachel. She had been the one Rachel had confided in whenever she needed motherly advice. And Lily loved her like a daughter.

  “Nothing? No stuffed animals resembling a kangaroo? Pottery, boxes, or containers?”

  Lily shook her head to each question, wisps of short, gray hair curling around a wise and trusting face. Her heart-shaped mouth was pursed, tears welling up in her tired eyes at the mere mention of Rachel’s name. “I don’t remember her coming home with anything other than clothes and accessories.”

  Robert grabbed her hands and held them. “I’m sorry, Lily. I know you tried your best. Now I would like you to expand your search to all the upstairs rooms.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he walked her to the door. He wasn’t sure whom he could trust anymore. How involved was Eric? Did Nick know anything? And how could he not see Edie for the type of woman she was? How could he sit across from her at breakfast, live under the same roof, and not want to shake her til she gave him the answers he needed?