The Coconut Swindle (Black Cape Case Files Book 2)

by Matt Abraham

  There was a loud crash. And Bundy yelled, “Watch where you’re going.”

  Nice. My quarry had run into something big.

  I pushed ahead faster and took the turn. But instead of Bundy I found a pile of upturned cans and a puddle of thick, purple liquid. I jumped over the pool. But one foot landed in the goo. It stuck fast. And I fell forward, landing flat on the warehouse floor. Getting to my knees I reached back and yanked my loafer free. But the rubber sole stayed stuck as I ripped the shoe in half.

  I smelled my fingers. Hyper-adhesive.

  No matter. With one socked foot I resumed the chase. Up ahead was the exit to the wet dock. I charged through it. “This is stupid, Bundy. You’ll never outrun me.”

  To my right was a pile of garbage bags, while on the left sat two wooden wharfs. They ran parallel for fifty yards, and floating between them was a sleek, yellow jetboat. Bundy was standing at its helm. “I already have, unless you got gills.” He pushed down the throttle and his engine roared loud as it sucked water from beneath the hull and blasted it out the back. Bundy and his ship shot forward, like a bullet in a barrel. “So long, Curse.”

  I chased it down the dock.

  But with the seahorse power under Bundy he pulled away easy. So I stopped running. And the fact that the boat’s engine was on its belly meant I couldn’t cripple it with a bullet, so I stood there burning, and watched him escape with the information I needed.

  But then a rope slid past me.

  The other end was tied to Bundy’s boat.

  I dove. And just got a hand around it.

  The line jerked forward, and dragged me face first down the wooden dock like a cowboy who roped a runaway steer.

  Bundy glanced back. “What the? Are you kidding me?” He pressed the throttle lower, pulling me faster down the wooden wharf. Jagged splinters ripped through my coat. The searing friction burnt my pants and singed my knees.

  I didn’t know how much more I could take. Not because my grip would give, or my legs would burn, but because twenty yards ahead at the dock’s end, was a large, cement column. And Bundy was dragging me right towards it. If I smacked it I’d lose my grip. And even if I held on I didn’t know if I’d climb my way onto Bundy’s craft before I passed out from lack of oxygen. So I took the third option.

  Mere seconds before impact I swung my legs to the side, pulled my feet out in front of me, and caught the pillar on both heels. The rope in my hands jerked hard. Pain clawed my lower back. But like a two-ton anchor I held tight, and Bundy’s boat slammed to a halt. Its engine was still pumping hard though, and it jerked the vessel side-to-side on the end of my line. Meanwhile Bundy was slung over the captain’s wheel, kicking both legs in the air.

  Gritting my teeth, I pulled the rope towards me, and wrapped that extra line around my wrist. I pulled again. And the boat came even closer. Then, hand-over-hand I dragged Bundy towards me like a fat man sucks in a plate of pasta, until the vessel was only a few feet from the dock’s edge.

  But then Bundy straightened up. “You son of a bitch. You’re not taking me.”

  I gave the line another yank. “You… want to bet?”

  “Sure.” Bundy pulled a knife, and ran to where the rope was secured. He leaned out over the edge and hacked it. Once. Twice. On the third slice the rope frayed. “Ha. See you around.” He lifted the blade high. And brought it down fast.

  Right as I let go.

  I fell to the dock as the boat fired forward like a torpedo, sending Bundy tumbling over its back and into the ocean.

  Getting up I grabbed the column, leaned way out over the bay, and reached into the water. I wrapped my fist around Bundy’s ankle and pulled him out like a prize marlin. “Hey Bundy,” I said. “Glad I caught you.”

  Chapter 13

  I dragged Bundy down the pier, and threw him head first into the pile of garbage bags. “Now tell me everything you know about those boys.”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Get bent.”

  Putting my socked foot on the back of his skull I stomped down deep. The bag below him burst sending up the sickly sweet smell of whatever mystery moisture it held.

  I covered my nose and said, “I hope you like the idea of facing Saint Peter with a mouthful of whatever that is, Bundy.”

