Necropolis PD

by Nathan Sumsion

  I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She can’t change who she is, she hasn’t done anything wrong, and I’m not going to cause her pain because of my hang-ups. Even if up until a few months ago, necrophilia was a perfectly legitimate hang-up by any definition.

  I force a smile onto my face and urge it to look reassuring. “Of course not, Jessica. You took me by surprise, and I was worried about Armstrong seeing me.” I squeeze her hand.

  A few seconds pass uncomfortably, but I must have been convincing because she smiles at me, and I can almost visibly see the tension release from her shoulders.

  “C’mon,” I say, standing up and pulling her up to start walking with me. Even though we don’t have the pretense of needing to act to try and look inconspicuous, she continues to hold my hand. “Let’s go. I need to go back to the precinct and speak to my captain.”

  Chapter 23

  Back at my apartment, I hand Jessica her supplies. “Thank you so much. You’ve been a tremendous help.”

  “Of course, Jake,” she smiles. Her hands linger on mine as she takes the supplies from me. “I’m happy to do what I can.”

  Hmm. She makes no move to leave, so I have to try and usher her out. “I have to get cleaned up. And, um, get to the office.”

  Jessica leans in close and drags one finger up my arm. “You don’t have to go in yet, do you?”

  My smile is a little forced. I back over to the door and open it up. “Sorry, duty calls. I really must go.”

  She pouts, but mercifully, she walks out into the hallway. “See me again soon, Jake. I want to hear what you find out.”

  I nod, mumble a goodbye, and close the door. I don’t think I’ve ever breathed as big a sigh of relief as I do right now. I hurry and strip down, heading to the shower, and work on washing the makeup off my face.

  Once I’ve dressed again, I think, Ms. Greystone, can you come visit me, please?

  It doesn’t take me long to bring Greystone up to speed on what I have been doing. She is not happy I involved Jessica, but grudgingly admits it may have been useful. But she is really not happy about how I followed Detective Armstrong around without her help. She’s floating laps around my small living room, her version of pacing.

  “How has he managed to keep this a secret?” she asks out loud. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t expect me to know the answer, so I don’t bother with a reply. “Even if he doesn’t have a liaison bonded to him, it’s staggering he has been able to do this without anyone discovering it.”

  The gloom outside is gradually brightening, indicating somewhere above the perpetual cloud cover outside the sun is rising. People are shuffling along on the sidewalks below, going to and from destinations in their eternal restless existence. Talk about The City That Never Sleeps. I look longingly at the crappy little cot, wishing I could spare just an hour or two. While most everyone else here doesn’t have to worry about it, I need sleep, but this isn’t going to wait.

  “We’re going to have to talk to someone about this, aren’t we?” I ask, morose. I can’t see any way around it.

  Greystone nods in sympathy. “I’m afraid so.”

  Who am I going to trust with my life? “We’re going to have to assume that Captain Radu is not the guilty party.”

  Ms. Greystone sighs in relief. “I can’t believe the captain would commit acts of murder then turn around and assign his best squad to investigate them.”

  I can’t find a hole in her logic. Unfortunately. On the bright side, if he’s not the killer, then he may not kill me for discovering a mole on the team. All I have to do is tell the captain that a member of his squad is on the take. I’m sure he won’t take it out on me at all.

  “Yeah. Great. If we’re wrong, what’s the worst that can happen to me? I’ll just become like everyone else here.”

  Greystone floats alongside me as we enter the precinct. I’m used to getting a lot of stares everywhere I go, but today, they seem exceptionally suspicious. That’s got to be in my head. Right? Conversations aren’t stopping more often than usual as I go past. Looks of hostility and hunger are no more common than before. I keep telling myself that as we go up the crowded stairway to the second floor.

  One of the ghosts that floats past me in a hallway looks familiar to me. I can’t quite place him until he is nearly beside me.

  “Officer Jenkins?” I ask. Yes, I’m right. He looks at me, not at all happy. Not exactly hostile, but not pleased I’ve called attention to him. The last time I’d seen him, he had an actual body. A rotting, decaying body, sure, but one made out of real flesh. Now he is transparent and slightly green. Unlike most of the other ghosts I’ve seen, his body looks like it is a rotting corpse instead of a normal human. It’s odd, to be sure. He has a full body, unlike Greystone who fades out below the knees. He’s still wearing his police uniform, still has his badge on his chest. I can even see stains on his translucent shirt. With the exception of being able to see through him, he looks just like he did when we went out into the Nursery.

  “What do you want?” he demands, defensive.

  I hold up my hands, placating. “Nothing, just . . . How are you doing?”

  “You telling a joke?” he asks, scowling at me even more fiercely. Leave it to me to make someone mad by trying to be friendly. “Is this funny to you?”

  I look to Ms. Greystone for support, but she merely shrugs. “Of course not! I was genuinely interested. Never mind then.”

  Muttering, he stalks off. It’s strange that I don’t hear the stomping of his feet. I think it is disorienting for him as well. I see him reach his hand out to slam a door open right before his hand passes through the doorknob.

  I make my way through the main squad room and walk past my desk. The door of Captain Radu’s office looms closer, ominously closer. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Marsh notice me as I go by. He stares at me curiously. I try to ignore him.