  Bubbles came out the sides of his half submerged head. I enjoyed the sound for more than a few moments. Finally I let up, and he rolled to his back, sputtering like an old Ford.

  I said, “Now talk.”

  Bundy wiped the brown liquid off his face and said, “Right. Thermite and Firewall. The Burn Boys. We shared a cell in Impenetron for a year or so. When they got out I offered them my services as a fence, but they declined, said they wanted to stay legit. Then a few weeks ago, out of the blue, they called me looking for a job.”

  “What changed their minds?”

  “No clue. But a little while before that I got a request from some out-of-towner facet hound, and since the boys pinch gems I lined the two up. I had no idea it was about the Coconut, though. I swear. Otherwise I’d have charged a higher fee.”

  I looked down at Bundy. “I need more.”

  “Like what?”

  “The name of the person who hired them, you muzzy fiend.”

  “I don’t got it.”

  “Bad news for you.” Maybe it was the fact I got knocked out the night before by my daughter’s boyfriend. Maybe it was because I missed my chance at the morgue. Or it could’ve been being dragged face first down a pier. But whatever it was, I’d had enough. Putting my heel on Bundy’s face I stomped down until the brown liquid was up to my ankle.

  Air bubbles from Bundy’s lungs began popping the surface of the liquid. He clawed my leg. And thrashed.

  I just pressed him down deeper. Soon the bubbles began to slow. Then they stopped. I took a few deep breaths. And enjoyed the silence. Along with the fresh, salty air. It really was a beautiful morning.

  But then I eased off. And pulling Bundy from the muck, I flipped him over, and smacked his spine. He came to life, retching up a can of motor oil. When it was all out he said, “Please. Stop.”

  I pulled one arm behind his back, and shoved his head back down, inches from the garbage. “The name,” I said. “Now.”

  “I…” Bundy gagged. “I don’t have one. I don’t work like that. I don’t want names, I don’t want details. You tell me what skills you want, and I pass your phone number over of who’s got them. It’s that simple.”

  “And when do you get your fee?”

  “The agents drop off half up front, the principal does the rest after the job’s complete.”

  “So,” I said, “when’re you getting the second installment?”

  “Tomorrow. She calls me tomorrow to set up the meet.”

  I spun him over and dropped him in the pile. Then I pulled out Rico, and pressed the muzzle into Bundy’s forehead. “And what will you do when she does?”

  His eyes went cross staring at my Thumper. “I’ll call you right after.”

  “Good. In the meantime give me the boys’ address. And anyone they’ve been known to hang around with.”

  Bundy stopped staring at my pistol, and looked up at me. “Are you serious? In the can it took them three months to even talk to me. You think they gave me an address? Or the names of their friends? Now you’re just wasting both our time.”

  Ugh. Even over the stink of his garbage breath that comment smelled true. “Fine. But one more thing.”

  “What?”

  I plunged my fist into Bundy’s pocket and pulled out his wallet. Inside were a few crisp hundreds. I took three.

  “No,” he said. “That’s mine.”

  “I’m keeping the drachmas for a new outfit. I’ll be wearing it when you call me tomorrow. And Bundy, if I got to come back.” I pointed Rico at the garbage. “You’re the one who better have gills.”

  #

  “Good God, you look awful.” Mrs. West was in her ultramarine suit, looking aghast. “And where’s your
other loafer?”

  “I lost it at the-”

  “It doesn’t matter, I’m just happy you’re not late for once. There’s a change of clothes in your office. I’m stepping out.”

  “Don’t rush back on my account.”

  Mrs. West gave me one of her not-so-happy smiles before snatching her purse and departing. Her last day was fast approaching and I couldn’t help but be excited. Being able to walk into my office without a smart mouth greeting from an acid tongued dame seemed like heaven. But when I got to the mirror in my bathroom I could see she wasn’t joking. My pants were shredded. My shirt, too. If I showed up at the morgue like this I’d turn every head in the place. No good.

  So I shaved, ran a comb through my hair, then donned a fresh gray suit, and by the time I looked respectable the clock on my wall said eight forty-five.

  Right on time.

  Then behind me the office door opened.

  “Hey Mrs. West, you back already?”

  “I’m not Mrs. West,” a now familiar voice said.

  I turned around. And standing in my doorway, with his pistol in hand, was the blond cop from yesterday. “Now put those flippers sky side, pal. Like I told you last night, you’re under arrest.”

  Chapter 14

  “How?” I said.

  “It wasn’t easy. I ran your plates, but got a bogus address. So I put a BOLO out on a matte black Jalopy, and what do you know? It turned up at an impound lot one day later.”

  “Yeah, ok. So you followed me here, but what about the deceit device? The dead end hologram in front of my door?”

  “That’s clever, but I’m patient. And thorough. Now enough with the hoo-ha, you’re coming with me.”

  I looked at his pistol. “Not unless you’ve got a bazooka blast chambered.”

  “That’s right. You’re invulnerable. And kind of strong. Is there anything else I should know about your skill set?”

  “Nope,” I said.

  “By golly that’s swell.” And he pulled the trigger.

  The slug hit my chest. But I barely felt it. “See, bullets don’t work.”

  “That wasn’t a bullet.”

  “What?” I looked down. A dart was sticking out of my shirt. Its tail was blue. Or was it purple? I couldn’t tell. Because suddenly everything was fuzzy. The room pitched back and forth. And I fell into my chair. “How?”

  “That’s a specially designed Trumite needle. It barely breaks through skin like yours, but it’s deep enough to get a sedative into your thick veins.”

  “Since when. Do cops. Have Trumite. Darts?”

  “Since a bunch of black capes backdoored Team Supreme and took Top Tower. Now we got all kinds of toys like shockproof vests, viper vapor…”

  My tongue started to go numb. “Oh. So we really are going downtown?”

  “Didn’t catch a word of that. Now relax.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Good boy.” He walked over, holstered his piece, and pulled a set of cuffs. This cop was brave. And smart. But he didn’t know that invulnerables like me have supercharged livers, capable of handling sedatives as easy as whiskey.

  My head was already clearing.

  So when he grabbed my shoulder I jumped up.

  “What the?” He pulled his gun.

  And I ripped it from his hand, then shoved him onto the chair in front of my desk.

  I slipped his piece into my pocket and pulled Rico. “You’re one sharp lawman, so keep being sharp and don’t move. Otherwise I’ll blast away with this Thumper, and spoiler alert, it doesn’t spit darts.”

  The cop froze. But his eyes rummaged around my room.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “You got a better chance of spotting a unicorn on the sofa than a way out of this that doesn’t run through yours truly.”

  The cop stopped searching, and put his eyes on me.

  “Ok,” I said, “you’re reasonable. That’s good. Now let’s talk.”

  “About what?”

  I sat in my chair keeping the pistol on him. “About your thoughts on the Coconut. I’m not entirely sure the boys killed each other.”

  “What?” he said. “Why do you care?”

  “I was hired to find out. Didn’t you read the door?”

  “You’re not a detective, you’re a black cape.”

  “I was a black cape. Now I-”

  “Help people?” He looked doubtful.

  “No.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I solve cases.”

  “But last night at the museum you were breaking and-”

  “Investigating. I wanted to see if the boys could get in by themselves. I had no intention of putting my spats on the glass floor of the Amphibia Theatre until your Special Forces squad made that decision for me.”

  The cop did the math in his head. And to his credit he came to the correct conclusion. “Right. No gear. You seemed like a really bad burglar. But everyone’s saying the Coconut kills are open and shut, what makes you think otherwise?”

  I reached for my top drawer, but stopped. And looked into the Viking’s baby blues. I never trusted a cop in my life, but this guy lacked a lick of subterfuge. If Leo and Tony were murdered he might just care. Maybe even help find the real killer, if they existed.

  So I grabbed the pics from my drawer, and spread them out. “Tell me how this happened.”