  Bracing myself, I knock on the captain’s door. It’s too dark for me to see if he’s in his office, but I can feel him in there. Not in the same way I can sense Greystone. With her, I just know where she is, like I know my hand is sweating and clenched nervously in my pocket. With the captain, it’s more of a sense of dread, a lump in my stomach, a flight-response screaming at my body to run away as fast as I can.

  “Enter,” the gravelly voice says from behind the door. No avoiding it now. I open the door and walk in. Ms. Greystone doesn’t look any more eager than I to go in.

  The captain is seated behind his enormous desk. He is alone in the room. The shadows seem darker in here than anywhere else. I smell something metallic, foul. Some kind of blood, probably. An oil lamp on his desk and two more in the corners illuminate the room. One elbow is propped on the desktop; his chin is resting in his hand, the index finger extended along the side of his temple. His bald head doesn’t move, but his red eyes track our movements as we approach.

  “Detective Green. Ms. Greystone. To what do I owe this pleasure?” he greets. He doesn’t look at all pleased.

  My mouth is dry. I’m taking too long to answer, and Greystone isn’t in any hurry to jump out there.

  “Captain,” I nod. I try to gather some words together. “I’ve found . . . we’ve found something.”

  His eyebrow slowly arching is his only reply.

  “It started when we noticed some files missing. From the file room. They were all the files Detective Olsen had gathered from his interactions with Davenport.”

  The captain slowly sits up straighter, his scowl getting fiercer. “What?”

  Greystone finally speaks. “It’s true, Captain. We’re missing files. We found evidence that they had been removed.”

  “There’s no telling how long the files have been gone, but it looks like those files were specifically targeted. No other files were touched. We came to the only conclusion possible,” I say.

  The captain ans
wers for me. “Someone on the team is involved.” The shadows are gathering behind him, getting angry. The shadows, I mean. They are getting angry, not just the captain. I try and ignore them, but they are too unsettling.

  “Exactly,” I nod, struggling to keep my gaze on him. “But where do we start? We can’t just accuse someone of this. So . . . well, we decided to . . . kind of take a look at what some of the squad were doing.”

  The corner of Radu’s mouth twitches into a grin, though none of the humor travels to his eyes. I decide I like the scowl better. “You started spying on your fellows.”

  Greystone says, “Yes,” at the same time I say, “No, not really.” We look at each other, and I grimace.

  Radu asks, “Did you find out who it is?”

  “Not exactly,” I confess, and Radu slouches back down in his chair. “We decided to start with one of the members of the squad, so we started with Armstrong.”

  “Armstrong? Pourquoi? Why start with him?”

  “We picked someone at random.” I look at Greystone. I’m feeling less sure about this now than I did this morning.

  “And?” Radu demands.

  “I haven’t found anything linking him to this case, but we did discover something that we felt needed to be brought to your attention.”

  Here we go. I describe all of the actions we’d seen Armstrong engaged in over the past day. I leave out Jessica’s involvement in the affair, and Greystone doesn’t correct me on it. I’m not sure how Radu will react to me bringing her into all this. I talk about Armstrong’s meeting with Antonio and others in the bar, then meeting with the old man in the park.

  Radu’s scowl gets fiercer, and his eyes start blazing as I recount all the details I can remember. He sits silently for a minute after I’m finished. I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

  Finally, he shifts his gaze to my companion. “Ms. Greystone, get Detective Armstrong in here. Now.”

  Shit. I start looking around for escape routes. I wonder if I can jump through the window out into the courtyard below or if I’ll just bounce off the glass.

  “Yes sir,” she mumbles and hurries out. Captain Radu stares at me for the next couple of minutes. It’s the longest two minutes I’ve ever lived. He sits as motionless as if he were carved in stone. It’s unnerving.

  Greystone mercifully returns through the door a few seconds before a knock sounds and Armstrong enters.

  “You wanted to see me, Captain?” he says, giving me a curious look.

  “Come in. Close the door. Sit down.”

  Sure, he gets offered a seat. I’ve had to stand this whole time.

  “Detective Green here has just told me some interesting things,” Radu says, the words slither out of his mouth.

  “OK,” Armstrong replies, more curious than alarmed. “I’m all ears.”

  Radu leans forward, fixing Armstrong with his stare. “It seems Detective Green saw you meeting with Antonio Cusmano. Not only that, he was close enough to hear you negotiating smuggling items into the city.”

  Armstrong sits up in alarm. “What?”

  “And then,” Radu continues, more loudly, enunciating his words more clearly. “He saw you meet with Frederick Stone in the park.”

  Armstrong is looking at me uncomprehendingly while I’ve got the same look on my face looking at the captain.

  “How did you know all these names?” I ask. I sure as hell don’t know any of them.

  Radu ignores me. “You assured me, Detective Armstrong, when you began these negotiations, that there was no way you would be discovered. That no one would be able to uncover your actions. This assurance was the only reason you were allowed to go forward with this plan.”

  “Wait, what?” I’m totally confused now. I don’t wait for an invitation. I sit down in one of the chairs opposite the captain’s desk.