  The cop leaned forward and used a pen on my desk to shift the photos so the X-ray prints surrounded the bird’s eyes. “Alright. Best I figure is Firewall hacks the outer door, then disables the inner defenses-”

  “With the filament,” I said.

  “Uh. Yeah. So then they get inside, but before they can use the chemical in that canister on the Kessel Glass they get into a tussle over the diamond. Firewall sprays his pal, and Thermite blazed him back.”

  “Right. So two guys who spent five years in Impenetron because they wouldn’t rat on each other go up a stone wall, and down an air vent, without leaving a scratch, then beat an impossible defense system they couldn’t know anything about, only to burn each other alive next to gear they can’t afford?”

  He leaned back, and came up with Widow’s answer. “You’re thinking third man.”

  “I sure am. And you just nicked my pen.”

  The cop looked at his breast pocket. “Force of habit. These things are like gold in the station.” He pulled out my felt tip and put it back on the desk.

  “Don’t worry about it. But as to the third man, I don’t know if he actually killed the boys or just planned and funded the job. Either way I’d like to ask him.”

  The cop leaned back, chewing on what I just said. Honestly. He was actually thinking it through. “So how do we do that?”

  “Trace the accelerant,” I said.

  “We couldn’t. The canister’s inner walls are lined with a glaze that repels any residue. It was completely empty.”

  There was another way, but before I revealed it I had to know something. “Listen, how come you came to a powered perp’s lair to slap a pair of tin cuffs on him solo?”

  “Those cuffs are Trumite,” he said, “and justice is its own reward.”

  “That’s sweet. Now tell me the rest.”

  “Ok. Remember those storm troopers you tangled with last night? They’re the Special Powers Extraction Commission, a new unit that deals with powered crime. I want in, but they’re only taking battle hard ex-military, and all I am is a homicide detective. I figured if I brought in the black cape that slipped them all by my lonesome they’d reconsider.”

  A unit pitting regs against black capes? This cop was nuts. But… “Well, if you’re really interested in bagging a black cape help me look into this third man. If he’s out there we’ll bring him in together. Then I close my case and you get promoted. What do you say?”

  After a fair bit of thinking he said, “Ok. It’s a deal. The name’s Laars Monday,” and extended his hand.

  I shook it. “Dane Curse.”

  Chapter 15

 
“So where to?” Monday said as he started the car.

  “The morgue. I need to test Thermite for residue.”

  “You really think that’ll lead us to this mystery man?”

  “If we can find out which chemical accelerant they used, and where it came from? Definitely.” I remembered Bundy said mystery woman, but there was no reason to share everything with this cop just yet. He tried to arrest me twice now, and it’s always wise to keep some things to yourself, so I said nothing for the entire ride.

  By the time we arrived at the morgue it was nearly nine thirty. Sitting at the entrance was a short technician with brown hair and big ears. “Can I help you?”

  Monday flashed his shield. “Where’s Laura?”

  “Who?” the guy said.

  “Doctor Lockter.”

  He shrugged. “No clue. But I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”

  “Great. We’ll wait inside.”

  I followed Monday into the morgue. Everything was the same as yesterday. The cold smell, the white tiles, and the two rows of black clad bodies.

  “Thermite’s this way.” I led Monday down the aisle towards the boys who were now out of their bags and under a sheet like the other guests. When I got to Leonard I uncovered him. “Here he is.”

  Monday glanced at the corpse. “That isn’t Thermite.”

  I looked down. The body was firm, pale, and raw. I grabbed his toe tag. “No kidding, it’s Landslide.”

  Monday checked the last cadaver in the other row. “This one’s Slugfest.”

  “You take that side, I’ll take this one.” I walked back down the aisle, this time reading off the names of each cadaver, but reached the end without finding either boy. “Where’d they go?”

  “Let’s find out.” Monday turned to the door. “Hey tech, get in here.”

  The guy from outside strolled in with a clipboard under his arm. “What’s the problem?”

  “The two bodies from yesterday’s jewel heist,” Monday said, “where are they?”

  “I’m not authorized to give out specifics on black cape meat. You’ll have-”