  “But that’s not possible,” Armstrong says, sagging back in his chair. “I swear, Captain. I used all the proper glamours and veils. I’ve been careful. No one could have followed me or known what I was doing.”

  “And yet here we are, Detective.”

  “Wait, you knew about this?” I ask. Each of us in the room seems to be baffled about completely different things. Armstrong is confused how he was followed, and I’m confused that the captain is in on the situation. Greystone is probably confused about how I’ve gotten so far in my life being this stupid.

  Armstrong is looking at me with frustration and anger. Radu is staring at Armstrong with a similar look.

  “How the hell did you see me?” he asked. “How did you even get close enough to hear me? The veils I used are supposed to muffle sound to within a few paces.”

  I shrug uncomfortably.

  Radu speaks to me while still glaring at Armstrong. “A few years ago, Armstrong approached me with a unique suggestion to feed information to some of our local crime figures. Make himself seem disenfranchised. We let a few petty crimes slide in order to use the information to make bigger collars down the line. It’s worked well for a while.

  “But now . . .”

  Armstrong spins back to the captain. “You’re not shutting it down?”

  Radu’s fixed stare reveals nothing. “We can’t allow this to become common knowledge, Detective. Surely you can understand that?”

  “But—”

  “I’ll think about it,” Radu cuts him off, then waves him away. “Go. Return to your duties. I’ll consider allowing this to remain.”

  Detective Armstrong stands, glares murder at me, then storms out of the office.

  “This doesn’t clear him of suspicion regarding the missing files,” the captain states, analyzing me again. I feel like a clever mouse cornered in front of a hungry cat. “But I don’t want you distracted by thinking Detective Armstrong is dirty either.”

  I nod, sighing. “Sure, great. But I can’t apologize to him, not without everyone asking what’s going on. I don’t want to blow his cover if he’s keeping it a secret. And I don’t want to jeopardize his underworld contacts.” I want to make a joke about underworld contacts in a city of the dead, but I wisely decide to save that for a later time.

  Radu steeples his fingers in front of him. He is concentrating. “Armstrong is unlikely to let his guard down, now. I doubt you’ll be able to spy on his activities for some time.”

  “True,” I agree glumly. I look over at Greystone. She shrugs. No help there.

  “I think you are right in that we have someone on the team working against us. This would explain many things. You can’t follow Armstrong anymore. You will need to investigate one of the others. Who will you look into next?”

  I pause in surprise. “You want me to continue?”

  Radu nods. “I continue to believe you may be uniquely suited to this. In a short time, you discovered a secret that a room full of experienced detectives had not noticed.”

  He doesn’t answer my quizzical stare.

  “Well,” I start, thinking it over. “If I have to pick a likely suspect, I guess I’m going to pick the one I most want it to be.”

  I look at Greystone.

  “Detective Finnegan,” we say together.

  Instead of heading into the office with the other detectives, I turn the other way and walk down a hallway. I open the first unmarked door I find. A supply closet. Perfect.

  Ms. Greystone, could you come speak with me, please? I could talk to her in my mind, but I still feel more comfortable talking to someone face-to-face.

  “Of course.”

  I don’t need to tell her where to find me; she floats through the wall, illuminating the small space we’re standing in.

  “Before we start trying to spy on someone else, what can you tell me about Finnegan?” I ask her. “Was there any interaction Detective Olsen had with him that might be of interest?”

  She hesi
tates. “Detective Olsen did not enjoy working with Detective Finnegan. He was clearly suspicious of Detective Finnegan, but he never shared the nature of those suspicions with me. I only know he reluctantly accompanied Detective Finnegan on a case because he was ordered to do so.”

  “Please tell me,” I ask, and it says something about how distracted I am that I barely notice how closely we’re crammed together in this space as I listen to her begin to speak.

  Detectives Olsen and Finnegan

  “There had been reports of an illicit substance being distributed in the Underneath. The Underneath is an area of Meridian where the detectives do not like to go. It is a warren of rooms, tunnels, and caves that meander throughout the area below the city. We would block it off altogether if we could, but the network of passages is so extensive it is a hopeless endeavor.

  “The substance in question was a euphoric comprised partly of the blood of mortals that let one experience their recent memories. Where they were getting their supply of mortal blood, and who exactly was responsible, were unknown to us.

  “‘Very clever,’ Detective Finnegan had said when we found a sample of the drug to examine. ‘An intriguing mixture of chemical and alchemical components combined with the mortal blood. Whoever is creating this knows their stuff.’

  “Detective Finnegan was very knowledgeable of all matters relating to mind-altering substances and their chemical properties. He spent a great deal of time researching materials both mundane and arcane. Stumbling across a new drug intrigued him no small degree. He spent a few days studying its properties by testing it on himself.

  “Detective Olsen met with little success finding the source of the mortal blood. He spent those same days searching the streets for more samples of the drug while Detective Finnegan studied the substance itself. Usually, I found Detective Olsen to be methodical in his approach to searching for clues, but this time he seemed distracted.

  “‘I’m glad you’re enjoying this,’ Detective Olsen said. ‘But we’re wasting time. We’re no closer to finding those responsible.’